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riley-phoenix · 2 years

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Pairing: Malia X Reader(gender not specified) ... eventually

Canon: Teen Wolf

Content: Murder, blood, depression, angst, major character death

Author's Note: The story is told from MALIA'S POINT OF VIEW.

Chapter Summary: After a tragedy strikes Werecoyote, Malia Tate, she and the world of the supernatural are introduced to the best detective in New York

"Oh!, My bad", had been Malia's response to bumping into a stranger. She bent down to pick up the garage store items now littered on the floor. As their faces drew level, she noticed the golden police badge and uniform. "Working late, huh?", She said as she handed over the groceries.

"Mm? Oh, about to head back to the station actually, I'm *your name* by the way, detective *your name*", The stranger said In a formal introduction. "Malia", she replied, offering her hand, to which *your name* returned.

"I think I've got everything, Babe", Scott, Malia's alpha says, joining the conversation. Scott looks inquisitively between Malia and the stranger. Malia pokes her head forward and introduces them, "Oh; this is *your name*, we just bumped into each other". A wide smile forms on *your name*'s face as they shake hands and introduce themselves.

As *your name* leaves the store, Scott turns to Malia, "You go ahead and get cleaned up, I'm gonna get some beers, they don't sell any here". "Okay, but be safe", she says, protectively. Scott laughs; "I'm an alpha, I can handle myself". Malia steals a kiss, then proceeds to walk back to their apartment.

A FEW HOURS LATER...

Lydia knocks on Malia's door. "Sorry, Lydia I don't have time, Scott went out to get beers and hasn't been home in hours, I'm going to find--"

"Malia, sit down", she says, tears beginning to swell in her eyes. Malia looks at her sceptically, before moving over to the couch. "Lydia... what's wrong?" She says, as a look of concern falls on her face. Lydia sits next to her, trying to find the right words ;or any words for that matter. "... It's Scott". She responds. Malia's eyes grow In size as she takes in her words. "That's... that's good right? So you've heard from--"

"Scott is dead".

Lydia spits out the words in one quick breath, trying to rip the bandage off. Her voice cracks in horror as she utters the "D" word. Malia stares at her in disbelief, not accepting her words, refusing to believe the love of her life, the alpha that turned her into a human after she lost hope in herself ... Is gone.

"N-n-no... No that's... You're wrong". A tear falls down Malia's face as she tries her hardest not to believe it. Lydia swallows; "I'm sorry, Malia...But--"

Before she could finish her sentence, Malia's phone buzzes in her pocket; "LOOK, IT'S SCOTT", Malia says in disbelief, sliding the green phone Icon with her thumb; "Hello!?" She says, full of hope. "Hi...is this Malia Tate?", a man by the name Bobby Johnson responds. Malia's expression falls to one of grief as she answers, "Yeah... This is she". Lydia watches on as Bobby proceeds to state things such as an address, a time, names... But finally; asks Malia to come down to identify the body. She overhears the final moments of their conversation, "Yeah...Hmm... Ok...I'm on my way". Malia lifts her head to Lydia before Inhaling deeply and throwing on her jacket. "... I have to see it for myself... And I have to do this alone". She wipes the tears from her eyes before seeing Lydia out and rushing to the scene.

Malia gets out of a taxi, throwing a couple dollars to the driver as she sprints to the scene, anxiety taking control of her as a pit forms in her stomach. She rushes into a crowded crime scene, noticing the name of the road - "Smile Rd." .Pushing past people in an effort to get to the front. "You Malia?", A young, slightly stubbled man calls out to her. "You Bobby?" She asks in response. Bobby walks forward professionaly to shake Malia's hand, "You sure you can do this?", He asked, concerned. Malia's face is plastered with a faraway gaze, as she stares out into the silent night, Illuminated by its noisy surroundings. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had to face something like this". She answers. "... I'm sorry to hear that", Bobby adds.

They walk over to the crux of the crime scene, black and yellow tape warding off areas, chalk markings made across the floor, Malia felt like she was living in an episode of CSI. The next few minutes were the hardest moments of Malia's life, her parent's deaths haunted her...but the next three questions...they broke her...

"This phone had you saved as an emergency contact, can you confirm this phone belonged to Scott?"

"...Yes".

Malia pondered over the heavy machinery pulling a beyond saving vehicle from the depths of a waterfall, "Does this car belong to you?"

"...Yes".

And then, it happened, hell froze over, Heaven fell down, the world collapsed...they began pulling a body out of the car and onto a stretcher...not moving, covered in blood... Head smashed in. Bobby put a sympathetic hand on Malia's shoulder. "Malia; Is this Scott?"

"Y...y...y-yes".

And as the words left Malia's mouth, tears ran down her face like a river as she fell onto her knees upon the stone covered surface of the earth that seemed so cruel right now. Malia laid there, unable to think or move

10 minutes later, Malia hears a loud commotion coming from the wreckage. "What's all this about?" She asks Bobby "Ms. Tate, it seems my partner has found something; Uh, this is Detective--", Malia cuts Bobby's reply short.

"*your name*!?", Malia shouts out, slightly Louder than usual, as she recognises the detective. *Your name* sees Malia approach the scene, "Oh my god... Malia?... I-I had no idea". Bobby looks between *your name* and Malia, full of questions. "You two know each other?", He asks. "We just bumped into each other at the garage", She explains, "small world", she adds on, trying to force a small chuckle.

"Anyway, what'd you find?", She asks, wiping away her tears. *Your name* looks expectingly at Bobby, not sure how to show this to Her. "Malia... Did you know where Scott was going?" ,*Your name* asks in a concerned tone. Malia sniffles, "Umm, yeah...to get beers". A sympathetic look washes over the detective's face as the three of them walk to the wreckage. Bobby opens the back door, to show Malia seven empty beer bottles scattered all over. *Your name* walks over to the passenger side door, to reveal another three, lying next to two six-pack holsters, one empty, one with two beers left in it.

*your name* and Bobby look at Malia in a sorrowful way. "No-no...Scott wouldn't...that doesn't ma--", She struggles to find her words, she looks around the crime scene as her heart starts beating inevitably faster and her vision blurs. *Your name* steps forward and grabs Malia by her shoulders, "You can't be here, not now". Malia eventually finds her footing, her breathing is heavy as she gasps for air. "Let me walk you home", the detective offers. She nods her head, frowning. They walk slowly to Malia's apartment in silence

Inside Malia's apartment, *your name* sits on the couch, at best, trying to give Malia her space. She grumpily throws off her flannel shirt, before she can reach for a fresh one, *your name* says something unexpected

"you're a werewolf".

"Werecoyote...", Malia is taken back, searching desperately for what clue tipped the detective off. *Your name* raises from *your pronouns* seat, "I saw your eyes glow back there. At first I thought I was crazy but then I noticed your disgruntled reaction towards the full moon". She's slightly impressed by the detective. "So, what... Are you in hiding as well?"

*your name* chuckles, "No, I'm not supernatural, I just know that it exists... Long story short, that life didn't agree with me, so I left it behind".

"I'm sorry to hear that".

"...I'm sorry for your loss".

They say to each other, trying their best to be comfortimg.

Malia walks over to the fridge, with a small smile on her face and grabs two beers. She begins to walk over to *your name*, but stops short as she looks down at the alcohol, the memories of the wreckage and accident flooding back in her mind. She sets them down on the counter, then with a determined look on her face, turns to the detective, "You have to believe me, werewolves can't get drunk, our bodies heal too fast. Something doesn't add up".

*Your name* takes in Malia's words, "I'm sorry, Malia...but...what do you want this to be?".

"I want it to be a murder investigation", she responds.

"Malia, say we do find a suspect, say they have a motive and no alibi, how do you think it's gonna look in court when they mention that Scott was going to get beers, and that the crash was littered with--"

Abruptly, *your name* recieved a phone call, Malia waits patiently as the detective takes it. She hears mumbling in the background as *your name* says goodbye and places down the phone. "Looks like we've finely got some good news".

"What'd they find?" She asks anxiously. "A possible witness, there aren't any cameras on Smile Rd. but this guy was on a road trip. He was heading back to Philadelphia and that's the only road back." The detective responds. "I'm coming with you, and you're not stopping me", Malia says commandingly. "Wouldn't dream of it" *your name* replies. Malia and the detective take the near-2 hour drive to Philadelphia, not taking any stops.

*Your name* pulls up infront of an apartment building, in the parking lot they see the car belonging to, "Mr. Turner", their possible witness. They begin climbing the stairway to the 7th floor when Malia speaks. "You think this guy saw something?", She asks. "I don't know but, there's only way to find out". Upon reaching his residence, apartment 6B, they are met by a crowded scene filled with paramedics, detectives, the CSI and Bobby. *Your name* turns to Bobby: "why are the CSI here?". "See for yourself", Bobby responds.

"Well, Malia, looks like you were right" *your name* says, as he returns to Her. "...Right about what?", She asks.

"This is no longer a DUI case... It's a murder investigation".

Malia still looks slightly confused, not quite sure what the detective meant. *Your name* gestured towards the door as Malia pushed her way past a few paramedics to view the scene

Upon opening the door, She found several CSI agents making chalk marks over a dead body - Mr. Turner

She stands paralyzed, her fists cleched at her sides. As *your name* steps forward to try to comfort her, Malia notices something out of the corner of her eye. "Hey you're not authorised--", a police officer tries to repremand her, before *your name* intervenes, "it's okay, she's with me"

Malia tries to analyse a weird drawing on the wall before something else catches her attention, "there's something in his mouth", she calls out. The detective looks at Malia skeptically, then reaches for a pair of gloves. Reaching inbetween The corpse's lips, a note is revealed. The detective unfolds it, only to find hieroglyphics, numbers, letters and unidentifiable symbols. "It's a a god damn code" Bobby says, pinching the bridge of his nose. *Your name" looks at one of the junior agents, "make a copy of this and send it to me, send the original to evidence".

"Detective there's something else". Another investigator calls out. A few officers gather around the body as they identify the markings on his arms "They were carved into him, presumably with a knife". *Your name*'s eyes grow large as the symbols begin to familiarise themselves. "... they're star signs",*Your name* points out. "Is that important?" Bobby asks.

"it means either the murderer is trying to throw us off ... Or this is the work of the Zodiac Killer".

The scene turns into a heated discussion as the investigators and detectives within the black and yellow tape try to break down the information. "It's impossible, even if Zodiac was as young as twenty during the original murders, that was fifty years ago, he'd have to be an old man now". Someone argues. "They never caught him, what if this is their apprentice? Or someone trying to emulate him?" Another voice adds. *Your name* steps away from the scene, trying to get a clear head, yet soon, joined by Malia. "What'd you make of those symbols?" She asks. "I have a theory". The detective continues; "what if whoever, or whatever murdered Scott, isn't human. The CSI probably won't find anything 'cuz that's out of their paygrade, but you and Scott were shapeshifters, it's possible he could've made enemies. Now when I saw those Zodiac signs I thought 'nope, its just an act to throw us off', but what if... Zodiac isn't human. It'd explain the half century between his last murder and this".

Malia folds her arms, "That's worth looking into, but I saw something I think you should know about"

"What's that?", *Your name*, replies

"When I was in there...before I even noticed the note, I saw something. There was this...creepy ass smile drawn on the wall...I didn't think anything of it first but then I remembered something, The road..."

"Where Scott was murdered...", *Your name* continues

"Smile Rd.", Malia says aggressively.

They both nod their heads in agreement. "We've got work to do", the detective says. Malia looks around carefully. "What about the non-supernatural side of this investigation?" She asks. "I'll let Bobby handle it", *your name* explains.

Outside, *your name* turns to Malia, trying to conjour a plan. "We found a connection between the road and the drawing, now we've just gotta find out if those star signs we're just there to confuse us or not. I need you to think Malia, is there anyone you can think of that'd want Scott dead?"

Malia looks up to the moon and lets out a small chuckle, "Oh yeah... I have my suspicions".

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Tags: @cactuwus @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @maliahalefandom

#teen wolf fandom #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #malia #malia hale #Malia tate #Malia x reader #fanfiction #teen wolf imagine

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said.

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath.

“You okay?”

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said.

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders.

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased.

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said.

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head.

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled.

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.”

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly.

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it.

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...”

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath.

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids.

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed.

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk.

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said.

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple.

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut.

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said.

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. 3

a/n: uwuwuwuwu this is an au since yanno,,,, they didnt really make it to nationals :(

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

GUESS WHOS BACK! BACK AGAIN!

anon:

may i request a scenario where seijoh made it to nationals and atsumu flirts with reader🥺

CAN WE BLS STOP THIS SANGWOO/ATSUMU TYPA BEAT BC I HONESTLY DONT VIBE W IT AND IT LOWKEY SCARES ME A LITTLE :o

OMLOMLOML YALL MADE IT TO NATIONALS

to be honest, it was,,, unexpected

you were sitting there, on the bench and gripping it in anticipation as seijoh and shiratorizawa were once again at a match point thanks to kyotani’s angry spike

going past 31, they were now 31-30 with seijoh in the lead

you could tell ushijima was getting antsy despite him covering it up and encouraging his team with a one-liner

your own team was buzzing with both nervousness and hope and iwaizumi was clenching and unclenching his fists in anticipation for the last toss

when the ball went up, oikawa’s eyes flashed, arms moving to set and the red-haired spiky guy was now watching which spiker he was going to give it to

however

he tossed it to no one

instead, oikawa’s hand flicked and he dumped the ball

it was like in slow motion and as shiratorizawa’s players scrambled to the floor,

it was too late

the ball bounced on yellow polished floor before rolling away, completely unaware of what just happened and the lives it just changed

your mouth hung open, eyes trailing after the rubber ball like every single people in the gym

then it finally hit you

‘YOOOOOOOOSSSSHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

a scream from iwaizumi lit the candle of happiness and you didnt even care, running out to the court to jump on your captain, tears flowing down his face and his arms squeezing you tightly against his chest

‘AKLDFJJSHKFEOIOWIHFSKESIFOEWIHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

it was all a jumbled noise from everyone, your team, your coaches, the fans in the stand, and even from that orange boy and his team

the boys were hugging each other and crying and sobbing but oikawa’s hold remained on you, your own tears mixing with his sweat and coating his neck

‘you did it, oikawa-san. you did it’

you whimpered and he laughed and you felt him nodding

‘we’re going to tokyo. nationals!’

he choked out

‘OIKAWA!’

the entire gym rumbled and you basked in the joy that the entire team radiated before having to stand with the coaches so they could shake hands with shiratorizawa for a good game

the locker room was loud, even much louder than the gym, with kindaichi’s loud sobbing and mattsuhana’s loud celebratory singing and iwaizumi’s joking shouts and eventually joining in

iwaizumi held his arms out for you and you giggled, crashing straight into him

you wiped his sweat filled face and he sat down on the bench, with you standing between his legs and his large hands gripping your waist

‘it’s not a dream, right?’

he whispered, eyes closed at the gentle feeling of you caressing his face

‘no, iwa-san. nationals is ours’

you soothed and he let out another loud laugh before pulling you close and burying his face in your stomach, probably crying again but this time, out of joy

for years theyve tried

and now, they succeeded

well,,, nationals should be a good thing, right?

hmm,,, maybe the honor of going

but the other players??

oh god

it was obvious when miyagi’s representative entered through those doors and eyes immediately went to their manager

it wasnt like you were the only female manager but you were an unfamiliar team so you have never been seen before

uwu youre so pretty like bow down to the goddess

oikawa’s hold on your hand was tight and his eyes flitted to everyone who looked at them, as if signalling them to back off and you were his

‘wahh, oikawa-san! kageyama told me that the best of the best are in here! he told me to look for fukurodani and nekoma!’

seijoh’s eye twitched at the mention of your new-found friend who you’ve been texting back and forth and him secretly teaching you everything about volleyball since your own team has been too busy preparing for nationals

they watched you try and stand in your tippy toes to find the apparent red and black jerseys and the black, white and gold jerseys

hmm,,,, it seems everyone had the same colors

‘ne, y/n-chan, you trust our team, don’t you? if anything, we’re part of the best of the best! you got the best setter right here!’

oikawa grinned but you nodded distractedly

‘come on, we got to go unpack and train’

iwaizumi nudged so you had to stop looking and you followed your captain, who still held your hand

but this is a typical fanfiction ladies and gents

as you were walking towards the locker room, there was a team that wore maroon colored jackets and were walking towards you

again, this is seijoh’s very first nationals so nobody really knew of them

they were more familiar of the white and purple jackets of shiratorizawa rather than the mint green and white of seijoh

however, oikawa seemed to know them

‘ah’

he whispered out, making you look up at him but his sights were straight towards them, a hard and cold look

‘ara? fresh blood?’

you cringed at the weird analogy and the guy with the black tips, who you infered to be the captain, elbowed him

‘excuse us’

he nodded in greeting and you noticed the guy with the bleach hair and you did a double-take, blinking rapidly

‘oh sangwoo?’

KSLDFJKDLFJSLDK KILL ME ALREADY

watari coughed, knowing exactly what you meant and it seems nobody else did except for the sangwoo look-a-like

and he raised an eyebrow in interest

‘hm? you called?’

another guy with gray hair, who looked exactly like him, rolled his eyes and he pulled him forward to walk after their captain

but he didnt let off yet

as he passed you by, he leaned close, breath fanning your ear

‘but its miya atsumu, baby girl’

ON GOD I WANT TO COMMIT WITH HOW GROSS HE IS LIKE BLS

kyo, who was behind you, growled at him and pulled you behind himself

‘she has name, fcker’

atsumu faked a surprise and backed away with his hands up

‘alrighty, then. didnt know you had a bodyguard, girlie. but maybe,, later on, we could get to know each other. alone’

YALL THIS IS GOING TO GET BETTER LATER I PROMISE HES NOT A WEIRDO PERVERT AS HE SOUNDS

osamu was annoyed and dragged him away, leaving you with your team, who were also extremely pissed off, especially oikawa

‘heh, the best setter in the country and yet he acts like a horny dog’

oikawa seethed, a pointy smile etched on his face

‘eh? best setter?’

you wondered but not given an answer because your captain would be damned if that atsumu decided to show up again

the locker room was actually the same back home

but kindaichi was sobbing again

‘t-this room! the best of the best! i cant-too much-’

you were busy hugging him and wiping his tears to notice the third years huddling over by the corner

oikawa was sitting on the bench while iwaizumi was changing into his practice jersey and the other two were flanked beside the captain

‘of course theyve got their eye on her now’

oikawa mumbled, fingers laced together and touching his lips

‘what can you expect? y/n-chan is an extremely pretty girl’

mattsun shrugged

‘but ugh, if i see that cheese face again,, i will fight’

iwa threatened, angrily slipping his arms through the holes

‘he reeked nasty! gross!’

makki agreed

‘so we’re agreeing to keep her in our sights right?’

they agreed to oikawa’s question and were going to stick by that word

but,,,,

what can you expect from star-struck players?

maybe its because theyve worked for so long to reach this point that the fact that they’re even standing in the tokyo stadium felt like a dream

‘guys, i need to go and fill the bottles really quick’

they mumbled distracted agreements so you sighed and lugged the crate of bottles

thank god there was a fountain nearby and as you were capping the last one, a familiar voice rang from behind you

‘oh? baby girl?’

you flinched at the weird nickname and thought that if you stayed quiet, hed leave

‘chibi? hey?’

he asked and made his way to your side, you closing your eyes and looking off to the side

atsumu thought you were interesting, not like every girl who would spread their legs at him and press up to him

the fact that you even AVOIDED looking at him was so foreign to him and your dismissive attitude made him so drawn to you

‘look, im sorry if i made ya uncomfortable earlier’

he,,, apologized?

but you didnt know who he was so you didnt know how out of character it was for him to even say ‘sorry’

'miya-san, hello’

you mumbled, eyes now opened but still focused on the bottle you gripped

he cracked a smile and was he,,,, nervous?

usually, hed say something dumb or sarcastic to cut the tension, but it was like he was even,,, careful,,, with what he wanted to say next

‘how-um-you like it ‘ere?’

if osamu was to see him now, he’d think his brother was kidnapped by those aliens oikawa swore up and down were real and was replaced by some opposite dimension version of atsumu

you gulped, mustering up a small smile before turning to look at him

‘miya-san, dont take offense to this, but just know i have a very loud voice and i can lift 80 pounds. and im the first one to ever beat iwa-san in an arm-wrestling match’

you puffed your cheeks in intimidation with your eyebrows furrowed but accidentally looking more cute rather than scary

were you,,, threatening him?

atsumu paused for a second to assess the situation and really understand the underlying meaning of your words

then he laughed

a real hearty laugh that made him go for a whole minute

‘-ahahaha!! whew, chibi-chan, ya’r a rare one’

wait i dont know how to type you’re with an accent !!!!!

he let out a few more chuckles then wiped a tear that fell

you just stood there 🧍‍♀️

‘you think its funny, miya-san? yahaba-kun and i also have a supernatural telepathy phenomenon-’

‘chibi-chan, i swear i wont hurt ya’

he promised but you backed your face away, an eyebrow raised

‘thats what they all say. if anything, youre scaring me more so i’ll-’

‘wait’

he held out a hand out but he quickly curled it, pulling it back to his chest

‘i,,,, listen i know how basic this may sound but,,,, youre the first to ever be like this to me’

you rolled your eyes

‘you think i havent heard that before? i have oikawa-san in my team, for god’s sake! ‘youre one of a kind’ ‘youre not like other girls’ yadda yadda’ try harder, miya-san’

you tilted your head with a crooked smile

were you,,, playing hard to get?!

atsumu’s eyes shined, wanting to finally do the chasing rather than being chased

‘well, first off, chibi-chan, i need to know your name’

he leaned forward with his hands buried deep inside his maroon jacket pocket

‘my name? what good will that do? you already call me something else dont you? a name is meant to help people call each other and youve been calling me ‘chibi’ so what’s the point of giving you my birth name?’

even with a straight face, atsumu right away knew of your teasing as your eyes were shining brightly and had a hint of amusement in them

oh my god hes in love with you

he was in disbelief of your attitude towards him so he nodded slowly and laughed again

‘what can i do to earn that name then, chibi-chan?’

ehehehe kuroo,,,,, im in danger

you crossed your arms and pouted, leaning forward

‘ehh? why do you want it so bad? do you call others ‘chibi’ too?’

your expression of suspicion was so adorable that he couldnt stop himself from lunging forward and squeezing your cheeks between his fingers

‘so cute. youre my only chibi, chibi-chan’

you hummed, swiftly wiping his touch away from you

‘doubt it. ive only met you today and you’re already acting like this. what makes you think i think youre genuinely interested in me, miya-san?’

‘fate?’

this time, you chuckled, head leaning down

and as you looked back up, your heart stopped

by the distance, there was a familiar-looking haired boy with golden eyes and an also familiar black hair and steel blue eyes

oh dear

your emotions went sour but you saw the black and white-haired male laugh and the steel eyed male shake his head in disapproval but had the hint of the smallest smile

they,, were now happy

‘fate, you say’

you mumbled distractedly

‘fate instilled magnets in us so i just cant help but be drawn to ya’

atsumu grinned but you averted your eyes to look at him, a soft and genuinely happy look

‘would those magnets be strong enough to draw us together, even if we were in another life? if we were fated, would we meet again?’

you looked up at him, your eyes still glistening but this time, with the slightest bit of hope

atsumu sent you a confused glance but he still shrugged

‘i guess so, if i’m so drawn to you right now. maybe in our past life we were,,, together?’

he tested out, expecting you to roll your eyes and walk away but you laughed

‘well, i just witnessed it happening so maybe its possible?’

you wondered out loud

atsumu blinked again, getting more and more interested in you

‘chibi-chan?’

he asked you and you jumped slightly to look at him with a smile

‘say, miya-san, what if i told you that i remember my past life? and what would you say if i told you that you were in it?’

you grinned but atsumu scrunched his face together before smiling

‘hmm, i dont know what youre sayin but it proves my point!’

he exclaimed but you cocked an eyebrow, a sad smile resting on your lips

‘now what would you say if i told you that you were my nurse?’

a/n: omg i actually hate how this turned out like bls blast me on this

a/n pt 2: during my break, i actually re-read ‘in another life’ and i wrote this up after i finished it again and can i just say? I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CREDITS TO LITTLELUXRAY ON AO3

a/n pt 3: hewwo im back again and since no one replied with a link, i can,,, guess??,,, that the book is gone??? or taken down?? but anyways, i just really wanted to post something and tbh, stuff like this cant be helped but i really do hope that it’s gone and if its not, dkasjdfkslf again send me the link

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manawhaat · 4 years

Text

Howl

Title: Howl

Characters: Alpha!John x Omega!Reader, previous Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam, Jody Mills.

Summary: After spending twelve-hundred years in hell, John Winchester is spit out and lands on The Bunker’s doorstep while you’re away on a case. Sam and Dean insist you stay away until they can help him let go of the Alpha inside him and become human again. But when the bunker unexpectedly locks down the day you return home, you find yourself trapped inside with an Alpha who’s more monster than man.

Prompts: (This fic covers 3 challenges.)

@flamencodiva 1700 challenge - “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

@firefly-in-darkness summer-challenge - Limerence – the state of being infatuated with another person

@wi-deangirl77 Supernatural Schitt Challenge - “Let’s not ruin a meal by talking about the process.”

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, slight angst, dub-con, fear kink, scent kink, blood/minor blood play, hunter/prey dynamics, extreme pining, heat sickness, allusions to stalking, creepy!John, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, biting/scratching, claiming/knotting, breeding kink, true mates, cum play.

Word Count: 7.3k (not even a little bit sorry)

A/N: Huge, huge, HUGE thank you to @mrswhozeewhatsis for helping me make this what it is. You seriously elevate every single story you touch. Hell, you elevate EVERYTHING you touch! @sebbytrash and @sherrybaby14 also did kickass jobs betaing. I had a rough idea about this for a bit before I started to develop it and as soon as I started actually writing, I ended up signing up for a couple challenges, so this fic kills three challenges with one alpha. I liked a lot of quotes in Vanessa’s challenge so there’s actually 4 of them in here even though I only signed up for the one.

Lemme know if you like it, and maybe support my writing❤️❤️

“What do you mean John is back?”

Jody stops in her tracks and her face is a mirror image of yours, so you switch Sam to speaker and hold the phone between you and her.

“He’s back, Y/n.” Sam sighs, voice strained with exhaustion and confusion. “It’s him. He’s not missing a soul or anything but, uhh, he’s… different.”

“Different how?” A million things are running through your brain and you can only imagine what the boys must be thinking.

Shuffling fills your ear, quickly followed by the heavy creak of the bunker’s front door. His voice is quiet when he answers. “He was down there for a long time. It’s like it warped him. He’s-” Sam pauses, searching for the right word before landing on- “feral.”

Jody’s eyebrows shoot up and she clarifies, “Feral?”

Sam huffs. “Yeah. I mean, he’s only been back for a couple of days but the more we watch him and talk to him it’s like he’s more Alpha than human. Jody, I know you guys wrapped up your case but would it be okay if Y/n stayed with you for a bit?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you scoff. “I dealt with your soulless ass and Dean as an actual fucking demon. I can handle a little more testosterone than normal.”

“No.” The voice belongs to Dean. “I’m serious, Y/n. This isn’t like me or Sam in a rut. He was down there for twelve-hundred years. He’s stronger than before he went down there and he’s not himself. Hell really did a number on him. There are some serious red flags here, sweetheart. He’s dangerous, and if something were to happen I’m not sure that we’d be able to protect you.”

“Jesus” Jody breathes.

The length of time put into words makes your stomach churn. The idea of anyone, anything spending so long in hell only to resurface is more than enough to send shivers up your spine.

“We’re not trying to get rid of you. We just need some time to figure things out. He’s barely-” Sam’s voice cracks- “he’s barely human, Y/n. Just give us enough time to make sure you’ll be safe around him, okay?”

Your eyes meet Jody’s and she shoots you a look that says you should listen to them. Making the guys go through this alone fucking sucks, but you trust them. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep my distance. But please keep me updated and let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Sam and Dean sigh in relief. “We will. Thanks, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.”

The guys keep you up to date and a little over a month has passed when you start to feel you’ve overstayed your welcome at Jody’s. You all decide it's time for you to come home and you’re off the following morning.

The drive is long but pleasant and the sight of the bunker looming in the distance is a comfort as you draw near. The iron door swings open and your friends emerge with smiles on their faces, waiting for you to park and get out before crowding you at once.

As they approach, you pick something on the breeze that you’ve never smelled before. Sam pulls you in and the warm spice wafting in the air makes you press your body into his, a little too close, too intimately. He rumbles out a laugh and you just purr in response, letting him feel the heave of your chest against his. It’s only when Dean practically peels you away from his brother that you let yourself moan into Dean’s neck, running your fingers through the back of his hair to pull him closer and get a better whiff.

“God, you guys smell so fucking good,” you admit.

Sam’s brows furrow and he asks if you’re due for a heat.

“Nope. I’ve been taking my pills… Maybe I just missed you guys!” You wink and Dean squeezes your sides, but you playfully slap him away with a broad smile. “Actually, the gift you want is in the trunk. Let me take this stuff in and I’ll come back and help you with the rest,” you promise. “Oh, and where’s John?”

“Went for a walk. He’ll be back in a bit and we’ll introduce you then.”

They rush off to your car while you head inside. The creaky slam behind you is followed by the alarmingly loud clacks and clunks of multiple locks setting into place, the sounds enough to set you on high alert. The lights don’t kick off, so you’re sure the bunker isn’t in full lock down, but before you can investigate the locked door you’re suddenly struck with the scent that you smelled on them outside, It sends a cramp through your belly and you take a deep breath to combat it, almost tasting the air until you’re interrupted when your phone rings. Dean’s face pops up on your screen and you answer the call to hear his voice, light and playful.

“Hey, what the hell? Open up. I know you’re excited to be home, but c’mon. We live here too,” Dean says, half laughing.

When you try the handle, it’s stuck in place. “It’s locked from the inside. I didn’t even touch it.”

“Son of a bitch.”

You stay on the line with him while they try their key from the outside. It doesn’t work and when they point you to the manual lever along the wall, it doesn’t budge. You can’t find any external locks to try on your side so you head down to the war room to try the mechanical system override.

A wave of dizziness washes over you when your foot hits the bunker floor off the bottom of the staircase, but you steel yourself and search the room for what you’re looking for. As if fate is against you, the search is aborted by the wash of a fever flooding your body.

It only takes a minute or two, but emotions and hormones slam through you at an alarming rate. Your heart and brain race as your body temperature kicks up a few degrees.

No, no, no. I’m taking suppressants. This can’t be happening. How is this happening so fast?

Sam and Dean are audibly yelling outside and through your phone, bickering about how to get into the bunker and that they should have known you’d go into heat upon returning to the smell of them. But their worried voices are muffled by a fog that comes over you, and somewhere in the bunker there’s a low growl that has your ears perking up. The sound is so faint you’re not sure it’s even real, until it comes again.

Your blood runs cold and you grip the phone tight in your hand, eyes wide as you look into the dark expanse of the bunker. “Guys… I think I just heard something.”

Their efforts to break down the front door stop cold. “What did you hear?”

Just then, the growl comes again and sends shivers up your spine. It’s the voice of a predator somewhere in the depths of the bunker you’re trapped in.

“I- I don’t think I’m alone in here.”

The fever and pain in your lower belly spike again and you’re almost crippled by the scent in the air. It’s faint but your body would know it anywhere, and before you can think about it you’re thrust into a strong and sudden heat that has you boiling and worried. Fresh slick gushes through your core, leaking into your underwear as you moan lewdly, clinging to the wall for support.

“Oh, fuck. Alpha!”

The phone remains loosely held in your grip but it’s dropped to your side as you rush through the halls, completely oblivious to Dean calling your name and warning you to stay where you are.

Every step you take has your body buzzing harder and harder. The sounds have stopped but the scent is getting stronger. Your mouth is dry with need and your body is almost reaching its peak just on the pulse of sheer power you’re being drawn in by.

The door to the dungeon is in front of you when your feet finally stop. Part of you registers that you’ve moved through the entire bunker in a matter of seconds, and wants you to stop and think about that for a minute, but the energy surging through your blood urges you to reach out and open the door.

“Don’t open that door!”

The voice booms through your skull, echoes off the bunker walls, shocks you, and fills your body with cold dread. Flinching back in surprise, your back hits the wall and you suddenly remember Dean on the phone. He’s rambling, but you cut him off with worry and lust fighting for dominance in your heart.

“Dean, I can feel him,” you admit, not even realizing it until after the words have echoed back at you in Dean’s voice.

“Don’t go in that room,” he warns. Commands. Your inner omega should be cowering. That’s twice you’ve been told and yet your body is quickly starting to think those words are more of a dare than a warning.

“It’s him, isn’t it? It’s John.”

A groan slithers through the cracks of the door at the sound of his name on your tongue and you know you’re right.

“He must have gotten back without us noticing. He’s dangerous, Y/n. Do not go into that room. Come back and help us find a way to get you outta there before you get hurt!”

You register the guys talking to you, yelling at you, warning you and begging you, but your body is moving on its own accord.

“Omega, stop!” John barks at you from the dungeon and you whine with need, sinking to your knees and taking in shaky breaths.

Sam’s voice catches your attention and you hear him in the middle of his sentence. “...away from there. Go to your room, take another suppressant and use your toys to calm down. Please don’t argue. If you’re going into heat then you need to leave right now. You aren’t safe there.”

Picking yourself up off the ground, you shake your head and try to break the spell. They’ve kept you away for a reason and if the guys are this worried, you should probably try to listen to them. Four steps is all you manage to take before the pain in your lower belly becomes too much and you slump against the wall. Now that you’ve been this close to the caged alpha, your body won’t let you leave.

“Guys,” you pant, sucking in ragged breaths to steel yourself from the pain. You take another two steps and collapse, screaming in agony as your nerves shred themselves, ripping themselves apart trying to escape your body and get closer to John.

Chains rattle, metal scrapes in the dungeon, and the snarls that burst from John’s chest have Sam and Dean calling for you through the phone. You grip it tight, crawl back down the hall, and sigh in relief as you give your body what it wants and the pain eases. When you settle against the wall across the hallway, the distressed sounds behind the dungeon door calm.

“I can’t.”

Hot tears prick at your eyes as you stare at that door in horror and need. You’ve hated being a weak omega with little to no say over your own life since the day you presented, and now what little control you’ve managed to find (with the help of the brothers) is slipping through your fingers. You don’t want this, but you are completely and utterly unable to deny it.

“I can’t leave. I need him.”

Soft sobs are the last thing the boys hear tumble from your mouth before you hang up and toss the phone away.

If you can’t leave, you’re gonna stay and do everything you can to listen to the men in your life. So you tear open your jeans and stuff your hands inside, desperate to quell the throbbing between your legs and gain back some semblance of control over your body.

On instinct, your mind goes to Dean. He’s been exactly who you needed him to be and he’s never let you down. Every touch serves a purpose, and his skill always afforded you the luxury of being in expert hands. But here and now, the more you think about him, the less you can remember; not the feel of his fingers inside you, let alone the taste of his tongue or girth of his knot when it’s locked you together.

A cry of Dean’s name fills the air, as if calling out to him will magically bring him to you. Will restore the memory and give you the headway you need. But Dean’s pushed out of your mind and before you realize, the images that fill your brain are of the man behind the door. Photos you’ve seen in passing over the years in Sam and Dean’s rooms and journals. The memories are a little fuzzy, but you have enough of the mental image to piece him together. Broad shoulders, thick neck, long legs, and strong hands.

Choking on desire, you’re frozen still and silent, pussy fluttering wetly around two fingers. An angry rattle of chains meets your ears on the other side of the door and you push your fingers through your folds for him, for the alpha you’ve yet to meet. The stranger that’s sent you tumbling down into this overwhelming heat.

“I can smell what you’re doin’ sweetheart,” he says through the door, and you hear him inhale long and slow; you know that he’s savoring the smell of your dripping cunt.

It’s enough to have you kicking off your pants and tearing off your shirt. The air around you is sweltering and your clothes are already soaked with sweat and slick. Your panties are wet against the back of your hand as you fuck yourself dizzy, try desperately to run from that pain and the overwhelming inevitable that’s flaring in your blood the longer you sit outside the dungeon.

Unbearable pain vibrates through your cells as you reach an almost orgasm. Everything is a blur and your tongue is heavy and dry in your mouth. You’re slowly suffocating and going blind, burning and dying. Heat sickness has always been a myth in your mind, but now you’re feeling it and you cry out in fear and frustration, worried that this might just be how you die. As if he can hear your thoughts, as if he can feel you growing weaker with every passing minute, your alpha rages and a roar booms through the bunker. It’s not anger or lust, but fear, and it matches your own.

You muster your strength and bravery, crawl across the hall and finally push open the dungeon door. Heat spills from the room and it’s musty with the pheromones he’s putting in the air, the sweat on his skin, and the need in his blood.

Wrenching back the shelves, you meet John Winchester face to face for the first time. He’s sitting in the middle of the dungeon in jeans and a flannel shirt. It’s buttoned over a black t-shirt and his sleeves are rolled enough for you to see the raised veins on his forearms. Chains and rope surround his body, strapping him tightly to the iron chair in the center of the room.

As you step closer, your initial analysis of his bindings is wrong. The padlock is near his right hand, the knots of rope at his hands are sloppy, and the chains on his upper body give him enough room to move a little against them. The only one that’s really secure is the padlocked chain collar around his neck.

“Like my handiwork?” he asks as you eye him. “Tied the knots and wrapped these chains, myself… but these won’t hold. I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t be able to stop when I get out. And I will get out.”

John shifts against the bindings as you step closer, bares his teeth to reveal elongated canines that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The veins in his neck are clear and visible, blood pumping through them hard and fast, and his teeth bite into his lower lip when you step into the devil’s trap.

Drops of blood spill out of his mouth and a shudder wracks through you- he’s hurting himself in his effort to stay still- but you can’t control yourself. You’re too far gone now that you’re this close.

“I need you, John. Need your knot. Need you inside me. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The words are the first you’ve spoken to him and they surprise you both. John hardens himself, slams his eyes shut and strains in this seat, holding himself as far away from you as possible until you rip your underwear off your body as a show of your desperation.

The scent of your soaked pussy makes his blood boil and a roar builds deep in his chest to explode out of his mouth. His body writhes with the force of it but in a flash the powerful sound turns into a menacing cackle. Wild eyes widen up at you and his blood-stained teeth have your full attention when his tongue tracks over them.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re gonna taste so good.” His hands grip at the arms of the chair, thick, sharp claws dig into the wood enough for it to splinter. “I’m gonna tear you apart,” he laughs, full bodied, crows feet at his eyes, mouth split wide open on his face.

Part of you doesn’t want to believe him. There’s a throb in your core that calls out for him, that yearns to feel his lips and skin against yours. Slick pools between your legs and John sucks in a long, harsh, deep breath, pupils expanding as he savors your scent.

“You think this is a game, baby girl?” Your pussy flutters at his words, even as his demeanor darkens further. “You’re gonna bleed, just like all those people on my rack in hell. Gonna sink my claws into you, see where you rip and where you hold up, see how hard I have to bite to get you to beg me to stop. Gonna break your bones and give it to you harder when that little omega pussy is busted open and bleeding around me. Stick around, send me into this rut and you’ll be wishing you never set foot in this bunker. That’s a fuckin’ promise.”

The thought of being torn apart is that of nightmares. Dean had rough ruts after hell, but he was right: John is dangerous. Every rational thought in your brain is telling you to run, to find a way back to Dean, but there’s an electricity in the air that tugs your ions closer to his.

His eyes are dark and stormy, the muddy wash bordering on red, and salt and pepper spread through his dark hair and the beard clinging to his strong jaw. Tentatively, your hands reach out for him and he hisses, jumps at you with dripping teeth and dark eyes, guttural sounds tearing from his throat as he struggles to get to you.

In an effort to sate your heat and keep your distance, a dizzying compromise lands at your feet. If you can take what you need from him, you might be able to gain the higher ground. If you give your heat what it wants fast enough, you can outrun him and gain control of your body again. Only half of your heart believes it, but you can’t stop yourself from easing into his lap to test the theory.

Heat sears your crotch where you grind down onto him, rolls off of him in waves that leave you in a cold sweat. “Will you come to my funeral, John? Will you watch me burn to a pile of ash on a shitty pyre? Because you’re gonna have to if I don’t do this… if you don’t knot me right fucking now.”

“I might have to either way, darlin’,” he growls, the chain collar around his neck clunking and rattling with his effort to both get closer to you and keep away all at the same time. The blood on his lower lip forms into a fat drop, lingers on his skin like it doesn’t want to leave, and you watch it fall and land on your inner thigh where you’re straddling him.

Even with his dark promises, your hands hastily pluck apart the buttons of his jeans and pull the material down to reveal a thick shaft surrounded by dark hair. He’s rock hard in your hands and before you can waste any more time your pussy is stretched open around him, every inch of his throbbing cock stuffed inside your slick walls.

You sigh contentedly as your heat settles, now that it has a taste of what it wants. Just having him inside you feels better than anything you’ve ever felt before, and a ragged howl escapes his throat at the rough slams of your hips down into his when you finally start to move.

Everything stands still while you take what you need from the alpha beneath you, claim him as your own with high pitched whimpers of his name, giving in to your most primal instincts. Every thrust has the two of you reeling toward the edge of bliss embarrassingly fast, and you grip his hair to force his eyes to yours when you’re close.

“Watch me, John. Watch me cum for you.”

Your efforts double, you slam your mouth into his, taste him for the first time, and cry out against his lips as the tingle of your orgasm spreads through your belly and explodes through you. The feel of you coming around him pushes John past the point of no return and into his rut. He’s tried to hold back, tried to tame the animal inside and protect you the way a good alpha should, but each buck of your hips has him barreling into a rut that you can smell, stifling and hot with a hint of sulfur, while you tremble in his lap and ride out your pleasure.

John’s eyes change- swirl from deep brown into an onyx wash that clears into a deep red that mirrors the emergency lights of the bunker. His body shakes and spikes another ten degrees in an instant and when you’re sure he’s about to actually catch on fire, an electric pulse consumes him, and then you. The surge shoots out of your bodies and the bunker lights flash with loud sparking pops before instant darkness falls through the bunker.

The red emergency lights and bright white flood lights kick a moment later, just in time for you to see John’s muscles tensing as he pulls at the chains he’s wrapped in, his rut taking him to full power. They groan and creak, and it’s when one snaps with a loud rattle that you realize the true strength of him.

“Oh my god.” You cower in awe, hormones no longer fuzzing your brain, before scrambling out of his lap. However, you’re not quite quick enough to facilitate your escape.

“You’re mine.”

A thick arm wraps around your back, and you shriek at the sharp sting of his claws on your hip. His one-handed attempt to keep you there with him draws blood, and you desperately wriggle out of his hold and off of his lap before rushing off into the bunker.

Two hallways pass by your sides before the clamor of breaking chain and splintering wood rattles into the bunker and stops you in your tracks. The wolf in him cries out for you, and a primal part of you is desperate to howl back. An eerie silence follows, sinks in bone deep, and you clap a hand over your mouth to stay quiet when you start moving again.

You don’t get very far before you walk into a brick wall of his scent, tumbling further under a tall, crashing wave of heat trying to drag you down to the depths of a hellfire made of a Winchester. The scent of the alpha radiates strong and insistent, and the door shuts quietly behind you as you slip inside, eyes keenly observing your room drenched in John’s scent.

At first glance, you see no differences, but the weight of the air tells you to look closer, and when you do you find that everything in your room is slightly off; as if all of your personal possessions have been picked through but weren’t put back into their rightful place.

The sheets on the bed have clearly been slept in and a pair of your underwear on the ground catch your eye. The soft pink material is moist when you pick them up and the smell that wafts up from them is unmistakable.They fall to the ground without a sound and you shakily wipe John’s cum off of your hands onto your sheets with a grimace of repulsion. How many times had he used your clothes for his pleasure? How many times had he laid in your bed, eyed the photos of your long gone family and defiled your intimacy?

John hadn’t even met you, yet, but from the time the boys brought him home he’s picked you open and left you exposed, vulnerable, and violated. He’s been living in the walls of your home, spending his nights in your bed just waiting for his moment to strike. The thought leaves your legs weak beneath you and you suddenly can’t breathe.

Bursting out of your room, you cling to the walls for support, searing pressure building in your lower belly as you move. If you’re in pain, you must be getting farther away from him. The hope in that thought is enough to stifle the pain and you’re crawling toward the library when your name is howled out into the bunker.

“Alpha,” you moan back against your own will, hands clapping over your mouth in an effort to stop the sound that’s already made its escape.

Two steps forward, five steps back.

Soft shuffling off in the distance switches directions and you know that John heard you call out for him. Panic bubbles in your blood and you battle pain, confusion, and need as you turn left toward your imminent escape path, eyes cast behind you in apprehension. You make it less than halfway down the long hall before you turn your eyes forward, finally sure that you’re on the path to freedom.

Stopping in your tracks, you stare in horror at the dead end before you. In your panic, you realize that you were supposed to turn right to get out, and you’ve just sealed your fate with one wrong turn.

Adrenaline and defeat kick around in your body and you know he’s going to find you. On cue, your body grows warmer, slicker and needier for him, and an electric crackle fills the air, telling you he’s getting close. He knows your scent too well and though you can’t see him, you’ve already been caught. Running will only make you weaker, so your stand still, waiting for the inevitable.

Soft shuffling has your ears pricking up at attention and your heart stops when you finally muster the gall to turn around and face your fate. John’s looming at the end of the hall, standing stock still just long enough for your pussy to leak and flutter for him. It’s that reaction that has him barreling down the hall on all fours like an animal, red eyes gleaming, claws scraping at the floor. He’s the most feral, lethal predator you’ve ever seen and this is what Sam and Dean warned you about. This is how you’ll meet your end- throat torn out by this hell sent Alpha with a cursed last name.

The child in your soul is the first to react, and your hands fly to cover your eyes. Maybe if you squeeze them shut tight hard enough you’ll wake up from this bad dream. Maybe you’ll be able to crawl back into your mother’s bed and find safety in her arms instead of death in John’s.

Your palms press painfully hard against your eyelids while you wait for the hit that never comes. What feels like years pass without a sound, and when you finally let your hands fall from your eyes all you can see is John’s mouth, the tension at the corners where he’s trying to restrain the snarl, white teeth practically dripping.

Body trembling and petrified at the way you pine for him, this wild stranger in front of you, your feet take a step closer to him without your permission. When your chest presses to his, the tears finally roll down your cheek and his mouth slams into yours. He hauls you up off the ground and your legs wrap around his waist before you’re slammed against the wall. All it takes is a slight shift of his hips and he’s inside of you again, splitting you open and swallowing your cries. He spins and a door breaks against the bottom of his boot a few seconds later, clattering to the floor while he lays you down on the bed and fucks an orgasm out of you with splinters still in your hair.

The orgasm hits hard and you’re still writhing in pleasure when John pulls out, shoves you up the bed, and pushes his mouth as far between your legs as it can go. He’s only just begun, but you’ve never been touched this way- this profound or this intensely. If you weren’t still in a blur, you’d be wondering how long John’s waited to worship someone like this.

Every lungful of air you’re able to suck in sticks heavy in your chest and throat. There’s a weight to the room that feels like you’re on another planet. In another dimension. All you can manage are gasps and moans and you finally splutter out ‘how?!’ because your brain literally cannot understand it. How can this feel so good? How can this possibly feel so right? How does he fit here so well?

He grins up at you, fire in his wild gleaming eyes when he growls, “Let’s not ruin a meal by talking about the process.”

As he devours you, takes you apart piece by piece, his lust-blown eyes shine up at you. They hold a lifetime of secrets and your body steals any semblance of control you might have been holding onto, bucks up into his mouth, pushes itself into his hands.

John holds you like you’re the most important thing he’s ever beheld. His infatuation and reverence sparks an epiphany. The monster between your legs isn’t donning a mask. John is a mirror, clear and revealing, exposing a part of you that you never knew you had before.

You moan his name, voice hard and eager to please. Eager to be pleased, filled, fucked ten ways to Sunday. You want John to ruin you, split you open with that cock and make you a ragged shell for nothing but pleasure and pups. The more he takes of you the more you want him; and the more you give in, the less afraid you are--of him and of your own desire.

John fucks you raw and hard like an animal, bruises your wrists and sinks his teeth into your body, breaking the skin here and there, licks and sucks marks between the bites he has no control over. What started as worship turns to chaos, and true to his word, he doesn’t relent, not even when you’re begging for mercy. Claws leave raised welts and lines of blood over your body as he digs his hands into your flesh, pushes and pulls you where he wants you, handling you like a rag doll for his pleasure.

The sheets beneath you are bloody and somewhere in his frenzied mating you feel yourself tearing around him in a sharp sting. A moment later, your inner thighs are wet with blood and slick and the wet squelch only has him bucking into you deeper and faster. Salty tears run down your cheeks as you cry out, but John ignores them and suffocates you beneath him. His claws scratch at your skin when he wraps a hand around your neck and grunts into your ear.

“Right here, Y/n. That’s where my mark is going. You ready for it?”

The question goes unanswered; all you can manage are strangled groans of ‘alpha’ and sobs of pain and fear before his pace speeds up. His knot throbs inside of you, stretches your walls that much more, and he pulls back enough to look down at you.

Tears litter your cheeks and you’re flushed, wrecked, and battered under his hands. John drives in deep with a smile on his mouth, savors the way you wince in pain at the feel of him slamming against your cervix like he’s trying to fuck your womb.

Long canines bite down hard where your neck and shoulder meet as John slams into you one final time. The red floodlights bathing the scene flicker and surge as your energies peak. His knot pops deep inside, painfully thick, locking him in place as he cums with a roaring howl that matches your own. The sound is guttural, primal, filled with pleasure and pain, and loud enough for Sam and Dean to hear from outside.

--------------------

An hour after he’s claimed you and his knot has popped inside of you, you lay in his arms, unsure of everything other than the fact that you belong there. That John belongs inside of you, pressed deep and eternal. Every bit of your body hurts and his hands smooth over you, gentler than you even think possible, like a monster soothing a lamb before the slaughter. The white gleam of the flood lights in the hall outside illuminate the side of his face when he smiles softly down at you, his teeth and hands still stained with your blood.

Fear has a hold on you, hasn’t fully let you go yet. John is a stranger to you but here you are, clinging to his warm chest, body and soul marked as his in every way, forever. There’s a depth to his mossy brown eyes that reminds you of the men on the outside. Of Dean. The alpha who’s cared for you in the past, taken you in, and given you a home and family to love like your own.

It seems a lifetime ago since you were in this same position with Dean. From the first time you met, every heat and rut you went through, you went through together. The memories of how he used to kiss you, soft and comforting, and tell you cute jokes while his knot deflated send flickering warmth through your heart. But all too quickly, the happy memory is followed by a pang of hurt shooting through you.

Like magnets, you were drawn to each other, but Dean never claimed you because deep down you both knew that you weren’t his to have. Now, with John’s mark on your neck, heats and ruts with Dean are gone and you can’t help but wonder what the future will hold. If every heat and rut will feel like this one, or if you might be lucky enough to get a glimpse of the caring, playful alpha of your past. Tears roll down your cheeks and your mouth quivers at the thought of living with such brutality.

“You have his eyes,” you finally say, unable to keep the thought of Dean to yourself any longer. His brow furrows and you clear your throat. “Dean’s eyes.” He doesn’t respond, just levels you with a look you can’t place. “Well, I guess he has yours.”

A hasty kiss cuts off any other thoughts and you give in, letting that mouth soothe you in all the ways you know it can’t...shouldn’t. Not right now. Not yet. Not when you’re still reeling with fear and confusion and the crackling flame of your heat casting grim shadows through your future.

“I know,” he coos, his gravelly voice wrecked with emotions you’re both trying to come to terms with. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen. Not me meeting you, and definitely not this….”

John’s long fingers swipe over his claim on your neck, retreating at the small wince of pain he earns from you. Guilt worms into his chest and he holds you there, mouth just a kiss away from his.

He knows the answer but asks anyway. “Are you scared of me?”

You nod, shy but honest. “Yes.”

John hisses in disappointment, at himself and at you. How could you not love him the way he loves you? The way he’s loved you since he set foot in here and smelled you lingering in the air. He felt you wrap yourself around him when he paced the halls at night; slept in your bed to know you just a little more. He’s been obsessed with the ghost of you, and now you’re his.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you,” he admits, and your heart flutters, caught off guard by the meaning behind it. “Always thought it was Mary, but the second I walked in here, I knew. It was you.”

“I don’t want this,” your mouth spits out before you can stop it, before you can realize that you’re lying to his face.

John grins, gummy and wide, strikes fear in you with his irrefutable confidence but pulls you closer and speaks against your lips. “I knew, Y/n. Smelled this omega pussy every time I walked by your room. Didn’t say anything to the boys about it- didn’t wanna upset them- but I knew you before they even told me your name or that they had my omega here just waiting for me to come and claim her.” His hands stroke your cheeks and those eyes bore into you and unhinge you with the kind of care that only someone truly out of control can conjure.

“I could feel your energy when I touched your things, could smell this hot cunt on your laundry.” He inhales, the action crude and obscene. “Sleep didn’t come so easy, but the second I laid down in here it was like I could feel you pressing yourself up against me. I knew you and had you every night, so when I smelled you come through the door I knew I had to lock myself up or this would happen.” A chuckle escapes his lips. “Well, guess it was meant to happen, huh?”

Even with his claim on your neck, you can’t do anything other than gape at him. You’re mortified and enthralled by his words, and secretly long for freedom from his overwhelming intensity.

He shifts a little so you can feel his knot inside you and coos gently at the anxious whimper you let out. Gathering you closer to him, John feels your heart race against his. As if his touch is all you need, the exhaustion of the day starts to drag you down and there’s blood on his tongue when he kisses you goodnight.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha.”

Those are the last words you hear before tumbling into a dark and dizzying sleep.

--------------------

When you wake, it’s to the feel of thick fingers splaying you open, rubbing your swollen labia and massaging your inner thighs. Time is lost in the bunker and in your heat. It could be twenty minutes or a year later and your body wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Not when broad shoulders have your thighs pushed apart, the contented sigh on your lips turning harsh at the slick drag of John’s tongue.

He licks over you, parts your folds to find your clit, then sucks hard and makes his way down to your fucked-out slit. The wet, thick squish of his old cum seeping out of you vanishes when John forces his tongue inside to scoop it out and swallow it down. Shuddering violently against it, you fist his hair and kick off the blankets to finally look down at him. His eyes are red and your fever is raging again.

“My boys ever do this? Eat their cum from your little omega pussy?” he asks. It’s dirty and fucked up, wrong on so many levels, but he’s got a gleam in those treacherous eyes and you moan back against your better judgment.

“Don’t… keep it in me.”

Pride overwhelms him and his teeth dent his lower lip as he grins up at you. “Okay, sweetheart-” he sinks his fangs lightly into your flesh, holds it for a second and then gives you the painful satisfaction of breaking the skin- “yeah, let’s keep it in you. Make sure we get some pups in this gorgeous belly.”

Mewling in agreement, he releases his bite on your inner thigh and stalks back over you. Eager to feel him inside of you again, you pull at him and whimper his name so needy and so sweet that he sinks into you while he’s still soft. He’s pliant and warm as he pushes his old cum back into you, until he’s as deep as he can go, blunt tip squished up against your cervix. John’s right back where he belongs, and you can’t help but whimper at the small amount of lost cum that seeps out around him. As if he knows what you’re thinking, he licks at your lips, lets you taste his seed on his tongue and assures you in that midnight-dark voice the way only a stranger, only a soulmate, can.

“Don’t worry, omega. Your heat’s not done yet, and I’ve only just started my rut. We’ll get another load in here, soon enough. You’re gonna be so full of me and my pups.” He kisses your jaw. “All round.” Fingers squeeze at your tender breasts. “So beautiful,” he grunts, thrusting up enough for you to wince at the tight pinch of him so deep.

His mouth follows a pre-marked path down to the fresh marks on your neck -- the one bite on your body that actually means anything -- and his long, sharp fangs reopen his mark and sink down further into your flesh to solidify his claim. The power of his bite aches deep into the muscle and blood seeps out of the corners of his mouth. Sucking and licking your claim, John bites you over and over, deeper each time. All you can do is gasp and groan beneath him in pain and arousal, fingers raising blood on his back as you scratch a path down to his ass to pull him in closer. Trying to fuse your body and his in any way possible, to share breaths and blood if you can, even if it’s only through your warm needy mouths.

“Those boys aren’t getting to you any time soon, Y/n. I don’t think this place is gonna let anyone in or out until I’m done with you.” His hand wraps around your neck, pushes high to grip the edge of your jaw, and the pinch of his fingers against the bone lures a hiss from deep within you. “You’re mine, understand?”

You nod as best you can, eyes fluttering shut as he grows harder inside you and hotter against you with another flare of his rut. There isn’t anything in the world that could take this from you. You don’t know John, especially this dark version of him spat out of hell, but you’re his and he’s yours. True mates. And you’re convinced that the strong current that vibrates between you will keep you locked in here with him until your heat and his rut have died off.

“All fucking mine,” he says as he pulls you closer, the promise raw and real, and you’ll follow this monster anywhere.

Even to your death.

#john winchester x reader #alpha x omega #flamencodivacelebrates1700 #that's some supernatural schitt #firefly's summer challenge

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redheadedpineapple · 3 years

Text

televised ch. 1: anticipation

Day 20: Ghost Akaashi Keiji GN!Reader reader can play instruments, akaashi dies, depicts it but not in much detail, a tinsie bit of blood, supernatural stuffs

masterlist | next

in which an overworked akaashi learns to take it slow with a still-alive reader

Akaashi Keiji died in his own home at age 23, 3 years ago. He was far too young and far too overworked for a selfless, handsome man with a decent income. After a long, exhausting day of work where he stayed for an extra 4 hours, he forgot to lock the front door. Vigilant, observant, keen Akaashi was far too tired to care.

Responsible Akaashi knew he needed to take a shower and change out of his clothes, but he saw the piling laundry in the basket and decided that he would shower tomorrow.

Even being a light sleeper, he hardly noticed the sounds of rummaging in his home. His very own home, the property he’d already nearly paid off so soon. Once his final payment was made, he promised himself he’d take it easier.

Tired Akaashi did not ignore the sound of shattering dishes; his subconscious couldn’t let him dismiss it like he did the rummaging. Foggy eyes checked the alarm clock, but the red blinking 02:27 did not register with his half asleep mind. It was more out of habit than anything. He hardly picked his feet off the ground enough, shuffling across his room and down the stairs.

At the third step from the bottom, Akaashi rubbed his eyes and squinted through the darkness. The living room was empty, but not in the state he left it. The kotatsu table was flipped over, and there were 2 black, empty, duffle bags. Hushed whispers and murmurs brought his attention to the kitchen.

Before he had the chance to do anything---had the chance to call the police or tell them to get out or take even one more step---he was thrown to the floor by a heavy sweep of a crowbar. A big man with a beer belly and a long beard stiffly poking out of his ski mask looked down at his cowering form from five steps up. Four steps. Three. Until he stood just above his sorry body. With both hands gripped tight around the handle, the man lifted the crowbar above his head.

Even with his spinning vision and aching brain, he knew to try and get away. He turned to his side and stretched out his arm in a feeble attempt to crawl away. Maybe it was a bad idea, because just as he pushed himself a bit forward, the metal crushed his upper back, just to the left of his spine. A gargled groan was pushed from his throat. His arm trembled, shoulder aching and jolting with pain. He could feel blood trickle out from his temple, where he’d been hit already.

A whispered chant of pleas begged the men to let him go, swears he wouldn't tell and promises he’d give them money, but it all came out as jumbled sobs. When the weight on his back lifted, he was both relieved and terrified. Choking out pained weeps is all he could manage, the daunting fear of the metal colliding with his body again clouding his mind.

When it finally did, he only had a few moments to care about the burning agony in his skull before he didn’t even have the ability to care. Even with his heart pumping desperately to keep his brain capable, it couldn’t do enough before a knife was sunk into it, snaring any last bits of hope he might’ve had.

Akaashi rolled over and sat up, refreshed and ache free. Even the soreness from working long hours with poor posture and stressing for days straight was gone. Everything was really bright, and he had trouble adjusting to the blinding lights. As he picked himself off the floor, he stretched out of habit and blinked a few long times to get used to the light.

He looked around at his trashed living room, and he sighed. Please, please please please…

Behind him on the floor was his own body, face down and still bleeding. If it wasn’t for the handle of the knife stuck out from the back and profuse bleeding, one might’ve thought it was just a slip down the stairs. He thought he looked sad and pathetic; an overworked manga editor outstretched on the floor with blood pooled around him, flies buzzing around. It was dizzying white noise as he stared at his dead body, shakily bending down to his own self.

With his dead body’s face turned slightly, he could see the heavy bags beneath his eyes. He wondered if he had them too, then looking down at the thought to see if he even had a body. He did; he could see his own hands that responded at his will, fingers curling and stretching as he wished. Behind his nimble fingers was his dead body, and some twisted curiosity in him told him to reach out to it, but he winced and sighed.

Akaashi stood and wandered up the stairs and into his room. It was messy, and he regretted not cleaning it sooner. If he thought about it, he’d realise he regretted a lot of things, but that was a pondering for later. Maybe he’d think about it when he had nothing else to think about in his sad, lonely death.

Fifteen minutes of staring at his belongings was more than enough. He began to feel the room getting bigger and the ever looming weight of regret choking him. and he made his way back downstairs, grimacing at the sight of his dead body at the bottom.

He ignored it and trudged towards the kitchen. Glass shards and dust sparkled across the tile floor, glittering in the morning sunlight. If he could, he would’ve started crying, but he couldn’t. With every bit of forced trembled lips and tightening of his chest came a wave of disappointment and embarrassment.

Akaashi sat on the couch for the most part; it was one of the few items he purchased to make his home feel home-y. He didn’t decorate much or even get a television. Instead, he kept to his purchases to a minimum and only got what he deemed necessary.

He sat there with his knees to his chest as the police came and as the investigators filed in and out. When the house was empty, he regretted not having purchased a TV. It was so quiet. Painfully quiet. It didn’t bother him before; he could sit in the silence for hours, sipping on tea or reading or working. But then, he had a purpose. He knew he had something to do. Now, it was nothing. Nothing to look forward to. He couldn’t even dread going to work.

And he wondered what happened to the ones who murdered him. He wanted the relief of knowing that at least some justice was served. Wanted to know what type of people he was killed by, what they’d say in defense. Isolation was his only thing he got.

Even as he tried to look forward to seeing other human beings, it wasn’t the same. It was just looking at shells of people without being able to interact with them. What’s the point of being with other human beings when it means nothing that you’re even there?

Three years of loneliness was all he had to bear before you moved in. He recognised you as you came in and out of the house over and over, previewing it before signing the documents. He didn’t take much interest in you, too wrapped up in himself. At least, he didn’t care much until the soft tune of music pulled his attention.

In his life---his sad, short life he learned to abhor---he never paid much mind to music. He lived too fast to care or bother with music. Maybe he’d put some on in the background, but he never really listened to it.

Upstairs, where his work room used to be just next to his bedroom, you sat with perfect posture at the keyboard. It was no grand piano, but it sounded beautiful. It was even more special as he watched your half lidded eyes scan the keys and your careful, yet relaxed and graceful fingers glide across the keys.

He never believed in love at first sight, and he still doesn’t, but he had to admit he’d never been so captivated by a human being as he had been by you.

𝄥𝄞────────── 𝄇

You didn’t care much for superstitions. It was fun to poke about with though, look into what other people believe and look at everything there is to know about it, even if you don’t believe in everything you come across. You liked to learn, liked to say ‘fuck it’ and go with what you wanted to. And it seemed like you learned to choose to want to do mundane tasks.

Akaashi noticed that. He noticed how you woke up like it was a blessing, not a chore. He watched how you drank your morning coffee slowly and enjoyed every sip. You didn’t just drink it because it was there and it was routine, you just enjoyed the beverage. He was jealous he didn’t live like that when he was alive. It was like you knew he was there, like you knew how lucky you were compared to him, learning from his depressing life. He shook his head. He needed to pull his mind out of the depths of self pity.

During the hours you were gone, Akaashi Keiji sat in front of your keyboard and tried to play. He couldn’t interact much---it took a lot of his energy to really make any effect on the world around him---but he practiced while it was off, finding enough joy in the quiet clicks of the keys. He imagined he played a rather distasteful tune, but he could pretend otherwise.

When you were home, he liked to watch what you were doing. Usually, he liked his alone time, but he had enough while you were away. So he followed you like a shadow, enjoying the way you lived life. It was freeing.

As the weeks passed, loneliness swelled in his chest and he wondered if he could interact with you. Could he talk? He felt embarrassed to even try. Instead, he pushed his boundaries more and more, making his presence near palpable.

Until the boundaries are crossed. It’s your off day, and you’re picking up the cello for the first time in a while. It’s cathartic, pulling and pushing the bow against the strings as deep, soothing notes resonate in the house. Akaashi is surprised to hear the sound, curiosity drawn from the television you left on, to the music you were creating upstairs.

One slow step at a time, he makes his way up the stairs and into your little music room. The door is nearly closed, and he pushes it open with a small creak. It was more than enough to draw your attention from your playing.

Your eyes dart up, and for a split second, you make eye contact. Stormy, sea green eyes stare back at you for a brief moment. He runs, sprinting faster than he ever thought he could in life.

Rushing to set your cello and bow down, you hurry downstairs to follow the man. “Wait! Hello?”

Maybe you should just call the cops, panic and fear the fact that someone’s broken into your house. But you can’t manage to find it in your heart when the intruder looks like the dead man who lived in your house prior and when your mind is infested with the thousands of ghost stories and tales of the supernatural.

Grabbing corners and turning as quickly as you can, you try to find the man you swear you saw.

“Akaashi Keiji? Hello? Uh, if you’re here in this room with me give me a sign? Er, hello?”

Disappointed, your shoulders slump.

“I’m not going insane right?”

No answer.

Maybe you are.

You catch a glimpse of fabric in a doorway, and you chase after it. “Hello?-”

You nearly fall backwards at the sight of the man standing in front of you. He opens his mouth, licks his lips, then closes it again. Something must be very interesting on the floor, his eyes glued to it just as much yours are stuck on him.

“Akaashi Keiji. That’s your name, right?”

He nods.

“Uhm… you’re, you’re uh. Here. But you’re, ah. Oh god. Holy shit.”

He wishes he has an explanation for you. Like: yeah, he’s here, and also here’s an encyclopaedia’s worth of information on how dead people work and a whole lecture about why he’s there. But he didn’t even know for himself.

You reach out to him, offering to shake hands. You want to tackle him and try and convince yourself you’re crazy for not calling the cops, but you can’t find the energy.

Staring with all your focus, you watch your hand as his comes into view, stretching to meet you halfway. You surely can’t find the energy to call anyone when you watch his hand pass right through yours, slipping away.

When you flick your head up, he’s gone, and you stand alone in your kitchen with your arm stretched out to no one.

Akaashi watches you stare straight through him and walk away with a thousand thoughts on your mind. For the first time since he died, Akaashi Keiji feels the urge and excitement of anticipation for the future.

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji: televised #x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader

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janekfan · 3 years

Text

Left Found

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248915

Hunger.

Honed and piercing.

So corrosive and corrupt and consuming it was a wonder it even fit inside him anymore. Or maybe it was because he didn’t want it inside him anymore. Wanted to sweat it out like a fever, burn it out like mold and rot, tear it out of himself with his bitten-short fingernails until he couldn’t hear its constant demands.

It wanted to burst from his throat and it was everything on a good day to keep it inside, away from the others, swallowed down, down, down like acid where it couldn’t bother anybody.

It was hard to know just how much something could hurt until you tried to hide it from the people who once knew you best.

Tim was fixing his lunch in the breakroom. Jon Knew that.

Unbidden, the memories came, unstoppable and swift. The ache grew stronger with each one.

Soft, warm pats on the back, a mutual embrace after completing a difficult deadline. Tim was, used to be, casual touch, easy and affectionate to a little brother replacing the one he’d lost fitting into the space left behind like it was Jon’s place to fit. Comfort and care and Tim could make this stop the ache the hurt the pounding buried in his scarred skin down to the bone.

Tim could be an answer. A balm for the flickering, dying candle flame Jon still cultivated, protected from the rush of an entire ocean filling up his ears as he sank, awful deep, to a place where even sunlight didn’t dare reach its trembling fingers.

Tim doesn’t want to see you.

It was true, but Jon was desperate, needy, on the brink of screaming or tears or both and he needed someone to please help him because surely he was falling apart at his strained and stretched seams, all his dirty, ugly stuffing on display for the Archives to See.

“T’Tim.” Underwater and kilometers away his voice caused Tim to jump, spoon clattering into the sink as he cursed and turned and glared.

“You look shite, Boss.” Jon thought of all the iterations of himself that had come before, that should have prepared him for this moment. He knew more than anything, anyone, how to want without letting anyone know. Knew how to be alone and make it seem as though it had always been his choice to be so. “Seriously, what do you want? If this is more of your paranoid, supernatural rubbish, Jon.” Angry, Tim stalked forward, Jon stepped unsteadily back. Surprised (scared) and still needing.

“I, I, uh, what are you doing?” And instead of easy camaraderie, static rose in his throat, clashed against his teeth and forced its way between pursed lips at the same time red rage rose in Tim’s face as he strained against the compulsion and failed, words so fraught that even if Jon had been paying attention he wouldn’t have understood. Tim’s arms came up to frame Jon’s face as his palms collided heavily with the wall he crowded him against and he couldn’t hide his flinch.

“What. The fuck!?”

“I, I, I--”

“I, I,” he mocked, “Not enough to spy? You need to force it out of me? The fuck!” And Jon flinched again, cowering in the shadow of Tim’s bulk, breath too fast and pulse hammering in his head. “Christ, Jon.” And he hung his head, jaw so tight his molars were grinding together and for a moment Jon was sure he was going to be struck, bracing for it. Instead he stumbled as Tim shoved him roughly away and that was wrong. Tim didn’t do that and here Jon, stupid, stupid, stupid, had pushed him far enough. Another large hand smacked against his shoulder blade and he almost lost his footing, dizzied and sick and grateful when Tim didn’t follow him to his office. It was there he let himself go, let the tears come as he hid his stinging eyes in folded arms. He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t...it just slipped out and he was sorry.

He wouldn’t be believed.

The burn of where Tim had pushed him was distracting and disquieting, stealing the stale air from his lungs and binding the too small cage of his ribs in knotted, tangled twine.

Not for the first time, Jon longed for the relief that would accompany his giving in to the monster, gathering up all his multitudinous selves and rejoicing in the hideous nature that would be his and his alone. Leave his friends (not your friends any longer) and embrace this transformation with the finality of the damned. After all, despite inumerable attempts to right all his wrongs, they knew his living in the world brought an irreparable damage. Jon existed at too steep a cost and the debt was becoming so heavy it was crushing his bones to sand in its punishing fist.

For now, he existed in the awful, liminal space between choices, an agony so deep seated and the sheer, impossible need, pulled like taffy in too many directions. Was this the end of things? No more kind touch. No one to be careful with him when he felt already so fragile.

Why did he have to make himself so hard to love?

“Ah!” His tailbone ached as he hit the ground sending sparks of sharp pain up his spine. “I’I’m sorry!”

“Shut your mouth!” Jon raised his arm to shield his face, breath heaving in shuddering gasps. He hadn’t meant it, he hadn’t, he hadn’t. What was wrong with him? “You alright?” Basira looked shaken, eyes just this side of too wide as Daisy ran rough fingers over her cheek, examining her closely, brows furrowed.

“Yeah.” She seemed dazed. He’d done that. Not on purpose. Never on purpose. Not to the people he loved. “Yeah, I’m alright.” Daisy nodded, that same unhinged look in her hard expression.

“Bas--”

“I said. Shut. Your mouth.” And he swallowed another apology, lurching to his feet and fleeing before Daisy could hit him again. Clumsy, he rushed through narrow corridors, colliding at the corners in his attempt to put more distance between them until he finally began to flag. He’d made it into the stacks, surrounded by boxes of statements like beacons begging him to look inside. Find the real ones. Read them. Taste them.

Consume.

He deserved this.

Jon didn’t know how long he sat there curled around his knees before Martin found him, but he was stiff and hurting, head pounding and stomach rolling from the heat buried in his skin, trying to claw its way out.

“Jon?” He must’ve looked up, because he was looking straight at Martin with the sudden realization that he had him boxed in between the shelves. “Hey,” calm, soft, talking down a wild animal but there were only the two of them here. “You don’t look well.” What was he talking about?

“M’fine.” His tongue was thick in his mouth, words of treacle and like a tide, Martin drifted in and out, Jon’s head was too heavy for his own neck.

“Jon?” Suddenly, a pale hand was reaching for him and he panicked. “Jon!” Shouting and loud and angry(?).

“Go away!” Static and bitterness flooded Jon’s throat, rushed to strangle him, and he coughed, sputtering, black coating his fingers as he tried to stop another accidental compulsion. He couldn’t bear to look up and witness the betrayal he knew he’d placed there and instead leaned forward to lose the ink threatening to choke him, watching it pool like an oil slick around his fingers.

“Jon!”

I’m sorry.

“Jon?”

I’m scared.

“Leave me alone!”

“Jon!” Fading, being carried away by struggling steps. “Jon!!” He clapped sticky hands over his ears until he was alone again.

Martin is kind to you.

Because he fears you.

Even if you let him help, he’ll leave you. Hurt you. You’ve ruined everything, you always do. You’re hurting them. You keep hurting them.

He wrapped his arms so tightly around himself, until his fingers were dug into his flesh, sucking down a heaving lung full of air because he’d forgotten how to breathe with all his wanting. Cracking apart, letting things in that he kept trying desperately to keep out, out, out.

Exhaustion caught him up despite how fast he ran from it, trapped him in a current he couldn’t control. Whirling eddies and rip tides left him gasping, sore all over from failing to hold on to something, anything to steady himself. Just get to the next second. One at a time. Unable to think of the full moment.

And he looked up into a kind and familiar face creased in concern.

Martin.

“Hullo, Jon.” Soft, so soft. Kneeling beside him. “Shh, you’re alright. I’m not angry with you.” He kept quiet. The buzzing was there, the Eye was demanding he ask, tell, order.

“Martin?” Shaky and small and closing his eyes against the touch of a palm against his forehead.

“You’re burning up.” The clot of fear, ink and ash, stopped up his voice box and kept him silent, barely clinging to the shreds of whatever he had left. Jon wanted to take Martin’s soft attention and turn his focus elsewhere, at someone more deserving than he could ever be. “You need to rest. You’re not well.”

Not well.

A cool flannel swept over his face leaving bliss in its wake before moving to envelop each finger, rid it of the tacky, drying blotches. Wary, he watched Martin’s deft hands fold the cloth to hide the mess, setting it aside.

“I’m going to take you home. You shouldn’t be alone, not right now.”

“M’m…” He wasn’t safe, he couldn’t control the Beholding. Even now it was feeding him information, rooting around in Martin’s head for things that didn’t belong to it. Luckily, Jon couldn’t hold on to any of it as he was, wearied and wasted.

“You didn’t mean it. You aren’t thinking clearly, not with a fever like that.” The words washed over him, soothing and soft. Martin shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be kind to him like this when Jon would only take it and twist it into something terrible. But he was being lifted to his feet, the rest of the world following along a beat behind in his crowded vision, and Martin had to catch him when his knees buckled under him. “Alright, steady, I’ve got you.” With Martin doing the majority of the work, they waded through pools of emergency lighting between empty desks, everyone long gone home by now. He didn’t remember the cab ride, now standing cold and shivering at the bottom of the set of stairs leading up to Martin’s flat. Glancing up, overwhelmed and overwrought, the thought of climbing them drew a sob from his tight chest.

Warmth at his elbow made him balk, eyes wide and searching when Martin held up his hands in a placating gesture, moving slowly and with calm, obvious intent. He was speaking. Jon could see his lips moving, but it didn’t make any sense and when the Eye reached blindly for it an icepick lodged itself firmly behind his ear. The next time Martin went to touch him, the effort he put in to avoid it ended with him twisting up his feet together and all he could do was watch the ground rise up to meet him. If he hit the floor he didn’t remember, prying apart heavy lids to take in unfamiliar walls.

Not alone.

Before he could panic, Martin crouched beside where he was laid out on a sofa, removing his shoes and smiling gently when he caught him staring.

“It’s okay.” Calm. Quiet. “It’s okay.” Again. Infinitely softer. The backs of steady fingers brushing against his forehead and when Jon closed his eyes against his kindness, tears slipped down his cheeks. “It’s okay.” And he let himself believe it, the relief heady and stealing away the last of his resolve. “Let’s get you tucked up and warm, hm? Slow now, that’s good.” The babble was comforting, easy to drift along in the current, and he let Martin tell him what to do, accepting the water, the tablets, and drinking both down. Allowing Martin to manhandle him into soft clothes to replace his stained ones. “Lay back, try to sleep.”

Martin’s bed.

Before he himself knew he’d moved, the sleeve of Martin’s jumper was tight in his trembling grip. He could feel it, his expression twisting up, ugly and disgusting, lips pressed tightly together to keep his begging in, to trap the want. Trap it behind teeth and tongue until Martin realized what he’d done and kicked him out.

Then he could let go again. Where no one could see how badly he needed.

“It’s okay.” The soft pass through his sweat damp and tangled curls undid the rest of him. “What do you need?” A sob, a laugh, a burst of static that made both of them wince. Desperate. And his crying stopped all else. A stillness descending so thick and deep it felt like drowning, throat blocked up with ink and sorrow and impossible agony.

Arms wrapped around him. Tight, hot bands of iron and despite the strength with which he was held it became easier to breathe and he gulped down air sweeter than anything he’d known in a long time.

It was dark. Darker than it had been before and he was something far beyond tired. Wrung out and stretched thin, unspooled like fine wire. Gradually, sensation trickled in. The scent of tea from the breakroom. Wash worn wool. Gentle hands. He was moving, just slightly. Swaying.

Small sounds he couldn’t parse fell like rain, soft and warm.

Laid carefully down, like he was a precious, breakable thing. Wrapped up, legs and limbs and warm, warm, warm. Greedy, selfish, he drank it in, clinging to Martin in the velvet dark, hand to hand, skin to skin, and it still wasn’t enough. How could it be when he’d gone so long without. When he’d never known anything else.

Hunger. Always there.

Even before he’d been cursed with this awful gift.

Gnawing and persistent but quieting in the wake of the grounding beat of Martin’s heart, everywhere and all around. In his own pulse, his blood, his body. His touch was fire to his frostbite; painful and so very good.

He wanted it. Wanted so badly to be warm again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jon buried his nose in Martin’s throat, shuddering under his hands. “Rest, Jon.”

Apricot light seeped between his lashes, lifting him up and out of sleep. His cheek was pillowed on Martin’s chest, the man’s fingers still buried in his hair.

It was gentle here. The static muted and buried under the quilts, no longer lurking, waiting for its chance to take.

“Fever’s down some.” But all the same he pressed him with more medicine before excusing himself to put the kettle on. Jon curled up in the warmth he left behind, clear headed and wondering, waking when Martin came back with tea and toast. “You should eat a little something.” Wordlessly, Jon opened his mouth. Closed it, worried that all he had left inside was the ability to compel, to steal. Martin busied himself with the meticulous application of jam on his toast and Jon appreciated the space. The patience he didn’t really deserve.

“Th’thank you. Martin.”

“How long have you been ill?” Jon shrugged one shoulder, forgoing his own toast and sipping on the tea instead.

“Thought.” What had he thought? He only remembered wanting. “I. I don’t know. It’s all…” he tried to gesture in a way that explained how twisted things had been with the fever and the hunger and the fog. It was lacking. “I’m sorry for--I, I didn’t m’mean to. I.”

Couldn’t control it.

Jon thought he could taste the ink threatening to make a reappearance and took another swallow. He felt somewhat better, still sick. Still worried.

“I’m not angry with you.” Jon stared into his tea. “Hey, look at me.” Martin lifted his chin with a touch. “I see you. I see you trying.” Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over only for Martin to brush them away. Jon set the cup aside and let himself fall into the broad chest, melt beneath the heavy hand cradling his head.

Safe.

Sated.

#TMA #the magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #mental health issues #touch starved #tears #crying #accidental compulsion #fever #sickfic

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 3 years

Text

One Photo → Mark Lee [8]

↳ Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳ AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳ Warning: angst if you squint, I guess

↳ Word count: 2,294

↳ Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | You Are Here! | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

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

WEDNESDAY - 8 TWO YEARS LATER

The heart of Toronto would never compare to the magnificence of Times Square in New York, but the mass amount of billboards by the Eaton Center always managed to send you into awe during your nightly trek home from work.

You looked up toward the billboards with a sigh as you waited for your streetcar, barely managing to squeeze out a smile as you saw Mark’s visage splayed along one of the electronic spaces. The night sky was too polluted with the city’s light to display any real stars, but Mark’s face was more than enough for you. For the past week, you had seen NCT127’s faces sprawled across that billboard, part of promotions for their latest global comeback. It was a brief respite as you waited for your streetcar home every night, to finally know that the day was over and that you could relax.

It had been such a long time since you’ve seen Mark in person. Even though you texted him every day when the two of you were awake at the same time and video chatted whenever he had five minutes to himself, it always felt depressing to be without him. To not kiss or touch or hug at all was torture.

Everyone knew that it was deadly for soulmates to be apart for so long, that depression would set in and even worse physical illnesses were a real risk. It was hard to be so far away and over the past year you had been let go from multiple jobs because you were constantly sick, and therein lies the problem. You simply couldn’t afford the solution to your problem. So, depression and illness it was. It took everything you had to keep your head above water, to keep your dream alive and know that one day your heart wouldn’t ache as much as it does at the present moment.

After a 20 minute ride on the streetcar, you entered your building and took the stairs up to your little hole-in-the-wall apartment, the bare minimum that you could afford after Rhiannon paid her last half of the old place’s rent. A single bed, bath and a tiny kitchen that housed a little chair and round table. Thankfully, there was enough counter space that you could place a tiny TV to watch Netflix on while you ate. You were lucky that the house had a large living room, which doubled as your studio.

The coffee table was one of the only things left from your old apartment, along with the tote of Marvel films you kept hidden below it. Atop the table now rested all of your cameras, a drawing tablet and cards that you got in the mail from Mark from time-to-time, instead of notes, binders and textbooks. Sitting against the wall across from the table was a small bookshelf and an easel with a large frame sitting on it, housing the last portrait you finished the night before, ready to be shipped to the buyer.

After… somewhat enjoying a quick pot of white cheddar mac & cheese and watching a rerun of Supernatural on your little TV, you head into your room and sit at the desk next to your bed. After starting your computer, you opened up discord and sat back in your wheely chair, waiting for Rhiannon’s status to change to green. Wednesday was the day that she had to be up early for her job, so that meant time for a 10-minute call before you went to bed and she went to work.

Next to your computer was a copy of the photo you took two years ago, of your soulmate and all his friends beneath the shedding cherry trees in High Park. You smiled at it, the memory was fond but now faint in your mind. You reached forward to pick it up, but you stopped yourself. You knew that if you inspected the photo more, you’d only miss Mark and all your friends more.

There were times where your apartment became so quiet that it reminded you how alone you really were. You had lived with Rhiannon most of your life, and that meant there was at least some noise going on at all times. Whether she had her headset unplugged when she was listening to music or watching youtube videos, she was clattering about when helping you wash and dry the dishes, or if she was walking around and tripped on nothing. She was always talking, laughing, or doing something that always let you know that she was there. Now, you had nothing.

The silence is broken and you’re startled by the calling sound from discord, Rhiannon’s icon popping up on the top of your screen. You place your hand on your mouse and click the join call button, adjusting the webcam perched on the top of your desktop monitor.

"Hey," Rhiannon was the first to speak, yawning and reaching back to pull her hair into a perfect, tight ponytail.

"Hey," you respond, watching her closely and leaning your chin on your right palm. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that, Jesus, you look like the Hulk if he got the swine flu," she retorts, and even through the grainy quality you can tell she has sympathy written all over her face. "I'm doing great, we've got two cleanings today and a wisdom teeth removal, so that'll be fun."

You scoff and attempt to smile, "I'm fiiiiine, other than the fact that I'm here and you're there, 13 hours in the future and at least one ocean in between us and an entire continent and a half. I'd say that constitutes abandonment."

"I got the getting while it was good and you know that," she stuck her tongue out at you. "You need to keep saving so that you can fly your ass out here." She squinted at the screen. "You really need to drink like… an entire bottle of nyquil, dude."

"If only it were that easy," you groan. "I don't even have a photographer's position yet. All I get is sitting at a desk and responding to emails… even with my head start, I can't find a good job and I barely make enough to keep living in Toronto." You stick out your tongue back at her for the nyquil comment. "As if I haven't been hiding a bottle of dayquil in my desk for the past week."

Rhiannon stopped what she was doing and leaned toward her camera. "You know why you can't get the jobs you want," her voice is soft, empathetic. "Mark is having trouble, too. He's been doing a lot of half days, so I don't know how they plan to do their tour with him being constantly sick."

You looked away. "I can't afford to take any more time off… I don't want to lose this job. If I do, I'm not sure that I'll be able to make my rent."

"You're going to need to take time eventually,” Rhiannon stated firmly. "If you don't get at least some of your strength back you're going to end up in the hospital like I did. Remember?"

You glanced back at your screen, watching Donghyuck wander around in the backdrop. You were beyond jealous that they got to live together.

"Maybe. I just miss you. More than I miss having a clear passageway in my nose."

Rhiannon smiled sadly at you. "I miss you too, everyone does. You'll be here soon, I promise. I gotta go, sleep well and drink plenty of water, okay?"

"Okay."

Rhiannon waved at you before her screen went dark, ending the call. The call was shorter than usual, so you presumed that she had woken up late. You zoned out a little, acutely aware that the apartment had gone silent again. You didn't want to cry, to give up after surviving for so long. You had made it this far without letting everything get to you.

You knew that your deteriorating health was because of your separation from Mark and companies saw that as a liability, even though laws had come into place last year to protect separated soulmates from workplace discrimination. You felt a tiny ping of hope when Rhiannon said you would be able to move soon, but you knew she was lying to make you feel better.

Feeling lethargic, you stand and make your way to the dresser in the corner of your room, stripping and throwing your clothes about the room. You open up a drawer and pull out a pair of sweatpants and the softest t-shirt you could find and slipped them on, wandering to your bed and slowly climbing in. You slipped off your glasses, placing them on your desk and reached forward to turn off your lamp.

You hugged your polar bear and tried to get comfortable, hoping to fall asleep quickly. You supposed you could call into work when you woke up; at least your manager was nice enough to understand when you needed a day off. You rolled over, tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn't come. Not while your phone was constantly buzzing.

"What the hell," you mumble to yourself, untangling yourself from the knot of blankets you had tied yourself in to reach for your phone. Your lock screen lit up with a photo of Mark, one you had taken two years ago of him standing in Union Station.

[Rhiannon (5)]

She sure knew how to type quickly.

Rhiannon: I'm on my way to work, I'll let you know when I'm there

Rhiannon: sorry our call was so short, I was running a little late

Rhiannon: I talked to Mark last night, did he say anything?

Rhiannon: are you asleep already? It's been like 5 minutes

Rhiannon: ok you're basically just ignoring me at this point

You: calm down bro I was getting in my pyjamas

Rhiannon: I forgot how slow you get when you're sick, I could die of boredom waiting for you to respond

You: hardy har

Rhiannon: so have you talked to mark today?

You: around lunchtime he woke up from a nightmare but I assume hes busy right now

Rhiannon: Things have been pretty bad around now, I think you might have guessed that

You: Yeah, things aren’t really that great here either, but I’m more worried about Mark… have they given him time off?

Rhiannon: Not much besides half days. He’s really been missing you. Maybe you should message him and see if he’s not busy

You: Yeah, maybe. I feel really guilty

Rhiannon: I know. I still could help you buy your plane ticket, you know. You: You know I can’t do that, I can’t take more from you than I have already. I owe you too much.

No response.

You: Rhiannon I’m sorry

You: Come on, you can’t have scrubbed in that fast!

You sighed, staring at your screen and still seeing no response from your best friend. You took a deep breath in and immediately regretted it when you began coughing up a lung, but at least you weren't upchucking your dinner. Instead, you decided to send a text to Mark.

You: mark, you there?

You close your mind for a moment, thinking that maybe going to bed even later than usual would just make you more sick in the end, but you really needed to know what was going on.

Mark: yeah I'm here babe, what's wrong, can't sleep?

You: no not really… do you have time to talk for a bit?

Mark: yeah, my legs gave out during our first practice so I'm taking a break

You: I'm sorry

Mark: it's not your fault (Y/N)

You: it kind of is, we're both dying because I can't afford to move

Mark: (Y/N), we're not dying, and it's okay, you'll be able to move soon

You: face it you know that we are… I haven't felt this horrible in a long time and I've thrown up three times today

Mark didn't respond right away.

Mark: why are you putting yourself down so much

You: I just… have a lot of regrets right now

Mark: what do you mean

You licked your lips and rolled over in bed, wondering if you should tell him.

Mark: are you okay?

You: no, I feel like this would make you hate me

Mark: I could never hate you and you know that. Tell me what's been bothering you.

You: For the past while… Rhiannon’s been offering me money. It’s honestly not much because everyone’s struggling nowadays, but it would be enough for me to fly to Korea, and I’ve felt so guilty about it that I kept saying no and she stopped offering

Mark: You mean that you could have been here faster? You: and now I feel that saying no was a really bad idea… and I.. I can’t afford anything, barely even food and now I hear that you’re even more sick than I am and I feel terrible

You: I don’t know what to do

Mark: It’s okay, (Y/N), really. I know how hard it is to take money from someone else, I’m not mad at you

You: Really?

Mark: I’m just disappointed that I have to keep waiting. You’ll be able to move soon, I promise, I promise, I promise

You: Are you going to be okay

Mark: As long as you are. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there for you the second you land. Okay?

You: Okay. I… I should probably get some sleep now. Mark: Rest well, I love you

You: I love you too

You sighed, placing your phone on your desk and turning over in your bed. It was time.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct127 #nct #nctu #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

Could you do an Indruck (or OT4 because you got me into the whole pairing :) ) NSFW ghost prompt? Go nuts, I just love your writing and I trust your creative vision.

Here you go! I went with the OT4. And I’m so glad you like that pairing!

The kitchen box is half-unpacked when there’s a knock on the door. Duck figures it’s the take-out he ordered, so he’s surprised to see a tall guy in nice jeans and short-sleeved dress shirt decorated with Jackalopes. Unless the Thai place uses male supermodels as delivery boys, this isn’t his Pad Thai.

“Uh, hey, what can I do for you?”

“I’m your downstairs neighbor, so I wanted to come up and introduce myself. I hope I’m not interrupting dinner.”

“Nope, still waitin on it. Nice to meet you, name’s Duck.” He holds out his hand and Mr. Gorgeous shakes it.

“Joseph. Oh, um, here” he produces a small greeting card with a sea monster on it, “welcome to the neighborhood.” His pocket rings, and so he excuses himself, hurrying down the stairs with his phone to his ear. The card contains a gift certificate to the coffee shop on the corner.

They don’t cross paths again right away. It’s more that Duck will move Joe’s packages into the main hall rather than leave them on a rainy porch, and Joe delivers Pinecone the cat back to him after she slips out the door and down the stairs while Duck wrestles his keys.

As it warms up, they use the pool around the same time each day (which is how Duck learns Joe’s had top surgery, same as him), and start talking more in the lobby when they see each other. He learns Joseph works for the FBI in the UP, the agreement being he can make X-files jokes as long as Joe gets to make Smokey the Bear references in return. The way Joseph laughs, water streaming down his honest-to-god defined abs as he pulls himself onto the edge of the pool, makes Duck glad he’s never seen a boyfriend coming or going from the other mans apartment.

Tonight, he’s done helping Joe get all his groceries up the stairs in one go, and decides to go for it.

“Hey, uh, Joe? You doin’ anythin tomorrow night?”

“No.” He studies Duck’s body language and gives an encouraging smile.

“In that case; wanna get dinner?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I think this building is haunted.”

Duck, head still resting on Joe’s chest after jacking him off as thanks for an excellent blowjob, laughs, “That’s some interestin pillow talk you got there.”

“Are you that surprised?”

“No, you fuckin nerd.” He nips his collarbone, shifting so they’re each on their sides, facing one another, “for real though, why do you think we got ghosts runnin’ around?”

“At first I thought I was imagining it, or that I felt like I was being watched because the cases studies I was reading put the suggestion in my head. Then things started moving around the apartment, and now and then I swear I hear people whispering. I tracked the sound one day and it was coming from the wall that looks out onto the street. No one was down there, and if it were the result of an echo or strange acoustics, I’d notice it more.”

“Huh.” Duck pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“Still, I’m not ready to say for certain that it’s haunted. That kind of thing requires concrete evidence that I just don’t have. Sorry, shouldn’t talk shop when I have a, um, guest.” He wiggles back into Duck’s space, kissing him gently, and Duck forgets what they were talking about.

---------------------------------------------

He knows Ouija Boards are a dodgy investigation tool at the best of times, but today he came home to find all his laundry folded when he had, much to his chagrin, had to leave it in the bag in a rush to get to work.

No one has a key to his place. Which means whoever did that had another way in.

He clears his throat, “If there is a ghost or other supernatural entity in the apartment with me, I wanted to say thank you for putting my clothes away.”

Nothing but his own creeping humiliation, then a slight chill across his face. The planchette moves

U.R. W.E.L.C.O.M.E

“HAH!” He whoops, “I was right! My apartment is haunted. Okay, um, spirit, do you have a name?”

B.A.R.C.L.A.Y

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Barclay. You’ve been spending a lot of time around me.”

Y.E.A.H S.O.R.R.Y

“You don’t need to apologize, I don’t mind it. You’re not malevolent, and if this was your apartment when you died, I can’t very well get mad at you for hanging around. Are you able to become visible?”

YES

“Is there, um, a reason you’ve never materialized around me?”

D.I.D.N.T W.A.N.T T.O S.C.A.R.E Y.O.U

“You won’t, I’m a professional. And I’m curious about the person I’m sharing my home with.”

The planchette trembles, unsure of it’s direction at first.

S.H.Y

That explanation never occurred to him.

“That’s alright. If you ever change your mind, know you don’t have to hide on my behalf.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Barclay, even I can tell that was an invitation to interact with him. What more are you waiting for?” Indrid cocks his head.

“Maybe he’s just trying to appease me because he’s scared of ghosts?”

“Those ‘paranormal romances’ on his shelf suggest otherwise.” Indrid touches Barclay’s cheek. They’re in the wall, their shared nature meaning they can see, hear, and touch each other without trying, “dearest, you’re clearly fond of him, and he’s eager to meet you.”

Barclay’s beard scratches his palm, “Yeah, I know. I’m just...I like to take things slow and, uh, I guess this is no exception.”

Indrid chuckles, dryly adds “Yes, I recall how long after propositioning you it took for you to practically bang down my door.”

“Okay, hot little art punk who literally asked me if I wanted to see what his tongue piercing felt like on my dick is the exception.” He kisses Indrid’s cheek before drifting away.

Indrid floats up into his former apartment, now occupied by Duck Newton. He spends most of his days on the couch while Duck is off at work, watching T.V or reading or, increasingly, playing with Pinecone, the only being he’s materialized for in some time. He’s been content to never alert Duck to his existence, but yesterday he overheard him remaining skeptical at the idea of the building being haunted, much to Joseph’s disgruntlement. Indrid’s as well; Barclay isn’t the only one who finds Joseph attractive and charming.

So he thinks Duck deserves some low-stakes haunting of his own.

---------------------------------------

Duck’s having a hell of a week. The hinges on his cabinets must be going, because they keep falling open, his router keeps getting unplugged (probably by Pinecone), and no matter how he insulates, there’s a chill in the living room.

Worst off all, when he pulled the fridge away from the wall to see if it was to blame for the cold spot, it revealed a hole into the wall that is just big enough for Pinecone to get into. Which she did, last night, and will not come out no matter what he tries.

When he walks into the living room after work, his brain stalls out. The good news is, Pinecone is no longer in the wall.

The bad news is she’s floating at a fixed point four feet about the floor.

His cat notices him, mrrps, and lands on the floor. All Joe’s talk of ghosts suddenly feels very real and points at one conclusion.

“Holy shit” he picks up the black and brown ball of fluff, “my cat’s fuckin’ possessed.”

“Not quite” the voice in his ear is quiet, lilting.

“JESUSFUCK.” He spins to face an invisible interloper, Pinecone firmly in his arms.

A smile, and only a smile, appears a fear inches above his eyeline, “Do you still doubt the building is haunted?”

“Wh--motherfucker, you’re Joe’s ghost and you decided to talk to me? To what, make a point?”

“Yes and no. Yes in that I wanted you to stop doubting my existence. No in that Barclay is the former resident of Josephs’ dwelling. I am a former resident of this one.”

The implications of there being a ghost dedicated to his apartment hit him like a train, “Have you just been hangin around me since I moved in, watchin my every move?”

The smile wavers, “Nono, nothing so alarming. I usually come here when you’re at work, or spend time with Barclay in the spaces between walls and worlds. That’s, ah, not to say I haven’t been in the armchair while you were watching T.V on the couch, but in my defense you have very interesting taste in documentaries.” The ghost notices Duck’s alarm, and the smile fades from view, “I apologize. It was rude of me to be in your space without permission. Space is a much more malleable thing when you’re a ghost, but that is no excuse.”

“I mean, yeah, it’s fuckin creepy.”

Pinecone jumps from his grasp, winds herself in a circle around what must be ghostly legs.

“But uh, my cat likes you. And she can be skittish. I, uh, worry about her gettin lonely on days when I work late. So you can hang around when I’m out. But other’n that we gotta play by vampire rules; you don’t come into my space unless invited. Deal?”

The smile flickers back into view, “Deal.”

---------------------------------------------------------

Joseph, all too aware of his own perfectionist nature, tries to avoid jealousy. It only ever serves to poison him against others and his own fragile inner being.

But lord almighty is he jealous that Duck got a verbal, physical visit from his specter, Indrid, while Barclay doesn’t so much as whisper in Joseph’s vicinity. It had been hard to be envious in the moment, because he was too excited by the news, to the point that he climbed into Ducks lap and started kissing him because all his adrenaline needed an outlet.

Then Duck had frozen, asking if he thought the ghosts would watch them hook-up. Joseph pointed out that Indrid had promised to only visit when invited and Barclay was polite, so odds were good they were truly alone. He kept the fact that Duck’s suggestion made him instantly hard to himself.

(Duck picked up on it anyway, if the jokes about Ghost and the supremely satisfying make-out session were anything to go by).

He’s making fried rice for dinner, is mid-way through chopping green onions when his phone buzzes. A glance over his shoulder reveals it’s not a work call or an emergency. Suddenly, something cold and strong grips his right hand and there is, without a doubt, a human frame pressed to his back. He can’t move his hand, follows the line of his knife and sees the next chop would have caught his finger.

“Barclay?”

“Yeah. Sorry I, uh, just didn’t want you cutting a finger off.” The hold on him disappears as that baritone drips down his spine.

Joseph turns just as Barclay comes into view; he’s taller than Joseph, a rare thing given he’s six-foot, with shaggy brown hair and a short, coppery beard. Full lips and brown eyes round out the face that is straight from Joseph’s fantasies.

“Wow. Um, I mean, thank you for saving me a trip to the emergency room.”

“No problem.”

Drawing on years of training, he tries to keep the other man talking, “Were you just passing through?”

“Kinda. This is gonna sound weird but, uh, I loved cooking when I was alive. Sometimes I like to be close by when you’re cooking so I can get some of the sensations again.”

Joseph steps to the side, gesturing to the cutting board, “Do you...want to help me make dinner? If you can interact with my body, you should be able to prepare veggies no problem.”

Barclay hesitantly steps to the counter, shakes his head when Joseph offers the knife, “I have to dematerialize first. Being visible and being solid take so much energy that I can only do one or the other.”

“Fascinating. Just, um, I hope I get to see your face again.”

Barclay disappears, and a half-second later an invisible hand squeezes his arm, “Think I can manage that.”

Barclay joins him for dinner regularly after that. Duck recovers fairly quickly to Joseph’s spectral assistant, especially when Barclay makes him french onion soup. Joseph suspects Duck is also getting used to ghosts in general, since more than once he’s knocked on the door and walked in to find the ranger conversing with Indrid (though Indrid insists on remaining dematerialized).

Tonight it’s just him and Barclay, and Joseph is busy sticking his foot in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, that’s a rude question-”

Barclay chuckles, “Not really, it’s kinda the first thing everyone wants to know about ghosts, right? Why we’re here? Short answer is, uh” he sighs, “I had a heart condition but not the time or money to get it checked out. Fucking thing failed me one Sunday morning at that was it. Poor Indrid found me. We had a casual thing going and he had a key to my place. Came to check on me when he heard me hit the ground.”

“Oh Barclay, that sounds awful for you both.”

“Yeah, death isn’t my fave.” Barclay lays down, disappearing so his head can rest properly in Joseph’s lap. The agent feels around until he finds soft hair, petting it as Barclay continues his story.

“At first I thought my unfinished business might have to do with Indrid. But when he died pretty soon after, I kinda figured it was more that when I died, the direction I went was the ‘become a ghost’ one and not, like, the ‘rest in peace’ one.”

“Do you wish you could move on? Because I have access to a lot of classified occult information.”

The head under his hand turns, the direction of the motion suggesting Barclay is looking up at him, “Gotta be honest, lately being a ghost has gotten way more interesting.”

------------------------------------------------

It takes two drawers before Duck finds where he put the AAA batteries. The package is already open, and when he gets to the living room his Carbon Monoxide detector is floating, back removed as fresh batteries click into place.

“Damn, ‘Drid, the thing just started beepin about it’s low battery.”

“Such things cannot be delayed. Trust me.”

“....Oh fuck, is that what got you?”

The detector slips back onto it’s wall mount, “Yes. I, I was always so careful, trying to prepare for every possible disaster. When Barclay died I, ah, I found it harder to do daily tasks. One of those was replacing the batteries in this” a plastic tap, “the low-power beep kept bothering me, so I detached it, planning to fix it in the morning. Then the next morning, and the next, and so on. Well, I put it off one too many times. A mundane, pointless death if there ever was one.”

Duck sets the battery package on the table, opening his arms. Cold fingers cling to the back of his shirt as Indrid hugs him. Duck does his best to soothe the ghost, rocking them subtly in a way that works wonders on his living friends.

“Thank you” spectral eyelashes flutter against his neck as Indrid burrows against him. They say nothing else, staying in the embrace until Pinecone pads over and demands dinner.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck just means to drop off the books he borrowed from Joe, finds the door unlocked and figures the other man is home, probably cooking or yelling at a bigfoot hunting show. When he doesn’t see him in the living room, he pokes his head down the hall.

It takes a moment for his brain to process what he’s seeing. By the time it does, he’s already backing out the door.

Okay, he just walked in on his sorta-boyfriend getting railed by a ghost, face buried against the bed, moaning while a cock he couldn’t see spread his ass open over and over again. That’s fine, that’s completely fine and not hot at all, he’s just taking his pants off in his living room for unrelated reasons.

“Ah, Duck?”

“Fuck!” He looks around, trying to work out where Indrid is and how much he can see.

The couch cushions shift, “I apologize, I thought you were out running errands.”

“S’okay” He pulls his hand out of his boxers, “I, uh, I was just, uh, tryin to, uh…”

The ghost waits patiently for him to come to the truth.

Duck sighs, slumps down on what he’s pretty sure is a free spot, “Walked in on Joe and Barclay.”

“I see. Does it bother you?”

“No. I, uh, kinda got the sense they were into each other, and we ain’t exclusive.”

The smile appears next to him, invisible fingers tracing up his arm “Does it do something else to you?”

“Indrid, please I already got the weirdest fuckin boner right now.”

“And I am offering to help. I know I often joke about sharing Barclay’s taste in men but…” a light, chilly kiss on his cheek, “I share Joseph’s as well. I would very much like the chance to show you what I mean.” The fingers and lips teasing his skin cease their touches; space to refuse that Duck appreciates.

“You know what? Fuck it” Duck works his pants the rest of the way off, throws his boxers after them, “get on your knees, sugar, and show me what you mean.”

“Ooh, I get a pet name!” Indrid claps, excited, rests his hands on Duck’s knees after he spreads them. Duck tracks his position by his smile, is unprepared for how strange it feels when it dives between his thighs. He’s used to Joe, all hot breath and enthusiastic precision. This is like the time an ex tried using an ice cube but way, way better, the chill heightening the sensations rather than numbing them.

It’s also teasing, and he grunts, tipping his hips up, “‘Drid, please.”

“Patience, sweetheart, I haven’t done anything like this in years, I intend to take my time.” A playful tongue drags up his dick.

“Sugar, I’ll let you do this every day for a week, figure out how to give a ghost a fuckin hand job, anythin, but if I don’t cum soon I’m gonna combust. So get that cute little mouth where it belongs and suck my dick.”

The smile sharpens, “Make me.”

He threads his fingers into Indrid’s hair, shoving him forward. The ghost moans, tongue working across his folds in rapid swipes. Curious, he tugs on the soft strands and a messy purr vibrates up his dick.

“Someone like it rough?”

He feels the responding nod. Tightens his grip, “Then fuckin suck it like I told you too, sugar.”

Cold lips envelope his dick, Indrid moaning as he sucks. One hand rubs what his mouth can’t attend to, but the other leaves Duck’s knee right before Indrid’s whimpers grow shorter.

“That’s it, get off while I fuck your face, fuck, Joe’s really onto somethin with this paranormal shit, you’re so good sugar, fuckme that’s good. C’mon” he jerks his hips, orgasm building mercifully fast, “make me cum, like that, right fuckin there ohfuck.” He cums, feet scuffing on the rug. Indrid’s moan turns to a gasp as he pulls away, cum making a damp spot on the ground.

Duck pets his hair, “Sure showed me.”

Indrid snickers, turns to press his face to kiss his palm.

“‘Drid? You, uh, you don’t have to, but could I see you? All of you?”

His hands cradle air as a man forms before him; lanky and bony, hair dyed silver with black roots showing, pierced ears and lip, tattoos coating the arms that stick out from a white tank-top. He bites his lip, awaiting judgement as Duck sinks off the couch to sit with him.

“Not gonna lie, sugar, mighty peeved you kept usin my pens and didn’t even let me see this face everyday as payment.”

Indrid blinks, then laughs, loud and relieved, “I’m glad you approve; I am not everyone’s type.”

“Sure as hell are mine.” Duck puts his hand through his knee, frowns, “wish I could hold you and see you at the same time. Be that as it may, know you’re always runnin cold. You, uh, wanna join me for a little afternoon nap?”

“Of course” he fades away, and takes Ducks’ hand.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck’s never seen Joe this excited which, given that they went to a “Cryptids in Film” exhibit last weekend, is saying something.

“Ready?” His boyfriend tightens the strap-on harness, sporting Duck’s favorite of his dicks.

“You know it, darlin.”

Joe climbs onto the bed, makes a suave roll onto his back and pats his thighs, “Then come here. I want to see as much of you as possible while I fuck you.”

“You’re the boss, handsome.” He sinks down with a groan, slowly rocking his hips to get warmed up.

Joe gropes his ass, growling, “Lord, look at this. Your ass is incredible, Duck, just like the rest of you.”

He dips down to kiss him in reply, messing up that dark hair and leaving a hickey on his collarbone. A chill runs up his spine and he shudders; two days ago, after the two ghosts and two humans hashed out who was dating who and what that meant, Joe admitted to a fantasy in which he and Duck were rudely interrupted by two horny paranormal entities.

Duck kisses the corner of his mouth, grinds down with a whine, “c’mon Joe, know you can go harder than that.”

“The angle isn’t to my advantage.”

“Well then” purrs a voice from their right, “let’s remedy that.”

Duck’s pulled sideways, the momentum enough to reverse their positions and pop the toy loose.

“Now, pet, you are going to start fucking him again, and I’m going to fuck you to insure the pace is the perfect one for my dear Duck.”

The strap-on slides back in, Duck arching when it does. Joe’s hips snap forward, propelled by something other than the strength of his muscles.

“AHlord, Indrid, yes. Is, is that good?” His blue eyes focus on Duck, who pulls him down into a kiss, panting as Indrid uses Joe to fuck him hard and fast. Then Joe’s head whips up and sideways, an invisible cock forcing it’s way into his mouth to muffle his moans.

“Fuck, that’s it babe, get me hard so I can fuck you when Indrid’s had his fill.”

“That may take some time. Never fear, I have other plans for my pet.”

Joe squeaks, and Duck watches the muscles of his ass flex in new ways as black silicone appears and retreats from view over and over. From under him, Duck has a singularly good view of his lips stretching to accommodate Barclay, who’s busy demanding he look him in the eye when he takes his cock. He runs a loving hand up Joe’s chest, strokes the cheek not bulging with the head of a thick cock.

“Fuck that’s hot.” His body agrees, but in spite of his boyfriends’ joint efforts and the obscene view making him wetter by the second, his orgasm eludes him.

“J-joe, ‘Drid, please I, I’m real fuckin close but I need more pressure or, fuck, or friction or somethingfuck, hell fuckin yeah that’s it.” He pumps his hips, Barclay having freed Joe to bury his face in Ducks’ neck and put strip of the harness holding the toy where Duck can rub off on it.

“That’s it, like that Joe, ‘Drid, fuckfuckfuckfuck” He gasps, eyes rolling back in his head as the orgasm shoots through him. It’s perfect, made more so by the knowledge that Indrid will let him bask in the aftershocks.

Joe, however, is in for something very different. Duck is still getting his vision back when the harness takes an unceremonious flight off the bed. As he sits up, the plug takes the same journey, and he knows Joe will insist on cleaning it even more thoroughly than usual now that it’s been on the rug.

His boyfriend is on his knees, lowering with incremental bursts of effort and jerks of his hips. When he stops with a moan, it looks as though his ass is hovering in mid-air. Phantom indentations press into his hips.

“Very good pet” Indrid’s voice is turning breathy, “no, lean back so Barclay can fuck you raw while I make short work of this tight” Joe jolts up as Indrid bucks his hips, “little” another jolt, “ass” a final jolt before Joe tips backwards, opening his legs.

Duck watches, mesmerized, as Joe is spread open, feet lifting off the blanket as more indents appear beneath his knees. The agent, usually so articulate, does nothing but moan at the invisible intrusion.

“Fuckin-A, I’ll never get tired of this babe, you’re fucking dripping for me and it’s so fucking hot, how much of a fucking needy, dirty guy you are.”

Joe reaches one hand forward, trying to run his fingers up Barclay’s chest. The other extends towards Duck, and the ranger crawls so he can take it, kissing it as the indents of Indrid’s arms wrap around Joe’s lower belly.

“I’d hold tight, dearest.”

“Why-”

Duck’s answer comes in the form of a yelp from Joe. To anyone else, it would look like the agent is trying and failing to wrestle the air. His back arches, making every sinful line of his body tense, while his hands claw at the bed and Duck’s arm and his legs bounce uselessly in the air.

Duck peers around, careful not to bonk his head into Barclay. From here Joe is on full display, both holes stretching and twitching to take what they’re given. He wishes it was easier for him to get hard again; all he can think about is sitting on Joe’s face while the others fuck him like this, catch this sobbing moans in his skin while he’s reduced to nothing but a plaything for the paranormal.

“Damn, darlin, you’re takin it like a champ. Maybe next time I’ll film it for ya, so you can see how fuckin hot you look getting fucked to pieces on some ghost dick.”

A louder sob of pleasure, and as he goes to soothe him with kisses Barclay grunts, “Don’t you fucking pull away, don’t care if you just came you’re fucking taking it all.”

“Do hurry up with him, Barclay. Ah, perfect, thank you.” With that, the forces bouncing Joe in the air come only from beneath him, Indrid pumping mercilessly into his ass and punching little “ah, aah, ahnns” out of him. He’s so blissed out that Duck can’t help himself, steadies his face in his hands so he can kiss him while Indrid cums with a high cry.

There’s an “oof” as Indrid rolls Joe’s head into Duck’s lap. A hand turns Duck by his chin so he can get a kiss before Indrid becomes visible. Barclay appears at Joe’s feet, does his best to lay parallel to him and then disappears.

“You always did like to spoon immediately after.” Indrid says fondly, drifting to sit beside Duck.

“Mhmmm” comes the rumbly reply.

“You okay, darlin?” Duck brushes the hair from Joe’s face as blue eyes flutter open.

“Never better. Oh!” He sits up abruptly, Duck is more used to his boyfriend’s post-orgasm bursts of inspiration than the other two and thus doesn’t jump in surprise, “I found a potentially useful book at work the other day…”

---------------------------------------------

“So, uh, how long do we have?” Barclay brushes lint from his shirt, stepping outside the chalk pattern on the floor somewhat hesitantly.

“As long as the candle burns. Which is why I bought one that can stay lit for at least ten hours.” He offers his hand and his fully visible, touchable boyfriend takes it. Indrid, having more trust in occult processes, practically leapt over the chalk a moment ago to kiss him and Duck. Joseph draws Barclay into his arms, “which is all to say: we have plenty of time for date night.”

#OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #reader requests #monster march #ghost AU #Indruck #sternclay #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #duck newton/agent stern #indrid cold/agent stern

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years

Text

Makayla Part Three

Sam Winchester x Reader

Words: 2149

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Tensions are high in the bunker as you make a plan of attack against the vampires. Sam tries to make up for lost time. Everyone bonds with the newest Winchester.

Notes: Okay, writing Sam trying to figure out how to be a dad is sooooo fun. Also, Uncle Dean is possibly my favorite thing ever. I hope you guys enjoy part three to this series! I’m having a blast!

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

“Mom!” You woke up to the sound of your daughter screaming. “Mommy!” Makayla was kicking at the blankets, her little fists swinging at some invisible monster. Another nightmare. You grabbed her and pulled her into your arms.

“It’s okay, baby. Wake up. I’ve got you.” You rocked her back and forth until her eyes opened, fat tears spilling onto her cheeks. “You’re alright, Kayla.”

“It was the monsters again. The shadow man.”

“He isn’t here, baby.” You ran your fingers through her hair. “He can’t hurt you.” Your door flew open and Dean and Sam rushed in, Mary peaked out behind them.

“What is it? Did it hurt you?” Sam rushed to the bed while Dean checked every corner, both holding their pistols. Mary even had a machete at the ready.

“It’s okay, guys. She just had a bad dream.” You explained, groggily getting out of bed with Kayla still trembling in your arms. “Do you guys have any milk? That usually helps her calm down.” Sam thought for a moment, but Dean responded quickly.

“Chocolate or white?” Sam turned and gave him a strange look. “What? That stuff is the nectar of the gods, Sammy.” Sam shook his head.

“I can’t believe you're older than me.”

“C-can I have chocolate milk, daddy?” Kayla sniffed.

“See, the kid gets it.” Dean scoffed. Mary smacked his arm. Sam was still processing being called dad.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the kitchen.” Sam held out his arms to take her and you hesitated. Then you remembered that you had been doing this for four years and he had missed all of it. You tried to give him a peace making smile, but he ignored you. Makayla buried her face in his shoulder, trying to hide her tears like a tough girl. Sam sat her down and went over to the fridge, finding the chocolate milk hidden behind a case of beers.

“I woke everybody up.” Makayla cried, covering her face with her small hands. Sam poured the milk and hurried back over to her.

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” He soothed, gently pulling her hands away. “Here, have some of this.” He held up the glass of milk to her lips and she drank slowly, her tears eventually stopping. “Better?” She nodded slightly. Sam pulled up a chair beside her, setting the now half empty cup on the table.

“I bet you never get scared.” Makayla looked at him, her big blue-green eyes filled with awe. Her eyes looked like his. Sam smiled.

“I get scared all the time.”

“Really?” She gasped.

“Oh yeah. In fact, I have nightmares too.” Her mouth fell open and Sam continued, his tone sweet and caring. “I used to be really scared of my nightmares, but you know what I did?” She leaned forward excitedly. “I told myself that I can face anything as long as I remember that I’m not alone. So the next time that you get scared by the…”

“The shadow man.” She shivered.

“Okay, the next time you get shared by the shadow man, you just remember that you’ve got me and your mom and your Uncle Dean and Grandma Mary. You’ve even got an angel on your side.” Her eyes widened.

“An angel?” Sam couldn’t help but laugh at her excitement.

“That’s right, sweetie, Uncle Cas is like your guardian uncle.” Cas could barely guard himself most of the time, but she didn’t need to know that. “You can always fight your fears when you remember that you are never alone.” She hugged his arm, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“My mom is right.” She beamed. “You are a hero.” And just like that, Sam Winchester’s heart melted and not just for the little girl clinging to him. Yup… he was in trouble.

Sam stayed up most of the night getting Makayla back to sleep so he slept in a little longer than the rest of the bunker. Mary got up first and made the coffee, followed by you and then a very disgruntled looking Dean. You were curled up in one of the chairs, looking over your journal. There had to be some way to connect all of your research to find the vampires’ nest.

“It looks like that girl has got Sam wrapped around her finger already.” Mary smirked, looking at you as she sipped her coffee. She wasn’t your biggest fan, of course, but heart breaker or not, you still gave Sam what she had always hoped for him- a family of his own. Dean made a sound, but he was still only half awake.

“So I’ve pinpointed the area of the nest, but not the specific location.” You slid your journal across the table to him. “During slower hunting seasons, they’ve stayed near home in Springfield, Colorado. As far as I know, there’s fifteen, maybe seventeen.”

“Perfect,” Dean grumbled. You were about to add something when your eyes went wide.

“Dean!” You shrieked, pointing to the doorway. He turned around in confusion.

“Oh god,” He jumped out of his chair and rushed to Makayla, who had somehow found his pistol and was now pointing it at his mother. “Hey kiddo, I’m going to need you to give that back to me.” He laughed nervously, holding out his hand.

“How did she get that?” Mary exclaimed.

“Hell if I know.” Dean kept smiling, hoping that Makayla would calmly hand over his very lethal weapon.

“That’s a bad word, Uncle Dean.” Kayla scolded, shaking the pistol at him. Dean’s eyes widened frantically.

“Makayla Mary Y/L/N, give him that gun. You know that it’s not a toy.” Your mom voice instinctively kicked in and Makayla pouted her lip, giving you her classic puppy dog gaze. You could tell that Dean’s resolve was failing to her cuteness, but you were holding strong. You put your hands on your hips. “Now.” She handed Dean his pistol and he quickly tucked it into his waistband. Mary was looking at you, blush spreading on her cheeks.

“What did you say her name was?” She gasped. You hadn’t even realized that you said her full name.

“It’s um, Makayla, after my best friend. And Mary… after you.” Even if Sam didn’t know when she was born, you still wanted his family to be a part of her. For the first time since you’d met, Mary looked at you without glaring. She looked really touched.

“Piggyback ride!” Makayla squealed before suddenly jumping onto Dean’s back.

“Son of a-” He started until you gave him a stern look. He glared back at you, but underneath his annoyance, he had a tone of affection in his voice when he spoke to his niece. “Alright kid, but only for a few laps.” You looked on with an amused smile. Dean even made a few horse noises, making Makayla giggle. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was Naomi, probably just calling to check in and make sure you were alright.

“Miss me already? How sweet.” You snarked. Your smirk dropped when it wasn’t her voice on the other line.

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time.” The man drawled. Your heart dropped. You knew that voice. That night flashed through your head. That fake southern sweetness singing your name as they hunted you, your best friend’s blood still dripping from their lips. Montgomery.

“Where’s Naomi?” You snapped, your changed tone catching Mary’s attention.

“She was delicious.” He laughed. You tried to focus on your anger to cover up the pain that shot through your chest.

“I’m going to end you, you bastard.” You said through gritted teeth. He just laughed.

“We know all about the little team you’ve assembled. It’s touching really. To think I’ve inspired a family reunion.” The vamp mocked you and you could feel the hot tears blurring your vision. “Make no mistake, Y/N. They’ll all die. Starting with that handsome tall one, the one that knocked you up all those years ago. But don’t worry, I have bigger plans for you.” His voice changed to a terrifying growl. “I’m going to turn you, Y/N. Turn you into the thing you’ve hated for so long. And that brat will be your first kill.”

Montgomery hung up and you looked at the phone with a shaking hand. Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him get to you. You threw the phone against the wall, watching it shatter on the floor. You didn’t even see Sam standing there. You were lucky you missed his head. Dean put a frightened Makayla down.

“Hey Kayla, why don’t you go with Grandma Mary for a little while?” Dean gave her a little push towards his mother and Mary took her to the other room. His flashed back to you. “The hell was that?”

“They killed Naomi.” You said, resisting the urge to wreck anything you could get your hands on, especially since Dean was the closest. “They killed her because she helped me.” Naomi was a good friend. Whenever you needed someone to watch over Makayla, it was Naomi’s place that you took her to. No questions as long as you came back in one piece.

“I’m sorry.” Sam sighed. His kind tone nearly made you break. You needed someone to yell, to blame you for letting this happen.

“We’ve got to take this sons of bitches out.” Dean was itching to kill and he knew you were too.

“We need a plan first, Dean. We can’t just go in swinging machetes.” Sam scoffed. “We don’t even know where they are.”

“We can always draw them out.” You suggested. “They want me, they can come and get me.”

“What? No.” Sam exclaimed. “That’s not even remotely an option.”

“Sam, it might be the only way to get to them.” You refuted. “They’ve been hunting me for too long. If Montgomery wants to dance, then I say ‘let’s dance’.”

“Did you suddenly forget that this isn’t just about you?” His jaw clenched and he crossed the kitchen to you.

“I’m doing this for Makayla.”

“No, you’re doing this for you!” Your faces were too close together and the look in his eyes made you take a step back. “You’ve gotten that sweet girl messed up in your fight for revenge when she should have grown up playing with teddy bears and Barbies.” That was the last straw. This wasn’t just about you.

“I am not John, Sam.” You spat. How dare he stand there and call you a bad mother? Sam just glared.

“Really, cause it seems to me you’re just like him. Makayla is growing up just like I did. A parent obsessed with vengeance, no regard for how screwed up they’re making their kid!” He barely finished his sentence before you slapped him.

Nobody said a word. Sam jerked his head back towards you and Dean was ready to step in before this got ugly. The moment was interrupted, however, by the quiet sound of crying. Your heart dropped and a wave of guilt washed over both you and Sam. Makayla looked up at her parents.

“We’re supposed to be a family.” She bawled. “Why do you have to fight?” Before either of you could say anything, she took off down the hall.

“Makayla!” Sam yelled, feeling absolutely awful.

“Kayla, honey come back!” The three of you went after her, but it was a big bunker and she was a pretty small child. “Makayla!”

“Damn that kid is fast.” Dean muttered. You stopped.

“Okay, Dean, you go check the dungeon, I’ll go check the bedrooms, and Sam you can look in the garage.” You suggested. Sam nodded, your fight put aside, but not forgotten. His cheek still stung a little.

“Makayla!” He called out, hearing you and Dean depart for your designated areas. He opened the door to the garage and was surprised to find the door open. “Makayla, come on out.” A cold breeze blew in and he noticed a little huddled form just outside the garage door. He took off his flannel and slowly peeked outside. “Sweetheart, what are you doing out here?” He draped his shirt around her. It might as well have been a blanket.

“I-I don’t like yelling. The shadow man always yells.” She cried. Sam sighed. He had made his daughter cry because he couldn’t just face his real feelings for you.

“I’m so sorry sweetie, you’re mom and I were having a disagreement. We won’t yell anymore.”

“Why did Mommy hit you?”

“She didn’t mean to.” He gave her a convincing smile. Makayla peeked over his shoulder.

“Who’s that?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.

“Wh-” His head was slammed into the ground before he could even turn around.

“Leave my daddy alone!” Makayla cried and a person in all black picked her up.

“No…” Sam said hazily, his consciousness slowly fading. “Makayla…”

Continue to Part Four

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

Sam Winchester: @theamuz; @adeliness

Makayla Series: @rhiannon-the-troublemaker; @hoboal87

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester daughter #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #mary winchester #winchester family #Jared Padalecki

74 notes · View notes

samdeancass · 4 years

Text

Not Moose

Requested by: Anonymous

Pairing: Crowley x angel!reader

Characters: Crowley, Y/N, Sam, Dean, Castiel (mentioned), Jody, Alex, Clare

Genre: Fluff

Description: (set in season 9) Y/N is an angel and has fallen from Heaven. She befriends a hunter who takes her to the Winchesters. When the brothers are out hunting, Y/N hears noises coming from the dungeon. She is surprised at what she finds.

All you remember before falling to Earth was a bright white light. Now, here you were, on Earth, scared and alone. You had been to Earth before so you knew what you had to do. You had to find Castiel and the Winchesters. Surely they could help you get back home, or at the very least give you some comfort.

Not knowing where to begin you began to walk, where to you really didn’t know. It took you a couple of hours but you finally found a Hunters’ bar. Thanks to your previous trips down to Earth, you had learnt a lot about the supernatural world and how things worked, especially with the hunters.

You strolled threw the front doors and walked over to the bar. “I’m looking for somebody who knows Sam and Dean Winchester. I need to get to them urgently.” The barman looked over and pointed to a woman sitting in the corner of the bar, along with what looked like her daughters.

You walked over to the woman and tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, do you know Sam and Dean Winchester?” The woman turned around and looked you up and down. “Yeah, who’s askin’?” You smiled in delight. “My name is Y/N. I’m an angel, or was anyway. All of us angels have been cast out of Heaven and I’m looking for the Winchesters to help me.”

The womans’ eyes widened in shock. “Oh, Ok. I’m Jody, this is Alex and Clare. I’ll take you right to the boys, I just need to take my girls home first.” You nodded in understanding and followed them out of the bar.

After Jody had dropped Alex and Clare off at home, you had begun the 5 hour journey to Lebanon. Jody was very polite and asked you a lot of questions about what Heaven was like.

“So, really, you all need to have vessels, even God?” You kept your focus on the road in front of you but, occasionally, your eyes drifted to the sky, wondering what actually happened to have cast all of the angels out of Heaven.

“I don’t know about God, but angels, and even archangels, need vessels to be able to walk around on Earth.” Jodys’ eyes widened in wonder. Her mouth opened to ask another question when her phone buzzed on the dashboard. She picked it up and put it on loudspeaker.

“Hey Jody, sorry I missed your call. What’s up?” A deep, gravelly voice sounded through the phone.

“Hey Dean. Well, I seem to have happened onto a fallen angel and she wants to come and see you and Sam for your help. I’m already on my way.”

You could here some sort of discussion going on in the background. “Alright, Jody. Just bring her here and we’ll take it from there.”

Jody talked for a little while longer before hanging up the phone. “Alright, Y/N. It’s set. Lets go to the Winchesters.” You felt the car speed up slightly as Jody pressed her foot on the accelerator.

Jody turned off the ignition of the car and turned to you. “Alright, kiddo, we’re here. Just walk down those steps and knock on the door. Sam and Dean will take it from there. I’m sorry I have to go, but I have to get back to my girls.”

You smiled at Jody and thanked her for all of her help. You got out of the car and walked slowly towards the large building that was standing in front of you. Letting out a nervous breath, you gave three knocks on the door and stood back to wait for an answer.

You heard footsteps quietly getting closer to you, then a loud noise when the door opened. In front of you stood quite a tall man with long hair and a little scruff growing around his mouth.

“Hey, you must be the angel we’ve heard about. I’m Sam and Dean is just down there.” Sam extended his hand out to you and you took it, warily. Sam let out a little laugh and led you inside.

You walked down the stairs and was greeted by a shorter man, with shorter hair but with more scruff. “Hey, I’m Dean. What do we call you?”

“Y/N, my name is Y/N. I was hoping you would be able to help me. I need some help in getting back home and I was wondering if you would be able to help me.” You glanced around your surroundings, taking in all of the different colours that were situated around you.

“Well, we’re not sure that we actually can get you back home, but there is one thing that we can do. There are a few spare rooms down the hall. You’re welcome to stay here until Cas comes back. He’ll be able to help you a lot more than we can.” Sam placed a reassuring hand on your shoulders as your face fell slightly.

“Hey, Sammy. I’ve just got a call from another hunter. They need our help tracking a hoard of vamps. We need to go.” Dean put on his jacket as Sam went to get his.

“Y/N, make yourself at home. Our bunker is your bunker. See you later.” With a little wave, Sam and Dean disappeared out of the front door.

For a while, you stood in your spot taking in all that had happened. However, you had begun to hear some strange sounds coming from further away in the bunker. Curiously, you followed the sound which led you to a door. You slowly took hold of the handle and opened the door.

As you walked in, you could see a man sitting on a chair in chains, singing horribly.

“Oh my goodness, will you please stop!” You placed your hands over your ears and made a face of disgust.

The man did stop but begun to study your face. “You’re not moose or squirrel. I’ve never seen you around here before. Who are you?”

You stepped closer towards the figure, entranced by his voice and demeanor. “I’m Y/N, an angel. Who are you?”

Crowley widened his eyes. “I’m Crowley, King of Hell. I’m sorry to say this, but I am transfixed with your beauty. Care to let me out of these chains and I’ll repay you in ways you couldn’t even imagine.”

With a flick of your wrists, the shackles around Crowley’s neck, wrists and ankles snapped open. “Thank you, love. Now if you would break this bloody devil’s trap, I’ll be able to whisk us out of here.”

You knelt down and made a line through the paint, instantly breaking the trap. “Thanks my dear, shall we go?” Crowley held out his arm, which you took, and you both disappeared to parts unknown.

Tags: @akshi8278

#crowley x reader #crowley spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #spnfandom #spnfamily #spn #spnfanfic

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riley-phoenix · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Nik X Reader(gender not specified) ... eventually

Canon: Choices: Stories You Play: Nightbound

Content: Murder, blood, depression, angst

Author's Note: This fic was written as a part of @nbappreciationweek, And is gonna be a 3-parter. The story is told from NIK'S POINT OF VIEW. The reader of this story(*your name*) is NOT the reader of Nightbound, Alex(default name of Nightbound OC).

Chapter Summary: After a tragedy strikes Nighthunter, Nik Ryder, he and the world of the supernatural are introduced to the best detective in New York

"Oh!, My bad", had been Nik's response to bumping into a stranger. He bent down to pick up the garage store items now littered on the floor. As their faces drew level, he noticed the golden police badge and uniform. "Working late, huh?", He said as he handed over the groceries.

"Mm? Oh, about to head back to the station actually, I'm *your name* by the way, detective *your name*", The stranger said In a formal introduction. "Nik", he replied, offering his hand, to which *your name* returned.

"I think I've got everything, Babe", Alex, Nik's then 'rookie', now partner says, joining the conversation. Alex looks inquisitively between Nik and the stranger. Nik pokes his head forward and introduces them, "Oh; this is *your name*, we just bumped into each other". A wide smile forms on *your name*'s face as they shake hands and introduce themselves.

As *your name* leaves the store, Alex turns to Nik, "You go ahead and get cleaned up, I'm gonna get some beers, they don't sell any here". "Okay, but be safe", he says, protectively. Alex laughs; "I've been a nighthunter for a year now, I can handle myself". Nik steals a kiss, then proceeds to walk back to their apartment.

A FEW HOURS LATER...

Katherine, Nik's old hunting buddy, knocks on his door. "Sorry, Katy I don't have time, Alex went out to get beers and hasn't been home in hours, I'm going to find--"

"Nik, sit down", she says, tears beginning to swell in her eyes. Nik looks at her sceptically, before moving over to the couch. "Katy... what's wrong?" He says, as a look of concern falls on his face. Katherine sits next to him, trying to find the right words ;or any words for that matter. "... It's Alex". She responds. Nik's eyes grow In size as he takes in her words. "That's... that's good right? So you've heard from--"

"Alex is dead".

Katherine spits out the words in one quick breath, trying to rip the bandage off. Her voice cracks in horror as she utters the "D" word. Nik stares at her in disbelief, not accepting her words, refusing to believe the love of his life, the rookie nighthunter that he'd shaped into a veteran... Is gone.

"N-n-no... No that's... You're wrong". A tear falls down Nik's face as he tries his hardest not to believe it. Katherine swallows; "I'm sorry, Nik..But--"

Before she could finish her sentence, Nik's phone buzzes in his pocket; "LOOK, IT'S ALEX", Nik says in disbelief, sliding the green phone Icon with his thumb; "Hello!?" He says, full of hope. "Hi...is this Nik Ryder?", a man by the name Bobby Johnson responds. Nik's expression falls to one of grief as he answers, "Yeah... This is He". Katherine watches on as Bobby proceeds to state things such as an address, a time, names... But finally; asks Nik to come down to identify the body. She overhears the final moments of their conversation, "Yeah...Hmm... Ok...I'm on my way". Nik lifts his head to Katy before Inhaling deeply and throwing on his jacket. "... I have to see it for myself... And I have to do this alone". He wipes the tears from his eyes before seeing Katherine out and rushing to the scene.

Nik gets out of a taxi, throwing a couple dollars to the driver as he sprints to the scene, anxiety taking control of him as a pit forms in his stomach. He rushes into a crowded crime scene, noticing the name of the road - "Smile Rd." .Pushing past people in an effort to get to the front. "You Nik?", A young, slightly stubbled man calls out to him. "You Bobby?" He Asks in response. Bobby walks forward professionaly to shake Nik's hand, "You sure you can do this?", He asked, concerned. Nik's face is plastered with a faraway gaze, as he stares out into the silent night, Illuminated by its noisy surroundings. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had to face something like this". He answers. "... I'm sorry to hear that", Bobby adds.

They walk over to the crux of the crime scene, black and yellow tape warding off areas, chalk markings made across the floor, Nik felt like he was living in an episode of CSI. The next few minutes were the hardest moments of Nik's life, his parent's deaths haunted him, Elijah, his mentor's death, damaged him...but the next three questions...they broke him...

"This phone had you saved as an emergency contact, can you confirm this phone belonged to Alex?"

"...Yes"

Nik pondered over the heavy machinery pulling a beyond saving vehicle from the depths of a waterfall, "Does this car belong to you?"

"...Yes"

"...Y...Y...y-yes".

And as the words left Nik's mouth, tears ran down his face like a river as he fell onto his knees upon the stone covered surface of the earth that seemed so cruel right now. Nik laid there, unable to think or move

10 minutes later, Nik hears a loud commotion coming from the wreckage. "What's all this about?" He asks Bobby "Mr. Ryder, it seems my partner has found something; Uh, this is Detective--" ,Nik cuts Bobby's reply short.

"*your name*!?" Nik shouts out, slightly Louder than usual, as he recognises the detective. *Your name* sees Nik approach the scene, "Oh my god... Nik?... I-I had no idea". Bobby looks between *your name* and Nik, full of questions. "You two know each other?", He asks. "We just bumped into each other at the garage", Nik explains, "small world", he adds on, trying to force a small chuckle.

"Anyway, what'd you find?", Nik asks, wiping away his tears. *Your name* looks expectingly at Bobby, not sure how to show this to Nik. "Nik... Did you know where Alex was going?" ,*Your name* asks in a concerned tone. Nik sniffles, "Umm, yeah...to get beers". A sympathetic look washes over the detective's face as the three of them walk to the wreckage. Bobby opens the back door, to show Nik seven empty beer bottles scattered all over. *Your name* walks over to the passenger side door, to reveal another three, lying next to two six-pack holsters, one empty, one with two beers left in it.

*your name* and Bobby look at Nik in a sorrowful way. "No-no...Alex wouldn't...not like th--" Nik struggles to find his words, he looks around the crime scene as his heart starts beating inevitably faster and his vision blurs. *Your name* steps forward and grabs Nik by his shoulders, "You cant be here, not now". Nik eventually finds his footing, his breathing is heavy as he gasps for air. "Let me walk you home", the detective offers. Nik nods his head, frowning. They walk slowly to Nik's apartment in silence

Inside Nik's apartment, *your name* sits on the couch, at best, trying to give Nik his space. Nik grumpily throws off his shirt, before he can reach for a fresh one, *your name* says something unexpected

"you're a nighthunter"

Nik looks back in confusion, trying to pinpoint what tipped the detective off. *Your name* signals to the tattoos on Nik's chest, before revealing *your pronouns* own, bearing it's own Nighthunter tattoos. "So what are you, Retired?", Nik asks. "Retired... MIA... Long story short, the life just didn't agree with me and I had to take a step back from it".

"I'm sorry to hear that..."

"...I'm sorry for your loss"

They say to each other, trying their best to be comforting.

Nik walks over to the fridge, with a small smile on his face and grabs two beers. He begins to walk over to *your name*, but stops short as he looks down at the alcohol, the memories of the wreckage and accident flooding back in his mind. He sets them down on the counter, then with a determined look on his face, turns to the detective, "you have to believe me, this is not something that Alex would do, she was a well trained Nighthunter, almost a veteran. It doesn't add up".

*Your name* takes in Nik's words, "I'm sorry, Nik...but...what do you want this to be?".

"I want it to be a murder investigation". He responds.

"Nik, say we do find a suspect, say they have a motive and no alibi, how do you think it's gonna look in court when they mention that Alex was going to get beers, and that the crash was littered with--"

Abruptly, *your name* recieved a phone call, Nik waits patiently as the detective takes it. He hears mumbling in the background as *your name* says goodbye and places down the phone. "Looks like we've finely got some good news".

"What'd they find?" Nik asks anxiously. "A possible witness, there aren't any cameras on Smile Rd. but this guy was on a road trip. He was heading back to Philadelphia and that's the only road back." The detective responds. "I'm coming with you, and you're not stopping me", Nik says commandingly. "Wouldn't dream of it" *your name* replies. Nik and the detective take the near-2 hour drive to Philadelphia, not taking any stops.

*Your name* pulls up infront of an apartment building, in the parking lot they see the car belonging to, "Mr. Turner", their possible witness. They begin climbing the stairway to the 7th floor when Nik speaks. "You think this guy saw something?", he asks. "I don't know but, there's only way to find out". Upon reaching his residence, apartment 6B, they are met by a crowded scene filled with paramedics, detectives, the CSI and Bobby. *Your name* turns to Bobby: "why are the CSI here?". "See for yourself", Bobby responds.

"Well, Nik, looks like you were right" *your name* says, as he returns to Nik. "...Right about what?" Nik asks.

"This is no longer a DUI case... It's a murder investigation".

Nik still looks slightly confused, not quite sure what the detective meant. *Your name* gestured towards the door as Nik pushed his way past a few paramedics to view the scene

Upon opening the door, Nik found several CSI agents making chalk marks over a dead body - Mr. Turner

He stands paralyzed, his fists cleched at his sides. As *your name* steps forward to try to comfort him, Nik notices something out of the corner of his eye. "Hey you're not authorised--", a police officer tries to repremand Nik, before *your name* intervenes, "it's okay, he's with me"

Nik tries to analyse a weird drawing on the wall before something else catches his attention, "there's something in his mouth", he calls out. The detective looks at Nik skeptically, then reaches for a pair of gloves. Reaching inbetween The corpse's lips, a note is revealed. The detective unfolds it, only to find hieroglyphics, numbers, letters and unidentifiable symbols. "It's a a god damn code" Bobby says, pinching the bridge of his nose. *Your name" looks at one of the junior agents, "make a copy of this and send it to me, send the original to evidence".

"it means either the murderer is trying to throw us off ... Or this is the work of the Zodiac Killer".

The scene turns into a heated discussion as the investigators and detectives within the black and yellow tape try to break down the information. "It's impossible, even if Zodiac was as young as twenty during the original murders, that was fifty years ago, he'd have to be an old man now". Someone argues. "They never caught him, what if this is their apprentice? Or someone trying to emulate him?" Another voice adds. *Your name* steps away from the scene, trying to get a clear head, yet soon, joined by Nik. "What'd you make of those symbols?" He asks. "I have a theory". The detective continues; "what if whoever, or whatever murdered Alex, isn't human. The CSI probably won't find anything 'cuz that's out of their paygrade, but you and Alex were Nighthunters, it's possible she could've made enemies. Now when I saw those Zodiac signs I thought 'nope, its just an act to throw us off', but what if... Zodiac isn't human. It'd explain the half century between his last murder and this".

Nik folds his arms, "That's worth looking into, but I saw something I think you should know about"

"What's that?", *Your name* replies

"Where Alex was murdered...", *Your name* continues

"...Smile Rd." Nik says aggressively

They both nod their heads in agreement. "We've got work to do", the detective says. Nik looks around carefully. "What about the non-supernatural side of this investigation?" He asks. "I'll let Bobby handle it", *your name* explains.

Outside, *your name* turns to Nik, trying to conjour a plan. "We found a connection between the road and the drawing, now we've just gotta find out if those star signs we're just there to confuse us or not. I need you to think Nik, is there anyone you can think of that'd want Alex dead?"

Nik looks up to the moon and let's out a small chuckle; "Oh yeah...I have my suspicions".

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Tags: @kinda-iconic @bloodboundismylife @regulusblacksbabygirl @statticscribbles @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @ladylamrian

#choices #choices stories you play #play choices #Nightbound #Nightbound book #nbappreciationweek

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kitkatwinchester · 3 years

Note

Happy Fanfic Writer Friday!!! What song lyric best represents one (or more) of your fics?

Happy (late) Fanfic Writer Friday!!

Oooooooh!!

Alright. You all know how much I love these questions, so you shouldn’t be surprised that I am of course going to do this for every single fic, ‘cause it’s fun. :)

Also, as such, you should not be surprised that it’s late. XD

Here goes nothing!

P.S. Since it’s up on both sites now, I’m going to use the version of The Diamond Girl that’s on AO3, ‘cause I like that one more. XD

P.P.S. Some of these are a lot longer than others, ‘cause I felt like I had to put a whole line (or five) to really get the full impact lol.

In Alphabetical Order:

QuoteV

An Angel and a Human: We are the broken ones, who chose to spark a flame, watch as our fire rages, our hearts are never tame, ‘cause we were, ‘cause we were, ‘cause we were, ‘cause we were born for this, we were born for this (Born for This by The Score)

Finally: Time after time, you refuse to even listen, I wouldn’t mind, if I knew what I was missing (You Won’t See Me by The Beatles)

Invictus: We’re not related but here’s good news, friends are the family you can choose (Friends are Family by Oh, Hush!)

Love Will Remember: I know it inside my heart, forever will forever be ours, even if we try to forget, love will remember (Love Will Remember by Selena Gomez)

Sibling Love: What if I’m far from home, oh brother I will hear you call, what if I lose it all, oh sister I will help you out, oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do (Hey Brother by Avicii)

Supernatural Adventures in Babysitting: My world is waiting, don’t want to stop, give up, I want it all ‘cause I just ain’t had enough, keep up, we’re gonna show the world that there’s just no stopping us (Wildside by Sabrina Carpenter and Sofia Carson)

The Third Winchester: You could give me hell, you could give me death, right before I bend, I will have revenge, fire through my veins, I will fan the flames, until my dying breath, ‘cause I will never go down any other way (Any Other Way by We the Kings)

The Untold Past: Truth is that it was always going to end, this symphony buzzing in my head, took a market of filth, and sold like summer (The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty by Panic! At The Disco)

Archive of Our Own

5 Times Pepper Reminded Tony She’ll Always Be There for Him and 1 Time He Reminded Her: I will show you the way back home, never leave you all alone, I will stay until the morning comes, I’ll show you how to live again, and heal the brokenness within, let me love you when you come undone (Right Here by Ashes Remain)

Always and Forever: Here’s to the ones that we got, cheers to the wish you were here but you’re not ‘cause the drinks bring back all the memories, of everything we’ve been through (Memories by Maroon 5)

Checking In (On You): You’ll always have my shoulder when you cry, I’ll never let go, never say goodbye, you know you can count on me like one, two, three, I’ll be there, and I know when I need it I can count on you like four, three, two, and you’ll be there (Count On Me by Bruno Mars)

Don’t Mention It, Sammy: So hold on, no matter what we’ll take our bruises and our bumps, but know until kingdom come, you’re not alone, and if this world goes up in flames, just take my hand, don’t be afraid, I’ll fight for you until my days on Earth are done, ‘cause two hearts are better than one (Better Than One by The Score)

Family Traditions: Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now, come morning light, you and I’ll be safe and sound (Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift)

I’ll Be There: I’m only one call away, I’ll be there to save the day, Superman got nothing on me, I’m only one call away (One Call Away by Charlie Puth)

Love in Not So Many Words: I never knew anybody ‘til I knew you, and I know when it rains, oh, it pours, and I know I was born to be yours (Born to Be Yours by Imagine Dragons & Kygo)

My Favorite Troublemakers: You are loved more than you know, I hereby pledge all of my days, to prove it so, though your heart is far too young to realize, the unimaginable light you hold inside (Light by Sleeping at Last)

Never Again: Help, I need somebody, help, not just anybody, help, you know I need someone, help (Help! by The Beatles)

Nothing Wrong with Being Yourself: When the sharpest words wanna cut me down, I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown ‘em out, I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I’m meant to be, this is me (This Is Me by Keala Settle)

S’More Family Time: This is a place where I don’t feel alone, this is a place where I feel at home, ‘cause I built a home for you, for me (To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra)

The Diamond Girl: My power’s turned on, starting right now I’ll be strong, I’ll play my fight son, and I don’t really care if nobody else believes, ‘cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me (Fight Song by Rachel Platten)

The Meaning of Christmas: So I’m offering this simple phrase, to kids from one to ninety-two, although it’s been said, many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you (The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole)

This Is Where...: We say goodbye, we hold on tight, to these memories that never die (Time of Our Lives by Tyrone Wells)

To An Amazing Big Brother: If you’re lookin’ for hope tonight, raise your hand, if you’re feelin’ alone and don’t understand, if you’re fightin’ in the fight of your life, then stand, we’re gonna make it through this hand-in-hand, and if we fall, we will fall together (Together by For King and Country)

Training Session: I wanna be like you, I wanna walk like you, talk like you, too (I Wanna Be Like You from The Jungle Book)

Welcome to Your New Home: Tell me why the world never fights fair, I’m trying to find home, a place where I can go, to take this off my shoulders, someone take me home (Home by Daughtry)

We’re Winchesters: Fire, faster, everlasting, higher, faster, never crashing, bet you didn’t think that I’d come back to life, stronger (Stronger by The Score)

What You Do For Family: When you lose your feet, fall down to your knees, and your heart’s about to break, I will be your saving grace, when your eyes can’t see, take. my eyes from me, when you’re lost and losing faith, I will be your saving grace (Saving Grace by Kodaline)

Where Life Begins and Love Never Ends: There is no power on earth like your father’s love, so big and so strong as your father’s love (Your Father’s Love by Gary Valenciano)

Who Knew Birthdays Could Be So Complicated: So if you’ve got an anxious heart, you’re not the only one, and I won’t let you fall apart, if you won’t let me run (The Village, the Wolf, and the Boy by Taylor Barrett)

Some of these don’t really fit as well as I’d like them to, but I think they all still work lol. And most of them are pretty spot-on!

Thanks so much for asking this! Sorry it took me so long to answer, but I really loved this question! <3

#ffwf #fanfic writer friday #fan fiction writer friday #fan fiction #writing #my writing #song lyrics #writing and songs #writing and music #writing and song lyrics #my stories #asks #personal #me #superherotiger

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chaoticneutralwriter · 4 years

Text

Fourth Act: Kindness

Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. - Galatians 6:2

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, supernatural, angst, comedy, slow-burn

word count: 8.9k

Related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin

Continuation of Third Act: Patience

A/N: WELL WELL WELL, we’ve found ourselves four acts deep and only three more to go. That much closer for our favourite demon boy to completing his goal right? 🤐🤐 Sorry it took so long as per usual T.T a lot has been going on but nevertheless, I’m still so grateful to all of your patience and love for the series so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter too! Time to ramp things up again after this LOL Oh! Also to note, the switch between names is intentional (you’ll see what I mean). As always, I hope you’re all taking care of yourself.

@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose

When you had woken up the next day, you were definitely a lot more relaxed, like the initial fear of having to confront the person who makes your body react involuntarily in funny ways has worn off. You’d laid in bed, taking the time to reflect on last night’s conversation and came to the conclusion that, no matter how short it was, you could’ve done worse. Granted, you had the safety net of talking to Jimin only through text message but baby steps! You just need to do a little readjusting, rearrange the new cards you’ve been dealt with so to speak. Even though you see your guardian demon in a more romantic way now, the last thing you wanted was for it to get out of control and potentially ruin the friendship you have with him.

You’d say you had a pretty good handle on that because much like last night, Jimin continues to text you every so other day. Most of the time, he asks about your well-being, of which you reply with your usual casualness (well, not like much goes on anyways). Then there are times where you and him have actual conversations. You don’t know how they start but whenever they do, it’s like coming home from a long day at work to discover that there was actually a tub of your favourite ice cream in the freezer all along — something to brighten the dull monotony of your life, a small sweetness for you to enjoy. You easily get lost in talking with him; the playful banter, the gibes, the jokes, even when the topics are meaningless, you find yourself grinning and giggling until your cheeks ache. Everything was still so natural and you’re proud to say, you’ve only slipped up twice! (The first time it was about his hair colour and you had mentioned black is probably your favourite look on him, the second was when you had mindlessly asked if he was ever going to stop by any time soon to visit because well—! It’s been a while right? Not like you miss him…that much.)

“Whatchu grinning at?”

The voice calling out to you makes you abruptly shoot your head up from being buried in your phone, eyes meeting Jaehee’s from across the table. She’s got a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a slight quirk to her eyebrows, that’s enough for you to know that she’s caught you red-handed in one of your giddier moments. Cheeks flushing, you clear your throat and swiftly send a text back before placing the phone down on the table again, screen blackened to hide from the curious gaze prodding at you.

“Just…A meme my friends sent me…” You lie, stuffing a spoonful of fried rice into your mouth. Jaehee lets out a huff at your answer, shoulders sagging and an unimpressed look taking over her face in replacement.

“Uh huh? Just a meme?” Jaehee sounds wholly unconvinced, punctuated when she also adds, “You’re not doing the face that goes with it.”

“What face?”

“The one where you go like this.”

She demonstrates by squishing back her neck until there’s a slight double chin and then curls her lips into a dopey looking smile while staring down at her own phone. The sight makes you snort unattractively, followed by a short guffaw that has you covering your mouth. Jaehee joins in laughing with you.

“I thought that’s the face I always make no matter what I’m looking at.” You defend.

“Nah, you practically had heart eyes just now, and you got like this Disney princess smile on.” Jaehee counters, leaning her elbows onto the table. “So, is it Julien or is it Julien?”

“What makes you so confident it’s Julien?” You ask with an incredulous laugh.

“So it’s not Julien? Cuz if it’s not I would actually be very disappointed.”

That earns a light scoff from you, like as if you even have enough interest to pursue someone else, let alone the capabilities to try to reel them in, “Well, no, as if—“

“So Julien—“

“Jaehee!” You exclaim, feeling particularly bashful at being called out so suddenly — since when did you have a look when you’re texting someone? Does it show that much? “Why, what would you say if it was him?”

Your roommate grins slyly in a very Cheshire Cat manner and you swear she’s radiating an aura of excitement, wiggling in her seat as she asks, “Are you guys finally a thing?”

Your eyebrows furrow, almost in disbelief; at what you’re not even sure yourself but it leaves you feeling a little crestfallen. “I— no we’re not really a thing. I mean….” You cut yourself off, not sure where you want to go with this or if you’re even ready to have that talk yet so you sigh out, “It’s complicated.”

It might sound like a dumb reason to others, but you’d rather not involve your most trusted friend into something you’re still unsure about. You don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill — get her invested in your boy troubles when she’s probably dealing with much more important life problems. At the admission, Jaehee’s playful grin slips and she tilts her head, puzzled. “Oh, really? I thought you guys were since….”

She trails off but you don’t need her to finish to know what she was implying. You let out a sigh again, shrugging and going back to spooning more rice on your plate in an attempt to brush it off.

“I don’t know…. I just— I’m still trying to work it out I guess.”

Jaehee watches you silently for a moment, taking in your dampened mood with concern before she settles back into her seat. “Damn, well if you need someone to vent then I’m here for you.” Pausing, she adds on with a small smile, “You know I’m always rooting for you.”

You can’t help but smile in return at her unwavering support. “Thanks Jaehee.”

Dinner passes on in companionable silence. Your years of friendship and living together have proven that you’re both in tune with each other; knowing and respecting each other’s boundaries as well as readily give support without having to say anything. It’s something you’re grateful for when it comes to Jaehee and is especially comforting because at least you know that the only pressure you’d be feeling is from yourself.

And that’s how you find yourself, staring aimlessly at your ceiling while lying in bed, deep in thought. The conversation with Jaehee, although it was brief, brought to light that, contrary to your beliefs, you’ve actually sunken yourself deeper into the rabbit hole. You’re no longer in that safe zone where if worse comes to worse, you’d be able to handle swallowing your feelings for your guardian demon and, maybe after a few days of sulking, would be able to accept that it was never meant to be. It’d hurt but you think it would at least hurt less; you’d be able to cope with it.

But before you realized it, your feelings have only grown and solidified from all the times you’ve texted that they have nowhere to go but out. You actually think if Jimin were to tell you he’s leaving the next day right now, you would have a bit of a mental and emotional breakdown.

So much for having a handle on things.

You bring your hands up to rub your face, letting out a little groan to yourself. As if sensing your distress, your phone comes to life with a buzz and a chime. It would’ve been a welcoming distraction had it not been a message from the very person who’s already occupying a huge chunk of your thoughts. So does it mean that you’re going to ignore it in favour of trying to get some peace?

“Did you have a good dinner?”

You’re typing out a response and hitting send because who were you kidding?

“I did! Good ol’ fried rice :)”

“…was it one of those days?”

“Hey! I enjoy eating fried rice once in a while >:( AND fyi, I had a sunny-side up egg on top so it’s not all as bad as it sounds.”

“Oh, how fancy of you~ “

(You roll your eyes as if he's saying it right in front of you).

“Okay chill out Mr. Bougie, I don’t need your judgment here.

I’m a simple woman.

I will eat anything as long as it’s edible.”

“Easy to please huh?

I quite like to see that for myself.”

You had to put your phone down for a hot second because you’re short circuiting. Why did your thoughts go that way? Did you ask for it to go that way? On second thought, maybe it’s you who needs to chill out.

A buzz catches your attention again and against your frantically beating heart and heated face, you go to check the message.  

“Are you in bed now?” 

You actually take a deep breath in and release it, trying to get your nerves under control but even so, the tips of your fingers still feel too jittery as you type.

“Yeah, just getting comfortable.”

“Good, you should get some sleep.

It worries me sometimes how late you stay up.

Makes me think you’re secretly a vampire or something.”

A snort leaves you and you shake your head at his accusations as you reply back almost instantly.

“I can’t help if I’m a night owl okay? And what would you do if I was a vampire? :O”

“Hmm….

Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

Maybe it’s because you’re so lost in conversations with him that something takes over, suddenly having the urge to get a rile out of him like the way he’s so good at doing with you that before you know it, you’re goading him on.

“Why? Would you nail me with a stake?”

Exhilaration courses through you, heart beat pounding against your chest like a beating drum as you wait. To your surprise, there’s a lull in the time he responds and it makes you preen a little, thinking for once you’ve managed to push his buttons instead of it being the other way around. It makes you anticipate his answer even more. Finally after a few minutes, a new text pops up. The words make you choke on air and you barely manage to smother the sounds of your loud coughs.

“I’d do more than just nail you with a stake darling.”

Once you’ve regained your breath, your face is absolutely on fire and your mind reeling. How do you even respond to that? Actually, you don’t even think you can — you’re here trying to one up a demon in his own game and all it got you was your foot in your mouth. You shouldn’t have expected anything less. As you’re panicking about where to even begin trying to play this entire thing off, a new message comes through.

“Like telling you that you should go to sleep or else you’ll actually start looking like the undead.

Sweet dreams, cherub. I’ll talk to you some other time.”

You wish him a good night in return, still very much in a daze at what just happened. Your hand flops back against your mattress and you just… lay there; no thoughts, head empty. Well, maybe one thought.

You really got it bad for him.

The streets of downtown are busy for a weekday, bustling with people who have places to go and others to see but considering the time, it’s not at all surprising. It’s approximately half past twelve in the afternoon, the general time where many who work in the office would be taking their lunches and with the convenience of the downtown area, many prefer to simply eat out. Whether it’s grabbing a quick bite or sitting down and enjoying a full service in the company of their co-workers, there’s a place that caters to everyone’s needs. It’s a time where everyone is eager to be relieved from their busy schedules and being cooped up in a cubicle for five hours straight before having to go back and push through the remaining hours of their workday.

It’s a very clockwork thing, something Jaehee knows all too well because she’s among the masses that’s a part of it yet as she watches her peers from her window seat in the cafe, she feels like the stranger looking from the outside in.

Almost three years ago, Jaehee had been like any other graduate fresh out of college; bright-eyed and ready to start their life as an ‘adult’ which meant getting a ‘real’ job. She had been so determined, vowed that gone were the days of being stuck with a minimum wage and she’s finally going to put her schooling to use. Of course, it wasn’t easy, half of the battle was just the interviews alone but over time, they start to affect her (as any normal person who’s been rejected over twenty times would, and in the form of ghosting no less).

So naturally when she had gone into that interview for a junior position in a rather small business, expecting no less only to get an offer? That was the olive branch Jaehee had been searching for in a metaphorical sea of pine trees. She accepted it without any further questions asked, the prospect of her first ‘real’ job overruling any doubts she would have had. A rookie mistake on her part, one that only really started to show once she was already in too deep.

At first, it was the small things; things that might’ve gotten under her skin at the time but very easily, Jaehee could push aside without thinking much of it again. After all, not like she expects this place to be perfect right off the bat. As long as they upheld proper HR codes, Jaehee didn’t mind that this was her humble beginnings. She had the mindset to work hard at her job, build her experience and then if things didn’t work out here, she’ll find somewhere else. So that’s what she did, she rolled with the punches every time and before she knew it, a year had passed.

But as time went on, more and more things came up; how the jobs she’s been tasked to hire candidates for always end up having little to no benefits in the long run, how because of that, they never stay for more than half a month at a time, how the inappropriate behaviour of some employees fly under the radar because it’s considered ‘not serious enough’ to be addressed, and how despite having worked for the company for years, her co-worker was never given a single pay raise no matter how well she did her job. It all made her uneasy.

Soon, telling herself to stick it out for just another year became harder that it quickly changed to just another month until here she is now, barely scraping it to three years and reduced to holding onto the single thread that’s still keeping her here — money, and even that is starting to wear thin.

As much as she hated to admit it, Jaehee has found herself trapped between a rock and hard place and she’s at a complete lost on what to do. The heavy sigh she releases felt more like it tore through her entire being, head slumping against the glass; maybe she should’ve hit up a bar rather than a cafe because she really could use a drink right now, happy hour times be damned.

Just as Jaehee considers going through with the idea, eyes scanning across the street to see if there were actually any bars or pubs close by, her gaze lands on an unexpected figure. At first, she didn’t think it was him, already hard to tell because of the black surgical mask he wore covering the lower half of his face while a pair of shades cover his eyes but the longer she watched him, the more sure she was; if there was one thing that stuck with Jaehee amongst the few times she’s met him, it was that he had an aura — he was one of those people you just knew looked attractive even from behind, which makes it all the more curious for Jaehee to see him about to walk into the same cafe she’s currently sitting in.

She watches as he comes to stand in the queue, head bowed and more focused on the phone in his hand while the other was stuffed into the pocket of his fitted dark wash jeans. Such an understated gesture but already out of the corner of Jaehee’s eye, she catches some customers looking his way with interest. The sight makes her stifle her chuckle; thoroughly amused at seeing what she had deducted earlier first hand. It’s only after he turns to head towards the self-serving counter, a medium sized coffee cup in his hand, does Jaehee think there might be a chance he’ll notice her and as if feeling a particularly steady pair of eyes on him, she sees his chin raise slightly more towards her direction.

So, with a slight wave of her hand and a smile, Jaehee makes herself known officially to the taller male, his name slipping out in a bright greeting, “Julien!”

She sees him momentarily pause, then tilt his head before he nods in acknowledgement, casually grabbing a sleeve and a lid for his cup. Once he does, he begins to stride toward Jaehee’s table, stopping short just beside the unoccupied seat across from her.

“Didn’t expect to run into you here.” He says in a light drawl as he pulls down his mask to sip at his coffee. What luck.

“I found this place to have the best coffee around my office.”

“Oh, so you work around here?” Julien sounds genuinely surprised, even takes a brief glance out onto the streets before seemingly coming to accept that possibility. “On lunch then?”

Jaehee can’t help the wry smile that makes its way onto her lightly tinted lips, shoulders heaving and the reply she gives leaves her in the form of a tired sigh. “Yeah….For now.”

At this close distance now, Jaehee can see Julien’s eyes faintly through the tinted colours of his shades, how they seem to observe her over the white rim of the coffee cup he has gingerly grazing his slightly parted plump lips, mid-drink.

One sweep of her form tells all he needs to know, so used to picking up the signs of a troubled human — a skill he’s honed over the many years of living to easier prey and exploit the vulnerable into falling victim to his dark temptations. But he’s not here to lead her astray (he thinks he’d have his head chopped off before that, courtesy of one particular gremlin he knew and adore). Besides that, he may or may not have a favour to ask of Jaehee.

“Well, you sure sound eager to get back to work.” He chuckles sarcastically. Jaehee lets out a quiet huff of air through her nose, crossing her arms as she further slumps into her seat.

“I have yet to honestly meet a person who actually likes going to work.” She mumbles sardonically, making the corner of his mouth twitch. Julien takes the opportunity to slide into the seat finally, tilting his head inquisitively in a way that reminds Jaehee of a puppy….or a cat…. Puppy-cat.

“You sound especially loathsome to go back.” Julien starts casually, placing his coffee cup down in front of him and after tapping his ring clad fingers against it, he continues with a sly smirk, “Smells like tea to me.”

Jaehee laughs, shaking her head as she also takes the time to sip more from her own cup. “Well, no! I mean…” Her voice trails off and her smile falters a little, like the gravity of the situation is settling in on her and there’s really no hope in trying to deflect with humour. Jimin waits patiently, watching the conflicting emotions flit through Jaehee’s expressions and to coax her into deluging more on what’s been bothering her, he smiles reassuringly.

“I’m all ears.”

She pauses to regard him for a moment and seeing his openly friendliness makes the last of her resolve crumble. How lucky you are that you managed to snag a catch like Julien; now she swears if you two don’t end up together then maybe romance is actually dead.

Pulling out from her thoughts, Jaehee brushes aside some loose strands of hair before she rests her chin in her hand, looking out the window to see a group of office workers enjoying the patio weather in the restaurant across the street, throwing their head back in boisterous laughter. She feels envious. With one last sigh, she speaks.

“Work…has been getting unbearable, to say the least and I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Julien hums. “Overbearing manager?”

“It’s everything really; most of the people there, the environment, the job itself…. It all just piled up and now every time I go to work it’s soul draining. I feel so anxious and…uncomfortable. All the time.”

“Have you…tried bringing those issues up with your reporting manager?”

Another heavy sigh leaves Jaehee, shaking her head. “I tried once or twice but they either brush it off or do the bare minimum to fix it. It doesn’t last long usually.”

Julien leans back against his chair, languidly folding his legs so that his ankle rests on the top of one knee. It makes for an impressive view of his insane body proportions that Jaehee still can’t believe can exist on a person; the long sleeve, dark grey and black knit tee is half tucked into his pants, giving a peek of his cinched waistline while legs that seem to extend endlessly, streamlined to a pair of black Chelsea boots. She swears Julien isn’t the tallest male she’s encountered (her own boyfriend Jason might actually be a head taller than he is) but somehow, sitting like this, you would think this man is actually seventy percent legs.

“Why don’t you quit then? You don’t sound happy being there anyways.”

His blunt suggestion takes her aback that for a moment she thinks he’s joking but he remains unfazed, completely serious. It’s a pretty obvious thing to do Jimin thinks, yet Jaehee is here looking at him as if he just told her to launch herself into space to escape from her problems. Times like these he’s reminded of how sometimes humans aren’t always so sensible. After the words have sunk in, Jaehee begins to piece together her thoughts.

“That’s…. Yeah that’s a given huh? But I just— I don’t know Julien.” The last few words come out in a sort of defeated whine, the same time Jaehee nearly slumps her head entirely onto the table in front of her and Jimin subtly takes his coffee cup to hold in the safety of his lap instead. “I want to, god I want to. At some point I even tried looking at other places and submitting resumes but I never get replies back and this place, as shitty as it is, has decent pay. If I leave… I don’t know what that would mean for me and Y/N — especially Y/N.”

Jimin sits up a little straighter at the mention of you.

“She’s still in school and also working too. I don’t want to add onto her stress load by putting ourselves in a financially tough place.” Jaehee buries her hands into her hair, mussing up the long locks into disarray with quite frankly the most severe, pinched expression of trouble Jimin has ever seen on someone. It ages her almost ten years before his eyes. He won’t lie, this isn’t exactly the kind of woes he thought he would be hearing from your roommate. Originally, he had planned to entertain her for a bit, slip in that favour he has and then be on his way. But seeing and hearing the extent of her problems now, he can’t help feeling a little sympathetic because in spite of the amount of distress it’s causing your roommate, she still thinks of you, even going as far as to consider bearing with it.

Though he might not know her well, it’s clear to Jimin that she cares about you a lot.

“Does Y/N know about what’s been happening with your workplace?” He asks carefully. Jaehee blinks before her cheeks begin to colour lightly in embarrassment and she ducks her head to try and hide it, as if just realizing how much of a mess she’s become in front of someone who she’s supposed to be keeping up good impressions for. She clears her throat awkwardly, moving to smooth out her hair again by combing through the strands and bringing her hands down to rest on the nape of her neck.

“Yeah…I’ve vented to her a couple of times about it, when things got too stressful so I think she has a good idea of what’s going on.”

“And…has she ever suggested you to quit and find a new place to work?”

Jaehee pauses in thought and then shakes her head. “Not outright I don’t think. She’s always hinted at it but she never pushes me.”

Jimin makes a noncommittal noise, smiling a little to himself — that sure sounds like you; considerate maybe even to a fault, which is why the next thought that comes to mind makes him feel disquieted.

The sudden silence from the male has her finally looking up to see what the cause of it was, only to find him looking rather bothered, deep in thought with brows pinched and a slight frown tugging down the corner of his lips. It makes her retrace her words, wondering if she had said something wrong and just as she goes to ask, he speaks up.

“Listen Jaehee, I might not…know Y/N well enough,” He starts, mindful of his wording, “but I’m confident that I know, and you know, Y/N really cares for you as much as you care for her, which is probably why she doesn’t want to push you to make a really big life changing decision. And that’s just the thing….”

He inclines his head, his attention suddenly focused on Jaehee and the weight of his gaze pierces through even the tint of his sunglasses. It has Jaehee straightening upright in her seat, involuntarily bracing herself from something she’s not quite sure of.  “She cares about you — your happiness matters to her more than some shitty job that pays well.”

Again, Jaehee is shocked into a stupor for the second time today by this man, his frankness so unapologetic but also from the amount of conviction he speaks concerning you. It was….highly endearing and she had to catch herself from grinning, choosing instead to stow away this little tidbit of information (that she may or may not share to you later). But more than that, Jaehee could swear that he even sounded the slightest bit defensive?

“So even if you quit now, I highly doubt Y/N would hold it against you.” Julien says, and in a much softer undertone that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaehee, “She’s not the type of person to do that.”

She feels strangely touched, so much that all she can do is blink, speechless. When words fail to form, Jaehee lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, choosing to resign to the fact of the matter; Julien is right about pretty much everything and she expresses as much.

“You’re right, she definitely wouldn’t do that. I guess I’m just…scared?” Jaehee wrings her fingers anxiously. “The guilt would eat me up if things go bad for us, all because I quit my job.”

She hears him hum and as she looks up towards him, he’s nodding. “That’s pretty understanding, but is staying and sacrificing yourself really going to be worth it? Gambling with your well-being isn’t something you should take so lightly.” He shifts in his seat and continues in a gentler tone, “You have the right to think about it and come to your own decision, I can’t stop you from doing that. For what it’s worth though, you deserve better and you’re surrounded by a lot of people who wouldn’t hesitate to help you.” There’s a brief pause where he seems to catch himself, then as if making up his mind however, he mumbles, “Including me.”

Jaehee can’t help her eyes widening a bit at the declaration and she nearly breaks out into a full on grin when she sees that the dark haired male in front of her has turned his attention to the window, raising his cup to sip on his coffee in what would’ve passed as a nonchalant manner if it weren’t for the slight pink colouring creeping up his neck or the way he refuses to meet her eyes anymore. For his sake, she discreetly bites her lip to manage the urge to an appreciative smile.

“Thanks Julien, for everything. I didn’t mean to unload all of my problems onto you like that but you’ve helped me see a clearer picture on everything.”

Julien shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “It’s nothing really, though you should probably sit down and tell Y/N all of this instead of me.”

Jaehee nods humming in agreement, already feeling lighter than she had been when she first sat down in this cafe. It’s made her change her perspective into a positive one, one where she doesn’t feel so trapped about her situation. So when she notices the growing number of office patrons dwindling and leaving from their respective lunch gatherings, she’s not as anxious at the prospect of going back. As if on cue, the man across from her takes a glance down at his watch (an elegant little thing; the black leather strap standing out against a pale wrist looked so flattering that Jaehee thought idly about maybe gifting Jason the same style and how nice it would look on him too…..until she balks with the realization that it was Chanel and the idea was immediately discarded).

“Looks like you’re due to head back.” Jimin remarks, noting the time before glancing up at Jaehee. She blinks, as if snapping out of a daze and it makes him quirk an eyebrow but then brushes it off; she must still be digesting everything that happened.

“A-Ah yeah…I should probably head back…soon…” He nearly snorts at the way your roommate is obviously stalling for time, not that he would blame her now that he knows what’s been going on. But with it, he thinks now is as good a time as any.

“Hey, before you go,” He starts smoothly to catch Jaehee’s attention. She perks up, inclining her head to him. “You think you can do me a small favour?”

Jimin’s not entirely surprised to see Jaehee nod expectantly, eager to accept without even hearing him out first. Oh well, makes his job a whole lot easier.

“Yeah what’s up?”

“This might sound a little strange but can you make sure Y/N…doesn't go off and do something she might regret?” He asks, trying to be as vague yet convincing as he can because if he wants to put his plan into action, Jimin can’t have you possibly seeking him out once you become too suspicious of his absent and blatant excuses on why he can’t come by. It would needlessly put you in very dangerous situations but with the help of Jaehee, he could prevent it or at the very least, stall until he’s able to pull himself together more. Even in this moment, he’s beginning to feel pinprick needles crawl up the back of his neck, the effort to keep a cool facade has him taking deep, steadying breaths. He sees Jaehee’s expression scrunch up in confusion, blinking and he doesn’t need to hear her question when it’s so clear on her face.

“I might be gone for a while, nothing too concerning so I don’t want her to worry.”

“I still don’t understand why you can’t tell her that yourself?” Jaehee points out, still very much confused as she crosses her arms. Jimin responds with a well placed wry smile, one he hopes doesn’t look more like a grimace than anything though he can’t help but feel that’s the case. It doesn’t matter, the discomforting and all too familiar stabbing has spread past his shoulder blades, making his skin break out into cold sweat. He gets up, ready to take his leave before he unwillingly keels over, the action startling Jaehee.

“It’s…It’s complicated Jaehee. Sorry I can’t tell you more but I promise it’s nothing serious. Just…” Jimin hates how out of breath he sounds, swallowing as he rushes to get everything out. “Take care of her?”

So caught off guard by his sudden sense of urgency, Jaehee stutters, “Y-Yeah of course. Julien are you sure everything’s okay? You don’t— ” She stands, about to take a step towards the taller male but he immediately retreats back and she halts.

“I’m fine Jaehee. I have to leave now, I hope to see you around.”

Julien takes off before she has the time to think of something else to say, long strides easily carrying him out of the cafe and disappearing down the side street.

Jaehee’s frozen, eyebrows remaining furrowed and mind racing in trying to process what’s taken over Julien just now. Furthermore, she starts to realize that maybe the growing clamminess of his complexion she saw earlier wasn’t a trick of the light after all. Now she’s confused and worried. What was he trying to hide? Unfortunately she doesn’t have time to linger on it, a quick glance at her phone lets her know that she’s already running five minutes late so with no other choice, she exhales heavily, squaring her shoulders and prepares to trek back to her hell hole of an office with the hope that it will be for the last time.

You felt it coming; another yawn that threatens to tear your whole mouth open and you just barely manage to stifle it. You’ve lost count on how many times you’ve yawned within the hour, each time it leaves your eyes watery and you swear what little energy you had would be expelled along with it.

On most days, this wouldn’t be anything new. It was just your luck that you get scheduled with an opening shift so in combination with your already atrocious sleeping schedule, your usual perpetually tired state is doubled. However these days, there’s something else added into the mix.

Your restless nights have since been plagued with thoughts of one reoccurring demon, and not the kind that people would imagine — figments of your own imagination conjured up from the darkest recesses of the mind to torment you — no, you’re the one who has a literal demon tormenting your thoughts and the worse part is he’s probably not even aware of it!

Clearly, you’ve underestimated yourself, didn’t anticipate for the rug to be pulled out from under your feet so quickly like that. You thought you could make nice with being in a one-sided crush forever when in reality, you’ve crossed that point of no return already and now all you want to do is confess your feelings, rip that bandage off once and for all.

You want to, but….

You’re still scared deep down. What was the lesser evil? Confess and be rejected or refrain and live not knowing? Both sound like complete agony to you yet in the end, you lack the strength to do neither.

And what’s more pressing is that time is running out for you. Above your chaotic, never-ending dilemma, the reminder stays steadily in the back of your mind like ticking of a clock, muted at first, only now it’s louder and clearer than ever — your inevitable crocodile encroaching to devour the rest of you, the ever fearful Hook.

You need to make a decision and soon before it’s beyond your control.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t notice the end of your shift until your manager bumps into you, still in the aisle absentmindedly folding and refolding the t-shirts.  

“Girl, what are you still doing here? It’s like way past one-thirty, you need to leave!” Rachel laughs, nudging the shirts out of your hands.

“O-Oh, really?” You reply, a bit dazed but nevertheless, thankful. “I’ll see you next shift then.”

She waves and you scurry off, heading to the backroom to throw off your uniform vest, clock out and grab your things to leave. One good thing about having an early morning shift is at least you get to leave by afternoon and with the weather so nice lately, the trip back won’t add to dampen your mood.

For good measures, you even decide to stop by Starbucks to get yourself some well deserved ice coffee. The barista greeting you with a bright smile when you make it to the front counter.

“Hello, what can I get you for today?”

“Can I have a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew?”

“For sure! Anything else?”

Your mouth opens to say that's all but then you stop, thinking to yourself briefly and then instead reply, “And one venti Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher.”

The barista nods, happy to punch in your additional order and that’s when you confirm then that that will be all. You move off to the side after you pay to wait for your drinks. You pull out your phone as you wait and absently wonder if you should text Jaehee about leaving her drink in the fridge when she gets home.

Lately, you’ve noticed Jaehee’s work schedule has become more sporadic than what you’re used to seeing; sometimes she’s home around three in the afternoon and other times you think she didn’t even go to work that day. Of the times she’s gone before you wake up, you find that she either has gone to work or was actually at Jason’s for the entire night. You don’t question it much, already getting the feeling that the cause is her troubles at work and she’s aware that you’re aware of it too, if the perplexed looks you shoot her whenever you see her on those occasions were anything to go by.

If this is Jaehee taking time off to simply get away and rest mentally, you’re not against it (in fact, you’re surprised that she hasn’t done so sooner). Regardless, you hope she’ll feel better and though it’s not much, you’ll lend her your ears and shoulder…..and maybe a large dose of her favourite drink.

Your name gets called and you go to collect your orders, then set off home. You arrive without further incident, enjoying the nice weather as you go. When you step through your door, you’re mildly surprised to find that your roommate in question isn’t home so you toe off your shoes and head to the kitchen to drop off her drink in the fridge.

After refreshing yourself by taking off your makeup and changing into more comfortable clothes, you decide to start prepping for dinner. Tonight’s menu is an amalgamation of things — you plan for chicken quesadilla with sour cream as the main dish but after spying a bag of frozen Korean dumplings and spicy rice cake, your stomach demands them to be served up as well. As they say, comfort food is always the best food.

You’ve just about finished grilling the last of the chicken breast and peppers to be used for the quesadilla when you hear the door unlock. Without having to check, you know it’s Jaehee and no sooner you turn towards the kitchen threshold, you see her trotting in.

“Hey.” She greets, doing little to conceal the tiredness in her voice and you offer a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, welcome home. You should go wash up and I’ll have the food ready when you’re done.”

Jaehee smiles gratefully at you before heading off in the direction of her room. You finish grilling up the remaining dumplings when Jaehee reappears again, bare faced and comfy like you are. As she seats herself at the small little table, you serve the quesadilla and dumplings first, letting the spicy rice cake simmer on low heat a little longer on the stove.

Looking at Jaehee now, you can’t help but to notice how worn she looks, dark bags beginning to form under her eyes even when she lets out a satisfied groan from taking her first bite.

“God I’ve been craving this all day.” She mumbles around a mouthful.

“You’re telling me.” You nod between chews. “As soon as I saw the bag of dumplings in the freezer, I had to make some. Same thing with the spicy rice cake, it’s been so long.”

“And that’s why we’re still roommates for so long.”

You laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly; your palette and overall love for food is what made your bond so strong, amongst other important things. You continue to eat in amicable silence, simply enjoying the food and each other’s company as part of unwinding for the day though a part of you itched to ask after Jaehee, to check in on how she’s really holding up. You only hold off for the time being to let her have her fill and forget about it, if just for a moment.

Eventually, by the time you’re both making quick work on the spicy rice cakes do you retrieve her little pick-me-up drink and wordlessly place it in front of her.

“Oh my god, girl.” She sighs out happily and you’ve never seen her light up so brightly in an instance. Your smiles matches hers as you take your seat again to pick at the remaining rice cakes.

“Knowing your workplace, you look like you could use it.”

After taking a hearty gulp, Jaehee places her drink down, a quiet pensive look taking over her expression. You can clearly see the thoughts swirling inside of her head, debating with herself but you wait patiently until she’s ready, if she’s ready. When you think the moment has passed, Jaehee finally speaks.

“Actually, I’m quitting.”

The shock of it still gets you even when you knew at some point this would happen. It was long overdue in your opinion, something you’ll admit you wished would happen because considering everything, you never understood how Jaehee had managed to put up with it for so long. You worried it would run her into the ground sooner than later and despite all the talks of leaving, they remain just that; talks. So over time, you choose to not push out of respect but remain firm in your beliefs.

Sitting up a little straighter, you swallow the chewy rice cake and nod approvingly. “Wow, for real? Like, you turned in your two weeks notice and everything?”

Jaehee breathes a laugh, sounding very much chagrined. “I think I did a little more than that.” At the inquisitive tilt of your head, she elaborates. “I sat down to talk to Ethan, my manager and I just…broke down and told him everything. Like, everything — how I felt about lying to candidates for a job that isn’t even worth leaving their current one for, how I don’t have even the basic benefits working for the company, and just feeling…awful coming into work every day.”

She inhales, “And then two days after that, he called me into his office and told me he was letting me go.”

Now that was shocking news to you. You blink incredulously, “After all that, he had the nerve to fire you? That just shows how much he cares.”

Jaehee can only nod, bemused herself but not entirely bothered. “Yeah, I mean I would be more mad about it if it wasn’t for the fact that I found out the company is literally a pyramid scheme.”

Your mouth drops without meaning to and you’re rendered speechless; definitely wasn’t expecting that. Jaehee lets a bark of laughter at your reaction.

“Yeah, exactly but it all makes sense now and it’s made me feel better about my choice. Now I’m just mad that I didn’t realize sooner.”

“Well I’m all the more glad for you.” You say, “Fuck that guy.”

Your remark earns you a half smile from Jaehee, one that is more morose than it is mirthful. It fades as quickly into something more serious, eyes downcast and fingers idly tracing the perspiration that’s gathered on her cup. “I’m happy I don’t have to work at that place anymore, but I don’t know what we’re gonna do about money from now on.”

She says it so sombrely that you might think she’s telling you the world is ending tomorrow. Okay, that might be a stretch but you do understand where Jaehee’s concerns are coming from. You’re not gonna lie and say Jaehee’s job didn’t play a huge role in helping you both pay rent and live well enough that you didn’t have to constantly worry about living from pay cheque to pay cheque. You’re lucky to be on a partial scholarship, but even then, you had close calls on paying rent on time. There’s a lot up in the air now, no doubt there’s gonna be a lot to change and though it’s worrisome, you find yourself not caring because more than anything, you’re happy for Jaehee and that’s something to worth celebrating instead.

“Yeah, we’re probably gonna have to do a lot adjusting once the time comes but really Jaehee, I’m just happy that you don’t have to work that awful job anymore.” You say, reassuring. “We can worry about all of that when it comes.”

Jaehee glances up then, staring at you as if searching for hints of a bravado but when she sees how genuine you are for her, she smiles and it reaches her eyes fully.

“You sure? Last chance.”

  “I’m positive. Hell, I’ll even put in a good word for you and who knows, we might end up working together.”

She’s snorts, shaking her head. “Thanks, I’ll consider it. At this point I think even a retail job would be so much better than what that was.” You purse your lips, considering the thought but agree in the end because as much as you loathed your job, at least there were moments where you could have fun with your co-workers; shit talking customers and managers is always a great way to pass time and bond.

You recline back in your seat as the atmosphere transitions into something lighter, like a weight has cleared the air and sip lightly at your ice coffee while Jaehee does the same with her drink. When she finishes it, she exhales, visibly more relaxed.

“So,” She begins, “what about you? Are you still talking with Julien?”

You blink, clearing your throat and scratch your cheek before answering distractedly, “Um…Yeah, like…on and off?”

Truth be told, the last message you sent to him was four nights ago. They were nothing special, just your usual chats as a way for you to talk about your day with sprinkles of bantering in between and maybe….a little flirting? Your head spins at the thought, butterflies erupting in your gut and even though these chats reduce you to a sputtering mess, they’re the things you look forward to the most at the end of the day. Which makes it worrying that you’ve noticed how they don’t last as long as they used to. You try not to let it bother you too much, thinking that perhaps it was just the insatiable craving for interactions that comes with realizing your feelings for someone.

And a hint of desperation in knowing that he may soon leave.

Maybe it’s the nature of the conversations that has taken place tonight or maybe you too needed to unload a bit off your chest, but you find yourself confessing your deepest worries too, finally speaking them into existence.

“Lately, I….I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” You struggle, stopping to try and find the right words but you think you won’t have such luck. Swallowing, you power on through the best you can anyways. “I don’t know when it happened, hell I didn’t think it would even turn out this way. I thought all we could be is just friends but then….” You scoff a laugh at yourself, “I caught feelings, and now I don’t know what to do with them.”

Jaehee takes in your words across from you with a serious air though it doesn’t quite mask how ecstatic she is at the news. The sight makes you feel better, although you wished you could match her enthusiasm.

“Are you planning on telling him then?”

The sigh you let out nearly takes everything out of you and you slump against your chair, nearly sinking down to your waist.

“That’s the thing; I don’t know if I should? Like, am I reading too much into this? Or like, maybe he—“ It pains you to say it, voice coming out small but you can’t rule out the possibility, “Maybe he might not look at it the same way I do. I don’t want to ruin our friendship just because I misread everything. And what’s worse is that….He’s…going away soon so I just feel like….It might not be a smart idea after all but at the same time I just….” You inhale from running out of breath mid-rant, only to finish off with a helpless, “I really like him….”

God you must sound pathetic…

“Okay first off, I highly doubt that’s the case.” Jaehee jumps in with surprising speed. “From what I know, it doesn’t seem like it’s just you. I…I actually ran into him not too long ago during lunch at work…”

“You did?” You sit up at that, interested.

“Yeah, we sat down and I was feeling so overwhelmed that day that I ended up telling him about work too. He told me how I should pluck up the courage to quit because I deserve better and to be honest, one of the reasons why I didn’t want to to do it was because I was scared that it would put us in a tough spot, especially with you being in school and all. I didn’t want to pressure you with anything because of something that was on me. But he wouldn’t have any of it,” She lets out a quiet laugh with a shake of her head, recalling the conversation. “He said that it doesn’t matter because you’d support me all the way, that you care more about my happiness than some job that pays well.”

Jaehee shoots you a wide smile, taking one of your hand and giving it a squeeze. “And he was right. He didn’t have any doubts that you wouldn’t have my back and…he even offered to help out if things get bad for us when he didn’t need to. I don’t know about you but that just tells me how much he thinks and cares about you.”

“If I’m gonna be honest, aside from BTS, I’ve never seen you really feel for someone so strongly before, and that has to mean something. I can see how much you really care about him too. So I think you should tell him, maybe even more so before he leaves because I don’t want to see you regret not telling him instead. I know it's gonna eat you up.”

Now you’re the one overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions running through you at once; touched, assured, surprised to hear that Jimin had been the one to console Jaehee like that, and to hear first hand how supportive he is of her and you…

Something surges in your chest, the feeling almost leaving you breathless but you’re beginning to feel invigorated, more sure of yourself. It gives you hope, a dangerous thing but you want to so badly believe that there’s something there, something more.

“You…really think so?”

She gives you a pointed look, stare unwavering and that alone is more than enough. “One hundred percent, you never know until you try but I think he’s just as into you. And if by the off chance that I’m wrong…I’ll be there for you, whether to pig out on a carton of ice cream or to beat somebody up. I gotchu girl, like how you got me.”

You take a deep breath in, squeezing Jaehee’s hand back and her confidence rubs off on you. You let it take away whatever remaining doubts you have left. There's no excuse to back down now, or to run from it.

You’re gonna do it.

You have to do it.

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years

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Misplaced trust pt. 2|2 [Jensen Ackles x Reader]

Title: Misplaced trust pt.2 ➔ Misplaced trust pt.1, Here! Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader Word count: 2.6k Published: 27 July, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Jensen meets you in a hotel’s bar and you immediately get along. Getting closer to each other is inevitable, until Jensen realises that you knew him all along, but kept it a secret.

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It's been a months since you have last seen Jensen. You have tried to message him once again, a week after you arrived back home, but it bounced back just as the first one. After that, you never attempted it again.

You were still hurting. His effects on you were beyond what you could have understood and each night you went to sleep, rethinking what you could have done differently.

You were wrong to lie to him, but you also knew that he would have never showed that gentle, funny personality of his, the real him, if he knew you were a fan. You were wrong to lie, you should have come clean straight away, maybe at lunch, maybe in the park. But you didn't.

However you didn't feel guilty anymore for keeping it a secret at the beginning. You got to know a side of him, that others didn't, which meant more to you than you could comprehend. Even if it meant he was to be only a memory in your future, you were to always treasure it.

There was another Supernatural convention, this time in New Jersey. Your friends were politely asking you to join them, if that could be called polite in anyway. They were harassing you more like to attend to the convention. First you kept denying them, but soon you gave in. You didn't want to think about him, let alone see him. It was hard enough anyway. But you gave into your friends' harassment.

At the convention you watched as they played around on the stage. Jensen, Jared and Misha were sharing behind the scenes secrets with the audience. Your heart clenched as you watched him happily chuckle at his friends and your eyes filled up with tears, the painful lump appearing in your throat once again. You were happy that he was in a good place, you were glad he was cheerful. But you just couldn't listen to him anymore, you couldn't watch him any longer. You whispered to your friends that you needed to leave and understanding what you meant, they let you go. You stood up from your seat and walked across the aisle, trying to avoid stepping on people's feet.

When you arrived to the entrance of the room, you looked behind you to take a last look at the man you were holding dear in your heart and your eyes met his wide, green eyes, clearly startled at your presence. You could read off his lips as he mouthed your name, but noone else noticed. You turned away, feeling the tears begin to run down your cheeks and left the dumbfounded man behind.

You stood at bar, waiting for the end of their session, while you sent a message to let your friends know where you were. People slowly started leaving the room and you saw Jensen trying to sneak out at the back, away from the fans. You felt a sudden determination came over you, so you followed him to the back of the building, leading to an alley, where he sat down on the stairs.

You walked up to his seated form and stood in front of him. His eyes grew wide as he studied you, running his eyes up and down on your body. You heaved a deep sigh and decided to speak first.

"Hi." You greeted him. However he didn't reply. He shot up and started walking back into the building. "Really? Stop acting like you are the only one hurting in this situation." You raised your voice. He halted abruptly and turned around to look at you. "You know what? I accept, that it was my fault. Yes, I might have been wrong to keep lying to you, but I started to like you, even if it was just a couple days. I am sorry that I wanted to get to know the real you, not the magazine boy who has to smile at everyone, because a paparazzi could capture him being a mean celebrity." You huffed in annoyance, seeing barely any change in his demeanour.

"You know what? I made a mistake and I didn't come clean about knowing of you. But I do not feel guilty for not telling you that I was a fan of yours, because at least I got to see the real you. If anything, I am guilty of wanting to get to know you, not the facade that you are wearing to please others." You huffed out of frustration. It slowly downed on you that you have just let out all that has been bothering you without him wanting to hear a word from you. You gently rubbed your temple, calming yourself down. "Whatever." You whispered just about for him to hear you, but he didn't reply. You heaved a deep sigh and left him on the stairs, still staring at the spot you have been standing at, just a couple of seconds ago.

You sent a quick message to your friends telling them that you have left and headed home.

You barely arrived to your apartment when you felt your phone buzzing in the pocket of your jacket repeatedly. You took it out and looked at the screen. Your eyes widened at the sight of the name flashing on it.

It was Jensen.

Your phone kept ringing and you didn't know what to do about it. You wanted to talk to him, but you were hurt. He acted as if he was the only one suffering from your dumb mistake. You heaved a deep sigh and made one of the hardest decisions in your life, when you pushed the red decline button on the screen of your phone. It quickly turned black. You kept starring at the blank phone as if you waited for him to call you again, but he didn't. You slid the phone into the pocket of your jeans and walked to kitchen to get something to drink.

As you headed back to the living room, your phone buzzed again. Looking at the screen, Jensen's name appeared in a new message notification. You opened the application, being curious about what he wanted. It was a simple message.

"Y/N, I'm still in New Jersey for a couple of nights. Please, let us meet and talk." The message said. He wanted to talk to you and in normal circumstances you would have been the happiest person, but you felt bitter. You decided to reply to his message.

"This sounds awfully familiar. As if I have asked you the same thing back then. Still you didn't even give me a second to explain why I did that. I'm over it, Jensen." You wrote and hit the send button. You knew you were being petty, after all you caused this mess, but you were beyond pissed as if the last month of pain decided to leave you all at once. You were lying once again. You were nowhere near over him or the situation, but you didn't want to give him the upper hand. Your phone soon flashed in your hand again as his name appeared on your screen. You opened the message to see his reply.

"I know, I didn't handle it well, but please, let's talk." He asked you and once again you didn't know what to say. Of course you wanted to see him, but he didn't give you a chance to explain yourself either. Why would you? Your phone vibrated in your hand again and you read his next message. "I will be at the entrance of the Hamilton Park by 9pm tonight. I will be waiting there. Please come and see me." He wrote and you just threw your phone at the end of your couch out of frustration. You didn't have a clue what you wanted.

Time flew by quickly. You sat on your couch, dressed up into a pair of black jeans, a black hoodie and a leather jacket, still debating if you wanted to go. It was past 9pm already and the park was about half an hour from your house. You knew he wouldn't wait for you all night, he wasn't dumb enough to do that.

You didn't even realise the time. It was already 10pm when you looked at the clock on the wall, silently ticking away as if it was telling you, you were already running out of time. You quickly shot up from your couch, picked up your bag and phone and ran downstairs, catching the first taxi you could find.

As you arrived to the park, you paid the driver in a rush and jumped out of the car. You took a deep breath and collected yourself, before you headed to the entrance. It was already in view, the blue Welcome to Hamilton Park sign lit by the public lights across the fence. Arriving to the entrance, you looked around, but he was nowhere to be found.

You heaved a deep sigh as you tried to keep your tears from falling. You had all kinds of thoughts running through your head from him leaving already as you were almost 2 hours late, to thinking he was never even there and it was some kind of a revenge, which you just shook off as that wasn't the person you got to know in him.

You sighed as you looked around once again, before you headed back to the same way you came from.

"I didn't think you would come." His familiar rusty voice hit your ears, making you slowly turn around. He was standing there with an expression you couldn't recognise. He let out a deep breath as he walked closer to your still standing frame. "I'm glad you are here though." He spoke truthfully. "Do you want to go for a walk?" He asked and you just nodded. You started walking by the fence, separating you from the Hudson River. The lights of the gigantic buildings of New York, lit the surface of the water, making it shine in a colourful rainbow. Silence fell up on you, but before you could have thought about saying anything, you were interrupted. "I'm sorry." He breathed quietly, breaking the silence between you. You shook your head almost invisibly.

"That should be my line." You smiled softly, knowing it was a good enough start.

"I guess, both of us screwed up." He stated and you nodded along.

"I lied to you though and I'm sorry for that. I really just wanted to see your real personality, not the one that's kind out of politeness for his fans." You tried to explain yourself, more calmly than your earlier monologue was at the convention.

"I know. And I didn't understand it until you decided to tell me off today. I didn't understand, I didn't consider that it had any effect on you." His tone was clearly apologetic. "I thought this through when you left and started to see your side as well. I guess I was just blinded by the fact that I have misplaced my trust so many times and I thought you were just one of those people who wanted to use me for their own greed." You quickly shook your head and interrupted him.

"I would never do that. I understand it might have come across that way, but I really didn't intend to use you. I wanted you to be just normal, not the famous celebrity, girls are drooling over. I wanted to know the real you. I knew all along that it was bad and I wanted to tell you, but I was selfish and I thought this way maybe I could spend time with you, without you having second thoughts on my intentions." You poured your heart out, placing it into his hand and you were just hoping he wasn't about to crash it viciously.

"I understand now and while I was pissed at not being able to get over you, now I'm glad I couldn't." He smiled gently.

"The news papers showed differently." You scoffed with a mischievous tone to your voice.

"Are you jealous?" He raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wider.

"No." You pouted, but he just chuckled at your reaction.

"You shouldn't believe everything the newspapers say." He replied with a soft tone.

"I guess, you are right." You nodded, your smile slowly returning.

"What do you say about starting over?" He asked as he stopped and turned to you.

"I would love that." Your smile curved up even higher and you reached for his hand to shake it and introduce yourself once again, as if you have never met before, just like you have seen in the romantic movies, numerous times before. However he had different intentions. He reached for your hand, but got hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest. His sudden actions forced a silent squeaking sound to leave your lungs in surprise. He chuckled at your startled face and cupped your cheeks in his big, manly hands. Before you had time to process what was going on, his lips were on yours, this time not even bothering to ask for permission. Your eyes widened in shock, before they finally flattered close involuntarily and you gave into the kiss, placing your hands around his waist.

It was nowhere near similar to your first kiss. It wasn't slow or exploring with a slight need in addition. It was passionate and lustful as if he was trying to tell you that he has been craving you for the past month.

You kissed back with just as much need, wanting to feel him even more. You couldn't have physically gotten closer to him, or so you thought, still you felt the distance was too big for your liking. He let his hands wonder down to your waist, managing to pull you into his body and you lifted yours to link them behind his neck, deepening the kiss, giving you more satisfaction as you felt him even closer now.

Air was much needed and you finally parted, but none of you planned to leave the other's embrace. Your bodies were still linked together, his lips hinting a quick peck on your forehead, before turning to look into your eyes.

"That's not really how a restart works." You giggled happily, which earned a playful eye-roll from him.

"Maybe we could start a bit further than the very beginning." He smirked at you, with an almost smug-like feature. But you didn't mind his confidence, it boosted yours too.

"I don't think I would mind." You chuckled and kissed him once again, enjoying the feel of his lips against yours.

Although there were loads of hurdles that you had to get through even at the beginning of your relationship, you knew that if you stayed honest and truthful with each other, your relationship would be anything, but ordinary. After all he wasn't an average person. He was perfect for you.

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jawritter · 4 years

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You and Me...

Chapter 10

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** Nothing really, some angst, hints of a panic attack possibly. That’s about everything, this chapter is pretty light.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader

Word Count: 1509

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. This is something I actually did and witness, and I realize this one might be hard to read because it is a little heavy.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

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You should have been glad, you should have been relieved… But you weren’t.

They were finally releasing him from the hospital.

Paperwork was signed, medications to help with pain had been called into the local Walgreens that Jared would have to pick up once Jensen was home and settled in.

Jensen was going home… To his home… Not yours.

Which shouldn’t have been as big of a letdown as it was, but here it is. There’s no way to change it.

He wants to go home…

Jared had tried to talk him into staying at your apartment in downtown Austin, but he refused. Said he wanted his life to be back to normal, and that he wanted to go home.

You didn't blame him. After everything he'd been through if the roles were reversed, you'd be the same way. You would be lying though if you said you weren't just disappointed.

"Y/N, if you can help him get into some fresh clothes? I'll go pull the car around so he doesn't have to walk all the way through the parking garage," Jared said, grabbing his keys.

Everything seemed to be moving in so fast yet in slow motion. Jared hurrying around to get everything ready to take him home, nurses coming in and out, signing paperwork, unhooking IV’s, giving instructions.

This would be where you left Jensen today.

It honestly made you a little sick.

You didn't like the thought of him in that big house all by himself, trying to take care of himself. He could barely move around this morning he was so sore. He overdid it yesterday, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

What if he had another nightmare, and there was no one to be there with him?

Turning, you grabbed the black pair of boxer briefs and slipped them over his feet pulling them up to his knees. Along with a black pair of jogging pants. He watched you quietly while you worked.

When you were done he stood in front of you pulling his boxers and pants up before changing his shirt.

The two of you just stood there and stared at each other for a moment. There was so much you wanted to say, but you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

He licked his lips and looked down at the floor.

"You're not mad that I'm not going with you are you?" he asked, sounding more than a little like a scolded child.

"No, I'm not mad, I don't like the idea that you're gonna be by yourself when you still can't even bend down to dress yourself, but I’m not mad at you for wanting to put your life back together, Jensen," you told him, and he nodded his head. Looking up at you he took a long deep breath.

"I know you're right, but If I don't get some sort of normalcy, if I don't do this I'm never gonna get past what they did to me. I can't let fear rule me,” he said, closing the small distance between the two of you. With some effort making himself put his arm around you, even though you know his ribs must have been screaming in protest.

That’s what he seemed to be complaining most about his morning was the soreness in his ribs.

Slowly and carefully as you could, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Helping to steady him a little on his feet.

"Just promise you'll call Jared if you need something," you tell him, looking deep into his forest green eyes.

There was an emotion there, the first you had really seen out of him since coming to the hospital when you found out what happened to him, but you couldn't pinpoint what that emotion was. It was too masked. The light that was once in his eyes was still gone, and that bothered you.

"I'll be fine."

His eyes travel to your lips then back up to your eyes.

Slowly, so slowly at first, you didn't know what he was doing he leaned in toward you, brushing his lips so softly against yours that you almost didn't even feel him. Then taking a deep breath he closes his lips around yours in a hard kiss.

It was hard and quick, full of different emotions that you couldn’t even name. It was intense, but it was short. He pulled away and it seemed almost as quick as he’d started.

Your lips tingle where he had touched you. Even in that very short time his lips were on yours it was like something had ignited deep down in your gut, burning deep down into your soul.

Grabbing his phone from the table next to the bed you put your number into his contacts. He watched you closely but didn’t stop you, still standing with his arm around your waist breathing heavily. It must have taken some mental effort to actually do what he just did. Still, hopefully, it was a sign that this wasn't completely goodbye, and you had to hold onto that, or you weren’t going to survive the ride home.

It was going to kill you.

At least it felt like it was.

You slipped his phone into his pocket before looking up at him.

"If it gets bad call me... Please don't stay there alone," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought against the tears that threatened to fall past your defenses.

For just a moment you thought you saw his resolve waver. The walls that he'd built up around himself about to give you a slight crack to peek in when Jared came back to the door.

"Ready Jay...."

He froze in place, seeing the position that the two of you were standing in.

"Hell yeah. let's get out of here," Jensen said, still looking at you.

Letting go of you he turned and walked away, holding himself up straighter so that if there was anyone watching they wouldn't be able to even see that he was injured.

Jared looked at you giving you an apologetic smile, then turned and followed his friend.

You felt like your world was falling apart around you. You didn't understand why, but you did.. Taking a deep breath you fight back tears as you grab your purse, and head toward the parking garage.

“You let your heart get involved, idiot,” you think to yourself. “Now he's gone, and any chance you had of being with him is gone with him.”

Getting into the car you make the short drive back to your apartment.

When you finally stumbled through the front door you poured yourself a glass of the strongest whiskey you can find in your house, and sit down at your kitchen table, kicking yourself for letting yourself get attached to him.

You knew better than that, but you let it happen, and now you had to deal with the heartbreak.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, about five glasses of scotch, and a shower later you were sitting in your dark living room, only the light above the stove shining through the open floor plan of your apartment, strumming ideally at the guitar sitting across your lap. You were just about to try and go to bed when your phone started ringing. You didn't recognize the number, but it had an Austin area code so you answered it.

"Hello."

At first, there was just silence.

"Hello?" you say again a little louder, listening closely you could hear what sounded like someone crying on the other end.

"Y/N? Can you come to get me?"

You would have recognized the deep, rough voice on the other end of the phone if you were clinically dead. You were on your feet in a moment. The light buzz you had drank yourself into long gone.

"Where are you? What's your address?" you grab your purse and fly toward the door.

An hour later you were both back at your apartment.

"Sorry, it's so small," you tell him as you take his bag, and place it on the foot of your king-sized bed, helping him sit down on the edge of the bed.

"It's fine," he says. reaching around and grabbing your waist. Pulling you to him so he could rest his head on your stomach, letting a huff air out. His shoulders were still tense as he sat there holding onto you.

"This is so embarrassing. A grown ass man, in my damn 40's, and I'm too chicken shit to stay by myself," he said as you run your fingers through his hair, laughing a little at his smart ass tone.

"You're not a chicken. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

You were so relieved that he was there that you really didn't care what had brought him there. Selfishly you never wanted to be apart from him again. Inwardly you curse yourself for being so attached to him. It was something you couldn't control any more though. If you were really honest with yourself you didn't want to try to control it. It just was. That was how it would always be.

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