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draconic-ichor · 2 days

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The Cat, The Sun, and The Moon

Fnaf fanfic

Sun/moon x female oc

Part 9

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, biting, blood, predator/prey dynamics, mentions of past trauma, cannon typical horror

Summary: Things deteriorate further, and Tabby decides Moon needs a little adventure out of the apartment as well.

Feedback appreciated, 18+.

Sun blinked back online, systems feeling sluggish from the lower temperature. Sitting up, the sound of cement granted against the metal of his exoskeleton, he grimaced into the sunlight.

He was on the roof again.

And his clothes were gone…

Sun huffed, lifting himself to standing. He glanced around, finding Moon’s outfit quickly.

The rising sun started to warm him, making movements easier, as he grumpily pulled on the sweatpants, forgoing the hoodie since he was just going to have to change soon anyways.

He was painfully aware his counterpart was offline, in rest mode or forced updates, he didn’t care to find out.

“Hotheaded.”

He swung a leg over to the fire escape, words low and growly.

“Self centered.”

He climbed down to the apartment's balcony.

“Piece of…”

His voice-box grated as he sat crisscross on the balcony floor, rays tilting to beginning charging. Huffing out to release tensions before they flared too high. Sun tried to focus on any little sound of the waking city, closing his optics.

Bip!

The sound of a complete charging cycle roused him from his meditations. He blinked, standing to return to the apartment.

Something was off…

He tilted his head, listening.

Walking quietly his mood dropped into worry as he spotted light filtering from the office door. Padding up, he knocked softly.

“Moon?” Came Tabby’s voice, strained with tiredness. Throat sounding dry as well.

Sun wilted a bit, despite his best efforts, faceplate leaning on the door as he responded softly, “…No.”

“Sun?” She sounded surprised, adding more to herself than directed at him, “Shit, what time is it?”

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Sure.”

He turned the knob, peeking in to see her at her computer, the dark circles under her eyes were only partially hidden by her smeared makeup.

“Have you been up all night?” He asked, free hand clenching into a fist with concern.

Rubbing at her cheek, streaking old mascara into an even worse mess, she answered sheepishly, “I guess so. Is it morning?”

“It’s seven thirty-six am…” Sun spoke in a way that was desperately trying to hide his disapproval, adding lower, “You work today…”

“Yea…yea I know.” She nodded, looking away. Forcing a weak smile, Tabby attempted to sound sure as she assured, “I’ll be fine though!”

“You’ll be fine?” Sun echoed.

“I’ll be fine.” She nodded, trying to convince them both at once, “I’ll just clean up a bit and buy like an energy drink or something on the way.”

“Star…” Sun frowned.

“I’m used to long nights.” She waved away his concern, standing, “This will be nothing.”

Sun stood to the side to let her pass, worrying his hands together as she rambled on about past experiences of sleep deprivation. He followed behind her as she went to the bathroom.

He caught the look that flashed over her features before she realized he was there: weary and self-reproachable. Turquoise eyes shifted to meet his gaze through the mirror, giving him a weak smile before starting to wash her face.

She hardly ate breakfast, mostly filling up on coffee before rushing out of the apartment.

Sun stood, just staring at the apartment door, optics far away and unfocused. He worried his hands together, rays retracting the longer he looked. He withdrew more into himself, feeling out of place.

You could only organize a one bedroom apartment so many times.

Sun knew that…weeks ago.

He filled the madding silence by stacking DVDs into a tower, carefully replacing them in alphabetical order before doing it all over again. It was almost therapeutic.

By the time he detected the door’s lock clicking open he’d been at the repetitive task for hours. Jumping to attention, his most recent tower was knocked over, making a plastic-y hollow sound as the cases clattered across the floor. Sun winced, swiveling to check if it was noticed.

If it was, Tabby showed no sign of caring about it, struggling to get her shoes off. She kicked them away, dropping her bag to the floor before stripping out of her work clothes. She looked about as bad as she felt, eyes dull and downcast as she made her way across the apartment.

He rushed to pick up the DVDs, placing them on the shelf with habitual ease.

“I missed you today.” Sun smiled, straightening to following behind her as she went into the bathroom.

“I missed you too.” She nodded, voice soft as she ran cool water to splash on her face. Sun noticed the little wince at the much brighter light of the bathroom.

“Sunshine…are you ok?” He asked, his excitement of her arrival fading.

“Y-Yea.” She didn’t look at him, “I just have a headache.”

“Can I make you something?” He offered, “Tea? Soup? Anything?”

“No.”

The answer was quick and simple, spiking through his casing. Sun moved out of the way as she crossed the hall.

“Maybe we can watch a movie?” He reached out for her, “Or, or, or, maybe-“

“I…” Tabby looked away, “I just want to go lay down, okay?”

Sun’s outreaching hands withdrew slightly, fingers curling into his palms. He forced his faceplate to keep the smile that painted over it.

“Well sure!” He agreed, masking his words in a cheery tone. His head tilted, a shadow of his desperation cracking through as he watched her. An optic twitched.

“Star?” He asked as she passed him.

“Yea?” She asked tiredly, not even turning to meet his gaze.

“Could,” he ventured, tone needy and searching, “Could we cuddle then?”

Tabby paused at the bedroom door, hand on the handle. He saw how her fingers clenched in the slightest, shoulders sagging before she spoke.

“I have a migraine.” her voice was low, “The light makes it worse….”

There was much more implied in the tense silence that yawned after her words, making Sun flinch a bit.

He couldn’t go where there was no light…

He straightened, fiddling his fingers together. Nodding, his voice strained to convey normality, hell even a bit of false positivity, “Of course!”

Sun’s voice was just a touch too loud, making her wince again.

“You just go rest, and and and,” his smile almost hurt, “I’ll be right here!”

“…yea.” Tabby acknowledged the sentiment just enough to escape the interaction.

Sun watched closely as she closed the door behind her, painfully aware of the small click of the lock. Now away from any prying eyes he cracked, tightening enough his movements jerked as his head tilted.

Optic twitched, wandering back into the main arena of the apartment, desperately looking for something, anything, to clean.

It was spotless.

Everything was done.

Things organized and reorganized.

The twitching worsened, metal fingers clinking together.

“Moon?” Sun whispered, deadly low. His voice was almost just a staticy hum.

Moon was online, he could tell. He heard him.

“Moon, if you ruin this for me…I’ll…I’ll…” the words glitched.

M: You’ll what, Sunny?

The words were flat, no challenge yet no fear in them.

Sun grabbed at his faceplate, fingers clawing into his rays. “Well golly, I don’t know what I’ll do!” He smiled wildly, chest hurting, “I don’t know what I’ll do…”

His anger gave away into despair, rocketing through him like a comet, burning him from within.

M: Sun…

“Moon…I…” Sun crouched down, hiding his face in his knees. His body shook, rocking a bit to release tension.

“I love her, Moony.” Sun whispered, voice strained, “I love her a whole lot…”

M: Sun…

M: Sorry, I don’t…I don’t know why I-

“I know.” Sun whispered into the fabric of his pants, words wobbly and uneven, “I know…”

The bedroom door was still shut long after darkness fell, standing like stone before the lunar animatronic.

Moon was on all fours, faceplate pressed against the door, listening. He could just faintly pick up the soft sounds of snoring.

Tabby was sleeping.

His optics blinked open, moving away from the door slightly.

That was good….she needed sleep.

So why did he feel restless?

Moon took a few steps into the main area, pausing to listen again. Pressing his faceplate into the floor, he could hear the murmurs of a different tenant, the soft buzz of a strange tv.

Nothing to hold his attention for long, lifting his head to continue his rounds of circling the tiny living space. His optics caught sight of something, bright fabric drawing his attention. He snapped towards it, pawing closer to find one of Tabitha’s plushies laying on the living room rug.

It was the Moon plush…

Sun must have taken it earlier to give himself some company in wake of our recent silence.

Moon thought sadly, coming closer to look over the toy. Something inside him shifted.

His head tilted.

He pulled the plush closer, staring at it as if it would move.

“Hate you…” Moon whispered, words coming out like growls.

Claws scraped the old wood off the floor, grimace seared into his faceplate. A static-y sound left his voice box as he stared down into the small sewn eyes: bright blue thread staring back.

Mocking him.

He hissed, “Hate you.” Hands caging in the little plush. His optics burned red as he brought his thumbs down over its small face, digging his claws into its eyes.

“Monster!” He gorged them out, ripping into the stuffing, “Hurt everyone.” His voice rasped.

Clawing into the plush further, sobbing sounds choked out of his voice box, optics squeezing shit.

“Hate you.”

He wished he could cry, could release this rotting feeling.

“Everyone hates you.”

Wished that his body was flesh, that it would rush to comfort him with chemicals, sooth his mind. But nothing came: no tears, no relief, no kind hand.

Just him, that little doll with a false face, and rot.

“Everyone…”

He swallowed, looking down at the mangled toy.

Blue orbs gone.

Gone…no reminder of what he should be.

Of his failure…

Of his mistakes…

His chest hurt, looking at the wads of stuffing, part of him desperately wanting to scoop it up.

Desperately wanting to be held…

In a moment his demeanor shifted, face hardening as he ground his teeth. He pushed the doll away as if it was filth, lip curling.

“Deserve everything.” He hissed as he passed, stalking towards the balcony doors on all fours.

Sleep only brought the slightest relief to Tabitha, blinking open her eyes to the first shafts of light that peeked through her curtains. She swallowed, mouth feeling dry and heavy.

She needed water.

Standing up, she unlocked her door and started shuffling across the apartment, half awake. She stepped on something substantial, something soft that squished and gave underfoot.

Instantly sobering from her sleep haze, Tabby cautiously looked down, images of dead mice making her stomach tighten.

It was stuffing.

Relief eased the tension at the fact it wasn’t the gross remains of a rodent she'd stepped on first thing in the morning, was quickly replaced as her mind caught up with her more, eyes following the mess to its source: the torn up plush.

A little sound of surprise left her lips as she knelt down, scooping up the remains of the innocent toy.

A pain ran through her chest, guilt washing over her all over again. She clutched the toy tighter, thoughts pooling ever darker until the sound of the balcony door sliding open ran a steak through them.

Sun walked through the threshold, looking sour as he stepped out of Moon’s sweatpants. He grimaced slightly when one foot got caught in a leg, hopping a bit in an effort to free it.

“Did you do this?” Tabby turned towards the balcony.

“Do what?” Sun asked, leaning down to pull the sweatpants off his foot, once bare he turned and shut the glass door completely.

“This!” Tabby held up the toy, tone a bit more sharp.

His faceplate tilted up, he padded closer curiously. Looking over the mess, his rays retracted.

“….no.” Sun answered softly, worry and hurt thick in his voice, leaving Tabby little room to question.

“What did Moon do last night?” She asked, worry thick.

“I…don’t know.” Sun admitted turning away. He padded to the hall closet, busying himself with getting dressed to make distance between them.

Tabby didn’t relent, watching him expectantly.

Sun pulled on his hoodie slowly, going on, “I went into full rest mode…I have no idea what Moon did…”

He crossed the apartment to place Moon’s outfit on the counter to wash later. Taking a breath he didn’t need to steady himself to turned back towards her, coming closer as he spoke, “Maybe we can get you another one?” Sun offered, hopeful. He forced a smile to accompany his words.

“I’m not upset about losing this!” She held up the toy for emphasis. Seeing Sun’s smile falter at the volume of her voice, Tabby softened, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. She sniffed, “I just…am worried and sad he would do this. I don’t know how to help, he never wants to talk to me and I just keep fucking things up…”

“Starlight…” Sun hummed, leaning closer to her.

“I don’t know what to do.” She sniffed, looking up at him.

Sun tilted his faceplate to bonk softly against her forehead, smile fully faltering. He thought for a moment, optics shifting about.

“I can try to fix this?” He offered, cupping a large hand around her much smaller ones, cradling the toy within.

“Could you?”

“Can definitely try.” He nodded, adding more softly, “I need more material though…”

“I can take care of that part.” Tabby wiped at her face more. Sniffing hard she mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He hummed, taking the toy to carefully set on the table. Sun urged her closer, scooping her up in a hug.

“I’ll get snot on your shirt.” She huffed, relaxing into his hold.

“I’m used to it.” Sun hummed.

Tabby shot him a sharp look. She didn’t crythat much!

Practically reading her thoughts, Sun reminded, “I watch a baby three times a week.”

“Ooooh…right.” She softened.

“Silly.” Sun chuckled, curling his body around her affectionately.

“Mr. Sun?” Dakota’s voice broke the animatronic from his trance.

Sun blinked back into the present, looking down at the young girl. Her dark eyes were big and worried.

“Are you okay?” She asked, tilting her head.

They sat at her little art table, coloring and making crafts together. Tabby had been at work for hours now, this being one of the babysitting days.

Sun’s optics shifted down, jumping a bit in surprise.

The crayon he’d been using prior now lay snapped in his tightened grasp.

“Oh I’m so so so sorry!” He exclaimed, guilt washing over him as he dropped the broken tool as if it burned him.

“It’s ok, Mr. Sun.” Dakota reached out to pat his arm. Her concern melted his heart.

“I’ll replace this.” Sun looked down at the broken crayon again, “I promise, I’ll bring a new box Wednesday, little comet. I’m so so sorry.”

“We can still color with it.” Dakota smiled finally, cocking her head downwards to ask, “What’ure you drawing?”

Sun glanced down at his picture, realizing he’d drawn a messy version of Moon in his stupor. His rays retracted. “I…uh…I drew Moondrop.” He looked up to ask quietly, “Do you remember him at all?”

“His candy!” Dakota nodded, standing up to race into the other room.

Sun shifted to check on the baby, finding him still resting after his afternoon bottle. Just as he turned back to the table, the girl returned with a book. She held it up proudly, showing off an open page.

“It’s Moondrop!” She announced, pointing a tiny finger to the page. It was a book with brief information about the animatronics from the Plex: this page in particular showing the iconic poster with the character Moon was based on.

It was an odd feeling, every time Sun saw the characters they were made to model, like he was wearing someone else’s skin.

And in a way…he supposed he was.

“Yes, Star.” Sun nodded, “That’s Moon.”

Dakota nodded along with him, beaming.

The realization that that poster was her only reference for his counterpart dawned on him.

She turned the book back towards herself, looking it over with a more serious look on her little face. Pouting out her lip in concentration, she asked, “Where does he work?”

“Well, he works with me.” Sun informed softly.

“But I never see him!”

“No…”

“Is he sick?”

“Kind of.”

“Can we make him soup?” She asked sweetly, “Mommy says soup makes you feel better.”

Sun smiled, shaking his head gently, “Soup won’t help, I’m afraid.”

“Awwwww….” She sulked.

“Thank you, though.” Sun reached out to ruffle her hair, “It’s awful sweet of you.”

She giggled, previous discouragement quickly forgotten.

Sun was quiet, watching as the child returned to her crafts.

He felt far away from the colorful little table.

“I stopped at the craft store on the way home.” Tabby sighed, holding out a bag at arms length.

Sun carefully took it, glancing inside as she went on, “I tried to get matching fabric from memory but….”

“It won’t be the same…” Sun finished her thought, voice sounding defeated.

“Should it be?” She ventured.

Sun’s rays drooped, agreeing, “I suppose not.”

They both turned to look at the toy, sitting broken and sad on the coffee table. Tabby reached out to squeeze Sun’s free hand a bit, making him let out a little sound. His head tilted towards her, murmuring, “Go rest for a bit…I’ll work on this.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, offering, “Can I help?”

“Not enough room for extra hands.” He admitted, but added softly, “Thank you, though. I can handle this, Sunshine.”

She nodded, going to take some medicine before laying down.

It was dark by the time she woke, bolting up a bit. She grabbed her phone: 9:31 pm…

Moon was in the same spot he found himself any night recently that weather would allow…on the apartment’s rooftop.

He lay on his back, staring up into the night sky. His hoodie had been left in the apartment, clad in only the old grey sweatpants and his hat.

Moonlight mixed with the glowing lights of the city reflected off the bare metal of his chest. Moon’s hand absentmindedly felt over the exoskeleton of his chest, fingers tracing the seams of cured silicone that littered them. Optics never leaving the sky, wishing to see the stars more clearly.

The light pollution and smog made them very difficult to make out even to his mechanical vision. His fingers curled in harder to his chest, threatening to damage the casing, closing his eyes to the yawning feeling of longing.

A sound made him sit up suddenly, faceplate swirling towards the fire escape. The metal creaked with added weight, the clink of shoes to follow. A pastel form appeared, Moon’s fight or flight response warning as he realized it was only Tabby.

She huffed, lifting herself over the lip of the roof. Brushing some of the rust from her clothes she padded over to where he sat.

She’d never followed him up to the roof before…

“Hey big guy.” Her voice was soft, guarded.

Moon looked her up and down, eyes reverting back to their normal half lidded state as his surprise waned. He huffed out, “Dangerous for you.” As he lay back down.

“You like to point that out a lot.” Tabby snickered, kneeling down beside him.

He made a dismissive sound, not offering her any other attention.

Tabby wilted a bit, following his gaze up into the sky. She wasn’t much for sky-watching, their place in the city guaranteeing a level of dissatisfaction to the hobby. Despite that, she attempted to get comfortable beside him, laying down on the concrete.

The cold of the roof seeped through her clothes quickly, sending a chill over her skin. Tabby crossed her arms over her chest, straining to look for any little lights in the dark sky.

They just lay there together, no idea for the time that passed. If not for the cold, Tabby would have started to drift a bit.

Moon made a sound, rousing her to attention.

“Why do they look…different?” Moon asked, voice gravely in its low tone.

“Hm?” She tilted her head slightly towards him.

“The stars.” He clarified, reaching his hand up towards the sky. His optics searched around as he tried to find the words, “So dark.” He pulled his hand back, clutching it to his chest, “….so far away?”

Tabby sighed softly, “It’s because we are in the city.”

Moon tilted his faceplate towards her, optic flicking away from the darkness.

“The lights drown them out.” She explained, “Out in the country, far away from any towns, they would be beautiful.” Her voice sounded wistful, closing her eyes as she painted the idea for her own mind as well.

“Have you?” He asked, voice hardly audible.

“Seen the stars?”

Moon rolled on his side, full attention on her now. A single claw scratched at the concrete roof, anticipation alighting his eyes.

“Never like that.” She admitted, a note of disappointment tinging the words.

Moon shifted a bit closer, the space between them warming up from shared heat. His teeth flashed a bit from his lip.

“Can we?” The words were light, much more than she’d heard from him in weeks. The shift in his melancholy blind-sighting her for a fleeting moment.

“See them together?” He asked more pointedly, part of him worried she misunderstood the question, while the other wrestled with the thought she wouldn’t want to spend the extra time together in the first place.

“That would be a long, long drive.” She admitted, watching him withdraw a bit. Quickly catching him before he completely hid away, she went on, “But…some day, I want to take you far away and see them.”

His gaze turned hopeful, a soft smile shadowing his lips. He nodded.

Tabby rolled back, looking up into the sky once more. A sigh left her, long and slow, as her mind wandered.

“I've hardly ever left the cities, just moving from one to another…” she admitted almost regretfully.

Moon watched her closely, single red optic never blinking.

“I want to see the ocean, and the mountains…” she thought aloud, wistfully, “So high we can touch the stars.”

“We?”

Rolling back on her side, Tabby nodded, “If you’d both come with me?”

Moon shifted, looking away as he clutched his hands to his chest. The sounds of the city as the only thing filling the silence between them.

“You don’t have to.” She soothed, voice gentle.

Moon shook his faceplate a bit, the metal making a hollow sound as it bonked against the concrete. His voice box seemed stuck with glue, words far away.

Tabby withdrew, mouth a thin line.

Sometimes they felt close, but all that warmth and familiarity could be washed away in a fleeting moment. Moon became quiet and hidden, bunching up in on himself to look small. He almost seemed scared?

Or maybe shy?

She thought, looking away as the gears turned in her head.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, excitement infecting her tone as she sat up suddenly.

Moon jumped at the sudden outburst, fans kicking up as he looked at her wide eyed.

“Let do something fun, yea?” She leaned over him, propping herself up on her hands.

Moon looked completely bewildered, hands going to wring his hat a bit without thinking.

“I know things have been…strained…between us.” She gave an awkward smile, “But maybe going out together is just what we need!”

“G-going out?” He echoed the words, optics widening further.

“Yea!” Tabby beamed, “I know somewhere I think you’ll love!”

Moon looked away worriedly, making Tabby double down, “No, you’ll love it, I promise! We have to drive tho so you gotta put a coat on.”

“Worried I’ll get cold?” He huffed, goading a response.

Tabby huffed herself now, snapping back, “No! I just don’t want people to stare at your shiny naked ass.” She crossed her arms as she finished.

Moon gave a gravely laugh at that.

Apprehension, and Moon’s inherent dislike of the car, strained his mood. Whatever mirth tickled around his chest now absent as he crunched himself up to fit into her tiny front seat, knees almost touching his chin.

Tabby has changed her clothes into something a bit more sturdy and dark, hair tied tightly back in a bun. She didn’t normally go out looking like this, making Moon’s curiosity thicken.

He looked away quickly when she glanced his way, instead focusing on the streetlights as they passed beneath them.

“I’m sorry…” Tabby’s voice came softly, glancing away again from the road a bit as she clarified, “About the other day.”

Moon just huffed, shifting to look out the window.

She gripped the steering wheel a bit harder, rambling to fill the silence and to soothe her own guilt. “I shouldn’t just assume the worst about you…you know?” Eyes flicking to see if there was any reaction. When one didn’t come she sighed, “It was shitty of me.”

Moon’s hand raised to do a ‘so so’ gesture, faceplate never turning from the window.

Tabby drove in silence, the awkwardness threatening to eat her alive.

“What about some music?” She offered, hand already going to the radio.

Moon turned to give her a narrow look of warning, Tabby instantly putting both hands on the steering wheel again.

“Okay, no music then.” She felt sweat on her lower back, this maybe being her top three of worst car rides.

“This is it!” Tabby announced, bringing the car to a stop.

Moon furrowed his nonexistent eyebrows, faceplate tilting.

They were in the parking lot of a long abandoned fast food restaurant, one that sported a multi level indoor playpark. Many of the windows were boarded up with large pieces of plywood, outer walls covered in graffiti.

Tabby got out of the car, going to pop the trunk. Moon got out more slowly, still trying to take everything in.

The sound of the trunk closing drew his attention, a look of confusion over his face.

Tabby smiled mischievously, holding up some flashlights and a crowbar.

“Wanna have some fun?” She asked, wiggling the crowbar.

“Where did you get that?” Moon frowned.

She scoffed, handing him a flashlight he truly didn’t need, “They are like ten bucks on Amazon. Come on.” She gestured.

He followed close behind, still trying to piece things together.

She looked up at him, smirking, “You miss the jungle gym right?”

He gave a small nod.

“Well this one has your name aaaalllll over it.” Her voice tinged with excitement, “Let’s play.”

Moon tilted his head, optic widening. A smile crept across his faceplate, nodding eagerly as Tabby ripped off one of the boards sealing the back entrance.

Anticipation made his fans kick up as he helped pry the door open. It creaked open with the sound of splintering wood, dust raining down on them.

He peeked inside, smiling widening.

“I used to work here…” Tabby explained as they wandered through the derelict dining area, colorful seats coated in a layer of grime scattered around the many round tables.

Moon didn’t respond, faceplate swiveling about to take everything in: old drink cups and food wrappers littered the floor, a cutout of the chain’s mascot standing in a lone corner. It looked at them with a big painted smile.

“But this,” Tabby announced, pulling open a set of double doors, “This, is where the magic happens…”

Moon stalked forward, hunching over a bit to investigate.

This was the play area: a multi level jungle gym made of plastic tubing, slides, play areas on each level, and plastic windows. The colors were dulled by years of neglect, dust coating every surface. The room echoed with the sounds of their steps, Moon’s posture changing to excitement.

He was practically buzzing, wishing his zip line was here.

“Well…” Tabby gestured upwards, “Have at it!”

Not needing to be told a second time, Moon was off. Reminding her of a released greyhound.

He ran about like a wild animal, climbing up the structure inside and out. He was deft and fast, just a blue blur about the rainbow plastic.

Tabby sat on a dusty old chair to watch, leaning back a bit as a smile reached her lips.

Moon was laughing, jumping to the ceiling rafters with glee. As he jumped to the next it gave a low groan.

Tabby leaned forward, worriedly.

The rafter bowed before snapping, it and the animatronic falling into the play structure with a clatter.

“Moon!” Tabby yelled, standing and cupping her hands around her mouth to call out again, “Moon! Are you okay?!”

A tense moment of silence answered her, Tabby steeling herself to climb up just as a fit of giggles broke out.

Moon crawled out of the twisted metal, a large grin across his faceplate. He smiled down at her, giving a thumbs up.

Tabby deflated, calling up, “Be careful!”

“No!” He called back defiantly, quickly resuming his explorations.

Rolling her eyes, she sat back down, pulling her phone free from her pocket to pass the time. She got lost within the tiny screen, unsure of how many minutes ticked away.

A sound made her look up.

Moon looked at her expectantly.

“Play?” Moon hung upside down, bouncing a bit as he attempted to lure Tabby in. When she looked apprehensive he shook the bars harder, voice more urging, “Play, Play, Play?!”

“I think I’m too big, buddy.” She looked at the old structure nervously.

He paused, head tilting to the side. He crawled closer, “No. Very small. Fit juuuuust fine.”

She bit her lip, Moon wilting.

He hung more limply, whining out, “Star said we’d play?”

Tabby huffed, “I did, didn’t I…” she sounded defeated, making Moon perk up.

He rattled at the bars again, chanting for her to join.

Kicking off her boots, she reluctantly entered into the play structure, batting away the cobwebs that tried to cling to her hair and clothes. It took a good moment for her to traverse the maze to find the opening where Moon was waiting.

“Okay…I’m in the tubes.” Tabby huffed, shifting around to sit more comfortably, her feet up against the fall wall.

“Let’s play chase.” Moon smiled, big and wide, his optics shining, “You run and try to hide, and I come after you.”

“Sounds unfair.” She crossed her arms.

Moon shook his head, trying to keep an air of calm over him despite the excited vibration that rattled through his whole form. “No, no, no.” He corrected, “I’ll play fair, I promise.”

Tabby squared her jaw, leaning towards him a bit as she held out her right hand. “Pinky promise?” Her smallest finger offered out, almost as a challenge. Her sea green eyes flashed in the darkness.

Moon’s smile returned with a vengeance, eagerly shuffling closer in the small space. He locked his pinky finger with her own, rasping out, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“You don’t have a heart.” She teased, making him roll his eyes.

“Cross my wires and hope to die.” He corrected lowly, optics narrowing.

Her lips cracked a smile.

But as she attempted to pull away, his finger gripped hers tighter, drawing her closer. She winced, eyes darting between the hold and his faceplate.

He leaned in closer still, huffing out synthetic breath into her ear. “The rules, kitten.” He whispered, “I’ll give you three minutes to hide before I start hunting. You can run as far and as fast as you want.” His voice was deadly low, causing a shiver to crawl up her spine.

“But if I win.” His smile spanned his faceplate, “If I catch you….You’ll be mine.”

As soon as the words sank in he let her go, the promise made.

He sat back on his haunches, detecting a spike in her heartbeat. Tabby swallowed, backing away to give herself room to breathe.

The dust heavy air suddenly felt stifling.

“One.”

Moon’s voicebox rasped, his claws flexing excitedly at Tabby’s sudden look of panic. She shuffled around to her hands and knees, stumbling over herself in her hurry to hide.

“Two…Three.”

His voice echoed off the plastic tubing. Tabby’s knees already aching from her crawl-running. No matter how far she seemed to go, his voice always seemed close, ever counting.

Finally she found a spot, far away and secluded, that she felt safe enough to stop. While trying to calm her thundering heartbeat she came to a sudden realization:

The counting stopped.

Tabby sucked in a breath, holding it in her lungs as she strained to listen.

The eerie silence was replaced with something even worse.

Moon was singing.

The animatronic’s gravelly voice sang along to his music box, glee evident in his tone alone.

“Round and round the cobbler's bench

The monkey chased the weasel

The monkey thought twas all in fun….”

The music stopped for just a fleeting moment. Tabby heard a bang much closer than she expected, hands going to her mouth to stifle a squeak.

“POP goes the weasel!”

The singing started again, much clearer:

“A penny for a spool of thread

A penny for a needle

That's the way the money goes…”

The scrape of metal against plastic echoed off the tubes, a gravelly voice chucked out the next line, “Pop goes the weasel!”

She bolted, adrenaline fueling her. An aching pain radiated through her knees as they scraped against the confined space, the old bolts holding the structure together snapping at her from static electricity. Her heart hammered in her ears.

All the while the singing continued, echoing around her.

He was everywhere, all at once. The image of his earlier romp flashing through her head: how quickly and easily he traversed the derelict structure.

“Round and round the mulberry bush

The monkey chased the weasel

The monkey stopped to pull up his socks…”

“POP goes the weasel!”

“Half a pound of tuppenny rice

Half a pound of treacle

Mix it up and make it nice!”

Tabby crawled through a cobweb, falling back a bit to sputter and wipe at her face. A red glow caught her eyes as the flash of teeth called out, “Pop goes the weasel!”

“Fuck!” She cursed, jumping into a nearby slide. Dust rained down, the bolts snapping and biting at her. One particularly loose one catching her hair and pulling it free of the bun.

Her sock clad feet hit an old play-mat, jolting her.

Shit.

She thought darkly, the slide only went to a different part of the structure instead of fully to the bottom. The darkness, mixed with the maze-like build had Tabby realizing she was thoroughly lost in the mess of rainbow plastic and foam coated bars.

She didn’t have long to mull over that as the singing picked up with a vengeance. Looking up, she just saw the animatronic dropping down on top the the layer she was currently in, giggling madly between words:

“Round and round the cobbler's bench

The monkey chased the weasel

The monkey thought twas all in fun!”

He was having the time of his life…

She thought before running again.

Like a scared little rabbit though its tunnels, as a viper hunted it down.

She burst out of the tube, falling into a small plastic room opening up somewhere within the structure. Tabby eyed another tube on the far side, trying to crawl toward it.

A hand shot out of the tube she just escaped, grabbing her ankle.

“Pop goes the weasel!”

Tabby squeaked, falling on her side as she was pulled backwards. She looked back, stomach suddenly dropping.

Moon was upside down, clinging to the top of the tube as he effortlessly crawled forward. His face was illuminated red by his optics, teeth looking exaggerated in the low light. He looked terrifying.

Oh fuck.

Tabby thought.

This was a mistake…

She kicked off his hold, trying to make a last ditch effort towards the far tube. She didn’t make much progress.

He darted from the tube on all fours, dropping down easily from the ceiling seconds earlier. A finger hooking into a belt loop of her jeans, pulling backwards.

Tabby lost balance, falling to her stomach.

“Fuck!” She yelped.

He pressed against her, faceplate dipping in dangerously close to her face. Tabby tried to raise up, her head being forced back into the plastic beneath her instantly. Moon’s hand tangled in her hair, using just enough force to keep her in place.

A low chuckle escaped him, making her tremble.

“I won.” He hummed into her ear, body caging her in.

“M-Moon?” She started, his hold tightening a bit to pull on her hair. She winced, falling silent.

“Shhhhhh.” He hissed.

The space felt hot, the smell of plastic making her head spin. She could hear the sound of Moon’s fans kicking up, steam a coming threat if he couldn’t cool his systems.

He carefully pulled down the collar of her oversized sweater, artificial breath huffing over her skin. Feeling her tremble, he chuckled again, low and slow.

After everything she was going to die in a stupid fast food play place…

She thought darkly.

Tabby felt teeth scrape the nape of her neck, panic pulling her back into the present. She tried to raise up on all fours, unable to with the weight of the animatronic over her. Moon clasp a hand over her mouth, stifling her yelping.

He forced his faceplate more into her, biting down. His teeth sank into the space between neck and shoulder, only using enough pressure to mark her.

Tabby’s body surged with adrenaline, and…was that arousal? Back arching at her body’s own will.

Moon faltered, hand slipping to allow a mewl to leave her lips. Sensing her vitals he pressed more into her, teeth popping skin. His tongue bathed over it in a mixture of curiosity and the desire to soothe the sting.

Her mewl thickened into a moan at that, Tabby trying to swallow the sound in embarrassment. He tilted his head at the sound, tongue trailing up the back of her neck until his mouth pressed against her ear.

“Fighting so hard.” He jeered, “Yet you enjoy every moment.”

She started to struggle again, Moon propping himself up to allow her to wiggle onto her back. She hissed, bite stinging as it hit the hard plastic through her shirt.

She froze, eyes locking onto his, catching her breath.

His optics were half lidded and hungry, a large hand moving to caress her face. Tabby could feel her heartbeat in her throat, the space suddenly feeling closed in and intimate.

Moon’s thumb moved to swipe across her lip, Tabby opening slightly unintentionally. His optics were fixed there.

“Moon?” She whispered.

Gaze flicking back to her eyes, he looked like a man starved.

She reached for him and that last thread snapped. Separate storms collided, crashing into one another.

His lips pressed against hers, warm to the touch. She closed her eyes, pushing back against him. Moon took seconds to force his tongue into her mouth, curiously exploring her taste.

It was odd, the animatronic not producing saliva or any kind of moistening agent in their mouths. His tongue was dry, tasting almost sterile. She could only detect the smallest hints of copper, wondering if that was her own blood instead of anything truly his.

Artificial breath huffed out, mixing with her own as he pulled back ever so slightly. Tabby panted, staring up at him, face crimson. He licked his teeth, a smile slicing his face in two before he ducked back in. Whatever he tasted on her, he clearly enjoyed it.

It was nothing like a human kiss, mouths too mismatched for that; yet it was zealous and needy, making her feel wanted in ways she never thought possible. Tabby held onto him as he lifted her, pushing her gently into the wall of the opening.

Quickly feeling overwhelmed, Tabby broke the kiss for needed hair. She hugged him, face against the soft material of his hoodie. Moon made a sound akin to a purr, shifting back to sit.

She tried to even her breathing, legs easily wrapping around his narrow waist for stability. Moon leaned back, faceplate clinking against the plastic wall, fans in overdrive to cool his systems.

“So I guess you enjoyed the tubes.” Tabby huffed, relaxing a bit in his hold. He made a rasping chuckle.

“Who knew letting you run around like a feral animal was all you needed to open up. She sighed, teasing in her tone.

Moon put a hand over her face, stifling sounds, “Shut up.”

They rested in the darkness for some moments, Moon clicking on his music box to fill the silence. A realization dawned on Tabby, however, sitting up. Moon opened his eyes, tilting his head to the side.

“Wait.” She thought aloud, “Wait, wait, wait….I thought we needed like a bonding exercise or something because we weren’t as close. But you just kissed me!” She turned, pointing at him, “We’re you just shy the whole time?!?”

Moon gawked at her for a moment, suddenly pulling his hat down, hiding his face.

“Oh. My. God.” Tabby playfully hit him, “You were!” She wrestled him for a moment to get the hat off but as soon as his face was revealed she made another upset sound.

Optics were black, faceplates frozen…Moon had shut off his faceplate.

“That’s no fair!” Tabby stood on her knees, grabbing a limp arm, “I've caught you this time!” She showily bit at his forearm, blunt teeth clinking against the metal.

Moon made a smirking sound, optics blinking back to life, it thickening into full laughter as she tried to look intimidating.

“Brat.” He took her face to stop her biting, smiling toothily at her.

“You have no room to judge.”

S: She’s right…

M: Shut up.

Tabby was home, cleaned up, and safely tucked in bed, Moon waited quietly until her breathing evened.

He carefully stood from the bed, having cuddled Tabby to sleep after their little adventure. Looking back, his optics scanned over her peaceful form, taking in every little piece of her

A smile reached his faceplate, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

Moon crossed the room, closing the door with programmed delicacy. Main directive complete he now had another job to work on…

Moon typed away at the computer, careful to listen for the door across the hall.

He was snooping again…

But this time, by request.

His optics scanned the screen, shifting to look at the medical discharge paperwork and compare information.

Yes.

He’d found it.

“Sun.” He murmured, looking over the information, “I got in.”

S: You actually did it?

S: You’d think hospitals would have better security…

M: It took me weeks…

S: True, true.

Moon read on a bit more, sighing.

M: There’s not much here…

S: She really hate’s hospitals.

M: Enough to not go for broken bones.

Moon shifted through the files, finding no record of her seeing medical professionals for the past fractures that the animatronics had discovered through scans. Fractures that healed oddly.

S: Check when she was a child.

M: I am.

M: ….

M: Nope. Nothing.

Sun was quiet, yet Moon could practically hear his worry. Moon looked further to discover Tabby made yearly visits to the doctors fairly religiously until five years ago. His brows furrowed.

S: She didn’t go after the fire to protect us…

S: Even though she was burned.

Moon’s frown deepened, remembering the multiple fracture points, healed in little knots of bone. She’d been lucky they hadn’t been full breaks, still things of that nature left untreated was risky.

S: Who was she protecting then?

#he did it boys #boy likes to bite #a bit of action #the car the sun and the moon #fnaf sun/moon #fnaf fanfic #sun/moon x oc #moon x oc

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neevedafoe · 6 months

Text

I have written something new.

I want to talk to you by NiahmDaFoe - Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud https://archiveofourown.org/works/51631282

You can also read it here:

Summary:

A fanfic in which Lockwood and Lucy call each other.

This is set during black winter. Between The Hollow Boy and The creeping Shadow.

This Fanfiction was inspired by Twitter and got me into a writing rage today thanks to Lavenderghostco posting a picture from the very talented Artist aenniyam from Instagram in which a rain drenched person dramatically leans over the telephone in a telephone booth.

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

*bip* *bip* *bip* *bip*

Lockwood listens to the busy signal of the telephone-handle pressed to his ear, clasping it tightly, water droplets running down his hands, falling from his hair leaving streaks on his face. He is soaked from the heavy downpour, which paints the early dawn in light greys and dark blues. How did he even end up in this Telephone booth?

He had run from the argument he just had. George had had enough. His reckless behaviour put them all at risk. And Lockwood couldn't face that he was indeed, losing it.

He had lost everything. He had lost her. Lockwood was so angry, angry with himself and his emotions of weakness. He couldn't stand George telling him off. He knew full well that he felt incompetent and lost deep down and didnt need his best friend pull it out into the open.

Lockwood had been reckless, although he knew that George and Holly were his responsibility. He knew he had to be a better leader, to be more cautious for them, but at the same time he had lost all will to do that. What does it mean if he can't even get Lucy to stay. Or to come back. He'd shown her that the agency was strong enough, so why didn't she come back? She could at least call.

So, why did he run here? What was he about to do in this telephone booth? Whom was he going to call? Lucy? Ridiculous!

He hung up the receiver.

*clack*

Maybe he just unconciously went inside to find shelter from the rain? Lockwood dropped his arms, took a deep breath, and tried to listen to the sounds around him. Around this little cubicle of space.

Night caps and the first few cars of the day were passing by on wet asphalt.

*drip*

Rain pondered against the telephone booth, corners of the now colourless notes glued to the booth by old scotch tape were flapping in the wind.

*drip*

Slow drops fell from his shirt to the floor.

With a deep breath through his teeth, he decided: he would call her; he'd show them that he's okay.

Maybe he'd tell her that she was stupid for leaving. That he'd be ready for negotiations to take her back into the agency. Tell her, that most debts were paid by now and that he could employ another agent to have more time to train with her to control her talent.

He realized that even in his thoughts he was rambling. He hated this. He'd show her. He'd show himself that he was over this!

He gripped the receiver once again, rummaging in his pockets for a coin and called the directory enquires.

He didn't - couldn't wait for the operator to speak:

"Lucy Carlyle, psychic investigations, London please" he heard himself say.

"Certainly sir. Do you just want the number or shall I connect you?" The voice of the operator was nice, soothing even.

"Connect please." he cleared his throat

"I'll connect you now. Have a good day sir!" the operator chimed. He heard a clack in the line and then the dial tone rang heavy in his ear.

*beep*

He took a deep breath.

*beep*

He didn't dare breathe out.

*beep*

Was she out on a case? What took her so long to answer?

*beep*

After a surge of impatience he felt all hope deflate. Maybe she was on a case after all. It was stupid, really, to think that she would be home at this time of day.

*beep* *click*

"Lucy, Lucy Carlyle - psychic investigations. How may I help you?" her voice sounded hurried and tired at the same time.

"...ah..." There were no sounds he could make. All his elaborate anger and prepared words were gone. She was there. She was alive!

"Hello? Can you hear me?" Lucy asked.

"..." he held his free hand to his face to stifle the sob trying to escape his lips.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?" she inquired.

...

*drip*

...

He felt his face go hot with tears.

"Are you still there? Do you need assistance? Shall I send someone?" Her voice now laden with a hint of anxiousness.

Lockwood couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry." it was barely a whisper that escaped him. He took the receiver from his ear and it felt like it got heavier with each moment he held it, while Lucy, Lucy was still there. She was there.

Just mere moments from hanging up he heard her :

"Lockwood?! Is that you?" She sounded concerned.

With a heavy “Thud”, he hung up.

*drip*

He curled himself over the telephone and allowed him a moment to gather himself.

*drip*

Tears mixed with rain as it fell in little droplets onto the telephone.

Why was it so hard to breathe? Why did this feel like his chest had been ripped open?

*drip*

Lockwood stood, wiped with his hands over his face and sighed.

He put on a smile like an armour and made his way back to 35 Portland Row.

********

As he got into the house at Portland Row, he was greeted by Holly.

"Lockwood, are you waiting for a call? We have had a caller all morning which only hangs up on me or George. So I figured it was .."

*riiiiing* *riiiiiiing"

George stomped out of the kitchen cursing "Oh for god’s sake, who is this?!"

"I'll get it." Lockwood said with a strange composure and he felt a small smile creep onto his face.

*riiiing*

"Lockwood and co, Psychic investigations. Anthony Lockwood speaking, how may I help you?" He tried to beam his Lucy Smile into his voice and hoped that it would come across.

"..."

Lockwood paused, contemplating what to say. George and Holly were still with him in the hall looking at him questioningly.

The other end stayed silent

"I'm here." he said. And with that the caller hung up.

Lockwood gathered himself, put down the telephone, put on a smile and turned to George and Holly. "Maybe wrong number?"

He shrugged overtly and began hopping up the stairs. "I'll be with you in a bit. Let's properly debrief then." He tried to sound as confident and careless as possible while stealing away to his room.

With the comforting sound of his heavy door closing behind him, he tried to sort his feelings. He knew the caller had been Lucy. She was concerned about him.

He felt a pleasant warmth rising in his chest while simultaneously feeling guilty to have made her worried about him.

They both knew that they were alive. That had to be enough - for now.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #save lockwood & co #save lockwood and co #locklyle #anthony lockwood #locklyle brainrot is real #lucy carlyle #savelockwoodandco #lockwood and co fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #black winter

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kitty-mactabbysh · 6 months

Text

Flowers In the Park, Flowers By Your Bedside

Alright loves, I haven't been here in a while. I'm sorry ♡

Can't promise to be more active, but I can promise a little something.

Keeping in mind I wrote this before MWIII dropped, so this might be my last cute thing before Makarov brainrot takes over (kidding ♡)

Content Warning: Implied Major Character Injury, which includes major angst with a (somewhat) happy ending I will be writing some other time. Please, accept this peace offering for the time being.

Soap didn't remember how he got there, in his favorite park, in the middle of such a sunny day, with busy people and chatter all over him, everywhere. But who was he to question some well-deserved peace and quiet? He sat down, sketchbook in hand, and let his mind and hand wander.

After a couple of minutes and another line down, he could already picture the whole drawing in his head.

Simon.

Sweet, loving Simon Riley.

There was no one Soap loved more, or cared for in this world, than he did Simon. He was all Soap could think about, sleeping or awake.

He sketched down a few more lines, getting the feel of his partner's mask before he got carried away with drawing his eyes. Always so beautiful, so full of life.

As he focused on his little sketch, a shadow blocked over the sun. Soap knitted his eyebrows together, about to pout in annoyance when he lifted his head up, the anger melting into a bright smile.

“Simon!” He chirped, happy to see him. The corners of Ghost's eyes moved, he smiled back.

"Listen, Johnny…” He scratched his neck, looking away, which Soap always found so cute of him. “I know I'm not a good example. Or a good man. Or good at anything other than killing. But I want to be better. You make me want to be better. For you."

Soap blinked, raising an eyebrow at Ghost. The vibrant green of the park's grass swayed in the gentle breeze, and the distant laughter of children playing echoed in his ears.

'What does he mean?' He thought, not understanding why his Lieutenant sounded so hurt. Did something happen? The scent of freshly bloomed flowers filled the air, and Soap couldn't help but feel at peace. He was at peace.

"What do you mean, Simon?"

"You might be confused, yeah... I would be too." Ghost looked down, fumbling with the fabric of his mask. The sun made his hair look much blondier than it was usually, and Soap's heart skipped a beat. There he was, sitting on a weathered bench in his favorite park, getting to listen to Simon's ramblings as much as he wanted.

Just like in a dream.

"It's okay." He smiled. The warm sun rays caressed his face. "I don't need to understand you."

Ghost's chuckle sounded distant, like an echo from another world. It… didn't quite make sense.

"You've always been too good for me, you know." He reached out, hand gently brushing against Soap's cheek, which made him jump a little, like he wasn't used to it. The gentle touch felt surreal, like a phantom's caress.

“What's wrong, LT?" Soap was starting to get a little worried. "What... what happened?"

"I'm not letting you down ever again." Ghost continued, thumb running down Soap's face, resting on his lips. So gentle, but so light. "I promise I'll keep you safe next time."

Soap's eyes widened. He lifted a hand, fingers wrapping around Ghost's, expecting a reaction. Any reaction.

He got nothing.

"Simon?" He called out, his voice a mixture of confusion and slight panic.

"When you wake up, Johnny...” Ghost's voice was distant again. “Know I will be here for you.”

He smiled down at Soap once again, hand retreating no matter how much the other wanted him to keep it there. He had no strength to stop Ghost at all.

“Wait…” He whispered, watching the love of his life walk away. “Please, don't go…”

•••

The faint bip of machinery was anxiety-inducing. Ghost's jaw snapped shut. They told him Johnny would wake up in a couple of weeks or so. Maybe less if he was strong. He knew Soap was. Knew his Sergeant well.

He only wished that Soap was awake, so he could share his regrets with him.

Let him down again. Just like in Las Almas. But he would fix this.

There was not going to be a next time.

He moved his hand towards Soap again, holding his fingers tightly, eyes closed.

“You know I love you… don't you, Johnny?”

For both of their sakes.

“Yes, I do.” Soap replied, his tone soft as he held Ghost's hand back. Maybe Simon didn't realize it yet… but he would be fighting this fight. And he would win.

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moddeydhoo · 2 years

Text

Stray first reactions: it’s wonderful, until...

Early-game spoilers up to first non-feline NPC.

Reached B12 and I gotta... uh... the game up to this point has been a very good experience. (Linear and Skyrim-physicsy, but otherwise good. Cat animation ranging from good to excellent.) However, the game with the addition of B12 is so far... really not?

Ugh. I don’t know. Judging by the achievement names, I feel like by this point the player is meant to be feeling lonely. Maybe that’s some neurotypical shiz. I wasn’t. Quite apart from the fact that I cut my teeth on Ecco 1&2, this game asked me to play a cat, so I have been playing a cat. I’ve been knocking things off ledges, miaowing demandingly at every door I come across, and generally enjoying myself.

The buildup to meeting B12 is perfect. Very foreshadowy and ominous, with all the Maneki Neko references. I was all over myself ready to meet an AI in a ruined world. I was thinking Rain World, New Vegas... you know.

And... so B12 appears and immediately dresses you (HISS), which is funny as hell because your cat flops over in protest and creeps around as if you’ve put deadly concrete on its fur and generally remains 100% characterised as a cat. B12 itself, though, is... just... really annoying? It steals the controls from me every few seconds, which is a cardinal sin oh my god don’t do that, and it says dialogue (it suuuure does say dialogue), but it’s not talking to the cat. It’s talking past the cat, perhaps at the player or the general surroundings, and it’s just rambling about itself. And I don’t? really have any reason to care? about its lame amnesia plot hooks? I’m a cat???

There’s no VA; it’s just voice bips with no variation. Obviously that’s saving money for localisation, but it means there’s no voice I can connect to -- no literal voice, no characterisation voice. The nonverbal communication earlier, with street lights flashing on and security cameras following me and responding to me? Exquisite. Being abruptly weaned on to English text is a huge let-down. The mystery’s gone. The dialogue isn’t well written. It’s characterless, stale and cliched. It’s honestly really surprising and a quite unpleasant transition. Plus, I’m a cat. I don’t understand language. I don’t understand objects, so the immersion, already stretched by my having to find power packs for things, is good and lost now because the game is still presenting me as controlling the cat.

Cats aren’t tool-users, you see; they’re people-users. They miaow, and then a servant does things for them. I feel like “demand things” would be a way funnier system than "use object on environment”.

I dunno. Feels like an intended emotional beat badly misfired and my immersion and independence were yanked away. I’ve saved and quit for now and am hoping I’ll find it less annoying next time... but as it stands, the opening section of the game was a great experience, and I’m kinda concerned that it might just have been ruined.

(also see self-reblog in which I try to put did more clearly with examples)

#stray #gaming #video games #cat #animal behaviour #actuallyautistic #autism

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biptomb · 10 months

Text

tag guide

tags i use in my posts for organization :) enjoy hell

#biptalk - original posts, probably just random shit and thoughts tho, i'll probably make a special tag if i ever post actually coherent things

#bipoem - occasional poetry. usually freeform

#bipwip - stuff about my wips/writing thats too feral/im too embarrassed to share on main yet

#bipjpn - japanese posts

#rebip - reblogs in general

#bipfix - current fixations/fandom [#bipblorbo - the ones... the guys.... #bipmini - miniatures :o #bipring - pro wrestling, usually njpw]

#bipmuse - cool/funny/cute art that other people made [#bipani - animation]

#bip recs - things i think are cool and you should check out if you think they're cool too, mostly used for little indie games i find

#bipbrain - reblogs where i rambled in the tags, sometimes for entirely too long

#biplive - spam warning for liveblogging anything

#bipstim - spam warning things that scratch my brain in a good way

#bipbag - resources/stuff i want to remember [#bipcart - the same, but for products]

#bip.bout - any reference posts for this blog (eg. this one)

for the mutuals

#radio show 🔮 (radio)

#saiph room 🧪 (saiph)

all biplive tags so far

note: i havent started using all of these yet, but im saving them here so i remember what i want to call them

#octobip traveller - octopath traveller

#the bips of tartarus - hades

#homophobip arc - persona 4

#the legend of bip - legend of zelda (mostly totk right now)

#biprim disasters - skyrim

#starbip valley - stardew valley

#bipitalism dungeons - moonlighter

#fuck this i hate this fuck this game bip - hollow knight

#fuck this game pt. 2 bip - rain world

#god i love bipshit men - the great ace attorney chronicles

literally just for me but you can use them too I GUESS

#bipnote

#[tefl] - translation exercises for later

#art ref

#bip.bout

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whatevenisyourdeal · 4 years

Text

So my family and I were organizing some stuff, and I came across this, and I thought you guys might want to know the story behind it.

I don't know where the tin is that this lid goes to anymore, but it used to contain a rather large Christmas candle. A few years ago, my mom thought she'd label the lids for all the boxes and tins we had with what was inside of them at the time, which meant labeling this "big candle."

The reason it says "BIP candle," according to my mom, is that "writing upside down is hard."

"But why did you have to do it upside down?" I then asked her. "It's a circle. You could have just wrote right side up and then turned it around."

Mom was quiet for a whole fifteen seconds. And when she finally spoke up, it was about a different subject entirely.

Ah, memories....

#my deal is rambling #I had to tell you about it now because we're putting the bip candle lid in recycling #since we no longer have the candle or the tin #personal anecdotes

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biplet · 1 year

Text

been having a reoccurring nightmare that I realize I forgot something when I get to my wedding. Last night it was my veil and getting my nails done. The time before we’re the musicians. Before that? The entire venue

Place your bets on what the next one will be

#my fiancé thinks it’s hilarious #he’s totally fine #Bip rambles #dream

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ageofnations · 2 years

Text

Chamomile // drw // Pt. IV

Summary: Danny often feels overshadowed by his best friends and bandmates. You, however, can’t seem to get your mind off of him.

Paring: Danny x fem!reader

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: fluff, more hangover symptoms, more angst, lil bit of a panic attack

A/N: feel free to leave hate in my inbox after this one (I'm kidding, plz don't)

Series Masterpost

Part IV

When you woke, you found yourself in a slightly different position than when you fell asleep. Everything was exactly the same, but Danny was the one wrapped around you. His arms had taken the same roles as yours did when you were behind him. He was holding you tightly in his right arm, and his left acted as a pillow as he was running his fingers through and across your locks of hair, indicating that he was also awake.

You didn’t move, and you didn’t talk, afraid that he would pull away once he realized you were up. You simply reveled in the tender moment with the man beside you.

He tugged you closer to him, somehow, and tucked his head into the back of your neck with a sigh. The deep and warm breath tickled your skin as he exhaled, and you automatically let out a soft giggle from the sensation.

Instead of pulling away as you expected, a soft “Hmm?” was muffled by his face pressed into your hair, which only made the volume of your laughter increase.

He lifted his face away from you and pulled back slightly. “What?” His voice was clearer now, and you could just imagine the smile on his face.

“I thought I was the one in charge of doing the cuddling,” you quipped, letting your eyes flutter closed again.

“Well, that’s how it started,” he said quietly.

“What, you wanted to rid me of my cuddling duties? That’s just rude,” you joked.

“No…you started having a bad dream or something. You were shaking.”

“Huh?” You turned around to face him, somewhat surprised by his statement. You had no memory of switching sleeping positions, much less of dreaming throughout the night.

“I don’t know what it was about or anything. I don’t even think you woke up afterward.” He unwrapped himself from you and shifted to put more distance between your warm bodies. He finishes his retelling with a chuckle. “I just remember you holding onto me like you were a boa constrictor or something.”

“God, Danny I am so sorry.” You cover your blushing face with your hands. “I didn’t even know.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. I was glad to be here for you,” he assured. “Even if I had to suffer a few bruised ribs.”

You snorted a laugh, resulting in an affectionate smile from him. You were thankful that you had removed your hands just in time to see his tipped-up lips on his still sleepy face. The sight made you secretly wish you could have experiences like this with him every morning. You already started to miss the way his arms completely enveloped you, and you so desperately wanted to take his soft lips into your own. You tried to quickly push the impulsive thoughts and urges away, having to remind yourself of the platonic boundary that still remained unavoidable.

“How’s your head? Do you need any more medicine before you head back home?”

The question was the only reason you remembered how much you drank just hours ago. Suddenly, all of the events from the night prior were fresh on your mind. The fiasco at the studio, the bonfire, the extremely intimate conversation you both had.

“I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt at all.” You lifted an eyebrow and gave him a side eye in forged scrutiny. “Are you tryin’ to run me off first thing in the morning, Daniel?”

His eyes widen. “No, that’s not it at all! I just-”

“Relax, Dan,” you interrupt him with a laugh before he can ramble through his nerves. You scoot nearer to him again just enough to rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m just messing with you. Thank you for looking out for me.”

He hums and sighs, placing his head closer to yours. “It’s my pleasure, Bip.”

You laid there, in comfortable silence, staring at the ceiling and focusing on every minute detail of the presence as you possibly could. The way his shoulders tensed slightly with every inhale, and how you sunk back down with him as he exhaled. The only sound you could hear in the room was the air entering and exiting his lungs. It was one of the most calming lullabies you had ever listened to.

“I probably should head home soon so I don’t fall asleep again.” It was far from what you wanted, but you knew it was best if you didn’t stay much longer. You were falling way too deep into the rabbit hole already.

There was disappointment in the sigh you heard from him this time, but you assure yourself that you had imagined it. “I’ll drive you, if you want.”

You nodded with a smile, pleased with his offer and thankful that you’d get to spend a little longer with him. “That’d be great.”

To your dismay, he started to pull back the comforter from you both. You reluctantly followed suit, taking a deep once you were finally upright and out of bed. You felt the shirt you were wearing rise up past your belly as you lifted your arms to stretch. Danny’s shirt. The memory of changing into his clothes made you blush.

“Um…Dan? You don’t mind if I wear this home do you? My clothes are still wet and gross.”

“Of course not,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks so much. I’ll bring these back as soon as I can. Let me grab my clothes, and then we can head out.” You didn’t expect to be back in his room before you went home, but now that you were, you figured it best to retrieve your personal clothes while you could. You started to walk to the hamper to collect the attire.

“You don’t have to.”

His question caused your head to snap up at him. “What?”

“I can just wash them and keep them in here so you have a backup for Josh’s next water balloon fiasco,” he said with a chuckle. “And you don’t have to bring that back either.” He motioned to the shirt and joggers you had on.

Something about him keeping some of your clothes in his room made you weak in the knees. The idea of you exchanging some of your belongings for his once again made you question where you two stood. You tried to convince yourself that he was just making a friendly gesture, one to make things easier for you down the road.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you say meekly. Instead of worrying about trying to brush your hair, you pull it back and fasten it with the extra hair tie you had. You grab your phone and other accessories you had brought.

Danny had his hand on the doorknob before he asked if you were ready to leave, to which you nodded. He opened the door for you and let you lead the way. As you progressed towards the front door, you heard movement in the kitchen and smelled coffee from afar.

Sam was standing at the kitchen stove with some sort of food sizzling on the pan in front of him. He was wearing the normal apron you’ve seen him wear every time he cooked since you first started being friends - a pink one with white polka dots and frilly edges. On the bridge of his nose rested dark sunglasses, presumably to shield his sensitive eyes from the sun’s brightness. The dissonance between the sunglasses and the apron made you chuckle.

Jake and Josh sat at the kitchen table. Jake’s feet were propped up, and he was reading what looked to be a popular music magazine. He had a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him. He reminded you of an old man relaxing and reading the latest news. There was space between him and his twin, but they still sat beside each other.

Josh had his arms folded and resting on the table, with his head face down in his folded forearms. You could visibly see the severity of his hangover in his small stature.

“Hey, guys!” Sammy yelled once he saw you and Danny emerge from the hallway. He received a death glare and a loud “shhhh” from his older brothers, but he didn’t react to them. “I thought you two had already left, but I can make you some breakfast since you’re still here.”

You decline with an explanation that you were already heading home, earning a few defiant, but understanding, whines from the others. They wave you off and send well wishes, making you promise to come see them again soon.

The ride back to your apartment was much too short to your liking. You and Danny had filled the car ride with loud and off-pitch renditions of your favorite guilty pleasure songs. You felt like a teenager again, spending time and making new memories with your best friend. But when he put his car in park, you felt your spirit drop.

“Thanks for taking me home,” you said as you took your seatbelt off.

“You should be thanking me for getting you here in one piece after the little dance break you decided to have,” Danny responds with a belly laugh. He puts his right arm on the headrest behind you. “You’re welcome, though.”

“You’re the one who told me to, and I quote, ‘break it down,’” you use air quotes as you roll your eyes. “I did exactly what you asked of me.”

“I guess you’re right.” If you were paying attention, you would have seen his eyes shift from your eyes to your lips. You would have seen the grin he wore. You most definitely would have noticed him lick his own lips as he stared. But instead, you were in the process of shifting your things so you could open the door and get out of the car.

When you finally do look up, you meet his eyes and match his smile. “You can also come in for a bit if you wanna.” You hoped he would accept your offer so you could spend a few more hours with him.

“I totally would…,” he started. You immediately frowned as you could see the continuation of the sentence forming from his mouth. “...but I think I should probably head back to make sure they don’t burn the house down.”

Although you nod in understanding, you couldn’t help but feel a little upset with him. You wished, at least momentarily, that he didn’t always feel responsible for his best friends. Maybe then you could be selfish more often, only having him to yourself. You say your goodbyes, but he makes sure not to leave without a hug from you. It was an awkward one, as he was still buckled in the driver seat, but you still enjoyed the physical contact nonetheless.

He made sure you made it inside before honking and driving away.

–

About two weeks pass, and you hadn’t had time to see any of the boys since your last visit. They had been busy at the studio, and while you definitely could have went, you were afraid you’d have the same experience as last time. You hoped that wasn’t the case, but you didn’t know what else you’d expect.

Since you had the luxury, you spent the hours perfecting hobbies and creating more things to sell in your online shop. You couldn’t count the number of movies and seasons of tv shows that you had completed, or the books you had began reading and restarted. You had probably listened to your entire vinyl collection at least twice, and zoned out into your own little land of fiction each time.

You missed Danny. You had finally come to terms with that fact, but it did nothing to ease your mind.

He had texted you as soon as he got home from dropping you off that day, guaranteeing that the house, and boys, were all in tact. Throughout the weeks, you’d text almost nonstop. He’d even occasionally sneak away from the others to call you for a few minutes. He’d gave you updates on the burn on Josh’s hand, which had healed incredibly fast, just as he promised. He texted you throughout the day simply to ask how you were doing, if you had eaten, and what you had planned for the day. Every time he asked about your plans, a part of you hoped he would be trying to come see you.

You were met with disappointment each time.

In fact, every time you went out of your way to make plans to see him, even just for a minute, he declined. He never did so without an excuse, saying he was busy with various things each time. You tried not to overthink it, especially since he had been so attentive over the phone, but you also started to feel as if he was pushing you away.

Today, you were curled in your designated reading chair by the window. It was about noon, and the steady rain added to the ambience of your lazy plans for the day. You had lit your favorite candle, less for the scent to whaft around you and more for the aesthetic. You hadn’t heard from Danny at all, but you decided to use it as a sign to take the day to focus on yourself. You even left your phone in your bedroom on its charger so you wouldn’t look at it all day like a mindless zombie. However, a soft ding was heard from the other room, indicating that you had left the ringer on. You decide to ignore it and continue with your reading.

*ding*

Less than a minute had passed since the initial notification before you get another. And another. And another.

You sigh and rest your head against the back of the chair, hoping to muffle the noises coming from your phone. The words on the textured pages in front of you became harder and harder to pay attention to as the notifications kept sounding. You groan and finally convince yourself to get up and see who was trying to get in touch with you. You’re filled with slight dread as you hear a ringtone start to trill, causing you to put a little more pep in your step to get to the device.

You were extremely surprised, and even more anxious, to see Josh’s contact on the screen. You answer it quickly before it goes to voicemail.

“Josh is everything-”

“Are you at home?” Josh interrupts you. You could hear the faint sound of keys jingling in the background. You couldn’t sense any hint of panic in his voice, but you did hear urgency.

“I- yeah, I’m-”

“Okay, good. I’m coming in.”

You felt disoriented from the fast pace of the conversation, and before you could finish another sentence, the call is ended and you heard the front door of your apartment unlock and open. You silently scolded yourself for letting the boys share the extra key to your place.

You make it back into the living room right as Josh is entering and shutting the door behind him.

“Josh, what’s going on?”

He carelessly tosses his phone and keys onto the coffee table with a loud clang that made you wince. He was visibly distressed, and there was a trace of more emotions in his expression and body language, but you couldn’t quite name them. He started to pace the living room floor as you slowly approached him.

“Danny, he-” he clenched his hands tightly, and you noticed his jaw tense. “He told us he didn’t feel appreciated? Like in the band?”

Oh. That.

You had tried to talk Danny into talking to the others as soon as possible about what he had brought up to you. They hadn’t made much progress recording despite being in the studio almost every day, and that was all because of the same arguments as you had witnessed yourself. You at least figured he would have told you when he planned to bring it up to the group.

“I mean,” Josh started again, still pacing. “Why would he say that? You have to know, right? It feels like he tells you everything.”

You sigh. You didn’t want to be the one addressing the issue because it frankly was none of your business, but it seemed as if you had no choice.

“Josh, sit with me and tell me what happened.” You sit on the plush cushions of the loveseat and beckon for him to join you, which he hesitantly agrees to.

He was trembling from an uneasy feeling in every part of his body, hastily and repeatedly rubbing his palms against his khaki pants. His breathing was shaky, but you could tell he was trying to maintain control over it.

“He called us into the living room today, to ‘talk,’ he said. And when we all sat down, he just told us he didn’t feel like we listened to him. Something about not feeling important and how we talk over him. He said he didn’t really know what to do about it, but that he wanted us to know. I don’t know, it’s just a lot, and I feel bad…so fucking bad, Y/N. I never wanted him to feel that way, I didn’t even know he was. Do we really do that to him?” He had started his rambling by waving his hands wildly as he spoke, but he was desperately looking to you for an answer by the end.

You knew exactly what image you’d see if you moved to look at him right now, so you decide against it. You could hear how his tears were forming the longer he spoke, the despair growing each second.

“Josh, I know you don’t mean to,” you started, careful not to upset him further. “...but yeah, sometimes you guys do that to him. He’ll try to talk, and he just gets dismissed or ignored. It happened a lot the last time I came with you to the studio.”

“Is that why you haven’t been coming back with us?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. That was exactly the reason, but you knew it would send Josh into hysterics.

He took your silence as admission, whispering under his shaky breath. “Fuck…it’s that bad, huh.”

“I know it seems like everything is falling apart because of this, but I know he didn’t tell you guys all of this because he was upset with you.” You reach for him slowly, making sure he was okay with the physical contact before actually grabbing his hand into yours. “He’s looking to fix it, not berate you guys for letting it happen. You shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, I promise.”

He noticeably relaxes both at your gesture and reassuring words. His voice and body is less shaky, and he doesn’t seem as fragile as he had been when he first came into your apartment. “How can we fix it? I don’t want him to ever feel this way again.”

“Well, that’s really a question for him, don’t you think?”

Josh sighs helplessly. “Yeah, it is.”

You continue, much more relieved at his change in demeanor, “…but you could first start by including him more in things and actually talking to him more often.”

“He’s not really been around much, though. He purposely goes to other rooms to get away from us, and when he is with us, he’s always on his phone. I even asked him if he wanted to have a guys’ night tonight, but I forgot he had some date tonight or something-“

“What?” The ghost of the word leaves your lips in the form of a whisper before you could stop it. This was not the time or place for your childish worries, but you barely even realized you had reacted to the statement.

“He asked me earlier this week to help him plan a date with some girl he’s been talking to for a bit. God I should’ve at least remembered that before asking…that makes it worse-“ he stops mid sentence when he finally sees your face.

You were staring at the floor, looking at every detail in the patterned rug below you, yet also at nothing at all. Your lips were slightly parted, and your mouth was running dry. The hand that was holding onto Josh’s seemed to have a mind of its own as it slowly pulled away and out of his grasp.

Josh now seemed to be the one desperate to comfort you. From many drunken night confessions of the past, he knew all of the feelings you had previously when your friendship with Danny first started. He just wasn’t aware of how fresh those feelings still were. “He…he didn’t tell you?”

All you can manage is shaking your head.

“Geez, I’m sorry, Bip...”

If only he knew how much you didn’t want to hear that nickname right now.

“I…thought he told you by now. I figured you knew more than all of us. He hasn’t even told us her name, just mentioned how he really liked her and wanted to ask her out, and-“ he stopped himself again. “I’m making it worse, okay, hold on.”

Tears were quickly forming in your eyes as he grabbed both of your hands together into one of his, with his other on top of it. He tried to get you to participate in a breathing exercise to help your pains, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than Danny.

Everything started to make sense to you. It had been why he kept rejecting you every time you wanted to come see him. He was seeing someone, or he was about to be, at least, and he didn’t want you to know. You couldn’t stop mentally repeating that fact to yourself.

He was seeing someone.

You felt silly, stupid even. You had fallen for your best friend when you knew that’s all he’d be. If you couldn’t be bold enough to make the move, why did you expect him to be more than that?

He was seeing someone.

All the while, Josh was saying…what was he saying? Your senses had started to get cloudy and you found it hard to hear him clearly. What felt like the early stages of a panic attack started to make themselves much more apparent to you. White spots were infiltrating your vision. Cold sweat was forming above your brow. Your throat had gone completely dry. You were swaying, and everything seemed to be going much too fast.

Josh moved closer to you and wiped tears that you didn’t know had started to roll.

“I’m sorry.” You kept repeating the phrase. Embarrassed by your reaction, and guilty for turning the attention on to yourself. He had come to you for advice and comfort, and all of that changed with something Josh didn’t even really mean to bring up.

Danny - your Danny - was seeing someone.

“No, stop that, you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. Come on, let me help you,” his words seemed to mold together into one sentence. You weren’t sure if that was due to his worrying or if your emotional state cause you to mishear him. You could make out a definite “Watch me” come from him, though, so you locked your eyes with him and he put his hands on your cheeks to hold the gaze.

You saw him take an exaggerated breath in and out, and you assumed he wanted you to do the same.

You made your best attempts.

After just a few breaths, you felt the panic start to subside, but your symptoms were still extremely prevalent. Your heart was the only thing that had noticeably slowed, but it still ached. Now, you just felt tired. The suppressed sounds around you mixed with your impaired vision made you feel more annoyed with and irritated at yourself.

Josh had said something again and tapped your knee before standing. You told yourself that he wasn’t leaving - he couldn’t be - especially in the middle of a time like this, but you felt too exhausted to ask where he was going. You doubted you’d be able to hear him anyway. Once he walked away, you let yourself curl into the corner of the couch for comfort, closing your eyes and resting your head.

Moments passed, and the remnants of your previous state had died down tremendously. You kept your eyes closed as you focused on your breathing. You were starting to wonder what Josh was doing since he had been gone so long, but you soon heard the indistinct sound of your front door opening and closing.

>>>partV

thank you for everything <3

taglist (click here to join!): @gretavanflowerpower @joshkiszkas @teenagesublimefan @streamsofstardust @fireandsaltydogs @gretavanflipflop @kdarling1 @greta-van-chaos @stardustingold @the-chaotic-cow @tripthelight-fanfic @gretavanfleas @loofypoofy @hippievanfleet @doodle417 @gmolszewski @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @hearts-hunger @s0livagant

lemme know if i missed you in the tags or if you want to be removed!

#chamomile #danny x bip #gvf #greta van fleet #gretavanfleet #danny wagner #danny gvf #josh gvf #josh kiszka #peaceful army #jake gvf #the peaceful army #danny wagner fanfiction #danny wagner fluff #danny wagner x y/n #danny wagner x reader #sammy kiszka #sammy gvf #sam gvf

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butterbeerblurbs · 3 years

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[29] kiss and kill

50 kisses with fred weasley / tag: 50kisseswithfred 🌼 29_staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force. [requested with spy!fred x spy!reader] - code names: 78 = fred / 15 = reader / 87 = george 🥴

“you’ve got fifteen. get ready and head in. invites should be in 78′s pocket. good luck.”

fred snorts, shaking his head as he effortlessly removes his bloodied shirt, reaching for a towel to wipe off the blood being tossed at his way. he grins and mutters a soft thank you, darlin’ before continuing his train of thought, voicing it out, “as if we need the luck, does the bloke forget we never failed a mission?”

you chuckle, easily zipping yourself up and move to the mirror, easily sliding past fred to get to where you want. it’s not like you can do anything to remotely fix how you looked but it doesn’t hurt to see what you had to work with. you tried to adjust your hair and wipe off any excess smudged makeup, almost forgetting to reply him, “well, a little luck couldn’t hurt,”

“he talks to us as if we’re–”fred’s words get stuck in his throat when he takes in your appearance. a simple red, sweetheart strapless bodice that hugs you top along with an a-line bottom that flows down, floating just by your ankles to reveal your stilettos that just works. he whistles lowly and tosses the towel aside, hands already smoothening around your waist from the back as he presses his tuxedo-clad body against yours, “my, my, just my luck.”

you chuckle upon hearing that tone along with catching the mischief in his eyes that sparkles over your shoulder through the mirror. your ears take in the soft bip as fred expertly switches off your earpieces. your body moves on their own accord, spinning around in his grasp and slithering your hands over his chest to reach up his shoulders. he groans when you run your fingers through his hair, then proceed to fix them. as you do this, he leans in awfully close that you can count the strands of hair falling between his eyes but all he can focus on is the way your lips look astoundingly kissable that he just has to - and you have to - kiss.

you find yourself reeled in, meeting his lips halfway and it feels like the world momentarily disappears. all responsibilities be damned as fred grips onto your waist tight, half-pushing you against the counter behind you, groaning when your arms wrap around his neck and tug him closer. his hands ghost lower, brushing your outer thigh, loving the feel of silk that greets his flesh along with the warmth of you. he gladly swallows your sighs and is about to push his luck for more but the sharp zing! that breaks the kiss soon makes you stifle a giggle when george’s voice comes back ringing.

“both of you are disgusting. just before a mission, really?”

“not my fault 15′s this good looking,” fred nonchalantly shrugs, momentarily ignoring george’s reprimanding as he continues rambling on about how if you two mess things up, it’ll be on both your asses and more.

“and now you’ve got whatever lipstick i had left all on you,” your voice is soft, but fred picks up all the syllables of your words, tenderly leaning into your touch as you brush his lips with your thumb to rid of the lipstick stains. "as if you ever had a problem with marking your targets,” he smirks, returning the favor to clean up the smudges of lipstick by the corners of your lips. it’s another moment left to be savoured for later when george pumps up the volume and makes sure the both of you listen.

“78, 15, i swear if you pull another dirty trick before this mission i will make sure the two of you end up in the isolation ward for days before you get out. now get a move on, target’s approaching the hall,”

later, fred mouths, almost as a promise as he winks at you.

“don’t drag me into this,” you press a kiss to fred’s cheek lightly, then you step away to make sure you have everything you need before the two of you step out of the confined hotel bathroom, “it’s all 78′s doing,”

“ridiculous,” fred catches up with you as the two of you leave the room, arm in arm as you strut towards the location of where your target was, “if you saw how 15 looks like right now, you’d do the same.”

#50kisseswithfred #50kisses #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fanfiction #hp fanfics #hp fanfiction #hp scenarios #harry potter fanfics #harry potter #harry potter stories #harry potter scenarios #spy!fred #spy!reader #:")

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acklesterritory · 3 years

Text

That Kind of Love Never Dies_Chapter 3(final)

Hey guys; as what most of you wanted. here is the final chapter of my fic for #allyswrittingevent @tvdspngirl314

Hope you like it. Thanks to @firefly-graphics for the dividers

Dean x Reader series (final chapters(3))

This chapter words ~9.1k

Series Warning: fluff, Angst, hurt reader, hurt Dean, smut? There is some more but I don't like spoilers so I insist on ANGST & HURT

READ CHAPTER 1 HERE

READ CHAPTER 2 HERE

From hell to heaven, he had seen things enough. At least he thought he had. But life is always full of surprises. Like an intense bright light that could freak him out.

"No." He tried to say, he shook his head but it didn't stop. The light was penetrating his brain.

"Mr. Winchester." He heard before he fell deep into darkness, getting lost …

Next time the light was not intense. It actually felt pleasant and soft against his closed eyelids.

"Hey, you hear me?" Someone said while a bipping noise started to annoy him.

*What the fuck is that noise?*

He wanted to figure it out but he was too tired to concentrate. For now he decided that he needed to rest. Again.

Burning. Like a hell. Or a furnace.

"Dean?" Someone called. So he had to fight to open his eyes.

"Oh my God." Another voice rambled in excitement. But he couldn't see anything. Even with opened eyes, his vision was too damn bluried.

"Mr. Winchester?" Now another one was slightly shaking his arm, pulling him out of the darkness. "Mr. Winchester, do you hear me?"

Well, he tried but nothing came out of his throat more than a groan.

"It's ok. Take it easy." The voice said in a calm tone. And he had to blink several times to clear his vision.

But what he saw was a complete disappointment. A true disaster. It seemed like he was on a hospital bed while a middle age black man in scrubs had a bp cuff around his arm.

"Welcome back, sir." He gave him a smile. Then Dean noticed a gentle squeeze on his shin. Sam was smiling too, standing behind the medic.

*No!*

Dean squeezed his eyes shut in horror, knowing what that meant. They couldn't save her. Cause he was still alive.

"Dean?" A much missed voice from the opposite side called.

"Open your eyes." She demanded.

"Y/n." He tried to say as soon as he saw her but it came out like a whine.

*Sorry, sweetheart.*

He wished he could say, looking up at her who seemed much more healthier. And even happy? With a new hair style? And … a flat belly?

As she was wearing a white crop top, it wasn't hard to recognise that flat belly but he couldn't stop his hand from reaching out and touching her soft skin on the back of his fingers.

"Don't worry. She's ok." Y/n smiled and it felt so genuine. So he could tell it was just a hallucination. She couldn't look like this if they could've saved her. He shut his eyes in understanding.

*I had let her down. Again.*

Just like that, everything came crashing down. And something was hurting in his chest.

"Mr Winchester!" The black med called. This time not in a calm tone. Not at all.

"Dean!" Now it was Sammy.

He wondered why everyone was trying to ruin his concentration when he was trying to deal with this sudden hyperventilation.

"Dean, calm down." But the damn dizziness wouldn't let Dean to find out where he was.

"It's ok. Just try to relax. We got you." He vaguely saw the black man again, trying to put an oxygen mask on his mouth. As he did, once again Dean drifted off.

"… who knows? He seemed totally alright before that." This time he woke up like a normal human being, because of an annoying voice which belonged to a definitely too-talkative person for him to handle.

"You're awake, son?" A new voice drew his attention and he opened his eyes.

At least his vision were perfectly fine. He noticed it as he took his surrounding.

He was still on a hospital bed, naked under an oversize gown with an oxygen mask on. While the black medic was still standing next to his bed, this time busy doing something with his IV.

And on the other side of his bed, an old white man with a goatee beard was standing. Judging by his white coat and that stethoscope hanging around his neck, Dean could tell he was a doctor.

*Yeah, there is a tag name too* He reminded himself, narrowing his eyes to read the small words.

"I'm doctor Jo Lister. And this is Chris Warren. Our intense care unit expert." The man introduced as soon as he noticed Dean's curios look.

"Hey, Sir. You better?" Chris asked, but his eyes were focused on the shot he was preparing to inject into his IV.

"I assume you can guess where you are now. Right?" The doctor asked.

*I wish I didn't*

But as he couldn't say anything with that sore and utterly dry throat, he just blinked "Yes".

"Good. Just to be clear it's a "down unit" right next to ICU. Meaning we got anything you need and we can help whenever you're in need. I don't want you to be worried about anything. Ok?"

*What about Y/n?* he sighed, once again nodding yes. Essentially there was nothing left for him to fight for but who cared?

"Ok, now. I'm gonna listen to your heart and lungs till Chris is done with some drug injection to your system. And then we'll see if you're ready or not?"

*Ready for what?* Again he would ask and again he could just nod. They stripped his upper body down which should be easy as he was in one piece single layer hospital gown but even that simple task had him breathless.

*What the fuck?*

"Ok, son. Now I need you to take some deep breaths. Don't rush it." Doc said as he started to listen to his heart, putting his stethoscope on his chest.

Feeling a little light headed, Dean kept breathing the way Dr. Lister demanded.

"Sounds good for now." Eventually the doc said, nodding in approvement. Then they exchanged a look with Chris that Dean couldn't get its meaning.

"Son ..." The old man took a deep breath as he hung his stethoscope around his neck again. " … even if I'm not sure you can handle this conversation now, but I have to insist. We don't need you to freak out. Last time when everything seemed back to normal, you almost got yourself killed by the way you panicked and you put your poor organs in agony when they'd just started to work perfectly … we don't need that to happen again. We don't need any other panic. Ok?"

*Why would I? Why should I even care?* Another understanding nod from him and another suspicious look was exchanged between them.

"Look. When they brought you here you had this serious injury in your chest and you'd already lost so much blood, developing a shock which finally caused a cardiac arrest. Luckily somehow we managed to get you back. But unfortunately we couldn't stop you from falling into a coma."

"WHAT?!!" This time Dean tried his best to utter that word but instead he started to cough as his air way was suddenly cut by the instant reaction.

"I told you not to panic!" The doctor said, putting his hand on Dean's mask, preventing him from tearing it away. "Hurry Chris, help him to sit up." He commended as the coughs got worse.

"Here man. Let me help." With Chris's support, he finally managed to sit up. Now taking deep breaths into the mask. Like he had run a marathon!

"You're good?" The black man asked, seconds after his breaths became normal. Dean nodded in a "yes". And before the med could withdraw, he took off the pen out of Chris's chest pocket.

"You need anything?" The doctor asked as Dean slowely wrote something in his palm.

*How could holding a pen be this exhausting?* He thought, raising his palm so they both could see the word.

"Water"

Doctor tilted his head, giving Chris (who was staring at him in question) a reassuring nod: "Of course."

Dean coughed one more time, writing down another thing as Chris went to bring some water.

"What else?" The old man asked, curious about his patient's needs when it took him a little more to write. When Dean was done, it was supposed to be "How long I was in coma?" But it looked more like he'd scrawled some meaningless lines in his palm.

Doctor sighed, running a hand down his beard. Already guessing Dean's questions: "You've been in coma for nearly five months. It's normal that your motor skills won't work the way they used to be. You also may experience some memory loss or confusion or even hallucinations. But as much as I can tell by your MRI results, none of them is permanent. Hopefully you just have to let your brain and muscles get used to normal life again."

*5 months?* The words kept repeating in his mind, like a bad scene of a bad movie.

*I was out for 5 months and now I can't even walk? Or write? Or even talk? Where is Sam by the way? What about Cas? What the fuck they've done to bring me back?*

He had at least one hundred questions while a million thoughts were running crazy in his head.

Two days passed. And Dr. Lister was finally convinced that Dean could manage without having to take heavy medicine under intense medical care. Dean was feeling much better too. However it was only physically. Even if he still had to drink water with a stupid straw (because of having a sore throat as an after effect of using NG tube during his coma) now at least he could talk. Plus he had heard from Chris that Sam and Cas were constantly trying to meet him but Lister had told them to be patient till they transfer him to the general ward. So Dean knew they were fine and that made him feel a bit less guiltier. However it couldn't change the fact that Y/n was gone and he had lost his whole new family , including his kids.

"Is it ok now?"

Looking up at Chris's bright smile, who already had a wheelchair ready for him, Dean curled his lips in a fake smile. What could he say? That he hated that wheelchair and this room and everything about this hospital and his life in general?

*Nope* He knew he couldn't so at least he thanked Chris for not making him use a stretcher as they were transferring him to the general ward.

"You're welcome. Let's take you to your family. They're super excited."

Well, they were. Sam, Cas, Jodie and Clair. Apparently there were some more people who wanted to be there too but because of hospital rules he couldn't have more visitors. But it didn't seem like he cared. He was already heartbroken. Cause except what his rational self was insisting, he still got this little hope in his heart about her … about that memory of Y/n standing right next to his bed, in a crop top and a new hair style. But now he was sure this image couldn't be anything more than a hallucination. Specially after Sam and Cas never mentioned her in front of him. Probably to avoid any harm to his feelings.

"Next time, don't finish your meal and watch how I kick your ass!" Jodie challenged him, holding the full spoon in the air in front of his lips.

Dean gave her a smile. Well, at least something like that.

"You heard me, Dean Winchester?"

"I can … eat my food … by myself." He replied, with his still hoarse voice.

Jodie rolled her eyes at him:

"I know. But for now you're slow. So it takes longer for you to finish it, causing the food to get cold and you to drop it."

"Sorry." Another fake smile and her heart cracked in her chest. Dean looked miserable with that untrimmed beard and his wild long hair. (Cause what kind of ICU would offer hair dressing to its patients?) He also had lost so much weight. Dull eyes looked a bit larger in his lean face while his lips were faded against his extra pale skin. Jodie had never seen him like that.

"Don't forget to drink your water." She warned in a serious tone, and then ran away from that heart breaking sight. Dean didn't need to see her tears.

"Jodie?" Sam called her from behind, right as she managed to wipe her tears in the corridor before anyone could notice.

"Yes, Sam?" She turned around to greet him with a fake smile. Apparently Dean's mood was contagious.

"Jodie, I need your help." With that obvious frown on his face, Sam seemed nervous. So she couldn't help her question:

"With what?"

"Look." Sam put his phone in her hands, with a text under a photo on the screen.

"No." She shook her head in disagreement. "No, Sam. This is not a good idea. I don't think he can handle that right now."

"I know." His sad look stared down at the phone. "I know Jodie. I told that to Charlie too but she said she can't do anything about it. As you see she's already on her plan. If I believed this works with Dean, I would help them but you have seen him. He's totally off. And already lost. Plus Lister told me we shouldn't rush or push anything. He needs time to catch a grip and … honestly Jodie, I can't risk anything about him anymore. We just got him back."

Sam could be the second most badass professional hunter on the planet, but sometimes he turned to a giant teddy bear with a pair of puppy eyes too.

Jodie sighed, wondering if Winchesters ever got to live a normal life? At least for a few days? To her it seemed impossible.

"I understand. Don't worry. I'll deal with this. You just go and take care of your brother. Okay?"

Sam tried a smile: "Thanks Jodie." There was a hint of Dean in that sad look.

"No problem." She said, patting him on the face, making him feel the motherly love she always carried for them in her heart. In return, Sam wrapped his long arms around her in a needed hug.

When Chris entered the room, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, long legs impatiently dangling in the air while he had his own regular clothes back on. Which now looked much more loosened on his skinny figure.

Chris pushed the wheelchair (that he was carrying) forward, as he noticed Cas was standing motionless in a corner of the room and then saw Sam, squatting down in front of Dean, busy with his brother's boots.

"So everyone is ready to leave?" He asked, getting everyone's attention.

"What's that for?" Dean groaned, staring down at the wheelchair.

"Hospital protocols." Chris briefly replied, a smile on his lips. "Or in your language: house rules." Cas smirked, exchanging a look with Chris. That's when Dean noticed that shinning blue light in Chris's orbs.

"He's an angel?!" He asked Cas, looking totally annoyed.

His angel shrugged: "Of course he is."

"What? …"

"You didn't really expect us to leave your ass alone where any supernatural being could get in and finish your life in a heartbeat , Did you?" Sam cut him, looking up with his raised brows.

Dean blew his exhale to calm his nerves, shaking his head like he knew better.

"So what did you gave up to heaven to bring me back?"

"Nothing." Cas stated with such an incisive tone. "My brother here accepted to do that because he wanted to help us …"

"Yes, I did it to make up the wrong things I had done in the past. I realized Castiel was always right about heaven and God." Chris finished Cas's sentence. And Cas gave him a pat on his shoulder.

Dean narrowed his eyes at them.

"You really think that I'm gonna believe that?"

"Why not? Dean, you told us not to do anything stupid to bring you back. So we didn't. Now are you gonna be pissed just because we did as your wish?"

*No, I'm bothered by the things that you didn't do. Like saving Y/n!* he would say but he fell silent. It was useless. Nothing could bring her back anymore. She was gone.

As he was lost in his thoughts, Sam helped him to put his boots on.

"I can get him a pair of sleepers too if you need. I think they can be more comfy." Chris suggested as Dean seemed upset by Sam helping him to put his boots on, but Dean gave him a hard glare.

"It's ok. We're already done." Sam said, standing up. He squeezed Dean's knee before Chris could take his place.

"Ok sir. Now as our hospital's discharge process I want to talk about your next treatment step which includes some medicine, a constant physical therapy and …"

As Chris was talking, Cas whispered to Sam . "You know? I could teleport him home. It could be much less complicated."

"I know, Cas. But I thought I take him for a ride with Baby. Maybe that can bust his mood."

"It's a good idea, Sam. I hope it works."

But it didn't. At least not as much as Sam or Cas hoped.

When they arrived home, Dean seemed tired even if Sam cut the ride short and didn't force him to listen to his used-to-be favorite music against his desire. It was like he had no interest in anything that he used to love.

"Here we are. Welcome home, Jerk." Sam said playfully as he stopped the car in front of their beloved bunker.

Dean curved his lips in a so-called smile.

"Thank you." And he slightly turned in his seat to give Cas (Who was on the back seat) "Thank both of you … for everything."

In return, Cas gave him a genuine warm smile.

"Dean, there's no need for that. We are happy that you're back." But Sam couldn't even fake one. Cause Dean's reaction was actually freaking him out. If Dean was the normal Dean, he would say something like: "I know, bitch!" But now it seemed like a dream.

As Sam was occupied in his head, Cas decided to help Dean downstairs. After all a short teleport like this couldn't hurt anyone.

But as soon as they appeared in Dean's room, he clutched at his trench coat.

"Cass…" He groaned, feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. She was there again. In front of his eyes. So vivid and so alive that if he wanted to ignore her, he knew he'll fail.

Still he tried, blinking several times, rubbing his eyes … but nothing could stop the nullification.

Y/n was there. Standing in front of his desk with that exact new hairstyle and in a totally unfamiliar clothes: A pretty middle-thigh sun dress and a pair of white sneakers. The worse part was her eyes, already wet like she was waiting to meet him again for days!

*God damn hell! Why did I survive* He angrily thought to himself but Just as he opened his mouth to tell Cas that he was hallucinating, both of them spoke:

"Hello Y/n."

"Dee?!"

She took a step toward him but Cas shook his head in a "No."

*What the hell? Could he also see her?*

"You see her?" He couldn't help his question. Cas looked at him like he was considering if Dean had lost his mind or not. But when he came to a conclusion, he decided to reply: "Of course, Dean. Why wouldn't I?"

"I mean … she's really here? I'm not hallucinating?" He finally managed to ask, gulping in excitement.

*WHAT KIND OF QUESTION WAS THAT?*

"Yes, she is. And no, you're not."

"Holy shit!" As the room started spinning, he had to clutch at Cas's free arm, to prevent himself from falling.

"Dean!" She almost screamed but the vertigo was too bad that he couldn't concentrate on anything else but keeping his own balance.

"It's ok. The bed is right here. Let me help you sit." Cas reassured him.

"I'm bringing some water." Y/n's voice rang in his ears.

*No, stay!*

He would beg but nothing came out of his chest but a deep groan.

"It's ok, Dean. I got you." Cas rubbed softly on the root of his neck. And he had to take some deep breath to manage the hyperventilation and his excitement. He had so much to talk about with her. He had a million questions too.

*Where were You, Y/n? Why you didn't come to see me by now? Why it took you so long to show up? Why they didn't tell me about you? Was it your plan to surprise me? What have I missed all these days? What happened to our baby? Are you ok, sweetheart? Did someone hurt you when I was out?*

"Here, Dean. Let me help you." Her soft voice made him feel comfortable again. Like he was really home now. So when she put one of her hands on the back of his head to bring the waterglass against his lips, he just quit fighting and closed his eyes. To let the cool water pour in his throat and wash over all his distress for their seperation. Cause he didn't need or want anyone's care but her.

"Keep going, babe. Finish the whole glass." Y/n encouraged softly, watching her lover's eager and thirsty lips fighting to get more liquid in his system as she sat next to him.

"Oh, God." She moaned when he was done, hiding her head in the crook of his neck. And that was the moment a clinking sound drew his attention as he opened his eyes.

She was wearing a wedding ring!

Dean almost chocked on his own tongue.

*So that's the reason? That's why she never tried to come and see me in the hospital? Cause she's married?*

"You have no idea how much I missed you." She confessed, nuzzling her nose on his skin.

*Who could it be? That bartender freak? What was his name? Gordon? Gabe? Gil? ...*

"I almost believed that I can't see you again." She whimpered and put the empty glass aside, making that damn clinking sound again.

*And that's the reason, sweetheart? That's why you decided to forget about me? Because you got married? Do you have a happy life now? A life that you always wanted and I never could provide for you?*

She was happy. She should be. Why not? Dean had never seen her with a smile as big as that before or in such a girlish style, the way most of the girls like: soft, sunny and happy. She never looked like that around him. Did she?

"I love you, Dee."

*But you used to be all happy and smiley around him? Right?*

It was such an honest confession that it nearly broke his heart. Nearly … because he had no heart anymore. That beautiful living gift full of desire and motivation was dead for him. Now there was nothing left in his chest but a stupid pumping machine.

He shut his eyes when her lips found his jaw to kiss, one hand tangled in his long hair, the other was on his chest but all he could feel was the coldness of the metal ring against his heart, even beneath all those layers. Cause she was not his. Not anymore. Now she belonged to …

*Gary. That's his name. Right?*

Dean didn't move. He was torn between the need to push her away and the desire to pull her even closer. But the fight between what his mind was saying and what the heart wanted , left his body motionless and stiff, in alert.

"Dean?" Finally the woman sensed it. He not only didn't look the same, but also his behaviour was different too. It seemed like he was afraid of her!

"Dean, what's wrong?" She asked. Her head snapped up to look at his eyes but … he stole his look.

"Look at me, baby. What happened?" She tried, holding his neck with her both hands, brushing his beardy cheeks on her thumbs.

Dean gulped, trembling with his silent war against that huge rush of emotions.

"Dean, it's me! Look at me, baby. Please." But even the vibration in her voice couldn't fight the reality.

*I can't sweetheart. I do no good to you. Never did. Never can. Let alone when you're married.*

"Y/n! What are you doing here?" Sam appeared from no where, eyes wide by surprise.

"Sam …" She turned around to look at him, tears already casting down on her face like a river.

"I've told you, Y/n. I've told you to not do this. Right?" Sam shook his head like he was sorry and sad, just as much as her.

"Sam …" As soon as Cas (Who was waiting all this time in a corner to give them some private space) opened his mouth to say anything, in a sudden reaction Y/n stormed out of the room. Her sobbing voice resonated in the cold bunker.

Sam exhaled loudly and rubbed his eyes. Then he tilted his head to Cas so he could be alone with his brother.

"Dean …" As soon as he started to say, Dean shook his head violently.

"I had enough, Sammy. I don't wanna talk about it."

Sam bit on his lower lip, nodding in understanding as Dean turned around to hide his wet eyes from him.

Y/n was sitting on a bench in a middle of a park when Cas found her. She was all alone while she was staring at some kids play ground that were all empty and quit in that hour of the day.

Cas silently sat beside her, looking at her hands on her lap. She was nervously playing with her ring.

"Why are you here, Y/n? Everyone is looking for you." Cas asked in his soft calm voice.

She shook her head, fighting a good fight with her burning tears. Cas gave her a while to get herself together but as time passed, she was getting red on the tip of her ears and also her nose.

Cas took her delicate fingers in his hand, making her eventually look at him.

"I just don't know where should I go. Dean used to be my home. But now … I feel homeless." Her voice broke in her last words and the tears wet her cheeks.

Cas squeezed her fingers

sympathetically.

"You should believe that he's still the same."

"How?" She almost cry in reply. "You were there, Cas. He got afraid of me, looking at me like I'm no one but just a random stranger. Like he never had seen me in his whole life. You were there, right? You saw him with your eyes … he really doesn't remember me." This time she broke in sobs and Cas had to hug her to comfort.

"Yes, maybe for now he can't remember you. But that doesn't mean he'll never do that in the future either." Cas was always honest. Even when things were too hurtful to take, he would never sugarcoat them. Y/n had figured it out a long time ago. It was like it was in his nature. So when he said that, it somehow made her feel a little better. However there is still a possibility of his opinion being totally wrong.

"But you can't tell that for sure. What if it's permanent? What if he'll never remember me?" She questioned, clutching at the angel's shoulder to slightly back off and see his face in wonder and concern.

"Well, you heard Sam. His doctor doesn't think the same." His sincere and hopeful smile, did even a better job. She sighed and hugged him back.

"I just feel so lost without him." She confessed, not knowing why she suddenly felt like she would share her emotions. Maybe she couldn't handle this weight in her heart all alone.

"I know. That's why you shouldn't give up, Y/n."

She tried to smile, wiping her tears.

"Now can we go to Jodie's? She and Charlie, Alex and Claire … and Sam. Everyone is so worried about You.

She nodded again, this time looking a little sadder.

"I don't even know how I came here. I was so devastated. I even forgot to feed Sandra."

"Y/n …"

"I just want to come back home." Cas tightened his arms around her, wishing he could tell her that she will be back soon but as Y/n silently was crying in his embrace, he thought about the fact that no one knew when Dean could remember everything.

Two weeks later:

Sam dried his sweaty neck his towel , getting into the kitchen in his sport tank top and shorts. Catching a look of his brother who was sitting at table only in his dead guy robe and his hotdog pants. It made Sam smile. It was nice to see his brother alive and comfortable and also back with his classic short hair style and clean shaved face.

"Good morning." He said, an obvious alacrity in his voice.

"Good morning." Dean replied in a low voice, eyes staring down at his coffee mug. He looked ... off.

Sam sighed, opening the fridge door to grab the orange juice jar.

"You want some?" He asked, having an eye on his brother.

"No, thank you."

"What about this?" Sam asked playfully, putting a big portion of cherry pie on the table, in front of his brother.

"You're welcome and I agree with you. That's truly awesome. You should give it a try." Sam tried to move on. Dean already had enough issues to handle. It wasn't right to push further on him.

Dean's gaze caught the sight of the desert. "That's so cool, man. Thanks." He cracked a smile but when he looked up, Sam knew it was just a cover to hide his reluctance. Dean must had lost his appetite somewhere during his coma.

"So what's your plan for today?" Asking That, Sam poured a glass of orange juice for himself.

"I don't know. Resting in bed, watching crappy day time TV, going to hospital for physical therapy. Same old shit as the last two weeks."

Well, at least his grumpy face was the same. However this time Sam didn't protest. He already knew it had no effect on his brother's opinion so he decided to keep his mouth shut, maybe Dean would eat more before he fell into another Coma!

But somehow late in the afternoon he did! They were just back from the physical therapy at the hospital which unlike the previous days Dean didn't complain about. He was somehow quiet the whole day and that was freaking Sam out. But he managed to put his concern under control till a couple of minutes after, when he was done with helping out Dean with showering. Then he went to make some coffee in the kitchen but when he came back, he found Dean on the floor, near his bed.

"Dean!" He shouted, raising his brother in his arms. Unlike what he expected Dean was not completely out. Actually he was mumbling unclear words, burning in fever.

"How is he doing? What's wrong?"

27 minutes later, in Dean's room, Sam lost his patience. Locking his arms on his chest, his look shifted between Dr. Lister and Cas. One all busy with examining Dean, the other standing patiently in the end of Dean's bed.

"Sam, calm down. Let him do his job." Cas suggested, his hands buried in his trench coat pockets.

Sam took a deep breath, deciding to watch his brother while the doctor was doing his thing.

Dean looked exhausted. He was laid in the bed in just his boxer as Lister said they needed to take his fever under control which seemed too high. So they put a wet washcloth against his forehead. However his cheeks were still flashed, his hair still damp from his recent shower while his eyes were half open. But it sounded like he wasn't aware of his surroundings.

"Daaad." He whined for the severalth times in his fever dream, making Sam feel nervous by whatever the nightmare he was stuck in.

"It's ok, son. I'll be done in a minute." Lister tried to calm him, then he slightly raised Dean's arm off the bed, trying to take his wriste pulse, while he put the stethoscope on his chest with the other one, listening carefully to his heart with a frown on his face.

Dean shivered, groaning.

"I'm … sssorry."

"Sam" Cas said as he saw him run down a hand on his face. But before he could continue, Lister took off his steth and stood up.

Someone took a shaky breath and Cas found out that was Sam couldn't stand watching his brother like this. For him It was already traumatizing to know that John was back in Dean's dreams to put his only brother through more pain.

"I see nothing is wrong with his organs' health. Everything seems normal."

"What?" Sam's knitted his brows. "You call this normal?" He retorted in frustration, pointing at his brother. "Can't you see him? It's so obvious that something is wrong with him."

Seeing Sam's anger, Cas decided to stand closer to him even if it didn't look like Lister was impressed. He looked actually calm.

"I wish you paid more attention to what I said. I didn't say nothing is wrong with him. I said as much as I see, nothing is wrong with his health, physically." When doctor emphasized on his last word, Sam exchanged a puzzled look with Cas.

"And what does that mean?" Cas asked instead of Sam, wondering where this conversation was going.

"I mean … was he suffering from an emotional event? Did you ever notice he doesn't show any interests in things he used to like before? Did you ever catch him staring at walls for no reason? Or did you ever feel like he doesn't eat enough food?"

For a few seconds a silence fell on them when realization hit both of the men.

"What if the answers to all of those questions is yes?" Sam asked, biting on his lip.

"That means as what I expected, he's having a psychogenic fever. Which also is a good sign of a mental issue like chronic stress or depression."

In a synced reaction Sam and Cas looked at each other.

"And how exactly can we help him?"

"I'm not a psychotherapist, son. I think it would be better for him if you ask for one's help. But it's not a surprise for a patient who survived from a long time coma to face with such a complication. Most of the times it's so difficult for a patient to deal with the consequences of that incident. Some of them lose their jobs, some of them lose their memories or even their loved ones. The only thing that I can recommend … I mean beside a professional help, is to make him feel the joy of life."

The joy of life … It was such a simple phrase but a really hard one to have. What was the joy of Dean's life?

Sam thought about it even when Lister talked about how they didn't need any prescription to reduce his fever. He predicted hopefully Dean's fever would be gone till the morning on it's own. And what he needed most is to have a healthy diet and solve his mental issues.

So as soon as the doctor left, he grabbed his phone, dialing Y/n, eyes still on his brother's vulnerable figure.

"Sam?!" She picked up sooner than what he expected.

"Y/n, I think it's time. We should give it a shot."

He was not that young anymore but still he was in a rush, on the same staircase, running through the fire, hearing Mom's screams over the crackle of wild flames.

"Moooom!" He shouted, coughing when the smoke filled his lungs.

"Dean! Take your daughter outside as fast as you can. And don't look back!" John yelped, however Dean couldn't see him. He couldn't even find the way out. Everything was burning.

"What daughter?!" He shouted back, searching everywhere with his alarmed eyes to find where he should search for the kid in need. Except no one was there.

"Daaaad!" He tried in fear, feeling like he was again a four years old boy who had no idea how he should save his loved ones.

"Dad, please!"

"You have failed me, Dean. You've failed us all." John said and as soon as Dean looked up, the burning roof crashed on him. And he felt a hit, in his chest …

"Dad?" Even before he could open his eyes, he heard the pounding sound of his own heart. His mouth was dry and even when he darted his tongue out, it couldn't wet his chapped lips the way he hoped to.

*So that was a nightmare?* He took a deep breath to calm himself, wishing that his guess would be right. And right on that moment, something hit his chest again but much weaker than before. He opened his eyes.

At first it was pitch black and his eyes weren't adapted yet. But then he saw it. Just like a dream.

There was a baby in the bed!, right next to his pillow and then … he saw a woman next to them: laying on her side, face to face with him and asleep.

"Y/n?" He murmured in disbelief, rubbing on his eyes. Was it possible to fell in a dream after a horrible nightmare?

The baby voices drew his attention and he looked down in surprise. The baby was awake, in a pink onesie and a pair of strawberry socks. Moving her baby legs and hands in the air, she was staring up at him with wide open and also green eyes. Like … his?

Dean's breath hitched in his throat, watching the baby in awe. She even had some light freckles across her face and her ears … they just looked like Y/n's!

He couldn't help himself from stroking her soft cheeks carefully. To his surprise she reacted with a smile, showing her little pinky gums to him while little dimples appeared on her cheeks. There was a purity to that gaze, love and maybe even something more. He just knew it with the heart that he loved this baby in a whole different way ... and it felt natural. He was just sure if a person dared to harm her, he would defend her with his own life if need be. And that was his truth, right there, in that baby's smile.

"You're mine. Aren't you?" He asked in his deepest voice, with his softest tone.

"Goo-goo!" She coeed like a kitty, and now that his eyes were adjusted to the darkness, he could read the printed letters on her onsie: Of course I'm cute, look at my daddy

He laughed, louder than what he intended. And the ramble of it, woke Y/n up.

"Dean?!" She instantly sat on the bed, looking at him like he was just back from death!

"Are you ok?" Without any hesitation, she climbed on the bed, moving on her knees to reach out to him.

"Dean, are you ok?" She repeated, putting the back of her fingers first on his forehead and then on his cheek.

"Oh, God." When she found out that his temperature was finally back to normal, she took a breath in relief.

"Dee, you scared the hell out of me." She said before claiming his lips, in such a needy and emotional kiss that it broke his heart. This time he didn't pull himself back. Cause even if this was a dream or a hallucination or even a cheating, he needed it. He needed to feel loved.

When they finally broke the kiss, Y/n grabbed him by his bare shoulders, staring at his eyes like she wanted to talk through her owns.

"Is this … real?" Dean dared to ask, bitting on his lip to stop himself from giving it all up to the new rush of emotions.

"Tell me, Y/n." He gulped, voice trembling, tears threatening to fall. "She's my kid. Isn't she?"

He expected a yes or even a no but her reaction was strangely different: "What did you say?"

"What?" He got confused.

"What did you call me?" She looked like she could have a stroke.

"By your name? Y/n?" He asked, wondering what could be wrong with that.

"So you remember me?" She questioned with such a hope and fear that he couldn't ignore it.

"Of course I do. When have I ever forgot about you?" He was even more confused now.

"What?" She frowned in confusion too. "If not … why the last time we met, you acted like that? … Like you've never seen me in your life before?" She questioned, taking her hands back to herself.

Dean blinked, lips parted in surprise. His gaze moved down to catch a glimpse of the wedding ring that she was still wearing.

"Who knows?" He chuckled bitterly. The obvious heartache written all over his face.

"Because of this?" Y/n raised her hand in the air, putting the ring in his eyes level like he would look at that more!!

"Dean …" She called as a tear won over his will and dropped on his cheek. He turned his head to steal his gaze but Y/n grabbed his head between her hands to force his sad eyes to meet hers again.

"Dean this is the ring you ordered for me. Don't you remember?"

"What?" He whispered, blinking in disbelief.

Y/n laughed and put a hand on her mouth while a tear streamed down on her face.

"Let me …" She said before she getting off the bed and turning on the lights. Then she went and grabbed her phone, fingers busy to bring something on the screen that he probably needed to see.

"Look." She said, putting her phone in his hands. It was a photo of that ring in a small fancy box, beside a note. In his hand writing.

*Sweetheart, I don't know if I can ever make it to the day when I can be sure that I deserve to be your man. But if that day comes, I want you to know I bought this ring on our first hunt together, after you commented about that cop lady's ring being both cute and fancy and I figured out I can't lose that chance to buy you the wedding ring you liked and always deserved to wear. I don't know if I can ever propose but when I do, please say yes?*

It took just a second for him to recall that memory: Y/n in a FBI suit, looking like the alpha woman who she always was, her giggle when a cop commented about how Sammy needed a haircut, her longing gaze on the women's hand, her vivid curious whisper on his own ear: *How can a ring be fancy and cute at the same time?*

"I found it accidentally when I was cleaning your room and I thought it's a good idea to wear it as Gary wouldn't stop asking me to take me out for a date. But if you regret it, I can …"

She couldn't finish her sentence as Dean grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to his lap, catching her lips in an even more passionate kiss.

"Too late to take back your *yes*, sweetheart." He said as they parted to look at each other.

"Bad for you, Winchester cause that's never gonna happen." She said, snaking her arms around his neck. Letting his warmth and love melt down her trembling body while she was silently crying in the crook of his neck.

He leaned to take a breath in her hair, letting her scent to fill in his lungs. "Y/n … maybe this is not the right time to ask it but I can't help myself with this question … why you never came to to see me in the hospital?"

"Well …" She smiled between her tears. "… it's on your little monster here. She decided it was the right time to be born just as they told us you're awake and will be in the general ward soon."

"You're kidding!" Dean was astonished.

"Obviously not." Y/n shook her head, pulling herself back to look at their baby who was still beside Dean's pillow, making some happy baby noises.

"Is that right, princess?" Dean stretched out to pull her toward himself, lifting her with just one hand as Y/n was still sitting on his lap.

"You wanted to see daddy too?" Dean cooed, nuzzling his nose against the baby's soft skin on her temple and ear, making her smile again like a piece of pie. Y/n couldn't recall any moment her baby was ever this much amazed and excited. It was like she truly could feel her dad's presence.

"What?" Dean questioned when he noticed her longing look.

She smiled: "It really becomes you … being a dad. It's like you're born to be one."

His heartwarming laugh filled her heart with joy and hope.

"Well I did. Because you didn't even ask about us when you woke up. Were you trying to run away from your new responsibilities, daddy?" Y/n said, a hint of resentment in her voice.

"I bet mommy was waiting too long to call me that. Don't you agree, princess?" He gave his baby a bop on her little nose with his own.

"Never." Dean reassured her, turning his head to stare into her eyes directly. He was all serious now. "I just thought I've lost our only chance to save you. Hell, I still don't know how you survived without that spell. I'm …"

Y/n put her fingers on his lips, just as she felt like he was getting nervous again, probably thinking someone did something stupid to get them back.

"I was not there when they did this but I know everything about it. They collected some blood when you had a cardiac arrest at the hospital. So the spell worked." Her sad smile affected him too, knowing what exactly she was thinking of.

"But as you see, I'm perfectly fine, Y/n."

"Yeah, but what if you couldn't survive? Not to mention even now it will take you months to fully recover." She looked kind of concerned and angry now, tears back in her eyes.

"Well, I survived. And ... admit it, Y/n. It was worth it. I mean … look at us. We have a kid now. Through all the ups and downs, we finally made it to build our family. Don't you feel happy too, sweetheart?"

"I do. Always and just with you." She replied and wiped her tears, tilting her head so he could settle his mouth upon hers. She was drugged by his caress and his words, both equally intoxicating. This kiss was different from all that they had shared before: fluent, more powerful and reassuring. Like a promise or a vow. Like a sign under a marriage certificate. Cause that kind of love never dies.

14 months later:

"No Dean … Gosh. Not there!"

Trying her best to keep the cry low, Y/n hissed on the bed. After days and months of them being apart, vulnerable and busy, now she didn't want to waste any other chance. She was desperate for making love to her man.

"Why not?"

She looked down to catch a glimpse of Dean who lifted his head between her legs, giving her a proud cheeky smile. "I know you like it, Y/n." His warm breath fanned through the words over her bare skin. Still wet by his saliva.

"Can't ... so … close!" She whimpered, clutching at the sheets. Bothered and at same time blessed by the heat that he caused. Just as how the summer sunshine feels, to a sunbather on a beach.

"Don't fight it, sweetheart. I'm taking care of you." His deep voice rambled in the room, through the night; making her weaker, and crazier. Only for him.

"Come for me, Y/n. Let me feel you." He encouraged, nuzzling his nose between her folds, sniffing her scent like a lost pet who just had found his home!

Then he put his eager lips there to suck a kiss out of her clit, squeezing her thighs with his large rough hands.

"Oh, fu‌ … ah, Dean!" His name fell from her lips like a prayer. So he couldn't help his little smile when she had to close her eyes to keep herself in control.

"I know." He murmured, taking a moment to watch her melt down in the dim light.

His eyes tracked down her bare skin that was glistening with sweat on her neck, arms, breasts, belly and her tights while longs beautiful hair locks had covered her pillow. Her lips were still rosy by his kisses and also parted to help her rapid breaths. And if he paid enough attention, he could notice the obvious pulse on her neck while her chest and even her belly were rising and falling in hyperventilation. She was just …

"Gorgeous. You are gorgeous, Y/n." He admitted in a low voice, lifting himself fully on his arms to move on her body, slowly, with confident. Like a predator on his prey!

"But you are wrong if you think I would touch you anywhere else. Unless you come. Right now!" He smirked when she eventually opened her eyes. She was extremely helpless. Already surrendered.

"Dee … please!"

"Please what?" This time he laughed, little did he know the ramble of his laughter was sending another wave of pleasant electric shocks through her body. So she reached out and grabbed him through his boxer, making him laugh again.

"Not yet, Y/n. I need to watch you come without any touch. Just by thinking about me." He grabbed her wrist and pushed it out.

"Sel.fish!" She moaned in her fever, once again clutching at the sheets.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart. But if you want me, you have to do as what I said." He whispered on her ear, perfectly keeping his body away to prevent any accidental touch, caging her between his big limbs.

"It can't be that hard, Y/n. Just don't fight it. Don't fight me in your head. Let him have you. Remember me inside of you. I want to kiss your neck and bite on these nipples. Come. So I can rock your whole world."

"God … oh, God!" Her eyes flattered close again. Now she could feel his words hitting her emotions and sex, rising goosebumps everywhere on her skin.

"Look at you, baby. Your legs are already shaking. Your body is burning like hell. I think if you let go, you can make everything wet on this bed. If only you knew how I've missed to taste it …"

Nope, it was too much.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck!" Her back arched uncontrollably and she almost screamed. Her toes curved and fireworks want off in her existence. Then she fell back on the bed, out of her mind, high on orgasm, shaking in ecstasy.

"That's my girl." Dean said proudly, watching her almost pouring on the bed. Feeling the never ending need to make love to her again; he found out he wants to watch this beautiful scene longer. He wanted her to enjoy more and he wanted to join her too. So he pushed himself in her and she welcomed him by squeezing her walls.

"Geez, Y/n! You're killing me." He leaned to pecked on her lips again, then kissed her nipple through another suck, vibrating her clit between his right thumb and index. Then his hips started a new pace to thrust, with her favorite rhythm.

"Dee" she weakly murmured, eyes still shut, lashes resting against her flashed skin.

"What's it, sweetheart?" He looked down to watch her slightly bigger mama breasts, bouncing softly with his thrusts. Darting his tongue out, he wet his thirsty lips.

"I love you." She breathed out, once again melting in the possession of her hero. And Dean couldn't even find the proper words to make it even. "Love" just wasn't enough. For him she was much more than that. She was his destiny and his home. The only shelter he had. The warmth in his veins. The dear light in his dark life.

"Tell me you'll always be mine." Dean demanded, grabbing one of her breasts, squeezing it between his thick fingers, riding her harder.

"Yours … always!" Y/n managed to say between the strong thrusts and Dean found her mouth again.

"Uh …" she moaned on his tongue, pounding between his thighs.

"It's ok. I got you." As he reassured, Y/n opened her legs even more, completely given up herself to her man. And Dean couldn't imagine anything hotter than this or anyone hotter than her.

"You're so damn sexy." He admitted, riding her even more, breathing in her neck, feeling her fast pulse on his lips and her seductive perfume in his nose.

"Fuck … Fuck. Fuck!" He almost crushed her body under his own when he couldn't hold his weight, releasing all his love and passion inside of her.

And just like that time and place, even the world faded away in his mind. Everything and everyone but … Her.

And she came again to welcome him.

"God damn, woman. How it can possible for you to love me this much?" He lifted his head to watch her half opened eyes.

"I love you with my everything." She made sure to stare right into his eyes, giving him the most sweet smile in the whole world.

Dean was out of any ability to say anything that could express all his endless and countless feelings for her. So he kept his mouth shut and instead he kissed her again. Still thirsty! As passionate as before.

She sighed on his lips softly. After spending a long day doing her routine mom business, and spending a night with some wild sex, it was not surprising that she needed to take some rest.

"It's ok, sweetheart. Go to sleep. I'll be here with you." He murmured, peppering kisses everywhere on her face and body. Till she fell asleep, safe and sound.

*The end*

Thanks for reading.

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#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x you #dean x ofc #allyswritingevent #acklesterritory #jensen ackles x ofc #supernatural fanfiction

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