#you have been with me for 21 goddamn years!!!

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

why must washing your childhood plushies feel like such a harrowing experience

[webshooterrr9]

dbf!miguel staying over

i mean....... i had to eventually...

w.c: 2.6k

content warning: alcohol usage, age gap (reader is 21, Miguel is 35), smut, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it before you tap it!), slight dom/sub dynamic but not really because mig is such a sweetie and reader is sassy af, teasing because mig is secretly a meanie :(, not really tho he wants it just as much as her, big scary men whimpering!!!

sorry for y'all who don't speak spanish cuz i didn't feel like adding translations because it messed up the look but dw most of it is in english

Miguel and your father have been friends since college.

When your dad needed help with homework, Miguel was there. When your dad needed someone to pass to during the game, Miguel was there. When your dad mourned the loss of your mom, taken from the world too soon, Miguel was there. There were countless nights where Miguel would tutor your dad on subjects he struggled with after missing classes to take care of you: the angel he was gifted with in high school. Although he admits you came into his life a bit too early for comfort, he has always loved and prioritized you. And Miguel quickly became your dad’s best friend because, although he never met you, he could tell just how much your father cared about you.

And so he was always there for your dad. All through college and beyond.

It wasn’t until you started college that Miguel had the pleasure of meeting you. Your dad had planned a hangout with the three of you, telling you about how important it is to have a good friend on your side, how it helped him when times got tough.

And now you’re 21 - sitting on your childhood bed after coming home from college for the summer. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about Miguel since you’ve been home. When you met him three years ago, you were somewhat intimidated by him. How could you not? Look at the sheer size of that man. But you came to know through your school breaks that he was a lot more laid-back than you previously thought. You hate to admit it, but you’ve developed a slight crush on him. It’s stupid, you know, but how could you possibly resist those deep brown eyes and that smooth baritone voice that pulls you in every time?

Knock knock “Chiquita?”

You recognized that silky tone. It was Miguel.

“Yeah?” you say, putting your phone to the side. “Come in.” The doorknob twists and your door slowly creeps open. Behind it was that beautiful man: soft brown curls, slightly hidden by a backwards cap, a strong nose, dusty jeans that hug his legs just right, and a plain white tee with a gold cross dangling from a chain around his neck. Your dad’s best friend. Miguel.

He steps into your room and lingers by the door, a lazy smile across his face.  Dios… he was something else.

“¿Qué estás haciendo, mami? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

You sit up straighter, trying not to look as lousy as you feel. He came in here looking like a goddamn Roman god and you’re just sitting in your pjs. “Just scrolling,” you reply. “Trying to enjoy my time without homework.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Your papi invited me over,” he says, stepping further into the room. “Just to catch up and share a few Modelos.”

You watch his arms cross over his chest, the sleeves of his tee tightening around his huge arms. “Doesn’t explain why you’re in here,” you say. “Shouldn’t you be out back with him, then?”

“What, ¿no puedo saludar a la hija de mi amigo?" he laughs. “That’s not fair.” he adds with a fake pout that makes you giggle.

“I didn’t say that,” you smile. He walks over and sits on the edge of your bed. You notice his watch gleam in the sunlight filtering through your windows. “Did you come here from work? Your shirt is dirty as hell.”

“You know how it is, beba. Being a blue collar worker is a tough job.”

You snort. “Please, being a mechanic is hardly blue collar work. You stay inside a garage all day.”

“My customers would beg to differ,” Miguel says. “You should see how many señoras come into my garage looking for a replacement for their shitty husbands.”

“Makes me feel like they’re tryna put a ring on it.” he wiggles his calloused fingers in front of you for added effect.

“Well, it makes sense,” you say. “You’re about their age anyway.”

“Oye!” he laughs. “I’m thirty-five, thank you very much. Not even close to their age.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, viejo.”

The sun had set an hour ago and he hadn’t gone home yet.

Despite the amount of times Miguel offered to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome, your father insisted he stay for “ten more minutes” and handed him another beer each time. The sound of the two men laughing from the living room kept you awake. It normally wouldn’t bother you, since you’re a night owl anyway, but you have plans with your friend tomorrow that you have to wake up early for.

You exit the comfort of your bedroom and head into the living room where you find Miguel and your dad chatting loudly on the couch. Miguel’s arm is draped over the back of the sofa, which accentuates his already defined chest - not to mention the dim lamp light casting beautiful shadows on his face.

“Ah, mija, there you are!” your father exclaims, very drunkenly. “I was wondering where you were. No te he visto en todo el día!”

“Lo siento, papi.” You reply, leaning against the wall. Miguel’s stare feels hot on your skin. You can see him through your peripheral vision, looking as handsome as ever.

“Es tarde en la noche, chiquita.” Miguel says, his words coming out slower due to all the Modelo in his system. “Why are you still up?”

“That’s exactly why I came in here; to tell you two to shut up.”

“¡Oye! Watch your mouth, mija.” your dad says sternly, while Miguel just chuckles.

“Sorry, pequeña,” Miguel says, setting his beer down on the coffee table. “We’ll keep it down. But don’t swear at your padre, yeah? Respect your elders.”

“Uh huh.” you shrug, waving the two men goodbye as you retire to your bedroom. You were sure that Miguel would still be there when you woke up in the morning, but hopefully he’ll be passed out by then and not still chatting with your dad.

----

You fall asleep almost immediately. The newly-installed fan in your room helped rid the summer heat and cool your bedroom to a comfortable temperature, while still allowing you to snuggle up under the blankets. A band tee and plain panties is all you wore, which was normal for you unless you were staying at a friend's house - at which point you’d obviously throw on some shorts. The moon shining through your windows acts as a sort of night-light, and you’re soothed to sleep by the crickets outside and the less-deafening sound of chatter from your living room.

Your alarm wakes you up around 8am, which is earlier than you normally start your day. As you go to turn off the noise, you hear a tired groan come from behind you. “Mmph… turn that off.”

You flinch and turn around, covering yourself with your blankets at the stranger in your bed. But it wasn’t a stranger. It was Miguel.

“Miguel!” you whisper-shout, nudging his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

He huffs and pushes his face into your pillow, and this is your first chance to get a good look at him. He’s shirtless, of course, but his muscular frame isn’t what draws you to him. His hair is tousled from sleep in a way you haven’t seen before, a grumpy pout peeking out from the pillow he’s buried his face in. He still has his gold chain around his neck, but he seems to have discarded his hat and jeans - which you see laying on your floor. You knew this man was gorgeous… but this was the most stunning you’ve ever seen him. The morning light only makes it better.

“Tu papá durmió en el sofá,” he mumbled, the sleepiness of his voice making him sound more attractive than ever. “And his room was too hot to sleep in.”

“That doesn’t explain why you decided to crawl into my bed unannounced.” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, and one of his arms slides under his pillow to prop himself up. “Cálmate, princesa. You had tons of room and it was cool in here.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

You sit up and brush the hair out of your face, trying to wake yourself up so that you can get ready. Miguel sleepily snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you back down. Your head flops on the pillow and messes up your hair once again.

“Quédate, mami. Sleep with me.” he mumbles, closing his eyes once more.

“E-Excuse me!?” Oh you were definitely blushing now. No way he just said that! You knew that he didn’t actually mean it like that… but you also knew that he wasn’t dumb. Whether his intentions were pure or not, you knew that he worded it that way on purpose. Was your silly little crush reciprocated?

He hugs you closer to him, pulling you flush against his bare chest. The cold metal of his necklace makes you shiver, especially in contrast with how hot his body is. Temperature, you mean.

“You heard me.” he doubles down.

“Do you even-”

“I know what I said, chiquita.” Miguel opens his eyes now - the lazy drawl of his voice becoming more awake and purposeful. His gaze on you is unbearable. You could feel the intensity of his stare. “And I know what I meant.”

You stare at him in silence. How could you speak? The man who you’ve had a crush on since you started college was in your bed, half naked, making a move on you. Part of you thinks that he’s waited long enough to finally do this, but another part of you feels some sort of guilt. He’s over a decade older than you, and a family friend no less. You can see through his eyes that he feels similarly, but his passion is overpowering any sense of guilt. Besides, you’re both adults. How bad could it be?

He leans over you, pinning you down onto your own mattress. A position that’s typically domineering, and yet, you can see his gaze soften uncharacteristically for him. He brushes a strand of loose hair away from your face.

“Que linda…” he mumbles, eyes trailing all over your face. “Eres tan hermosa.”

Miguel leans his face closer to yours, his gold cross dangling from his neck and touching yours. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. You’re stunned but also… excited?

“Miguel.”

“Yes?”

“Quiero sentirte.” you whisper, your eyes meeting his. You hear his breath catch in his throat. “Tócame. Hazme el amor.”

He chuckles, a flirty pout crossing his face. “Oh, pobrecita…” he grins, tracing your jawline with his dexterous fingers. Your face tilts up closer to his, your lips brushing as he speaks. “You know I can’t do that.”

...

What?

“Why not?” he can visibly hear the disappointment in your voice. It almost makes him feel bad, especially with how beautiful you look in the morning light.

“Don’t wanna wake your papi, nena.” he caresses your face once more, leaning back a little so he can look at your face properly. “I can’t make you scream while everyone else is asleep. We have to keep this a secret. But where’s the fun in sex if I can’t hear your pretty whines, hm?”

You smack his chest. “Oh fuck off, Mig. Come here.”

Before he can respond, you grab him by his necklace and drag him down to your lips. The moment your mouths connect, it’s like fireworks going off in his head. He swears you taste better than any bizcocho he’s ever had. Miguel holds your waist as you tangle your hands through his hair, and he lets out a soft groan. His hips involuntarily rut against your thigh, and he decides he can’t take it anymore.

His hand dips between the two of you to tug your panties down, freeing your skin to his touch. His thumb lazily circles your clit, while the other calloused hand is still resting on your hips. He feels like he’s in heaven, feeling you squirm underneath him, but he knows this is only the start of the fun you’ll have together. He swallows every sound you make with his lips on yours, his tongue fighting with yours for control. He pulls his hands back once he’s sure that you’re wet and ready. You two are gasping for air by the time your lips part, and his deep eyes look into yours with a silent plea. You nod your head desperately.

Miguel makes quick work of removing what little clothes he had left on his lower body before sinking into your warmth, slowly but surely. You gasp.

He leans his forehead against yours, savoring the moment of stillness. It’s like you two are in your own little bubble - no one else can interfere. He kisses you lovingly as he starts to move, silencing any moans or sighs you might have that others could hear. You’re just for him, no one else can experience you. His thrusts are slow, but agonizingly deep. You feel it deep in your core, kissing your cervix with every push of his hips forward.

“God…” he whines. “You feel so fucking good. So good for me, baby.” You arch against him, your hands dragging along his back for support. He glances down at where your two bodies connect, and the sight almost makes him pass out. “Que cosita más linda, mami.” he whispers.

“Damelo… please..” you whine, scrunching your eyes shut with all the pleasure you feel.

“I am, nena, I am. It’s all for you, princesa. I promise.”

His pace speeds up a little more, but he’s still pushing into you just as deep, “Show me you love it, baby. Mírame.”

You meet his gaze with glassy eyes, breathing heavily and nails digging into his back. You wrap your legs around his slim waist and he throws his head back at the tighter feel. “That’s it, baby. Así así…”

He’s rutting into you wildly, chasing his high. You look down to watch as his dick disappears into your cunt. The wet sounds of his hips smacking yours clouds your mind. Each roll of his hips brings you closer to the edge. “You’re so pretty, muñeca. So so pretty f’me.”

His large hands sneak under your t-shirt and grope your tits, squeezing and caressing in a way that makes you hazy. “Want you to look at me while I fill you up. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nod your head frantically, scratching the skin of his shoulders. You’ve never wanted anything more. The two of you are getting dangerously close to climax, and you swear you can hear him whimper.

“God, baby, feels so fucking good. No puedo más, no puedo más…!”

A squeal escapes you as he spills into your heat, with your own crescendo arriving shortly after. There’s a creamy white ring around his base as he starts to slow the roll of his hips. Miguel eventually stills and collapses, hugging you close in the same sort of cuddle as before, but still resting inside you.

After the exhaustion wears off, you pull back to stare into his eyes. A hand comes up to cup his face, rubbing his flushed cheek gently. “That was fucking amazing, Mig. I haven’t felt that good in so long.”

He laughs softly, returning your affectionate gaze. “Do you think your papi heard us?”

“Definitely not.” you giggle. “He’s a heavy sleeper.”

“That’s good.” Miguel holds you for a few more minutes, just silently staring at you. You can’t even imagine how blissed out you must look right now, but it’s all so gorgeous to him. “Eres increíble, mi vida.”

You hum in delight, stroking his cheeks once more. “You too, mi cielo.”

... you're gonna have to cancel your plans for today.

sort of switched to Miguel's pov in the last section cuz i wanted to experiment :))))

i hope you guys liked it!! dbf!miguel inspiration from @mybvalentine

and yes... he's a mechanic. it just suits him ok??

----

webshooterrr9

[gojos-version]

How scandalous!

Pairings- Y/N x Dad's best friend! Toji Fushiguro

Summary- Your dad’s best friend stays the night and you are too coincidentally! This is part 1. Part 2 can be found here!

Warnings- Size kink, tummy bulge, anal, vibrator used, reader gets fucked in a closet, unprotected sex, breeding and kissing.

Word count- 4k words!!

Proof read- ✅

A/N- HIII yes, I made this filthy why? this is a filthy troupe. anyway, I've finally finished this at 4am giggles. By the way reader is 21 and Tojis around 40. I really enjoyed writing this it got my creativity GOING and my jenis hard. writing this made me tickle my pickle so I hope you enjoy this, and it tickles your pickle too!! :33

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You knock on your dads door. You don't live with him anymore since you got a place of your own, but you still visit when you can. The door opens revealing your dad, his eyes lighten up at the sight of you. “Sweetheart! I haven't seen you in so long!” Your dad brings you in for a tight hug making you laugh, “I know it’s been too long, I've been so busy I'm sorry dad! Is it okay if I stay 2 nights? So we can catch up?”, “Ofcourse, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want!” Your dad lets go of you and moves aside so you can come in. “Oh and by the way, Toji’s coming to stay the night tonight” Your dad adds unexpectedly. What. what. Toji??!! Oh god. Your heart flutters at the thought. You can't lie to yourself growing up. Toji was around alot with your dad, since your mum wasn't around Toji helped your dad out alot with you. 

Ever since you were younger you always had a crush on him. You're 21 now but god you still don't have a boyfriend. Nothing seems appealing about any of them men you’ve been on a talking stage with. You tried to move on from your childish crush. But how could you when he was so goddamn sexy. “O-oh? He’s staying the night? That's surprising I didn't think I'd see him!” You play off cooly, ignoring your thumping heart. 

You put your bag down in your old childhood bedroom and take it all in. nothing changed, everythings still where it used to be. Even the clothes you left here last time you slept over were in the closet. “Y/N! I’m going to the store real quick! Please answer the door if it rings!” Your dad yells out, you let out an “Okay!” and you hear the door shut. You walk out into the living room and sit down watching TV mindlessly. All of a sudden you hear the doorbell ring and you jump onto your feet, looking in the peephole you see him. There he is. Standing with his hands in his pockets and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His big. Muscular. Shoulder. 

You open the door after calming yourself down. “Long time no see.” you greet him, the tip of your ears go red, thankfully he can't see them because your hair covers them. “Didn't see ya there, doll, ‘t's been a while.” the scar on his lip twitching as he smirks. He takes you in, it's been a good year or two since he's seen you, you're wearing a top and a skirt but god does the top hug your curves and the skirt sitting just right stopping at your mid thigh. His Adam apple bobs as he swallows, “Mhm, it has” You smile curtly. Stepping to the side so he can come in. “Dads gone up to the shops to get something, I'm not sure when he’ll be back.” You continue, fiddling with your fingers. 

“Mm, that's fine, doll” He says, putting his duffel bag on the couch before he continues, “You look pretty, doll since the last time i've seen ya, you've grown a lot.” You feel your cheeks heat up in response, your heart thumping against your chest. Why were you feeling this way? You’re over your childhood crush on him..well you thought so at least. “I-Thank you.. You’re not so bad for an old man.” You play it off in a teasing voice, he lets out a laugh, “Old huh?” He grins, “Yeah, you're pushing 40 old man, be careful you might break your back tying your shoes.” You retort, His eye twitches “Yeah? You seem oddly flustered by this ‘old man’ hm? You think i dont notice you clenching your thighs together, doll?” He steps closer to you with a smirk that makes your little cunt throb with need.

“I-How’d you notice-” You gasp out, “You’re clenching your thighs together like a little slut.” You feel yourself gulp as he moves closer to you, his larger hand cupping your chin, tilting your face up to look into his green orbs.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be so turned on by his simple touch. You shouldnt be wanting to fuck your dads best friend. You shouldnt be craving Toji’s cock deep inside of you right now. His thick thumb thumbs at your bottom lip and without thinking you take his thumb into your mouth and suck on it sensually. Swirling the tip of your tongue around the tip is his thumb, you then move your tongue to the underside of his thumb as you suck hard. Toji grunts out a moan as he takes his thumb out of your mouth. “You little fuckin’ slut.” Is what you hear before he's crashing his lips onto yours. Hard. his tongue dominating your mouth making your back arch towards his body, his hands coming down to cup and squeeze your ass. His tongue greedily swallows the moans coming out of your throat, his tongue exploring the crevices of your mouth making you oh so wet. You were certain you were leaking down your thighs. 

“Jump.” He mutters against your lips, kissing you again and you do as he says, your legs wrapping around his large bulky waist. The scar on his lip rubbing against your mouth made you feel oh so turned on. He carries you to a bedroom. You don't know which bedroom he took you to. But you couldn't care right now. He shoves you on the bed and no he doesnt pull your top off. The man rips it off and throws your bra behind him and when he starts sucking on your breasts you can't help but gasp and moan pathetically. “T-toji-! A-ah!”, “Quiet doll. Needa hear when your dad opens the door so we don't get caught.” he grunts out, his free hand fondling your tit that's not getting his mouth's attention. Your back arches towards him making your tit go somehow further in his mouth. “P-please-!” you don't even know what you're begging for. “Please huh? What are you begging for, sweetheart?” He nibbles on your nipple making your hands fly to his hair and tug harshly on his scalp.

“Need you so baaaadd” You whimper out, grinding your wet little cunt pathetically on his chiselled torso. “Yer so fukin’ desperate, doll. Relax your little cunt.” He grunts out moving to assault your other tit with his tongue. You let out a pathetic whimper, your panties are drenched, your thighs are covered in your own slick from rubbing them together for friction and now Toji’s abdomen is soaked from you pathetically rubbing your cunt on him. Both your nipples drenched with his saliva, he nips his way down to your skirt and panties. “Careful doll. Yer drenching your dads bed. Wouldn't want him to find out about this would we?” He pulls your skirt off leaving you in your drenched panties. 

What. what. We’re not in the spare room or my old bedroom??!! Your heart rate picks up in panic. “T-toji- you didn't go to the spare room or my old room?? Are you crazy?? We need to not do this here or he’ll find out-” He cuts you off with a sharp slap to your clothed cunt. His large thumb presses gently on your clothed clit moving down to your hole he puts more pressure humming in satisfaction as your cunt opens; when all he's done was suck on your now sore boobs.

“Quit yer whining, girl.” He snarls, pushing his thumb into your clothed hole making you whimper harshly. “T-toji- need you- stop teasing. Puhlease!” You look down at him and he smirks. “Don't be a brat and tell me what to do.” He grunts out finally pulling your soaked, dripping panties down and the nasty man shoves it in his pocket. “Hey- my panties-ah!” he cuts you off by licking a stripe on your cunt. “‘M keeping it for later, you dont mind right, doll?” He says before sucking on your clit, his thick fingers circling your hole before he pushes in 2 fingers knuckle deep. You cry out at the sudden intrusion. He starts suckling on your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of your puckered hole with a loud squelch with every thrust of his fingers. Your fingers grip at his hair tugging him closer to you, and god you moan so loud when the scar on his lip makes contact with you. Your eyes crossed and head back you don't realise he's sinking another finger into you before he starts thrusting 3 fingers in and out of your cunt rhythmically.

“To-oojjiii-! Ah! O-oh my god-! A-ah!” You grip his scalp, your manicured nails massaging him. He moans into your sopping cunt adding to your pleasure. His thick fingers stretch your cunt and you clench around him taking his thick fingers in. The stimulation of his tongue on his clit and his fingers curling to your g spot with every hit made you unexpectedly squirt all over his chin. “I-im shoorryy-!!! Aah!!” You squeal out and he pulls away. He pulls his pants down exposing his thick throbbing cock. 

You gape at his length dripping with precum. It's so big and thick. He jerks his cock making it twitch, “Don’t be so shocked, doll, don't tell me you can't take it, hm?” He teases, he rubs his leaking tip along your folds making you gasp. Resting his heavy length along your hot cunt has you panting. Your lips part around his thick, heavy cock welcoming him to sink inside of you. But he stays there for a bit, both of you panting, “P-please..need to feel you..” You whimper out looking at him with doe eyes. 

“For that ‘m gonna breed you.” That's the last thing you hear before he pushes his thick, long cock inside of you making your hands fly to his shoulders and gripping him with all your might as he sinks inside of you. He sinks in balls deep, his balls slapping against your ass as he’s got his entire cock inside of you. It kisses your cervix oh so perfectly. It's like you were made for him. He pulls his hips back then drives his hip back to hit your cervix, each thrust feels so deep. “A-ah! To-jii- O-oh my god- ah!” you babble mindlessly as he thrusts inside of you, every thrust to the hilt. He drags his cock almost out, tip remaining in your puffy walls then slamming them back to hit your cervix. Again. Again. And again. 

His tall broady frame leans over yours, taking your right leg and pushing it to your chest, his thigh goes over your other leg as a lewd plap! Plap! Plap! Is all you can hear besides your loud squelches your cunt makes. Your body’s tingling all over like electricity zapping all through your veins continuously, his thrusts are the only thing you can feel the pleasure making you cry out with every drag of his hips. His hand snakes down to your tummy where his big cock makes a bulge with every move of his hips. He presses down harshly making you scream out, dumb tears dripping down your face. His other hand lets go of your thigh and rubs harsh infinity circles on your clit making your legs shake at how much stimulation he's giving you.

“Yeah. that's it, girl, take it. Take it you fucking slut.” He grunts out his hips continuously slamming into yours faster and faster and faster. “T-tojii!! I’m coominnggg-a-ah!!” You scream out suddenly squirting all over him. His thighs and abdomen drenched in your wetness. With a grunt he fills you up with so much cum. It practically leaks out even with his cock filling you. All of a sudden as you're both panting you hear the door open, “Y/n! I’m home! Toji, i see your bag!” Your dad yells out announcing his presence and you both freeze. Your blood runs cold. No way. His footsteps around the house, “Hello? Where are you both?”, “Toji..” You whisper to him nervously. “Shit.” He mutters under his breath, Toji picks you up and kicks both of your clothes under the bed and goes in the closet. “Shut the door f’me doll.” He whispers into your ear, his breath fanning over your ear making you clench around his cock. Thankfully your dad had a dark blanket on so it wasn't noticeable and the window open. It worked in your favours surprisingly. 

He leaned his back next to the doors on the wall, your dads clothes right next to you both as your legs were wrapped around his waist, cock still inside of you and your arms wrapped around his neck. Toji starts thrusting harshly suddenly inside of you and you rush to cover your mouth to stop the moans pouring out of your mouth. Tojis hands grip your ass, spreading your cheeks and moving your hips slamming them down onto his cock and he thrusts his cock up into you making you clench your hand harder around your mouth to silence your moans. Toji bites your shoulder to keep himself quiet as well, your eyes flit next to you, the closet doors; they had shutters on them so you could see the bed..and if your dad walked in..but he couldn't see the both of you which was good! Right? It was really hard to stay quiet when Toji’s thick mushroom tip was kissing your womb making your legs shake around him.

Your tits flat against his hard pecs, bouncing up and down when his hips met yours harshly adding to both of your stimulations. “Y/n? Toji? Where are you both??” Your dad then opens the door, walking in and looking around his room, you tap Toji’s shoulder to warn him and if anything his thrusts get harsher. Making you fight so hard to stay quiet. Your dad for a minute looks at the closet, coming closer to it then stopping himself, “Maybe they went for a walk..” He mumbles, walking out and shutting the door sitting on the couch. You could tell by which direction his footsteps were walking and the sound of the TV turning on.

The hand that isn't gripping your mouth grips the back of Toji’s neck as he doesnt stop thrusting into you, your body heats up, the knot in your stomach tightening signalling your release is coming. Your walls clench around his cock basically choking his poor dick. Your hand lets go of your mouth, “T-to-ji! Ah-ah! I’m g-gonna- ah! Ah! Ah!” You rush to cover your mouth again, your slick and his cum from earlier dripping down yours and his legs. Suddenly the elastic band that's your release snaps and you cum hard. Your eyes roll back and shut, you feel like you're above heaven. White pleasure filling your veins as you shake all over.

“S-shit!” He moans out, filling you up with his come, your tummy bulging a bit from how much he filled you up. You're not even finished coming down from your high before his foot kicks the closet door open and he pulls out, putting you on the ground with your ass in the air and chest on the floor. “T-toji- what are you- annghh!” You couldn't even finish talking before he spanks your ass, spreading your cheeks apart. This big thumb goes over your ass hole. “What do ya think, doll? Reckon I can make it fit, hm?” his thumb circles your little hole and you gasp. “W-wait- oh!” He spits on your hole and runs his pointer finger through your soaked folds and sinks his finger into your ass.

You slap your palm on your mouth again as he fingers your ass open, it feels so weird but it felt so good at the same time. You're moaning against your hand, forgetting to put your pressure against your mouth as he fits a 2nd hand in, your ass wet from how much he's spitting on it to lubricate it. “Mm lets see if we can fit another finger, kay doll?”, “H-hurtttss Toj’” you whimper out, you push your cheek further into the ground when he slowly does, bucking your hips towards him. He jerks his cock with his free hand and takes his fingers out. “Ready, doll?”, “Y-yeah..” You brace yourself; ready to feel his member push into you. God you didn't expect it to feel this good. His big fat tip pushes slowly into your ass, spitting occasionally on your hole so it goes in easier. Your hand gripping your face so tightly to avoid screaming out. 

Slowly his entire cock is inside of you to the hilt, his balls against your puffy clit. He starts thrusting sloppily into your ass making your eyes cross. Toji reaches over you grabbing a vibrator? “Hid this here last week when i was over. Knew id fuck the shit out of you when id eventually see ya.” He grunts out as he turns it on to max speed and shoves it into your needy cunt making you drool dumbly on the floor. You try to crawl away from his merciless thrusts but when you try to he drags you back and thrusts so fucking hard you feel the air in your lungs leave.

The vibrator isn't helping you either as it buzzes inside of you, it has a compartment that vibrates your clit too which really doesn't help right now because you feel like squirting everywhere if you even could anymore. “That's it. Take it. Take all of it.” He grunts out his chest against your back, pinning you to the ground not like you could move anyway. Your body feels like it's zapping and on fire, the pleasure too intense. Your free hand that's not covering your mouth scratches at the carpet, your eyes shutting as the knot in your tummy is tightening for the third time and it's not even night. You're panting under your hand, your walls clenching around his cock and the vibrator. 

Suddenly you feel like you're higher than the sky. You're shaking. You can feel Toji’s cum filling up your ass with so much cum again. Your orgasm comes crashing down like a freight train as you squirt all over him again. Making your juices drip off the both of you. “Get dressed. We gotta act like nothing happened, kay doll?” His deep voice rings through your ears and you pout; “You ripped my clothes you brute!” Whisper shouting it and he gives you an innocent look, “Oops, not my fault you wore such a slutty outfit.” He retorts, pulling out of you but keeping the vibrator on low. “W-wait aren't you pulling it out-” “No. keep it in.” He cuts you off and slips his clothes on, leaving the room. What you didn't know was he could control the vibrator with his phone. Oh youre so fucked. But you didn't know that yet.

You slip your skirt on and bra and well.. Your tops.. Ripped. You open the door and tip toe to your childhood bedroom past your dad and now Toji on the couch, you go and look in your bag for some panties. Thank god you always bring extra panties. You slip them on and put on a top, fixing your dishevelled hair and you freeze suddenly. Did the vibrator just go faster? Oh god. You throb putting your hand over your mouth. What the fuck do you do?? You can't slip up around your dad.. 

You clear your throat and walk to the lounge room and greet your dad and Toji. “Oh dad you're home? Hi Toji” You smile, trying to hide the shaking in your voice. Your dad smiles, “Where were you?” “Oh-! I was out front and some lady needed my help with something.” You play off cooly and your dad nods his head, “Ah! That’s good, you’ve always been helping people. Isn't that right, Toji?” “Yeah, she's a good kid.” Toji nods and opens his phone. Oh he better not. You felt the vibrator go on level 3 and your ears heat up. Shit. you chew on your cheek and smile. “Do you want-uh- tea or anything?”, “Sure, sweetheart, Toji do you want anything?” Your dad turns to him and Toji throws you a little smirk making your cheeks flush. “Yeah why not”, “okay” You nod and go to the kitchen, turning the kettle on.

You gasp and cover your mouth as the intensity goes up 1? No 2? F-fuck no. 3. Levels. Your thighs clench together and you're pretty sure Toji’s cum’s still dripping onto your panties. Fuck. you're on level 6 and you feel like exploding. Your hands grip the edge of the counter trying to keep it together, your knuckles turning white. Shit. it turned up again?? This has to be level 7..yet..fuck. No you can't cum. Not now. The tea kettle dings that it's ready and you clench as hard as you can to keep yourself together. You struggle to get both cups and pour the hot water into the mugs. You get tea bags and put them in stirring it, you gasp loudly and cover your mouth. Fuck. level 8 by now. Shit. shit. Shit. its stimulating your clit and your cunt. Fuck. fuck. Fuck.

Maybe you could just cum then give them the tea? Shit no he wouldn't turn it off and you'd be overstimulated. And that makes you come quicker. Fuck what do you do?? Your heart thumps and your body feels hot all over. Shit. y/n. Give them the tea and say you gotta go to the bathroom. Yeah. you can do this. You grab both the mugs shakily and walk to them. Fuck Toji looks so good you wanna jump on him so bad and bounce on his dick. Shit you can't. “Here you g-go its d-done.” You try not to let the shaking get to your voice, “Thank you sweetheart” Your dad chimes, “Thank you, doll” Tojis deep voice rings out.

As you walk away, the level increases again making you jump slightly. Fucking hell you were going to kill Toji. “Where are you going? Spend time with us, ‘ts been a while since i've seen ya kid” Toji says, taking a sip of tea and smirking over at you. “I-i need to go to the bathroom. Then I will.” You then rush out to the bathroom leaning against the back of the door as the level finally hits 10. Shit. your hand covers your mouth and your free hand gropes your tit as you cum. Hard. all in your poor panties. Fuck. fuck the vibrator isnt slowling down either. You slink down and sit on the floor, your legs shaking as you wither in overstimulation. 

The door suddenly pushes open, you slide away from the impact; enough so Toji can step in. his menacing smirks all you can see and fucking hell it makes that knot tighten again in your core. “T-toji..” You let out breathily, “Hmm? Yer so worked up, doll” He picks you up and bends you over the sink, a mirror in front of both of you. He pulls your skirt up and moves your panties to the side. He pulls the vibrator out of you and shuts it off, he then slips his cock out of his sweats and sinks deep into your sloppy cunt. Your hand clamps over your mouth as his hand grips your hair and forces you to watch his hips slam into yours. 

The hand that's not gripping your hair moves to your throat and applies enough pleasure to make the corner of your vision slightly blur. Fuck. you weren't going to make it out alive. The worst part is Toji didn't even lock the door. You were both fucked if your dad gets suspicious and walks in. but right now you couldn't care less when Toji’s tip was bullying your cervix. He pushes your head closer to the mirror and one knee goes on the sink deepening his thrusts making your muffled moans go louder. Your body was tingling so good. All of a sudden the door opens and your dad stands there, mouth agape in shock and Toji stills inside of you.

“We need to fucking talk.”

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

Masterlist<3

[drdemonprince]

the reactive exclusion of minors from queer spaces has been such a fucking bugbear of mine. i moved out at 16, and trying to exist in any goddamn queer spaces with adults for two years meant i had to not mention how old i was or get booted (if they werent checking ids on the door because it was an 18 or 21+ venue). people never guessed that i was as young as i was because i carried myself like someone older, but if i told someone i thought i could trust then word would get around and people would start being weird and treating me like i'm not a person. people would also be treating other activity-focused spaces as cruising spaces (something i dont have anything against, i do it now) but when someone would hit on me and i would reject them they would hear about my age from someone else and freak the fuck out for "making them a nonce" or "being jailbait" or just "making them uncomfortable" and a not-explicitly-sexual space that people would go and have sex outside of would be deemed "inappropriate for minors" because people were having sex outside of it (i was also having sex outside of it. i dont know what they thought they were preventing). i got kicked out of (ahem, sorry, politely asked to leave) a queer choir for this. im the reason a fucking trans rock climbing group is explicitly 18+. like come on guys its fucking boulders, i can safeguard myself, you're just so terrified of young people you functionally hate them.

yeah anon i have straight up seen people on here claiming that if a person under 18 follows them without disclosing they are a minor, that minor is in fact abusing THEM, the adult, by putting them at risk of being accused of pedophilia. its fucking NUTS that we have such an upside-down approach to building community and keeping ourselves safe from Allegations that we actively treat young people as if they are the threat and isolate them. i'm so sorry you have had to deal with this.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 21: That's Been a Long Time Comin', Baby

You and Joel have a long overdue conversation. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 20, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Nothing really! Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 4.3k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You finally get arrested and it’s by goddamn rent-a-cops,” Tommy was beaming as he and Joel made their way from the police station to his truck. “Only you could make gettin’ in trouble this fuckin’ lame.” 

“It wasn’t a rent-a-cop,” Joel said, grinding his teeth. “It was university police.” 

“That’s a rent-a-cop.” 

“They’re real police!” Joel said. 

Tommy scoffed. 

“Not like you’re gonna have a record now.” 

“Only because they let me go without charging me with shit,” Joel said. “No idea why… Shouldn’t have even called you, wasn’t trying to waste your time.” 

“Not like you knew they were going to just let you go,” Tommy said, serious now. “I was Googling attorneys and shit, I thought I was going to have to bail your ass out for a change. Nice that they didn’t lock you up.” 

“Yeah,” Joel said as they reached Tommy’s truck. They got in and buckled up and Joel sighed, looking out the window. “Just wish I knew why.” 

He was at a loss. The police had hauled him out of your office so fast he didn’t even get a chance to find out what you were thinking, if you had anything at all to say. If he was right about the book, God he hoped he was right about the book. 

He thought - or maybe just hoped - that you’d show up at the police station. They threw him in a holding cell with a few college-aged fuckups and he watched the door, half convinced that you’d come walking in. Like if he just stared at it long enough you’d appear, come inside and walk right up to the bars and grab him and kiss him. Or at least yell at him. 

But you didn’t. 

Instead, he just stood there, watching the door, until a cop came over to take his information and  gave him the chance to call someone. Tommy got there about the same time as the same cop came over to tell Joel that he was free to go, at least for now. 

“So,” Tommy said eventually, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. “You gonna tell me exactly how you got your ass arrested by rent-a-cops?” 

Joel quirked his jaw. 

“Not saying you have to or anything,” Tommy continued. “But if you don’t tell me I will just make up some shit and it’ll be lame. Real lame. Like they caught you with a flask on campus and mistook you for a freshman lame.” 

“I…” Joel sighed. “I might have done something stupid.” 

“Likely thing for you to do,” Tommy said. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tommy said. “I’ll lay off but… c’mon, man. This is weird for you. You got me worried, you don’t do shit like this.” 

“I know,” Joel said, wondering if maybe he’d done something like this sooner - like when he saw that fucking guy kissing you years ago - maybe everything would be different now. “I… I read Goldie’s book.” 

“Alright…” Tommy said, glancing his way. “Last time I checked, that ain’t illegal.” 

“It’s not,” Joel said. “But… I’d never read it before and… Look, maybe I’m crazy, maybe it’s all fiction but it don’t feel like fiction and… I think she… she might… she might feel the same way I do.” 

“Oh shit,” Tommy laughed, grinning like an idiot. “Fuck yeah, man!” 

“I went to talk to her,” Joel said. “But she was there with her fucking husband and I overheard one of her students say he hit on her and then I went to her office and he was kissing her and I… I just… I punched him.” 

“Good for you!” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. “About damn time somebody put that jackass in his place. What’d Goldie say?” 

“Not much,” Joel sighed. “Not like we got a chance to really talk. Said the book was ancient history, asked why I cared… Kept hoping she’d show up at the station but…” 

Tommy pulled up alongside Joel’s truck and he sighed. 

“Least I wasn’t locked up when I needed to get Sarah from school,” he muttered. 

“Don’t matter,” Tommy said. “I’m gonna go get her.” 

“What?” Joel laughed. 

“Not going to let you chicken out on this shit,” Tommy said. “I got Sarah, you go talk to Goldie. Actually talk to her, not yell some shit at her and then punch her husband. You’re finally - fucking finally - doing something about it. You’re finally going after what you want and I’m not going to let you give up because you got arrested by some mall cop on steroids.” 

“Tommy…” 

“I’m serious,” Tommy said. “I’ll get Sarah from school, she can stay with me tonight. Go get your girl, Joel.” 

Joel smiled a little. His brother might have more faith in him than he deserved but goddamn, it felt good. 

“Alright,” Joel said. “I’m gonna go get my girl.” 

He went to call you, just in case you unblocked him, but his phone was broken, the entire outer case bent - probably from when one of the cops wrestled him away from your office. He considered, for a minute, just going back to your office but he didn’t want to get arrested again. 

So he went home, just to grab your book. He wasn’t really sure why but he wanted it. He wanted to hold it in his hands, have something solid and yours there with him while he did this. He took a quick look in the mirror, feeling a little like the boy he was when he went to pick you up for prom. Everything felt so consequential, the way his hair fell against his forehead and the way his shirt hung on his body, anything that might help you look at him like he was something worth wanting suddenly vitally important in his reflection. 

“Right,” he said to no one but himself before taking a deep breath. “Now or never.” 

He drove to your house. He thought about getting flowers or something on the way but what if that was too much? What if this wasn’t what you wanted and something like flowers made it worse? Why didn’t he just know what to do? Loving you felt like the most natural thing in the world, why wasn’t telling you just as easy?

He came to your door with nothing but your book in his hands and he was pretty sure you weren’t home but he knocked, anyway. He paced for a minute when you didn’t answer, then stood there, clenching his jaw and staring out at the road like a dumbass before he decided to just sit down and wait because what the fuck else was he going to do. 

After what felt like forever - but probably wasn’t much time at all - Joel opened the book. 

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular but he found himself lingering on the parts where Cressida and Eli were together and, if not happy, at least hopeful. He was reading a passage where they were all tangled up in each other and while it was sensual, the intimacy of it came from the deep knowing and understanding the two shared. It was a feeling, Joel thought, that could only be found in one person. He’d spent half his life searching for it again and never found it and he wanted it, he wanted it so bad it hurt. 

“When you said you read it, I assumed it was the whole thing, not just the first 50 pages.” 

Joel’s head shot up from the book and found you standing on your walk with your house keys in your hand. 

He jumped up, snapping the book shut when he did. 

“I did,” he said. “I was just… I wanted to read it again. Parts of it again.” 

You nodded slowly and walked up to him, stopping close enough that he could reach out and grab you and kiss you if you’d just let him. 

“I tried calling,” you said. “It went straight to voicemail.” 

“Oh, uh,” Joel passed the book from one hand to the other and pulled his phone out, holding it up as proof. “It broke, probably when I got arrested but… well, since you blocked my number, wasn’t too worried about it.” 

You frowned, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Blocked you? I didn’t block you.” 

“Think you did,” Joel laughed a little. “Believe it or not, turning up at your office wasn’t my first choice but I got a message that said your number was unavailable when I called so…” 

Your frown deepened and you pulled out your phone, scrolling on it for a moment before gaping at the screen. 

“Son of a bitch,” you swore. “That…” You looked at Joel again. “I didn’t block you, I’m guessing Gale did sometime in the last few days…” 

“Where is your husband?” Joel asked, looking over your shoulder. “Not gonna let me get another swing on him is he?” 

You laughed once. 

“He’s at the hospital,” you said. “I don’t think he’ll be showing his face here any time too soon.” 

“Good,” Joel said. “You deserve better than that asshole.” 

You smiled tightly. 

“What are you doing here, Joel.” 

“I…” he searched your face for some indication of what you thought, what you wanted, but even though he knew your face better than any other he couldn’t seem to read you. “I needed to see you, I had to see you, baby, I…” 

You bit your lip and he fought the urge to pull it free of your teeth and run his thumb over you there. 

“Let’s go inside,” you said. “We… we can talk. Just talk. If that’s OK.” 

His heart beat a little faster. He could work with that. 

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Let’s talk.” 

***

Your heart was pounding, so hard and fast you thought Joel must be able to hear it. 

But if he could, he didn’t say anything. You just let the two of you into your house and tried to force yourself to stay calm, to not let your racing thoughts get too far ahead of yourself. 

You hadn’t expected to find him on your front porch when you got home. You’d called him. You’d called the police station again but he’d left by then. You’d even tried going by his house but no one was home and you had this sinking feeling that you’d blown it, somehow. Not that you even knew what ‘it’ was but it seemed as though the moment in your office was a breaking point you didn’t know existed and it was behind you now and there was nothing you could do to get it back. 

And then Joel was there on your porch, a copy of your book in his hands, one that he was reading so intently he hadn’t even noticed you drive up. 

You hung your bag on a hook and put your keys in the dish by the door and Joel followed behind you, his eyes intent enough on you that you could feel them even at your back. 

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” You asked, more for something to say than anything else because what the fuck were your supposed to say in this situation? 

“Not here for a drink, Goldie.” 

“OK,” you said, turning to face him as you stood in the middle of your living room because sitting down felt too strange. You crossed your arms over your chest to keep from touching him. “Why are you here, Joel?” 

“I read your book,” he said quickly. “And I know it took me long enough but I just couldn’t… I thought it was gonna be about you and that fucking guy but it wasn’t and… Goldie, I need to know if it was about us.” 

Your fingers dug into your arms as you tightened your grip on yourself, your stomach churning. 

“What does it matter if it was?” You asked. “I didn’t need to ask your permission to write about my own life, that’s not how that works and…” 

“No, Jesus,” he cut you off. “I… I don’t care, you can write about whatever you want with me but Goldie, is this how you felt? Back then, when we were kids, was this -” he held up the book “-how you felt?” 

You frowned and looked at the book. It was signed, your signature broad and looping on the dust jacket. 

“Where did you get that?” You asked. “I never signed a copy for you…” 

He lowered the book, looking at the cover for a moment before looking back at you.

“I bought it online,” he said. “Some charity auction thing, years ago. I… I wanted a copy that felt more like it came from you. Stop changing the subject, please, and just… we have to actually fucking talk about this, baby, we can’t keep avoiding it forever because it hurts. Please. It’ll wreck us both.” 

“Yes, OK?” You said, louder and more forcefully than you’d really meant to and you had to take a breath to calm down, closing your eyes because you weren’t sure you could look at him and admit this. “Yes, that… that’s how I felt.” 

“Goldie…” 

“Please don’t make this a thing, Joel,” you said, looking toward your windows because anywhere was better than looking at him. “Please don’t.” 

But he didn’t let you turn away from him. Instead, he closed the small gap between you and took your face firmly in his large hand, his grip on you tight. 

“Goldie,” he said softly. “Look at me.” 

You steeled yourself and obeyed, tears already starting to build and you tried to hold them back as best you could. 

“Do you still feel that way?” He asked quietly. 

“Don’t do this to me, Joel,” you whispered. “Please.” 

“Don’t do what?” He asked, his eyes tracing your face again and again. 

“Don’t ask me to…” you took a deep, shaky breath. “Don’t ask me to be the one to ruin everything. I can’t…” 

“I love you,” he cut you off. “There, now it ain’t you, it’s me.” 

“Joel…” 

“I love you,” he said it again. “I’ll keep saying it, I don’t care. I love you. I loved you then, too, and…” 

You pulled yourself away from him, shaking your head, desperate for some distance. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense. 

“Don’t do that, don’t lie to me because you feel guilty or whatever,” you said, tears falling now. “I know how you felt, Joel, I heard you. If… if things changed, then… then maybe we can… I don’t know, but don’t lie and tell me that I was anything to you back then, alright? I know it was forever ago now, I know we were kids, but it still hurts, OK? It hurts, it hurts every fucking time I look at you but I just keep living with it because you’re worth it to me and-”

He grabbed you and kissed you then, harsh and rough and forceful and your body bowed to his instinctively, curving and arching into his touch, kissing him back desperately before you remembered what you were doing here and pulled back from him. Your eyes were wide, lips swollen, cheeks wet and Joel was panting for breath, watching you. 

“Don’t do that!” You shook his hands from you and wiped your mouth with the back of your wrist. “Stop trying to distract me, stop treating me like I’m just some girl you fuck, just stop!” 

“That’s not what I’m doin’, baby,” he said. His voice was calm, sure. “Swear I’m not.” 

“Then what were you doing in your kitchen?” You demanded, trying to make yourself calm down and failing. “After Sarah’s party, what were you doing then?” 

Joel looked like he was trying not to smile. 

“What!” You demanded. 

“You love me, too,” he said. 

“Joel.” 

“S’why you’re all worked up,” he said. “I love you and you love me, too. I’ll feel better when you actually say it, but…” 

You shook your head, your heart beating a frantic rhythm against your ribs. 

“You’re being mean,” you said. 

“I’m not trying to be,” he said. “I love you.” 

“Stop saying that.” 

“No,” he said. “I love you.” 

“Then why would you do that?” You cried. “Why did you treat me like I was just… just…” 

“Just what, baby.” 

“Just a warm body!” You said. 

“Baby…” 

“That’s what it felt like!” You kept going, on a tear now. “That’s what it felt like back then when you avoided me and you told your friend how it would have been better if you’d fucked anyone besides me, that’s what it felt like every time you avoided me because you caved to whatever baser instinct you had and touched me a few months ago, that’s what it felt like when you practically fucked me in your kitchen and made it sound like all we were to each other was some way to get off and that might be true for you, Joel, but it was never that way for me! 

“And it’s pathetic! Because when we were kids, I felt so bad for all the girls you’d fuck and leave. I pitied them! I thought they were so desperate and sad and then I turned into one of them! And I… I just…” 

“Just what,” Joel said softly. 

“I just…” your voice broke and your eyes met his. “I can’t be nothing to you, Joel. I can’t.” 

“Oh baby,” he said, so gently. He delicately took your face in his hands and dried your tears, thumbs curving over the arch of your cheekbones. “You’re everything.” 

You rolled your eyes and looked away, scoffing.

“Joel…” 

“You gonna let me talk for a minute?” He asked, brows raised, his hands moving to your shoulders. “Because I think we need to.” 

You sniffed and gritted your teeth for a moment but you nodded, anyway. 

“Well, you’re a lot smarter than me but you’re wrong about a lot,” he said. You opened your mouth to protest but he gave you a look and you closed it again and he smiled a little. “Thank you. Promise I’ll let you yell at me once this is all out, alright?” 

You just sniffled and nodded again. 

“I have loved you since that day on the football field almost 20 goddamn years ago,” he said. Your heart beat faster. “Pretty sure the first time I saw you holdin’ that damn gold notebook of yours I was a goner. I was just… I was young and dumb - still pretty dumb to be honest…” 

“Shut up,” you shoved him lightly. “You’re not dumb.” 

“No, I am,” he said. “Because I let my fear and my insecurity keep me from telling you all of this years ago. You were so smart and talented and driven and even then, I knew you were going to be something. Figured there wasn’t a chance in hell that you’d want someone like me so why would I try. All I’d do was fuck up what we had. But then prom happened and I panicked.” 

“You said anyone would have been better than me,” you said softly, searching his face for some sign that he was sugar coating this in some way. “I heard you…” 

“I know,” he said. “I didn’t know you’d heard me then but I know what I said. Took me a while to remember it after you told me but I did and… Look, I know… I know you think I was sleeping with those girls back in high school but… I wasn’t.” 

You frowned. 

“What?” 

“Prom night…” he sighed, wincing a little as he did. “That… that was my first time, too.” 

You looked at him like you were waiting for a punch line but none came. 

“But…” you shook your head. “You… You dated all those girls then and…” 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Yeah, I was tryin’ to get my best friend out of my system. Didn’t work so well for me in the end and then all I really had going for me was that you thought I was cool and when you assumed I was sleeping with those girls I just… didn’t tell you you were wrong.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” You were so close to him you were sure he could hear your heart racing. 

“Well, that meant that I didn’t know anything about sex besides porn and the bullshit they taught us in school,” he said. “So I went to talk to Ricky because I thought he’d actually know how to handle that shit and tell me how to handle it and… I was afraid, baby. I was afraid I got you pregnant, that I ruined your life and that’s why I said it. I didn’t want to fuck things up for you, I didn’t want to trap you with me when you deserved so much better than that. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you and it wasn’t because I didn’t love you. It’s because I loved you so goddamn much that I freaked out at just the thought of fucking your life up.” 

“Joel,” you whispered, your heart racing. 

“I never thought you’d just leave like that,” he said. “I thought… I thought I’d be able to talk to you, once I had a plan, once I knew I could make it all OK, once I stopped freaking the fuck out, I thought we could talk and figure it out.”

You just stared at him, open mouthed, for a moment. 

“I…” you managed eventually. “I didn’t…” 

“I know,” he said softly, gently. 

“I thought you didn’t care about me,” you said, almost choking on the knot in your throat. “I… I thought you saw me as some stupid, geeky girl who you just… I don’t know, got stuck with one day and I couldn’t… I couldn’t face that so I left, I went to school early and…” 

“I know,” he said again before he laughed once, darkly. “I know. I… I went to find you.” 

“What?” You asked. 

“Back then,” he said. “Eventually wore Anna down, she told me where you went and… well… I went to find you. Talk to you. Didn’t think you’d just pick up if I called your new number, figured you couldn’t ignore me if I showed up.” 

“But,” you frowned. “I’d remember you coming to Brown…” 

“I’m sure you would,” he nodded. “But you never saw me. I saw you, though. You were with him. I couldn’t take that, either, so I left.” 

“Oh my God,” you whispered, your eyes searching his, so open and honest. “You loved me.” 

He smiled a little, one of his crooked smiles, just enough to make his cheek dimple. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I loved you with your weirdly good breakfast sandwiches and too much cream in your coffee and your smart-ass movie commentary and your obsession with dippin’ French fries in Blizzards - which is still an abomination, by the way.” 

You laughed wetly. 

“Joel,” your hands found his waist, fingers tightening in his shirt. 

“Never stopped loving you, baby,” he said, taking your face gently in his hand. “Not since the day I met you, not for one second. Figured I was kind of a lost cause in that department, after a while. Thought I’d have to settle for whatever little piece of you you’d give me but now… well, now I’m hopin’ that book means you feel the same way.” 

You couldn’t seem to find your voice so you just nodded, fast and sure and he laughed, sounding almost giddy, before he smiled, big and broad and all encompassing, like you’d just given him the world. 

“Think I can try somethin’ I’ve been wanting to do for about 20 damn years?” He asked. You just nodded, still speechless, and Joel stepped closer to you, closing what little gap there was between your bodies. The hand not against your cheek went to the small of your back and he cradled you to him, his eyes searching yours, his nose brushing your own. You could feel every line of his body against your own and your breath hitched, his gaze locked on yours until the last second, your eyes closing just as your lips met. 

You’d kissed Joel plenty before, more times than you could possibly count, but it had never been like this. Every other time your lips had touched his, it had been with some pretense attached - because he was rescuing you from your shitty husband or to make you feel better about being alone on New Year’s or as the build up toward some physical release. You’d never gotten to kiss him because you loved him, you’d never gotten to kiss him because he loved you. 

It was slow, gentle, patient, like you had all the time in the world instead carrying the undertones of something illicit. He was soft and warm, his hands against you like you were a delicate, precious thing. Your lips moved with his, your mouth opening along with his, just enough that you could taste him, breathe him, feel some part of him settle inside of you with a grounding certainty. He loved you. Joel loved you. 

Your arms looped around behind him, holding him close but not too tight - you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, not this time - and you kissed him the way you always wanted to kiss the love of your life. 

Eventually, breathlessly, you pulled away from each other, just enough to look into each other’s eyes again before you both laughed a little, bodies still pressed close. 

“That’s been a long time comin’ baby,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “It really has.” 

“Think I can take you to bed?” He asked. “Think we have some lost time to make up for.” 

You just smiled and laced your fingers with his before leading your best friend to your room. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I sincerely hope the end of this chapter wasn't a let down! I'd originally intended for them to sleep together in the same chapter as the confession but SO MUCH got laid on the table here it felt like adding their first time having honest, loving sex would be too much all at once, you know? But that is coming up next, I promise.

Special shout out to @dancingtotuyo, @dundienominee and @mysticnightmarewrites for helping me figure out how to close this chapter.

Hopefully, this conversation was at least somewhat worth the wait! Thank you for still being here, a small eternity after I started writing this story. I really do love you all so much!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

[aninipanin1]

I am currently listening to classical music, and it reminded me of Your Lie In April, and I suddenly had a thought, so please bear with me:(

Violinist!Reader and Ex!Pianist!Sae who met you in the old music building he used to practice in when he was younger.

For some odd reason, he felt compelled to listen to your spry version of Beethoven's Spring Sonata. It was full of energy and passion, its colour reminiscent of a bright sunny day running through a field of flowers, with nothing but naive thoughts running through the persona's mind.

Personally, he is more of a classical player. Playing pieces from Mozart, Haydn, or even doing some early works of composers like Beethoven or Schubert. It fits his elegant and smart playing more than the passionate and dramatic Romantic era of music.

However, something about the way you translated the usual sonata was different. It felt like you were speaking to him with words, words filled with enthusiasm, joy and weirdly, peace.

It was like a person with a youthful personality, yet a soul and wisdom of an old lady. And simply, because the look in your eyes reminded him of his young self. His young self before he went to Spain to learn more about music and himself, but instead he lost himself, nowhere to be found anymore.

However, that all changed when you stopped playing, and you both started talking for a while. You were annoying, absolutely so. You were helpless, stubborn, and so irrevocably and disgustingly...sweet.

He doesn't like how every time you try to involve him in conversations, never forgetting that he was even there beside you (he had tons of friends do that before) or even making sure to listen to his one liners his heart would start to flutter uncontrollably.

It wasn't a surprise to him to find out you join a few local competitions. You were not bad at your craft and so you deserve to be on that stage of course. However, you do need an accompanist. So you asked him.

At first, he vehemently told you no. Like a huge, capitalized, and bold NO.

He VOWED to never touch that cursed instrument ever again. He had some things to focus on now, such as football. He won't let anything get in the way of that.

However, through a miracle (and a little stubborness from you and a lil alliance between you and Rin) he managed to say yes and went to the event to accompany you.

You were a lil diva with it too, choosing to pick a Mozart piece, knowing full well it was a part of his identity when he gained his fame as a child. Mozart E Minor Sonata No. 21. How long has it been since he even touched any music sheets or read a music note? Years.

He did have like three sessions with you to train the whole piece, but any professional know that that was not enough, especially to win a goddamn recital.

But you insisted, and the performance was a mess. His once calculative, elegant, and perfect playstyle was not even there. Instead it felt like a shrill cry from an infant, preventing everyone to even hear or find your part listenable because the accompaniment was so loud.

But, you did not waver. No, instead, you just smiled before playing even harder and better. Sae was internally panicking though, he has never gone to a recital without atleast practicing a piece a hundred times! What was he doing ruining his already shattered career in music?!

But for a while, at least, he let himself fall deep into the embrace of music once again. And this time, you also awaited him with open arms.

The moment the music ended, the people were still shocked at what they had just witnessed. It felt like a fight. But it wasn't the dog fight kind of sound, but more of a fencing fight between two pros with nothing but respect and admiration for the other.

Itoshi Sae sweated. He felt like he became a little more human in that performance. Like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon.

Has playing ever felt this liberating before?

Then he turned to you, who immediately hugged him in the back stage, thanking him for doing his best even if he was in a stump.

He was supposed to be in a stump. He couldn't write anything anymore, he couldn't even get himself to play atleast one note and whenever Rin would press atleast one note from the grand piano in their house, Sae would look at him with a glare, like a cat feeling threatened as it straighten its tail.

But now... maybe, just maybe. This stump, his period of passionless, dry, and fatal search for his talent and dreams in the wide dessert of life. He found an oasis, one that could bring him vitality and, hopefully, even a direction in life's dessert.

That was all he was thinking about as he kept his eyes on you, bowing and chatting amicably with the staff as the next performance happened.

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[dianawinchester03]

Season 3, Episode 9 - Malleus Maleficarum

Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: Hi beauties!!! Okay beware, this is gonna be a long note that is just about me. You don’t need to read, this is just my way of connecting with you my besties❤️

So, random life updates. I’ve started going to the gym and this new diet. Now, at the back of my mind, I can hear Dean’s disappointment. “Damn princess, didn’t think you’d pull a Sammy on me with this rabbit food diet” IM SORRY BABE IM TRYNA LOSE WEIGHT CUZ IM A HEAVY FUCK😭😭😭not to mention, my scoliosis was killing me so the workouts have been helping.

Things haven’t been the best at home with my mom, mind you I’m a 21 year old grown ass woman and I still struggle with parental issues. How? IDFK💀😭 (sorry I always find humor in the weirdest fucking situations— that’s my Dean side showing lol) I still see myself as a kid and then I remember “HO, you is an ADULT” so I try to work around it.

My schedule was totally fucked, my sleep schedule was totally fucked and I wasn’t taking care of myself the way I should’ve been which is why I decided to put myself first for the first time in my life. I’ve been getting guilted for it but FUCK THAT😂😂😂

All in all, since then, my mental health has been getting better slowly but surely. Everything hurts physically, don’t get me wrong. I feel like I’ve been thrown into the air and tossed around like a goddamn rag doll BUT ya girl is turning into an almond mom and thriving XD (jkjk, god I miss cheeseburgers and cookies. And roti ugggghhh💔)

Besides the point, hope you guys like this one!!❤️

Warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation (f&m) mentions of cunnlingus, mentions of sex, dirty talk, over stimulation.

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Somewhere in the US

•Sometime in January 2008

The quartet was now back to a trio once more since Jo parted ways with them again to go off on her own hunt with her mother. This time, Y/N loaned Jo her bike so she was riding along with the Winchesters. Shocker, huh? Y/N fuckin’ L/N, lending someone her pride and joy???

Anyway, the three took on a hunt of their own, now in the middle of the living room to a house belonging to a recent victim who died very….strangely. Long story short, Janet Dutton’s (the victim) teeth fell out suddenly, one by one. Resulting in her untimely death. The death was not only strange but sudden.

Now, Dean was questioning Paul Dutton about his wife’s death while Sam and Y/N searched the bathroom for clues as to what happened. “She was so scared. I couldn't help, I couldn't do anything to stop it….” A grieving Paul explained to Dean as he took a deep breath. Glancing up toward the elder Winchester, who was taking notes on his little pad.

“And I've talked to the police, and I've talked to the medical examiner and no one can explain it.” Dean nodded as Paul spoke, “Well, that's why they put the call in to us Mr. Dutton.” Dean assured him as Y/N closed the door across from them, locking it so she and Sam could fully search it. “But the CDC, that's disease control, right? What do you think, it's some kind of virus?” Paul asked nervously.

“We're not ruling out anything yet. Mr. Dutton, did Janet have any enemies?” Dean asked Y/N gently rummaged through drawers and Sam searched the shelves. “I'm sorry?” Paul scoffed. “Anyone that might have a reason to hurt her?” Dean asked again, while in the bathroom, Y/N glanced over to Sam, shaking her head, indicating there was nothing there. “Wait, wh— what are you saying? That somebody poisoned her?” Paul got up from his position on the couch, his eyes filled with surprise. Dean shrugged in return.

In the bathroom, Sam sighed before his eyes landed on the sink. He placed his finger up before shuffling over to it. He crouched down to check it out, his jaw dropping when he noticed a hex bag stuffed between two pipes.

“I'm just saying we have to cover every base here.” Dean nodded, trying to hold up the stern and serious agent facade. “Well, I mean, what kind of poison? You think a person could have done this?” Paul asked bewildered.

Sam’s eyes quickly traveled back to the bag as Y/N appeared by his side, “What did you find?” She whispered, her voice soft. “Hex bag” Sam whispered back, reaching in to try to take it out from between the crease. He struggled to retrieve it, due to the small space. Y/N watched with an amused smile and tilted head and Sam fought to get the bag out.

Y/N snickered, cupping her palm over her mouth. “You okay there, little Winchester?” She teased, bending down to his level. Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Stop being a smartass and get it, dude” She snorted again, kneeling down and pushing Sam aside to get the hex bag out. “Ta-da” She mused, dangling it in his face. Sam shot her his classic bitchface, but there was no heat behind it before snatching it out of her hand.

The two got up and exited the bathroom as Dean asked Paul, “Would anyone want to?” But the man shook his head, “What?! No, no, there's just no one that could've—“ He exclaimed before trailing off, almost as if he was lost in thought. Dean raised a quizzical brow at Mr. Dutton, “Mr. Dutton?” He inquired, his notebook out and ready to jot something down. Paul snapped out of his daze, looking back at Dean.

“Uh, everyone loved Janet.” He assured him but even Paul didn’t seem so sure. Dean furrowed his brows before glancing over to his brother and girlfriend. The younger hunter and psychic nodded, indicating that they were done with their investigation. Dean looked back to Paul before nodding, “Okay. Thank you very much, I think we've got everything we need. We'll get out of your way now.”

-

The rain drizzled above them as they walked down the porch to the Dutton residence toward the Impala, “That dude seem a little evasive to you?” Dean asked them, pointing to the house behind them with his thumb. Sam and Y/N shrugged, “I don't know I was under a sink, pulling this out.” Sam answered as he took the hex bag out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. Y/N put up a finger, “Correction, I got it out. You were struggling like a dog with a cone on its head” She taunted.

This resulted in another eye roll from Sam and a chuckle from Dean, “Bite me,” Sam shot back, “No thanks,” Y/N winked back as Dean stopped in front on the Impala to open it up, “It’s a hexbag” Y/N told him as he gagged when looking at the contents, “Awww gross.” He groaned, covering his nose. “Yeah, there are bird bones, rabbit's teeth. This cloth is probably cut from something Janet Dutton owned.” Sam explained as he pointed to it.

“So we're thinking witch?” Dean suggested as he stuffed the hexbag into Y/N’s hands. “Uh, yeah, and not some new age wicked water douser either.” She nodded, wrapping the bag back up as she and Sam followed behind Dean. “This is Old World black magic, charming. I mean, warts and all.” She grimaced, shaking her head as they approached the Impala. Dean mimicked her expression, opening the back door for her, allowing her to climb in while Sam claimed shotgun.

Dean shut her door before peeling open the drivers side, plopping in next to his brother, “I fuckin’ hate witches” He pointed out with a look of disgust, Y/N’s brows furrowed when he said this while Sam chuckled awkwardly, glancing back over at his surrogate sister as Dean rambled on. “They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere.” He ranted, “Pretty much” Sam muttered, frowning slightly. “It's fuckin’ creepy, you know, it's down right unsanitary.” Dean grumbled, started the ignition.

“You do know that witches are related to psychics, right?” Y/N piped up, slightly glaring at her boyfriend. Her voice was soft but still stern, her displeasure with the comments obvious. Dean’s face turned pale at her words, “What?” Sam’s lips tucked into his mouth when he saw Dean’s face fall as though he had seen a ghost, trying to stop himself from laughing.

“They’re like our older jealous black sheep cousin. Our powers come from nature, meaning they’re natural. We can still practice witchcraft but that doesn’t classify us as witches since we don’t dabble in dark arts.” She explained as she peeled off her black blazer. Dean’s face morphed into a look of guilt while Sam’s face remained in ‘don’t laugh’ mode. “Yeah Dean,” The younger Winchester said, his eyes flickering between Y/N’s and Dean’s faces.

“She’s right.” Sam confirmed and Dean exhaled deeply, “I….I didn’t mean to insult you, sweetheart. I just don’t like witches.” Dean said sincerely. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Me neither, they’re nasty bitches. They give us a bad rep too,” She agreed, stretching out her limb. “They do give you a bad rep,” Dean muttered, “No one is scared of psychics. Everyone’s scared of witches.” He pointed out and Y/N nodded.

“I don’t understand it. I mean, we’re pretty much the same.” She shrugged, “We both hear and see a bunch of things you normal folks don’t, we’re both hunted….we both have powers” Dean raised a brow at her, “You normal folks?” He smirked. Y/N rolled her eyes, “You know what I mean smartass.” She muttered, a smile tugging at her lips as she reached over and swatted his arm before leaning back against the window.

“Either way, someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton and it’s most likely a witch” Sam chimed in, Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag.” Dean sighed, “So what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy Blair bitch in the woods.” He asked as he turned on the heat in Baby, gathering up some heat between his hands from the vents.

“No it could be anyone. Neighbor, coworker, man, woman, that's the problem, Dean, they're human, they're like everyone else.” Y/N explained. “Great. How do we find 'em?” Dean grumbled, “This wasn't random, someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly axe to grind. We find the motive—” Sam began, “—We find the murderer.” Dean finished his sentence in, causing Y/N to flinch.

“I swear, the way y’all talk at the same time and finish each other sentences, it’s fuckin’ creepier than witches, man” She muttered. “Shut up” Sam and Dean said in unison as Y/N gagged. The two brothers eyed each other and she shook her head in disbelief. “You just did it again you morons,” Y/N groaned and Sam snickered while Dean flashed her a wink before peeling out of the Dutton’s driveway.

-

Later that night, they decided to stake out and follow Paul Dutton after agreeing with Dean that he was a bit evasive. They ended up following him to a diner and into an empty dead street. Paul parked his car at the head of the street so they kept it safe and parked a few cars down. Dean and Y/N were growing bored, now playing rock, paper, scissors while Sam lounged in the backseat.

“I want to stab myself” Dean groaned when he lost again. Y/N chuckled in victory as Sam let out a breathy laugh, “Oh poor baby,” Y/N teased, as she pinched her boyfriend’s cheek, making Dean roll his eyes. “This is the worst stakeout ever, absolutely boring. He’s literally just sitting there.” Dean complained.

“Hey, you said somethin’ was up with the dude.” Y/N pointed out, as she took out her pack of cigarettes and lighter from her jacket, offering Dean one. “Don’t remind me” Dean grumbled as he pulled out a cigarette from the pack and Y/N flicked her lighter, directing the naked flame to the end of the stick. “And he’s been there for hours,” He complained as the steam rolled out between his lips.

Y/N cupped her hand over the flame to light her own cigarette. “Maybe he’s just waiting for someone?” Y/N suggested, taking a huff from her cigarette and letting the smoke trail from her parted lips before turning her body so she can lean her head backwards onto his chest. He inhaled from the cigarette, resting his chin on the top of her head before shrugging his shoulders,

“Maybe, but it’s still weird. Who just sits in an empty parking lot on a Thursday night?” Dean questioned, his hand now stroking her hair. “Serial killers.” Sam piped up from the back, his hand resting over his face as he layed across the backseat. One of his knees propped up, Y/N snorted in amusement as Dean chuckled. “You two and you’re goddamn serial killer obsession, I swear” Dean muttered.

“He’s not wrong” Y/N agreed, taking the cigarette out her mouth and holding it in between her fingers, “There’s probably a dozen dead bodies in the trunk as we speak” She teased and Dean rolled his eyes, “Can you two shut your pieholes, and enjoy the silence without speculating?” Dean scolded, his hand swatting at her boob lightly before tucking it into the top of her shirt for comfort, wiggling his fingers between the creases of her bra.

“Jesus Christ, Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, smacking his hand away as he grinned, “What? I’m just trying to stay warm” He shot back, tucking his hand into her boob again. Thankfully, Sam didn’t see since he was texting Jo because he probably would’ve berated them for being ‘indecent in his presence’.

Y/N let out a breathy scoff, “If you want to stay warm than turn on the heat” She protested, her cheeks tinged slightly pink as he smirked. “Why would I waste Baby’s precious heat when I can just stick my hands up your shirt?” He asked with a cheeky tone and Y/N rolled her eyes, taking another huff of her cigarette before flicking the end out the window. “What a caveman” She grumbled.

Sam paused in his text, grimacing in disgust before rolling his eyes to type, ‘Angel, I love you but can you please hurry your fine ass up and get here before Dean and Y/N lick each other’ to his girlfriend.

“You know you like it” Dean teased and Y/N scoffed, “Yeah, your sweaty hands are so comfy, I love it” She mocked in a deadpan tone and Dean stuck out his bottom lip in a little pout.

Sam’s phone buzzed in his hands, ‘I doubt they’re that bad’ Jo responded, he scoffed typing away once more.

‘Oh God, don’t get me started. I’m literally three minutes away from having to gouge my eyes out and plug my ears with cotton’ He complained.

Meanwhile, Dean chuckled, burying his nose into her hair to inhale that intoxicating coconut shampoo of hers, the tobacco added to it gave him a sense of relief. Eventually, she complied and the two made conversation while Sam complained to Jo in the back.

Suddenly, Y/N noticed Paul Dutton’s car began jerking forward. Almost as if he was struggling. “Dean!” She quickly slapped Dean out of her hair, his head snapping in the direction of Paul's car. Sam rose from his seat in a whip as Dean and Y/N tossed their cigarettes out of the window and Dean started Baby’s ignition. Paul tossed himself out of his car and onto the pavement as Dean hit the gas and drove over towards him.

The brothers and Y/N quickly exited the Impala and jogged over towards Paul, who was hunched over choking on the ground. “Check the car!” Dean urgently instructed Sam, who did so immediately while he and Y/N knelt beside Paul.

His face grew red as he choked on the maggots, “Sammy!!” Y/N shouted as she frantically pounded Paul’s back. “Got it!” Sam yelled back, pulling the hex bag out of the steering column. Dean and Y/N hauled Paul to his feet, leaning him against the car as Sam lit the hex bag aflame, glowing green and blue before tossing it on the ground away from them.

Paul’s eyes widened as his throat opened back up, greedily gasping and inhaling the oxygen into his lungs. His chest heaved as he spat out the maggots from his mouth. Y/N grimaced, averting her gaze and instead watching Paul with a concerned expression. She didn’t like maggots, never has and never will. “You okay?” Dean asked, holding the man up while he panted for air.

“What the hell is happening to me?!” Paul panicked, “Someone murdered your wife and now they're trying to kill you, that's what's happening to you.” Y/N stated, matter of factly. “That's impossible! There's no way—” Paul denied as she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Dean was quick to cut him off, “Well, if we hadn't have been following you, you'd be a doornail right now. Now who wants you dead?” He demanded.

“I-uh…” Paul stuttered, “C’mon, think!” Y/N urged him, “There's a woman—uh—” Paul tried to think, “Okay, a woman? Okay.” Dean also urged him to continue as Paul’s face flushed with embarrassment. “An affair—a mistake, she was un-balanced, she was blackmailing me and I put an end to it a week ago.” He admitted. Y/N blinked rapidly, her eyes going from Paul to Dean as he described his infidelity.

“What’s her name?” Sam asked pressingly, “Wha–What could she have to do with—?” Paul stammered again and Y/N was growing tired. “Enough!” Y/N snapped, holding her hand up in a stop signal and Paul snapped his mouth shut, “Look, Jude Law. We don’t give a shit if you’re screwing the nanny. What we need to do is stop a goddamn witch. Now give us your girlfriend’s name or so god help me—“

“Fine, fine...uh–” Paul quickly relented, “Her name is Amanda Burns” With a huff, Y/N nodded, “Thank you.” He nodded in response before pulling out a pen and paper from his pocket to write down Amanda’s address. They then guided him back over to his car. “You gonna be alright?” Y/N questioned as he leaned against the door.

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Thank you” He assured her, Dean patted his back in farewell and they returned to Baby to head to Amanda’s home.

-

Not too long after, Y/N was on her knees picking the lock to Amanda’s house while Sam and Dean stood guard behind her. With a slight click, the tumblers of the lock finally gave away and she smirked in satisfaction. She pushed the door open and the three snuck inside slowly, making sure to keep their guns drawn in front of them.

Sam closed the door behind him as Dean and Y/N walked forward towards the living room. They entered the room, only to find Amanda lifeless on a glass coffee table covered in blood which was still pouring out of her wrists. Dean flicked the light on as the flames burnt in her candles, so it seemed as though she just died. “That's a curveball.” Dean commented as Sam and Y/N nodded their heads with furrowed brows.

“Yeah.” Sam muttered with a slight frown as Y/N muttered, “You’re telling me, man” They all slowly approached Amanda’s corpse as Dean gently used the barrel of his gun to lift her right arm before doing the same to her other arm. “Three per wrist, vertical. She wasn’t foolin' around.” Dean pointed out as Y/N’s eyes landed on the rotting rotisserie chicken on the floor, maggots coating its carcass.

“Yeah, looks like she was working some heavyweight evil here.” Sam confirmed as he put his gun in the back of his jeans and bent down to look at the scattered remnant of what seemed like an altar holding his nose to the smell of the burnt rotten food. “No shit, Sherlock” Y/N huffed, doing the same. Sam shot his sister his classic bitchface as a shiver ran down her spine as a fly buzz echoed in her ear, the sound reverberating in her ears.

“God, I hate those things.” She huffed, swatting it away from her face before standing back up. Dean nodded in agreement as well, “The smell isn’t much better up here.” He mumbled as the smell of decaying hit his nostrils. Y/N glanced around the room, noticing some odd items that weren’t quite right. Dean spun around, then jumped back, startled since he nearly walked into a rabbit, hanging from the ceiling, dead. “Oh god!”

Y/N cupped a hand over her mouth, her eyes darting over to Sam. The duo shared an amused gaze, Sam pushing himself to his feet as Dean ran a hand over his face to mask his fear. “Fuckin’ witches! Seriously man, come on!” He exclaimed, turning back to the duo. Their faces quickly dropped, trying to mask their amusement. “Guess we know where she got the rabbit's teeth from.” Sam reverted back to the subject in hand.

“Well, Paul sure knows how to pick 'em huh? It's like Fatal Attraction all over again.” Y/N scoffed, shifting her weight onto her other foot as she shoved both her hands in her back pockets. “Yeah.” Sam sighed, “And why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal?!” Dean grumbled, turning back to the rabbit. He frowned, glancing down at the bowl of its blood, which was leaking from its mouth. “Poor little guy”

“You know what I don't get, guys? If she was so bent on revenge, why do this?” Sam pointed out, “Well, she got Janet Dutton, thought she finished off Paul, decided to cap herself and make it a spurned lover's hat-trick.” Dean suggested with a shrug. Sam and Y/N didn’t look too convinced however, “Maybe” Sam sighed as Y/N crouched back down, shielding her nose to get a better look at the occult pages on the floor beneath the table Amanda’s corpse laid.

“I mean, this doesn't exactly look like the TV room of a bright and stable person, you know?” Dean commented as he pocketed his gun into his inner jacket, “No, but then…” Y/N began as she reached around and pulled out another hex bag that was tucked under the table in a crease. “There’s this,” She stated as she stood up, handing it to Sam. He looked stunned before he tossed it to Dean, who caught it with ease.

“Another hexbag? Come on” Dean grumbled in distaste as he untied it and peeled it open to find similar contents of the bag they found in Janet’s bathroom. He grimaced in disgust before pelting it on the table. “Looks like we got a hit, huh? A little witch-on-witch violence?” He said as he reached for his phone in his pocket, flipping it open. “I guess.” Sam and Y/N sighed in unison while Dean dialed 9-1-1 and held his phone to his ear.

“I'd like to report a dead body, 309 Mayfair Circle.” He told the operator, pacing over to his girlfriend, “My name? Yeah, sure my name is—” He snapped his phone shut comedically with a bored expression as Y/N snickered slightly in amusement before reverting back to a serious expression. “Why are witches ganking each other?” She muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don't know, but I think maybe we got a coven on our hands.” Sam responded, “Well that’s just great ain’t it” Dean muttered sarcastically as he and Y/N ran their hands over their faces in frustration.

____________________________________________

Dean laid back against the headrest behind him tiredly as he sipped a glass of whiskey, glancing over at his girlfriend who sat at the small table with his laptop in front of her. “Sweetheart, we already got the names of Amanda’s friends. We’ll check ‘em out in the morning.” Dean’s voice snapped her out of her deep train of thought. “Come to bed” He urged her, patting the empty space on the bed beside them.

Y/N looked over at him for a moment before sighing and shutting the laptop. She got up from the chair with her laptop in hand and placed it on the nightstand before getting off the chair. She crawled over the bed, snuggling closer into his warm shirtless body. “Maybe I’m paranoid” She mumbled, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

Dean’s glass paused halfway to his mouth, “You’re always paranoid,” He commented with a snort, downing the rest of the brown liquid before stretching to place the empty glass next to her laptop on the nightstand. She rolled her eyes, smacking his arm playfully while he chuckled. “Shut up” She grumbled before placing her chin on his chest to peer up at him.

“I just got a bad feeling, that’s all” She sighed as her fingers trailed along the little pudge on Dean’s stomach. “If you say I ‘always get feelings’ so god help me, I’m making you sleep on the ground” She threatened with narrowed eyes but they held no heat behind them. He laughed softly, his fingers trailing through her damp hair, “No you won’t, cause you’ll miss this” He teased, giving her a cheeky grin.

His hand trailed down her body, which held his flannel over it. “Or this” He added, giving her a squeeze ass, erupting a small squeal from her lips. “Or this” He concluded, planting a kiss on her forehead. She fought the growing smirk on her face, “Yeah yeah, I’d never survive without you” She teased before playfully shoving at his chest.

He gasped dramatically, “Hey, I’m being sweet right now” He muttered, squeezing her frame in his arms. She snickered softly, “Oh, so that squeeze to my ass was you being sweet hm?” She inquired with a raised brow. He shrugged, “It was a gesture of courtesy” He responded simply.

“Such a gentleman” She mumbled sarcastically, shifting her head back down onto his chest. He let out a satisfied sigh, “Damn straight” He proclaimed proudly before placing another kiss on top of her head.

“Don’t ever let that ego get too big, Winchester”

“Too late, L/N”

“You’re ridiculous,” She scoffed, lifting her head, “But you love me.” Dean replied as a matter of factly and Y/N nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, I do.” She responded with another scoff and he laughed once more, “Oh shut up, you know you’d be lost without me.”

Y/N’s face fell, her heart thundered in her chest when she was unconsciously reminded of his deal. “Yeah…yeah I would be” She admitted, her tone a bit croaky, her big (e/c) eyes now filled with sorrow. A sad feeling bubbled up in his chest as he saw her eyes go sad, his hand trailing up and down her back in a soothing manner. “Hey, hey...” Dean cooed gently.

“Baby I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that” He apologized, now realizing why she got all glum. She shook her head, “No, no it’s okay” She reassured him, trying to mask her feelings, not wanting him to feel guilty. She placed a kiss on the bare patch of skin on his chest.

Y/N trailed her lips up and chest slowly, peppering kisses from the base of his anti possession sigil tattoo. All the way to that sweet spot behind his ear, in an aid to diffuse and turn the situation. She refused to give up hope, no matter how hopeless it may be. She wasn’t gonna give up on her man just like that, not ever.

He tilted his head to the side, allowing her more access to his neck as he hummed in appreciation. The feeling of her lips on his skin was like heaven, a sweet drug that he craved endlessly. It was the only true heaven he knew and probably the only one he will ever know.

-

Author’s Note: HI so remember those warnings? Yeah they weren’t for Dean and Y/N💀 sooooo ENJOY! If you don’t wanna read the Sam x Jo smut, you could always skip it🫶

-

Meanwhile, in Sam’s motel room. “Yeah, we’re thinkin’ it's a coven. Gonna check out the dead witch’s friends in the morning” He said to Jo into his phone, leaning back on the wooden bed frame. One arm lazily resided as the back of his head, propping it up while the other held the phone against his ear.

“A witch coven, huh? Well that’s not good” Jo’s voice echoed into the phone, sounding rather concerned. He sighed before rubbing his free hand over his face. “Yeah, it’s a blast” Sam joked, running a hand over his light stubble. “Just be careful, okay?” She warned him, her voice suddenly going soft.

He scoffed playfully, “Angel, I can look after myself” He reassured her, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He could hear her scoff on the other line, “Yeah, I know. I’m just worried is all,” She confessed with a sigh. A sympathetic frowned formed on his face, her worrying for him always made his heart twist. “Hey, I’ll be fine” He promised her softly, “I’m with Dean and Y/N, I can’t possibly get hurt.”

Sam’s reassurance didn’t ease her nerves entirely, but she still smiled faintly. The thought of him being hurt still lingered in the back of her mind as an annoying itch. “Don't pull your puppy dog eyes on me, Winchester. I can just picture it right now” She muttered into the phone and Sam chuckled, his nose crinkling at her words.

“Oh, is that a threat?” He asked with a smirk, shifting his position on the bed. “Maybe it is” Jo shot back before a playful smile took hold of her lips. “Yeah? What are you gonna do to me, Ms. Harvelle?” He questioned slyly, pulling himself down onto the bed to lean back against his pillows. Jo’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin at the sound of his flirtation, her free hand playing with the hem of her shirt.

“You wanna know the answer to that, Mr. Winchester?” She inquired, her tone becoming more sultry. His breath got caught in his throat, his body growing hot as he felt his cock shift in his pants. “Yeah, I’d love to know” He responded, his voice low and raspy.

Jo’s breath quickened, her eyes closing for a moment as she imagined what he looked at currently. He was probably sprawled out on his back, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of skin and his hand shoved into his jeans. “First, I’d run my hands through your hair…” She began breathlessly, biting her lip, her thighs clenching together.

“Yeah?” He inquired, his brain now filling with dirty visions that involved her and him. “Then what?” He prompted curiously, his hand now placed on his stomach, itching to move it lower. “I’d kiss you slowly, starting with your neck” She replied huskily, “and trace my way up to your lips.” Her fingers began playing with one of the buttons of her shirt mindlessly as she spoke.

Sam let out a quiet groan as his eyes fluttered closed, imagining those sweet lips of hers on him. “I like the sound of that” He murmured, his fingers now tracing slow circles on his hip bones. “I know you do” She responded cockily, licking her lips as she toyed with the buttons of the flannel she stole from him. “And then what?” He inquired once again.

”Then I’d unbutton your shirt, one by one” Sam’s hand drifted lower, now toying with the button on his jeans. “And start trailing kisses down your chest” Finally, Sam freed himself. His cock springing free from the confides of his jeans and boxers. He was quick to wrap a firm hand around his cock. “Shit” He whimpered through gritted teeth, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“What’s the matter, you getting all hot and bothered, Sammy?” Jo giggled as she stuffed her hand up her shirt, toying and tweaking with a perky nipple of her. “Yeah, I am. Can you fuckin’ blame me?” Sam responded in a slightly whiny tone. The sound of Sam’s whines made her let out an unintentional moan. She brought her hand to her mouth to stifle it, not wanting him to know she was touching herself.

The small sound didn't go unnoticed, leaving Sam's eyes going wide. “Did you just...moan?” He inquired curiously, his voice filled with disbelief. A smirk found its way on his lips as he realized she was doing exactly what he was. “I— wha—” Jo stammered.

“What’s the matter, you getting all hot and bothered, angel?” He cut her off, his voice deep and gravelly while he thrusted into his hand, throwing her words back into her face. “S-shut up, Winchester” She protested, her cheeks tinged red in embarrassment, “I’m not, I’m—” He cuts her off once more, his hand quickening its pace.

“Yeah you are.” He grunted, “I swear to god I can hear it from here.” He teased, his hand moving slower as he chuckled breathlessly. “C’mon, it’s nothin’ to be ashamed of. It’s just me and you here..” He urged her, biting his lower lip. Jo didn’t need to be told twice. In a flash, her jeans were off and the tips of her fingers were coated with her very own slick as she rubbed furiously at her clit to the sounds of Sam’s desperate whimpers and dirty words.

“I swear” He groaned, his breaths becoming ragged as he quickened the pace of his hand. “I can hear how wet you are right now….” He whispered, his voice strained from the immense need for release. “S-Sam. Please…” Jo pleaded, her eyes screwed shut, her hair sprawled out across her pillow as her lips formed an “O” shape. Trying to hold back her impending orgasm, only willing to allow herself to cum at his command.

“Oh, listen to you...” He breathed, “such a desperate little thing.” He teased, his hand matching her pace, “bet you wished you were stuffed with this big fat—” he paused, his brain clouding for a second as he let out an involuntary moan as his hand sped up “—cock”

Sam’s words instantly made Jo’s walls clench around her own fingers. “Oh god, Sam” She whimpered, “I do...I do...” She confessed desperately, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, almost like it was going to burst. “Please, god, I need you.” She pleaded, her own words coming out breathy and desperate. “I bet you wish I was there, right? Wish I was pounding into that pretty little pussy”

Sam’s thumb swiped across the tip of his cock, collecting the precum leaking down to add to the extra stimulation. He brought his hand up to his mouth to collect a glob of spit before bringing it down back to his rosy tip. He groaned at the feeling, stroking his dick up and down at a quick pace and imagining it was her hand instead.

“God, I wish I was there too. I’d shove those pretty little thighs of yours open wide and lick you up, nice and slow” He let out another, “Just the way you like it.” He said huskily, letting his tongue glide across his lower lip. “Fuuuuuck” The words made Jo’s head swim, her teeth gritting in response. There was something about dirty talk that she loved so much. It made her squirm and shiver in the most pleasant ways possible.

Her imagination went wild with the thought of him on top of her, his head in between her thighs, his long tongue running over her folds. “I’m close, I’m close” She warned him, feeling fluids fully soak her fingers. Her grip on her phone tightening near her ear. “Hold off.” He growled into the phone, his voice leaving no room for questions.

“You can’t cum til I say so.” His tone was firm, leaving her whimpering at the sound of it alone. “Yes, sir” She gasped out, knowing better than to argue, especially when she was at his mercy. His grip on the base of his cock tightened as her desperate words echoed through his ears, his own climax quickly approaching, unable to hold back any longer.

“That's my good girl" he cooed, feeling his release nearing. "Now tell me what you’re doing” He ordered. “I’m lying down on my bed, my legs are spread wide open.” She replied, her breath coming out in pants. “I’m on my back.” He groaned into the receiver, the mental image of her on her back making his cock twitch. “Yeah? You all spread out for me?”

“Mhm” She nodded frantically, “I’m so soaked for you, wishing it was you playing with me instead” she whined. “Me too baby, you have no idea how much I wish I could be there with you.” He panted, his hand moving at a steady rhythm. “Keep going.” He instructed with a hint of firmness.

“I feel so empty without you in me. I wish you were here, god you would be so deep inside of me right now. I’m t-trying so hard to hold back.” She whimpered out, her head thrown back “Please, please let me cum” Jo pleaded, the desperation clear. “You know the rules. You’re not gonna cum til I say so.” He growled out, a smirk forming on his lips when she whined out in frustration. “Who’s gonna make you cum?”

“You, only you” She gasped out, her body squirming in need. Sam chuckled deeply, a cocky smile on his face. "That’s it, there it is…." Then, he felt that familiar tightness in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck, Jo!” His pace quickened, pumping at his cock furiously, chasing his own release.

She could hear his heavy panting and the sound of skin slapping skin on the other end, making her whimper even more. “I need you, Sam…please” She pleaded, the need for release almost overwhelming her. “Cum.” That singular word from Sam made Jo snap, the dam bursting in an instant as her pussy clenched around nothing.

She mewled and screamed his name relentlessly, damn near soaking her sheets with how worked up he had her. The sound of her release made Sam follow suit, his climax hitting him like a tidal wave as she continued to plead for him. Jets of his release practically spit out of his tip and dripped onto his hand and shirt as his hand slowed, trying to prolong the sensation as best he could.

The beads of his semen leaking down. "Damnit..." he cursed, his breaths ragged from the intensity of his orgasm. “God…I swear, you’ve got too much power” Jo muttered over the phone to him, her breaths shaky as she tried to regain normal respiration. Sam chuckled weakly in response, patting around his bed for the towel he had discarded from his shower earlier.

Once he found it, he picked it up then slowly sat up in his bed, his shirt clinging to his glistening chest. “Yeah, you love it though.” He teased, starting to wipe himself clean. “Are you okay, angel? I wasn’t too mean, was I?” He asked sincerely, a stark contrast to how he was just a minute ago.

“Oh hush, you know I like it when you’re rough and commanding” She reassured him, sitting up and taking one of her pillows and hugging it to her chest. He hummed in response, tossing the towel on the nightstand before laying back down on his pillows. “Don’t I know it”

____________________________________________

The next morning, Elizabeth, one of Amanda’s friends, was turning the soil of her front garden with a small trowel. Sam, Dean and Y/N walk up her driveway to question her, all decked out in their FBI suits. “You must have a green thumb.” Sam commented. Elizabeth’s head snapped up towards them from her spot where she stooped, “Excuse me?”

“Getting these herbs to grow out of season like this, quite impressive.” Y/N added as she pointed to the familiar herbs she worked with when it came to concocting her healing balms and other ‘psychic’ treatments. Usually she worked with them dried and grounded but they were easy to recognize in their natural form. Elizabeth looked at her stunned, her eyes glancing back down to her garden.

“I'm sorry, I have introduced myself first.” The psychic apologized before reaching into her jacket simultaneously with the boys to retrieve their badges, “I'm uh, Detective Bachman, this is Detective Turner and Thornton” Sam introduced himself, then Dean and Y/N, offering the alarmed brunette woman a kind smile as she pushed herself up from the ground. Dusting off her gardening gloves.

“Hi-ya” Dean greeted with a sweet smile as he and Y/N stuffed their badges back into their inner jacket pockets. “We're following up on Amanda Burns' death, going around the neighborhood and talking to neighbors and stuff like that.” Y/N explained, “But didn't she— I mean she killed herself right?” Elizabeth stammered with panicked filled eyes. “Maybe, maybe.” Sam nodded.

“We heard you were friends with the deceased, is that right?” Dean asked professionally, “Yeah, I guess so.” Elizabeth breathed out, nodding shakily. “Did you have any idea about her practices?” Y/N asked with a raised brow as she stuffed her hands into her dress pants pockets. “I'm sorry, what kind of practices?” Elizabeth blinked rapidly, “Well see, her house was littered with Satanic paraphernalia.” Sam informed her, taking note of her shaky behavior.

“A regular Black Sabbath.” Dean commented but Elizabeth shook her head, “No, the— but she was an Episcopalian.” She stammered again, “Well, then we're pretty sure she was using the wrong Bible.” Dean snorted, earning side eyes from Sam and Y/N, along with a smack to the arm by his girlfriend. Dean clutched his arm and gritted his teeth at her, grumbling under his breath while two women approached them.

“Elizabeth, you all right?” Renee, a blonde woman with mid-back length hair and bangs called out to her friend with a brown skinned woman next to her, rocking a Bob and bangs. The second Y/N laid eyes on her, she got that familiar feeling in the back of her neck. The burning rose rapidly as the two women approached them. That could’ve only meant one thing. Demon.

She hissed lightly as she cupped the back of her neck, earning a concerned look from her boyfriend. She nodded lightly, indicating she was fine. Dean's narrow eyes flickered from her and back to the women as Elizabeth responded with, “I'm fine uh Renee, these are detectives. They say Amanda was— she was practicing—” She didn’t get to finish since Renee cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder as she and her other friend, Tammi, stood beside her.

“I'm sorry detectives; you can tell that Elizabeth is a little bit upset.” Renee interrupted in a snooty tone. “Of course, Miss ... ?” Dean said, “Missus. Renee. Van Allen.” The snooty blonde woman said slowly and emphatically, like it's significant and she's important. “Would you like me to spell it for you?” She sassed. Dean chuckled dryly, glancing over to Y/N, who already had her eyes narrowed at the woman, “No, I'll get by, thanks.” Y/N replied in an equally sassy tone.

While Sam and Dean held a smirk to themselves to hide their amusement. Renee scowled at her before returning to a faux remorseful gaze, “This Amanda business has been hard for Liz. For all of us.” She sighed, “Yeah. I mean, you think you know a person.” Tammi sighed. Y/N’s eyes snapped over to her, squinting lightly in suspicion. “Well, I guess we all have secrets don't we?” Dean replied with an equally suspicious gaze.

The women nodded with smirks, minus Elizabeth, who looked shaken. “Well, thanks, um, we'll be in touch.” Sam greeted politely as they began walking away, “Have a nice day.” Dean waved, guiding Y/N away by gripping her wrist. “Bye” Tammi said eerily, the psychic glancing over her shoulder at her. “Missus. Renee. Van. Allen” Y/N mocked the woman’s tone once they were out of earshot.

“I swear to god those chicks are like some ‘Real Housewives’ rejects, dude.” Dean complained as the three got back into the Impala. “They were pretty bitchy, that's for sure.” Y/N agreed, buckling her seatbelt while Sam looked at them with amusement, stretching his arms back out.

-

Later that night, Dean was driving down a country road through fog while Sam sat in the passenger's seat looking over the friend group’s recent activities and Y/N lounged in the back smoking a cigarette, all discussing the case. “Well, I'm already sold on that Elizabeth chick. Did you see that victory garden of hers? Belladonna, wolfsbane, mandrake, not to mention that little flinch she threw when we mentioned the occult.” Dean scoffed.

“Hey, you work with those herbs, right?” He asked Y/N, looking over his shoulder. Y/N nodded as she exhaled a drag of her cigarette. “Yep, not in the way she does though. I use them in my balms, ointments, tonics and all that good stuff.” She responded, taking another puff from her cigarette. Dean nodded “And those herbs she had aren't exactly the friendly sort, are they?” He inquired with a quirked brow.

“Not at all” She shook her head in confirmation with a little snort. “Well, she's definitely had a good run lately, gone up a few tax brackets, won almost too many raffles. Kinda thing a little black magic always helps with.” Sam piped up from the passenger seat, scrolling through a news article in his lap, shining a flashlight over it. “Yeah.” Dean muttered with a nod.

“I don't think she's alone either. Looks like 'MRS. Renee Van Allen' has won almost every craft contest she has entered in the past three months.” Sam added, also mocking the blonde’s snooty words as he explained, “Yeah, a regular Martha Stewart, huh? Except for the devil worship, I'm thinking that was the coven we met back there, minus one member.” Dean agreed.

“Amanda was clearly going off the reservation. What do you think, they killed her to keep up appearances?” Sam asked, “Seems like an appearance kind of crowd, don't you think?” Y/N commented with a roll of her eyes as she flicked her cigarette out the window. “Yeah.” Sam agreed with a sign, “If they killed the nut-job, should we uh, thank them or what?” Dean asked as he tilted his head, “They're working black magic too, Dean. They need to be stopped.” Sam said firmly as Y/N nodded in agreement.

Dean blinked at them surprised, “Not to mention, one of ‘em is a demon. I sensed the bitch the second she appeared, didn’t even bother to conceal herself” Y/N pointed out. Sam and Dean both turned around to look at her curiously. “When were you gonna say something?” Dean inquired, looking slightly offended.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, “Slipped my mind.” She responded, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. Dean rolled his eyes before looking back at the road, “Whatever. When you say ‘stopped', you mean like stopped?” He asked them wearily, his eyes flickering over to them for a split second, only to see them giving him looks in Winchesterian that said, ‘Duh Becky’

Dean was a tad bit surprised at their brutality, “They’re human, guys” He defended, “They’re murderers” Sam and Y/N shot back in unison with deadpan looks. Dean blinked but agreed nonetheless as he shrugged, “Burn, witch, burn” as he continued to drive. “So, about that demon. You think they’re getting their power from them?” Dean asked but Y/N didn’t get to respond.

The Impala suddenly started to stutter and choke up, the engine rattling, “What the fuck—” Dean muttered in shock, looking around frantically as Sam and Y/N’s brows furrowed. Baby’s headlights flicker on and then back on again on the outside as she slowly came to a stop in front of a familiar figure standing in the middle of the road with her arms crossed.

Sam and Y/N recognized the woman to be Ruby, sharing a panicked look. The two immediately hopped out of the car first with Dean following to suit, “Ruby.” Sam gasped, “Demon bitch” Y/N gritted her teeth at her as Dean narrowed his gaze at the blonde, instinctively shielding Y/N with his left arm. Ruby didn’t bother to quip back at Y/N, looking more panicked than anything else. “Sam, listen to me, there’s no time—”

“For what, what're you talking about?” Sam asked concerned, “You have to get out of town” Ruby stated urgently. “Hiya, Ruby.” Dean glared at her before fishing the Colt out from his pocket and aiming it at her, “Long time no see,” He growled, cocking the gun, “Dean!” Sam chastised him, but Dean ignored him, “I was hoping you’d show up again”

Ruby however, seemed unphased. “Point that thing somewhere else” She warned, “Hahahaha! Right.” Y/N laughed sarcastically as stood beside her man. Ruby rolled her eyes before turning to Sam, “Sam, please. Go. Get in the car and don't look back.” She pleaded warningly. “Hey blondie, we can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks.” Dean scoffed cockily.

“I'm not talking about witches, you jackass. Witches are whores. I'm talking about who they serve.” Ruby snapped at him, “Yeah, demons. They’re getting their power from demons. We’re up to date, thanks” Y/N shot back sassily, placing her hands on her hips. “Yeah. And there's one here, now.” Ruby glared at her. “Oh, what, you mean besides you?” Dean smirked as Sam looked nervous

Ruby didn’t bother to respond, “Sam, it knows you're in town and it's gonna come after you and it's way more than you can handle.” She warned him, Y/N’s face dropped at this. “Oh come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this shit!” Dean groaned. “Put a leash on your boyfriend, Y/N, if you wanna keep him.” Ruby snapped at the psychic, making her eyebrows touch the sky as Sam gulped.

“You’re not gonna do shit, bitch!” Y/N warned, her nostrils flaring as her anger got the best of her. “Dean, look, just chill out.” Sam pleaded, “No! No! She's messing with your head, God knows why, that's who they are!” Dean exclaimed, the Colt still aimed at Ruby. “Sweetie, seriously, relax” Y/N chimed in, placing her arm on her boyfriend’s bicep.

Dean quickly snapped around to her with a shocked expression, “You’re seriously siding with her on this?” He inquired, almost offended. “No, asshat, I’m just not stupid. She’s a fuckin’ demon that can kill us with a snap of her fingers. I’m not taking that chance!” Y/N retorted, narrowing her eyes at him as Sam sighed.

“I’m telling the truth!” Ruby insisted. “And I'm telling you to shut up, bitch!” Dean quipped back harshly, whipping his head back around to Ruby. “I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!” Ruby huffed sarcastically, stepping forward, her arms crossed over her chest, “Oh, I don't know, maybe because he's my brother and she’s my girl, you black-eyed skank!” Dean retorted, standing his ground.

“Oh, right, right! You care about them so much. That's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving ‘em all alone?” That struck a nerve in Dean, his grip tightening on the Colt as Sam and Y/N gulped simultaneously. Their hearts thumping out of their chests. “Shut up…” Dean growled, shaking his head. “At least let me try and save them, since you won't be here to do it any more.”

That was it right there, “I said SHUT UP!” He fired a shot, only for Sam to push his hand upwards and away from Ruby screaming, “Dean, NO!” The brothers landed on the ground in front of Y/N’s feet, wrestling for the gun. “Knock it off! Both of you! Now damn it!” Y/N hollered as she crouched to rip them off of each other.

They both ignored her, however, too busy tussling to even heed her warning until she grew frustrated, using her power to forcefully rip Dean off of Sam. “I said, ENOUGH!!” She bellowed. Her body trembled as she pushed Dean back and Sam scuffled to his feet, letting out deep breaths to calm herself down.

Sam’s eyes darted behind her to see Ruby now gone from where she was standing, a solemn look on his face as Dean scoffed, looking at his little brother with disappointment. It was until their eyes focused on Y/N, both widening when they saw her nose beginning to bleed, her face scrunched in anger.

“Baby, you’re…” Dean trailed off as he took a small step forward, his eyes fixed on her face that was now stained with thick blood. “I’m what? Huh?” Y/N spat out, her face softening as soon as she realized what was wrong after tasting the warm metallic liquid that was dripping into her mouth from her top lip, now coating her teeth.

“Oh…” she mumbled, wiping some of the blood from her nose before it could get on her grey shirt. Sam and Dean both looked at each alarmed, watching in pure alarm as she wiped away the blood. She felt weak, her head began to throb from the sudden surge of power she had used to forcefully yank Dean off of Sam.

“C’mon, let’s get you bac—” Dean instructed immediately, approaching her with wide eyes to guide her back to the car before she could even let out a complaint. She protested anyway, “I’m fine, I swear—” She was cut off by Dean, who ignored her pleas and gently grabbed her shoulders, his grip a little too strong.

“No, you’re not. Shut up, let’s go.” He said firmly as he pulled her to their car, leaving Sam to stare around for Ruby in vain.

-

The trio walked into their shared motel room, Dean’s arm hooked around Y/N’s shoulder as he guided her in and switched on the light. She had old diner napkins stuffed up her nose from Dean’s glove compartment as a makeshift bandage. She still felt weak, gaining her strength back slowly but surely, “What the fuck were you thinking?” Dean chastised his little brother as he walked Y/N over to a bed.

He pushed her into the bed while Sam closed the door. “What?! What the hell was I thinking?” He exclaimed, offended, his voice going up an octave. “She's a demon, Sam. Period. All right? They want us dead, we want them dead.” Dean yelled as he turned to check the mini ice box they had stolen earlier, grabbing out a few ice cubes and placing them into a towel from his duffle.

“Oh, that's funny, I remember that demon chick in Ohio, Casey? You didn't want her dead.” Sam retorted, his concerned eyes flickering over to Y/N and back to Dean. “That was different! She wasn't stringing me along like a fish on a hook” Dean protested, walking back over to the bed where Y/N sat perched on the edge.

He knelt down in front of her, placing the towel of ice on the bridge of her nose as she sighed softly at the feeling. “Seriously, charming. I’m fi-“ Y/N tried to assure him once more but he cut her off. “Would you shut up? You’re not fine.” He chided, ignoring her eye roll as he focused on the task at hand. “No one's stringing me along!” Sam defended as Dean looked at him as though he was an idiot.

“Oh for Christ’s sake—“ Y/N groaned, handing Dean the towel with ice before standing up in front of him. “Look, I know it's dangerous, that she is dangerous. I don’t trust the bitch one second, but like it or not, she's useful.” Y/N backed Sam up, “You’re fuckin’ crazy!” Dean exclaimed in disbelief, his voice going up an octave as he looked at Y/N like she had lost her mind.

“No! We kill her before she kills us.” He snapped, his jaw clenching in frustration at the thought of even listening to Ruby as he pointed towards the door and then towards himself. “Kill her with what? The gun she fixed for us?” Sam mocked, narrowing his defiant eyes at his brother. “Whatever works.” Dean shot back with a shrug. Sam and Y/N sighed.

“Dean, if she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives.” Sam explained as though it was obvious. Dean rolled his eyes, turning away from them, going over to the sink and turning on the water. “Look, we have to start looking at the big picture Dean, start thinking in strategies and — and moves ahead.” Sam tried to reason with his brother as he cupped his hand to collect some water, splashing it on his face.

Dean blinked rapidly as he groaned lightly, a pain striking in his stomach as he got a bit light headed. “It's not so simple, we're not – we're not just hunting anymore. We're at fuckin’ war.” Y/N added as Dean turned off the water and looked at them in the mirror above the sink, grabbing a towel to dry off his face and turned back around to them. “Are you two feeling okay?”

The duo simultaneously side-eyed him, “Why are you always asking us that?” Sam groaned as he sat on the edge of his bed. Y/N stood a few feet away from him, her hands perched on her hips. “Because you're taking advice from a demon, for starters.” He pointed to Sam. “And by the way, you seem less and less worried about offing people.” He pointed between them two. “You know, it used to eat you up inside.”

“Yeah, and what has that gotten us?” Y/N shot back, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. “Nothing, but it's just what you're supposed to do, okay?” Dean retorted, “We're supposed to drive in the fuckin’ car and fuckin’ argue about this stuff. You know, you go on about the sanctity of life and all that shit.” He pointed to Sam while rubbing his stomach uncomfortably.

“And then you get all soft and try to play peacemaker, you yell at us for being knuckleheads, call us morons and then we figure it out cuz you’re right all the fuckin’ time” He groaned as he pointed to Y/N, still rubbing his stomach from the sticking pain. Sam couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at this, “Wait, so – so you're mad because I'm starting to agree with you?” Sam chuckled.

Dean looked between his brother and girlfriend before exhaling, “No, I'm not mad, I'm— I'm— I'm worried, Sam—“ He stammered before moving over to the bed and settling on the edge. Y/N followed to suit, noticing he seemed to be in a bit of unexplained pain. “I'm worried because you guys are not acting like yourselves” He huffed as Y/N gently rubbed his back.

“Yeah, you're right, we’re not. We don't have a choice.” Y/N said gently as Sam nodded in agreement, “What is that supposed to mean?” Dean grunted, glancing over at her as he clutched his stomach. She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat as Sam looked down at his hands to stop tears from brimming in his eyes, unable to speak.

Y/N signed heavily before beginning, “Look, charming, you're leaving— right? And we gotta stay here in this shithole of a world. Alone. By ourselves. How the fuck are we gonna do that?” She shook her head, her voice small as she spoke. Dean felt an override of guilt rise in his chest, “The way I see it, if we’re gonna make it, if we’re gonna fight this war after you're gone, then I gotta change.” Sam added, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Into what?” Dean asked, his brows furrowing. “Into you. I gotta be more like you.” Sam stated firmly. Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he blinked rapidly as he tried to focus on what Sam was getting at but the pain in his stomach just worsened. His face tightened as he winced, hunching forward.

Y/N took notice of his mannerisms quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder again, “Are you all right?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowing, “I-I’m fine” He huffed out, not wanting to seem weak in front of his brother. “You don’t look fine,” Sam pointed out, his voice laced with concern.

Y/N placed her hand on his forehead, “You’re sweating up a storm,” She mumbled. “I’m telling you, I’m fine.” Dean grunted, swatting her hand away from his forehead with an annoyed expression. “What’s going on with you???” Sam’s worry skyrocketed as Dean rocked back and forth, “I don’t know” Dean admitted with a wince. He gasped, hunching forward again sharply.

“Oh— guys something's wrong— bunch of knives inside of me—“ He grunted, gritting his teeth. “Dean?” Sam muttered, rushing over to kneel in front of his brother as Y/N tried to stop him from falling off the bed by his side, “Son of a bitch!” He groaned, shaking ferociously. “Babe, hey.” Y/N cooed lightly as placed her hands at the sides of his jaw and he looked around rapidly.

Dean just shook his head in response, unable to find his words as the pain kept surging at different places in his abdomen. “The coven man, it's gotta be the coven.” Dean groaned out, realization dawned on him. Sam and Y/N shared a panicked look as he darted up from his spot in front of Dean and Y/N stayed with him, the hunter writhing in pain.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry. Stay with him” Sam assured him, instructing Y/N firmly as he frantically started to search the room for a hex bag. She nodded kept a firm grip on him, letting him lean his head on her shoulder while she rubbed his back comfortingly. He grunted again as the pain worsened, “What the hell are you doing?” He grunted.

Sam pulled out a drawer and dumped out its contents, quickly throwing them to the side, “Uh, checking for hex bags” He spoke quickly, rifling through the motel desk drawers hurriedly. He began opening the cupboards below the sink looking for the hex bag as Dean yelled in pain, laying back back on the bed, his face still twisted in pain.

“Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, feeling helpless as she lunged forward to help him back up. “Sammy, hurry the FUCK UP!!” Y/N shouted over her shoulder, “I’m FUCKIN’ TRYING!” Sam yelled back as he pulled things out of the cupboard, throwing them aside. Dean leant forward again falling to his knees in front of the foot of the bed, spitting out blood, choking and sputtering.

“NO!!” Y/N grabbed him, now cradling him on the floor, the hunter spewing blood all over her top in a fetal position. Sam was still looking for the hex bag, in another cupboard pulling out pillows only to find nothing, he moved to the bed while Dean was still choking on blood and spitting it out of his mouth and onto a frantic Y/N.

Sam pulled off the covers to the bed, tearing back the sheets and sliced the mattress open with his knife and still couldn’t find the hex bag. “Guys, I can’t find it!” Sam panicked, his eyes landing on his brother growing weaker and weaker in Y/N’s arms. Their eyes connected, the psychic was close to breaking down as she cradled her love, shaking her head at Sam. “I don’t know what to do..” She cried.

“No.” Sam’s gaze hardened, marching over to his bag and rummaging through it. He retrieved the Colt and opened it to make sure there were bullets in it. “Sam, what are you doing?” Dean grunted out but Sam didn’t answer, his face filled with determination as he pushed himself to the door. “Sam?!” Y/N called out to him, “Stay here!!” He shouted back firmly before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

"Son of a--!" Dean groaned, pushing himself off of Y/N's lap, using the foot of the bed to steady himself, as he stumbled into a standing position, "We've gotta go after him—" Only to fall flat on his ass again and into Y/N’s lap once more. “Stay down, you idiot!” She chided, her hands firmly on his shoulders, trying to hold him down as he huffed in frustration, “I’m fine!” he protested, even though he was in a lot of pain and covered in blood.

-

The Impala sped down a dark country road with Sam at the wheel, a look of determination on his face as he gripped the steering wheel in one hand and the Colt in his other.

-

Elizabeth, Renee and Tammi were around a coffee table in the Van Allen residence with the altar set up, chanting. “Kihér tolic echranmuk, madan fiéré, marc oh don duer kianave—” They were interrupted when Sam kicked in the door, the wood from the frame scattering around the entrance as the women scream out of fear getting up from the altar raising their hands in surrender.

A pissed off Sam Winchester entered the room with the Colt drawn at the women, “Oh my God!” Renee squealed, “Let him go.” Sam demanded gruffly. “Let who go? What are you doing? You're insane, get out!” Renee screamed confused as they all panicked. Sam was beyond pissed and fed up at this point, “Look, if you know about me, then you know about this gun.” He waved the Colt between them.

“You're killing my brother. Now let him go. Get away from the altar.” He instructed. “What?” Renee scoffed, “NOW!!” He bellowed, “Okay…okay...” They all moved away from the altar with their hands still up as Sam kept the Colt trained on them.

-

Back in their motel room, Y/N was still cradling a Dean in her arms, tears streaming down her face, watching helplessly as her love coughed and sputtered blood all over her. She couldn’t give a rat's ass about her shirt at this point. All of her focus was on him, and the fact that there was nothing she could do to help him. No matter how badly she wanted to heal him, she couldn't, she was completely and utterly useless to him and the realization made her feel even worse.

"It’s okay, baby," she whispered softly, her lower lip trembling as she gently pushed his sweaty hair back from his face. “You’re gonna be okay…you’re gonna be okay…” She whispered more for herself than for him, rocking him back and forth as she gently patted his back.

He groaned softly, his breaths uneven as he lifted a shaky hand bloody to cradle her cheek. His tear filled eyes pierced hers, a pained but still comforting smile gracing his face. "I'm okay, princess... I'm okay." He reassured her weakly. But they both knew he was lying, it only made her cry harder.

She cradled his head to her chest, her grip on him tightening as she closed her eyes tight, trying to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks which were now smeared with his blood. "You have to be okay, okay?" She whispered to him, a desperate tone in her voice as she continued to rock him gently. "I've got you…I’ve got you..." She comforted, gently running her fingers through his hair, her voice shaky as she kissed the top of his head lovingly.

His breathing started to slow, making her believe he was doing better. “There he is, there’s my guy..” Her words died in her throat when she saw his eyes flutter shut. “DEAN!” She cried out, her heart shattering in her chest. Her grief was cut short when she heard footsteps approaching the door, only for it to be kicked in harshly. The culprit was revealed to be Ruby. Dean’s eyes shot open as the sound of Y/N shouting his name and the door being kicked in.

“You wanna kill me? Get in line bitch.” He spat at Ruby. Ruby rolled her eyes and marched over to Dean. She pulled him up by the collar, tossing him on the bed. “What the fuck, you bitch?!” Y/N bellowed, pushing herself up to attack the demon. Only to be kicked hard in the stomach by Ruby, landing on the floor with a heavy grunt. She then leaned over Dean and forced his mouth open with her left hand.

Dean tried to push her away as she sprayed a dark brown liquid into his mouth from a bag at her side with her right hand while Dean still struggled under her hold. Ruby stood up as Dean chokes on the liquid and spits some back out. “Stop…calling me…bitch…” She breathed heavily as Y/N groaned, winching and clutching her stomach. She was sure she had broken a rib or two.

-

Back in the Van Allen residence, Sam was still aiming the gun at Elizabeth, Renee and Tammi. “Go.” He demanded gruffly, pointing to the fireplace. Elizabeth, Renee and Tammi move over in front of the fireplace with their hands still up in the air. “What— we— we weren't hurting anyone.” Elizabeth pleaded, “Please, we don't even know your brother.” Renee insisted.

“Stop the spell, or die. Five seconds.” Sam narrowed his dark eyes at them, his finger hovering over the trigger. “What?!” Renee squealed as the three women shook, staring down the barrel of the gun. Sam was deadly serious, cocking the gun and pointing it back at them. “Four.”

“No, please, please don't kill us!” Renee cried, “We were just getting Renee a lower mortgage rate!” Elizabeth chimed in, looking over to her friend to back her up. Renee nodded frantically as Sam’s face twisted with confusion because the women seemed sincere but still held the gun ready.

-

Back in the motel room, Ruby stood in front of the couple. Y/N was helping Dean wipe his mouth with a towel, he was still clutching his stomach but he stopped coughing up the blood. The pain gone physically but mentally, Dean could still feel the knives poking at him. “Next time you point that gun at me, I'm not gonna just disappear, understand?” Ruby warned Dean before tossing the gun at Y/N.

Y/N’s eyes flickered up to her, catching the gun in one hand while eyeing the demon. “You…saved my life..” Dean said surprised, Y/N mimicking his shocked expression as she finished up wiping his mouth. “Don’t mention it.” Ruby smirked, “What was that stuff?” Y/N asked, pointing to the bag. “God it was ass.” Dean muttered with a grimace, “It tasted like ass.”

“It's called witchcraft, kitten.” With that, Ruby turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Dean and Y/N on the bed, the psychic grimacing in disgust at the nickname the demon seemed to like calling her.

"Witchcraft, my ass." Dean protested with a scoff, gently rubbing his stomach."Seriously that was the nastiest crap I’ve ever tasted.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the tension by using humor. Y/N however, wasn’t amused. Still gripping the side of her ribcage where the bruising had already started from Ruby’s kick, her mind still stuck on the fact that if she hadn’t stepped in, Dean would’ve been dead.

He would’ve gone to hell way before his time. Now that he was saved, she knew damn well when his true time came. She wouldn’t know how to handle it. She was already dreading it, still clinging onto the little hope of saving him but witnessing Dean’s suffocation in real time, she felt sick to her stomach imagining what could actually happen if he went. What was going to happen if those hellhounds can for him.

He noticed the way she was staring down at the worn carpet and her hand still wrapped around her injured side. His face softened, “Hey, I’m fine…” He reassured her gently, placing a hand on her knee. “Yeah…for now” She whispered as she nodded, still unable to meet his gaze, which only made him more worried.

He gently grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to look at him, “Princess, look at me.” He murmured. Her eyes finally met his ones as sadness and frustration filled her eyes. “I’m still here.” He said softly, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “And what’s gonna happen when you’re not?” She croaked, her face creasing.

He sighed softly, his eyes full of guilt, he moved his hands to hold her face. “Hey, don’t think like that.” He told her gently, “C’mon. I’m still here right now, right? You can’t keep worrying about what if’s—“

“It’s not an ‘if’ anymore, Dean.” She shot back firmly, “Maybe we can’t save you, just maybe we won’t be able to get you out of that stupid fuckin’ deal, then what’re we gonna do? Just let you rot in hell?” Her voice broke. He winced, hearing the raw pain in her voice, he gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“Don’t,” He told her firmly, “You can’t think like that. I’m not going anywhere, okay? You have to believe that.” He tried to convince her as he wiped her falling tears with his thumb. But he wasn’t convinced himself, “I dunno if I believe that anymore,” She sighed, shaking her head.

His face fell and his heart broke for her, he knew this was hard on her too. Maybe even harder on her than him. He pulled her closer, making her straddle his lap as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. He leaned up to press a kiss to her lips but she quickly pulled back, “No—“ She grimaced, “I love you, but I’m not kissing you when your mouth smells like ass” She gagged at the smell of the concoction Ruby squirted into his mouth.

He let out a strangled laugh, “Can’t argue with that” He chuckled, leaning his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as she buried her face in his neck.

-

Back in the Van Allen residence, “Okay, maybe it's not you—“ He shook slightly before turning the gun to Elizabeth. “—or you.” He points the gun at Renee this time, moving the gun again. “Maybe it's you…” He accused, pointing the gun at Tammi who sobbed, upset and scared. Sam wasn’t buying it for one second, “I don't even know what he's talking about. What a–re you even talking about?” She stammered.

“I mean, all of you, everyone in your little coven, you've all had runs of good fortune.” Sam spat with disgust, his eyes still trained on Tammi. “Newsworthy good fortune. Except for you, Tammi…” He narrowed his eyes, “Now tell me, why is that? You didn't want anything for yourself? Or is it because you're already getting what you wanted – like these women's souls.”

Renee and Elizabeth’s eyes widened with pure fear, “I can't- I-I'm not- I-I-I don't…” Tammi faux-stammered again, her act falling when Sam didn’t let up. His dark eyes unconvinced. So she sighed and put her hands down, going from looking frightened to calm. Her eyes flashed over black, revealing that she was the demon Y/N and Ruby warned him about.

“Nice dick work, Magnum.” Tammi smirked darkly. The other two women gasped audibly, looking shocked as their jaws fell. “Let. My brother. Go.” Sam commanded, gritting his teeth. “What's wrong? Couldn't find my hex bag? Sorry, sweetheart, but your brother's lungs should be on the floor by now and poor little Y/N is probably crying over his bloody corpse.” Tammi said menacingly with a nasty smile.

Sam’s eyes held pure anger, his finger finally pulling the trigger to the Colt. But the bullet didn’t hit her, since Tammi lifted her hand, slowing it. The bullet lost its momentum, stopped and fell to the floor. Elizabeth and Renee gasped again as Sam’s face fell with shock. “You're in a lot of trouble, Sam.” The demon giggled before waving her arm.

Before he knew it, Sam was propelled across the room as an invisible force smacked into him. His body was slammed roughly into the wall with a loud impact. He groaned as he slammed against it, his head bashed against it. “Tammi, what's wrong with your eyes?” Elizabeth asked cautiously, tears streaming down her face. The demon turned to her with a bored expression, her eyes now reverting back to its host’s brown color while Sam struggled against the wall.

“Tammi, what are you doing?!” Renee demanded in her snooty tone, “Renee, shut your painted hole.” Tammi snapped, making Elizabeth cup her hand over her mouth in shock and Renee began shaking with anger. Her eyes bewildered, “What? I-I will— You can't— Not in my house, Tammi Benton!” Renee stupidly stood her ground.

The demon, annoyed, rolled her eyes before waving her right hand at Renee, resulting in the blonde’s head snapping to the right so far it almost turned completely backwards, killing her instantly. Her wide dead eyes connected with Elizabeth’s, her body falling to the floor as Elizabeth shrieked in terror, still covering her mouth.

The sounds of the bones in Renee’s neck cracking made Sam flinch on the wall, feeling sick to his stomach as he watched one of the housewives meet her demise due to her egotistical nature. “Look. You got me – let the girl go.” Sam pleaded through grunts, his jaw clenching. “Wait your turn, young man.” The demon snapped at him, now turning back to Elizabeth.

She whimpered, “Oh my god..” trembling as Tammi slowly stalked towards her, “Shh, Lizzie. It’s okay” The demon cooed with a menacing look in her eyes, “You’re not Tammi..” Elizabeth whimpered again as the demon brought her hand up to play with her brown locks. “No, but I'm wearing her meat. I had to break the ice with you girls somehow.” Tammi responded softly, but her tone held no comfort.

“You killed Renee.” Elizabeth cried, “Renee, Amanda ... That's what happens to witches who get voted off the island.” The demon smirked as she moved to walk around the altar table. “Who..are you?” Elizabeth shook as she asked, resulting in the demon lightly chuckling, “Funny story, actually.” She began, playing her hands behind her back and she recollected.

“You remember all those dark demonic forces you prayed to, when you swore your servitude? Just who did you think you were praying to?” She mocked as Sam fought against her hold she had on him but it was no use, “This-this isn't – it can't b—“ Elizabeth shook her head in denial, “What did you think it was? Make-believe? Positive thinking? The Secret?” The demon continued to taunt her as she stalked toward her once more.

“No, it was me. You sold yourself to me, you pig.” She cackled as Elizabeth gasped, looking at her with horror. “All I had to do was bring one good book to Book Club, and you ladies lined up to kiss my ass.” The demon smirked, “No, no, we didn't know—“ Elizabeth cried, shaking her head. “Oh, yes you did. You knew every step of the way, and now your ever-livin' souls are mine.”

Tammi then turned back to Sam, placing a finger up. “Comments? Questions?” Sam didn’t bother to answer her as another nasty smirk plastered across her lips before she now stalked toward him. “Hmm, Sammy Winchester, wow! Right here in our little town. You know, my friends and I, we've been looking for you and your friend” Sam rolled his eyes at her, scoffing.

“Why? Oh, right, 'cause we’re supposed to lead some piss poor demon army.” He shot back with sass and a bored expression, “No, not at all. You’re not our Messiah and Y/N is not our Saviour. We don't believe in you.” The demon spat with disgust. “But, there's a new leader rising in the West – a real leader. That's the horse to bet on, Sam, the one who's gonna tear this world apart.”

Sam glared at her as he continued to struggle in the hold, “Thing is, this demon? It doesn't like you guys very much. It doesn't want the competition.” Tammi then raised her hand, Sam slid up the wall, groaning, and was suspended against it, his feet leaving the ground. Which was pretty high considering he’s a fuckin’ giraffe, “Nothing personal, it's a P.R. thing, so, buh-bye.”

Tammi kept her hand raised, and Sam began to be crushed into the wall, paint and plaster cracking as he was pushed harder into the solid barrier. Her eyes flickered over to Elizabeth, who stood there watching, frozen in fear and the front door to the house slams open. Dean and Y/N run in with their shotguns drawn, only for Tammi to turn around and wave her hand in their direction.

Easily throwing them over the sofa. The two stumbled to their feet, only to get pinned to the wall behind them, side by side. “Three for one. Lovely.” Tammi smirked, eyeing the trio. “Great fuckin’ idea, Dean. Run in, guns blazing.” Y/N spat angrily at her boyfriend as she grunted due to the force crushing her chest.

“Shut up” Dean grumbled back at her, “Oh yeah, cause sitting back and waiting would’ve clearly been much better” He responded with sarcasm, grunting when Tammi pushed him more into the wall. “Hey! Save the squabbling for couples therapy in hell” The demon snapped, her hand still raised in their direction.

“How ‘bout you go suck a fat one?” Dean retorted with sass, ignoring the pressure on his chest as he sent her a mocking smirk. Y/N was fighting a grin from forming on her face, not wanting to encourage Dean’s smart-ass behaviors but finding the fact that he’s still got it in him to be a total ass during near death situations to be adorable while Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance on his side of the wall.

Tammi raised her palm, sending the three higher up on the wall as they grunted and groaned. “Wait!” A voice said suddenly, revealing to be Ruby. The blonde demon walked into the house with her hands raised in surrender, resulting in Tammi’s head snapping towards her. Surprised filled her eyes as she allowed her hand to fall to her side, but the hunters remained plastered to the wall.

“Please. I just ... came to talk.” Ruby pleaded, putting her hands down. “You made it out of the gate. Impressive. That was a bitch of a fight, wasn't it?” Tammi scoffed, “Doors out of Hell only open for so long.” Ruby retorted dryly, “What do you want, Ruby?” Tammi snapped, “I've been lost without you….” Ruby said in a sultry tone as she advanced slowly towards Tammi.

“…take me back. That's why I led the Winchesters and L/N here.” She smirked darkly as she glanced over to them, seeing Dean and Y/N’s faces contort with anger. The couple’s gazes darted over to Sam, mouthing harsh, ‘Told you so.’ To him. The younger Winchester looked betrayed, hurt at the fact that Ruby wasn’t going to help them. While Y/N too was suffering with that pain but she masked it over with anger directed towards the treacherous demon.

“They're for you ... as a gift.” Ruby practically moaned as she spoke to Tammi. “Really?” Tammi asked with a dark smirk, “Let me serve you again. I've wanted it – I've wanted you – for so long.” Ruby confirmed in a soft breathy tone as she bit her lip, now moving forward to stand face to face with Tammi. Dean and Y/N lifted their eyebrows at the hot-demon-chick on hot-demon-chick flirtation. The psychic tilting her head as the hunter made a, ‘Goddamn’ face.

Sam, however, wanted to puke on the spot.

“You were one of my best.” Tammi sighed. Ruby smiled softly, pretending to lean forward to kiss her but instead, she whipped out her knife in an attempt to stab Tammi, only for her to catch it midair. A nasty snarl leaving her lips, “But then again, you always were a lying whore.” The knife was thrown sideways out of their hands across the wood floor when Tammi flicked their hands to the side.

The demons immediately began to brawl with Ruby kneeing Tammi a few times in her midsection. Sending a couple of right hooks across her face but Tammi recuperated almost immediately. Head butting Ruby harshly. The two grunted in pain as the three hunters, still against the wall, watching anxiously. Flicking every so often. They weren’t even sure if Ruby was on their side at this point, her acting was a bit too good.

Tammi clapped back with a few right hooks of her own, kneeing Ruby in her stomach before kicking her into her face and sending her straight into a TV on the table. Sparks erupted from the cord behind her. But she got up and kicked Tammi in her stomach, attempting to run past her, however Tammi clotheslined Ruby causing her to fall flat on her back. Tammi then pulled Ruby up by her collar and threw her into a bookcase, the demon bleeding from her nose and mouth profusely.

Tammi then got a fireplace poker from the stand on the hearth, looking at Elizabeth who was still cowering from her, before she stalked back over to Ruby with the poker in her hand. “You're really telling me you threw in your chips with Abbott, Costello and Aubert here?” Tammi mocked the panting demon as she stood above her, looking over at the three hunters with disgust.

Ruby, panting, tried to get up but Tammi hit her across the face with the fireplace poker. Elizabeth took her chance when she realized they weren’t paying attention to her anymore, ran to the altar and dumped a bunch of pins out of a bow onto the cloth with the demonic symbol on it. Elizabeth was unseen by Tammi, who was still paying attention to Ruby.

“Come on. Get up.” Tammi continued to taunt Ruby when she didn’t move, blood still running down her nose and mouth, “I said, get up!” She shouted again before tossing the poker aside with a bored expression and crouching over Ruby, grabbing her by the jacket and pulling her up. “We've been here before, haven't we?” Tammi chuckled as she glanced over to Sam. “She didn't tell you?”

Sam looked confused as Tammi turned back to Ruby, “Pretty mortifying, I guess. She was one of mine. I turned her out a long, long time ago. Ruby here was a witch. Of course, that was when you were human.” She revealed as Ruby’s head drooped, so she grasped it, reeling it back further as she winced and grumbled. Dean, Sam and Y/N all looked surprised even though they were still both pinned to their respective walls.

Tammi then threw Ruby back down onto the debris of the bookcase she crashed through roughly and stood up, “Tsk, didn’t want your friends to know that all those centuries back, you sold yourself to me? Embarrassing, I guess.” She taunted as Ruby looked up at her with utter distaste, “But don't worry love, no secrets where you're heading remember?”

Tammi began chanting and black smoke rose out of Ruby’s mouth curling and hovering inches above her mouth as she tried to fight the exorcism. “Monyé valack forsa, ulu iri regatt ruac, fieesh nieesh forthsa lé inmist infirum forthsa por un betest a té un fornalles ecclaisee—” Suddenly, she began to cough due to Elizabeth chanting under her breath at the altar in an attempt to kill the demon.

As Tammi coughed harder, her power faltering. That resulted in Dean and Y/N dropping from the wall, both falling forward. Sam also fell from the wall and dropped to the floor as Tammi brought her hand up to her mouth. She coughed up a handful of long pins into her hand, her mouth bleeding in the process. She looked at the pins confused for a second before she remembered that she allowed Elizabeth to live.

With an angry growl, she lifted her right hand and clenched it into a fist. Elizabeth’s breath catches, bones crushing loudly as her chanting stopp. Her eyes went wide as she brought her hand up to clutch her chest before her heart stopped and she fell onto the altar, dead with her eyes still open.

Y/N used the distraction to her advantage, grasping up Ruby’s discarded knife from the ground before pouncing on Tammi. She grappled her from behind, wrapping her arm around her throat before driving the knife into her back, stabbing her repeatedly as she struggled against her grip. Tammi died as well as the demon that was inside of her, her body going weak in Y/N’s hands.

She allowed the corpse to slump down, falling to the floor, the knife still in her back. Y/N breathed heavily as her eyes glanced over her shoulder to Sam and Dean, the elder Winchester helping his little brother up to his feet. The Winchesters padded over to her, moving a bit sluggish due to their shared injuries. They stopped in front of Ruby, who had pushed herself up from the ground.

“Go.” She instructed the three, slightly embarrassed as she wiped the blood away from her mouth. “I'll clean up this mess.” She assured them. The three nodded and Y/N wrapped her arms around both of the brothers shoulders, helping each other on their way out. “Wait” Dean grunted, stopping them so he could reach down and pick up their shotguns from earlier.

The trio all look back at Ruby one more time. She turned her eyes black and glared at them harshly, “Go.” She snapped in an authoritative tone. They all walk out the door as Ruby leaned over Tammi’s body, taking her knife out of her back and holding it up. The knife was covered in blood, and smoking as Ruby breathed heavily.

____________________________________________

After the events, they went back to their motel room. Dean and Y/N were getting dinner for them while Sam stayed back. He was now splashing his face with water, panting as he looked in the mirror above the sink with a worried expression etched on his face.

-

Meanwhile, outside, Dean and Y/N were walking back with their food in their hands. Suddenly, the lights outside began to flicker and the two stopped in their tracks, instinctively going for their guns with their free hands as they looked around. No one was in sight but they scanned the place once more with their eyes, landing on Ruby, who was standing there in the shadows of the hotel parking lot with her arms crossed over her.

“Not this bitch again.” Y/N muttered in annoyance to herself, putting her gun away along with Dean. “So the devil may care after all, is that what I'm supposed to believe?” Dean said to Ruby across the lot. “I don't believe in the devil.” Ruby shot back as she stepped out of the shadows, stalking toward them. They did the same, now stopping in front of her. “Wacky night.” Y/N commented.

“So let me get this straight, you were human once, you died, you went to hell, you became a…” Dean’s curious words trailed off as Y/N gulped, glancing over to her boyfriend nervously. “Yeah.” Ruby answered matter-of-factly, turning to leave. But even Y/N was curious, “How long ago?” The psychic asked, causing the demon to stop in her tracks. “Back when the plague was big.” Ruby answered, her back still to them.

“So all of 'em – every damn demon – they were all human once?” Dean asked, his brows furrowing. “Every one I've ever met.” Ruby answered as she turned to face them. “Well, they sure don't act like it.” Y/N scoffed, “Most of them have forgotten what it means…..or even that they were. That's what happens when you go to Hell, Dean. That's what Hell is – forgetting what you are.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, a lump growing as Dean rolled his eyes. “Philosophy lesson from a demon. I'll pass, thanks.” He snarked, making Y/N shake her head as she swallowed thickly. “It's not philosophy. It's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit. Agonies you can't even imagine.” Ruby assured him. Dean tried to mask his fear as Y/N’s gaze dropped to the floor, clenching her jaw harshly.

“No, I saw "Hellraiser". I get the gist.” He retorted. Ruby rolled her eyes and turned to start walking away. “Actually, they got that pretty close. Except for all the custom leather.” Dean looked thoughtful, pondering a question in his mind. The same question on Y/N’s mind, the thought eating away at them. Ruby had an inkling of what they wanted to ask so she stopped her departure, and turned back to them.

“The answer is yes, by the way.” She said, “Sorry?” Y/N asked with a raised brow, feigning confusion along with Dean. “Yes, the same thing will happen to you.” She told them. The two blinked rapidly, hating the fact that it was true. “It might take centuries…but sooner or later Hell will burn away your humanity. Every Hell-bound soul…every one…turns into something else. Turns you into us. So yeah….yeah, you can count on it.”

Dean glanced down at the floor, now realizing something. He was sure of it but he couldn’t ask it in front of Y/N, not wanting to break her heart or her spirit. So he turned to Y/N. “Sweetheart, will you take these inside?” He asked her gently, handing her the food in her free hand, her other hand holding up the drinks. Y/N’s face fell, “Wha—”

“Please?” He pleaded and gave her his best puppy dog eyes, adding that little pouty lip she always fell head over heels for, knowing it would make her not fight back. Sure, she was stubborn but she couldn’t always resist his charming side.

She let out a heavy sigh and hesitantly took the food from him. Once it was out of his hands, he nodded with a small smile. “Thanks.” Y/N nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, still looking confused before turning and walking toward the motel room door.

Dean pressed a kiss to his fingers, blowing it in her direction as she threw one last glance at the two before shoving the key from her pocket into the motel room door. Once she was inside, Dean’s face fell back to expressionless as he turned to Ruby. The demon had a knowing look on her face and let out a small smirk. “Spit it out then. I know you’ve got a question on your tongue.”

“There's no way of saving me from the Pit, is there?” He asked with a knowing look, scared to find out the answer. “No.” Ruby confirmed with her sigh. Her face remained emotionless, and his face fell as he stepped dangerously towards the demon with an angry expression. “Then why’d you tell Sam and Y/N that you could?” Ruby shrugged before saying, “So he would talk to me. You Winchesters and L/N can be pretty bigoted. I needed something to help him get past the—”

“The demon thing? It's pretty hard to get past.” Dean interrupted with a dry scoff as Ruby chuckled humorlessly, “Look at you. Tryin' to be all stoic. My god, it's heartbreaking.” She snorted as Dean rolled his eyes, “Why are you telling me all this?” He demanded, “I need you and Y/N to help me.” She answered, “Help with what?” Dean’s brows creased as he narrowed his eyes at her, “With Sam.” She stated matter-of-factly.

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “The way your girlfriend stuck that demon tonight – it was pretty tough. I know you’re like that too. Now, Sam's almost there, but not quite. You two need to help me get him ready – for life without you. To fight this war on their own.” He didn’t answer, his jaw clenching so harshly you’d swear the corners were turning white.

Ruby turned to walk away again. “Ruby!” He called out to her harshly and she paused. “Why do you want us to win?” He asked. Ruby turned back around to face him again. “Isn't it obvious? I'm not like them. I don't know why. I – I wish I was, but ... I'm not. I remember what it's like.” She stammered, as she looked down thoughtfully. “What what's like?” Dean blinked as he asked once more,

“Being human.” She answered simply as she looked back up at him. It was now Dean’s turn to look down, lost in his thoughts for a few seconds, and when he looked up Ruby had disappeared leaving Dean alone in the parking lot.

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: This was sooooo long overdue and for that I apologize but I hope everyone is doing well! Thank you for always supporting me and this weird ass book. Be sure to tell me what you loved and what you hated <3

What was your favorite scene? I’d love to hear!

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Xoxo

[mad-maximoff]

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵 1- 𝘔��𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵

Sum: Mack Flores had always found the underbelly of society comforting. Mack works in a nightclub as a bartender. She has many friends, but not as special as Star. A 57 year-old hooker, who Mack has a little crush on. Mack wants her to quit, but Star has no other choice until Mack makes the choice for them both that'll alter their lives forever.

Warnings: *Warnings will be announced for each chapter*, language, smoking

Word Count: 4,424

Wattpad link AO3

2 AM never came so quickly. Yeah, I hated cleaning up the bar but goddamn, tonight was a cluster of new 21-year-olds from hell. Was I ever that bad? Hell, I can't talk. I'm only 23 but I feel ancient next to these fresh-faced babies.

"Yo, Mack!" My boss, Trina, was a real hippie. A 62-year-old biker chick in a skirt turned the corner of the bar coming down the small flight of stairs from her office. "Yo, Trina!" I mimicked back, it always irked her. She chuckled leaning over the bar counter. "You wanna get outta here? You can leave if you want, I can finish storing the bottles away." Her question perked my head from the counter as I crouched down and wiped a mysterious sticky liquid off the cupboard. "Hell yeah!" I bolted adjusting my belt. "Now, now. Before you go and fuck off, go take the trash out. Then you can fly away." I sighed but knew I did not want to stay longer than I had to. My boots scuffed the floor as I dragged my body to the very thing I despised most. The trash. It was sticky and a mixture of every alcohol and the flies would come out of nowhere. I quickly tied it into a knot and lifted it slowly fearing the worst of the glass clinking.

Jesus what a night...

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Los Angeles. Beautiful this time of year. When I first moved to the States from Canada, I always knew when the weather changed back home. Here, I had to make heads or tales. Though, I knew it was fall. I wasn't sweating to death at 2 am, nor was I freezing to death. I was quite content walking home. The club I worked at was on the Hollywood strip. My apartment complex was a few blocks away. It was as though my apartment was in the middle of everything. Tourists, walk of fame, and Fig street. I often found I would rather walk Figueroa than be around a bunch of tourists taking pictures of gum on a star. That, and I get to see my own star walking so famously. Shining more brightly than any star in the Chinese Theatre. Star. I waited for her at the corner of Fig as I lit a cigarette. A few girls passed me, asking if I wanted company. Another asked for a light or match. I often carry a few matchbooks in my bag. A few tampons and condoms as well. I hand them out like I'm Oprah. Star taught me that. The girls appreciate it. A few knew me by name, perhaps by knowing Star or maybe I have served them once before.

"Yoo-hoo! Starry-girl!" I hollered as the prettiest blonde stepped out of a red brick building adjusting her fur cheetah print coat. Faux, of course, she would never been seen in real fur. She's a real animal activist.

"Miss Mack Flores! Now what have I told you about waiting up for me?" Star's 6-inch heels clicked along the concrete. Star held herself up proudly, her white cream-coloured purse with a gold chain bounced against her hip. "Haha, I didn't I just got here. Tri cut me early. So, I figured I'd come find you." I matched with Star's pace. Her strides were longer than mine. Not just because of the heels but also because she was 2 inches taller than me.

Every time I saw Star there was always something new I never noticed. Today, I noticed the way the muscles in her hand moved as she flinched her knuckles. Her dainty fingers looked soft, her nails were still painted in the shade of red nail polish I got her for Christmas last year. It was Nars in the shade Chinatown.

Star huffed while she held her tightly tied corset. It was a staple in her normal wardrobe. It was a dark cream colour with a thin black outline around the chest, the strings were black tied up in the back. She wore skin colour garter pantyhose with a fine lace trim around her thighs."That's Trina for you. She makes you stay late and makes you worry, then decides to cut you."

"Come on Star, she means well." I pursed my lips against the cigarette, exhaling out and flicking the ash behind us.

"Mack, you think everyone means well. I've known Trina for years, I swear that woman is Bipolar. One minute she's happy and in a joking mood, then some minor inconvenience ticks her off and everyone's a target. Fuck, am I starving." Star halted as she looked around. "You wanna go for Greg's? I want tomato soup and coffee." Star rummaged through her purse whisking out a 20. "I'll pay this round huh?"

"No. I'm paying. Keep your cash." I nudged her as we crossed the street. "Mack come off it, I get you try to act like the strong and silent masculine lesbian here but let me pay for once. I feel like you're paying me for nothing." Star's hand dipped into mine as the traffic lights allowed us to walk. At first, I thought she wanted to hold my hand until her hand touched her lips with my cigarette stolen from my hand. I overthought that through.

"Darlin', you're off the clock. You don't need to do anything for me when I offer to pay." I pulled my leather jacket away from my body to adjust the collar. "Nothing huh? Well, I can just be your best friend for the night then huh?" I reached first for the door of Greg's diner, letting Star go first. "Always Star. That's free."

I met Star when I was 18 about 5 years ago when I first moved to LA. She was 52 at the time. I met Trina before I met Star. Trina got me a job at the nightclub as a bus girl at first, I moved up to a waitress then when I turned 21, I got to become a full-time bartender. I was working my first shift as a bartender, the place was packed. Everyone's face began to blur 2 hours in until I saw Star. She was glowing, with these little metallic star stickers on her cheeks. She had some lanky, baby-faced boy attached to her at the hip. Asking for a glass of white wine and a bottle of beer. We both chatted up and the man-child got angry. I didn't realize what line of work Star was in until I heard the man-child's words. 'Honey, I paid for 2 hours! You wanna stop showing off and start blowing me off?!' I got mad over the way he grabbed Star's arm. I never leaped over a counter faster than I did that night. Charging at him, practically throwing him into a table with a couple of punches in. Star got her money and stayed near me the rest of the night. We became friends instantly. Funnily enough, we also found out as I offered to walk her home that were lived in the same apartment complex. We lived three doors away from each other. It was as though we meant to know each other.

"You want our usual spot Honey-bun?" Star's heels made a strange noise as the ground changed from cement to brown lament. Greg's Diner was our usual hangout. Though, Greg's was Star's thing before it became mine. The upholstery on each seat was red velour from the 80s. So worn down from years of use and burnt from cigarette holes. I swear this is the only and last place you could smoke inside in Los Angeles.

Star rushed over to our usual booth. Nestled in the corner of the diner. Star liked it because she could watch her surroundings, I liked it for another reason. I sat across from Star. I had no distractions other than to stare at her. Watch how she constantly fixes her hair, thinking it isn't perfect even though the way I saw it, her hair already was. Star was perfect. Everything about her was anything but perfection. Except...for the elephant in the room. Her job.

"You see they got new waiters? Young huh?" Star adjusted herself in the booth, peeling off her fur coat from her peachy-toned shoulders. She had more freckles on her shoulders than normal. I kept begging her to wear at least a dime-sized amount of sunscreen. It fell on deaf ears. Don't get me wrong, I adored her little freckles, but it did worry me some days. The heat radiates off her body after these types of nights. Wore down, even into the morning when we crossed paths. I just wish I could help her.

"Young? What am I then?" I flagged down one of the waiters as Star raised her bag to lay it on the table beside the window. "Now, now." She giggled. "You're not 18 anymore, they're babies." She gushed watching the youngin scurrying around like a bunch of headless chickens. "So what? I look road hard and put away wet?" The waiter came to our booth, said the mandatory greeting and took our order. Star ordered a bowl of tomato soup and black coffee with sugar. They didn't offer vegan substitutions for cream so Star always suffered. Funnily enough, I thought of possibly buying a small carton of vegan milk. For how often we come here, it's something to think of. I felt bad ordering meat in front of Star, but she kept reassuring me it was fine. That she was okay with it. I ordered their classic beef dip. Their fries are seasoned like a chef has Parkinson's, every fry is seasoned deliciously. The gravy was thick and actually tasted like beef. And the au jus is immaculate. Just thinking about the toasted bread dipped in the au jus makes my mouth water.

"Haha! Mack, I was just saying you don't look that young anymore. You do look young but you've matured. You hold yourself differently than they do. I still remember your baby face behind the bar counter shaking like a leaf." As Star's words whispered out, the waiter came back with a black coffee and a beer in a bottle. Star forgot the sugar packets were in a dish beside her purse, and I was surprised over the fact our waiter remembered to pop the cap off my beer bottle.

"Yeah, I think that thing you called 'matured' is stress" My shoulders raised as I pulled the bottle close to my chest. Star shook the sugar packet against her hand until she ripped it open to pour its contents into her cup. "It's not always this rough baby-doll, you'll get there." Star's hand lifted a spoon to stir. "I'm sorry to say darlin', but when? I'm making enough for rent and other bills, but I...it's just hard. I want a savings account, and what happens if I get hurt? I have no cash for medical bills! And-..."

"Woah, woah now! That's a lot in one go, Mack. It's fine. Here, how about this? We do it the old-fashioned way, we write down your expenses. Probably you can lay off the beer for a bit." Star paused taking hold of my beer as finished mid-sip. "We figure things you can lay off. And then each paycheck, I'll teach you how much you're supposed to put away. And god forbid if you need to go to the hospital, we'll pile money together and start payment plans." Star pushed the bottle back to me as the waiter came back with our food. "I don't want you to do that Star. I'll be okay with you helping me prioritize my finances but not you helping me with medical bills." The food came piping hot. Star's soup was large with a measly packet of crackers. That I'd normally eat, and my beef dip looked as though Jesus made it himself. Hey, there's probably a line cook named Jesus back there and by god, he makes a mean beef dip.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Well, after our late dinner, I needed to loosen my belt. That beef dip hit the spot. Star and I left Greg's after I paid. I had to fight off Star's offer of pay. We exited the diner, and it strangely became colder than we first entered. Though we should've known that would happen, it was 3 a.m. Star's jaw chattered, though with every glance I took, she tried her might to stop.

"Cold are we?" My hand reached over adjusting her coat over her shoulder. "N-no, I'm fine." She continued to chatter. "Fucksake Star, come on. Lemme get us a cab. Uber?"

"No Mack. We only have 4 more blocks left. That's a waste." Star closed her coat, wrapping it around her waist. "H-hurry up." Star grabbed my bicep through my leather jacket. My arm flexed as we both shuffled faster, we made it to the gate that surrounded our apartment complex. We scurried into our complex, across the parking lot where my truck was parked in front of the set of stairs that led to our apartment doors. We both separated, Star turned left to her door as I turned right to my place at the end of the hall. My key felt more warm than my hands as I let myself in.

My place wasn't much, I didn't have decor or an actual bedframe. I had Star help me drag out a wooden pallet from work home as the frame. It wasn't fancy but it was mine. My belongings, my place. I loved coming home and everything was as I left it. Nothing moved, no one to come home to and just start judging me. It was peaceful. My phone broke the silence as it dinged with a text.

*Star*

Thank you for dinner. Sorry If I didn't say it! I was fucking frozen! Lol

*Mack*

It's fine doll, I am too lol. Goodnight <3

I threw my phone landing on my black futon. The first thing I did as soon as I stepped foot is undo my leather belt and rip off my socks. I slipped my feet in my slippers walking over to the kitchen. Still silent. What else could it be? Los Angeles at 3 am might be still noisy to a newbie, but once you get used to it, the measure of noise fades and it's finally quiet. I opened the fridge to see a sight I too used to seeing. Nothing. A few lonely bottles of beer from a 6-pack I bought at the beginning of the week and a few bottled water from a 24-pack I purchased.

"Jesus...I need to get paid." I leaned in the fridge to grab a bottle of beer. I had a butter knife lying beside my fridge. I saw this dude on TikTok, he tapped the cold bottle twice on different areas of the glass then swiped up to pop the cap off. Instinctly, I had to try. All that can go bad is broken glass everywhere. I began to tap the bottom twice, then the middle, and in one fatal swoop, the cap went flying.

"Yes! Fuck yeah!" The pressure from the bottle made the almost bubble over. I celebrated by swiping the bottle up to my lips and taking in a celebratory drink. I noticed my much-enjoyed silence was cut short by the ring of my phone. I prayed it wasn't Trina. Saying something went wrong or chewing me out for doing or not doing something to her degree. I rushed over to retrieve it to see the screen. Thankfully it wasn't, it was Star.

"Star? What's up?"

"Mack, can you come over? Please. I need a little help." Her breaths were short as she spoke. "What's wrong? Is your door unlocked?" I stayed on the phone with her as I rushed over to the front door. "Y-yes..please hurry." I slapped the door running to Star's. I rushed into her place without hesitation. I've been over at Star's so much that we might as well just move in together. That would be the dream. At least for me, I don't know about Star.

"Star? Where are you?" I panicked around like a headless chicken until I heard Star's chopped breaths in her bedroom. Star's apartment looked just like mine in layout, but she had decor. Not much. A white couch, white curtains. She loved white until you reached her bedroom. She had white bedsheets and vintage tables but she always had a little dash of colour. She had a sheer pink cloth draped from her ceiling that hung over her bed. A canopy! That's what they're called.

"There you are! What the hell is wrong?" I saw Star sitting at her vanity, cigarette in hand hanging over a crystal ashtray she loved. "Well, I kinda made a mistake. I went to untie my corset and I think I made it tighter. I can't untie it Mack." She flicked her ash as she wiped her makeup off with a wipe. "Jesus, Star. So you thought smoking would help?"

"Can you give me this lecture later? Just help me take it off." She huffed pushing her cigarette out in the crystal tray. I placed my beer on her vanity next to her makeup wipes. Star had tried her might to untie but the bow had turned into a knot. "Haha fine, you've suffered enough huh?"

"Very much so. I am so tired and sore. I know you don't like me talking about work but fuck Mack. These men think I'm a pretzel. My thighs are killing me." My nail caught onto the knot and I loosened it.

"Haha! But you kinda are Star. I'm 23 and I cannot wrap my ankles around my head but god forbid you still can." The ties unravelled against Star's back, and the corset created an imprint along her bare back stopping in the middle of her spine, whereas the string made its mark along her spine. "Still huh? Tell that to my hips...ha...it's funny. Well, not really if you think about it, but I would rather have my forehead pinned against a car window than in the motels. They're always quicker in cars." Star giggled throwing a makeup wipe in a trash bin, pulling a few glass bottles forward. I knew they were skincare, but the only skincare I knew of was moisturizer, sunscreen and cleanser. Hers looked so foreign to me. Star said I needed something that would make me 'look' less oily.

"Haha," I laughed nervously. "Well that makes sense, carpool lanes can be busy." Star snorted as she rubbed a milky-white serum on her cheeks and forehead trying to raise her eyebrows. "Oh my god shut up." She joked elbowing my hip. All of the strings of her corset were loose enough for her to remove. Star stopped her skin routine to hold the corset against her chest. She stood up kicking off her massive heels. She spun around my body turning her back to face me. She let her arms go off her chest, as the corset dropped to the floor. I peered away swiftly, however, I did take notice of Star's body move in her vanity mirror. The way Star's warm ivory skin radiated from the lightbulbs next to her bed. Her skin was golden silk. Her somewhat nude body always caught my attention. As she silently moved across the laminate floor. Her ruffled underwear slipped off tossing it on the foot of her bed, only wearing her thigh garters. The little cluster of scars on her arm from some freak accident in her childhood showed prominently as she trotted over to a large basket full of clothes. Rummaging her beloved favourites. "So you thought it was a good idea to drink more beer after dinner huh?" Star's eyes met mine in the vanity. I suppose she noticed I was watching her, or she's always known. "To be frank, I may or may not have gotten groceries in a bit." I pivoted my ankles facing Star, stretching my arms out to fetch my beer and taking a sip. Star froze her search in the basket cocking her head over to me. "Are you serious Mack!? I told you Monday you should've come with me to get groceries! What do you have for food?!" Star quit making decisions as she leaned forward for her silk rope slipping it on her arms. "Um..well...I have the rest of my 6 pack of beer."

"I see that Mack. I didn't ask about that, I asked about food." Star slipped her bare feet into a pair of white fuzzy slippers towards me. Her shoulder brushed mine as she ripped bobby pins and elastics out of her hair. "You remember that 24 pack of water from Costco?"

"Jesus Christ Mack! You have to stop doing this. Every month you do this, you scrimp and save thinking something bad will happen but you refuse to buy groceries!" Star clenched her hands on either side of my biceps giving me a small shake. "Haha...come on doll, I just forgot. That's all." I pulled away from her arms. Star huffed as her eyes rolled back. "Fine! But, you're going grocery shopping with me tomorrow." Star ushered me out of her room to the living room. Star bent her arm beside the coffee table to grab the tv remote. "You want to finish that show we were watching?" The TV light glowed with the Netflix logo popped up.

I hate to say Star was never confrontational with me, but she was. We would bicker over things but it would never escalate. She's normally a bubbly and cheery personality, though, I've seen Star drag a John 3 blocks by his ankles to an ATM. She has her moments and uses them wisely. "Sure, but I thought you didn't like it? Too scary for you remember?"

"For me yes, you had one more episode but I'm in the mood for toast. You want a slice?" Star sauntered to her little kitchenette for bread and perhaps peanut butter. I hope.

"Sure, why not. What harm can bread do before bed." I slumped into Star's well-loved white couch. Its grooves made my ass a permanent residence known all too well. I left the right corner for Star, as I knew if I dared to sit there I would be scooched immediately.

"Mack, I think you get nightmares from eating sugar before bed, not bread." Star chuckled dropping two pieces of toast in the toaster. In a thankful sight, I saw the smooth peanut butter. Star and I both agree Chunky Peanut is god-awful.

"You may be right, but I swear last time I ate peanut butter toast this late I had that one dream of that freaky amputee girl, you remember? With the glass eye?"

"Haha! Coco! I knew she freaked you out. What kind of dream?"

"Yeah, she freaks me the fuck out. High on fent and wobbling around on a makeshift leg, that girl can cause carpet burn on that broom handle."

"Mack!"

"Haha, I'm just saying that woman was rode hard and put away wet. Anyway, I always have the same nightmare that I'm walking home from work, looking for you and Coco comes up behind me. The chick comes running at me like Usain Bolt." I leaned back onto the couch as I saw Star come around with two plates.

"Maybe you need to take a new route." Star plobbed herself in her usual spot. As she handed me a plate. "Maybe you need a new job Star." My show began without a hitch as Star rustled around to get comfortable. "Mack," She sighed. "Darling in a perfect world that can work, but honey, I'm 57 years old. I've been doing this work since I was your age. I don't know how to do anything else." She muttered as she bit into the corner of her toast.

"I know honey, but there are alternatives. I just don't want you to get hurt." I finished my slice of toast quicker than Star, I leaned forward to place the plate on the coffee table. I slumped back into the cushions stretching my arms out on the backrest. "You're such a worrier. That's all you do. You're too young to worry so much."

"Yeah, I guess so." I huffed, as I held my tongue back. What I wanted to say could throw Star off. She wanted a best friend, I wanted her for more. So much more.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The ending to my show was shit. The entire series was gory and full of horror, so why is it the last goddamn episode has to be so mushy and lovey-dovey. Star actually liked it. Well, half of it that is. She fell asleep mid-way. Curled up resting her head on the armrest. I slowly got up from my spot not to wake her. Star says she doesn't snore, but I beg to differ. They're faint, but her snores are cute. Especially when she's in a good sleep and you notice a little drool. I picked up our plates bringing them to the sink. I tried my best to quietly turn the faucet to wash the dishes. I didn't want Star to wake up to anything dirty. I nested them into her drying rack as I flicked on the overhead stove light. I tip-toed back to where Star was asleep, turning off the TV. I made my way to the front door before rethinking that decision. I halted to see Star's hands were locked between her thighs. I bet she was cold in her robe. I got close enough to Star to grab the white throw blanket draped on the couch, unfolding it to lay across her. Making sure her feet were covered as well.

I wanted to stay with her, I wanted to kiss her forehead. I had to stop myself before I did something I'd regret. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was just me. Being me. I cannot help it, Star's everything to me.

"Goodnight Star," I whispered before opening the door. I locked the door before I left Star's apartment. The cold night air hit me roughly enough to lose my breath. I ran back to my unlocked apartment locking up for the night.

"Luxury is not a necessity to me, but beautiful and good things are." - Anaïs Nin 

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 21✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Angst, HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language

Word Count: 7234

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

That evening, you found yourself standing in front of Dean’s door, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of the oversized shirt you wore. The fabric smelled like him, one you’d stolen months ago before anything between you and Dean had even started. Wearing it now felt comforting, almost like carrying a piece of him with you. After weeks of his retreating, today had felt like a breakthrough, even if your lower belly still ached from earlier.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip before finally raising your hand and knocking gently on the door. The knock was so soft it almost wasn’t there, but you knew Dean would hear it. He always seemed attuned to you in a way that felt both comforting and overwhelming.

“Yeah?”, his familiar voice called out, rough and low.

“It’s me”, you said softly, barely audible.

There was a shuffle inside, followed by a pause, and then the door opened. Dean stood there, leaning slightly against the doorframe, his good hand braced on the wood. His green eyes took you in slowly, and you could feel his gaze lingering as he noticed the shirt you were wearing. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his expression softened at the sight of you.

“Hey”, he murmured, his voice low and warm. “What’s up?”.

You hesitated, words caught in your throat as your eyes darted anywhere but his face. You couldn’t explain why you felt so shy around him sometimes, especially when there were other moments you’d been so bold. But right now, with him towering over your much smaller frame, it was like every ounce of confidence had drained out of you.

He wasn’t even trying, and yet he completely unraveled you. The sight of him standing there in nothing but sweatpants, the outline of his dick visible through the fabric, made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch. His freckled chest was bare, the soft bulge of his muscles hinting at strength tempered by years of living that way he did. And that soft trail of freckles down his abdomen—it was almost unfair how effortlessly commanding he looked. Sometimes you forgot just how much older he was, how his presence could make you feel like you were being stared down by a goddamn storm.

Dean noticed your hesitation, his head tilting slightly as his smirk widened. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”, he asked, his voice low and teasing, the rasp in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“I, um…”. You trailed off, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. His gaze dropped briefly to where your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, and you caught the faintest flicker of something darker in his expression before he locked eyes with you again.

“Sweetheart”, he murmured, stepping closer until the toes of his bare feet almost touched yours. He loomed over you, the warmth of his body radiating against you. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, or do I have to guess?”.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you managed to say, “I… I wanted to know if I could sleep in here tonight”.

Dean’s lips twitched, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched you fidget under his gaze. You were his girlfriend, after all—asking him if you could sleep in his bed felt almost absurd. But then again, you weren’t like anyone else. You were his way-too-young girlfriend, as he reminded himself constantly, and sometimes that mix of shyness and boldness that you carried was enough to throw him off-kilter.

“You’re asking?”, he said, his tone a mix of teasing and disbelief. His green eyes softened, but the smirk lingered, and he took another small step closer, his broad frame completely dwarfing yours now. “Sweetheart, you don’t need permission to be in here. It’s your bed as much as it is mine”.

You blinked up at him, your cheeks still flushed as you tried to find the words to respond. Dean caught the slight tremble in your bottom lip, the way you couldn’t quite hold his gaze for too long without looking away. His smirk softened into something more tender as he tilted his head slightly.

“What’s got you so damn nervous, huh?”, he asked quietly, his voice dipping lower. “It’s just me”.

You let out a soft, nervous laugh, your fingers still toying with the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “You’re not exactly ‘just you’ right now”, you mumbled, your words half teasing, half shy.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”.

You hesitated, glancing down at his chest before your eyes darted away again, your blush deepening. “You look like… that”, you muttered, gesturing vaguely toward him.

Dean’s smirk widened at your words, his eyes glinting with that mischievous spark that always seemed to make your stomach flutter. He tilted his head slightly, clearly enjoying your embarrassment as you gestured vaguely toward him.

“And after this morning”, you added quickly, your voice dropping to a mumble, “I know what you can do with that”. You waved awkwardly toward his sweatpants, your face turning an even deeper shade of red as the words left your lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared down at your bare toes against the cool bunker floor.

Dean chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver racing up your spine. “That so?”, he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement and something far darker. He took another small step closer, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over you. “You’re thinking about that now, huh? That what’s got you all flustered, sweetheart?”.

You didn’t answer, but your silence spoke volumes. You didn’t even know why everything felt so heated right now, why your cheeks were burning or why you couldn’t seem to calm the racing of your heart. Something about the side of Dean he’d shown you this morning—the side that had been so confident, so commanding, so utterly sure of himself—had your thoughts tangled up in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

"You’re the worst”, you muttered, your voice low and laced with a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. You tried to step past him toward the bed, eager to escape the weight of his teasing gaze, but Dean had other plans.

Without missing a beat, his long arm extended to the side, his hand catching you gently but firmly at the shoulder. The move was effortless, fluid, and before you could protest, he was pulling you back against him, your smaller frame flush against his broad chest.

The warmth of him was immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon, and your breath hitched as you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. His arm dropped from your shoulder, wrapping around your waist instead, holding you in place as his good hand rested lightly against your hip. The sheer size of him, the way his body seemed to completely envelop yours, made your cheeks flush even more.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the rough rasp sending a shiver through you. His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he leaned down slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “Not gonna run away from me, are you?”.

Your hands instinctively flew to his arm, gripping it as you tilted your head to glance up at him. “Dean”, you said softly, your tone half a plea, half a warning.

His lips twitched into that familiar, infuriating smirk. “What?”, he asked innocently, though the way his hand tightened on your waist said otherwise. “You seem pretty eager to get away for someone wearing my shirt and thinking about this morning”.

You let out a huff of frustration, though it did little to hide the way your pulse was racing.

Dean’s smirk deepened as he took in your flustered state, clearly reveling in the effect he had on you. Before you could muster another retort, his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, brushing against it in a way that sent a shiver racing through your body. The roughness of his stubble against your skin only heightened the sensation, and you felt your breath catch as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice shaky, though you weren’t sure if it was meant as a protest or a plea.

His good hand tightened on your hip, his thumb brushing the hem of your shirt as his lips continued their assault on your neck. “You say my name like that”, he murmured against your skin, his voice low and gravelly, “and you really think I’m just gonna let you go?”.

Before you could respond, his hand dropped lower, slipping between your legs with deliberate ease. The heat pooling in your core flared as his fingers brushed against the edge of your panties, the touch light but purposeful. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck as his lips lingered there. “Let’s see if you’re as dripping wet as I think you are”.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, brushing against you in a way that made your knees weaken. His movements were slow, almost teasing, but the heat radiating from his touch left no doubt about his intent. When his fingers slid against your slickness, he let out a low, throaty groan that made your stomach twist with desire.

“Shit”, he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. “I knew it”. His voice was rough, almost strained, as he continued to stroke you with agonizing precision. “You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. Did I do this to you? Huh?”.

You whimpered softly, unable to find the words as his fingers worked you expertly. The intensity of his touch, paired with the way he towered over you, made it impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Tell me”, he demanded softly, his tone dark and commanding as his thumb brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars. “Tell me who made you like this”.

“You”, you gasped, your grip on his arm tightening as your body arched into his touch. “You, Dean”.

His smirk returned, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispered, “That’s my girl”.

"Dean", you begged.

He didn’t need you to explain what you were begging for—he could see it in your flushed cheeks, your trembling hands, the way your body pressed into him as if seeking something only he could give. But he also knew about the ache still lingering in your belly, the soreness from earlier, and that knowledge tempered his hunger with something deeper: care.

Without missing a beat, Dean shifted his grip on your hips and pushed you gently toward the bed. The movement was firm but careful, his touch steady as he guided you backward until your legs hit the edge of the mattress. You gasped softly as you fell back onto the bed, your hair spilling across the covers, but he didn’t give you time to think, to hesitate, or to pull away.

Dean followed immediately, his strong frame settling between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs firmly but tenderly. His green eyes burned with intensity as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of desire and determination. “I’ve got you”, he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

With a deliberate motion, he spread your legs wider, his hands sliding down to hook under your knees and hold you open for him. The sight of you laid out like this, flushed and vulnerable, made his chest tighten with possessive pride. He didn’t bother pulling your panties off; instead, he grabbed the damp fabric and pushed it aside, exposing your glistening center to his hungry gaze.

“Look at you”, Dean muttered, his tone dark with awe as his good hand traced the curve of your inner thigh. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. Absolutely perfect”.

You squirmed under his gaze, the heat of his words making your cheeks burn as you mumbled, “Dean, please…”.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against your inner thigh as he whispered, “I know, baby. I know what you need”. His thumb pressed lightly against your swollen folds, teasing you with a feather-light touch. “But you’re sore, aren’t you?”.

You nodded shyly, your breath hitching as his thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle. “Yeah”, you admitted softly.

Dean smirked, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Then let me take care of you", he said, his voice rough with promise. “Nice and slow, sweetheart. I’ll make it good. You just lie back and let me handle everything”.

Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment, his smirk softening into something darker, hungrier, as he drew in a deep breath. “Mmmm”, he murmured, the sound low and throaty, almost as if he were savoring the thought.

“Did I ever tell you”, he started, his voice rough and quiet, “how sweet you taste? Huh?”. His green eyes flicked back up to yours, his lips quirking into a smirk that was equal parts playful and sinful. “Always so fucking sweet”. The words were spoken more to himself than to you, as if he was completely lost in the moment, unable to resist you even if he wanted to.

You shivered under his gaze, your body already reacting to the intensity in his voice and the deliberate movements of his hand. “Dean…”, you whispered, your voice a mix of need and anticipation.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart”.

The rough pads of his fingers brushed against you, teasing along your folds with a deliberate slowness that left you trembling. When his thumb pressed against your most sensitive spot, your back arched slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips. The reaction pulled a low groan from Dean, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your thigh as he murmured, “Let me make you feel good, baby. Just relax”.

Dean’s lips closed around your wet clit with precision, drawing a deep, needy whimper from your throat as your body arched against his mouth. His tongue worked you with slow, deliberate movements, tracing patterns that left your mind spinning. Your wetness was everywhere—messily spread across his lips, his nose, his beard—and Dean loved every second of it.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you. His good hand gripped your thigh tightly, keeping you spread and steady for him as he dove in with relentless focus. “So fucking sweet”, he mumbled between movements, his voice muffled but full of raw hunger. “Could taste you all night, sweetheart”.

His nose brushed against your clit as he pressed his tongue deeper, his beard scraping lightly against your inner thighs, adding a delicious friction to the already overwhelming sensations. Every part of him was immersed in you, lost in your taste, your scent, your trembling body beneath him.

Your fingers tangled in his short hair, pulling slightly as your hips bucked instinctively against his mouth. “Dean”, you gasped, your voice high and breathless as pleasure built rapidly in your core. “Dean, I—oh, Fuck”.

He growled low in his throat, the sound primal and possessive as he tightened his grip on you. His lips closed around your clit again, sucking gently before his tongue flicked against the swollen bundle of nerves, making your entire body shudder.

“You’re so damn perfect”, he murmured, his words punctuated by the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you. “This is mine—every inch of you, all mine”.

The claim sent a rush of heat through you, your moans growing louder as the coil in your belly tightened further, threatening to snap under the intensity of his ministrations. Dean wasn’t letting up, wasn’t giving you a chance to catch your breath as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as the tension in your belly reached its peak, your breath hitching as the edge loomed closer, Dean withdrew suddenly. The loss of his mouth on you was jarring, and a desperate whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your body ached, trembling with the need for release, but Dean’s hands remained firm on your thighs, keeping you spread and exposed beneath him.

“Dean”, you gasped, your voice shaking with frustration and desire as your hips bucked slightly, searching for the pressure he’d just stolen away. “Why did you—”.

“Shh, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and full of unshakable control. His green eyes burned with heat as he looked up at you, his lips and beard glistening with your wetness. “Not yet”.

You groaned, your head falling back against the mattress as your hands gripped the sheets. “Dean, please—”.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up as his thumb brushed against the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I always get you there so fast”, he said, almost to himself, his tone laced with teasing pride. “But right now? I want to take my time. Wanna watch you fall apart for me, nice and slow”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart pounded in your chest as his good hand trailed up your thigh, his touch deliberate and maddeningly slow. He leaned down, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just above your knee, then another higher up, his stubble scratching deliciously against you.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked down at him, your cheeks flushed. “You’re killing me”.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as he worked his way up your body, his kisses growing wetter, hotter, as he moved closer to where you needed him most. “You’ll survive”, he said, his tone laced with amusement. “But only if you behave”.

You bit your lip, trying to stay still as his lips hovered over your center, the heat of his breath making you shudder. He smirked, clearly enjoying your struggle, before dipping his head again, his tongue teasing along your folds in a slow, languid stroke.

“Good girl”, he murmured against your skin, the words sending a rush of heat through you. “Now, let’s see just how long I can keep you begging for me”.

Dean was relentless, dragging you right to the edge over and over again, only to pull back just as your body began to tremble, desperate for release. His tongue, lips, and fingers moved with maddening precision, each touch calculated to drive you wild. The sheer intensity of it had your entire body taut with tension, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Sweat began to gather on your forehead, your chest rising and falling as you clutched the sheets beneath you, your knuckles white from the force of your grip. Your thighs trembled in his hands, the overstimulation and denial leaving you a wreck. “Dean”, you whimpered, your voice cracking as you looked down at him, your eyes glassy and filled with desperation. “Please, I—I can’t—”.

His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked smirk playing on his glistening lips. “You can”, he rasped, his voice deep and full of command. “And you will”. His thumb brushed over your swollen clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made your hips jerk against his hold. “You’ll come when I say you can”.

A frustrated whine escaped you, your body trembling with the effort to hold back the release he’d been denying you for what felt like an eternity. “Dean”, you pleaded again, tears brimming in your eyes as your chest heaved. “Please, I can’t take anymore”.

He chuckled, the sound dark and full of satisfaction as he kissed the inside of your thigh, the scruff of his beard scraping against your sensitive skin. “Oh, sweetheart”. he murmured, his breath hot against your flesh. “You can take everything I give you. You’re my girl, aren’t you? My good girl”.

You nodded frantically, tears spilling over as your body writhed beneath his unrelenting touch. “Yes”, you choked out. “Yes, Dean, I am”.

“That’s right”, he growled, his voice low and full of authority. His thumb pressed firmly against your clit, circling slowly as his other hand gripped your hip to keep you in place. “And good girls listen, don’t they? So hold on for me, sweetheart. Just a little longer”.

The sheer command in his voice sent another wave of heat through you, and despite the overwhelming need coursing through your body, you nodded, your lips trembling. “Okay”, you whispered, barely able to form the word as he pushed you to the edge once more, your entire body quivering with the effort to hold back.

Eventually, you lay completely spent in his arms, your body still trembling from the intensity of everything Dean had put you through. Your chest rose and fell against his, your heart still drumming wildly in your ears as you struggled to catch your breath. The air in the room was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and satisfaction clinging to your skin as you melted against him.

Dean held you close, his good hand tracing soft, absentminded circles on your back, his touch a stark contrast to the way he had dominated you moments ago. The shift in him was always so seamless—the way he could be so commanding, so ruthless in his control, and then turn around and hold you like this, like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Your lips parted slightly as you finally found your voice, though it was hoarse and barely above a whisper. “What was this called again?”, you asked breathlessly, tilting your head slightly to look up at him.

Dean smirked, his fingers still ghosting over your bare skin as he let out a soft chuckle. “You mean what I just did to you?”, he teased, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You swallowed, your face heating as you tried to form words. “Yeah. The whole… not letting me…”. You trailed off, your cheeks burning, but Dean understood exactly what you meant.

“Edging”, he murmured, his smirk widening as he pressed a lazy kiss to your forehead. “It’s called edging, sweetheart”.

You let out a small, exhausted sigh, your fingers weakly gripping at his chest. “You’re evil”, you muttered, nuzzling into him as if trying to hide your face.

Dean chuckled again, the sound deep and rich as his arms tightened around you. “Evil?”, he repeated, mock-offended. “I just gave you more orgasms than you can probably count, and you’re callin’ me evil?”.

You huffed, still too drained to argue, and instead closed your eyes, letting his warmth consume you. “Maybe just a little”, you mumbled sleepily.

Dean grinned, pressing another soft kiss to your temple before resting his chin atop your head. “Get some sleep, baby”, he whispered against your hair. “You’re gonna need it”.

You chuckled breathlessly against Dean’s chest, your body still buzzing, your mind too wired to even think about resting. “I don’t think I can sleep”, you admitted, your voice a soft murmur against his skin.

Dean hummed low in his throat, his fingers still tracing slow, lazy circles on your back. “That so?”, he mused, his voice deep and gravelly, still tinged with satisfaction. “Guess I might’ve overdone it, huh?”.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe just a little”, you teased, though the exhaustion in your limbs betrayed you.

Dean smirked, his good hand moving up to brush a damp strand of hair away from your face. “Well, sweetheart”, he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “I could always tire you out some more”.

Your breath caught slightly, your already spent body twitching at the implication in his tone. “Dean”, you muttered, rolling your eyes, though the warmth pooling in your belly made it clear that the idea wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Relax, baby”, he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Not gonna push you”. His fingers kept their soothing motions on your back, grounding you, easing you back into the quiet calm of the room.

You exhaled, nuzzling against him, allowing yourself to soak in the warmth and security of his embrace. “I just feel… too wired”, you admitted. “Like my body’s still trying to catch up with my brain”.

Dean sighed softly, shifting slightly so he could look down at you. “Alright”, he murmured, “how about this—I’ll hold you, and you just close those pretty eyes. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me, sweetheart”.

You blinked up at him, something warm and soft settling in your chest. His words weren’t just reassuring—they were a promise. A reminder that despite everything, despite how rough and intense he could be, he would always take care of you.

You swallowed thickly, then nodded, whispering, “Okay”.

Dean pulled you closer, tucking you against him as his lips pressed against your hair. “That’s my girl”, he murmured.

And with his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek and the warmth of his arms wrapped around you, the tension in your body finally began to ease. Sleep didn’t seem so impossible anymore.

The next morning, you stirred awake to the soft rustling of fabric and the faint clink of a belt buckle being fastened. Your body was still heavy with sleep, your muscles sore but content from the night before. Blinking against the dim light filtering into the room, you turned your head toward Dean.

He stood near the bed, shirtless, his back to you as he fastened his belt, the muscles in his shoulders shifting with every movement. His duffel bag sat at the foot of the bed, packed and ready to go. It took a second for your foggy brain to piece it together, but when it did, your stomach dropped.

He was going on a hunt.

And he hadn’t told you.

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand, where his phone lay face-up, the screen illuminated with the time—too early for him to be up unless something was going on. Swallowing thickly, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your voice still thick with sleep. “Dean?”.

He froze for a fraction of a second before sighing softly and turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was undeniable. “Hey, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice gruff, like he hadn’t wanted to wake you.

Your gaze darted to his bag, then back to him. “Where are you going?”. You already knew the answer, but you needed to hear him say it.

Dean hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. “Got a job”, he finally admitted, not meeting your eyes. “Nothing big, just a quick run”.

Your stomach twisted. He was lying.

You pushed yourself more upright, wincing slightly at the dull ache in your belly from the night before, but you ignored it. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me?”, you asked, your voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable.

Dean sighed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he sat on the edge of the bed, resting his forearms on his thighs. His fingers laced together, his knuckles slightly white from how tightly he held them. “I wasn’t”, he admitted, his voice low. “Didn’t wanna wake you“.

“You didn’t want me to join, huh?”, you whispered absentmindedly, more to yourself than to him, but Dean heard it. The weight of your voice, the unspoken truth behind it, hung between you both. It was obvious. After the last hunt, where he had nearly gotten himself killed saving your ass, he didn’t want to take the chance again. Not with you. Not so soon.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly at your words, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he was bracing himself for an argument he didn’t want to have. His arm was still wrapped in the plaster, still cradled protectively against his side, a stark reminder that he wasn’t fully healed.

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he ran his good hand over his face. “It’s not about that”, he said, but the lie was flimsy at best.

You narrowed your eyes, your chest tightening as frustration built inside you. “Then what is it about, Dean?”. You shifted fully, ignoring the sting in your belly as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the sheets pooling around your thighs. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re trying to protect me from something I don’t need protecting from”.

His head snapped up at that, his green eyes locking onto yours with a sharpness that made your breath hitch. “You don’t need protecting?”, he repeated, his voice low, edged with something dangerous. “Sweetheart, last time you almost died”.

“Last time, you almost died”, you shot back, your tone unwavering.

Dean clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into a fist on his knee. “Exactly”, he muttered. “And that’s not happening again”.

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy between you. Dean’s words echoed in your head, cutting through your frustration and hitting something deeper—something raw. You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of the sheets beneath you as guilt coiled tight in your chest.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, the words barely audible, but Dean caught them. His head snapped up, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he studied you.

His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. “What the hell are you sorry for?”. His voice was gruff, laced with something rougher than anger—something closer to disbelief.

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Because”, you exhaled, “this is my fault, isn’t it?”. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and the vulnerability there must have hit him hard, because his whole body stiffened. “You never wanted to take me on that hunt. You warned me, told me I wasn’t ready, but I insisted. And then you—”. Your breath hitched, and you forced yourself to say it. “You got hurt. Badly”.

Dean’s jaw ticked, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just sat there, his good hand flexing into a fist against his thigh. His expression was tight, unreadable. But you could see the storm brewing in his eyes, the way his lips pressed into a firm line.

“That what you think?”, he muttered finally, his voice dangerously low.

You bit your lip, unsure how to answer. Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Sweetheart, let me make one thing crystal fucking clear”, he said, his tone slow and deliberate. “You didn’t make me do a damn thing”.

You opened your mouth, but he wasn’t done.

“I make my own choices”, he continued, his voice rough, edged with something almost self-destructive. “I went on that hunt because I chose to. I threw myself in front of you because I chose to. You think I wouldn’t do that a thousand times over?”. His green eyes locked onto yours, intense and unyielding. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to you if I could stop it?”.

Your throat tightened. “But you got hurt”.

Dean let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s what happens in this life, sweetheart. We get hurt. We bleed. We damn well almost die more times than we can count”. He inhaled sharply, his jaw working as he rubbed his good hand over his face. “I don’t blame you for that, so don’t you dare start blaming yourself”.

The guilt was still there, pressing against your ribs like a weight you couldn’t shake. But Dean’s words—his unfiltered, raw honesty—chipped away at it, just a little.

You shook your head. “I just—I don’t want to be the reason you end up—”. Your voice wavered, and you couldn’t finish.

Dean’s expression softened then, just slightly, and he leaned closer, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up. “The only thing that’ll kill me is this goddamn job”, he murmured, his voice softer now, but still firm. “Not you. Never you”.

Dean let out a slow breath, his thumb brushing absently over your chin as he stared at you. His touch was warm, steady, grounding—but it didn’t change the truth of what he was doing. His bag was packed. His belt was fastened. And he was about to leave. Without you.

You leaned into his palm, savoring the warmth, but the ache in your chest wouldn’t go away. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you asked, “Then why are you leaving me behind?”.

Dean closed his eyes briefly, like he was trying to keep his own emotions in check, before letting his hand drop from your face. He sighed, rubbing his good hand over his jaw as if the weight of his own decisions was starting to crush him. When he finally looked at you again, his expression was unreadable—but his eyes, those damn green eyes, were filled with something raw.

“Because I have to”, he said quietly, and the way his voice cracked slightly at the end made your stomach twist. “Because if something happened to you out there, I—”. He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as he clenched his jaw. His hands flexed at his sides, tension rolling off him in waves.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, blinking up at him. “So you just get to decide that?”, you asked, your voice trembling, but there was an edge to it now. “You get to choose when I’m involved, when I get to be part of this life? Part of your life?”.

Dean’s expression darkened, his jaw ticking as he stared at you. “It’s not a choice, sweetheart”, he said, his voice tight. “It’s keeping you safe”.

“But what if I don’t want to be safe?”, you shot back, standing up fully now despite the dull ache in your stomach. “What if I want to be with you, no matter what?”. Your voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotion clawing its way up your throat. “You said it yourself, Dean—this job, it gets people hurt. It gets people killed. So what, I just sit here in the bunker and wait for you to come back? Wait for Sam to come back? Wonder if this is the time you don’t?”.

Dean’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, his breathing uneven. He took a step back, running a hand through his already messy hair. “You don’t get it”, he muttered.

“Then make me get it”, you demanded, taking a step closer.

Dean let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “You think you want this”, he said, his voice rough, almost bitter. “You think you can handle it. But you don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you love bleed out in front of you, knowing you can’t stop it. Knowing it’s your fault”. His voice wavered at the end, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve lost too many people, sweetheart. I can’t lose you too”.

Your breath hitched. The rawness in his voice, the way his body seemed coiled like a spring, like he was barely holding himself together—it was enough to shatter your anger in an instant. But it didn’t change the fact that he was still leaving.

You reached for his hand instinctively, lacing your fingers through his, gripping tight. “Dean”, you whispered, “I know this isn’t easy. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing while you—”.

He squeezed your hand, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment before he pulled away. Pulled away.

“I have to go”, he said softly, and the finality in his voice broke something inside you.

Dean had barely made it to the garage, his bag slung over his good shoulder, Sam already leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, waiting. He gave Dean a look—one that was equal parts You okay? and You sure about this? but Dean just sighed, shaking his head, already mentally pushing past whatever guilt was gnawing at him.

Then, before he could reach for the car door, he felt a sharp tug on his wrist.

Dean turned, startled by the sheer force of it, only to find you standing there, breathless, frustrated, and looking impossibly small in nothing but one of his shirts. The sight of you in it—bare legs, messy hair, eyes still heavy with sleep but blazing with determination—knocked the air out of his lungs. His heart clenched at how goddamn cute you looked, but the look on your face told him this wasn’t about that.

“At least give me a proper goodbye”, you grumbled, your fingers still curled tightly around his wrist.

Dean blinked down at you, stunned by your sudden presence, your sheer stubbornness. Sam, wisely, looked away, running a hand over his face like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head with the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Sweetheart, you really came out here in just my shirt to pick a fight with me?”. His voice was low, teasing, but there was something softer beneath it, something hesitant.

Your brows furrowed, and you huffed, standing your ground despite the way he towered over you. “I’m not picking a fight”, you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. “But I want the girlfriend treatment”.

Dean blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your response. A slow smirk spread across his face as he tilted his head, eyeing you with something that was half amusement, half god, you’re cute as shit. He took a step closer, his good hand twitching at his side like he was resisting the urge to just grab you and hold you close.

Sam, who had been attempting to stay out of this, groaned from the passenger seat. “Oh my god”, he muttered under his breath. “Just kiss her, Dean, so we can go”.

Dean ignored him, his green eyes locked onto yours as he reached out, his fingers grazing your chin before gently pinching your cheek. “Damn, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice full of affection. “You’re cute when you’re all demanding”.

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you swatted at his hand. “Dean”, you grumbled, but there was no heat behind it.

His smirk softened into something more genuine, more him. “Alright, alright”, he said, lifting both hands in surrender before stepping even closer, his body warm and familiar as it loomed over yours. “You want the girlfriend treatment, huh?”.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression serious, but your heart was already racing at the way his eyes darkened just slightly, the way he looked at you like you were the most important thing in the damn world.

Dean let out a small chuckle before finally giving you what you wanted—what you needed. His hand cupped the side of your face, rough and warm, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t just a quick see you later kind of kiss. No, this was slow, lingering, meant to make up for the fact that he was leaving you behind. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and his lips moved against yours with the kind of care that made your knees weak.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Better?”.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Better”, you admitted, even though you still hated watching him walk away.

“But don’t think we’re done talking about the hunting thing”, you mumbed and he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“I know we’re not done”, he murmured, amusement lacing his voice. “You don’t let anything go that easy”.

You pulled back just enough to give him a pointed look, your arms still wrapped around yourself. “That’s because you’re being ridiculous”, you huffed. “I’ve trained for this, Dean. You and Sam both made sure of it. But now—”. You swallowed, trying to steady the tightness creeping into your chest. “Now that we’re… this, it’s like you’re putting me back on the sidelines”.

Dean sighed again, this time heavier, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. “It’s not about that, sweetheart”.

You knew Dean—knew that once his mind was set, there was little you could do to change it in the moment. And as much as you wanted to fight him on this right now, you also knew that if he was up this early, if his bag was already packed, he had to go.

“We’ll talk when you’re home”, you whispered, finally relenting. You lifted yourself on your toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean didn’t move at first, but then his good hand came up, curling around your waist, holding you there for just a second longer than necessary.

When you finally pulled away, you gave him a pointed look, your finger poking at the bare skin of his chest. “And that’s how you say goodbye”, you grumbled, your tone carrying just enough annoyance to mask the ache settling deep in your stomach.

Dean let out a breathy chuckle, his hand covering yours, pressing it against his chest like he wanted to keep you there. “Yes, ma’am”, he murmured, smirking, but there was something softer in his gaze now.

“I’ll be back before you know it”, he promised, his voice quieter now, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You crossed your arms, watching as he grabbed his bag and moved toward the Impala. “You better”, you muttered under your breath, but he heard it.

Dean turned back one last time, flashing you a wink before slipping into the driver’s seat. Sam gave you a small nod before following him in, and just like that, they were gone.

And you stood there, arms still wrapped around yourself, already counting down the hours until he came home.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Part 22

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs @emily- @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[awrkive]

OOOOH this event sounds so fun, could I have angst #21 (the bl*od one) with JK please? Low-key I’m thinking of like a royal vibe where like they’re both royals but enemies but it’s up to you Dee whatever you write I will gladly eat up 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

callofthegreen asked: Angst+21+ Jungkook (I'm a sucker for angst, and you always make it hurt so good, love you 💗)

21. "Is that... blood? Please tell me it isn't blood."

note: you said royals and i immediately thought... fantasy 🤓🤓 man idk the setting is very much inspired by mlbb universe 😭 this is kinda erm but hope you both enjoy i tried my best! 😭

wc: 1.8k (boo i know sorry)

You try to conceal the uncomfortable gnawing at your thigh – but the trek to the steep of the mountain was getting too much to bear, and every passing second is starting to feel like suicide. 

Subtly looking to the side, you observe Jungkook stands just fine. He has cuts all over his face from the attack of the common creeps back at the jungle, but he generally looks okay overall. Meanwhile, you still haven’t told him a horned lizard got you good and sliced quite deeply at your thigh when you made the mistake of kicking at the wrong time. 

It hurts like hell. Jungkook has been offering to stop by at few spots whenever he hears you inhale a sharp breath, probably assuming your discomfort about the length of the walk, but you couldn’t have it in you for him to think that you aren’t built for this. 

He’s spent the entirety of your childhood mocking you for your poor archery skills, laughing with his older cousins about how you couldn’t even pick up a sword the right way. He bitched and moaned about his status to be prince – completely wanting to be a warrior instead, and as a result insulted you for acquiescing to your royal responsibility of being princess. 

You hate him for many things. Hate him for how he affected you all those years, hate him for making you cry on the night of your 13th birthday, hate him for the fact that your father liked him more than you, and hate how he goes through life like it’s his stage and he’s the main character who never dies. 

Right now, Jungkook isn’t like the scrawny kid who used to pick on you for a hobby, second to perfecting his sports – he’s now a twenty-seven-year-old responsible king who had strategically led the movement of winning the impending war. 

But that doesn’t magically erase all the animosity you have towards him. 

You hate that you’re betrothed to him, hate that you knew that even before your father and your mother broke the news to you at the ripe age of 18. Hate that both your kingdoms are to form an alliance to battle the current rise of rebellion from the west. But after you lost your parents from the war that transpired two years ago, it had to be done. 

Jungkook may not be the same old guy who made half your life miserable – but you know that underneath his composure and the respectable manner in which he presents himself with now is nothing but a mere facade. 

Frankly, you do not trust him. You do not trust his plans. You do not support the war and everything that he and his council stands for. 

You don't want to be by his side when you're proven right.

And the last thing you'd want to be in front of Jungkook is weak. 

But a goddamn rock had made you trip on your own way, and you couldn’t help the shriek that escapes your mouth when you drop on the ground. 

“Fuck–” you pull your wounded thigh up, automatically wrapping your hand around the area and squeezing to manage the throbbing pain. “Shit.” You hiss when you see red your trousers, panicking internally. 

“What the hell– is that blood?” Jungkook drops his bladric on the ground and immediately goes to you, eyes widening at the sight of your thigh. “Please tell me it isn’t blood.” 

“Don’t touch me!” You say when Jungkook hovers over your thigh. He recoils, and you know he didn't expect that much hostility – given that you’ve been quiet for the entirety of the trek, and even though you haven’t exactly been welcoming to him for the past month of the expedition you both coincidentally sneaked yourselves into, you’ve been civil. 

Jungkook pulls back, one knee bent on the layer of dirt on the ground, hands surrendering up as if to reassure you he wasn’t going to do something you wouldn’t like. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not.” Jungkook retorts, eyes trailing to the growing spot of blood on the fabric of your trousers. It’s getting more painful by the second –  and you want nothing but to scream about how it fucking stings. “Jesus christ, __, just let me help. That’s a damn big wound you’ve got there.” 

“I’m fine–” you insist, but it’s broken by a sharp intake of breath as another twinge comes up. you wince. “I just need– I just need some fabric. Tie it around the wound.” You manage to say, distressed. Both physically and emotionally. 

“We need to– I need to clean you up,” Jungkook says and maybe it’s your eyes playing jedi games on you but for once, he actually looks genuine to you. As if he actually cares. 

You scoff. “I can do that myself.” 

You don’t expect the way Jungkook snaps. 

“For once, can you stop being stubborn? You can barely breathe properly, __. You can say and think what you want and hate me again after this but just let me take care of you this one time. I’m going to clean your wound and make sure you’re not gonna bleed yourself to death by the time we arrive at the port.” Jungkook looks into your eyes and they feel almost… earnest. Like he wants you to really listen to him. He closes and opens his mouth as if wanting to say something. You wait for it, then for a few seconds it doesn’t come, until... “I’m not out to get you, __.” 

I’m not out to get you. It’s a simple sentence with a simple message. One that you should understand right away. 

But you don't.

You avoid his eyes when you only say, “I don’t trust you.” 

What you don’t expect is his quick answer.

“I know.” 

He crosses the distance between you once again, and you watch as he hesitantly hovers his hand over your thigh again. He looks for your face, silent – but his eyes scream for permission. You don’t give it verbally; too tired to speak, too consumed by the pain in your leg to voice out any more complaints lodged in your throat. 

When Jungkook initially places his hand on your leg, you don’t flinch. And it’s a surprise. Surprise because you expected his touch to burn you like how Icarus did when he flew too close to the sun, but instead it felt like winter night. Cold, but strangely warm. 

When you don’t say anything, he halts.

“Can I?” He asks. Leveled. Waiting. Always waiting. Almost gentle…

You purse your lips when you nod your head. 

Jungkook brings forward his satchel where he takes out a small knife, and there’s nothing but the gentle breeze of the wind and songs of the birds surrounding you at this part of the mountain when Jungkook begins cutting throught the fabric of your pants, effectively revealing the – admittedly – ghastly cut on your bare thigh. 

“Jesus,” Jungkook looks at you, eyebrows creased. “When did you get this? It can’t be from the fall.” 

“I–” you clear your throat and look away, ashamed to be admitting this now. “The horned lizard got me back at jungle.”

Jungkook looks like he wanted to say something but for god knows what, he keeps it to himself.

You watch quietly as he takes out a flask, twisting open the cap and looks at you before pouring over the water on the wound. 

When you hiss in pain, Jungkook immediately stops. 

“Are–” 

“I’m fine– it’s okay,” you assure him, biting your lip, glancing down at your wound. It would be hard to walk further carrying this with you. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook says. You assume it’s for his previous action, but you don’t exactly know how that guaranteed an apology.

You ignore it and he continues tending to the wound, relieved that he’s got some clean scraps of fabric in his bag – a quick aid kit, perhaps – to tap your wound with, and when he asks you to leverage his shoulder for a little bit so he can lift your thigh up a little in order to wrap the fabric around your thigh, your breath hitch at the proximity. 

Even though you and Jungkook are bethroted, you never really shared any moments where you’re required to be as close like this. The banquets are public appearances that only needed you and him to sit beside each other and smile and laugh at the visitors so they think you’re a good pair, but once the doors are closed, one becomes a stranger to another. 

But this… this feels different. It’s… intimate, in a way. 

When you said that his touch didn’t burn, it felt a little more different when you feel his skin touch yours. There’s a little spark to it – fleeting, quick. And you swear he lingers for longer than necessary when he finishes tending to the wound. 

It makes you confused.

“I wish you told me sooner.” Is what Jungkook says when he lets go. 

You pull your hand away from his shoulder. “I didn’t want us to lag behind.” 

“I wouldn’t have mind.” Jungkook says. It’s spoken with so much sincerity that it suddenly triggers a lot of underlying pain – and not just because there’s a big wound on your thigh that’s feeling a little better now – but because Jungkook is acting so different with you. “I’ll try to hunt us something to eat. We’ll stay here for a while so you can rest. Your wound’s pretty fucking big and I’m sure it’s gonne be swollen in a few minutes. Let’s just dry it out for awhile so I can apply the gel all over it, and then we can–” 

“Jungkook,” you cut him off. “Can you stop?” 

He looks at you, rightfully confused. 

You feel mad. Mad at the horned lizard for cutting you. Mad at yourself for letting yourself get cut. Mad at Jungkoook. Mad that he’s being nice. Mad at the situation. Mad at the war. And mad that all of this doesn’t make sense to you. 

��Stop trying to act like you care," You purse your lips and stare into his eyes when you add, “I don’t trust you. Right now I’m putting my guards down and maybe you feel nice enough to not obliterate it but this doesn’t mean you suddenly get to act like you’ve always cared about me. You never did, and I doubt you ever will.” 

Jungkook looks at you. His dark brown orbs have always held something in them – the stars, looks like it, but the stars were beautiful and you didn’t like associating him with beautiful things. 

“You don’t know everything.” Jungkook says, looking away just as he says that. You thought there was more… or maybe you thought there was more so you could retaliate with something – just something – but no words come after it. 

You find yourselves staring blankly ahead at the landscape of nothing but the vast blue skies. 

[whohasthecards]

Hangman meets this Nick-Goose guy at the bar (not a joke)

Jake rested his chin on his cue stick as he stared curiously at the pair at the bar.

The famous Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and some skinny blonde guy were hanging around. He never knew that the Admiral could smile. Sure, the guy was fair and respected all around the base, but he was stoic. He shrugged and went back to his game. 

By the time he sunk the 8-ball in, he looked up and the Admiral was gone. He handed the cue stick  to the next guy about to play and went up to the bar, knocking on the counter.

“Ma’am, a cold beer, please,” He said flashing Penny a smile, she rolled his eyes and handed him his drink.

“Stop calling me, ma’am, I’m not your commanding officer, Lieutenant,” Penny grouched before smiling.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Jake said flashing a wink and Penny rolled her eyes in response.

“Damn, Pen, not checking IDs, you’re getting sloppy or soft,” The mystery man said and Jake turned to get a better look at him.

He blinked before realizing that Roo-Roo Bradshaw was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and a good 30 years younger than the man.

“Shut up, Nick, he’s a grown aviator,” Penny sniped back, hitting the man with a towel as he batted it away.

“Damn straight,” Jake said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ahhh, so you are getting soft, you’ve always been soft around aviators,” Nick said, giving Jake a wink.

Penny blushed and gave Nick another hit with a towel before another customer called her away.

“Piss her off enough and you’ll get thrown overboard, even if I gotta do it alone,” Hangman said, flashing Nick a sharp grin.

Nick gave a low whistle, “Damn, son, no wonder she’s soft on ya, you probably remind her of me and the boys back in the day.”

Jake frowned at that.

“Nevermind that, I’m Nick or Goose, choose what you want,” Nick, Goose, said, reaching out his hand to shake.

“Jake,” He replied, shaking his hand, looking the guy up and down, seeing the grey on his temples. “You used to be an aviator?”

“Old men, can’t be on active duty?”

“The Navy would be too busy worrying about paying for your back pain.”

Goose honked out a laugh that made his callsign make sense.

“I was a backseater, RIO, then after I left I became a civilian flight instructor,” Goose said. “Single-seater?”

“Yep,” Jake said, finally deciding to sit down beside the older man. “Lucky guess?”

It was Jake’s turn to be scrutinized as he was looked up and down, “Nah, I just know the type, do you prefer Jake or Hangman?”

Jake’s lip twitched down before he settled on a blank mask. He used to have no shame regarding his callsign, so who gives a shit if he misspelled a couple words here and there. Until.

“All you do is leave good men hanging! Goddamn executioner of your own squad!”

“Hangman! Smoke in the ai-”

“Lieutenant Jacob “Hangman” Seresin, you did everything you could, dismissed.”

He took a deep breath that was more shaky than he’ll ever admit, “Jake’s good,” he said, flashing a smirk as he took another sip of his drink.

The older man’s eyes softened and he gave Jake a small smile.

“How about you?” Jake asked, realizing it was polite to reciprocate the question.

“Eh, either is fine, they’re both the same to me,” Nick said, shrugging. 

“Doesn’t Goose remind you of the thrill of being in a jet?” Jake asked, swirling his beer bottle around. 

“Nah, reminds me more of hanging around the boys,” Nick replied. “Still see them, but it ain’t the same as it used to be. Plus, I think I’ve had enough excitement for this life,” Nick said chuckling, leaning back and both men wincing as they heard his spine crack.

“You’re showing your age, old man,” Jake muttered, looking at him worriedly, wondering if he was about to keel over. “You hangin’ in there, gramps?”

Nick chuckled, “Not that old, brat, I have a son your age. He’s 27.”

“How old do you think I am?” 

“Hmmm, 21?”

Jake squawked in offense, “You’re actin’ like this my second time drinkin’ or somethin’!”

Nick raised a brow at him, “Is it not?”

Jake glared at him and all Goose saw was the same pout on his son’s face when he withheld the cookies from him.

“ ‘M 23,” Jake muttered.

“See? Not that far off, no need to get your feathers all ruffled, birdy,” Nick said, honking out a laugh.

Jake grumbled, but Goose could see the smile behind the sip of the beer bottle.

—

“Mav, did the Navy bio-engineer you and Ice’s DNA to create a son we don’t know about?” 

Mav paused, looking at his phone to check if this was Goose he was talking to. “Not that I know off,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Kid, tall, blond hair, green eyes, naval aviator, technical flying style with some of your style, has your social skills too,” Goose added the last part thoughtfully. 

“Is that a compliment to the kid or an insult?”

“....Anyways, you made sure you don’t have some kid we don’t know about, right? Because if you gave me a nephew and didn’t make me his godfather I will ground you, no jets for a month.”

“Let me check with Ice.”

—

“Hello my sweet-precious-baby-mini-me,” Goose crowed to the phone as his son groaned on the other line.

“Dad, I am taller and bigger than you.”

“You still get your good looks from me, honey, how’s the deployment going?”

“The other pilots are shitheads, the amount of ego here is astounding.”

“Naval aviators,” Goose said, shrugging before realizing his son can’t see that. “There’s never a shortage of ego, say these pilots are younger than you?”

“Some of them are, some of them are older,” Bradley said slowly, wondering where this conversation was going.

“Good, you’ll have enough practice then.”

“Practice!? Practice for what!? Dad?”

“All good things come to those who wait, Brad-Brad.”

—

Hey gramps, I’m being’ deployed to Top Gun, Hard Deck?

Sure, Jakey

—

Gramps flew with pops? Goose and Maverick ejected. Goose got an honorable discharge. Holy shit.

Bradshaw was Nick’s son?

Is that why he was angry?

—

Hangman was face to face with Bradshaw, anger coursing through his veins. Doesn’t he understand? If they couldn’t fly like Maverick, they would all end up dead. Dead. 

Is he angry because of hop 31? Pissed on behalf of his Dad? But, Nick wasn’t angry at Pete, right?

You can find out.

“Come on, take a walk with me, son.”

No. Nick doesn’t deserve that.

“You have a family Bradshaw,” Jake said slowly, watching as Bradshaw’s hackles raised up even higher.

“Yeah, kid is simultaneously too hesitant and reckless at the same time, and I thought my wingman is the reason I’m gray…”

“You’re almost 60 gramps, that’s the reason why you’re gray.”

“Don’t let them lose you because you can’t think straight. Feelings ain’t matter here, not if you want to live,” Jake gritted out, shoulder checking the other man as he left the room.

—

They’re alive.

He saved them.

Thank fucking god because in all the hours he spent on stand-by in his jet, he still didn’t know what the fuck to say to Nick if he came back, but his brother and son didn’t.

A selfish part of him wondered if Nick would still care if they both died.

Probably not. Thank god he wasn’t a complete fuck up.

—

The celebration died down and he was walking back from his long-ass debrief. Getting reamed for launching without orders.

He felt his phone ping with a text.

Come over for dinner when you’re onshore.

Jake gave a small smile at that as he sent back a reply.

—

“Hangman! Hangman! Lieutenant Seresin! Jake!” 

It was the inverted version of Mav calling out for Rooster during that first day in the tarmac. Except Jake was already turning around once Mav said Lieutenant.

“Jesus, Mav, calm down, I hear ya, I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet, pops,” Jake said, raising his hands up as he flicked his toothpick to the side of his mouth. “Don’t stretch your legs too far tryin’ to keep up with me,'' Jake said, smirking.

Mav rolled his eyes upwards as he put his hands on his hips, as if asking god for patience. Heh. 

“I wasn’t able to talk to you one-on-one after the mission, kid, how are you?” Mav said, eyes softening as he looked at Jake up and down.

Jake felt self-conscious, as he straightened up instinctively, which was dumb because surely Mav wouldn’t notice that he was eating less. That he felt more tired each day. That he doesn’t know what kind of man he is.

“I’m fine, Mav, just thinking,” is all Jake could say.

“Don’t think too hard, kid, you might hurt yourself,” Mav said, giving Jake a smile, but there’s a glint in his eye that told him he meant it.

Mav’s an ace.

“Do you think about it, often?” Jake blurted out.

Mav furrowed his brow, “Think about what?”

Killing people.

No, not now.

“Nothing, nothing, sorry, pops, long day, just thinkin’ about how much the big bosses lectures on and on and on,” Hangman said, cringing at the babbling he just did.

Mav frowned, looking unconvinced, but gave a grin when command’s lectures were brought up, “I just learned to tune it out and forget. After you hear the first one, it all sounds the same, anyways.”

Jake barked a laugh at that, “You’re a menace, Mav.”

Mav grinned at Jake’s laugh, shoulders relaxing as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“Anyways, I’m here to ask if you’re free tonight? My family and I are having dinner together and I want you to join in,” Mav said. “Some of the other Daggers will be there.”

He felt a pang of regret when he realized he’d have to decline, and it must have shown on his face, when Mav gave an understanding smile.

“Have plans, already, huh?”

“Yeah, a,” grandpa, family, mentor, father-figure-, “friend invited me for dinner, I haven’t seen him in a while, and yeah. I wanna hang out with ya pops and the squad, cross my heart, it’s just that I already got plans, and-”

Mav cut him off with a chuckle, “I get it, kid, don’t work yourself up, there will always be next time. Just promise me I won’t have to bail you out of jail tonight and you have fun.”

Jail with Nick? What a joke.

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” Jake said, giving Mav a salute, smirking as Mav shooed him away.

“Yeah, yeah, go on, brat, don’t cause trouble, you hear me!?”

“As if you can talk.”

—

Jake took a deep breath as he turned off the ignition of his truck, grabbing the beers he brought. He ain’t gonna come to a dinner empty handed, and Nick was more of a beer guy, rather than a wine guy.

He went up to the door and knocked.

“Hangman?”

“Mav?” Jake said, blinking his eyes in shock.

“Jakey! You made it, kiddo,” Nick greeted warmly, gently pushing Mav away to envelop Jake in a tight hug. Jake closed his eyes and leaned in, burying his eyes on the older man’s shoulder, trying to reciprocate the hug despite his hands being full.

“Here, let me take that from you, buddy, and you two can catch up for a little bit,” Mav said when Jake pulled away from the hug, taking the beer from his hands.

“It’s okay, pops–”

“How come Mav gets pops, but you call me gramps?” Nick said, pouting as he slung an arm around Jake’s shoulder.

“Because,” Jake said dumbly, still a bit shock at seeing Mav.

“Ahh forgot to tell ya I invited my former wingman, Mav and of course you’ve heard of my son, Brad-Brad,” Nick said leading Jake to the kitchen. “Some other guys will be coming, later, some of them are part of Mav’s squad.”

“We’re well-acquainted Goose, heck, the kid even told me he couldn’t come to hangout with us because he had plans with a friend,” Mav said grinning at the two of them.

“Awwww, so you do see me as a friend, huh, Jakey?” Goose cooed, ruffling Jake’s hair as Jake pushed him away.

“I didn’t know you were invitin’ me to the thing I was already invited to!” Jake protested, blushing.

“Hey Dad, where’s the— holy shit, Hangman, you came?” Bradshaw Jr. said, walking into the kitchen. “Mav said you said no, did something happen?” Rooster asked, furrowing his brow.

Jake finally had a side by side view of the two Bradshaw’s. Definitely related. Should have figured that out years ago. 

“Ohhh good that you’re here Brad, here’s the baby brother I promised you years ago,” Nick said, steering Jake by the shoulders to push him towards Bradley. “You’ll love him, play nice, okay?”

“That is a pain in my ass, grown-ass man,” Bradley said, blinking slowly as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. “How the hell did you two even meet?”

“Oh, I found him in a bar acting like a mixture of Mav and Ice and I just gotta keep him,” Nick said casually.

“Baby brother-?”

“Congratulations, you’re adopted, kid,” Mav said, taking a sip of his beer. “Wait til Ice sees you.”

“Ice?”

“Iceman,” Nick said. “Tom-Tom, Tommy, Tomcat, you will probably be calling him gramps.”

“I am not calling the COMPACFLT, gramps,” Jake said, jaw-dropping.

“No, you will be calling my brother, gramps, Jakey, plus they already expect it, they have heard many stories about you.”

“You talk about me to the Iceman!?” Jake said, his pitch rising an octave.

“And me, and everyone else, I was wondering why I haven’t heard about this aviator kid Goose here was talking about, started thinking he adopted an air force kid or something,” Mav said grinning. “He only really called you Jakey.”

“Or Jake-Jake, Jay, Baby J –” Bradley started, smirking at a flushing Jake.

“THAT’s enough,” Jake said, pushing at Bradley to cut him off, but Bradley just laughed.

“Boys enough. Bradley, stop teasing your brother. Jakey, no pushing,” Goose said wagging a finger at them.

“Yeah, yeah, dad,” Bradley said, rolling his eyes.

“Also, we need to make a custody contract, Goose, I want partial custody of these two,” Mav said looking way too serious as he pulled out a pen and a piece of paper.

“We need to wait for the other boys to show up first, I have a feeling Cyclone or Iceman would be calling dibs,” Goose said grinning.

“What?” Jake said, confused.

“It means, you’re stuck with us now, Jake-Jake,” Bradley said, ruffling the blond’s hair.

—

“You named your kid, Bradley Bradshaw?”

“I wanted a little Brad-Brad.”

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Did you ever manage to wrap your head around Stan's position in the military? Because I'm getting a lot of mixed signals aha. Also, just love all of your dr stone posts, they fuel me :)

Yeah, my head is settled on: The author has absolutely no fuckin' clue how the US military works and aggressively did not care. Which is fine, really, because it's a fairly minor point in the series and there's lots of other stuff to care about (although I would also like to lodge a complaint about how Senku is apparently the president of the science club as a freshie, but again, the timelines of stuff happening here wildly makes no sense and they really should not have even tried).

But as an American, oh my God.

If we cared about realism, he would be in the Marines based on his dress uniform and frankly also based on the weird variety of skills he has because the Marines do and always have occupied a very weird place in the US military in which they are expected to be kind of a jack of all trades and they tend to have much higher standards and much smaller forces than the other branches.

And if he's a special ops Marine, then he would be a Marine Raider in MARSOC, and if he's a commander of a MARSOC squad, he would have to be a Captain, which is a commissioned officer rank which pretty much universally requires a 4-year college degree. He could theoretically be a higher rank but at his age that's already pushing into nonsense and also unlikely for him to be boots on the ground anymore, and he clearly is.

According to the fanbook, he enlisted in the Air Force (???????????????? THEN WHY IS HE WEARING---DRESS UNIFORMS ARE NOT INTERCHANGEABLE????) at 18, was selected for the "special forces" at 19 (that is not how anything works holy shit, getting any of the special forces in any of the US branches is really rigorous and difficult and requires a lot of training) and promoted as the youngest commander in history (yeah for fucking sure) of a special ops team at 21.

This is just not how anything works. If he's a commissioned officer, he would still be in college. Also I think the author might think the US has just one generic special forces squad from all the branches, when in fact each has their own. The Navy SEALs are not the Marine Raiders are not the Army Green Berets are not the Air Commandos.

*yells into a void about this*

So anyway, if we want to align this to realism, he's a Captain of a Marine Raider team.

If we want to not do that, he's...a commander of special forces after being promoted out of the Air Force because...he was...good with a gun, I guess, and now he gets to wear the Marine uniform???

*rubs temples*

I like the first. Because at some point I am just going to have to ignore the fact that canon doesn't make any sense after acknowledging that's what it is.

It is possible that the author/artist just associated "Marines" with "US Special Forces" because until the last couple decades they were sort of treated that way, because of, again, the weird place they hold in the US Military generally, to the point where my grandfather insisted all Marines were special forces (he was a Marine, go figure).

But that hasn't been true for a while and the Marine Raiders were formed well before Stan could have ever joined the military.

Okay, I think that...probably answers your question? I can talk about this for a while because I spent a long time looking this stuff up. Like probably 20-40 hours. Because Stan is a pretty gay anime boy with an 8 pack whom I latched onto and thus this happened.

Also I want him to be a Marine Raider because the Marine motto is "Semper Fidelis" or "Always Faithful" and the Marine Special Ops motto specifically is "Spiritus Invictus" or "Unconquerable Spirit" and I suspect that wasn't on purpose for the reasons listed above, but goddamn does that fit him perfectly.

Also the Raider creed fits him super perfectly if you sub country in there for Xeno.

Anyway, feel free to ask more questions about Stuff.

[judasgot-it]

literally I’ve been checking your profile every day cause I really love your work :c hope you’re doing alright ^^

could i request headcanons of make out sessions with tecchou?

i haven't done headcannons in a while, also I got this ask almost a year ago but if you're still checking this account I am somehow still alive! The Tecchou brainrot is still going strong amen

Headcannons: How he kisses you + when its sloppy style (slight nsfw warning)

Tecchou's kisses are between the best thing either or a nuisance - he has impeccable timing though, that's for sure.

Kisses you while you have your hands full, or kisses you while you are absolutely disgusting - he doesn't care sometimes, he just wants a smooch

Once he kissed you while you were covered head to toe in dirt and grime from a mission. Full on open mouth kissed you despite how much you needed a shower. He really just doesn't care sometimes

Will always try to greet you with a small kiss on the cheek or a peck on the lips.

Please kiss him back it has him weak in the knees.

Pulling him in by his belt is one of his favorite things

Usually has a hand on you somewhere whenever he kisses you

It's casual, but he has a tendency to let it wander whenever he thinks you're both alone

Definitely is shoving it up your shirt or is grabbing your ass - if you're alone can you really blame him?

If there's a big height difference he's def guiding you around, cause dude does not want to end up with neck and back pain

Will straight up hold you in his arms so he doesn't have to bend over; if he's kissing you longer than 10 seconds, he's just holding you

Manhandles you a little bit. He's a gentleman but like dude is strong as hell, he probably does it without thinking

Has caused you a few minor bruises because of this. He is deeply apologetic each time

Somehow always loses his shirt(?)

Sticks between being conservative and sloppy with his kisses, really depends

When he's really in the mood, man has no problem trying to shove his tongue down your throat

He will make you taste what he had to eat that day, even if it means holding you down on his desk and making you lick it off of him

Every day it's something different, it's fun to guess at this point

I think he's the sloppy kind of guy, like afterward you'll feel like you were drooled on

Pray he didn't eat anything spicy cause he probably is leaving that taste everywhere...

Isn't the noisy type of guy, although I think he asks a lot of questions - he wants to know if you're okay and he can't really read your mind

Puts you two in some weird ass yoga positions - Tecchou is the nerd who's into couples yoga but like in an extreme way

Like you're making out in a hallway and bro is doing the splits for no goddamn reason

Bro will be the guy to do pushups on top of his partner willingly because he needs to get that workout in throughout his day

once you told him to say your name during them, and he didn't realize until push-up 21 why your face was so red

might have been the only time he stuttered in front of you

kisses between each pushup, does not break his streak, however - he needs to get his workout done so you're going to have to deal with it

Quality time (i guess?)

Either completely silent or says some corny shit like 'I love you' and compliments you. No in-between with him

Idk how good these are, sex is literally the funniest thing to me like i cannot take that shit seriously

[whatisamildopinion]

thinking about Aasimar au warlock Kristen again (wow what a series of words lmao) so have some more silly thoughts about it:

- when Kristen first multiclasses Fig says "don't worry, I got you, I know a lady" and drags them both to see Zara. Zara looks at these two (Kristen, literally about to vibrate out of existence with excitement and happiness, Riz, looking like he's five seconds away from hyperventilating to death) and is like "oh this one's gonna be interesting"

- Zara Sool takes one look at this poor rogue-paladin-patron who looks like he's gonna have a mental breakdown, but deep in his heart trusts Kristen enough to dedicate his love and his time and his magic and his oath and his goddamn soul to this girl (warlock relationships are about exchange, after all, even if he doesn't know that yet. Kristen isn't the only one who's handed away her soul to safer hands with this) and says ">:) I'm gonna trick this boy into talking about his feelings." the following conversation goes pretty much like this:

Zara: look it's really safer for Kristen herself if you tell her what's going on with yourself emotionally, otherwise you might make a faulty contract, which will put her soul in danger.

passive investigation of 21 Riz: >:((( you're trying to guilt trip me

Zara: yeah, is it working????

Riz: ..............maybe

- following Zara's intervention, Riz and Kristen sit down and have a real conversation about their fears and their struggles and the things they want from their lives. Riz admits that he's scared that none of them will stay together after high school and that's why he's pushing so hard to keep them together. Kristen tells him that, yeah, she can't guarantee what will happen after high school, but that they're all prepared to work to keep their friendships, and that she in particular is gonna make sure she's always always friends with him. Kristen talks about the specific things she's been struggling with between school and her religion and they make a plan to help her and also actually talk to Jawbone and Sandra Lynn because Jesus this girl needs help. so after this conversation they make the most detailed fucking contract that has ever been (Riz's anxiety goes crazy) and they show up back to warlock class like "is this good?" and present Zara with an absolute mess of a document that is overflowing with footnotes and sticky notes and annotations and is written in this unholy mess of common-goblin-celestial-rogue cipher, but she kinda quizzes them on it, and lo and behold, they have it fucking memorized

- Riz is still pretty worried so Zara fully enlists her paramour to come down and talk him into being a little bit calmer. Zara and her paramour think this is the cutest thing ever.

- Zara tells Riz he can audit warlock class if he's still nervous about it but he's like "fuck no, if I'm taking a class I am damn well gonna get credit for it" and gets his mcat signed to do three classes. Fig-Kristen-Riz are the terrors of the warlock class but also the best students Zara has ever had. everyone both loves and hates them in there (but mostly loves. they're just too cool)

-after The Conversation, Kristen drags Riz to have another Conversation with the rest of the bad kids, and they echo all her sentiments about staying friends even if they go their separate ways after high school (except Adaine and Riz, who nail down that at least they are gonna go to college together). so even though it feels super unnatural, Riz kind of takes a breath like a whole half a year early. he stops pushing them so hard to perform academically, but the rest of them finally understand why he was doing that, and also understand the consequences of the party failing a little more. so they're all just trying their best, but more organically

- Kristen is technically borrowing from Riz's well of power, and he's not like, a full angel or anything (yet) but magic is a muscle. the more you use it, the stronger it gets. and again, warlock relationships are about exchange. so what happens is that as soon as Kristen starts using her warlock magic routinely, Riz finds that his smites are getting more powerful??? his radiant soul damage is increasing???? he suddenly has access to spell slots he shouldn't??? turns out, power borrowed is power returned, and while his power base is incredible, Kristen is a much more accomplished spellcaster than he is, so she exercises his magic more effectively than he does, and he starts getting more powerful as she gets more comfortable in her powers

-Riz can feel whenever Kristen is using her warlock powers. sometimes she'll start eldritch blasting shit for fun along with fig and five minutes later her crystal will start blowing up like "kristen what are your doing that requires eldritch blast every ten seconds" and then she has to admit that she and fig were seeing who could eldritch blast tin cans off the roof of mordred better

-Riz's wings kind of start to, for lack of a better word, calcify? like, they're still intangible, but they start sticking around even when he's not in radiant soul form. just two ghostly, intangible wings always hanging out, and they only start to really glow when he actually turns on Radiant Soul. he has a flying speed now. he's also frantically researching whether or not its possible for aasimar to start organically rising to angelhood because THIS ISN'T NORMAL, KRISTEN STOP TRYING TO GRAB THEM! (everyone else is so enamoured with his wings. he starts using them like his tail to wrap around people and even though they're intangible everyone swears up and down that they feel cooler and calmer and safer when wrapped up in a Riz wing)

-Kristen and Riz start to more or less have the same magical signature because they're sharing so much power. a side effect of this is that if Kristen is in the room, and Riz is stealthing, even casting something like Detect Evil and Good won't give him away, because his aura is so much like Kristen's and vice versa. they abuse this relentlessly to get Clues. kristen is team distraction and riz is team extraction

-at some point Adaine approaches the two of them like "hey all this stuff that's happening is totally fascinating, can I write a research paper about it?"

"sure," says Riz, "but only if you list us as co-contributors for college credit and stuff"

"well, duh," responds Adaine, and the three of them proceed to make the most detailed paper the world has ever seen about the magical and physical effects of a patron-warlock relationship between two mortals. it comes out sometime in their senior year and the magical research community loses their shit

-Kristen gets up to second level warlock in junior year, and her eldritch invocations are Eldritch Mind and Eyes of the Rune Keeper. the first time she realizes she can just read every single language her friends speak she cries. also she's sooooo scary now. she can hold two concentrations at once AND has advantage on concentration checks. terrifying.

-soooo many prospective warlock students start approaching riz and fig for warlock powers. they didn't know you could just ask normal students!!! (riz and fig are not normal students but that is beside the point.) fig thinks it is amusing. riz thinks it is stressful. kristen thinks it is fucking stupid, like, it's not like he's gonna share, no, I'm not jealous, what are you talking about? at one point it gets so frustrating for riz that he gets up on a table in the middle of the lunch period and shouts "blanket statement for everyone who is not in my party, NO I WILL NOT BE YOUR PATRON, STOP ASKING!!!" the bad kids think it's the funniest thing, but they're also being hella protective of riz and fig. everyone stop BOTHERING them, no they're NOT interested in being your patron!! the number of physical fights that they've all gotten in because of this, in order of least to most, is riz (2, on behalf of fig), kristen (3, on behalf of riz), fig (5, on behalf of riz), fabian (7, on behalf of both), gorgug (8, on behalf of both), and adaine (14, on behalf of both). after about a month everyone has mostly taken the hint

-kristen develops a terrible habit of just. hexing anyone who even remotely annoys her. you were breathing too obnoxiously in class today? blocked hexed. you said something mildly shitty about one of her friends? hexed. aelwyn took the last bagel at breakfast and she really wanted it? hexed. she's experiencing the newfound freedom of being a hater. riz is texting her like "kristen why are you hexing someone at nine in the morning" and she's like "I am experiencing little sister rage for the first time in my life, leave me alone"

-Buddy Dawn does not know what the fuck to make of Kristen's warlock multiclass. she makes him fully bluescreen. Bobby Dawn and Kipperlilly, on the other hand, are absolutely incandescent with rage. they're gonna die mad about it.

-on the other end of the spectrum, Kristen and Riz break Bucky's brain open. he speedruns the emotional crisis that Kristen had freshman year when he Divine Senses their magical connection and nearly cries because he can feel this absolutely overwhelming love. he never knew anyone else could love kristen than fiercely. nothing that full of love could ever be bad

-ooouuuuuugggghhhhh there comes a terrible scene between riz and cassandra where she is like "she believes in you more than me" and riz has to be like "maybe. but that doesn't mean she doesn't believe in you. kristen has enough faith to go around. and so do I. I'm still counting on you too." it's about sharing the most important person in your life. self-recognition through the other (bittersweet). "I see why she loves you so much" says cassandra, and for the first time riz doesn't sort of still feel the nightmare king beneath her, and for the first time she feels him as someone to exist alongside without competing with. and riz, who is kind of sort of maybe ascending to angelhood, is not really becoming an angel of cassandra's pantheon, but he's also not not becoming that

-just. augh. kristen and riz are literally so sickeningly happy as patron and warlock. absolutely attached at the hip. best friends of all time. saint kristen applebees and her own personal guardian angel. they make me ill

anyway that is all, thank you for coming to my TED talk

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 22: Storm

A spring snowstorm hits Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-21 found on Tumblr here.

PLEASE PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE CONTENT WARNINGS, THIS IS A ROUGH CHAPTER!!!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Past sexual assault vaguely described; animal death; PTSD response; sexual assault of a minor mentioned in a vulgar way (not seen); possible child death. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 8.6k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Early May, 2013 

You were outside when the woman rode up. 

Your home was well hidden and you’d only seen five people since Mark had left almost a year earlier, each of them making their way into your land and telling you that he’d sent them your way. They were all kind, they were all vulnerable and they were all loaded down with things you would need. Flashlight batteries and bulbs, sugar and salt, rubbing alcohol and petroleum jelly. Thread, fabric, pain killers, antibiotics, guitar strings. One woman had been sent with a snack sized bag of Lays that were still sealed and a bottle of whiskey. That had made you smile, the clearest sign that Mark hadn’t forgotten about you. 

All of the others had arrived on foot, seemingly with a good idea of where to go, mostly alone but two women has traveled together. The timing wasn’t predictable but you at least knew what you could expect when someone Mark sent your way came into your territory.

This woman was different. 

You heard her before you saw her, the thundering footfalls and heavy breathing of her horse loud against the quiet of the forest. You didn’t have time to fortify your position, didn’t even have time to go get more ammo. So you stood your ground and raised your rifle, heart pounding, when she burst through the tree line and into the clearing that you called home. 

“Back the fuck up!” You yelled, gun raised. The horse all but skidded to a stop, the woman on its back clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest with one hand, yanking back on the reins with the other.  

“Easy!” She said dropping the reins and putting her hand up. She still clung to the bundle. You recognized the horse. It was Perseus, it was Mark’s horse. “Are you Texas?” 

“Who’s askin’?” Your accent was thick, fear a knot in your stomach as you looked Perseus over. You didn’t see any signs of injury.

She kept her hand up. 

“You knew Mark?” She asked. She had an accent, too. Georgia southern, like Mark. “Brown hair, criminally long eyelashes?” 

You narrowed your eyes at her and tightened your grip on your weapon. 

“He knew you,” she kept going. “He… he told me all about you. Doubt he ever mentioned me but… he talked about you all the time. He loved you and I think you loved him, too.” 

You swallowed past the growing lump in your throat and tightness in your chest. She kept using past tense. 

“What about him?” You asked, keeping your gun raised but your grip loosened. 

“He sent me to find you. We need your help,” she said, reaching and tugging her pant leg up just enough to reveal a festering bite mark on her ankle. “And I don’t have much time.” 

***

Early April, 2027

“I can’t believe you’ve been calling her a fucking baby deer this whole goddamn time!” 

Ellie was perched on Shimmer’s stall door, watching as you and Joel set out blankets for the horses. It has been snowing all day and winds were picking up. You were worried a blizzard was moving in and you wanted help getting the horses set to ride out the storm if you couldn’t get to them for a day or two. 

Joel was happy to assist, especially since he had come back from patrol a week earlier with a copy of Bambi on VHS. Ellie hadn’t been able to calm down about it since and it reminded him of the giddiness she had when she started in on the puns the first time, almost four years ago now. He’d have done anything to get that back and, it turned out, all it took was an old Disney movie and a funny nickname.  

“Thank you,” you laughed, almost smug. “Don’t talk for a few minutes and get saddled with the name of a cartoon deer for life…” 

“Hey, needed somethin’ to call you and you try coming up with anything else after lookin’ at you with those big eyes,” Joel said, defensive but smiling. “Not my fault it stuck.” 

“Yeah well Bambi here was gonna kick your ass the first time we met,” she replied. “Big bad contractor was gonna get beat up by a fucking cartoon deer from a kid’s movie…”

Joel tried to keep from laughing and raised his eyebrows at you. 

“OK that’s an exaggeration,” you said. “All I was going to do…” 

“I asked if you were going to try to kick his ass,” Ellie cut you off. “And you said ‘no try about it, I was gonna kick his ass.’” 

“And what did I do to deserve that?” Joel asked, teasing. 

“Well, Ellie tried to warn me about you…” You began, but Ellie cut you off. 

“Should have listened….” 

You glared at her. 

“But she wasn’t very clear,” you said. “And if some grown man was messing around with a girl, I was going to kick his ass. Turns out I didn’t have a reason to.” 

Joel laughed. 

“Glad you spared me.” 

You laughed before planting your hands on your hips, looking around the stable for a moment, taking stock. 

“Think things are just about as good as they’re gonna get,” you sighed. “But I think they should be good for a day until we can dig out and get back over here. Just wait for them to finish dinner, put more feed in after…” 

“Think there’s any chance of the patrols making it back tonight?” Ellie asked, her eyebrows drawn together. 

“Probably not,” Joel said. “They got places to ride out shit like storms if they get stuck, they’ll be alright.” 

“Still,” you said. “Had a group that was due back tonight, Jackson was probably the closest point to ride it out. Think I’ll hang out for a bit yet…” 

“I’ll go get us something to eat,” Joel said. “We’ll wait with you, head home after, settle in to ride out the storm.” 

“Can we stay at Bambi’s?” Ellie asked. “She’s got a way better stereo.” 

You smiled. 

“Sure, kid,” you said. “On you to get Joel to dance party, though.” 

“Dance party?” He frowned. 

“You wouldn’t get it, Old Man,” she replied, the hint of a smirk on her face. 

“Don’t get a lot of things about you, Baby Girl,” he said before stretching his back a bit. “Alright, back in a few. Try not to find too much trouble while I’m gone.” 

You and Ellie both rolled your eyes and he couldn’t help but smile as he made his way through the few inches of snow that had already fallen, heading for the mess hall. 

One of Joel’s favorite parts of being back on good terms with Ellie was getting to see your relationship with her. Even before she was mad at him, he wanted her to have someone like you in her life. Another woman she could talk to, look up to, guide her in ways he didn’t fully understand. She needed that and he hadn’t been able to see it happening from the distance she was holding him at before. 

He knew the two of you were close, he just hadn’t realized how close until the last few months. The two of you felt more like family than Sarah’s mother ever had and he treasured it, treasured that you seemed to love his daughter almost as much as he did. 

The mess hall was getting ready for a storm, too, putting together baskets of food to send home with Jackson residents so people wouldn’t be struggling through the storm for their meals over the next few days. He gathered enough to last the three of you for a bit plus some sandwiches for tonight before he started back toward the stables, the wind more forceful and biting than when he’d left just half an hour earlier. 

As he got closer, he noticed tracks in the snow, hoof prints leading to the stables. A patrol had made it back and, for half a moment, he was a little disappointed. If the storm wasn’t as bad as they were expecting and the patrol was able to make it back to Jackson without losing much time, he might not get to spend the day with you and Ellie tomorrow. Ever since the storm started moving in that afternoon he’d been excited for the chance to have some unexpected time just the three of you - almost like playing hooky but with permission. 

But he knew he should just be happy the patrol made it home through the weather, hopefully with all the people intact. Which, he was. But damn if he didn’t love an excuse to spend time with you. 

He opened the door to the stable and quickly moved shut it behind him, expecting to find you taking saddles off horses. Instead, you damn near slammed into him, your eyes wide, not saying a word as you shoved the door open and took off into the snow. 

“Bambi?” He called after you. You didn’t even slow down. He jogged over to Ellie’s perch and set the food down, a tightness starting to grip his chest. 

“No idea,” Ellie said, not waiting for him to ask. “Patrol came back, said something about some people they found outside… She just said ‘savvy’ and took the fuck off.” 

Joel looked around for a second. Julie was standing next to her horse, a confused look on her face. 

“You found people outside?” Joel asked. 

“Yeah,” she said, still staring at where you’d run out. “Yeah, a group of five. We brought them back…” 

“Where are they?” He asked, fighting to keep his voice calm. 

“The clinic…” 

“Ellie,” he said quickly. “Stay put here, alright? I’m gone more than half an hour, head on home. Mine or hers, don’t want you in that little place for this storm, OK Baby Girl?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, not giving him shit. She looked concerned, too. “Yeah, OK.” 

He gave her a stiff nod and went out into the building storm, following your footprints to the clinic. 

Joel heard you there before he saw you, your voice pleading and desperate as he shut the wind and snow outside. 

“Anything,” you were begging. “Anything at all, a name, an age, hair color, anything, please…” 

“I’m sorry,” a man whose voice Joel didn’t recognize said. “She did say much before she died, just that there was a girl…” 

Joel found you then, in the same room he’d been in when he’d come in from patrol with a bullet in his leg. 

“Where?” You asked. “Where’d you find her? Did she say where she escaped from, how far she’d come?” 

“We picked them up about 15 miles north east of here,” Fred, one of the men on patrol, said. “Just south of Kelly.” 

“Think she came from a camp ground near there,” the other man said. He was skinny, a patch of frostbite on his nose. “Said something about cabins…” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Right, thank you.” 

You turned and ran smack into Joel’s chest. You barely seemed to register it, hardly even glancing at him before ducking around him and running out the door again. 

“She was asking about a girl,” Fred said quickly. “These folks here, had a woman with them before we found them. Said she escaped raiders, that the raiders had a teenaged girl…” 

“Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath before looking at the other man. “Thanks, Fred.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, just ducking back into the snow, the wind starting to howl now, running to catch up with you. 

You were on your porch by the time he reached you. You didn’t even seem to be aware that he was following you, you were too focused on something else entirely. You didn’t even bother to take your boots off when you got in the house, just ripping the coat closet inside your door open and pulling out your patrol materials as Joel let himself in. 

“Bambi,” he said gently. You looked up at him for a moment, like you were surprised to find him there before you focused back on your pack, shoving in blankets and flashlights. “Come on, honey…” 

“They’ve got her, Joel,” you said, barely glancing at him before you grabbed your bag and half walked, half ran to your kitchen. “Can’t just leave her out there with them, I…” 

“There’s a snowstorm, Sweetheart,” he said gently, trying to keep his voice calm. “It’s not safe…” 

“Doesn’t matter,” you started stuffing food in your bag, no rhyme or reason to it that Joel could see. 

“Yes, it does,” he said, trying to take the pack from you. You yanked it back, a vicious look in your eyes before you ducked around him. “Baby.” 

“I’m not leaving her to those… those…” your voice cracked. “Those fucking monsters, I’m not, I can’t just leave her, I can’t just abandon her, I…” 

“You getting yourself killed won’t help anybody.” It was getting harder and harder to keep the panic from his voice. He’d never seen you quite like this. Close to it when out on patrol and there were signs that raiders were near, signs of their violence, but he’d always been able to pull you back from the edge. He wasn’t sure he could this time. “Bambi, you can’t…” 

“Yes, I can.” 

You moved around him and he followed. 

“I know you want to help people,” he said. “But you can’t help anyone if you get yourself killed. I know you want to save everyone from going through what you went through…” 

“That’s not what this is,” you said, turning in circles like you were looking for something but you couldn’t place it. 

“Then what is it?” He caught you by the shoulders and looked at you, your eyes wide and panicky. “Tell me, help me understand. When the weather clears, I can go with you and…” 

“It’ll be too late then,” you shook your head, tears starting to swell. “As soon as the snow stops they’re going to leave and it’ll be too late, I’ll never catch them and they’ll still have her and I can’t lose her again, Joel, I can’t, I can’t take it, I can’t do this again, please, don’t ask me to do this again I…” 

“Do what?” He asked, pleading, his grip on you firm. “Let me help you, Baby, please, tell me what’s going on. Who…” 

“My daughter!” You said quickly. Joel froze, his heart pounding against his ribs. “I have a daughter, I have a daughter and if it’s her I… I can’t lose her again, I can’t. I have to go get her…” 

“You…” he breathed. 

“My daughter,” you said, eyes wide. “Please, Joel. I think they have my daughter.” 

*** 

Early May, 2013

You lowered your rifle enough that it was no longer an immediate threat and she relaxed a little, letting the pant leg fall over her ankle again. There was a small cry from the bundle in her arms and you frowned, looking between her and it. She carefully lowered it from her chest, looking down to it. 

“Hey, you’re OK sweet girl,” she said gently. “It’s alright…” 

The bundle fussed but didn’t cry again and she looked back to you. 

“Can I get down?” She asked. “Got a lot to talk about and not a lot of time to do it. Figure I’ve got an hour left. Two, tops.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “Yeah, OK. Let’s talk.” 

You didn’t invite her in, not wanting to deal with the potential hazard of her turning into one of those inhuman things in your house. She didn’t seem to mind. 

Her name, she said, was Laurel. She was about your age, you guessed, with her dark hair in two thick braids, deep brown eyes and rich umber skin. 

“This is Savannah,” she said, tilting the bundle so you could see inside. “She’s nine months old…” 

You looked at her, awed for a moment. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a baby and you resisted the urge to reach out and run your finger over her chubby, impossibly soft looking cheek. She blinked at you, her brown eyes oddly keen and exacting for a baby, her lashes almost obscenely long. You frowned, leaning in to look closer at her. You knew those impossibly soft, brown eyes set in her lovely russet-hued face. 

“She’s Mark’s,” you said softly, looking up at Laurel. “She’s Mark’s, isn’t she?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, she is.” 

“I…” your voice broke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he had someone, I wouldn’t have…” 

“It wasn’t like that,” she cut you off. “My husband died about three years ago. He got hurt, it got infected… Not even the fucking apocalypse kind, just the kind that you can clear up with penicillin if you can find the damn stuff. Mark… we were both lonely, looking for something to make it better for a while. It just kind of happened. She just kind of happened.” 

The baby cooed, stretching and reaching for you. 

“Where is he?” You asked, looking back at Laurel. “What happened to him?” 

“Our settlement got overrun,” she said, her voice suddenly thick. “They came out of nowhere and just… He tried. He tried so, so hard, you should know that he tried. But he got bit, on the neck, trying to protect us and… He told me where to find you. That’s what he did with the last few minutes of his life, he told me where to find you, he told me that you’d take care of us, make sure we survived. He told me to tell you that he loved you and that he wanted to come back to you…” 

You found yourself nodding, tears on your cheeks as you looked into the eyes of the man you loved in his child’s face. 

“He died before I got bit,” she said. “He died thinking we had a shot. I kept her safe, though. She was safe…” 

“You did good,” you said, throat tight. “You really did…” 

“I need your help,” she said before taking a deep breath. 

“Course,” you nodded, tearing your eyes away from Mark’s daughter to look at her. “What…” 

“I need you to take Savannah.” 

You just blinked at her for a moment. “I…” you broke off, shaking your head. “What? I… no, no, I’m not who you want, I don’t…” 

“I don’t have a lot of options,” she said. “I don’t have time to find another person let alone someone I know I can trust. And I know I can trust you with her. Mark loved you and you loved him, you won’t let anything happen to his child.” 

“But I…” you looked back at the baby in her arms. “I don’t know anything about kids, I wouldn’t even know where to start, I don’t…” 

“Please,” she said, her voice breaking. “He wanted you to take care of her. I think… I think part of him knew it would just be her. That’s why he sent me here, to you. He wanted it to be you. He trusted you and he loved you, he wanted her to be with you. Please, I’ll beg if I have to, just please take care of her. Please.” 

You looked at the baby in her arms, at Mark’s eyes with the impossibly long lashes. 

“OK.” 

Laurel held her daughter while she told you everything. You paused her to take some notes when you thought of it, things like a recipe for formula when she refused solids and what to do when she started crying but wouldn’t stop. She told you how much her daughter loved to gnaw on bits of apple and loved to bounce in time to her father’s humming and her birthday - July 20. 

She started twitching more in what felt like no time at all, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She pressed her lips to her daughter’s forehead. 

“You’ll be OK sweet girl,” she whispered to her. “You’ll be OK. Mama loves you, OK? Try to remember that for me, OK?” She looked up at you. “Will… will you tell her about me? About Mark?” 

You nodded, the pinch of tears tight in your throat. 

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll make sure she knows everything you did for her. She’ll know about you.” 

She nodded, passing you her child. Your child. 

“I’d like to do it myself,” she said, nodding to the gun at your hip. “If that’s OK.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, adjusting Savannah in your arms and handing Laurel the gun. She took it and walked backwards away from you, her eyes on her daughter. Your daughter. 

“I’ll close my eyes just before,” she said once she was about 20 feet away, still looking at her baby. “Can you cover hers for me? I want to look at her as long as I can but I don’t want her to see…” 

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “I can do that.” 

“Thank you,” she smiled tightly, actually looking at you this time. “I… I know this isn’t what you planned but… It’s easier, knowing she has someone.” 

“I’ll take care of her,” you said. “I’ll love her. I’ll take care of her.” 

Laurel just nodded and looked back at her child, watching her for a moment, the gun in her shaky hand. 

“Mama loves you,” she said softly, raising the gun to her temple and closing her eyes. You quickly pressed Savannah’s face into your chest and held her close. 

Everything was eerily silent for a moment, the longest second of your life, before there was the crack of the gun and the sharp cry of the baby who was all you had left in the world. 

August 2018 

“You have learn this, Savvy.”

“I don’t want to shoot them, Mama,” your daughter looked over at you from her spot on the downed tree, looking at the infected more than 100 feet away through a scope. 

“These are the easiest things you’ll ever have to shoot,” you said gently. “It’s nice to shoot them, you’re making it so they’re not hurting anymore…” 

“But they’re people.” 

Her eyes - her father’s eyes - were so wide. The springs of her curls were bundled back away from her face, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. 

“I know they look like people,” you ran your hand over the crown of her small head. “But they’re not, not anymore. They’re things that are hurting and the only way to help them is to shoot them. And shooting them keeps you and me safe. Now, you can do this. Do it just like you do at home with the targets.” 

She looked at you, her big eyes watery, before obeying and turning back toward the gun. You watched as she lined up her shot and took a deep breath, exhaling before firing. 

Her shot went a little wide, catching the infected on the arm. It whipped its head around and shrieked before running for you. 

“Mama!” 

“It’s alright,” you said, looking down your own rifle for a moment before firing and hitting it in the head. It dropped like a stone. “See? All OK. This is why we learn.”

“I’m sorry,” her voice was thick and trembling and you looked over at her, tears streaming down her face. “I tried hard, I promise…” she hiccuped and gulped in air and you set your rifle down and sat up before pulling her against you. 

“You did so good,” you kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be sorry, Honey, you did so good, I’m so proud of you.”

“But I didn’t kill them,” she pulled her face from your chest, her lower lip quivering. “I did it wrong and…” 

“You’ll get better,” you said gently. “No one is perfect when they’re learning. This is just to make sure that you’re safe. I’ll always protect you but it’s good for you to know how to protect yourself, too. This is just in case, OK?” 

She nodded against you and you held her until she stopped crying. When she calmed, you ran your thumbs over her cheeks and kissed her small forehead, wishing you didn’t have to teach her these things. If you could just shelter her away from the world - from infected, from the people who has found power because of the infected - then it would all be OK. She wouldn’t need to know how to kill. It could be just you and her, growing things and raising horses and reading by the fire, until the end of time. 

But the world, you knew, was not so kind. 

“Want to go pick out some books?” You asked gently. She nodded and the two of you got up and you took her hand, leading her to the library. 

In the more than five years you’d had Savvy, she had become your entire world. Everything you did, you did for her. To keep her safe, to make her happy, to teach her. You’d known nothing about children when Laurel brought her to you. The first night, you’d held her close while you both cried and you prayed to a god you’d never been sure existed that you would do right by her.

Loving her came easy. Living for her was harder. 

But you fell into it eventually, guiding her through the world as it was now as best you could. If you found a family near your territory, you’d watch them from afar and, once you knew it was safe, bring Savvy to introduce her, give her a chance to know someone besides yourself. You taught her how to read, how to count, how to skin a rabbit. You had no idea if it was the right thing but you hoped it would be enough that, when she was older, she would survive if something happened to you. That’s all that mattered, that she would be OK. 

“Mama?” She asked, setting her picture book on her legs as you browsed the shelves for more books on home schooling and small scale farming.

“Yes baby?” 

“What else would I need to shoot?” 

You frowned and looked down at her, your hand on the spine of a book. 

“What?” 

“Well, you said that the not people are the easiest things I would have to shoot,” she said, face serious. “So… what else would I have to shoot?” 

“I don’t think you’ll like shooting animals much,” you said and she crinkled her nose. “But you’ll probably have to at some point.” 

“But I like animals,” she pouted. 

You smiled. 

“I know you do.” 

“What else?” She asked, still peering up at you. 

You sighed. 

“Sometimes…” you turned your attention back to the books. “Sometimes you’ll have to shoot a person.” 

Her wide eyes somehow grew wider, a look of horror on her face. 

“But…” her little voice broke. “But I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “But sometimes we have to.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” you looked down to her. “There are things in this world that want to hurt you and you need to know how to hurt them first.” 

“But you’re here,” she said. She was so young, so small. You knelt, getting down on her level. 

“You still need to know how,” you said. “I will do everything I can to protect you but I might fail. You need to know how to destroy them before they destroy you because they will. They will destroy every part of you they can touch if they have the chance. Don’t give them the chance.” 

She considered that for a moment, her face very serious. 

“Does it hurt?” She asked, looking up at you. 

You reached down at cupped her cheek.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Yes, it does.” 

Her eyes were wide and soft and deep and you wanted, more than anything, to keep her safe. 

“But I’ll take care of you,” you said, stroking her soft skin with your thumb. “For as long as I’m alive, I’ll take care of you.” 

September 15, 2023 

“Mom?” 

You looked up from where you were working at skinning a rabbit. There was a glow in your front window, a hold over from when Savvy was even younger and you had to leave to go check on the horses before bed. She got scared one night when she woke up and found that you weren’t in the dark cabin. Ever since, you always left the electric lantern on when you left in the evenings, even though she said she didn’t need it anymore. It was just enough to work by as the sun got lower outside. 

“Yeah?”

“What…” she paused, an odd look on her face. “What’s in Gattling’s mouth?” 

The dog was hovering behind Savvy’s legs and you leaned around from your position on a tree stump, trying to get a look at her. You frowned, not able to make it out in the low light, and set the rabbit and your knife down, wiping your hands on a rag tucked into your belt.  

Gattling’s tail wagged as you approached, her head low and you squatted down to be on her level, angling her head toward the house so her muzzle wasn’t in shadow. Her snout was red with blood, something dangling from her jaws. You held your palm out flat. 

“Gattling, release.” 

She obediently dropped it in your hand with a sickening splat. It took you a moment to realize that it was a pinky finger. 

“Mom?” Savvy’s voice was shaky. You dropped the finger where you stood and heard the crack of a gunshot in the distance. 

“We have to move.” 

You grabbed her arm and pulled her in the house, Gattling trotting close behind. 

“What’s happening?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. “Mom, what’s…” 

“Get packed,” you said, grabbing a pack and thrusting at her before running to the dresser in the corner. You shrugged out of the shirt you were wearing and traded it for the one you’d worn when you fled the ranch 20 years earlier, not willing to leave Justin’s shirt behind. “Some clothes, first aid, batteries, flashlights, all three kinds of ammo, sleeping bag.” 

You went to the kitchen and started grabbing things you’d already preserved. Jerky, dried fruit, some seeds. Most of the canteens in the house were full and you grabbed a few. You grabbed the pistol, the shot gun and the rifles. You set it all out on the table and looked over to your daughter who was obediently filling her pack. 

“Leave room for this,” you said, taking your rifle from the pile. “Meet me by the horses as quick as you can. Turn out the lantern on your way.” 

She just nodded. You sprinted for the cabin you’d turned into a stable. Nike was huffed at your arrival and you grabbed her tack and saddled her up as quickly as you could, making sure there was room to add basic supplies. Savvy ran into the pen just as you led Nike and Perseus into the middle of it. 

“Long guns,” you held your hand out as you tightened down straps of the saddle. She handed you the shotgun first and you tucked it into a strap on the saddle. The rifle came next. You stepped back and looked at it for a moment. 

“OK,” you said turning back to your daughter, looking her over. She’d gotten so tall, she was only a few inches shorter than you now, you didn’t even need to stoop to press a kiss to her forehead. “Want you to head north, understand?” 

“What are you talking about?” She asked as you took her arm and guided her alongside the horse. “Mom, you’re coming with me, I’ll just follow you, I’ll just…” 

“I’ll get to you when I can,” you said. She shook her head, her eyes wide. 

“No,” she grabbed your arms. “No, you can’t, you can’t just leave me, you can’t…” 

“I’m not leaving you,” you held her face in your hands, looked into her eyes. She had her father’s eyes. “I’m not, OK? I will find you. I will always find you, sweet girl, I will always protect you. That’s what I’m going to do, OK? I’m going to buy you time. Cut north, stick to the woods, off the trails. You know things here. Go out of the way, work your way around the long way to the library. Meet me there in three days, it should be safe…” 

“Three days?” She gaped at you. “No, I can’t…” 

“Yes you can,” you said, firm enough that you believed it, too. “Yes you can. I’ve taught you everything I know, you can make it. It’s just three days, you’ll be OK. You’re so strong and you’re so smart, you’re going to be OK. I will always find you. I will always protect you, I will always keep you safe. I promise.” 

You pulled her tight to you and kissed her temple. 

“I love you,” you breathed, pulling back to look at her face. “More than anything, I love you. I’ll see you soon, OK? Ride through the night, switch horses at dawn and keep riding until tomorrow night. You can do this.” 

“I can do this,” she repeated. “I can do this.” 

You looked to the dog at your feet, her tail wagging and her muzzle bloody. 

“Gattling,” you said. Her ears perked up. “Savvy.” 

She immediately went to your daughter’s side, ready to protect her. 

You boosted Savvy onto the horse, taking a final look at her. 

“Just three days, right Mom?” 

You swallowed, hard, before nodding. 

“Just three days. Be safe. Be smart. I’ll see you soon.” 

You didn’t have the luxury of watching her ride away. The second her, Nike and Perseus were clear of the paddock, you ran to saddle up Hercules. 

You needed to buy her time. 

October 13, 2023

You were still paying for your escape. 

It was hard to keep track of time. You were with Mitchum and his crew about two weeks the first time. That’s what it felt like, anyway. You were pretty sure it had been about half as long since they got you back. It was hard to tell. You were so panicked, in so much pain that time stretched and expanded and every hour that passed was an hour that you were separated from your daughter and you needed to get to her, you had to. She was just 11 years old and the world was not kind to girls. You’d taught her everything you knew but you had to get back to her, you didn’t want her to have to hurt and kill. 

When you’d escaped, you’d done nothing but search for her. You went to the library, tried to track where you thought she’d have come from but it had been weeks. There was no trail left to follow. You were about to return to your cabin to check there when Mitchum’s men found you again. You still had no idea where Savvy was.

You’d promised to take care of her. You’d promised her, you’d promised the woman who had given her to you a decade earlier. You’d promised. 

You had to get back to her. 

They’d chained you to a wall this time but you thought you might be able to pull the bolt out of the wood if you worked at it diligently enough. You pried at it until your nails were bloody and you kept going. You were covered in blood already, anyway. It was sticky on your skin where it had flowed from the cut on your head where your face had been slammed into the floor as one of Mitchum’s men had taken you from behind while you were on your knees. It had been a steady drip from inside of you since the first time Mitchum forced himself on you when you were brought back, whatever injury there was not given time to heal. The raiders seemed to like it when you bled on them. It even coated part of your arm where one man had cut you when trying to control you, not happy with your lack of compliance as he hurt you. A little more as you tried to pry yourself free wasn’t going to draw attention. 

The door slammed into the wall without warning and you jumped, shocking back from the wall. The man standing there smirked, stalking over to you. 

“Getting ideas are we?” He sneered. He didn’t wait for a response. “Thought you’d have learned your fuckin’ lesson last time…” 

He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuff that held you before pulling you roughly to your feet. He didn’t give you any clothes, he just pulled you, naked, out to the circle of men around a campfire. Your heart sped up, tried to count them. You weren’t sure you could survive being at the mercy of the more than two dozen who were here, not at one time. He threw you into the dirt and you caught yourself on your hands and knees. 

“Here’s my favorite little bitch,” Mitchum stalked forward. You sat back on your heels and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to protect what you could. “How have you liked being back home? We keepin’ you entertained?” 

A few of the men laughed. You swallowed and peered around, hoping for something you could take advantage of, just one open space, one unguarded moment and you could escape. For good this time. You could do that, you could escape and figure out where you were and then find Savvy. 

“Figured out what you were hidin’ back in that homestead of yours,” Mitchum said, a smirk on his voice. You looked at him, eyes wide. Your stomach dropped and he laughed. “Didn’t think you’d like that. Can see why you were workin’ so hard now, she sure was a pretty little thing.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat. 

He laughed. 

“That can be arranged,” he said. “Fucked that girl of yours, too. Broke her in real good…” 

You were on your feet before you fully realized what you were doing, running for him. You grabbed at his face, snarling and grasping as you sank your bloody nails into his skin. You dug deep and he punched you in the stomach as one of his men pulled you back, forcing you to the ground. 

“I’ll kill you!” You shrieked. “I’ll fucking kill you!” 

He stalked forward and punched you across the face before grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look at him. You felt blood on your teeth and you wished it was his. You wanted to rip his throat out like an animal, wanted to claw and bite at him until he succumbed. 

“I wanted to keep the both of you,” he said, holding your hair tight in his fist, fingers against your scalp. “Figured you’d be a lot more fun with her life on the line. Too bad she couldn’t take it.” 

The world tilted on its axis. You hadn’t eaten in days but you still felt like you were going to be sick, like everything inside of you, the blood and the viscera that made you a living being, was going to come up. 

“Oh yeah,” he smirked. “Should’ve probably been more careful with her but it was just so much fun to hear her beg for her mama…” 

“You’re a liar,” you hissed through clenched teeth. “A fucking liar!” 

He kept his eyes on you and he whistled before forcing you to look at the fire. Two men stepped forward, each carrying burlap sacks. One was much larger than the other. 

“Show ‘er.” 

The first man, the one with the large bag, turned it over. A horse head fell out of the sack, landing on the dirt with a wet thud. It took you a second to recognize her, separate from her body, but it was Nike. You screamed, the sound clawing its way up from your chest and you instinctively reached for her only to have Mitchum rip you back by your hair. 

“Wanna see what’s in the other bag?” He pressed his mouth against your ear as you sobbed. “Decided to keep her head, thought I should pass it around, see if it’s as good cold…” 

You strained in his hold, trying to shake your head. You couldn’t get yourself to form words. There was the distinct feeling that someone was cracking you open, prying apart your chest and pulling your organs out one by one. They didn’t belong to you anymore. You weren’t sure they ever really had, they were hers and she was gone.

You couldn’t see her like that, see just her head, like she had only ever been parts and pieces to begin with.  

“Please,” you managed through the gasping, racking sobs. “Please, please, no, I’ll do whatever you want, whatever…” 

Mitchum smiled. 

“Good.” 

The pain of the brand barely registered in your mind, even as your body jerked with it. Everything seemed dulled and numbed. Time slowed and stretched and, for a while, the only thing that your body seemed to have space for was the agonizing pain of losing something you were never built to lose. 

It was a year before there was room for anything else. 

Early April, 2027 

“Bambi…” 

“Move, Joel.” 

You shoved past him. You’d need a sleeping bag, two sleeping bags, actually. An extra pair of boots, she probably didn’t have those. She’d have out grown the last ones she had, she would be 14 now, she’d be even taller, have bigger feet, longer legs. They didn’t give you clothes when you were with them, you doubted it was different for her. 

First aid, that you’d need. 

“You can’t do this, Baby,” he was following close behind you. 

“Yes, I can.” 

“You’re gonna get yourself fucking killed,” there was a strain in his voice. “Who knows what you’ll be walking into out there, how many there’ll be, how armed they’ll fuckin’ be, what they’ll do to you if they get your hands on you…” 

“I have to try.” 

You didn’t have a gun here. You’d have to get one, you were pretty sure Maria would give you one if you told her why you needed it. 

“Just…” Joel sounded desperate. “Just wait, until after the storm, just wait, I’ll go with you, we’ll look, we’ll…” 

“It’ll be too late,” you shook your head. “Someone got out, as soon as the weather clears they’re gonna move and we’ll lose them, it has to be now.” 

“Have you seen how shit’s pickin’ up out there?” He came around in front of you, taking you by the shoulders. “Baby, the wind is gonna knock you off your damn horse, you can’t help her if you’re dead, please, I’m begging you, please…” 

“What would you do?” You asked. “If it was Sarah, if it was Ellie. Would you sit here and wait? Or would you go get her?” 

He froze, looking at you. 

Your knife. You’d need your knife. You went to get it but Joel stopped you, his hand on your elbow. 

“Bambi,” he said quietly. “You can’t know that it’s her.” 

“It could be,” you said. “Joel…” 

“It’s been years,” he whispered. “Baby, it’s been years, there’s… I’m so sorry but she’s… They wouldn’t have let her live this long, she couldn’t have survived this long, she’s gone, I’m so sorry…” 

You shook your head. You had that feeling again, like the one you had that day around the fire when Mitchum had told you he’d killed her, the feeling that your whole self was being ripped apart. 

But you’d never seen that she was gone. You never held her body, never saw the life leave her eyes. You didn’t know that she was gone. She could be alive. She could. 

“You don’t know that,” you said, your voice thick. “You don’t…” 

“You barley survived,” he said softly. “You, the strongest fucking person I know and you damn near died. A teenager couldn’t have survived that, Baby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry and…” 

“No,” you snapped, swallowing back your tears. “You don’t know, you don’t know them like I do…” 

“I do,” he cut you off. “Sweetheart, I am begging you, stay here. Please. Don’t get yourself killed, if it’s her we will find her as soon as it’s safe…” 

“You don’t know!” You pushed him back. He was costing you time, time you didn’t have. Savvy was out there, she was out there alone and afraid and you were going to find her. “Let me go, Joel. I know them, you don’t understand them, you can’t understand them…” 

“I understand them because I used to be one of them!” 

You froze. He was watching you, his eyes wide and desperate as he panted for breath. Your heart was pounding, there was a high pitched whine in your ears, something like a siren or when you first came to Jackson and could hear the electricity in the walls. 

“What?” You whispered, suddenly keenly aware of how close he was to you, of his hand on you. You could feel the outline of his fingers, each individual callus distinct against your skin. 

“I used to be one,” he said softly. “A… a raider, I used to be one. It was a long time ago but I know how they think, I know how they operate and… I’m sorry but if they’ve had her for three and a half years? She’s gone, Sweetheart. There’s nothing left for you to save…” 

You thought Joel was still talking but you couldn’t hear him. It was like you’d just jumped into deep water, the cold of it shocking and painful and the rush of it drowning out everything you knew. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe, could barely see. 

Joel. Your Joel, the person you trusted more than any other, was a raider. He was like them, like the men who had torn you away from your daughter, who had raped you, who had tortured you, who now might be doing the same to your child right now and Joel knew them because he was like them because he had done those things, too. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

You were suddenly in your body again, out of that deep dark water and back in your house. Joel’s hands were on you and it was like they were on fire, you could feel it through your skin into your muscle, your bone, down into the marrow of you it hurt where his hands were on you. 

“Baby,” he said gently and you forced yourself to look at his face. You couldn’t breathe. You’d kissed him, told him things you’d never told anyone, all but begged him to touch you and he was just like them. 

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed it and he ripped his hands away like you’d burned him. You could breathe again and gulped in air, reaching for the back of your couch. You needed something to keep you standing, you felt like you were going to collapse or throw up. Joel’s hands were up, like he was waiting to catch you if you fell. “Don’t touch me, don’t you fucking touch me!” 

“You’re OK,” he said, keeping his hands off of you but stepping closer. “I’ve got you, you’re OK…” 

“Get away from me!” You backed away from him, looking for the best way out of here. You had to get away from him, he wasn’t safe, he was just like them and you had to get away from him, you couldn’t be anywhere near him. “Get away!” 

You said it again and again and again and you kept backing away from him until you were pressed against the wall. Joel stayed where he was and, when you were able to look at him again, it looked like he was in pain. 

“I’m away,” he said softly, his hands up. “Not gonna touch you, Sweetheart…” 

“Don’t call me that,” you were sobbing and you weren’t sure when you’d started. 

“What?” He whispered. 

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You bit out, staying back against the wall. He was so big, he could overpower you, he could hurt you, it would be easy for him. “Don’t call me that, not when you’re like them, you’re just like them, I trusted you and you’re just like them…” 

“No,” he shook his head, voice thick. He closed the gap between you quickly and you shocked back from him but he didn’t seem to notice, taking you in his arms and clutching onto you. But his touch made your skin crawl, everywhere his body was against your own screaming in panic. “No, not like that, I never… I never did what they did to you, Sweetheart, please, you have to believe me, I never did that, never. I just…” 

“I trusted you!” You sobbed, your legs collapsing from beneath you. Joel clung to you, keeping you from falling to the floor, but you hated his hands on you, suddenly feeling like hands you’d hated so much. You twisted and fought to get away but he just held onto you. “I trusted you, you made me love you, I let you inside of me and you’re like them, you’re just like them…” 

“I’m sorry, Baby,” his voice was thick and wet. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could take it back, wish I could change it…” 

You managed to firmly plant your feet on the ground and you shoved against his broad, firm chest, desperate for distance from him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” 

He let you go and you scrambled back from him, fighting to breathe. He was looking at you, tears in his eyes. 

“Baby, please,” he whispered. “Please just… let me take care of you, I understand what…” 

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” your voice shook. 

“Bambi…” 

“Get out,” you managed. 

He said your name. Your real name. 

“Get out!” You screamed, so loud and harsh you felt it ripping out of you. “Get out of here, get away from me, get out!” 

“I’ll go!” He kept his hands up. “Just gotta promise me…” 

“I don’t gotta do shit for you,” you shook your head. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything that will get you hurt,” he said softly, He was crying, too. “Please, I’m begging you, I’ll do whatever you want just promise….” 

“I won’t, now get out!” You yelled. “Get out, get away from me!” 

“I’m going,” he said quickly. “Please… Please, be safe, please.” 

You watched as he made his way to your door but he stopped and looked back at you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For… for all of it, I’m so sorry.” 

He closed the door behind him and you collapsed to the ground and sobbed, clutching onto yourself like it was going to keep your body intact but it still felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces and there would be no one to help put you together again. 

You weren’t sure how long you were there on the floor but, eventually, you were able to make yourself move again. 

You thought of Savvy, of your daughter, of where she might be, of how you’d promised to keep her safe. You got up off the floor, body numb, and grabbed your pack before going out into the snow. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Alright, yell at me. I'm ready for it.

There's a lot in this chapter, I know. It's long, it's rough, it's been coming for a while. We first got a hint of Savvy in chapter 4 when Bambi thought about Joel's possible relationship to Ellie and she's been hinted at regularly since. She's why Bambi knew to use ginger to help William's teething, she's why Bambi was specifically grateful to have another adult around when Marisa showed up, she's why Bambi keeps searching every time there's even a hint of raider activity.

And after everything she's been through, she can't just blindly accept Joel's past, that's way WAY too much for anyone who's survived what she has to bear.

I hope this didn't come completely out of the blue and I hope you're still up for reading more of this story. I hope it'll be worth it in the end. I think it will be.

Thank you for being here. This is a story that I feel like deserves to be told, even the dark parts of it, and I'm so thankful you're along for the ride. Love you ❤️

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

[wowsosad]

I love your stuff so far!!! Care to share any thoughts on maybe,, 17ish sam still being a virgin and Dean teasing him abt it? :33333

Hi nonnie :) I took some liberties with this, and it’s mostly unserious and silly. Lmk if you want something smutty next time !

CW/TW: Sam is 17 and Dean is 21, bisexual Sam, sexual conversation, coming out

.

Sam’s done stuff, okay? Not a crazy amount, but he’s had a couple girlfriends, some guyfriends (not boyfriends, there’s a key difference) that he’s fooled around with. But actual sex? Not yet. Dean clocks him on that the summer after his 17th birthday, when John’s dropped them off at some random apartment in western Montana. He’s helping a buddy—a Mason or Michael or Mitch, Sam can’t remember—with a vampire coven a town and a half away. Sam and Dean would’ve been invited, but Dean’s got stitches healing up his sides, and Sam’s got a “shitty goddamn attitude”. They’re rotting in the dry air of the apartment when Dean decides he’s bored of daytime TV, and demands a round of Quid Pro Quo, AKA the game where Dean asks as many embarrassing questions he can think of. Sam’s so bored out of his skull that he agrees to it.

They’re sitting across from each other on the living room couch, and it starts simple. Stupid stuff, like “when’d you last jerk off,” and “monster we’ve killed that you’d fuck”. To anyone else, it’d be a weird conversation to have with your brother, but sex is 80% of Dean’s personality. Half of the shit that comes out of Dean’s mouth has something to do with girls, or boobs, or dicks between boobs, or whatever other dirty thing he can think of. Sam was used to this.

“Um…” Sam trailed, eyes drifting to the ceiling as he tried to think of his next question, “What is… What’s something you’d never do with a girl?”

Dean hummed, pushing his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout as he thought of his answer, “I dunno. I think anything with another guy would be a no, especially like, her boyfriend or brother or something. If he wants to watch, I won’t mind, but active participation is a no from me.”

Sam scrunched his nose at the idea, feigning disgust. A guy-girl-guy sandwich didn’t sound too bad in his head, but an interested response didn’t seem appropriate. Dean laughed at Sam’s expression, relaxing into the couch.

“My turn,” Dean’s smile dipped towards something mischievous, and Sam knew he was in for something raunchy, “When’d you lose your virginity?”

Sam’s heart stuttered, and he felt his face heat. “Uh,” he swallowed harshly, “Last year,” the lie stumbled off his tongue. Dean’s eyebrow raised.

“When last year?” Dean pushed, and Sam shook his head.

“Nope,” Sam bit the inside of his cheek, “My turn. Why the disinterest in including a guy?”

Dean’s face flushed slightly, confusing Sam. Dean wasn’t the type to blush, but maybe it was the blunt way Sam had delivered the question. The older brother shrugged.

“I dunno, I’m not into dudes. If I’m fucking a girl, I don’t want someone else’s dick involved,” Dean hurried through the sentence, then his eyes hardened on Sam. “When’d you lose your virginity last year?”

Sam’s ears were hot. “A little before my birthday, when we were in Missouri.” He’d quickly puzzled through the aspects of the lie in the brief seconds Dean had used to respond to his question. The game felt like an investigation with the way he spit out his next question: “You mentioned a brother being part of the equation. Has that ever happened to you?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Jesus, you’re hooked on this one. Yeah, a few years ago when we hunted that shapeshifter in Utah, one of the cheerleaders flirted pretty hard with me. I thought we were gonna hook up, but she said that we could only fuck if her brother got to supervise. It was weird, and I didn’t talk to her again afterwards.”

Sam nodded his acknowledgment, and felt his stomach swoop when Dean’s eyes darkened.

“What was the name of the girl you lost your virginity to, and what’d she look like?”

Oh, he’d gone in for the kill. Sam paused too long before responding, and knew he’d lost.

“Um. Dakota, and she was, uh, blonde, and had green eyes. She was cute, I guess,” Sam sputtered, and the growing smirk on Dean’s face didn’t help his embarrassment of being caught.

“You little shit, you’re lying!” Dean crowed, tossing his head back as he laughed, one of his hands coming up to cradle his stitched-up side, “You seriously haven’t lost it yet?”

Sam’s face burned, and his stomach flip-flopped. Nausea crawled up his throat, his body physically reacting to how silly he felt. Being caught in a lie was far worse than just admitting he hadn’t had sex yet—Dean wasn’t going to shut up about this for weeks.

“Shuddup!” Sam’s voice was practically a whine as he buried his face in his hands, scrubbing at his eyes before yelling over Dean’s hyena laughter, “It’s not like I haven’t done other stuff, you jerk, I just haven’t gone all the way!”

Dean’s laughter calmed, the elder of the two’s expression shifting from humor to interest. “Okay, then what’s the farthest you’ve gone?”

Sam scowled, “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“I’m not playing anymore,” Dean grinned, “I’m just asking. Answer the question.”

Sam’s face felt like it was on fire, and his stomach felt like a pot of water that’d been readied to boil. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he bled.

“I-” Sam hesitated, debating whether or not to lie again. The farthest he’d ever gone ever was him and a guyfriend (not boyfriend) making out in some back room of a house party, then jerking each other off. Some fingers had ended up inside of him, and his face darkened further at the thought. He could lie, spin it like he’d been with some girl, but Dean was waiting for a lie. Sam huffed, avoiding his older brothers wide, excited eyes.

“I was at a party, and we made out and… ugh, we got off together. Fingering was involved,” Sam covered his eyes with his hand, groaning at Dean’s low, appreciative whistle.

“Wow,” Dean’s smile was salacious, “What was her name?”

Sam could lie. He really could, since Dean seemed to have taken the bait. He removed his face from his hand, glancing over to Dean. His stomach twisted and turned.

“Daniel,” Sam muttered.

Dean blinked, and blinked again. His grin slipped off his face as he seemed to process the information. Sam felt sick.

“Daniel, or like, Danielle?” Dean tried. Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Daniel. His name was Daniel Atkins.”

Sam watched, the fear dissipating from his stomach as Dean’s face slowly turned bright red. A little grin perked at his mouth.

“Uh,” Dean tried, suddenly averting eye contact, “Cool, alright.”

“‘Cool’?” Sam questioned. Dean nodded emphatically.

“Yeah, totally cool,” Dean affirmed, though his face remained red, “Very very cool. Still lame that you’re a virgin, though.”

Sam snorted, and extended his leg to kick Dean softly, “Jerk.”

Dean swatted at Sam’s offending leg, “Bitch!”