#when I tell you me and Breanna and the few girls around us carried the whole barricade so he was like you know I’m coming there

[loveofmylouis]

Not him pointing at us and giving us a knowing look then jumping on top of me on barricade what the actual fuck

[sapphirelass]

Deal? - Remus LupinxDaughter

Hi! :)

Deal? (Part 1) | Oh, darling... (Part 2) | I’ll be by your side (Part 3) 

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Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

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I swear, my next story won’t be about Umbridge XD

Word count: ≈ 2300

Warnings: Umbridge, angst, slight swearing

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I do not wish to criticise the ways of the school, however you have been exposed to some rather irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention” the toadlike professor threw a dark glance at a sandy haired student and smirked evilly, “extremely dangerous half breeds”. 

The student in question raised her hand angrily, and glared at Professor Umbridge. “Yes?” the teacher smiled sweetly, “miss… Lupin, am I correct?”

“Yes, Breanna!” she began, “but that’s besides the point. Look, I know what you’re doing, but Professor Lupin was the best DADA teacher we’ve ever had, and I’d be more than happy to bet everything I own on that being quite a common opinion in this classroom!”

Most of her fellow classmates nodded furiously, and the young girl turned her head towards her professor, who immediately cleared her throat and declared: “Well, I’m afraid simply being a beloved teacher doesn’t really matter, dear.  Werewolves are still extremely dangerous creatures. They are beasts that are undeserving of respect and that should not be allowed to be part of our fine wizard community. They are uncontrollable, and highly likely to injure or possibly kill young witches and wizards, including their own children.” 

She flashed a cruel, yet pleased, smirk as Breanna furiously stood up, despite Hermione desperately trying to force her down. 

“You have NO IDEA what you’re talking about!?” she whispered angrily, her nails digging into her palms as her fists clenched. “You have probably never even met one of these so called ‘half breeds’, have you? No, you were most likely just told some bizarre stories containing more lies and made up facts than truths, and decided to put that worthless ‘knowledge’ - if you can even call it that - to use by spreading rumors and destroying the lives of innocent people.”

Umbridge looked frantic, and was about to speak up, but Breanna got there first. “I despise people who look down on others. People who claim to be better than everyone else. People like you. You certainly don’t deserve respect!”

She took a deep breath, and was about to continue when Umbridge’s shrill voice forced her to stay quiet. “That’s quite enough! Detention, miss Lupin. The rest of the week, five fifteen, don’t be late”. 

***

A few hours later, Breanna made her way back to Umbridge’s office. She knew her friends had wanted to talk to her, but she had done her absolute best to avoid them all afternoon. She simply didn’t feel like explaining to them why she had done what she did. She’d gladly do it again though. Her father was the kindest, wisest, most incredible person she had ever met. He had done everything in his power to give her a good childhood, and no one had the right to insult him. She’d defend him to her last breath if that’s what it would come down to.

She knocked on the door carefully, and pushed it open when she heard a shrill, terrifying voice sing a sweet “come in”. 

“Oh, miss Lupin, almost late I see!” she said arrogantly. Breanna didn’t have time to answer before her teacher continued. “Sit down.” 

***

The detentions went on for another four days before Umbridge told her she didn’t have to come back the following evening, but that she better hold her tongue unless she longed for more. Breanna tried to keep that in mind, but still lost her cool a few more times before the end of the semester. However, the Christmas holidays were approaching, and though her red, swollen hand caused her to worry slightly, the idea of seeing her dad and godfather caused her enough joy to tip her mood over to “mainly happy”. 

She stepped off the train with her friends, and immediately spotted her father on the platform.

“Dad!!” she shouted, and threw her scratched arms around his constantly scarred torso. “Merlin, I’ve missed you so much”. She buried her head in his shoulder, simply enjoying the feeling of love and safety that he somehow instantly gave off. 

“Hello, darling!” he said gently, returning the bone-crushing hug. “I missed you too, believe me…”

Breanna wanted to stay like that forever, but eventually let go as she intended to at least try to keep her… problems… hidden. She had never really been able to keep secrets from her dad, and therefore didn’t want to do anything he would consider “out of the ordinary”. If she did, he’d figure it out, or persuade her to tell him everything within minutes, and she knew he’d feel guilty if he realized what she had done for him. She understood perfectly well that the scars on her hand were deep enough to be visible for the rest of her life, and that nothing she would say could convince Remus Lupin that it was not his fault. She was left with one option: He could not, under any circumstances, know. Ever. 

They carried her trunk together, and walked a few feet behind the rest of the gang.

“So?”, her father inquired, “How are things? You all doing okay?”

“I suppose”, she answered, “Our new DADA teacher is quite a daft prick though.”

“Bree!”, he muttered sternly, casually trying to hide a smile, “Are you sure that’s the right word? Sounds rather rough, doesn’t it?”

The witch shrugged. “No, I think it fits rather nicely. It’s almost as if she’s trying her very best to prevent us from learning anything helpful…”

“That’s… well, that doesn’t sound very promising, does it?”

“No, hence the slightly offensive description… But enough about her, how are you? Had any company while I was gone?”

The older wizard smiled, easily noticing the tone of his daughter’s voice switch into a far more joyful, energetic one - One he knew and loved! 

“Oh yes, I’ve spent quite a bit of time at headquarters, and Sirius essentially isn’t allowed anywhere else, so we’ve done a lot of catching up. There is, believe it or not, a lot to talk about after 12 years without seeing each other, so it’s been very nice.” He turned to her, smiled even broader and added a quick “But I’ve still missed you.”, before quickening his pace to catch up with the others.

***

Later that night, Breanna, Remus, Harry and Sirius were sat in the living room of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry and Sirius were playing catch with an old snitch they had found in the house, lazily throwing it back and forth. Breanna lay on a sofa, a thick leather bound book tightly clutched in her hands and her head resting on her fathers lap. He was deeply invested in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, and father and daughter were simply enjoying a nice, calm evening.

All of a sudden, Sirius grabbed the snitch, sat up straight and reached out towards his godson. 

“Harry, what’s that on your hand?”

The dark haired boy pulled the sleeves of his jumper further down and mumbled a quiet “nothing”.

“Sure, let me see then”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry abo…”

Harry didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as Sirius had risen from his seat and forcefully grabbed his left hand. The slightly faded “I must not tell lies” was still readable, and Harry winced as the look on his godfather’s face went from composed to furious in a matter of seconds.

“Who?” 

“Sirius, I…”

“WHO?!”

By this time, both Remus and Breanna had put their books down, and were carefully observing the “argument”.

“It’s our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Umbridge. She’s quite generous when it comes to giving detentions. But mine’s really not that bad now. It barely hurts anymore...”

“That’s totally barbaric!? Moony, we have to…”

“Harry”, Remus interrupted his old friend with a worried look on his face, “What do you mean by ‘quite generous’?”

His heart practically skipped a beat when he felt his daughter shift uncomfortably, however it was Harry who answered.

“‘m quite sure half the Gryffindors have been to her office at least once by now. Even when you’re not really doing anything wrong, she’ll make up a ‘reasonable’ excuse…”

As Harry spoke, Breanna had unconsciously been pulling the sleeves of her jumper closer to her fingertips. Remus obviously noticed and made eye contact with Harry, nodding discreetly towards his daughter as if to ask if she too had… well… yeah? Harry closed his eyes, knowing full well how his friend wanted to hide her scars from her dad. It had taken hours of convincing before she had even let him, Ron and Hermione see, and he understood why she didn’t want Lupin to know. He did, however, not like the idea of lying to his former professor, and nodded slightly.

Remus closed his eyes looking simultaneously sad and angered, sat up straight and muttered “Bree?”

The young witch took a deep breath and was about to move away from her dad, but he was faster and quickly grabbed her hand. He was very gentle, but she flinched anyways, as her last detention had taken place only a week prior.

“Bree”, he repeated, “show me”

“Dad”, she mumbled quietly, “‘tis fine, don’t worry”

“Brianna!” His voice sounded far sterner now, “I’m serious. C’mere”

“No, I don’t want…”

“It’s not a question of whether or not you want to, Love”, Sirius explained before his friend could think of a response. “Show your dad.”

“But…”

“Bree”, Harry mumbled, “Just… just do it”

“No! I can handle it! Stop making it sound like I’m too weak to do so!”

She felt a tear escape her eye, and stood up to leave the room when Remus waved his wand and locked the door.

Taking yet another deep breath, his daughter turned around, made her way across the room, pulled her left sleeve up and slammed her scarred hand down on the table for the other three to see.

“There! You happy now?!”

A flood of tears were streaming down her face, as her dad, godfather and best friend leant closer and read seven deep-red, awful, heart wrenching words:

***

 I must not defend filthy half breeds

***

Remus put his head in his hands and stood up, while Sirius moved closer to his goddaughter and pulled her into a tight hug. Harry joined the embrace and comfortingly rubbed her back.

“why? Why Bree?”, her father whispered quietly, his voice barely audible.

“I… I couldn’t...She… sorry…” 

The usually calm, collected girl was completely lost for words. Shaking. She had no clue what to say, all she knew was that she had to let her dad know that she was sorry. Sorry for making him feel guilty. Sorry for causing him so much pain. Sorry for not being strong enough.

She walked over to him and noticed heavy, wet tears on his face too. Carefully she wrapped her arms around him, and together they sank down onto the cold floor. They sat there for what felt like hours before Remus finally spoke up, repeating his previous question.

“Why, darling?”

She met his sad gaze and collected her thoughts before quietly whispering “She keeps saying horrible things - pure lies - and she’s enjoying it. She’s throwing insults my way every chance she gets. If I don’t stand up and fight, everyone will think she’s right, and she’s not. Nothing will ever change unless someone works for it, and as soon as that someone backs down, they’ve lost. I’m not having that.”

He looks back at her, his eyes full of pride. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You mean besides being the most phenomenal dad imaginable?”

He chuckled softly, ruffled her long hair and held his hand out. Breanna slowly placed her hand on her father’s and shifted her gaze towards the floor as he examined the neatly written letters. With a worried expression on his face, he grabbed his wand and moved it back and forth over the scars while quietly muttering a few carefully chosen words. The pain immediately became more endurable, and after putting his wand away the older wizard grabbed his daughter’s shoulders gently, and looked at her in a sad, yet determined way.

“Bree, as honourable as your intentions are, please don’t do this for me. I’m not going to tell you to back down, but if you’re going to keep it up, don’t let it…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting injured because of me. I’m not wo…”

“Yes, you are! Stop saying that! I’ll be a bit more selective, if that’s what you want, but don’t you dare tell me not to fight for you. You are my dad, my only family, and there is not a single person on this planet less deserving of disrespect, insults and hate. Dad, you’re amazing, and I’m not letting her fool people into thinking you’re not.”

After a moment of silence, a quiet, “I still don’t like it…”, escaped his lips. 

“I know.” She sighed,  “That’s why I originally didn’t plan on telling you.”

Bree was fiddling with her fingers, not quite meeting her fathers warm gaze, when she suddenly sat up and said, “Let’s make a deal? I promise to choose my fights more wisely, and in return, you won’t blame yourself for the consequences of said choices? Sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

Her father sighed, but reluctantly answered, “Fine, as long as you promise me one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“You won’t hide scars or pain from me ever again, no matter whether it’s physical or mental, okay? You’ll let me know, and let me help, always!”

She held her right hand out, her dad shook it and they shared a smile. This time, a true, pure one that actually reached their identically green eyes.

“Deal!”

~ L

Part 2 Oh, darling...

Masterlist

[slothgiirl]

shadowplay ch 4

You finally go grocery shopping after work on friday, grabbing plenty of bread and fruit and mostly yogurt that doubles as both breakfast and a snack and some beans while your at it. Nothing like homemade beans.

This part of adulthood was awful, not just working but actually having to come home and do things. You better understood why your mum and dad got annoyed when they got home and you still hadn't done the dishes.

You think of texting Alex this but think better of it. You weren't quite friends. So you send a text to Sam instead.

Her succinct reply is grow up babes.

You'd last seen her an hour ago during work and she'd gone to get drinks with Matt and Vy but you'd been an adult and gone to get groceries.

And then you get home and eat toast with jam and one of the apples you got. Hardly an actual meal.

Your phone buzzes. Alex <3 flashing on the lock screen. want 2 gt drinks. Which is so unAlex you immediately call him.  

"Who are you and what have you done to Alex," you joke and hope he picks up on it. Maybe he was right about calling being better after all. Not that you'd ever tell him that. He'd be unbearably smug.

"Love," he answers with a laugh, "just Zack here thinking he was being funneh. But the offer still stands if your up for it? I know works been busy." It was nice of him to give me an easy out. But staying in on a Friday night was terribly depressing.

"Where?"

You take the tube over to a more fashionable area of east london, over in Hackney. The bars themed like a seventies magazine interpretation of a living room, playing early Bowie.

Alex greets you with a kiss on your mouth, soft and lingering just enough that you feel off kilter, unable to hide the stiffness in your shoulders. Here where everyone can see.

And then your taking a seat and shaking Zack's hand. Alex ordering you a cranberry vodka. The same drink you'd been buying since you realized beer was gross. "Working on some stuff here in London," he shrugs.

"Still quite offended you didn't ask to stay at mine," Alex pouts, clearly on his way to drunk, hand resting on your tigh. You can't not be hyperaware of his touch, electric against your skin.

"I did think of you," Zack protests, "but Allison, my old roommate asked first and I said yes. Besides man you like dropped off the face of the earth. Holed up."

"I like to decompress," he states, sipping at his beer. "And this one here has me flying back."

You snort, "well you offer," you lie because you refuse to be a fake bitch. If this is all fake, then your going to be the fake version of yourself you teenage self would've been proud of. "And I'm not going to say no Al!"

Alex smiles boyishly charming, and really does anyone buy his cool guy act when he's so obviously a sweetheart. You can imagine him going out of his way to help an old lady carry her bags upstairs.

"Ahh," Zack laughs, "and he said he didn't want to bhover you," he finishes in a terrible cockney accent. Americans. "This is exactly why Miles and Matt didn't invite you on our little getaway we have coming up."

Suddenly alert, Alex goes, "what! What trip!"

Zack giggles. "Just a little boys trip. Breanna was going to go but she said it'd be too much testosterone for her to stomach alone."

"And I wasn't invited?"

"Guess you were too busy," Zack says smugly. Before turning to you, "Forgive me for texting you under false pretenses but it's Alex. Gotta get things out of him somehow."

"Really," you wonder out loud, "I've never had any trouble with that. He just rambles a bunch."

"Oi," Alex protests, looking faux betrayed at you, like a puppy when you refuse to give them more treats, "you going with them?"]

Zack nods. "I'm guessing you know about the bands?"

"I do," you reply, finishing your drink and feeling the drunk giddyness bubble up in you, Alex's hand on your tigh warm as he rubs circles into your skin. It had been brilliant of you to change into a mini skirt that had survived many a trips to the club. "Which one are you in?"

"The last shadow puppets though it's really Alex's and Miles' baby." You make a note to listen to some songs.

You turn to Alex, catching him staring at you with the dreaminess of the blissfully drunk, face flushed, "Have a favorite child?"

He shakes his head, "that's comparing apples to oranges darling."

"Least you could do," you tease him, exciting laughter out of him.

"You guys should both come though," Zack offers, "bet Breanna would come then and that would make Helders happy as fuck!"

"When's the trip," you ask, curious though by then this will be over. Maybe you and Alex can be amicable fake exes. You'd never managed to stay friends with any past lovers. But that was because a) you lived in different places and drifted apart and b) they were assholes though that was only really your last boyfriend.

"In two months. We've rented a cabin in Northern California. There's a lake. It looks sick."

You look at Alex and hope he's not too drunk to say something plausible, smiling in amusement as he taps in tune with the beat to the music playing. You would recognize Donna Summer anywhere.

"I don't know mate," Alex shrugs, looking over at you, his eyes meeting yours, trying to gauge your response, "probably can't get work off with this late of a notice?"

That wasn't true at all. And you had so many saved up vacation days apart from the mandatory ones. But it was nice that Alex had already found an excuse. "I'll have to see," you add, making sure to look adoringly at Alex, not a hard thing to do, it was much harder to keep a straight face, to keep from laughing when you felt so light and bubbly after a few drinks, his leg bumping into yours as he taps the beat playing, like you were heartbroken over the idea of not being able to go with him and his friends.

"Just let me or the boys know," Zack tells you both. "Breanna would probably love too come if she wasn't the only girl." Then orders a round and you all proceed to get comfortably drunk.

Zack telling you all about his touring misadventures and a memorable skinny dipping adventure where the band had forgotten where they'd hidden their clothes. Alex chiming in about his and Matt's adventure to procure weed "or something with a bit more of a kick," in the early days and spending one hundred dollars on bunk acid.

"Fooking wankers," he mutters.

"In college someone got some prerolled joints and a bunch of us were all psyched to go smoke it after school," you tell the boys, blushing at the memory of your dumb antics, "all nerdy kids who did not know how to roll a joint and we forgot to get a lighter."

"No fooking way love," Alex laughs in delight. "I would've rolled you the best joint."

You wrinkle your nose, "I prefer edibles if I'm being honest. Or shrooms. Did you see how microdosing blew up all of a sudden?"

Zack slaps the table, "and among moms of all people!"

"Mums be getting lit!"

You offer to go order the next round, two more beers and a cranberry vodka. Asking politely if there wasn't a strokes song that would fit into the theme.

The man behind the bar hands you the drinks and waves you off with, "drag queen works."

The song starts as you get back to the table, placing the drinks down.

"The strokes," Alex drunkenly proclaims, "what kind of witchcraft 'ave you done love?" He pulls you close against him before kissing you madly, tasting of beer and tobacco against your mouth, not a hit of pretending about it, as you stiffen in his arms in surprise before melting against his touch not even a second layer.

To your surprise, instead of feeling relief when he pulls away, singing along with Zack who also knows the words, it's a sharp yearning, the sudden prick of a needle in your finger. It's stupid. You're being stupid.

Alex would've never given you a second glance if it hadn't been for Arielle. And why would he when he went around dating girls like Arielle, models who were sweet on top of being insanely beautiful.  

And now you just want to go home.

Instead you laugh it off, "I just asked nicely Al. Works wonders."

Zack snorts, "their new stuff is so underrated."

"It is," Alex cries out.

"Oh my god you are drunk!"

"And happy! I'm so happy you came love! I wasn't sure you would."

"Only for you Alex." Which is true in more ways than one. You doubt you would have agreed to all this with just anyone. No. Alex was special. Enough charisma to charm the whole world.

He leans into kiss you again, with the same hunger as before and reluctantly you pull away, still unsure about that thrum of want running through your veins and what to do about it. Now was not the time to figure that out. "Time to go home," you suggest and hope Zack goes his own way. As funny as he's been, you need a cold shower and to remind Al he's not actually dating you.

Alex nods eagerly, sliding cash on the table and waving a hastily goodbye to Zack.

He flags a cab down for you both and gives the driver your address, his arms still wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to him. It's too much. He's just drunk. And you don't want to do anything stupid with him. Not with the lie. You'd much rather be good friends at the end of all this.

"Al," you protest, slipping out of his hold as he goes in to press another kiss to your lips, "no."

He looks like a kicked puppy, wide eyes and pouty lips, but doesn't make another move, gaze focused on you with an embarrassing amount of earnestness.

"You can't-," you start, "you can't have things both ways. And we agreed. There's lines."

With obvious reluctance he nods, "sorry love," he slurs, slumping in his seat, looking out the window of the cab.

"It's okay," you tell him, because who hasn't been drunk and made bad decisions, settling down next to him again. The heat of his body doing wonders to take the edge off.

It's just Alex.

You both come up into your flat.

"You sure it's alright," Alex slurs, wavering in the doorway looking as unsure as you feel, "I'll be fine at home."

"I'll sleep a lot better knowing your fine," you tell him, "come on rockstar," and drag him in. He's drunk. And you care about him too much to just let him go off on his own.

You both collapse into your bed, fourteen minutes past three in the morning. "I haven't been out so late in ages," you tell him. "My ex, Tom, he always said it was because I'm not fun." It had made you feel like shit but having just gotten your job, you had worked hectic hours and as the newbie you hadn't been in a position to ask for whatever schedule suited you best. And after a long day at work, going out was not something you wanted when you were home.

"You're loads of fun love," Alex whispers back, taking your hand in his, rubbing circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, "I always have a hell of a time when I'm with you. That's what matters. Not snorting a few rails of coke though that can be fun too."

"I've only ever done shrooms and that was in Amsterdam. In the tulip fields."

"Rockstar love. I've got you beat."

You roll your eyes, "what happened to not wanting to sound like a bloody twat?"

Alex laughs, sending heat down your spine. It makes you glad for the obscurity the dark lends, making you a mere outline when you feel like a burning star.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep once you lapse into comfortable silence.

Alex is gone by the time you wake up. A glass of water on your bedside table thoughtfully left by him.

[thekrazykeke]

I love this man. To be honest, I’ma hoe for all of them men in Black Panther, so it’s whatever. Every single one of them can get it, and I don’t even know who I want to take me first, Erik or T’Challa? ....Hm, both. Both is good. This chapter is potentially, likely, triggering for some people. Please read this with caution and know that my inbox and IM is always open, for anyone, at any time. 

You’re not bothering me. Never think you are bothering me.

Continued from here, boo.

The minute the apartment door swung open, your eyes snap to Nadia’s face, and you see it, the bruise the size of a fist swelling up her right eye. 

“Where is he?” 

“Let’s talk inside.” Nadia’s hand on yours is firm as she tugged you in, using her hair to shield the bruise from view; the motion too familiar, practiced. The organ in your chest throbbed with pain and you think you’re about to have a panic attack or something. 

"Where is that nigga, is he here?” Your hands clench then unclench, and you can’t focus on one thing, eyes darting around the room, categorizing how the living room is trashed; broken glass shards sprinkled everywhere, TV broken, a hole or two punched in the walls. 

It’s a mess. 

“Calm down, Y/N.” Nadia says, voice entirely too calm, nonchalant.

“Is. That. Nigga. Here?” You enunciate each word forcefully, eyes widened and crazed, angry. 

“He not here. Simmer down already, shit.” Exhausted already by the conversation, she flopped down on the couch. “I called you because I needed your advice.”

“Waterboard that no good ass nigga.” You immediately suggest, taking a seat beside her.

“What, no. That’s,” she laughs, “That’s crazy. Y/N, stop it. Be serious.” 

You aren’t laughing. “I’m deadass. I know somebody who know somebody. They’ll snatch that bitch nigga up off the street, rough his punk ass up, and--”

Nadia couldn’t listen anymore. “I’m the one who started it by spitting in his face!”

“...The fuck. Why would you do that?” Almost always joking, Nadia wasn’t somebody who deliberately provoked people, or at least, she didn’t start something she couldn’t slick-talk her way out of. “Spitting on people is nasty, yo.”

“He dared me to do it. And I was just...” Sighing explosively, she ran her fingers through her hair. “...I found a pregnancy test in the bathroom trash, and I know it ain’t yours. You barely here, for one, and I can’t see you or Erik being that careless.” 

And you had an IUD, but still. Making a motion for her to continue, "So the muthafucka got his side bitch pregnant, and you got pissed.”

For the next half hour, you listen to her with a sympathetic ear as she told you that for a long time, things had been rocky between Travis and herself. He had not intentions of settling down -- with her, though he loved to lead her on with a carrot-stick maneuver and saying he might, he might, he might, while fucking around on her. He knew about the hookup she’d had with Erik and all the other times, with other people, while they’d been on a break. According to Nadia, the guy even made fun of her naivety in thinking he’d marry ‘a woman whose legs were always wide open’. The hypocritical dipshit.

That’s why she spat on him. 

Couldn’t really blame her for that, not really. 

“The girl he got pregnant, she’s only twenty one, Y/N. Twenty one...”, Shaking her head, Nadia laughed. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” As tears stung her eyelashes and her voice wobbled, you reached out, pulling her towards you for a half hug. “It’s okay. Fuck that dude, aigh’t? I know people say it all the time, but you are going to find someone and be happy.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do. You are a phenomenal woman and someone is going to recognize you for your worth. Don’t let some idiot take that away from you. You hear me?” Hot tears warmed your shirt and you rocked her gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise.” 

“I ain’t got nobody no more...” 

“It’s okay...”

Honestly, after that whole experience, you were drained. The thought of going out and being sociable, it made the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. Nadia wasn’t hearing that though. 

“B i t c h! This is an important milestone in your relationship. Meeting a family member?” Shaking her head, an ice pack over the swollen area, she gave you a thumbs up and painfully sincere smile, “Girl, if I was you, I wouldn’t have even brought my thick ass over here to deal with my bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, Nadia.” You interjected, for the fiftieth time. “You my friend and you needed me. Case closed.”

“Whatever. I’m good. I’m gonna sit here and try and figure out who I can pay off to try and fix these damages before the landlord see this shit.” Tilting her head back, she sank more comfortably into the couch. “Forreal, you should go. See what’s good wit Erik and this mystery family member, actually find out what Erik does for a living. I’m betting it’s something physical. His arms hella strong.”

“Bitch.” You elbow her gently.

“What? I’ma single pringle now, so I can look,” Nadia said defensively. “It’s not like he would notice me anyway. The nigga got eyes for you only. It’s cute as fuck, keeping it one hunned.” Although you didn’t want to leave Nadia alone, she took your cellphone and texted Erik to come get you. 

When he came to pick you up, she all but shoved you out the door. 

“You still gon do this wit me, right? Meeting my cuz?” Erik could tell what was up immediately. “I can reschedule, it ain’t nothing.”

And he would, you realized, he cared for your personal comfort more than what his cousin would think. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hands finding the nape of his neck, you tilt your head up and he took the hint, kissing you. “You don’t have to reschedule. So, where is this dinner taking place?” 

Turns out that it’s the Queen’s Cove, the most expensive hotel in the area. Some of the most important political figures and celebrities stayed there. Fuck, even Obama and Michelle had spent two nights there! You were internally spazzing out, mind going one hundred miles an hour, wondering exactly who Erik’s cousin was, who Erik was--

‘I’ll find out tonight. To-night. OMG. That’s not enough time! Holy fucking shit! Oh. mah. Gawd. Chill, Y/N. Just. chill.’ 

Calling up every ounce of zen in your body that you had, you manage to smile at Erik who’s eyeing you warily, probably catching the goofy, weird expressions you’d made while wigging out. 

"Clothes, we both need new clothes.” You say decisively. 

“I don’t really--”

“Nigga, bring ya ass on!”

“Aigh’t already, damn!”

After an exhausting rest of the afternoon spent looking for the perfect outfit, Erik dropped you off at your favorite salon to get your hair and nails done. It was a last minute walk in appointment and Chantay wasn’t the happiest seeing you -- until she saw the amount of money you were paying her. While she worked her magic, you and Breanna texted back and forth, with y’all going through potential jobs and reasons for all this mystery and secrecy that Erik was doing. 

Bre also promised that she would send Dre to put Travis in check asap. Then the topic changed once again when she sent you the link to an article about the Wakandan king, T’Challa. 

Apparently he was slated for a press conference tomorrow morning?

‘She so dumb, but I love her silly ass.’ Smiling faintly, you replied that yes, the king was pretty fione, but he was a little too lean for your tastes. You ain’t want a man that didn’t know how to handle all your thickness. You cracked up laughing when she sent you a poop emoji, murmuring an apology when Chantay told you to keep still.

Once that appointment is concluded, the two of y’all took note of the limo waiting outside. 

The. Limo.

GSLKDHFSKFLJSD!!!

“Y/N?” Neither of y’all utter a word. So he tries again, “Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you, ma’am?” The driver asked, professional and relaxed, unruffled, by the fact that he’s being gaped at.

“That’s me.” You reply weakly. He opened the door for you. 

“I got the license plate number in case you go missing.” Chantay whispered out the corner of her mouth. Placing a hand over your heart, you throw up a peace sign and she waved, removing a cigarette from behind her ear and lit it. 

Question after question flew through your brain. You wanted to touch everything but at the same time, it was important to show some class. He drops you off at the apartment where you quickly shower, moisturize, and change (Nadia is gone but where you don’t know and have no time to find out), and when you come back out, the few people lingering around eye you with appreciation, curiousity and lust. 

The drive to the Queen’s Cove is completely silent but you don’t care. This feels like some straight up black Cinderella-out-the-hood type stuff. 

The next time the car pulls to a stop and the door opens, it’s Erik who’s reaching a hand out to you. Without hesitation, you take his hand and he helps you out of the limo, appraising you with hungry eyes. Although your inner mantra is that you’re in public and this is indecent, especially for a place this fancy, you give him a once over too. 

“Damn baby, you lookin’ like a whole snack.” 

Cracking a smile, because regardless, Erik gon be Erik, you let him kiss the corner of your mouth, so close to your lips. “Mmhm, you look handsome too, baby. Let’s go meet your cousin.”

“You right, you right.” There’s a distracted air about him and he can’t stop looking at you. 

Admittedly, that swells your ego. That floaty feeling carries you through what might have been an epic freak out and meltdown because again, there were celebrities and politicians milling about, everything looked expensive. 

Fuck, even the air smelled rich!

The maitre d’ led y’all to a private booth/sitting area in the far back, not easily noticed by other people. And there, already seated... Is the King of Wakanda. T’Challa Udaku. 

“Cousin! There’s bobotie on the menu!” Eyebrows raising, you glanced at Erik pointedly, but he merely pulled out the chair for you. The whole ass king, T’Challa, put down the menu only to smile at you brightly, “Oh! I am so rude. Hello. You are Erik’s woman, yes?”

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Your Highness.” You said primly, about to raise up and possibly mangle an attempt at a curtsey, but Erik’s hand on the nape of your neck keeps you seated, the gesture effortlessly casual, but intimate.

“Please, there are no need for titles. Did you not tell her that, cousin?” Erik sat down too. “...Oh, Bast, he did not tell you that.” T’Challa, the king of an African nation, frowned. “N’Jadaka...”

“N-who?” Your brows furrowed.

T’Challa sighed and Erik eyeballed him, expression annoyed. “Bruh, don’t come at me like that! What with yo bitch ass Council putting that gag order on a nigga, what could I tell her but the kiddy shit?”

“Um...” You try to speak up.

“The conference is tomorrow, cousin. You could have informed her at least two weeks in advance.”

“You think I’m slow or some shit? Like I can’t read, muthafucka? Of course I know it’s tomorrow! I brought her down her to meet yo cornball ass, but we can bounce if you gon be on some other--”

THUMP! 

Slamming your fist into the table, ignoring the throbbing pain searing through the appendage, you glared at them both. “If both y’all grown ass men don’t start actin’ like y’all mofos got some sense and recognize we in public, right now...” You say through gritted teeth. 

“Sorry, baby.” Erik mumbled.

“My apologies, Y/N.” 

After that, the tension faded away. The dinner felt relaxed and normal, like you were eating out with ya man and another brother or something. During that dinner though, Erik explained that he was a prince, third in line for the throne to Wakanda. The two of them made some questionable quips and remarks that bordered on being too dark, and you were most certainly going to be talking to Erik about that later. 

Erik, that wasn’t even his real name. 

It’s N’Jadaka Udaku. 

There’s something beautiful about the way the vowels rolled off your tongue and N’Jadaka, likes when you use it. Oh, yeah, he definitely liked the way you say his name, if his hand on your thigh underneath the table is any indication, the slow circles he’s rubbing into the satin smooth brown skin, teasing you. 

“Hi! I’m Mitchell and this is Cassandra, and we--”

Oh. No.

It feels like the bottom of your stomach has fallen out. You are half afraid to even look up and see if they’re as close as you fear, but when you flick your eyes to the right, yes. Yes they are, right here.

Waiters. 

Ha! 

Right now, they’re pestering T’Challa, asking if he wants a refill of his drink, and you glance at ya man, trying to non-verbally signal to him that we had to get the fuck outta dodge before they noticed us. And either he was just horny or he got the message, probably the former, but he was about to get up when Cassandra turned and finally noticed us.

Shit!

“Y/N! Hi! Oh, goodness. This is such a coincidence, running into you and your beau again. I told Mitchell that I saw you at my other job and he didn’t believe me at all.” 

Somehow, you manage to smile, “Such a...small world.” 

There’s a pregnant pause. “Erik! Hi, hello!” Again, she offered her hand for a shake.

He ignored her outstretched hand. “This is a private dinner. Family only.”

Mitchell snorted, his handsome features twisting into a sneer. “Family? Y/N? No way. I grew up with the girl, that’s straight ghetto--”

Cassandra elbowed her hubby abruptly. “Honey.”

“Nah, let him finish his sentence.” Erik took a swallow of wine, finishing off the glass. “‘Straight ghetto’, what?”

“I was going to say that Y/N and her family are an...unscrupulous bunch.” Lying through his teeth, Mitchell plastered a smile onto his lips, though his eyes are bitter, cruel. Jealous. “It’s very unfit for her to be sitting next to, and dining with, royalty.” 

T’Challa raised a finger, “Forgive me for sounding uncultured in this. English is not my first language and I have not been to America often,” It’s clear, if only to you and Erik, that he’s downplaying his own intellect, he’d talked circles around you about a lot of topics and explained things without making you feel stupid. “But I believe you are insulting not only myself, and by extension, all of Wakanda, you are also insulting my own cousin, a prince, and his choice of female companion? Y/N is quite a lovely and intelligent, funny, woman, after all.”

“I agree! I so agree!” Cassandra nodded her head vigorously. “Y/N and I, we were friends once upon a time ago in college.”

Unable to stand all this double talking and hypocrisy, your mouth opened, “Bitch, when?” You sounded so done at the moment. “Is it after you caught a case of jungle fever and decided that you were finished fucking Tim, who went on to become a famous country singer by the way, and chose this light bright nigga to be your Negro husband? I bet you were very disappointed that the rumor of all black men having big dicks isn’t true.”

Cassandra paled, standing there, gaping at you. Mitchell, however, absolutely exploded. “You ghetto ass dirty hoodrat bi--”

One right hook and an uppercut and Mitchell hit the floor with a pained grunt. Erik put his foot on his chest, keeping him in place. “I’m from Oakland, California, straight up out the hood, my nigga. Erik Stevens, ask about me.” Grinding his heel into his chest for a few more seconds, he stepped over him, “Let’s get the fuck up outta here.” 

“Yoink.” You grab the bottle of wine, patting Cassandra’s shoulder ‘comfortingly’. “I’ll just take this for the road. Since we such good friends, you got me, right? Right. I’ll holla at you on Facebook, boo boo.” With a wave of your fingers, you accept Erik’s hand, smiling big and pretty, especially when he adjusted his grip so that his arm is around your waist, headed for the exit. 

“Bill me for any damages, yes?” Smiling a camera ready smile, T’Challa dipped his head in farewell to Cassandra, accidentally stepping on Mitchell’s hand and followed after his wayward cousin and date. 

Once y’all are outside, embarrassment overtakes you and you’re about to apologize to T’Challa but he only wagged a finger and smiled. “It was very good fun tonight. I almost thought you were too timid for my cousin but you have such a vibrant personality, Y/N.”

You look at the ground then away from him, unable to keep eye contact at the sincerity in his tone. “Careful, nigga, or you and me gon go round three for you flirting with my girl.” Erik joked, tilting your chin up a little to kiss your forehead.

T’Challa shook his head and chuckled, “Take care of each other and stay out of trouble, eh.”  

Then y’all go y’all’s separate ways. Erik and you get in the limo, while a fierce, bald lady opens the door to a sleek sports car, and T’Challa gets in that. Both vehicles take off in opposite directions. You reach for Erik’s hand and he holds your hand in his lap, his thumb tracing circles around the pulse point, a pensive expression on his face. You want to know what’s up but you also are afraid to know what’s bothering him, secretly figuring that it’s you and the drama that follows you around like a bad smell. 

When the limo drops y’all off at his crib, he immediately strips of the outfit, carelessly dropping the items of clothing onto the floor and elsewhere, motions agitated. You follow after him silently, carefully following his lead. The two of you shower together but he doesn’t touch you, or make any lewd comments. He gives you some clothes to sleep in and you think that y’all aren’t going to talk about the elephant in the room when he turns his back to you, and reluctantly, you turn so that you’re facing away from him too.

Only twenty minutes of this and you think you’re going crazy. 

You’re about to get the fuck outta dodge when he speaks, “I need...I need to tell you somethin’.” Heart sinking in your chest, you try to turn around but he holds you in place, apparently not wanting you to look at him while he tells you...whatever he needs to tell you. 

Pretty sure you were prepared for anything than what he told you about his life before he and you started sleeping together and became a couple. The uncensored version of who Erik Steven is...or rather, who he had been. 

Killmonger.

All of it. 

You’d like to think you were a tough as nails type of bitch, but that story had you crying hard as shit. Whether for N’Jobu, N’Jadaka, or T’Challa and his father. Or Erik’s victims...it’s a mystery. 

You just hurt.

“I couldn’t...couldn’t keep hiding what I done. I mean, I could, but tonight, if anything, proved that all that shit tends to come out one way or the other. And I wanted you to hear it from me, not nobody else.” He swallowed. “I ain’t gon be mad or, or, stop you if you choose to leave me. I understand.” 

The next time you attempted to turn around, he didn’t stop you. Legs on either side of his chest, hands resting on his abdomen, you stared down at him with red and puffy eyes. “If I got up right now to leave, would you choke me out, smack me, or shoot me in the head?”

He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly, eyes suspiciously bright, “No.”

“Do you have any plans to cheat on me?”

“Fuck no.” 

“Couples fight, they argue. That shit is normal. I might get mad and say some hurtful things, or you might be the one to do all that. We might yell at each other. That is normal. What I won’t accept is being made into Boo-Boo the Fool when you get mad and feel you have to prove what a man you are, then cheat on me with another bitch. 

I won’t be your punching bag or doormat. I am your woman, more than that, I’m somebody daughter, they sister. 

I’ve got too much respect for myself to let any of that foolishness go on. I will drop yo ass wit the quickness and cross the street to avoid speaking to you for years, if necessary.” Pausing, you take a breath, letting your words sink in. 

“Do you understand?”

Erik’s cautiously rests his hands on your hips. “I understand that, and I respect it. But I’m asking you to please, don’t throw that shit I told you in my face if you get mad. Ion care bout nun else but don’t do me dirty like that, Y/N. I’m tryin’ my best, baby girl.”

Baby girl. Oooh fuck, that nickname did things to you. You needed to get your hormones under control, bih, this is a serious moment! “’Kay.” You say, voice quiet, and you bite your bottom lip. 

He seemed to sense the turn in your attitude because he soon leaned up and kissed you open mouthed and nasty, squeezing your ass cheeks, the boy shorts you wore offering little to no protection from Erik’s groping hands, “You gon let me fuck you now, ain’tchu, baby girl?” 

Oh, this bastard. Moaning yessssss, you don’t resist when he yanks off the shirt you wore, accidentally tearing it a little before flinging it away, then yanked off the booty shorts, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his cock, teasing your wet pussy folds before pushing in alllll the way inside you. 

“You mines, you my baby girl, you gon stay wit me.” The words are quietly delivered every time he fucks up into you, and your eyes screw shut, breaths coming quick. “Say it.” A particularly hard roll of his hips punches the breath out of you, “I can stay like this all night.” 

And you know he can, he would, tease you, the both of you, until he gets what he wants. “I’m yours, your baby g-girl,” Erik sucked at your throat, intent on leaving a hickie. “I’m not gon leave you.”

It’s like your words flipped a switch or something because he’s switching positions so that you’re beneath him and he’s fucking you nice and slow. Then again, this doesn’t really feel like fucking. It’s not rough or quick, with spankings or some choking. Whatever it is, it’s intense, and the way he’s looking at you, the way he kisses your shoulder, murmuring how good your pussy feels, and other sweet, perverse things, eventually sends you over the edge. You don’t deny it when he mutters, “You my baby girl...” Right in your ear just before he pushes inside you as far as he can go, filling you with his cum. 

After all, it’s not like he’s wrong; you are his. 

[newtospnfandom-blog]

Karaoke Night (Part 2 of ?)

Summary: After a weekend of feeling like Dean was treating her like crap Y/N decides enough is enough when he teases her about her singing. three years later they end up in the same bar where she sings the very same song. What will Dean do to make her believe he is sorry and has changed?

Words: 2460

Pairing: Dean x Reader, past and future, but not present 

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, reader, Andrea(OC), Allison(OC),Breanna(OC), Cat(OC), Emily(OC), Garth (mentioned).

Warnings: none

Songs in this chapter: 1985 by Bowling for Soup, All These Years by Journey

A/n: I’ve decided to have this story span over a couple of weeks, each of the chapters after this one will contain one night. Reminder that one of these ... in the middle of the page means the POV has changed. 

As you finished up with your first song of the night the entire bar erupted into applause and cheers, which put a wide, true smile on your face. You returned the mic to Allison and walked back to the booth you shared with the girls, back to your usual drink of Captain and Coke which you could already see had been refilled while you sang. Along the way you were bombarded by a sea of hands trying to give you high fives for your performance. Other than letting you get your frustrations out about what happened between you and Dean so long ago, singing that song regularly meant you knew all the words off by heart and the timing as well, this allowed you to walk around and dance while you sang. This display always seemed to impress people more than your voice did, and you were ok with that. They would really get to experience your voice when you sang other songs later, this song was for you.

“Great job Y/N!!” Cat squealed as you reached your booth. She was always so supportive of everyone that sang, that’s one of the things you loved about going to Karaoke night with her. After two, or maybe it was three more singers it was time for another person from your group to go up.

“Wonderful as always Jason” Allison always complimented every singer, you still believed that it as her leading by example that made the crowd in this particular bar so welcoming. “Next up we have the lovely Emily singing us some Bowling for Soup, and take us back in time a little”

Debbie just hit the wall

She never had it all

One Prozac a day

Husbands a CPA

The rest of you all cheered for Emily as she sang, and man could she sing. She had mentioned to you before that she had taken singing lessons when she was younger, and it definitely showed.

Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna

Way before nirvana

There was U2 and blondie

And music still on MTV

Her two kids in high school

They tell her that she’s uncool

‘Cause she’s still preoccupied

With 19, 19, 1985

After all of your group had gone once you were still trying to decide what to sing when shit hit the proverbial fan.

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we got a newbie in the house tonight! Give a round of applause for Dean W. singing a little Journey for us” You’re positive you looked like you had seen a ghost in that moment and were glad that you were waiting on another drink because if you’d had liquid in your mouth it would have ended up on one of your friends. It couldn’t be him! What would he be doing in Canada? “Here you go handsome” Allison said as Dean went to her booth to get his mic and when he turned around to move to where he could see the screen there was no mistaking who it was. It was, in fact, Dean Winchester, the man you left on the side of the road three years ago. You suddenly felt like you were going to be sick when his eyes locked on yours just before he turned back to the screen when the music started.

A faded wedding photograph

You and me in our first dance

By now your friends had noticed your reaction to him and were trying to get your attention.

“Y/N!!! Earth to Y/N!! Are you ok? Do you know him or something?” Breanna asked after you finally snapped out of your dazed shock.

“What? Oh yeah, I knew him from before I moved here. He’s kind of the last person I ever expected to see here” you stumbled over, happy that the waitress arrived just then with your drink, she set it down and you ordered a shot of whiskey before she left.

After all these years

you stood by me

The days and nights that I was gone

After all these years

You sacrificed, believed in me

Was he singing this song for you? What was he trying to say? Either way you weren’t staying to find out. You quietly asked Andrea to let you out of the booth, you grabbed your coat and purse and headed for the door, a quick glance showed that Sam was at a table near the door. He saw you and looked like he was about to get up but you shook your head to tell him no, and thankfully he listened and rested back into his seat.

                                              ...

“Leave her alone Dean” Sam warned while your voice still carried from the speakers. You’d always had a beautiful voice, that’s not what stunned Sam, what got to him was the way you never looked at the screen and were still on time with the song. He figured you must have sang this song regularly, but he wasn’t sure. Dean had told him that you left because of something he did, but he never gave the details. “She left for a reason, and just because we ended up at her regular hotspot doesn’t mean anything.” Finally, having gotten through Sam watched as Dean turned back around in his seat, a defeated look in his eyes but that same, emotionless look on his face that he always used when he was hurting.

“Sam..” his voice was rough with emotion despite his cold expression, Sam just looked back at him questioningly. “This song… it’s… it’s the reason she finally left”

“What are you talking about Dean?” Sam asked, not fully understanding the weight of his statement. Y/N song was over by this point. Dean was looking down at his lap and Sam thought it seemed like he was playing with his fingers.

“The day she left. We were on our way back to the bunker from that strange Rugaru hunt, the one where we were ambushed by the extra two who were hiding in the back yard” Sam nodded, slowly processing the story. “I made you stay back because you had a bad case of the flu. On the way home she was singing along to that song, to Carry on Wayward Son, and she sounded just as amazing as ever!”

“But?” Sam asked as his brother trailed off, trying to get him to continue.

“But I had to go and be an idiot! I teased her about her singing. You know that sounds they use in movies of a dog howling when they hear a sound they don’t like?” Sam clenched his jaw and gave a short nod, being able to see where this story was headed finally. “Well I did that. She stopped singing and yelled at me to stop the car, so I did but before she could get out I got her to face me, I saw all the pain in her eyes. I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong, but then you called. Like dumbass I answered it… She took the opportunity to get out with her bag. She was across the road and flagging down a truck before I had a chance to say anything else to her… That damn song.”

“Dammit Dean, why would you tease her like that? You knew how much she loved to sing!!” it was obvious even in the dimly lit bar that Sam was angry with Dean, the tone of his voice said it all.

“I know she does. I thought it would be ok though!! Her and I had a special relationship going on and my teasing had never bothered her before!” Dean tried defending himself to Sam but he knew it was no use. It didn’t matter what had really happened, it was his fault Y/N had left.

“If you’re sure that teasing her that way normally would have been fine then there would have had to be something else you did that got her close to the edge.” Sam sighed, trying to help his brother make sense of the whole situation.

“Dude there is nothing. You know I would have done anything to keep her safe, I would have protected her from any kind of… DAMMIT!” Dean slammed his hand down on the table.

“What? Dean What???” Sam tried getting a response out o him but he was interrupted by the karaoke tech woman.

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we got a newbie in the house tonight! Give a round of applause for Dean W. singing a little Journey for us” She said into the mic and Dean looked at Sam in time to catch his classic bitch face before standing up and making his way across the bar to where the set up was situated. Sam told him to leave her alone but, how could he? “here you go handsome” the kind woman said into her mic in a way that lacked all flirtation. Dean turned around and while he took a few steps to get himself in place where Y/N had started out her performance his eye locked with hers from across the room. She looked pale and panicked, or like she was about to be sick. She held his gaze until Dean heard the music for his song start and so he turned around and faced the screen. Not being familiar with this song the way Y/N was with hers he had to keep his eyes on the screen or end up getting lost and that would ruin his performance. He needed to put as much emotion into this song as he could. He had to make sure Y/n knew he was sorry.

A faded wedding photograph

You and me in our first dance

He started out a little shaky, but a cheer from someone across the room gave him more confidence. Which grew more and more with each passing lyric. Getting close to the end he was really enjoying himself.

After all these years

you stood by me

The days and nights that I was gone

After all these years

You sacrificed, believed in me

The applause was loud and the cheers and whistles even louder. He returned the mic to the booth while the kind woman there called up the next singer but he couldn’t manage to focus on anything but going to Y/N and telling her how sorry he was for the misunderstanding that tore them apart all those years ago. He turned around, ready to head to the booth full of women but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw she wasn’t there. A little saddened, he returned to the table Sam and he shared.

“Dude, did you see where she went? She was there when I started my song but now she’s not there.” He didn’t bother trying to keep the disappointment from his voice, which earned another bitch face from Sam.

“Yeah, right before you finished she got up and went into the washroom” Sam pointed at the doors on the back wall of the room for emphasis “But Dean, you should really leave her be, she came all this way to be away from us.” Dean started to shake to his head in disagreement when Sam kept talking “I need a little fresh air, it’s kinda stuffy in here. Don’t let anyone steal my laptop while I’m out there.”

“Fine, but when you get back I am going to go talk to her.” Sam just rolled his eyes in response to his brother’s stubbornness and then he stood up and headed outside after Y/N.

                                                 ...

You made it to your car quickly, but not before the tears fell, ruining your make up. Once inside the comfort and solitude of your 2015 Chevy Impala you let the dam break and your chest hitched with the hard sobs. Why did he have to come and ruin the happiness you had found for yourself. You didn’t have long to try coming up with an explanation before you heard a tap on the passenger window, you looked over to see Sam bent over awkwardly gesturing for you to roll the window down. Instead you unlocked the door allowing him to join you in the warmth of your car.

“Chevy Impala… nice one.” Sam joked trying to ease the tension. You giggled, and Sam let out a deep sigh.

“Yeah, well it’s no baby but it’s still a nice car” you breathed. “Sam, what are you guys doing here? I told Dean not to follow me. I moved to Canada to ensure I was away from him.”

“Y/N, we aren’t here because we knew you were here. Garth gave us a call. He said he was in Texas taking out some vamps but that he had non-hunter family up here who were having our kind of problem… Why didn’t he get you to take care of it?” Sam questioned you.

“I don’t hunt anymore. I ditched all my old numbers. He wouldn’t have been able to get in touch with me.” You said dryly, waiting for the lecture from Sam about quitting the life.

“Look, Dean was finally trying to tell me all the details of that weekend, what he did that made you leave…”

“Sam stop, I’m not going to let you convince me to tell you why I left. And I’m not going back in there to talk to him. I’m going home for the night and then by the time I come back next week you and Dean will be long gone” You didn’t say it like a question and you didn’t mean it as one. You didn’t ant to let Dean and Sam come back into your life because you knew if they did that you would give in, you would forgive Dean for what he did.

“Okay” was all Sam said, he didn't try to press the matter further and you appreciated him for that. “Drive safely please”

“I will, have a safe drive back home Sam.” That was how you said goodbye to one of the kindest people you had ever met. That was how you indirectly said goodbye to the only man you ever loved.

Sam got out of your car but stayed put as he watched you turn the engine over and slowly pull out of the small parking lot. On your way out, you took one last look at Dean’s 67 Impala and said your final goodbye to that part of the past.

                                                     ...

“Sam, I’m starting to think something is up here, she didn’t come out of the bathroom the entire time you were outside” Dean said as his brother sat down.

“She’s gone Dean” Sam said and his brother’s eyes went wide with shock before filling with anger.

@the--blackdahlia