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scoonsalicious · 1 month

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Unwanted: Chapter 16, Unaccompanied - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, allusions to sexy stuff, a long overdue conversation with Steve.

Word Count: 2.4k

Previously On...: You went to Tony for answers about how Carthage ended up on the Quinjet; he asks you to attend his annual shareholder gala on Saturday. You, vomiting, + a bunch of stuffy rich people. What could go wrong?

A/N: Quick note about how text messages are written herein: Outgoing messages (in this instance, from Pocket to Bucky) will be indicated by ">>" in front of them. Incoming messages are labeled with the contact name the phone owner has for that person in their phone. In this instance, Pocket has Bucky saved in her phone as "Magic Dick🍆🦾" lol

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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The gala had barely begun and you were already exhausted. Your stomach bug hadn’t let up, and you’d been vomiting for the last two days. Fortunately, you were able to get an injection of an anti-nausea medication from one of the interns down in the med bay, so even though you didn’t currently have to worry about puking your guts out on some obscenely wealthy financier, you just had to deal with the constant exhaustion you’d been feeling from your illness.

Just a few more hours, you told yourself as you brushed off the advances of yet another man old enough to be your father. Not once had anyone actually wanted to discuss the Crisis Prediction Algorithm System. It seemed you were being viewed more as potential arm candy than Stark Industries’ CTO. That alone was enough to leave you longing for an early night in your bed.

You did look amazing, though, you had to admit, even if you’d had to go a little heavy on the makeup to mask your pallor. When you asked Tony for a new dress, you’d anticipated taking the girls on a shopping trip. Tony, however, had other ideas and had sent a designer from one of the city’s top fashion houses to the Tower to collect your measurements, and then, the following day, a garment bag appeared in your room containing a striking dress in shimmering Iron Man-red. The bodice was form fitting and strapless, with an asymmetric neckline, and the skirt was full and came down to just below your ankles.

It was gorgeous, and when your hair and makeup had been completed, you looked like a princess straight out of a fairy tale. You’d sent a picture to Bucky and he’d immediately sent you back a series of panting emojis that had you laughing. The following string of text that described exactly what he wanted to do to you in the dress then had you panting, yourself. Fuck your parameters, apparently.

But now, you couldn’t wait to get out of it for an entirely different reason. The call of your pajamas was so alluring. Not only were you physically tired, but you were bored out of your mind. As this was a Stark Industries party, and not an official Avengers gathering, most of your friends had opted not to come. Rhodey was here, now almost fully recovered from his gunshot wounds, but Tony wouldn’t leave his side, so he was constantly being surrounded by people and you couldn’t really find an opening to go talk to him.

When you’d asked Nat and Wanda if they wanted to come with you, Wanda had politely declined, letting you know that she and Vision already had plans to go out of town for the weekend, while Nat just scoffed at you. “I would literally rather swallow broken glass, Pocket,” she’d said. “Those things are boring as fuck and there is not enough money you could possibly pay me to go to one, sorry.” She’d ended up going bar hopping with Clint and Sam, instead.

So, there you were, all by yourself, not even able to distract yourself with the elaborate spread of food that Tony had provided, as the thought of eating still turned your stomach, when you felt a hand at your elbow.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. His presence took you by surprise– you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d truly spoken to one another, aside from clipped conversations about work and missions. “That’s a lovely dress.” A slight blush tinted his cheeks. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Steve, hi. Um, I’m good, thank you. Just really tired. Not quite in the right headspace to schmooze, you know?” you asked him, trying to fight off the awkwardness you were feeling at speaking to him again after so long. “You look very dashing tonight.” And he did, with his dark navy suit and cream button-up.

He smiled, then held out a hand. “Would you care to dance?” he asked. You thought about it for a second. You didn’t want to lead him on, let him think you had any interest beyond the platonic relationship you’d always shared, but you were so fucking bored. One dance couldn’t hurt.

“I’d love to,” you said, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor.

He was surprisingly light on his feet, given his hulking frame, and he led you through the steps with ease. You somehow managed to only step on his toes twice, which gave you both a good laugh.

“I must have forgotten all my finishing school lessons,” you teased.

“Nah, you’re doing great.” Steve sent you out for a spin, but as he twirled you back into his arms, you were overcome with a wave of dizziness and stumbled. You felt your knees give out and your body begin to collapse in its exhaustion.

“Whoa,” said Steve, using his super soldier reflexes to grab you before you could fall and hold you steady. “I got you. You wanna sit down? Rest a bit?”

You nodded and he led you over to a quiet corner where some couches had been arranged for that very purpose. He guided you down to sit, then placed himself next to you, concern clouding his features.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just, you know, between the nausea and the vomiting, I haven’t really been able to keep a lot of food down over the last two days. It’s got me so tired. I think I overdid it with a dance number.”

Steve chuckled, then stood up. “Let me go get you something to drink,” he said. “It’s important that you stay hydrated.” You nodded, and he was off.

With a sigh, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to Bucky, but knowing that, due to the time difference, he was probably sleeping.

>> I miss you.

You were quite surprised, then, when you saw the three dots appear almost immediately.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Not that I don’t miss you too, because I desperately do.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: But aren’t you supposed to be livin' it up like Cinderella at the ball?

You chuckled at that before responding.

>> This Cinderella is tired and bored and would much rather be snuggled up in bed with her metal-armed Prince Charming watching a movie or literally any other activity aside from being at this ball unaccompanied.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: You better be talking ‘bout me, doll.

>> How many other metal-armed men do I have in my life, dipshit?

>> Why are you even awake, anyway?

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’m just teasin’ you, smart ass ;)

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’d much rather be curled up in bed with you doin any variety of bedly activities, too >:)

Magic Dick🍆🦾: And I’m up because we’re getting ready to act on our intel and raid the communications office we were sent to find.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Hit 'em at dawn when they’re least suspectin’ it, ya know?

>> Jesus Christ, baby! Be careful!

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing you hadn’t gone on the mission– you didn’t even have the energy to imagine yourself having the energy to conduct a raid in your current state.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Always, doll. Gotta get back to my best girl, don’t I?

>> You absolutely do. Cause if I found out you died, I will kill you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I have no doubt that if someone were to find a way to murder me from beyond my grave, it would be you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Shit. Sorry sweets, I gotta go.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Try to have fun. I love you.

>> I love you too, Buckaroo.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, but there was no further reply. Wonderful. Now you would be spending what little energy you absolutely did not have to spare worrying about Bucky’s safety.

Steve returned then, handing you a cold glass dripping with condensation. “It’s lemonade,” he said as you took a sip. “I know how much you like lemons.”

You smiled in thanks, but it came out more like a grimace. Steve noticed immediately.

“Are you alright? Does it not taste good? I could go get you something else…”

You put a reassuring hand on his arm. “No, Steve, the lemonade’s fine. Thank you for getting it for me; that was very thoughtful. It’s just,” you sighed, “I was texting Bucky. He and Carthage are running a raid on a communications office as we speak, and now I’m just nervous and worried about him.”

Steve’s brow creased. “Oh,” he said, though you could tell there was more behind the word than the single syllable would imply. “I didn’t realize the two of you had gotten back together.”

Fuck. You were by far too tired to be having this conversation. Squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, you decided it was time to confront the giant elephant that had been sitting between you and the Captain for far too long. “We haven’t, not officially, anyway, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t still love each other, in spite of everything that’s happened. We’re just working on building trust. Or rather, he’s working on building trust, and I’m working on determining if I can trust him again. It’s a process.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, the movement so minute you would have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him so closely in the moment. You took a deep breath before you continued.

“Look, Steve,” you began, “I know about your feelings for me.” His eyes shot up to meet yours, and he opened his mouth to protest, but you gently held a hand up to stop him from speaking. You needed to get everything you had to say out while you still had the energy to do so. “I’ve known for a bit, and while I’m truly flattered, and honored, that you care for me, I’m also so sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you. You’re a good man. A wonderful man, and I know most people would tell me I’m an idiot for not reciprocating, but I just don’t share those feelings.”

“It’s because of Berlin, isn’t it?” he asked softly, not meeting your gaze, and for a moment, you could see the small, shy boy Bucky had told you about from his youth.

“Berlin altered our relationship, it’s true,” you told him, “but the nature of my feelings for you were cemented long before that. You’re my family, and do I love you, but I love you as a member of that family. The way I love Tony, and Nat, and Thor, but maybe a little better than I love Clint.” Steve chuckled softly at that, and you smiled, glad you could make him laugh even a little. “I’m sorry this isn’t the answer you want to hear, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to watch me be with your best friend. None of it was ever done with the intention of deliberately causing you pain, but at the same time, I need to do what’s going to make me happy, and I hope you can accept that, as my friend and a member of my family.”

Steve looked like he was going to argue with you for a moment, but he kept his mouth shut and just nodded. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “I can accept that. It hurts,” he chuckled humorously, “but I want both you and Bucky to be happy.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you said, suppressing a yawn. “Holy shit, I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night. I put in enough time to fulfill my obligation to Tony.” You stood, but immediately stumbled, the motion of standing enough to make you dizzy.

Steve was instantly on his feet, an arm out to steady you. “I got you,” he said. He put a hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. “You don’t seem to have a fever, but I’m getting worried about you, Pocket. I should escort you down to med bay.”

You waved the suggestion off. “No, it’s fine. The last thing I want is a bunch of doctors poking and prodding at me all night. I’ll be fine, I just need to sleep.”

“You can barely even stand up on your own,” Steve protested. “Let me at least walk you back to your room. Make sure you get there without falling over.” You were going to tell him you’d be fine on your own when a wave of nausea overtook you.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, clutching tightly to his arm for support. You had planned on going over to Tony and Pepper to say a proper goodbye, but given the way you were currently feeling, an Irish one was going to have to do, instead.

Steve put a hand to your back and led you out of the banquet hall. You had to stop more than once to steady yourself, and you were grateful for Steve’s assistance. By the time he’d walked you to your door, you were running on fumes.

“Do you need help getting inside?” he asked, looking worried.

“No,” you assured him. “I’ll be okay. I am literally just going to collapse into my bed. Might not even bother taking the dress off, to be honest.”

Steve blushed, and you regretted putting the idea of you getting out of your clothes into his head. “Well, if you’re sure,” he said, running a hand behind his neck, the movement so similar to Bucky that it threw you for a moment. “If there’s anything you need in the night, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me, alright?”

“Sure, Steve,” you said as he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You were grateful for his help, but you knew that, even if you were suddenly dying, you would not, in fact, be calling him. “Thanks for your help.”

You wished each other a goodnight, and soon you were once again within the sanctuary of your room. Managing to summon the will from somewhere, you shimmied out of the dress, draping it over your vanity chair; it was, after all, probably far too expensive to either sleep in or leave in a puddle on the floor overnight. You debated whether or not to take the time to remove your face full of makeup but, God, your bed was just so inviting, you’d deal with the consequences in the morning.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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mistydeyes · 6 months

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therapy pt. ii; treatment and pharmacotherapy

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FIRST read part i here! olivia (@lundenloves) covers the initial therapy portion beautifully and i cannot emphasize how good the characterization of simon is!!

summary: Reeling from the myriad of questions posed by the therapist, Simon is now sent to the second process of therapy: treatment and meds.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, medical terminology + medications, mentions of depression/anxiety/ptsd

a/n: i finally got around to this! this has been in the works since the summer and tbh I fell off with it but olivia's amazing part + pharmacy school rotations really invigorated this back up! hope you enjoy :)

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As Simon exited the stuffy office, he felt defeated. He wanted to escape the confines of the base and forget about all the information he had offered willingly. He hesitated as he eyed the corridor with a glowing red exit sign at the end of it. As if he was thinking aloud, Kaufman’s voice echoed in the hallway.

“The medical wing is the other way,” she called with a laugh, sickly rebounding in the sterile, empty hallway. With balled fists, Simon made the journey to his next destination.

Similar to this morning, the soldiers avoided his gaze and hastily stepped out of his way as he continued. The halls were filled with the sounds of his heavy boots as he saw the large sign signifying the medical wing. He could feel his fist tighten as he reached the closed door. “Captain Blake Isley,” he muttered as he looked at the golden lettering of the plaque. With a moment’s hesitation, he pounded on the wood with three resounding knocks that echoed in the hallway.

“Enter!” he could hear the captain command from the other side of the door. He gripped the cold door knob before entering the sterile office. He blinked slowly and adjusted to the harsh overhead light.

He stood in the cold environment, noting the various bookshelves of medical literature and some certificates displayed on the wall. Captain Isley sat behind a desk, a stack of files in front of her. Simon silently cursed, why did it always have to be a woman?

“You can sit down, Simon,” she replied without glancing up, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” Simon sat himself at one of the two chairs in front of her desk. He almost preferred this over the therapist’s office. First, it was cold and he revealed in the atmosphere. He also enjoyed her lack of interest in his case. Hopefully, he would get some time back and still be able to return to his gym routine.

However, as she pulled out his large case file and typed furiously at her computer, he knew this would be as long as his previous appointment. “Alright,” she said as she looked at him, “let’s get the basics out of the way.” She moved her mouse and he assumed his file was on the screen.

“Can you confirm your height and weight?” Isley asked and Simon couldn’t help but scoff. “Shouldn’t that be in my file there, Captain?” he questioned. “Just confirm for me, Simon,” she replied, “and you can drop the formalities, I’m fine with Doctor.” Simon smiled slightly at her contradiction. “1.93 meters and 100 kilos last I remember,” he replied curtly and she nodded as she continued.

“Great,” she replied sarcastically, “now for the fun stuff.” She pulled out a file that appeared to be his medical and pharmacy records. “I’ll go through these 1 by 1 and you just need to let me know if you’re still taking them,” she said before going line by line.

“Paracetamol?” “Yes, regularly.” Simon settled down in the chair. His frequent visits to the infirmary and pharmacy would make this list a long one. She nodded before moving her finger down to the next line.

“Lemborexant?” He took a moment to think about what that one looked like before he replied. “The sleep one?” “Yes, looks like it’s for your insomnia,” she said, looking down at the manila file. “Mostly when I’m back on base or leave.”

“How about Metaxalone?” “Only on leave.” To this, she raised an eyebrow as she looked up. “You don’t take it regularly?” “No, who wants to take something four times a day.” Simon couldn’t help but feel defensive. That one was the size of a horse pill and it was meant to help with some muscle pain. Despite the relief, he would always leave it behind on long missions. He could work through some pain if it meant that he didn’t have to take cover and swallow another pill.

“Vitamin D?” “When, I remember.” Simon secretly hated this one. It smelled overly like a fish market and he had an entire lecture from his general practitioner to get more sun and to stop wearing his mask.

“Calcium carbonate?” she continued to question and Simon stopped for a moment. “I’m not the doctor here,” he said in a sarcastic tone, “what are those?” She pursed her lips before replying. “TUMS, Simon, do you take TUMS?” “When I need to,” he said and sat back in his chair.

“Alright, and I’ll skip past your other lovely pharmaceuticals as it looks like they correlate to your hospital stays.” Thank god, this session would turn into another fucking hour based on his last few visits.

“You must be a field day at the pharmacy,” she joked and Simon let out a semblance of a laugh. She rifled through some papers in her desk before she spoke again. “Looks like you have some history with fluoxetine, any thoughts?”

He remembered taking it before he enlisted. It was a small, green, and white capsule meant to help with all of his shit. He hated the constant schedule and the sight of these things, eventually deciding to stop it in basic.

“Hated them,” he replied without any further comments. “Why is that?” she asked, taking a moment to look up at him. “The schedule was a nuisance,” he said plainly and she sighed. “That’s a common complaint but looks like you have a schedule now, Simon.” He nodded in response before she looked back down at her papers.

“Simon, have you ever heard of venlafaxine and risperidone?” she questioned. “Never heard of ‘em” he responded and he leaned forward as she handed him a few papers.

The two papers had the two unfamiliar drug names listed on top along with a slew of information. His eyes flickered around at terms like “post-traumatic stress disorder” and “depression.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “I’ll give you the basics and you can read that in your free time,” she stated and he put the papers in his lap.

“Venlafaxine is generally used for treatment of depression and other mood disorders,” Isley began to say and he couldn’t believe he was being prescribed an antidepressant again. “But I’m going to therapy,” he interjected and it sounded more harsh than he had intended. “Think of this as going hand in hand with that,” she stated with a sudden tone of optimism, “they both benefit one another.” He nodded in feigned agreement as it was no use fighting against it.

“Now you’ll want to take these around the same time every day,” she continued and he groaned at the consistent schedule. Just another thing to add to his routine. “You should see improvements in about two weeks but don’t be surprised if it takes a little longer,” she advised and he continued to demonstrate he was listening.

“Alright, now for the other one,” Isley said as she looked at her notes. “Alright, so we’re also starting you on Risperidone,” she stated, “now this also treats mood disorders similar to venlafaxine.” She looked at him as if he should be writing these down but he just continued to nod and attempt to remember the key notes.

“Take this as well once a day around the same time,” she advised and continued with her lecture, “better yet you can take both of them at the same time so you don’t forget!” She took a moment to look over the papers before looking up at him again. “You’ve been quiet, Simon,” she observed and he hated the sudden shift of attention back on him. “Any questions?” she inquired as she stuffed the papers back into his file.

“None, Captain,” he responded flatly, wanting to exit this mini-medication lecture. She raised an eyebrow at him and he coughed out, “Sorry, doctor.” Isley sighed before folding her hands on the table. “Then you’re all set, I’ll have your scripts sent down to the pharmacy.” With that Simon, pushed back the seat and walked towards the door. Just as he was about to exit, the doctor had one last thing to say.

“Oh and Simon, watch your alcohol with this,” Isley spoke and he turned to her, “one drink will feel like five.” He laughed slightly, at least there were some benefits to this new addition to his routine.

The pharmacy was Simon’s final stop of the day. He looked at the analog clock on the wall, 16:00. God, this day was turning out to be a tour of the entire base and all he wanted to do was head to the gym. He stood in the queue and impatiently tapped his boot on the ground. The last thing he needed was this line. But it moved at a snail’s pace as the pharmacist ran around and typed occasionally into the monitor.

Simon was looking down at his phone when he felt someone bump his arm. He looked up and saw Gaz smiling up at him. “Fancy seeing you here,” he chuckled and Simon rolled his eyes. He nodded in response and hoped Gaz would just leave. “Long day?” he continued to question and Simon grunted, trying his best to make minimal conversation. “You can say that,” he muttered and Gaz finally caught on to Simon’s attitude. “Well, I’ll see you around Lieutenant,” he replied before walking off with his bag in hand.

Finally, Simon had reached the front of the queue. He looked back at the clock, half past the hour. “Rushing off somewhere, Simon?” the pharmacist asked and he looked back at her. “No Captain, it’s just been a long day,” he breathed out and she returned a reassuring smile. As Isley postulated, Simon frequented the pharmacy on a monthly basis. She knew him by name and went to pull up his file.

“Got a few new ones, I see,” she replied and Simon nodded in response. “Let me go see if those are ready.” Simon waited as he saw the pharmacist walk to the bins and search for his bag. “Here we go!” she smiled and opened the bag to count out the medication bottles. “Alright, so I have your three here,” she replied, “it’s a shame you aren’t due for your others so I’ll be seeing you next month.” Fucking wonderful, he thought, just another visit to this side of the base.

Before she handed it to him, she took another look at the bag. “Did Isley talk to you about alcohol with these?” she questioned as she looked up at him. Simon met her gaze and nodded. “Got her lecture, Captain,” he replied and she took a deep breath. “Okay good, you got a hefty cocktail here Simon but you didn’t hear it from Pharmacy,” she winked.

As he went to go take the bag, she pulled bag. “Anything else, Captain?” he grumbled, he just wanted his stupid medication that she was forfeiting. “One more thing, but did Isley talk about the fentanyl lollipops you are deployed with?” she questioned yet again. Simon remembered the newest edition to his med-pack, a set of white lollies that contained fentanyl for any injury on the field. “Yeah, got those a while ago,” she hummed as he confirmed her suspicions.

“I’ll make a note here and notify your team but you cannot take those,” she warned, “under any circumstances, you cannot be given those.” He raised an eyebrow at the odd instruction. “What will I die, Captain?” he expressed with doubt. She laughed slightly before replying. “That, or a seizure,” she mused, “or you might just shit your ass out.” It was Simon’s turn to laugh and he waved at her as he exited the pharmacy.

“I’ll be sure to tell Mactavish when I call him, I just know he would find that funny,” she called out and Simon felt his lips curve into a smile. As he held the rattling pill bottles in hand, he tried his best to figure out where to fit it into his routine. No time was ideal but he guessed the morning would suffice. He would need to get a goddamn calendar at the amount of things he was supposed to remember.

Just as he walked back to his quarters, your name popped up on his phone. “Hope you’re doing well :)” you wrote, almost as if you could tell he was having a shit day. Out of therapy sessions, he found value in one thing she focused on. He would be doing this, the therapy and the pills, for you. Not for him or Price or his teammates, he’ll be doing this for you.

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#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #izzie is drawing #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #mw2 #izzie is writing

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notjuststardust · 2 months

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Trellises Lawxchronic pain reader

Reader is having a low spoons and high pain day and doctor Law comes to the rescue! Pure fluff. This is self-indulgent, specifically catered toward those with scoliosis but I thought it was cute so I wanted to share! Just Law and reader being good friends who have eyes for eachother is all.

TW: None

The minute you started scribbling with your non dominant hand Law knew something was wrong. You’d been quiet, a trait normally foreign to your bubbly soft natured self. Your silence could mean an array of things but he had a list of possibilities.

He saw your sunken lids, how they dragged the life from your plump cheekbones all the way down to the blank stare you have the work in front of you. If you were menstruating you’d be snacking and there was nothing in your mouth other than the kiss of teeth.

Propping chin in hand Law tilts his head in your direction, eyes lasered in on your shoulder at rest. A shoulder you had constant trouble with due to surgeries as a kid. “I didn’t know you were left handed.” He comments, not even trying to feign the sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Slowly, you looked up at him through lowered lashes (y/e/c) eyes void of mischief.

“I’m not.” He puffs out a dwarfed scoff, standing from his chair to ease over to your end.

“Have you been sleeping?” He furthers, stalking over to face you, brows propped but you back away from his nearing inquisition. These conversations were never fun.

“Yes.” You answer, evading his eyes to deter his advance but your Captain isn’t allowing that, at least not today and you could tell by the annoyed jut of his lip when he reigned to continue. “6 hours. Yes, I’m drinking water. No, I have not pooped. I took 600 mg’s of ibuprofen and the pain level is an 8 out of 10.” You decide to relent and Law is forced to shut his gaping mouth.

You’d definitely prepared that beforehand. His shoulders slack, drawing toward the medicine cabinet in the far corner. He knows better than to ask why you hadn’t brought it up earlier, you just didn’t want to ‘bother’ him. He could argue but you were past the point of reason and teetering on the edge of crying out.

Now wasn’t the time for one of his ‘talks’.

Propping open the medicine cabinet he searches, body turned to watch in case there was something else you’d been hiding. He flicks through your prescriptions once, twice, three times before he concludes the prescription you needed wasn’t here.

Great.

“Did you put in a refill request?” Your captain drags a hand over his face, pinching the square of his jaw when he peers over at you hunched at his desk. You just stare at him before flitting your gaze toward the door, heaving a sigh and shaking your head.

“I can’t work if I’m on the muscle relaxers. I just wanted pain meds.” You mutter as Law barely restrains an annoyed growl. Even so his teeth grind making you turn away just enough to inform him you were appeasing him instead of advocating.

“That’s the whole point of them. It calms the muscle to make the inflammation go down,” he explains despite your medical knowledge on this matter, after all you had this conversation over a year ago but you were stubborn as a mule when it came to making yourself useful. “I need my scribe in working condition.” He grumbles, pulling a tube of pain reliever from your cubby.

You quiet as he approaches, aware that he’s never referred to you as ‘his scribe’ in his entire life, it was silent endearment to persuade you to be honest. Yet you weren’t sure if you had the heart to be right now.

“I am working though.” You twirl your pen in your non dominant hand, trying and failing to demonstrate the lovely penmanship he so admired you for. Letting out a frustrated sigh Law plucks the utensil from your hand and pops it down into his pen jar, gloving up as if he’s about ready for surgery as he cautiously eyes you over.

You were delicate now. Robbed of good rest and swollen with inflammation however if he didn’t step into his role you’d give until your altar was empty of offerings.

He wasn’t your God but you had always served him and everyone else around you as greater than yourself. This was no different and he couldn’t bare to do nothing about it this time

“Consider yourself on temporary leave then.” He fails to break eye contact in time, but he catches the heartbreak in his peripherals, raw and dependent on him taking it back.

“Law, that’s not fair and you know it-“ you lunge to a stand before your hand shields your shoulder, breaking that confidence.

“And you think working yourself to death is?” He forwards you, body pressuring you back into an appeasing sit in your chair. You don’t answer but your eyes glass and lets his fingers brush your hair over the opposing shoulder and tease your shirt so he can further inspect. “How long?” He asks though he doesn’t have to. It’s swollen like a balloon, redness spreading up the blade of your shoulder to the edge of your neck. He wants you to say it. To admit you’ve been purposefully neglecting yourself to care for everyone else but instead you give a pathetic sniffle before you quiver and break into sobs. Tears trickle down your cheeks and his irritants dissipates into a pool of sympathy only reserved for you.

He tries to get out something, anything that would salve the emotional strain you had been burdened over but no amount of empathy can. He does not have the gift of easing your worries like you do him. If anything his words tend to be a blade to an already festering wound whilst yours carry a melodic ease to even his most persistent emotional aches. You could spin corpses back to life with your words, mold graves into gardens but he only had his hands.

So instead he rolls the numbing cream into the ball of your shoulder with soft thumbs, allowing you the courtesy of a moment to yourself despite the exposition of feelings you’d much rather keep locked up.

It wasn’t your fault that a life saving surgery had left you on the verge of crippling and selfishly, he’d much rather this than your corpse. You’d only been 12 when your spine had started easing further and further into your heart, putting tension against the much needed organ. Metal had been fused into the bones of your spine to keep it straight and that pressure left a considerable strain on your lumbar. Not only that but there was no saving the oblong shift of your shoulders and hips due to the scoliosis.

With that considered you still wanted to be involved, helpful to Law and the crew when your pain had started in the following years. You were a writer and you refused to live your life only in the pages of stories spun with sweet words. You wanted to experience life and even your captain, persistent and logistic as he was, hadn't been able to deter you from your quest.

You quiet at his silent affection, thinking it nothing more than something he has to do for his job but Law knows its more than that. He could have just tossed you the gloves and allowed you to apply the ointment yourself but he wanted to be of service as more then a doctor if even for a moment. He wanted to be of comfort and it must have worked because your tears quieted and you relaxed into his touch.

After all if he voiced that he could have made you do it you would have because you don’t accept outside help.

Hence why any accommodations he had strung for you in the Polar Tang went among the unsaids in the submarine. Normal chairs bothered you yet you had one so Law had instructed Bepo to test it. The thing shattered into broken splintered in minutes and Law hiding behind the guise of a safety check had promised to get you another. What came in the mail though was not a normal chair though. The thing was practically a throne, spun together by chiropractic plush to nurture your back when you used it. When the complexities were mentioned Law had just said it was on sale. You hadn’t questioned it further. After that he had allowed Shachi and Penguin access to your bathroom where they practically made the shower go up in smoke, since it now needed repairs. Law had a sit down shower with a sneaky call button in case you may ever need it. The subtleties did not go so unnoticed with that one and Law had to then install special buttons to all bathrooms from the suggestion of Penguin and Shachi.

You had always had suspicions but never proof and you were smarter then to question your captain based on pure assumption.

“I’ll call in your refill. The earliest it will be here is tomorrow-” Your stillness hushes him, the weight of your cheek just a little too heavy against his knuckles as a little snore slips between your lips. He blinks, leaning up and over to see your mouth wide open and teary eyes slid shut. An impressed ‘hmm’ whisps between his teeth, a grin imperceptible etching into his lips. That's until he realizes if he moves an inch yu’ll wake. He ponders the notion of moving anyway and getting you comfortable on a cot but decides otherwise when he realizes the peace settled on your face.In the end he stays. 1 hour. Then 2 and footsteps explode down the hallway like thunder, the office door squealing open with Shachi in its mirror.

“Captain come on! Dinners read-” He pales like a corpse when Law glares death his way, nervously playing with his fingers as Penguin clops in behind him laughing obnoxiously about God knows what until he too mutes. They both stare at your compromising position, looking to eachother in silent laughter. Well, it wouldn’t have been compromising if it wasn’t you.

There's drool all over Law’s hand, he’s shimmying like some old man trying to get his back ache to go away. Nonetheless he's frozen, steely eyes set in a glacial glare as he quiets out an annoyed sigh. His crewmmates nonsense quiets.”Oh, so she finally told you.” Shachi hums, quarreling with a grin but the intonation gives away his cheekiness.

“Not necessarily,” Law groans, swallowing a blush. “You all knew?” He quirks a curious brow.

“Wild guess.” Penguin hums with an easy shrug, forcing an awkward smile.

“You know that probably even worse for her back, right?” Shachi comments, pointing a finger in his sleeping crewmates direction. Law just gawks, he hadn’t thought your crumple of sleep would leave you feeling worse upon wakeness then none at all. Clearing his throat he scoops his fingers under and up your armpits trying to scoop you safely into his arms.

“Of course I knew that-” Law quiets his rambling when you spurt out a snort. You release a gargantuan yawn. He points and shooes his crewmates that scramble into the hallway but its too late. Your lids are shot open as you smack your lips like a child. Shachi and Penguin make a break for it.

“Know what?” You babble out, eyes alight with the familiar childlike mischief. Sleep had refreshed you well. He threads a rough hand through his hair, a heavy sigh slipping.

“You were sleeping in a position that could compromise your back. I was trying to move you.” He removes the hand resting upon your cheek, trying to discard the soaked glove without your notice. “You really need to be more careful, he scolds when he sees you give him a dopey grin, ignoring his feign of casuality. You look more than stupid, like there are no thoughts behind your eyes, only joy at the mere prospect that his hunchback was caused by holding you up. You’re satisfied as a cat that's knocked over a glass and usually that’d only egg him on but it only forced him to sigh.

At least you weren’t crying anymore. Your smugness couldn’t taint that.

“Did I drool?”

“Immensely.” He rolls his eyes, tossing the glove into the trash as you cackle.

“You been standing there long?” You further, chaos winding you into a smile of all teeth, dimples peeking out like the sun through a rainy storm.

“Long enough.” He groans lightly, a hint of a smirk on his face as he returns your prescription to the medicine cabinet. Then you look toward the clock and realize its been 2 hours. You bark out a laugh, nearly falling out of the office chair.

“You didn’t move for 2 hours?” You snicker wildly and Law plops back into his chair, fingers caging away the blush pelting his cheeks as he looks away to mask embarrassment. “I have slept through raids before, Law.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles, distracting himself with undone paperwork on his desk. “I moved my legs.”

“You’re such a liar.” You shout with glee, lunging into a stand without help as you sniff the air. “Dinner time!” You lean over his desk just to spite him, sticking your tongue out before you hobble toward the door.

“You’re still on temporary leave.” He reminds you with a stern glare, laced with affection at your silliness. He loathes becoming permeable but its far too comfortable when it's with you. You turn to look back at him as if contemplating taking his statement as a personal bullet but don’t, readjusting your back.

“Uh-huh, doesn’t matter. I’ll never let you live it down!” You tease, skipping down the hallway as if you weren’t just in excruciating pain. You’re definitely about to tattle like some little kid and he is going to tolerate it until you inevitably find some other thing he does more strange.

In summary, unless he told you otherwise (or you grew less dense), his little bits of affection would be the running joke of the dinner table.

#Law trafalgar x reader #Trafalgar Law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar one piece #one piece imagine #trafalgar d law x reader

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angryschnauzer · 3 months

Text

19th February 2024

An update.

Hubby has finished his radiotherapy. It seemed like a long 6 weeks, and its taken its toll on him with extreme fatigue. He was also on a mild dose of chemotherapy at the same time, that thankfully didn't come with any side affects such as nausea, but he was on anti sickness meds for that.

He'll now have about 4 weeks off all treatment to allow his body to recover and to try and regain some strength. But during those 4 weeks he'll have some tests and MRI's to see if the tumour is growing back.

Then from mid march he will have 6 rounds of strong chemotherapy, with one week on, three weeks off. This will be a much stronger dose so the nausea side affects may be considerably more than the small dose he had with his radiotherapy.

What we don't know is what the prognosis is. We don't know if he has 6 months, 18 months, 5 years, whatever. And now we aren't told either. They wont be pinned down to a 'you have x amount of months left' because its been found this is much more detrimental to patients mental health (and also their families) as if the patent passes away before then there is resentment that the prognosis was wrong, or if the patient lives longer there is also resentment as to 'why did we rush to do the bucket list' when i actually had more time.

This however is impacting my mental health. The uncertainty of what the future holds, and what plans i can make for the future. There are trips with our son's school that i've had to ask the school to make special exceptions for us with where we'd like a space reserved but can't commit to it. Same with any sort of commitment or plan for the future.

Hubby however is fairly relaxed about it all. I honestly think he thinks its going to be cured. He plans on going back to work from start of March, but working the equivalent of 1 day a week spread over 5 days, so around 2 hours a day. This would be working remotely from home, and i do support this as he needs something to concentrate on, but its hard to imagine what future life is going to be like. He can't drive for another 2.5 yrs (one year after his seizure, and then 2 after radiotherapy because it was on his brain), so he won't be able to commute into the office anyway by car, and he can't go via train as he can't carry a bag because of his reconstruction surgery on his shoulder.

Thankfully his employers have been wonderful about this, and we are covered for the bills financially as well but will have to tighten our belts with a lot of things. I'm still trying to work and keep my business going, but finding the time to do so is tough as i'm now basically a full time carer for two people; my son and my husband. (The government doesn't consider the work i do for them 'enough' to pay an allowance though').

So that's were we're at. We've had a lot of other shit thrown at us since the start of the year too, but its not as important as the situation with my husband so that's what i'll keep you updated on.

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midnightstay-blog · 3 months

Note

hi! from prompt list:

SVT jeonghan fluff 10+36🩷

thanks!

Thanks for being my first request. 😊 I hope you like it. It's my first time writing for Jeonghan. Truthfully I'm still a baby carat for the most part. I hope it's okay that I made it gender-neutral?

💫Sick days ( Requested)💫

Fluff 🌙| Gender neutral reader🌘| Request 💫 | Scenario✨

Genre: Jeonghan x Gender Neutral reader

Theme: Established relationship

Rating: G

Words total: 802

“You’re burning up babe,” Jeonghan stated as he checked your temp for the third time that night.

It had been a few days since you had come home from work complaining of chills and body aches. Your temperature had been in the high for the past two days and it didn’t seem to want to break no matter how much he tried making him more worried than usual. Initially, you had told Jeonghan not to come by afraid of passing the mysterious bug to him and eventually the other members. However, determined to take care of you like the great boyfriend that he was Jeonghan wouldn’t take no for an answer. Fortunately for him though it had snowed the past two days leaving you both snowed in at your place. Not to mention he did manage to bring a bag of assorted meds and soups with him. Digging through the bag he manages to find the 220mg of Tylenol that he had bought the other day. Setting the pill bottle on the bedside table he rises from the bed and walks into the kitchen to retrieve another bottle of water from the fridge before making his way back to the bedroom. Once there he returns to your side and with a brief crack of the lid the water opens. Setting the water to the side he pops open the Tylenol and taps the side of the bottle. Wrapping the blanket around your person you sit up from the bed and take the blue pills from his grasp. Reaching for the water you take both pills before thanking Jeonghan and laying back down. A few moments later you find yourself almost slipping back into a peaceful slumber before you feel another light tap on their leg.

“It’s been a while you should eat something.” Jeonghan stated.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know angel, but you should still eat. It’ll help you keep up your strength.” He urges.

Letting out a deep sigh you nod in agreement before leaning back up against the headboard. “Fine but if I have to eat can it not be soup?” You questioned.

“Sure, anything you want.” he exclaims.

“Anything you say?” You question again this time with mischief in your tone.

A grin makes it’s way on to your features for the first time in a while. Sensing what were about to say he gives you a knowing look.

“Anything but that.” He quickly corrects himself.

“Nope it’s too late you said anything.” You state as you let out a small laugh. “Besides no takebacks.”

“But it’s cold” he wines. “Plus, the nearest convenience store is like a block and a half away.”

“But I’m siiick.” You wine matching his tone. “Plus, I don’t have the ingredients here to make it” “Please” you beg offering him dough eyes.

Not being able to resist he caves and agrees.

“Fine you’re lucky I love you “He stated.

Placing on his winter wear he kisses you on the check before making his way to the store.

Some time later he returns with the ingredients in tow. He even managed to pick up some of your favorite snacks. Setting the bags on the counter he removes his jacket and things before washing his hands and preparing your meal. Once it is complete, he spoons the noodles along with its contents into a bowl and places it on the lightly colored wooden tray before grabbing a second bowl from your cabinet. In that bowl he places a few slices of meat as well as two halves of a soft-boiled egg and one of the snacks. After placing the second bowl on the tray he grabs a can of soda, some utensils, and another bottle of water. He places the other bottle of water under his arm before making his way back to you.

Upon reentering your bedroom, he calls out to you.

“Babe, I got your food.” He states with affection laced in his tone. Not hearing a response, he decides to just place the tray on the other side of the bed before walking over to you.

However, upon reaching your side he notices your sleeping form. He takes a moment to admire your soft features before placing a small kiss on your forehead. Leaning away he briefly places the back of his hand under your chin just to double-check your temp. Noticing that your fever is starting to break he breathes a sigh of relief before deciding to just wrap up your food for you for later. As he starts to pull away you begin to stir in your sleep. In that moment he places his hand on your back and begins to hum softly. After a bit, he manages to exit the room making his way to the couch for the night.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen jeonghan #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x reader #midnightstay blog

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muniimyg · 5 months

Text

NICE GUYS FINISH LAST // KNJ

you’re still so pretty

strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and then.. strangers again?

navi | m. list | ask me! |

pairing:

med student nam joon + med student oc

au/genre:

high school sweethearts to exes to ???

fluff !! slight angst

note: cute little one shot in my drafts… idrk whats going on but it’s giving meet cute vibes!!! enj!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

One thing people never talk about is the loneliness that comes hand-in-hand with being ambitious.

You lose friends, opportunities, and even love.

Feeling the need to prove the world and others wrong—getting so lost in your strength that you’ve become weak—it’s not a life everyone can live. The exchange of your success came at the cost of having your loved ones as collateral damage.

Kim Nam Joon was exactly that for you.

Though you two didn’t end on a sour note, the memories and possibilities of you and him leaves a bittersweet taste in your tongue. Thinking of him, speaking of him, and missing him comes in waves. Yet, with each memory, you gladly drown.

Others argue that you bloomed late while your parents like to defend you and say you’re too good to settle for anyone less. Your parents, however, kept their mouths shut whenever it came to Nam Joon.

They liked him.

He was practically accepted and assumed to be the one you marry… It’s silly, isn’t it? For parents to see stars in their daughter’s eyes at such a young age and understand why.

From what you can remember, he was a quiet nerd who helped others but was also good at identifying when he was being used. There was a difference. He held your bookbag, dropped you off at class, and always sat with you and your friends at lunch. His friends would tease him about how whipped he was for you and your parents would often bicker about how young you two were to be that inseparable.

So when it ended—because nothing at the age of 17 really lasts—he didn’t know if it was over or if it was truly over. Partly because you didn’t sound cold when you asked for space and the distance that grew between you two had given you both time to accept the inevitable. Still, when it happened it felt utterly confusing. For weeks, he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d changed your mind before the summer ended and went on to your separate ways… In case you changed your mind—if a single ounce of you wanted to give the long-distance a fucking try—he had a plan.

The plan.

Calls are to occur every Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday nights. Calling every night might get tiring, but it’s okay if the calls increase due to missing each other.

Good morning texts every day.

Visiting each other should be done through turn-taking. He’ll go to you first.

Fly home every big holiday.

Shit like that.

He wondered if you would change your mind before he[‘d have to force himself to get over you. Then, he wondered if you would even think about changing your mind at all. Until suddenly, he realizes that you never even asked.

You probably never even thought about him.

You two broke up the summer before University. You both told everyone that your dream schools were at opposite ends of the world. Knowing you both could make it; it was hard for others to disagree. However, Nam Joon began to feel a bit of resentment as the breakup became more and more real. Deciding that long-distance would complicate your study and work schedules was a practical decision—but it was not his.

It was yours.

He’s almost certain that the decision was made out of 80% of logic, 5% out of love, and 15% out of insecurity.

You’ve never failed anything in your life. Perhaps, love is no exception.

As the seasons changed, time flew and the breakup felt like a summernight dream. It slowly became a topic that only popped up once in a while, and when it did, you spoke of it like how it felt. It felt kind and sweet. Like the aftertaste of strawberry milk candies and craving for more, like the way you finish a good book where the characters don’t die and nothing feels tragic, but a part of you wishes you hadn’t reached the end. That, if you could, you would reread the pages as if you never knew a thing. You spoke of your puppy love like how love felt; love felt like him.

The peace you’ve made with your feelings for him suddenly begins to panic as a familiar tall and dimple smile greets you. Cheesy to say, but too difficult to deny—all the memories of him begin to flood your mind as he approaches.

With his heart on his sleeve, he stands before you.

“Long time no see, ___.”

His smile is the same.

The way his lips curve perfectly reminds you of how they felt against your neck. He had that habit—smiling into a kiss that is. His hair is shaved, earning a good laugh from you. You’ve never seen him so… Manly?

“Kim Nam Joon,” you gush. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

Offering your hand, he stares at it and chuckles. His shoulders are much broader now, so his body language is much more noticeable. It suits him.

“Too formal, ___.” Nam Joon laughs, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Gently, he places a kiss on your knuckles and squeezes them. To others, this may be forward… To you, it’s just right. He always greeted you like this. A part of your heart is relieved he hasn’t changed that much. “But, yeah... It has been a while. 6 years to be exact!”

“You kept count?” Your eyebrows knit together, teasingly. He gives you a playful irritated look, causing your heart to melt a little.

“You know what I mean… I just—I didn’t know you were back in Korea. You don’t use social media so it’s a little hard to hear anything about you.”

To his dismay, it was difficult to get any news from you. Nam Joon would be lying if he said he hadn’t been asking around about you or if he hadn’t stayed up once in a while attempting to find your name on social media. Your closest friends moved on with their lives and careers; no one had time to reminisce on old high school sweethearts.

Except him.

“I finished my degree and then came back here for this med program. That was my plan, remember? It was always the plan. Nothing has changed,” you confess. “I thought you’d be way further into med school than me. You always talked about getting it done as fast as possible.”

He shrugs. “I took a gap… For like, 2 years and then failed 1 course… Twice.”

In complete shock, you gasp. “Kim Nam Joon… Failed? Twice at that?”

“It was a tough class! I fucking hate Psychology. Why do we even need it in pre-med? Like—”

You burst into tears. Tears of joy. Laughter, really.

“Y-you failed… P-psych? The easiest fucking course in the universe?”

Nam Joon shoots you a glare.

“My prof was crazy.”

“So are you for failing a fucking psych class!”

Nam Joon lets you have your moment. You continue to laugh, having a difficult time believing in his claim. As you continue to make fun, he makes himself comfortable, taking a seat next to you.

“Are we done? Can we please move on?” Nam Joon groans in embarrassment.

Composing yourself, you give in to his wish. “Some things never change, huh? You still make me laugh.”

His eyes soften. “You’re mean for using my failure as your source of joy.”

Then, you laugh again. You hit his shoulder, unable to contain your fun. Then, your eyes widen as your hand makes contact with his body.

Unhinged, you tell him, “Holy shit. You’re huge!”

Nam Joon’s eyes widen and he almost chokes on air.

You turn red.

“Y-you know what I mean!” You shove him playfully. It makes no difference. You barely moved him.

Nam Joon then begins to empty his bag. Taking out his laptop, he explains himself. “Ahhh. I met a few friends who are absolute gym rats. If I’m not studying, I’m at the gym with them.”

Teasingly, you gasp again. “Ohhh? So I have no insane drinking party stories to hear from you?”

Shaking his head with a smug smile, he answers you. “No.. There are definitely some insane drinking party stories for you to hear… Maybe after class? We could grab a cup of coffee and catch up.” He suggests. He isn’t sure what had gotten into him to be so rash, but he missed you. Seeing you again, his body automatically made its way to you.

You nod, feeling a little warm. “Sure! I’ve missed you.”

His heart skips a beat.

He missed you too.

The coffee hangout goes well.

You catch Nam Joon up with everything you’ve been up to. All the friends and people you’ve met abroad and how you finally learned how to ride a bike at the ripe age of twenty. He teases you for learning so late and you nag him about getting his driver’s license. To which, he said he acquired… Just a month ago.

At that moment, he feels like nothing has changed even though so much has.

You were braver.

A lot more confident with your words and posture and Nam Joon was calmer and oddly a little funnier than you remember. Maybe you missed his quirky jokes and random “fun facts.” Whatever it was, it caused you to exchange numbers and constantly be texting back and forth.

Suddenly, two months go by, and he’s back to being your best friend.

You feel like you’re 17 again. Your days with him are filled with late-night study dates and bike rides around his favorite spots on campus. Honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in a while, you finally felt like you were home.

Finally, he had persuaded you to join him and his friends at the gym. Your AirPods are in and you’re running on the treadmill as Jungkook, Seokjin, and Nam Joon crowd around the weights. Nam Joon is spotting Jungkook. As he lifts the heavyweights, Jungkook strikes the conversation first.

“Are you two getting back together?”

“What?”

“You and ___,” Jungkook grunts as he finishes his rep. “Everyone is assuming so and I want to be the first one with confirmation... Makes me feel special.”

Nam Joon rolls his eyes and turns to check on you. With longing eyes, he assures his friends: “we’re just friends.”

Seokjin pokes his head in and laughs. “Shut up. Being funny is my thing.”

“Seriously!” Nam Joon urges. “Sure, we talk about the past and all but.. Not about us—nothing about us. And.. And I don’t think she wants to? It’s weird… And it’s okay. I rather it is like this than to make things awkward and not have her around anymore.”

Jungkook drops the weights and sighs.

“Ahh! Exactly my point!”

He and Seokjin share a look and bump shoulders with Nam Joon. They’re completely aware of how their friend was looking at the girl he had loved once and can’t help but feel like something about this situation felt unfinished.

“This is fate, you know?” Jungkook insists. “You two were in love and then it wasn’t the right time so you guys broke up. You guys were young back then… It was practical. But, she’s back and you still love her. It’s the right time. Now, this is the part where you try again.”

Nam Joon can’t help but feel like an idiot.

“Fuck off, Kook,” Nam Joon orders. “It’s over. I’m lucky to even just be her friend again. Besides, she probably has a boyfriend.”

Seokjin squints at Nam Joon in disbelief. “... Well, have you even asked her if she’s seeing someone?”

All three boys look dumbfounded.

No one knows what to say.

Would it be weird to ask such a thing? Of course, Nam Joon was curious, but a part of him kind of figured that talking about your current relationship status wouldn’t be the best icebreaker for you two.

“Look man, it doesn’t matter. You’re her ex. Her first boyfriend ever! You have rights.” Jungkook encourages. He picks up his water bottle and begins to chug.

Seokjin hits Jungkook’s stomach mid-gulp. “Rights? Kook, I think that’s for people who have kids and are having difficulty co-parenting—”

“He has rights!” Jungkook defends sternly. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he pats Nam Joon on the back. “Just ask her if she’s seeing someone… If not, ask her out. Try again.”

“What makes you think I want to try again?” Nam Joon scuffs and his two friends roll their eyes.

Jungkook and Seokjin share a look.

“You have been missing her your entire life. She’s back. A few giggles here and there and you ditch us for two months straight… Only to reach out and invite her to our gym to work out with us! No shade, but this is bro time!” Jungkook cries. “Also, you talk about it all the time when you’re 7 shots in. You haven’t had a girlfriend… Since her, right? Just hook-ups and a few flings… But no one is like her and that’s probably why.” Then, Jungkook hits Nam Joon’s head and sighs.

“No one is her.”

The three turn their attention to you. Two guys approach you and begin a conversation. Nam Joon observes and it causes Jungkook and Seokjin to chuckle.

“Time is ticking my friend. Tik tok, tik tok…” Jungkook makes an effort to let out a devious laugh. Nam Joon’s eyes begin to glow green and it satisfies his two friends. “Nice guys finish last… Ex boyfriends finish first!”

Jungkook leans towards Seokjin and whispers: “Looks like someone will be pulling ex-boyfriend card soon.”

With that, Seokjin and Jungkook switch. Seokjin lifts the weights and Jungkook helps to spot him. Nam Joon should look away, but he can’t. His eyes are glued to the way you’re laughing at the two boys who are trying too hard to impress you.

Mid lift, Seokjin teases Jungkook.

“You used the term “bro time,” right? You’re such a fucking loser, Kook.”

Nam Joon felt different though.

He felt like the fucking loser.

Nam Joon doesn’t call or text you as often as he did before.

Since that gym session, he had begun to act a little distant. Like he was trying to set boundaries or something. It felt odd that his actions felt familiar. You felt a little ache in your heart and your head hurt.

The past few weeks have not been easy for Nam Joon as well. He felt like an absolute dick for ignoring your warmth. He tried to excuse it by saying that he was too busy with his assignments and studying. So badly does he want to pull away from you; but it felt draining. He wanted to be near you and the fear of you not wanting him back was definitely taking a toll on him.

It was confusing though.

In the middle of the night, he’d come over once to give back your textbooks in exchange for a few of his hoodies. It didn’t feel real seeing him at midnight. Some nights, he’d come over a little damp from the midnight rain. As you let him into your place, all you can think to yourself is: damn. I think I’m still in love with this man.

So, yes.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. With each passing day, his presence made you nervous. If his coming over at midnight wasn’t bad enough—it was the 9am’s with him that was worse. It was more about how close you two sat next to each other and how intimate these labs were. With each little moment of fingertips brushing, bumping into each other and him steadying you with his hands on your waist, and the little nose scrunch exchanges—the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy.

Fine.

Maybe you did fail once in your life.

You failed to be honest. You failed to fight for him. You failed to be someone to him that stays.

Nam Joon wasn’t having much fun either.

You’ve always been so pretty to him. He especially loved whenever you two had study dates because he could watch you furrow your eyebrows, reread the same sentences, and mumble formulas and concepts to yourself over and over again. If he was lucky, he’d look up at the right time and catch you sighing from frustration. Your puffy cheeks and sleepy eyes made his heart soft and confused. To him, it was enchanting to see you so invested.

Kind of like right now.

As you look into the microscope, he can’t help but feel nervous. He wants to reach out and move your hair to the side. It’s bothering you and he can tell. He wants to do it, but he hesitates.

It would be too much, right? He would be crossing the line—especially since you’re the one that broke things off with him.

His thoughts pause as you pull away and blink at him.

“Oh, shit! I have an interview at a clinic nearby so I can’t stay to help clean up after this. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you before we began—“

“___, it’s okay. Go do your thing. I hope you get it.”

Warmly, you smile at him.

“Thanks, baby—Nam Joon,” you correct yourself, throwing your head back and laughing nervously. In exchange, he stares at you blankly. You clear your throat, trying your best to move past this. “Sorry! For a second, I thought you were my boyfriend again.”

He brushes it off and tells you it’s okay. Again, you go back to looking into the microscope. Focusing on adjusting the lens and pulling away every so often to make notes.

“Me too,” he says softly.

Then, you feel it.

He tucks your hair behind your ears. You pretend like his touch didn’t send electric shocks throughout your body and ignore it. Your cheeks instantly flush a rosy pink and spill your secret.

Nam Joon chuckles, completely in awe of you.

You’re still so pretty to him.

You’re still his.

#bts fic #bts fic rec #bts one shot #nam joon x yn #bts rm #bts rm fic #nam joon x reader #nam joon x oc #bts x oc #nam joon med au #bts med au #nam joon fluff #nam joon imagine #nam joon scenario #namjoon e2l #bts e2l

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liliumsabyss · 1 year

Note

I have never made a request before because I’m usually happy to browse, but seeing that Newt from Maze Runner is on your character list (if you no longer write for him that’s fine) and there’s not a lot of works with newtxreader let alone a male reader I’d love it if you could write something about Newt getting jealous when Thomas comes up in the box and asks about the reader. Please don’t feel pressured either way what I think you’re doing is amazing since there’s not enough male reader representation out there. All the love to you ❤️

Jealousy

FEM DNI, I SWEAR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Newt(TMR) x Male Reader

Word Count: 1.226k

Tw: Jealousy, mentions of slight possessiveness, oblivious to flirting, hasn't been edited by my mod, and maybe out of character Newt?

A/n: Hello, I'm very sorry it took me this long to fulfil your request! You are incredibly sweet! Thank You so much! I'm truly grateful that you have put in a request, and once again, I'm truly sorry it took me this long. I had so much fun writing this, and it has honestly been one of the pieces I've loved writing the most, so thank you for that. I write for any character on my character list, and more off it, I love Newt so much, so this made me incredibly happy for someone to ask! And also all the love to you, you seem like a genuinely sweet person and thank you once again for delighting me with this and putting in a request, especially such a sweet one!

Newt had been guiding the new boy who had come up in the box; he was tall with dark hair and deep brown eyes the male had clearly still been in a confused stupor as he followed the other around the glaze, his adrenaline pumping as he was constantly looking and asking questions to the blonde who happily answered them. However, as soon as the two males passed in front of the med-jack hut, which was several yards away, Thomas stopped in his tracks, looking at the “porch” of the building, which was more or less a poorly branched mat that had a canopy shading it. On the porch, there sat one of the other gladers on a chair while a (h/c) haired male with stunning (e/c) eyes peered down compassionately toward the glader in the chair as his (s/c) hands daintily wrapped the other male's upper arm with bandages tying a small bow to ensure the wrappings stayed in place before giving the other a smile and sending him on his way. Newt's gaze softened, seeing the (h/c) haired male. Thomas was staring curiously towards the same male.

“ Who’s that?” Thomas finally spoke up, snapping Newt out of his lovestruck trance.

“ Oh that's (Y/n) he's the keeper of the med-jacks.” Newt said his gaze never left from the said male as his chest filled with pride at his lover’s accomplishments.

“ So he takes care of the injured…?” Thomas' voice trailed off questioningly as the blonde turned to look at Thomas, confused at the obviousness of the statement.

“ Yes…” Newt responded, trailing off, his eyes hardened, looking suspiciously at the other.

“ So if I got injured, he would take care of me?” The dark-haired male said with a subtle hint of excitement in his voice, only making Newt’s eyes squint in suspicion more.

“ In theory, yes.” The blonde responded carefully as he felt a small seed of jealousy buried in his stomach. He tried to brush it off as maybe only jealousy.

“ Is he in a relationship with anyone?” Thomas asked curiously, rubbing the back of his neck and looking back towards the (h/c) haired male once again. The seed that had been planted in Newt’s started to grow as he could feel the jealousy grow, he began to glare at the other, about to mention his relation with (Y/n), only for Minho to come over.

“ Hey, Newt! I just need to talk with the greenie for a little bit. See you later!” Minho said, dragging Thomas away before Newt could state anything more. Newt turned towards the (h/c) haired male in the distance, ready to go to talk to him, only to have Alby call for him, dragging his attention away and requiring his assistance. Newt started to walk away, his one leg causing a small limp, before looking over his shoulder one last time and seeing his lover tell some of the other gladers to bring in the new supplies.

Newt had been occupied by Alby all day, trying to help around the glaze and stop some of the boys (mostly Gally and his group) from doing something stupid. Before long, the sky turned dark, and many fires were being started to light the glaze. Newt began to go once again toward the med-jack hut, but he stopped mid-step when he saw Thomas and (Y/n). Thomas was speaking happily with the (h/c) haired male said, the male was laughing at whatever Thomas was saying. Thomas had a noticeable blush that was even obvious from where Newt was standing. The blonde was in disbelief how could anyone like someone after meeting them once again, he didn’t really have a say, after all, he was the same with (Y/n). Newt’s stomach twisted with jealousy as he started to make his way towards the pair, his fist slightly clenched and unclenched.

“ Newt!” (Y/n) called out with a wide smile on his face turning around to see the blonde. Thomas turned towards the blonde, waving his hand slightly but retracting as he saw Newt's glare directly aimed at him, but it softened when he looked at the (h/c) haired male. Newt, as quickly as he could, made his way over to the pair.

“ Hey-“ Thomas started but retracted as Newt glared daggers into him, the blonde was quick to embrace (Y/n), his arms snaking around the other male's waist as he stepped behind him, leaning to rest his head on the (h/c) haired males shoulder turning to kiss him on the jaw. (Y/n) chuckled at the uncharacteristic behaviour of the other, turning his head slightly to look at Newt but quickly looking back at Thomas, who was just standing there awkwardly, realizing his errors over the course of the day. Newt, unhappy with the lack of attention, started peppering kisses on his lover's neck and jaw. The receiving of the actions was slightly confused but gladly accepted the affection.

“ Oh, so you…are together?” Thomas said with a hint of disappointment in his voice, but it was very subtle that only Newt could detect. Newt glared at Thomas while the (h/c) haired male, oblivious to the advances and silent war Newt was raging, smiled and nodded.

“ Yup, we’ve been together from the time I came up in the box”, (Y/n) responded happily, nodding his head towards the box as Newt's grasp got slightly tighter.

“ Yes, we have been together for a very very long time and plan to be together for a long time as well,” Newt said with a ghost of a smirk on his face. The insinuation, still after all this time, had made (Y/n) feel flustered and butterflies rise in his stomach despite the fact that they had already talked about it numerous times and agreed upon it. Thomas, taking the hint, nervously rubbed the back of his neck once again before mumbling that he needed to go discuss something with Minho and ran off. (Y/n) now turned towards the uncharacteristically clingy blonde.

“Now, Newty,” The (h/c) haired male said affectionately but crossed his arms, giving Newt a really look, “ what was that for?”

Newt only pouted slightly and looked down in slight embarrassment and shame.

“ We’re you perhaps jealous…?” (Y/n) said, chuckling a little bit at the other's reaction. Newt only looked down more, burying his head into the other shoulder further. (Y/n) gave the other a quick peck on the head, causing the blonde's head to shoot up and look at the other.

“ Oh Newt, you don’t have to be jealous, you know I only have eyes for you and you alone ever since I got to this place.” (Y/n) said sweetly with a smile that could melt the coldest winters.

“I know, love, I'm sorry I just… couldn’t help it.” Newt said, ashamed and embarrassed with his overly protective behaviour displayed earlier.

“ Hey, you don’t have to be sorry I just wanted to make sure you know I love you.” The other responded back, hugging their arms around Newts, whose were secured tightly around his waist.

“ I know I love you too, love,” Newt responded back, smiling at the other, who smiled back. The couple stood there in amicable silence, embracing one another and staring at the stars.

#x male reader #male reader #Newt x male reader #tmr x male reader #TMR #newt tmr #gay #the maze runner

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underground-secret · 8 months

Text

The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x Fem! reader

Description: A small town where dark secrets unfold isn’t anything new to these seasoned hunters, except when it has something to do with urban legends…apparently.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions/talk of suicide, mentions of gruesome death, eye bleeding, Blood Mary (idk if this would be a warning but like 🤷🏼‍♀️), mentions of murder, witchy stuff

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra ,@fablesrose

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out again my AP class is really AP-ing and has taken up literally all my time. I spent four days working on a 20 pages packet that took forever meaning I had zero time for this. Again so so sorry.

Word count: 7,719

Bloody Mary

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

“Sam, wake up.” Dean nudges the man in question, the car in park.

Sam wakes, confused, he sits up and looks around. “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one.” Dean confirms, and I nod too a frown on my face.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam offers

“Sam” I stretch out his name, “that cannot be your positive to this.”

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” Dean adds.

But Sam ignores us, avoids the whole conversation, “Are we here?”

Dean lets him avoid the whole ordeal and I have to wonder how long he will let his brother lie. Though I guess I'm no better. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

Sam picks up a newspaper that sat on the console of the car, the obituary of Steven Shoemaker circled.

‘The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemarker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday, [...] 31 at 2:00 p.m. at the Toledo [...] and cherish you [...] Your [...]’ The article read.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam asks us.

“That's what we're gonna find out.” Dean answers, turning off the car. “Let's go.”

We exit the car, entering the large hospital building that stood in front of us walking up to the two desks that lie in the room. One of them is empty with a name tag that reads, ‘Dr. D. Feiklowicz.’ The other one however was occupied by a Morgue technician in blue scrubs, “Hey” the man greets us as we approach.

“Hey.” Dean answers back.

“Can I help you?” The technician asks, looking between the three of us.

“Yeah. We're the, uh...med students.” Dean lies.

“Sorry?” The man asks back.

“Oh, Doctor—“ Dean stammers over the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemarker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The tech informs us.

“Oh well he said, uh—“ Dean sighs, “—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.” He tells us, gesturing to the seats on the side of the room.

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” Dean looks at me and Sam as if queuing us to lie with him.

“Yeah.” Sam and I say at the same time, “Jinx” I mumble underneath my breath just loud enough for Sam to hear me who in return gives me a scrunched face.

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—“ Dena explains getting cut off by the man in scrubs, “Uh, look, man...no.”

Dean laughs a little. He turns around to face us, mumbling, “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

But I mean we can’t really blame the guy he’s just doing his job.

Sam hits his brother on the arm, taking a step in front of him he opens his wallet and pulls out some twenties. He lays a few of them, at least five, down on the desk. The Morgue Tech picks up the money, “Follow me.”

The technician gets up and leaves. I go to follow, seeing in the corner of my eye Dean grabbing Sam when he too tries to follow, forcing me to stop and go back a step to see what they are on about.

“Dude, I earned that money.” Dean complains.

“You won it in a poker game.” Sam clarifies.

“Yeah.” Dean answers.

Sam rolls his eyes, pulling away from his brother to follow the technician.

“You’ll make it back” I say, patting Dean on the back shortly to go follow the morgue man.

Dean stays back a half a second before following after us.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Sam said as the Morgue Tech pulled back the sheet over Steven’s face. Revealing a pale, long faced man with dark hair, blood stained on his cheeks below his eyes as if he had cried them.

“More than that. They practically liquefied.” The tech scuffs.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks him.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.” He answers.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam questioned.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.” He replied.

“You mean like cerebral bleeding?” I ask, wanting to clarify.

“Yeah. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.” He responded.

“The eyes & mash;what would cause something like that?” Sam asked.

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” The technician explains.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean scuffs.

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.” The tech shrugs.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.” Dean requests.

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” He answers, stretching out ‘that.’

Sam sighs clearly annoyed, as he pulls out his wallet.

Now leaving the hospital, walking down the stairs Sam suggests, “Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing.”

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean points out.

“Uh, almost never.” Sam answers.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, let's go talk to the daughter.” I announce”

We walk into Steven’s funeral, a picture of him on the desk.

All the men in the room are wearing black suits and the women adorned in black dresses, everyone except us. Dean points this very fact out, “Feel like we're underdressed.” I nod in agreement, my lips in a tight line, the guilt of interrupting these people’s mourning with not only us being undressed but also for not having a reasonable explanation of us being here.

But no one stops us as we keep walking through the house, all the way towards the back and outside to the backyard.

A man points us towards Donna and Lily Shoemarker, the daughters of the man we had seen on a metal table only moments before, who are standing near two people whom I can only assume is a friend or family member.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean greets the eldest daughter as we approach the group of people.

“Yeah.” She answers sadly brushing her short brunette hair out of her face.

“Hi, uh—we're really sorry.” Sam says.

“Thank you.” She replies, and I know she must have heard that same phrase of ‘i’m sorry’ and must have answered the same ‘thank you’ over and over to each person here. As if the death of her father hadn’t broken what’s inside her enough.

“I'm Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/N. We worked with your dad.” He explains.

She looks at one of the adults near her and then back at us, “You did?” And I feel bad for lying to her about this to give her a connection to her father that had never existed.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.” Dean goes on.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now” One of the men with her say, stepping in.

“It's okay. I'm okay.” Donna says, with a sharp nod.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asks, listing out various options.

“No.” She says simply.

Lily, the youngest daughter, turns around, “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

“Lily, don’t say that.” Donna snaps.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset.” Donna explains.

“No, it happened because of me.” Lily speaks up.

“Sweetie, it didn't.” Donna tries to convince.

“Oh Lily”, I say sadly crouching down to be closer to her eye level, “What makes you think that?” I knew what it felt like to blame yourself for someone else’s death, especially your parents, especially when it happens twice and you're too young to understand why this would happen to you. I feel the eyes of the people around me bore into me, especially from the brothers behind me.

“Right before he died, I said it.” Lily answers.

“Said what?” I ask her.

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” She explains, pausing, “She took his eyes, that's what she does.” My eyes go wide, not exactly expecting that answer.

“That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.” Donna reasons.

“I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?” Dean offers, giving the kid some logic to combat what she believes.

“No, I don't think so.” Lily answers. But I know it will take her years to really believe it wasn’t her fault, if ever.

Saying ‘bye’ to the grief rickened family we head back inside the house, but instead of truly leaving we sneak upstairs, approaching the bathroom.

Sam pushes the door open, dried blood stained to the white tiled floor, “The Bloody Mary legend...Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of.” Dean answers, him and I trailing in after Sam who stoops to the floor touching the dried blood, “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

I grimace, why would he touch the blood?

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.” Dean offers.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asks and we both shrug, Dean opening the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—“ Sam looks at the medicine cabinet mirror, it now facing him, he closes it before continuing, “The person who says you know what gets it. But here—“

“Mr.Shoemaker gets it instead” I finish his sentence.

“Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out.” Dean adds.

“It's worth checking in to.” Sam concludes, as we leave the bathroom.

“What are you doing up here?” A blonde woman stops us, the same woman who was comforting the daughters outside.

“We—we, had to go to the bathroom.” Dean lies, poorly, because it makes perfect sense for three people to be using a private bathroom all at once.

“Who are you?” She asks us, naturally not accepting the poorly down lie.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.” Dean confirms.

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.” She counters, and we should really start researching these people before we make up lies of how we know them.

Dean tries to cover, “No, I know, I meant—“

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” She tells us, leaving no more room for any nonsense.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.” Sam begins.

“Yeah, a stroke.” She answers.

“But it isn’t a typical sign of stroke, it might be something else.” I say softly, ashamed for suggesting such a thing to someone who has no knowledge of our world. These people are going through so much the last thing they need is some random people questioning what they know, I wouldn’t blame her if she did scream.

“Like what?” She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her.

Sam explains this time probably sensing my unease with all this, “Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.”

Dean tilts his head, “So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead.” My eyes widened, snapping to look at him, and suddenly that unease I felt vanished, replaced by a burning hot feeling that rushed through my veins and brought a flush to my face. I gulped, trying to push down the feeling a simple sentence that wasn’t even directed towards me made me feel. The cockiness it held as well as the allowance in his voice…it shouldn’t have affected me, and really shouldn’t have created a burning-longing in my gut.

“Who are you, cops?” The woman questions us, but my eyes haven’t left Dean as if he was light and I a moth.

I catch Sam and Dean looking at each other, speaking without words, in my peripheral vision. “Something like that” Dean answers.

It’s then that Dean must have felt my gaze on him, my lips slightly agape as I looked at him through my lashes. His attention turned to me as Sam continued the conversation that I had long blanked out of. Dean looked me over, eyes trailing over my very being, only worsening the burning I had felt within. His eyes met mine again giving me that devilish smirk of his, I swallowed again my eyes falling to his lips.

Sam clears his throat, nudging his brothers hard enough that he knocks into me slightly. Effectively catching our attention.

“Let’s go” He tells us, the woman still in front of us this time her attention to a small piece of white paper that I assume has some sort of contact information on it.

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—Like a local woman who died nasty.” Dean begins as we walk into the oddly dark library, the stale smell of cleaning products surrounding us.

“Yeah but Blood Mary is a widespread legend with tons of versions of who she actually is, with no clear answer. There’s the mutilated bride, a spirit conjured to tell the future, a witch, and a whole lot more” I answer.

“All right so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asks.

“Well in every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers—public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.” Sam adds, answering.

“Well that sounds annoying” Dean admits.

“No it won't be so bad, as long as we…” Sam trails off looking over to the table lined with computers all that say ‘Out of Order’, he chuckles “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

We quickly turned around, heading back to the motel we were staying at to do our research there. Dean sat leaning with his head on his hand on the small table in the room on his brother's laptop. The younger brother in question had fallen asleep on one of the beds, the rustling of the sheets giving away the fact he was tossing and turning. I however sat crisscrossed on the other bed Deans to be specific, not like he cared anyways, researching on my laptop trying to find any relevant info on a Mary in this town or deaths relating to mirrors.

“Why'd you let me fall asleep?” Sam suddenly speaks up, voice evident with sleep.

“Cause I'm an awesome brother” Dean scoffs, he’d never admit it was really because Sam hadn’t been able to sleep or at least sleep long for the last couple of weeks.

“And what’s your excuse Y/N?” Sam questions me, leaning on his side with one arm propped up.

“You were sleepy!” I admit simply, smiling at him. He rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“So what did you dream about?” Dean asks him, though what he was really asking was ‘did you have another nightmare?’

“Lollipops and candy canes.” He answers sarcastically. So sassy and for what?

“Yum” I reply, my eyes going back to my laptop.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks us.

“Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean huffs, making Sam sit up, “No. We’ve looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary.”

Sam falls back on the bed, the crisp sheets making a ‘whoosh’ noise beneath him, “Maybe we just haven't found it yet.”

“Thing is, there’s also been no strange deaths in the area, no other eyeball bleeding. Nothing. Which you know is good in hindsight but not quite helpful for us.” I explain.

Dean adds on, “Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary.”

Almost as if on cue Sam’s phone rings, he answers, still laying down. “Hello?”

Charlie, the blonde woman who questioned us before, sat on the park bench slightly hunched. I sat next to her to offer some comfort, while Dean sat on the back on the bench, his leg nearly brushing my back.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone.” Charlie nearly sobbed, having explained everything that happened with her friend Jill.

Jill, who had wanted to tease the blonde women about believing in such a legend, saying the name in the mirror and winding up dead. Her death being in the same manner as Mr. Shoemaker.

“I'm sorry.” Sam answered, eyebrows scrunched together.

“And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?” She whimpered, using the back of her hands to clear the wetness from her cheeks.

“You aren’t insane” I tell her clearly.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse.” She whines and I try to not let it hurt me, because she's griefing, even though it does.

“Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained” Sam explains. Dean adding, “And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help.”

Dean lifts me up again, this time to reach an elevated first floor window rather than a fence. His hands sliding from tight around my hips, to brushing down my thighs as he lifts me in reach of the window sill. The window wasn’t that high to reach in the first place but with my height, amidtely being shorter than both the boys, it wasn’t exactly comfortable or super easy to reach the window and pull myself up and in.

My hands grasp the cold white window sill, my rings clinking against the surface as I pull my body up. I swiftly slide my hips sideways making my butt land on the sill, in the same sort of movements you would use when you lift yourself out of a pool.

I move my legs inside the carpeted room, ducking slightly as to not hit my head on the open window. The room belonged to Jill, and as my feet hit the soft gray carpet I officially feel the disgust of intrusion creep up on me.

I slide off the windowsill moving into the room more, Sam quickly taking my place near the window to pick up the duffle Dean threw up at him. He catches it, putting it on the bed and immediately digging through it.

“So what did you tell Jill’s mom?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, the uncomfortability of being in someone’s bedroom let alone a dead girls bedroom crawling up my skin and in my bones.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things.” Charlie answers looking between us and the door nervously. Dean climbs through the window shutting the curtain behind and Sam pulls something out of the bag. “I hate lying to her” Charlie adds.

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights” Dean orders.

She goes over to the lights, “”What are you guys looking for?

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it.” Dean hums.

Sam hands him a camcorder on and ready, the object he got from the duffel, “Hey, night vision.” He recalls prompting the older brother to do so, his face scrunched with focus as he finds the button.

“Perfect.” Sam smiles.

The little screen of the camcorder is facing Dean, in a ‘selfie’ like mode, “Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He smiles.

I laugh, slapping a hand to his upper arm on instinct, “Sure you do, baby” I joke, the pet name not something I ever use slipping from my tongue before I could realize. His head turns to give me an amused and smug smirk. In his distractment Sam takes the camera back, going over to the closet door filming around the mirror.

“So I don't get it. I mean...the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?” Sam asks out loud.

“Beats me.” Dean answers, focusing back on the situation at hand. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie reasons.

“Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.” Dean replies.

Sam wandered into the bathroom now, looking at the mirror there. “Hey!” He calls out, getting us to turn and look at him. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

Dean immediately went off to go get it coming back rather swiftly, just as Sam placed the mirror on Jill’s bed laying it upside down after having carried it from the bathroom. With the black light now in hand, he peels off the brown paper that’s on the back of the mirror, shining the purple light on its back revealing a handprint and the name ‘Gary Bryman.’

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie reads out loud both as an acknowledgment and also a question.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask her.

“No.” She answers simply.

Back on the bench, in nearly the same positions, Sam recalls his findings. “So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

“Oh my God.” Charlie gasps, horror in her eyes as she covers her mouth.

“What?” I ask the question we’re all thinking.

“Jill drove that car” She answers. Without looking for confirmation I know the boy's eyes are wide too, but there’s no room for the talking that comes after shock.

“We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.

Somehow, with the help of Charlie, we convinced our way into Donna’s house back up to the bathroom we were in only hours before.

Hunched over the mirror with the black light, our suspicions were correct. There’s a handprint, one I have to say looks like the one in Jill’s bathroom, but I'm no criminologist. This time the name ‘Linda Shoemaker’ is written on it.

We all look at each other, knowing it’s likely that Steven killed his wife hence why Bloody Mary went for him and not the young girl who chanted her name. But the only way to have any idea of this theory is correct is to ask the brunette teenager downstairs.

“Why are you asking me this?” Donna asks us.

“I’m really sorry, Donna, but this is important.” I try to explain, but I know it won’t make sense to her. I mean we are total strangers asking her uncomfortable questions about her dead mother.

“Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it.” She fumes, eyebrows scrunched together in fury, “I think you should leave.”

“Now Donna, just listen.” Dean reaches a hand up, as if to motion ‘calm down.’ But it doesn't work. Teary eyed and a little red in the face she yells, “Get out of my house!” Swiftly she runs up the stairs, not giving us another option.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie asks, finally picking up on our theory.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs.

“I think I should stick around” Charlie announces, referring to staying with Donna, which is probably a good idea.

“All right. Whatever you do, don't—“ Dean tries to warn getting cut off, “Believe me, I won't say it.”

The crisp smell of old books and, oddly, cinnamon fill my nose as I take a deep breath, flexing my hand as I work out the cramping from writing a little too intensely in my small journal.

Dean sits next to me on the cold metal chairs in the library we decided to research in (different to the original one we were at), he’s typing away on the clunky computer the library has. Sam’s staring off at a bulletin board behind us with all sorts of things on it.

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” He asks Dean, alerting us of him coming back to his seat on the other side of his brother.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database��at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.” Dean answers.

“But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town.” Sam points out.

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—“ Dean explains and as much as I love him I cut him off.

“Well, Mary’s victims have a pattern, which I know you guys already know so I'll just cut to the good part. Both victims had secrets relating to where people died and, here’s the good part, there’s a lot of folklore on mirrors, specifically that mirrors are a reflection of your soul. And with that your secrets and lies are revealed to the mirror.

Fun Fact! It was the Romans who believed that the soul would regenerate every seven years, so if you broke a mirror then you’d have to wait seven years until your soul was cleansed of the bad luck and misfortune.

And while I have more fun facts about mirrors I will end it there.” I smiled, satisfied with my information vomit as well as my fun fact because fun facts are wonderful.

Both boys look at me strangely, a mix of confusion and what I think is amazement (they should be amazed cause that was a really great fun fact). Dean seems to shake it off, “Right. So if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.”

Sam adding, “Whether you're the one that summoned her or not.”

“Correcto!” I answer, and by correct I mean that’s what I was thinking for our working theory.

“Then take a look at this.” Dean announces, clicking a few buttons on the computer before leaning over to the nearby printer, pulling out and handing us the paper. It’s a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. He prints out another picture, this time of a handprint and the letters “Tre.”

“Looks like the same handprint.” Sam points out and I nod in agreement.

“Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

“I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me.” The detective states, unfortunately I immediately forgot his name. It's not the nicest thing to happen but I was also really focused on his country accent that’s just a little too funny.

“What exactly happened?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You boys and girl said you were reporters?” Mr. Detective questioned.

“We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife.” Sam recalls the gruesome story.

“That's right.” He confirms.

“See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened.” Sam clarifies for him, somewhere between a curious and condescending tone.

Mr. Detective eyes us over as if he’s contemplating something. He spins his wheely chair around swiftly getting up and going to a large file cabinet. “Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this” He huffs, pulling out a file and then a picture, the same picture Dean had already found on the computer. “Now see that there? T-R-E?” Detective reads out, even though unbeknownst to him it’s old news to us.

“Yeah” Dean answers.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.” He theorizes.

“Do you know who it was, or any theories?” I ask, trying to get any sort of new answers.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon-Trevor Sampson.” He pulls out another photo, this time of this Trevor guy, he has an oval face with curly short hair definitely on the darker side but I can’t say exactly what color due to the black and white photo. He’s also wearing some sunglasses.

“And I think he cut her up good.” He finishes, his accent thick.

“Why do you think it’s him?” I question further.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, ‘T’. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell ‘T’'s wife about their affair.” He answers, and for a detective that truly means nothing.

“No offense but how does that directly correlate to Sampson… I mean there’s other people with the initial ‘T’ right?” I question him again, hoping it doesn't offend the man.

“It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional.” He explains.

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asks, chiming in.

“No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.” Mr. Detective nods.

“Is he still alive?” Dean follows up.

“Nope.” He sighs, sitting down. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could.”

“Where's she buried?” Sam asks this time.

“She wasn't. She was cremated” He answers. No digging up bodies for us today.

“What about that mirror”, Dean nods towards the one in the photo, “It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?”

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.” He explains, leaning back in his chair.

“You have the names of her family by any chance?”

We drive down the roads, the sun setting behind us. Sam’s call dictates where we go, either to whatever location he gives us or back to the motel.

“Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks.” Sam hangs up, pocketing his phone.

“So?” Dean asks.

“So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.” Sam stated.

“So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” Dean raises.

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.” Sam simply puts it.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asks.

“Yeah! People would cover up the mirror when someone died so that their spirit/ soul wouldn’t get trapped.” I explain, happy to spew some more of my fun facts.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit” Dean works through the facts.

“Yes! But I don’t know how she’s working through various mirrors” I admit.

“I don't know either, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.” Dean proposes.

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe.” Sam gets cut off by his own phone, “ Hello.” A look of concern washes over his face, becoming pale “Charlie?”

The motel room is colder, the rain outside causing that meek fact. Charlie’s sitting on Sam’s bed, her head on her knees, after we picked her up from school all terrified. All the curtains are drawn shut, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces are covered with sheets or turned aquas towards a wall or the floor there will be no bloody mary getting in here.

Sam sits next to Charlie, “Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?” She looks up reluctantly and slowly, “Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Her voice wobbled, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

“No. No. Not anytime soon.” Sam comforts, but I don’t think it helps.

Dean sits on the bed too, “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it.” She answers simply, rocking herself slightly.

“That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?” Dean pushes.

She looks around uncomfortably, swallowing she begins, “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?” She looks over at me for confirmation knowing without any previous conversation about it that I would understand. And she was right. It was as if bad boyfriends were sewed into the fabrics of being a woman, it would be a little strange if you hadn’t had one.

I nod and she continues, “And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She cries harder, going back to her previous position.

I move towards her, Sam getting up to allow me to sit close to her. I hug her, holding her close despite her awkward position. “That’s not your fault” I told her simply, and I meant it too. She uncurls herself, quickly wrapping her arms around me and stuffing her face into my neck. I hold her tighter. “You did the right thing, leaving him” I mutter.

Dean huffs, gripping the steering wheel slightly tighter, “You were right back there Y/N, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.”

“You guys should know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary.” Sam reasons.

“I guess” Dean sighs.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.” Sam suggests.

“Oh, what do you mean?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.” Sam explains.

“Well how do you know that's going to work?” Dean questions.

“I don't, not for sure.” Sam shrugs.

“Well who's gonna summon her?” Dean follows up.

“I will. She'll come after me.” Sam states as if it’s the most obvious answer and with no care for himself.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean nearly shouts, pulling the car over quickly and roughly making my body shift nearly knocking into the door.

“This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you.” Dean fumes, not quite yelling but also not quite talking.

“Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam answers plainly, almost in defeat

“Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done.” Dean adds.

“I could've warned her.” Sam sighs, and the pain in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Sam…you couldn’t have known that would happen.” I chime in, though it doesn't quite feel like my place.

“And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway.” Dean exclaims.

“No you don't.” Sam states, no further explanation given.

“I don't what?” Dean asks.

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.” Sam shrugs.

“What are you talking about?” Dean questions, face full of confusion.

“Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” He replied sassily.

Dean looks surprised, “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.” But Sam doesn't get any answers, with a roll of his eyes Dean drives off. Conversation over.

Sam is trying to pick the lock on the shop's door, somehow without any word he became the designated lock picker. The dark oak door opens and all around the store are mirrors, mirrors of all shapes and sizes and varieties. Truly the worst place to be in this situation.

“Well...that's just great, '' Dean sighs, pulling out the photo of Mary’s corpse to look at the mirror, the one we’re looking for being a wooden frame. Not very helpful considering our location where there are countless mirrors that look exactly the same. “All right let's start looking.”

I nod in agreement handing both boys their crowbars. I shifted my baseball bat in my hand, there wasn’t a third crowbar and there was no reason for it anyways, a baseball bat is just as good at smashing.

We enter the dark store, flashlights on, splitting up we look for our specific mirror.

“Maybe they've already sold it.” Dean suggests, from some part of the store.

“I don't think so.” Sam says, stopping in his tracks. Dean and I walk over on either side of the taller man, Dean pulls out the picture again comparing the two. It’s our mirror.

“That's it.” Dean sighs, “You sure about this?”

Sam hands over his flashlight and sighs, “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He looks between the both of us, “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines through the store windows, illuminating the room.

“I'll go check that out. You guys stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves.” Dean shuffles away.

I grip my bat tighter as a breath that isn’t mine nor Sam’s surrounds us. He turns around quickly but I keep my back towards him, “Nothing?” I ask and he hums in confirmation.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mary in one of the mirrors, I step forward swinging my bat back and then forward hard. The glass shatters falling to the floor around my feet. Then Sam hits a mirror behind me, before swiftly turning back to her mirror.

“Come on. Come into this one.” He mutters underneath his breath.

He tilts his head watching his regeneration weirdly when suddenly he starts breathing heavily grabbing at his chest.

“Sam!” I shout, grabbing his arm. His eyes begin to bleed, blood trickling down his cheeks. He drops his crowbar, the metal clinking against the floor loudly.

“It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica.” A voice rings out, one that sounds like Sam’s though I know it’s not him speaking. I help him to the floor carefully as he grabs his chest harder.

“You never told her the truth—who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it?” The voice fumes.

I get up leaving Sam to the floor, “That’s enough of you” I mutter, gripping my baseball bat tight. I hit her mirror, the glass shatters around me.

I hear Sam take a deep breath in, when I look down at him he’s no longer holding his chest. He holds a thumb up to me, weakly.

But for some reason the voice didn’t stop, Mary was no longer hurting Sam but her accusations wouldn’t stop.

“Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—You had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!”

I smash three more mirrors, anything to get it to stop by it doesn't.

“SAM, SAMMY!” Dean shouts, rushing into the room and crouching down to his brother.

“It's Sam” He answers meekly.

Dean holds onto his brother's face gently, eyeing his face and the blood on it, “God, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam replies, a little unsure though considering the circumstances I get it.

“Come on, come on.” He pulls Sam up, bringing his arm around his neck with a nod of his head towards the door. I follow the boys towards the exit.

A sudden crunching noise forces us to turn around. Mary crawls out of the frame of her mirror, her long black hair covering her face, she walks over the broken glass with no care, her head tilting to the side as she crawls towards us. Her dark nearly black eyes bore into us, somehow she forces us to the floor.

My chest feels tight as if someone was squeezing my heart, I try to crawl backwards on my hands like a crab walk when a sharp pain surges through my hand followed by my eyes. I bring my hand in front of me, a large slash runs through my palm, a piece of glass sticking out of it. The ache in my eyes I know is not caused by glass but by Mary, I reach my gold hand up to my cheek blood trickling down my face. I suck in a breath, the pain not helping the already pain I was feeling. I look over to the boys on the left of me nearly on top of each other as blood runs down both their cheeks.

Mary stands approaching us with a head tilt and a limp. I grumble holding up a shaky hand, waving my hand once, slowly, making long mirrors form in a line in front of Mary acting as a wall between us.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” A female voice cried out, Mary’s voice.

She looks at her reflections scared, when she begins to choke. She grabs on to her throat and her chest, crumbling down to the ground she shrieks, turning to a puddle of blood

With another wave of my hand the wall of mirrors shatters, glass falling to the floor loudly.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I hum feeling a little defeated.

“This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?” He asks me and I can’t help the big smile that falls on my face.

“Mmm I can’t wait” I laugh, the sarcastic comment coming to me with ease.

The sun rises in front of us, gleaming on the Impala. Our faves are cleaned up, ridden of blood and the event that unfolded. The only proof of it happening being my hand that’s carefully wrapped in white gauze, the glass now out and the cut cleaned.

Charlie sits next to me in the back seat as we pull up to her house, it's odd having someone else back here with me.

“So this is really over?” She asks us, her eyes puffy from her night of crying.

Dean looks at her through the rearview mirror, nodding, “Yeah, it's over.”

“Thank you.” She says, Dean reaching back to shake her hand. She turns to me next, arms open in a hug. I close the gap between us and give her a good squeeze.

She smiles a little sadly at me, getting out of the car.

“Charlie?” Sam calls out, stopping the woman in her tracks. She turns around, “Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

She smiles faintly, turning back around to go into her house.

Dean hits his brother's arm gently, “That's good advice.”

We drive off the car falling silent for a beat before Dean talks again, “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” He answers.

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.” Dean tells him, looking between him and the road.

“Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” He admits with a sigh, looking out the window.

The car falls silent again.

Healing isn’t easy. It's not something you can put a bandaid on and expect to be fine, and maybe all that Sam shared will be enough for now but that’s not something we can gauge.

That is times doing, and time isn’t something we can control.

God knows i’ve tried.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural #john winchester #slow burn #witch #witch reader #witch craft #sunshine x grumpy #romance #fantasy #bloody mary #urban legends #mystery #mirror #fun facts #the hunter and the witch

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

WIBTA if I asked for customer service from a native English speaker? I have an insurance plan that up until a few months ago was only moderately overcomplicated, by US standards at least. I get my monthly prescription, it's partially covered by insurance, and then after paying out of pocket for it I'm reimbursed for however much it cost thru my employer's HRA. About a year ago I had to switch to a more expensive medication, and learned the hard way that scripts that require a prior auth aren't eligible for HRA reimbursement. I got letters saying so instead of the usual checks, and the claims were listed online as DENIED. They listed cheaper meds I had to try before being eligible for the prior auth that would let me be reimbursed. I switched to one of the cheaper meds, and it worked well enough that I decided to stick with it rather than do another round of Drs appts. I got reimbursed each month like before, and everything was fine for a few months. This month, as I was submitting my claim, I realized that I hadn't actually gotten the last two checks yet. The site says it's normal to take up to 7 weeks, and this was just a bit past that, so I used the online chat function to ask about the delay. Both the unreceived claims were listed normally, unlike the previous claims that clearly said DENIED, so I figured everything was fine. Over the course of an hour, I talked to 3 different people, each of which told me something different – my claim was ineligible, my HRA never covered prescriptions to begin with, my plan had changed without notice, I had to resubmit everything including the original scripts, and so on. I obv can't say for sure, but I strongly suspect none of the people I chatted with spoke English very well, and also having both reread the paperwork a few times and compared previous claims I'm 90% sure they're all wrong. Many of them implied I was looking at the wrong page (nope, triple checked) or that I hadn't actually filed paperwork I was looking at on their site. IK customers can absolutely be wrong about these things, but I swear that's not what's happening here. The money is a pretty big deal, so I can't just let it go either. WIBTA for asking for someone who I know understands what I'm asking and can answer my questions more clearly, in other words a native or significantly more fluent English speaker?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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inevitably-johnlocked · 7 months

Text

Halloween Fics (MFLs) [October 2023 Edition]

See also:

Halloween Fics (Oct 2018)

Halloween and Ghosts (updated Oct 31/21)

Vampires (Dec. 2020)

Ghosts / Figments

Hybrids and Shapeshifters

Hey everyone!! Hope you're having a wonderful day! Today I thought that it's been a long time since I've posted an update to my Halloween fic list, but I haven't read many new fics since, so I though for today's post (because I don't have anything ready anyway) I would go through my MFL List and post up the ones that have been recommended to me throughout the years! Please note I have not read any of these, these are just based on a tag search on my offlline list :)

And because I haven't actually been asked this year for some new fics (I usually do so I am sad lol), I guess I shall make a new list without one!

As usual, please feel free to add your own fics!

========

Mummy by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (T, 901 w., 1 Ch. || UAP Canon Divergence, Halloween, Meeting the Parents) – Meeting your boyfriend’s parents for the first time can be a bit scary. Especially when your boyfriend is Sherlock Holmes. Part 12 of the Spooky Johnlock Stories series

What Didn't Happen by Katzedecimal (T, 1,213 w., 1 Ch. || Costumes, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Halloween, Texting, Case Fic) – There is a very short Conan busying about the flat. He's threatening me with a sword if I don't eat something.

Until the final breath escapes by meet_me_in_samarra (M, 1,875 w., 1 Ch. || Halloween, Domestics, Established Relationship, Mild Gore, Kissing) – In a world turned hostile they hold onto their love until the final breath escapes.

John Watson and the Curse of the Were-Kitten by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (G, 2,193 w., 2 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Supernatural AU || Halloween, Spooky Fluff) – Limping away from the crime scene, John glanced up at a nearby rooftop. His mouth dropped open at what he saw: Sherlock, silhouetted against the rising full moon. Realising that he was gawping like a fool, John looked around to make sure he wasn’t being observed. When he turned back, Sherlock had vanished. All that remained on the rooftop was a small black kitten, padding between the chimney pots. Part 1 of the Spooky Johnlock Stories series, Part 5 of the H.I.A.T.U.S. Prompt Fills

These Hands of Yours by okapi (E, 2,700 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Canon || Supernatural Elements, Horror, Hands, Anal Fisting / Fingering, Halloween) – Holmes has casts made of his hands. Watson falls in love. So do the hands.

His favourite pizza (delivery guy) by thewallflower07 (G, 4,298 w., 1 Ch. || Teenager AU || Flirting John, Annoying Mycroft, Med Student John, Horny Teenagers, Halloween, High School Student Sherlock, Pizza) – Sherlock is staying at a hotel on Halloween with his family and keeps insisting they order pizza because he is infatuated with the very cute, blonde delivery boy.

Wanted: Empath by nutmeag83 (T, 4,886 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Elements AU || Empath John, Ghost Hunter Sherlock, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Pining John, Resolved Romantic Tension, Friends to Lovers) – Sherlock is a ghost hunter and John his empath assistant. Near Halloween, they investigate a ghostly sighting at a mansion in the English countryside. The events of their investigation bring their feelings for each other to the fore.

Food goes on the food shelf by avalanching effect (G, 5,283 w., 1 Ch. || Halloween, Pre-Slash, Crack/Humour, Cannibalism, Magical Realism, Witches, Light Gore, POV Sherlock) – John, (without conferring with Sherlock) implements a system of organization in the kitchen. There are areas designated as 'experiment' areas, and others as 'food safe' areas. Crossover, however, is bound to happen.

In a manner of speaking I'm dead by fellshish (T, 6,372 w., 1 Ch. || Halloween, Mystrade, Angst With Happy Ending, PIning, First Kiss, Drunk Idiots, Drinking Games, Humour) – Sherlock and John accidentally dress in matching outfits for Lestrade's Halloween party. Things only get worse: someone pushes them to play 'Never have I ever'.

A Beautifully Frightening Revelation by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (M, 6,486 w., 2 Ch. || Supernatural Elements AU|| Ghosts, Haunted House, First Kiss/Times, Frottage, Fluff, Halloween, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing, Spooky) – John and Sherlock are investigating an isolated country manor haunted by a mischievous ghost. A series of spooky incidents brings them together in a candlelit bedroom, the night ripe for revelations and facing fears.

The Babadook by CatieBrie (T, 6,886 w., 1 Ch. || Babadook Fusion || Post-TRF, Horror, Demonic Possession, Violence, Halloween, Grief, Angst with Happy Ending) – “A children’s book,” John mutters as he flips it open. The pages are scrawled with beautiful charcoal lines and thick black ink. The cover, bright red, edges the open pages and something tugs at the back of John’s brain. It’s a familiar feeling, black and tarrish and thick in his thoughts. He shakes it off and picks the book up off his bed, turning so that he can sit on the edge and spread the book out across his knees. If it’s in a word or it’s in a look, you can’t get rid of the Babadook. He turns the page, ignoring the pressure building beneath his chest. There’s a closet on one page; paper doors meant to be opened by the reader flutter as John reads the text on the other page.

The Spirit Child by VelvetMace (M, 7,287 w., 1 Ch. || Psychological Horror, Disturbing Themes, Horror, Gore) – A small wooden box filled with clay and feotus bones yields more than just clues to a violent murder. A Halloween Story. Read at your own risk -- and I do not say this lightly.

Were it Well by merelypassingtime (G, 7,496 w., 6 Ch. || Shapeshifter AU || Crack, Halloween) – When moving in with the world's only consulting detective John is concerned he won't be able to keep his secret. Turns out he need not have worried.

In the Shadows of 221B by CarmillaCarmine (E, 8,299 w., 5 Ch. || Halloween, Friends to Lovers, Spooky Smut) – On a stormy, Halloween night, Sherlock appears changed, but John isn't about to complain about anything Sherlock wants to do to him. Part 10 of the The Stories of Angst and Heartbreak series

Let's Say I Let You In by kedgeree (E, 9,972 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE|| Halloween, Costume Kink, Established Relationship, Humour, Smut, Vampire Sherlock, Bloodplay, Biting, Romance) – It's Halloween and Sherlock's vampire costume is turning John on, but Sherlock doesn't quite get the idea of a sexy vampire. At least…not at first. Part 4 of the Holidays series

The Subtenant by khorazir (T, 12,238 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, Halloween, Magical Realism, Humour, Ghosts, Banter, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – When you have ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Hence, there can be no doubt about it: 221B is haunted. Sherlock and John set out to investigate their new subtenant and find out more than they bargained for.

Hallowe'en Homecoming by earlybloomingparentheses (T, 12,594 w., 1 Ch. || Unconventional Relationship, Halloween, Sherlock’s Childhood, Family Videos) – Sherlock and John are solving a case when Mycroft turns up and persuades Sherlock to return home for his mother's Hallowe'en celebration. John thinks that seeing where Sherlock grew up will help him understand the detective better; instead, he finds himself more confused than ever. But it's John Watson's job to look after Sherlock Holmes, come hell, high water, or Hallowe'en, so that's just what he's going to do.

Looks like something the cat digged out by HOverSeas (T, 12,876 w., 1 Ch || Magical Realism AU || Post-TGG, Canon Divergence, Halloween, Hurt/Comfort, Werecat John, Temporary Character Death) – The bomb at the pool goes off, and takes both Sherlock and Moriarty with it. John doesn't agree with the outcome, so he decides to bring Sherlock back from the dead. But, of course, there is a price.

Zing and You'll Miss It by Raina_at (M, 14,980 w., 2 Ch. || Hotel Transylvania AU || Vampire Sherlock, Crack/Humour, Rom Com, University Student John, Love at First Sight, Magic, Soul Mates, Minor Mollstrade) – Every year, the monster community meets at Halloween for a big party. Sherlock is bored out of his mind as usual, when suddenly a handsome human stumbles into the monster party. Eyes meet, sparks fly, and Sherlock's entire world is turned upside down as he has to decide whether that tingly feeling is lust, love, magic, or a combination of all three.

The Masquerade of the Red Death by okapi (E, 16,800 w., 14 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, For A Case / Case Fic, Kink Exploration, Orgy, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Bum Worship, Shotgunning, Daddy Kink, Corsetry, Cock Worship, Praise Kink, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Drugging, Wrestling, Love Confessions, Pet Play, Rimming, Public Sex/Blow Jobs, Shibari, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism) – On the hunt for a serial killer, Sherlock & John attend a masked orgy. Inspired by "The Masque of the Red Death" by Edgar Allan Poe. Part 11 of the Spooky & Kooky (the Halloween fics)

One Good Scare by blueink3 (M, 17,386 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Holmes Family, Parentlock, Misunderstandings, Family, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Halloween, Happy Ending) – Mummy invites Sherlock, John, and Rosie to the country for her birthday, which just so happens to coincide with the annual Harvest Festival, an event Sherlock loathes. With John seemingly making the wrong move at every turn and with ghosts hiding in each of their closets, what will it take for their (Halloween) masks to finally come off?

The Halloween Party by XistentialAngst (M, 19,044 w., 3 Ch. || Halloween, Sexy Sherlock, Vampires, Costumes/Disguises, Mutual Masturbation, BAMF John, First Time, Humour, Romance, Frottage, Friends to Lovers) – Sherlock and John attend a Halloween party on the trail of a vampire killer -- a man who's been seducing his victims and taking all their blood. Sexy costumes, bad puns, hideous danger, frantic sex in hidden places and some Halloween-flavored fluff are all on hand to "treat" you. Boo.

it's not always black and wight by elldotsee (M, 21,385 w., 7 Ch. || Supernatural Elements AU || Ghosts, Halloween, Case Fic, Victor Trevor) – By the time he turned eight, Sherlock had had more supernatural experiences than he could count or recall. He’d grown used to flickering lights, the whispers in the night, the sudden appearance of apparitions in the corridors. The dead were just as much a part of his life as the living. He went about his business, never disrupting theirs.Sometimes he talked to them, but they never talked back. Sometimes, he heard their stories second-hand, in the snippets of conversation between his parents at the dinner table, but they were never spoken about like real people. They were simply characters that formed the tapestry of the house, bumps and flickers of a life stuck in the in-between. That is, until he met Victor.

Haunted by Vulpesmellifera (E, 22,369 w., 4 Ch. || S4 Fix-It/Post-Canon, POV John, Child Endangerment, Halloween, Nightmares, Bed Sharing) – Plagued by the past, John moves himself and his daughter to a new flat for a fresh start - and it's not 221B Baker Street.While he grapples with new knowledge and old guilt, he's confronted with odd neighbors and strange noises in the night. But is it the new flat, or is John Watson losing his grip on reality?

the napoleon by darcylindbergh (E, 24,823 w., 4 Ch. || 1980′s AU || Halloween, Action & Romance, Costumes, Costume Parties/Masquerades, Mutual Pining, First Kiss / Time) – Halloween, 1989: John and Sherlock both have big plans for the night, but serial killers have the worst possible timing.

From a Well, Dark and Deep by Vulpesmellifera (M, 32,691 w., 18 Ch. || Post S4, Supernatural Elements, Horror / Milld Body Horror, Bed Sharing, Possession, Hand Holding, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Coming Out, Alternating POV, Nightmares, Caring John, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is desperately trying to reconcile his newfound memories and feelings within his transport—a transport that won’t quit with the nightmares and the strange, fiddly anxieties that crop up at the most inopportune moments. On the advice of his psychiatrist—not that he’s thrilled to be taking the man’s advice, but needs must—he's going to mark the anniversary of Eurus’ torments. That explains why he visits the well. What he finds at the well, though, is entirely unexpected. Meanwhile, John Watson has finally come to terms with something he’s ignored his entire life. He’s ready to share that something with Sherlock, except Sherlock isn’t acting himself. It's not the time for confessions, and John determines he must get to the bottom of his best friend's affliction before he can reveal anything. Part 3 of Vulpes' Halloween Johnlock

This Is Family by SaraStarchild (T, 39,840 w., 16 Ch. || Hereditary AU || Psychological Horror, Body Horror, Demonic Possession, POV Third Person Limited, Protective Mycroft, Cults, Mycroft Whump, Sherlock Whump, Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Retelling) – When the Holmes family's secretive mother and matriarch, Ellen Holmes, passes away, the family she leaves behind – father Martin, sons Mycroft and Sherlock, and daughter Eurus – begins to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry. The more they discover, the more they find themselves trying to outrun the sinister fate they seem to have inherited. This is, pretty much, a word-for-word retelling of the 2018 Ari Aster film, Hereditary. Part 1 of Sherlock Halloween Stories

A Sharp, Dressed Man Series by sgam76 (T, 50,221+ w. across 6 works || Series WiP || Vampire AU || Halloween Fic, Protective Mycroft, Kidnapping, Injured Sherlock, Psychological Terror) – Every once in a while, Mycroft Holmes is called upon to take matters into his own hands. It doesn't always go exactly as you'd expect. And he enjoys it more than he will ever admit.

FictoberLock 2018 by FinAmour & unicornpoe (M, 60,875 w., 31 Ch. || Halloween, Protective John, Smitten Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Injured Sherlock, Various Prompts) – 31 different prompts, 31 Johnlock fics: one every day for the month of October! Each chapter is a stand-alone story. Some are written by unicornpoe, some by FinAmour, and some are written by us both! They range in length from ~500 words to ~3500 words, and there’s something in here for everyone.

Johnloctober by prettysailorsoldier (E, 169,945 w., 31 Ch. || Assorted AU’s || Alternate First Meetings, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, 30 Day OTP Challenge, Prompts, Halloween / Autumn, Assorted Tags) – 31 days of autumnal Johnlock with prompts from all of you! There will be a bit of everything, but you can check the tags for more specifics.

Skeletons Series by flawedamythyst (T, 174,262 w. across 3 works || Nightmare Before Christmas Fusion || Implied Character Death) – Sherlock's refusal to talk about his past hides far more skeletons than John could ever have guessed at. Halloween-esque AU.

#johnlock fic recs #fic rec sunday #halloween fics #my fic recs #fics to read #marked for later #long post

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amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix · 11 months

Text

how long can you stand the heat || ot7

Warnings: Uhhh, none I think? Non-graphical smut and slight angst, but that's pretty much it for now since I'm still crafting the next part, and some curse words lmao.

I won't control you, but MDNI. This is not for you, please.

Pairings: OT7/(F) Reader, Jackson Wang/(F) Reader

Plot: The one where your soulmates don't want you in their life, so you give them what they want and stay out of their way.

Genre: not really unrequited love (but they're all idiots), mutual pining, angst, denial of feelings, poly ot7

How do you think I'm going to get along

Without you when you're gone?

You took me for everything that I had

And kicked me out on my own.

Are you happy? Are you satisfied?

How long can you stand the heat?

Out of the doorway the bullets rip

To the sound of the beat.

mixtape: all i have left to give - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ending 1

I originally posted this on ao3 last April but I've just recently thought, "why not post this on tumblr now that i'm using it again after a few years?"

this fic is v self-serving, and was brought to you by my ✨maladaptive daydreams✨

first fic i posted here. idek what im doing but lezzgawwww

Title obviously came from AOBTD. Thank you, Sir John Deacon. You are heaven-sent for making this iconic and legendary bop.

This will be a part of a multi-fic series and i've already crafted 80/90-ish% of the next part im so sorry my mind isn't cooperating rn

✨️

God must be testing your patience.

I mean sure, you might not also be sure that there is indeed a god out there somewhere. However, you must have pissed off some deity or you had pissed on some old man of the mound. Either way, you don't care. You're pissed off now, too.

You see when they rejected you and asked (read: avoided you like the plague until Sejin spoke with you) not to speak or interact with them, you respected their wishes. It stung, but it's not really surprising.

It's not a secret that the seven of them are soulmates, polyamorous soulbonds not even a rarity in and out of the industry. However, it's also not a secret that they're very exclusive and don't let too many (if any) other people in their circle because of the things they had to endure as a group. It makes sense that they wouldn't want a new person intruding and messing with their dynamics, soulmate or not.

(deep down you want to say it doesn't make sense. you're their soulmate, why can't they accept you like that? but there's still nothing you can do, isn't there?)

And so, you delegated all your tasks related to their group to your most trusted employees completely and avoided them at all costs. And by 'at all costs', you mean everything. You even deleted all their songs on your playlists and blocked them on social media (even on Spotify). You can co-exist with them without interacting, although it makes your chest ache through the bond because of the soul rejection like a 24/7 acid relapse.

It's fine. You can ignore all that. You can handle rejection. You've been used to this since you were a kid; adult you can handle this.

Soul rejection side effects? Nothing meds and doctors can't fix. Technology has never been more advanced and all that jazz.

You're a mature person, and you pride yourself on that. You don't like confrontations that much and would rather step back as much as you can to disengage. If your soulmates don't want anything to do with you, then you'll back off.

But you sometimes wonder if they can feel it too, the soul strings fraying and slowly decaying. After shit went down, it's bouts of nausea and dizziness, and constant chest aches for you. That's not even half of it. It'll take a whole day for you to list all your symptoms.

If they do feel it, does it add to their list of reasons why they hate your existence? You mean, they had been borderline antagonistic since your first meeting, cold but civil at best.

It was a contrast to the way the tiny soul marks on each of your fingers glowed on your first meeting even until after Taehyung and Yoongi fled in what you can guess is disbelief and refusal, the others following suit. The warmth in your hands felt scorching, and you had never wanted to scrub them with water in your life then more than you ever did, your chest beating hard and painfully. You remember feeling like someone slashed your insides with a hot knife, and it has never stopped being in pain ever since.

What else were you supposed to think other than they hate you?

Not wanting to risk another embarrassing conversation with Sejin (bless his heart), you decided to book an appointment and signed up for the relatively new soul-scraping therapy. It's still in its human trial stages and is slowly being recognized as a way of severing soul ties, albeit not approved and sanctioned by the government. Anything to give and honor their wishes. They're your soulmates, and it's innate in you to give people what they want.

(or was it really just that?)

All of that and everything else, you can take. You live and abide by your life motto to stay out of drama, so you take all of it in stride and with dignity because it's all you have left at this point when it comes to them.

This is where you got pissed off, though. This day takes the cake, this sodding party.

Attending the party was certainly not your idea. You're tired from the long-ass meetings you had today—JYP's team asked for a meeting for your agreement with Day6 since Sungjin got discharged a few months ago with Younghyun following suit in a few days. A party is definitely not on your to-do list. If it's up to you, you'll be going home to your phone and fics.

(and if they're bangtan fics, nobody has to know. this, you can let yourself have—you were advised against going cold turkey from them by the doctors handling the soul-scraping therapy, after all. if you can't have them, maybe you can at least indulge in fictional them.)

You have been minding your own business since you arrived at the bar. It's laughable how socially inept you are despite handling your business and meeting the entertainment industry's biggest names and leaders regularly. When being put in parties and other gigs that force you to socialize just for the sake of socializing, you're back to being the fat loser kid that avoided making new friends because the ones you previously had in childhood (if you can really call them that) can't understand how your brain and mouth work. Frankly, you don't, too, so you just preferred to stay in one corner until it's socially acceptable to go home.

"Hey." Jackson squeezes your hand in his and smiles worriedly at you. "You doing okay?"

Jackson had been a long-time friend and is someone you trust your whole life with. Jackson had seen you through your bests and worsts, but had never once turned his back on you or betrayed you as many people did.

Yeah, you would trust him with your whole life. Your panties too, but don't tell him that.

(there's no need to because he knows; he did lots of times before, with his face between your thighs and your undies in his pocket.)

"I'm good." You don't even bother smiling, knowing it won't convince him too much. He knows your stand on parties; you're his polar opposite, after all. "I just really wanna go home."

"Can I come with?" he asks with a salacious smile.

You roll your eyes.

"Stop being horny for five minutes, please."

"You shouldn't have worn that dress, then." He rakes you with an assessing look. "On second thought, that's the best decision you did tonight so far. If you're not going home with anyone tonight, my room's open."

"You up to be my wingman?" you ask.

"Sure. I'll sit with you all night so we can look like a swinger couple scouting for a third we can take home." He waggles his eyebrows.

You snort at that with an amused chuckle, oblivious to the glare(s) directed your way by—who else?—your soulmates.

They (Taehyung) heard from Manager Sejin and Noona Ae-cha that you're not sure if you can come. They didn't know why the two were talking about you, but Taehyung tried to act immersed in his phone while eavesdropping.

Apparently, you had been stuck in the boardroom almost all day with the back-to-back meetings, and you even had to cancel your doctor's appointment. For what the appointment is for, he didn't know. It explains your absence that day, and he files the information away at the back of his head. He can't for the life of him understand why he can't stop trying to spot crumbs about you.

(he does know, but he's in denial about why—and he'll deny both.)

He then told his hyungs and Jungkook, which they just nodded at, seemingly uninterested. But if Namjoon's faraway serious look at times is anything to go by or the way Jimin picks at the skin on his lips as he's lost in thought, he's pretty sure they are also subtly trying to figure out if you're coming.

(but they'll all deny that if asked.)

They haven't seen you that much since they started actively avoiding you months ago and shut down whatever soul link you have with them, and you are damn good at trying to stay out of their way.

It surprised them, they're not gonna lie. They expected you to put up a fight, but all Manager Sejin told them was that you agreed. You never interacted with them ever since unless it was really needed, and you were always wearing your rings and not making unnecessary eye contact even once.

(and that somehow pisses them off and itches under their skin because how dare you not be interested?)

And now you've been here for the past hour or so, Jackson Wang in tow. Or rather, Jackson has his arms alternately snaked around yours or slung around your shoulders. It makes Jackson look like a frat douchebag.

(and it makes taehyung look jealous and interested in you which he is so not, no.)

Hoseok was the first one to spot you arriving, Another One Bites The Dust thumping through the dancefloor that was bathed in red lights. He nudges Namjoon from his seat in their secluded and swanky VIP room that was separated one floor above the bar proper.

"There she is", he says then, gesturing towards you as all seven pairs of eyes land on you as you enter with Jackson. "She's with Wang."

With varying levels of internal turmoil, they all watch as Jackson led you through the throngs of people, presumably to another room like theirs. They see you shake your head and point to the bar, and Jackson's face light up with a wide smile before redirecting your steps.

Yoongi asks himself why you have to wear that dress or why Jackson has to clutch at your hands like a little kid, the others having a similar train of thought. Does Jackson think he's going to be lost in this bar? Is he that plain stupid to be lost in this bar, really?

And why are you letting him?

Jimin tries not to let his eyes wander on your legs, tries not to let his mind wander back to the thought of being choked by your thick supple legs and ripping that off-shoulder dress off you and—

Oh. Woah, there.

Stop it! he thinks to himself and shakes his head.

(this is not the first time he's thought of this, darling. when he first saw those smooth and lovely-looking plump thighs, he knows he was fucked.)

Jin is no better, but he hides it better than the others. After all, it was not his idea to shut you out like that. He was opposed to it and tried to talk some sense into the others, but they didn't listen. He thought back then that Namjoon would at least be reasonable and give you a shot but nooo, the kid was stupid enough to listen to others.

Let them have what they want, then.

(he can feel the pit and longing in his chest some nights and thinks that maybe he can let the others do what they want but still do what he wants too. but he takes a look at the six men who had been there for him through thick and thin, and he can't lose them. he sends you an apology mentally, hoping you can at least feel it through the bond.)

"Calm down," Jin tells them levelly, trying to pry the glass off Namjoon's hand, lest he crushes it and injures himself. "You're crushing the poor thing, Joonie. Don't wanna end up in the ER, do you?"

Jackson's the one to end up in the ER if he doesn't unwrap his arms from your shoulders, that's who, Namjoon thinks to himself bitterly before he can stop himself.

Jin leans back on his seat and watches as you laugh with Jackson, arms slung around your shoulders as the latter listens to you talk. They all wouldn't have to seethe in barely contained anger if they just listened to him though, so who's at fault here?

Aish, these brats.

"I'm going to get more drinks," Jungkook suddenly says, disentangling himself from Taehyung fluidly.

"You can just ask them," Namjoon says, pointing towards the glass doors where their security detail is posed out of the room. "There's no need to go out."

"I'm going to get more drinks," Jungkook repeats firmly, ignoring him. Namjoon's jaw clenches. "Come help me, Jin-hyung?"

Ah, this conniving brat. Jin wants to kiss his pouty lips for this.

"Sure," Jin says easily, much to Namjoon's annoyance. He pats Namjoon's cheeks gently. "No breaking the glass, Joon-ah. We have a photoshoot tomorrow."

He pulls Jungkook out of the room before any of them can disagree further. He loops his arm around Jungkook's petite waist, nodding once to the man stationed at the door.

"You're not just getting drinks at you, aren't you?" Jin asks as they descend the steps.

"I don't know what you're talking about, hyung." Jungkook's smile is sharp. "I just don't wanna get roofied and end up on the tabloids tomorrow, is all."

"You don't have to lie to me," Jin says, kissing his hair. "I wanna see her, too."

Jungkook's smile turns sad at that.

"I just don't understand. [Name]-noona seems like a nice person. They're all being stupid."

Jin has to agree. "But you know why we have to, right? I don't like it, too, but we have no choice."

"But we do!" Jungkook insists. "We can be friends, even."

"Friends don't fuck friends." Jungkook snorts at that. "There's nothing 'friends' about wanting her with us, Jungkook."

"Friends don't fuck friends, my ass," Jungkook mumble mockingly. "That didn't stop Jackson-hyung at all."

Jin stops momentarily, pulling Jungkook to a stop. "Excuse me?"

"They were having sex last week, hyung. When Jackson-hyung came over last Wednesday."

"Was that why...?"

"Yeah." Jungkook takes his hand as they walk again. "I felt it through the strings, too."

Jungkook is suspiciously not meeting his eyes.

"Jungkook-ah."

"What?" he asks innocently. Jin's lips pull into a smirk.

"You naughty cat!"

"I—what? No!" but Jungkook is still not meeting his eyes. "I didn't watch them."

Jin gasps delightedly.

"This is so much better. I didn't even say anything yet!"

Ah, fuck.

In Jungkook's defense, he hadn't meant to listen in. But he had been on his way back to the practice room from relieving his screaming bladder when he heard it. The warmth and arousal that was definitely not his he had been ignoring since that lunchtime was not helping his curiosity.

"Ah!" And oh shit, it's someone moaning and it's you.

That explains the arousal he's been feeling. Oh, and the jealousy now (his), too.

"Yeah?" A deeper voice asked breathlessly. Another punched-out moan from you, and the arousal flares in his chest.

Yup. It's definitely his this time.

"Jackson, please," your equally breathless voice pleaded, and the sound shot to his cock. Jungkook had to stop his hand from going south inside his pants and boxers.

A delighted shriek and breathless laugh, followed by a staccato of 'ah ah ah's and hips slapping against each other punctuated the otherwise silent afternoon he was having.

And what would a self-respecting man do?

Stay and listen to you get railed six ways to Sunday, was what he did.

(jungkook didn't say he's a self-respecting man.)

Jungkook slipped his hand inside his pants and boxers and wrapped his hand around his aching cock. He almost moaned at how your moans quickly reached a whole other level of desperation. He wondered and tried to imagine how you would feel around him if he fucked you harder and deeper than Jackson possibly can.

He knows he can.

"Hands, Jackson." There was a chuckle, then your whine was heard. "Baobei, please."

Jungkook heard Jackson's sharp intake of breath, and he had to internally agree. Even speaking Mandarin, you sound so hot.

He heard you mewl with a choked giggle as the sounds of hips to hips got faster.

"You really like my hands, huh?" Jackson asked.

"Mhm. Want them wrapped around my—ah!—neck all the time."

Fuck.

Jungkook had to bite onto his hands as he came, so as not to give his position away, cock spurting on his hands,. Seconds later and he heard you cry out and Jackson grunt to completion.

So, no. He definitely didn't watch.

"You nasty, nasty boy!" Jin cackles at him and he wants to pout. "You listened in to them having sex?!"

"Hyung!" Jungkook hisses. "Not too loud."

Jin snickers at him, mouth pulled in a tempting smirk he wants to kiss. "Was it good?"

"Hyung," he whines. At Jin's unfaltering smirk, he sighs. "It was. She sounds so good, hyung. I can't take it off my mind."

"Maybe later, we can do something about that." Jin says with a low hum.

He peers at Jin's eyes and almost shudders at the dark and hungry look in them. Jin squeezes his waist, and it takes Jungkook's breath away.

In his silence, Jin nods with a hum.

"Hm, definitely later."

He won't say no to that. If they can't have you, Jungkook's gonna take what he can get, even if it means settling on replaying your moans in his head.

When they reach the bar, you are still sitting at the other end with Jackson. They are careful not to be seen by you or you'll probably leave like you always do when they get within your 10-foot vicinity.

Then Jackson puts his hand on your slightly exposed leg. He feels the others' jealousy through the bond first before he feels his own, and he sees you stiffen in your seat.

Hyungs!

Jungkook quickly looks away, but not before Jackson catches his gaze. He completely misses the way Jackson's mouth pulls into a quick smirk as their drinks are thankfully served at that exact moment.

"Wanna head back to your place?"

You're unexpectedly suddenly close, and it's like Jackson wants him and Jin to hear to rile them up. It works, and he can barely tamp down the urge to pour the drinks over Jackson's big head, being older be damned.

"Sure. I'll just swing by the restroom." You say as you walk away. Jin and Jungkook take that as their cue to go back to their ritzy room.

"That was short," Jin says tightly as they go back. "Was it you?"

Jungkook shakes his head.

Jin's lips quirk into an amused smile.

"Ah, jealous bastards."

"Weren't you too, though?" Jungkook asks with a slightly amused smile of his own. "That was... that was intense."

"That serves them," Jin says as they near the room. "If they weren't just pigheaded, it's my shoulders her legs are gonna be hanging from later."

"Jin-hyung!" Jungkoo huffs, but then deflates. "Yeah."

"Don't worry, we still have later," Jin says with a lascivious smirk.

And he can't complain about that, can he?

"Where's Tae-hyung?" he asks when they enter the room, Taehyung nowhere in sight.

"Went out. Didn't say where." Hoseok says as he accepts their drinks and puts the tray on the table. It takes a few seconds for him to piece it all together, and he mentally facepalms.

"Whatever happened to 'not giving a fuck' about [Name]?" he mumbles.

"Jungkook," Namjoon warns.

It sets him off.

"What? Are you all really going to keep on pretending? You do realize I felt that back there too, right?" he shoots back.

"So the drinks were just a ruse?" Namjoon's face is stormy.

Jungkook holds his gaze steady. "And what if it was? You all know what I felt about this since day one."

"Kook-ah." It's Jimin this time. "Not now, please."

"And when, hyung? When we go back to just pretending an eighth of our soul doesn't exist out there?"

"Jungkook."

He glares at Yoongi. "No, hyung. If you all want to be stupid, I don't! [Name]-noona is going through therapy because of this, don't you know?"

Yoongi scoffs. "She's a big girl, she can handle herself."

"Not soul-scraping therapy, she won't."

They all stop at that. Even Jungkook stops and internally curses.

Fuck, he wasn't supposed to say that.

"What did you say?" Namjoon's voice takes on a dangerous tone.

He huffs but stays silent, not really wanting to dig a deeper hole for himself.

"Jungkook."

"I talked to Jiho-hyung, okay? I bumped into him five months ago when he visited her."

Silence.

"Im Jiho?" At Jungkook's nod, Namjoon's frown deepened. "I didn't know he practices soul-scraping."

"He's co-authoring the soul-scraping study with Doctor Seong."

At the mention of one of their previous soul health doctors, Yoongi raises his eyebrows.

"Our Doctor Seong?"

Jungkook nods with a sigh, plopping down beside Hoseok. "Apparently, it's why he stopped private practice—to focus on the studies. They're also lobbying for fully legalizing soul-scraping in the Assembly. I ran into him, and he mentioned that he was there for noona's side effects from the therapy."

Side effects?

Shit.

"W-wait. Five months, you said?" Jin says with a tremble in his voice. "Is that why I can barely feel her anymore?"

Jungkook's sigh is pained, forlorn. "Apparently, yeah."

They all lapse in complete silence after that, the thumping of the beat on the dancefloor faint through the walls.

"Fuck."

Indeed.

It is then that Taehyung comes back. He takes one look at their varying degrees of solemn and stunned expressions and tilts his head.

"What? What happened?" he asks.

"[Name]..."

Taehyung's eyes widen before his expression smooths into indifference.

"I told you, I'm no—"

"That's not it," Jimin says softly. "She's in soul-scraping therapy, Taehyung-ah."

...

"What?"

(oh, lord. you don't know the turmoil you caused all these pining idiots, darling.)

---

And what about you?

As we said in the beginning, god must be testing your patience.

"Hey," Jackson says softly. He lifts your chin with a gentle smile long after Taehyung fucked off to god knows where. "You good, baobei?"

You didn't even know they were here. You were vaguely aware that yeah, they might be, but it totally slipped your mind. Meetings really did drain your brain.

When you stood up and went to the restroom while Jackson called for the driver, you didn't know that Taehyung was watching you from their room and completely high-tailed it from there just to intercept you when he saw you stand up from the corner of the bar. You didn't know why, but his stupid drunken ass just decided it wanted and it was a good idea to rile you up.

To piss you off is why, you think.

When you exited the ladies' room, Taehyung was standing there by the wall looking lethal. The ache in your chest flared up for two different reasons, but you ignored it. You ignored him and started walking away, pretending you didn't see him.

"So you're really here."

Seriously?

You continued ignoring him and walked on, but he didn't let you get far.

He grabs your wrist. "I said, you're really here."

The spot where he held you burned and you hissed, cursing the therapy's side effects. You were warned that coming in contact skin-to-skin with your soulmates while undergoing the therapy would feel painful (literally), but you didn't heed it then. You had no reason to touch them after all when they didn't even want to see you.

But it is painful, and it burns.

You yanked your wrist away, hiding your wrist behind your back. There's no need for that, though. Taehyung was looking at your face intently.

"Yes, and I was just leaving. See you around, T—"

"With Jackson?"

What's it with this guy?

You looked back at him and squared your shoulders up. "That's really none of your business, Taehyung."

He laughed with a sneer, shaking his head.

"What would people say if they knew you're off gallivanting with men who aren't your soulmate?"

Wow.

The nerve of this asshole.

You can't let him see it affect you though, so you tilt your head with an innocent smile.

"I'm just a nobody. Why would they talk about me? " You smirked in amusement. "I don't think it'll be me they will talk about since I wasn't the one who rejected my soulmate, was I?"

And oh, shit. Where did that come from, [Name]? Feisty.

"And I'm not doing anything illegal. Why should I be scared?" You slightly lean back and tilt your chin up. "I'm not the one between us with a reputation to uphold, a name I should protect."

You paused, a serene smile on your face.

"I'm not a coward. I'm not you, Taehyung"

The smirk on his lips was replaced with a sharp look of disdain, almost like he wants to slap the smile off your face.

(he wants to, darling. trust me. just not in the way you think.)

You knew you hit a nerve and it feels petty and mean, but it's nothing compared to the loneliness and pain they gave you these past few months. It felt satisfying, even if for just a bit.

"You really think you're all that, don't you?" He smiled almost mockingly. "Tell me, how does it feel to be rejected?"

That really stung and angered you, but you've spent all your life hiding your emotions when needed to. Your expression didn't falter.

"It feels good—"

"—because she dodged a bullet."

You internally sighed in relief as Jackson's voice float behind you. You'll forever be thankful for this man's existence, gods or not.

You melt in his arms when he wrapped them around your waist. You chanced a look at Jackson, not seeing the twitch on Taehyung's brows at your body language.

"You really think you're all that, don't you?" Jackson mocked back at him. "Imagine thinking it's the end of the world for your soulmate just because you shut down their bond." Jackson chuckled ruthlessly.

"You're pathetic, Taehyung-ssi."

The two were locked in a glowering match before Taehyung straightened up and spun on his heel without a word.

Jackson let you get your bearings by the wall of the hallway to the ladies' room in silence. But he didn't let you stew in your thoughts for long.

So now here you are, looking at his gentle eyes.

"You good, baobei?"

You don't know how to answer that really, so you pull him by the collar into a searing kiss.

He puts his hand on your waist, the other on the wall by your face, and you tighten your hold on his collar.

You pull away to gasp for air.

"Take me home," you exhale heavily as you lean your head on his shoulder. "Take me home and fuck me 'til I forget, or I might do something stupid."

Jackson's sharp intake of air is your answer before he pulls you away to your awaiting car outside the club.

---

feedback (constructive, please don't be too rude bc i'll cry) and kudos very much appreciated!

#bts soulmate au #polyamorous bts #soul bonds #kim taehyung u lil shit #soulmate rejection #idek what i'm doing okay i'm so sorry #they're idiots your honor #bts x reader #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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