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horeformilfs · 4 months

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Save me

WandaNat x Fem!Avenger Reader

TW: Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Drowning

Translations:

любимая = Beloved

Дорогой = Darling

Моя любовь = My Love

мой ангел = My Angel

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The quinjet rumbled as it soared through the evening sky, the aftermath of a mission lingering heavily in the air. Y/N sat in silence, staring out of the window, her thoughts drowning in a tempest of self-doubt and frustration. Despite the mission's success, Steve's reproach echoed in her mind, each word carving deeper into the wounds they'd been hiding.

Wanda Maximoff, sensing the heaviness in the air, slid closer to Y/N, intertwining their fingers. "Hey," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "You know Steve can be harsh sometimes. Don't let it get to you."

Y/N managed a faint smile, appreciating Wanda's attempt to console her, but the darkness within remained unspoken. Natasha Romanoff, seated across from the two, shot a concerned glance her way. Y/N averted her gaze, unwilling to let anyone see the turmoil within.

As the jet continued its journey back to the compound, Steve, unable to let the matter rest, confronted Y/N again. "This is a team, Y/N! We depend on each other. You can't afford to make reckless decisions like that."

Natasha, always protective, stepped in, "Steve, ease up. We all made it out fine."

Ignoring Natasha's plea, Steve continued his admonishment. Y/N, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, fought to hold back tears. Wanda squeezed her hand, offering silent support, but Y/N abruptly withdrew.

Natasha, observing the sudden change, leaned toward Wanda and asked in a hushed tone, "Is Y/N okay?"

Wanda shook her head subtly, her concern mirroring Natasha's. She glanced at Y/N, who had moved to a different part of the quinjet, staring into the distance. Natasha excused herself and approached Y/N cautiously.

"Hey," Natasha said softly, concern etched in her eyes. "You can't keep everything bottled up. What's going on?"

Y/N hesitated, the weight of her unspoken struggles threatening to spill over. "It's nothing, Nat. Just tired."

Natasha saw through the facade, but before she could press further, Wanda joined them. "Everything alright?" she asked, her eyes flickering between Y/N and Natasha.

Y/N forced a smile, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, just tired."

Wanda, sensing the evasion, decided not to push, but the worry lingered in her gaze. As the quinjet descended towards the Avengers' compound, the unspoken tension within the team remained, a storm waiting to be weathered.

The compound's landing pad greeted the quinjet with a soft hum as it touched down. Y/N, still grappling with the emotional fallout of the mission and Steve's stern words, stepped off the aircraft, leaving the conversation suspended in the air.

Nick Fury, a stern expression etched on his face, awaited Y/N. "Agent Y/L/N, my office. Now."

Y/N exchanged a quick, worried glance with Nat and Wanda before nodding and following Fury. The redheads shared an anxious look, their concern growing as Y/N disappeared from view.

In Fury's office, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Nick wasted no time in listing every perceived mistake during the mission. Y/N listened in silence, internalizing the criticism, each word adding another layer to the self-doubt she was trying so desperately to conceal. When the reprimand concluded, Fury dismissed Y/N with a curt nod, leaving her alone to grapple with the weight of her perceived failures.

Returning to her shared room, Y/N found Nat and Wanda sitting on the bed, a palpable worry etched across their faces. Without a word, Y/N moved towards the bathroom, needing a moment to collect herself.

Natasha, her gaze following Y/N, sighed, "дорогой, what's going on? You're not fine."

Wanda, leaning against Natasha, added, "Моя любовь, we can see something's bothering you. Talk to us."

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, the facade still intact. "It's nothing, really. Just a rough day."

Natasha frowned, concern deepening. "Don't shut us out, дорогой. We're here for you."

Wanda nodded, her eyes pleading. "Моя любовь, we care about you. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

Y/N hesitated, the weight of her struggles conflicting with the desire to protect the ones she cared about. "It's just... a lot. I'll be okay, I promise."

Natasha and Wanda exchanged glances, unconvinced but respecting Y/N's choice for now. Y/N offered a weak smile, attempting to reassure them. "I just need some time to clear my head. Thanks for understanding."

The aroma of pizza wafted through the Avengers' common room, where the team had gathered for their weekly pizza and game night. Natasha and Wanda, dressed casually for the occasion, approached Y/N, who seemed lost in thought.

"Hey, Y/N, pizza's here. Game night's starting soon. You coming?" Natasha asked with a playful smile.

Y/N looked up, weariness evident in her eyes. "Nah, I think I'll pass tonight. Just really tired and could use some sleep."

Wanda exchanged a concerned glance with Natasha, but they respected Y/N's decision. "Alright, if you need anything, we'll be downstairs. Take care," Wanda said, leaning in to kiss Y/N gently on the cheek. Natasha followed suit, leaving a lingering kiss on Y/N's forehead.

As the hour passed, laughter and the clatter of board game pieces echoed from below. Y/N, lying in bed, couldn't shake the sense of isolation that gripped her. Faint strains of joy reached her ears, intensifying the ache of loneliness within.

Unable to resist the curiosity, Y/N decided to check on the festivities. Slipping out of bed, she quietly descended the stairs and peeked around the corner. The sight of the team sharing laughter and camaraderie only deepened Y/N's sense of alienation.

A heavy sigh escaped Y/N as she turned to leave, footsteps echoing her retreat. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Natasha noticed their departure, nudging Wanda to glance in the direction of Y/N's retreating figure.

"Something's not right," Natasha murmured, concern etching her features.

Wanda nodded, her eyes following Y/N. "Let's check on her."

The two redheads hurriedly excused themselves, making their way to catch up with Y/N. However, by the time they reached the compound's entrance, Y/N was nowhere in sight.

"Y/N!" Wanda called out, but the night swallowed their words.

Natasha scanned the surroundings, worry etched on her face. "She couldn't have gone far. Let's split up and find her."

Unbeknownst to Natasha and Wanda, Y/N, grappling with a storm of emotions, had ventured into the quiet darkness outside the compound, feeling like a solitary star in a vast, lonely sky.

The night enveloped the compound in a somber embrace as Y/N walked the familiar trail to the lake. The water, usually a source of solace, reflected the moon's gentle glow. Y/N's footsteps echoed in the quiet, each step heavy with the burden she carried.

As Y/N reached the lake, dark thoughts clawed at the edges of her mind, whispering lies of inadequacy and isolation. The water's surface mirrored the turmoil within, rippling with each conflicting emotion.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Wanda, attuned to the depths of her thoughts, felt a sudden jolt of concern. She sought out Natasha, urgency etched in her expression. "Nat, something's wrong with Y/N. I can hear her thoughts, and it's not good."

Natasha, instantly alert, nodded. "Let's find her. Fast."

Together, they traversed the compound, their search fueled by a shared determination to reach Y/N before it was too late.

Meanwhile, Y/N, standing at the water's edge, contemplated the dark abyss within and beyond. The weight of her struggles pushed her toward a perilous decision. In the solitude of the night, the lake seemed to beckon, offering an escape from the storm within.

Wanda and Natasha, guided by an unsettling intuition, pressed on. Natasha's voice broke the silence as they moved with purpose. "We have to find Y/N before..."

Wanda finished the thought, her worry evident. "Before it's too late."

As Y/N waded into the water, fully clothed, the coldness biting at her skin, the gravity of her actions began to sink in. Yet, the relentless darkness within urged her forward, drowning out reason and hope.

Wanda's eyes widened as the echoes of Y/N's thoughts intensified. "Nat, we're running out of time."

Natasha quickened her pace, fear gnawing at her. "We have to find her now."

At the water's edge, Y/N ventured further, oblivious to the silent urgency echoing through the night. With each step, the water's embrace grew colder, and the depths seemed to welcome her into a haunting embrace.

The water closed in around Y/N, reaching her neck as fatigue weighed heavily on her limbs. The struggle to stay afloat became a losing battle, and the haunting depths of the lake seemed to embrace her with a chilling finality.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Wanda combed through the woods, searching for any sign of Y/N. Wanda's eyes widened in realization. "I remember. There's a lake Y/N used to go to when things got tough. She has to be there."

Natasha, fueled by a surge of concern, urged Wanda to lead the way. "Let's go. We need to find her."

In the dark waters, Y/N's final reserves of strength gave out. She surrendered to the depths, letting the cold water seep into her lungs. Consciousness waned, and the world faded to a surreal blur.

As Natasha and Wanda reached the lake, the sight of Y/N's abandoned shoes on the edge sent shivers down their spines. Wanda's eyes scanned the water's surface, catching a subtle disruption near the middle of the lake.

"There," she pointed to Natasha, urgency in her voice. Without hesitation, both women plunged into the water, swimming with determined strokes toward the disturbance in the otherwise tranquil lake.

Natasha's voice broke the silence, her concern palpable. "Y/N!"

Wanda echoed the call, her desperation fuelling her movements. "Y/N, where are you?"

The moonlight danced on the water's surface as they searched, driven by the fear of losing their girlfriend. The lake, once a haven for Y/N, now held a silent secret beneath its depths, as Natasha and Wanda raced against time to bring Y/N back from the edge.

Wanda dove beneath the surface, the cold water enveloping her as she searched for any sign of Y/N. Her senses heightened, she felt a faint brush against her, and her heart leaped. She moved swiftly, hand extended, until her fingers closed around something solid. As she pulled it towards her, relief surged through her when she realized it was Y/N's hand.

Breaking through the surface, Wanda clutched Y/N to her chest. Natasha, seeing the distress on Wanda's face, swam over to assist. Wanda struggled to keep Y/N afloat, her arms wrapped protectively around the younger woman.

Natasha's expression mirrored the urgency of the situation. "Wanda, fly Y/N back to the shore. Start CPR. I'll swim back and meet you there."

Wanda nodded, determination in her eyes. With a burst of energy, she levitated herself and Y/N out of the water, flying towards the shore as fast as she could. Natasha propelled herself through the water, a powerful swimmer on a mission.

As Wanda landed on the shore, she cradled Y/N in her arms, laying her gently on the ground. Panic and relief mingled in her eyes as she started CPR, each compression accompanied by whispered words of encouragement.

Natasha emerged from the water, swiftly joining Wanda. " I'll take over."

Wanda, tears streaming down her face, nodded and stepped back. Natasha seamlessly continued the lifesaving efforts, the rhythmic compressions and breaths punctuating the tense silence. The fate of their girlfriend hung in the balance, and as Natasha worked to revive Y/N, the night seemed to hold its breath.

Natasha continued the lifesaving measures, the rhythm of compressions and breaths a desperate cadence against the quiet backdrop of the night. Wanda, her voice steady despite the urgency, dialed Bruce Banner, urgency lacing her words. "Banner, we need the med bay ready. It's Y/N. Hurry."

Y/N, caught between the realms of consciousness and oblivion, finally expelled water from her lungs. Wanda and Natasha, relief etched on their faces, surrounded her, coaxing her back to the present.

Natasha whispered, her voice a gentle reassurance, "Дорогой, stay with us. You're gonna be okay."

Y/N, seeking solace in the familiar, inched closer to Wanda, the redhead's presence a comforting anchor. Wanda, her arms encircling Y/N, whispered sweet nothings, her words a balm to the turmoil within. "Моя любовь, you're safe now. We've got you."

As Wanda lifted Y/N into her arms, carrying her like a precious burden, Natasha draped her jacket over Y/N's shivering form. They embarked on the hurried journey back to the compound, the weight of Y/N's quiet apologies hanging in the air.

Y/N, struggling to stay awake, murmured softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Wanda tightened her hold, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Shh, любимая, it's okay. We're here for you."

Natasha added, her voice firm yet soothing, "No apologies, мой ангел. We've got you, and we're going to take care of you."

The night held their collective breath as they rushed towards the compound, the echoes of the lake's silent secret gradually giving way to a glimmer of hope.

Upon reaching the compound, Natasha and Wanda hurriedly carried Y/N to the med bay, where Bruce Banner awaited their arrival. The atmosphere in the room shifted, tense yet focused, as the two redheads gently laid Y/N on the examination table.

Bruce, his usual calm demeanor replaced by concern, immediately started assessing Y/N's condition. "What happened?"

Wanda, her voice trembling slightly, explained, "Y/N went to the lake, and we found her in the water. We need to make sure she's okay."

Bruce nodded, directing the medical team to assist. "I'll take it from here. Give us some space, but stay close. We might need you."

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a worried glance before reluctantly stepping back, their eyes never leaving Y/N's unconscious form. As the medical team worked, the room buzzed with tension, each passing moment intensifying the weight of the night's events.

Wanda's fingers interlaced with Natasha's, the silent communication between them reflecting shared concern. Natasha pulled Wanda into a reassuring hug, their unspoken support a lifeline amidst the uncertainty.

After what felt like an eternity, Bruce finally turned towards them. "Y/N will be okay. She expelled most of the water, but we'll keep Her under observation for a while. She need rest."

Relief washed over Natasha and Wanda, the gravity of the situation slowly lifting. They entered the recovery room where Y/N lay, pale yet breathing steadily. Wanda took a seat by Y/N's side, and Natasha joined her, the unspoken bond between them palpable.

As Y/N began to stir, Natasha brushed a strand of hair from her face, whispering, "Hey there, мой ангел. You gave us a scare."

Y/N's eyes met Wanda's, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the weight of her earlier apologies lingering.

Wanda leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead. "No need for apologies, любимая. We're just glad you're back with us."

Natasha and Wanda sat on either side of the bed, their eyes filled with concern and love as Y/N recounted the harrowing events at the lake.

Wanda spoke first, her voice soft yet firm, "Y/N, we care about you. You're not a burden, and your problems are never 'stupid.' We're your girlfriends, and we want to be there for you, no matter what."

Natasha added, her gaze steady, "You don't have to face everything alone. We're a team, remember? Lean on us when you need to."

Y/N looked down, her fingers nervously playing with the sheets. "I just didn't want to bother you. It felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts, and I didn't want to drag you down with me."

Wanda reached for Y/N's hand, squeezing it gently. "Your thoughts and feelings matter to us. You're not a burden, and we want to help carry the weight together."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "I understand. Thank you both."

Natasha, always pragmatic, stood up. "Alright, enough serious talk for now. I'm going to get us some coffee and soup. You two stay put."

As Natasha left the room, Wanda shifted to lie next to Y/N. She tenderly ran her fingers through Y/N's hair, placing soft kisses on their forehead. "You're safe now, любимая. We're here for you, always."

Y/N let out a sigh, leaning into Wanda's touch. "Can... can you cuddle with me?"

Wanda smiled, her eyes full of warmth. "Of course, моя любовь."

Natasha returned with a tray, placing it on a nearby table. "Coffee for us, soup for you. Eat something, alright?"

Y/N nodded, and as Wanda curled up with them on the bed, Natasha took a seat nearby. The room was filled with the soothing aroma of coffee, the gentle murmur of their voices, and the unspoken assurance that, in each other's company, they could weather any storm.

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loveronlineee · 2 years

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The Little Things Part 2 (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist All Parts

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Y/N puts eyeliner on Eddie (That’s it. That’s all you need to know.)

Y/N notes: none

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

“Good evening gents!” Eddie shouted as he sauntered into their club room. The group turned to see their dungeon master, They were already setup and waiting for him.

“Eddie where the hell have you been? We were supposed to start like 15 minutes ago!” Dustin whined.

“I’m afraid there was a fair maiden in need of saving.” Eddie explained as he sat down. He put both his hands on the table, examining the set up.

“A fair maiden?” Dustin repeated, sceptical. Mike looked down at Eddie’s hands, noticing his decorated nails.

“Y/N L/N?!” Mike questioned. Eddie just smiled and winked. “No way dude.”

“I’ll have you know Wheeler, that L/N and I are very. Good. Friends.” Eddie replied, putting emphasis on his last three words. He was riding the high of the afternoon he had had with Y/N. It actually made the D&D session better as Eddie was even more in character than usual.

As the club filtered out, Dustin and Mike brought it up again.

“Y/N L/N. Really?” Mike asked for the millionth time.

“Yes Wheeler. Really.” Eddie replied as the cold night air hit them.

“I still don’t buy it.” Dustin shook his head. Eddie walked backwards towards his van.

“You shall see sceptical one. Tomorrow morning. Before school.” He did finger guns at them before getting into his van and driving off.

The next morning arrived. Eddie sat in his van in the car park listening to music, drumming on the steering wheel as he watched students filter into the building. He heard a knock on his side window. Y/N was there, smiling at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. He watched as she ran around the front and got into the passenger seat. She held up her eyeliner pencil.

“You ready?” She asked excitedly, already taking the lid off. Eddie chuckled.

“As long as you don’t take my eye out L/N.”

“Can’t make any promises Eddie.” She joked back. She held Eddie’s chin and moved him to face her. The girl scanned then furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Eddie was just appreciating how close they were to each other again. Her hand felt so soft on his face. He wanted to put his hand on top but resisted the urge.

“Everything okay?” He asked, after a few seconds of silence. Y/N let go of his face and began getting up.

“I can’t get a good view from here. Do you mind?” She moved over to sit on Eddie’s lap, facing him. The metal head’s eyes widened as he watched her get on top of him. His arms reflexively went up so they were in mid air. He could feel his nerves rising. Y/N noted his slight panic.

“You good?” Eddie paused before replying quietly.

“I don’t know where to put my hands.” Y/N chuckled and guided his hands to rest on her hips.

“Here okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” Eddie managed to reply, still processing what was happening.

“Okay try to stay still.” Once she started, Eddie managed to relax a little and actually enjoy the experience. He didn’t want to move his hands in case he did something wrong. Instead he focused on Y/N’s face, still deep in concentration. One hand held his chin, tilting his head back, the other holding the pencil. “You gotta look up.”

“But what if I wanna look at you?” Eddie mumbled but Y/N definitely caught it. She couldn’t help but smile at that response. Still, she was determined to do what she set out to.

“You can look at me all you want when I’m done.” Eddie looked up.

“All I want?”

“Aaaaaaaall you want.” Y/N replied, drawing across Eddie’s waterline. She tried to keep it steady as Eddie’s grin changed the shape of his eyes. She finally pulled away.

“How do I look L/N?”

“Pretty.” Eddie’s smile grew wider at her response.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N moved his hair away from his eyes to admire her work.

“You got anything else for me?” Eddie asked. Y/N cocked her head to the side.

“Hmm… I wish I’d brought my tinted lip gloss. But that probably would have been too much.” She replied, letting herself think out loud. Eddie shrugged.

“I’d be up for it.” Y/N nodded.

“Okay I’ll remember it for tomorro-“

“You’re wearing it right now aren’t you?” Eddie questioned.

“Yeah?” Y/N replied cautiously.

“Well there is one way I can wear your lip gloss then.” Eddie stated. Y/N hesitated for a moment. She slowly leaned forward. Eddie closed his eyes and waited patiently to feel Y/N’s lips on his.

She tasted soft and sweet. Even in just a simple kiss, he felt his world spinning. He opened his eyes again as he felt her pull away. She stared at him quizzically before cleaning up the corners of his mouth with her finger.

“Not sure if it suits you…”

“Y/N you can’t be serious.”

“What?” Y/N questioned.

“You can’t tell me that the only reason you did that was to see how I’d look with the lip gloss on.” Y/N chuckled.

“I didn’t say that.” Eddie finally smiled back at her again. They heard the school bell ring from the building. “Shit I’m gonna be late.”

Y/N spun herself around so that she was still sat on him, but now facing the front. She pulled down the mirror to fix her own lip gloss and couldn’t help but notice Eddie staring. She also couldn’t ignore how his arms had wrapped around her waist. No matter how warm and comforting it felt, she needed to go. “Eddie come on.”

“We can be a little late.” Eddie mumbled into her neck. Y/N chuckled as she pulled herself out of his grasp.

“Nope we gotta go.” The metal head sighed but didn’t protest anymore. He followed Y/N out of his van and to the front entrance. That’s when he spotted Dustin and Mike staring at them, mouths slightly open in disbelief. Eddie wasn’t sure how much they had seen but it was definitely at least Y/N sitting on his lap in his van. Y/N turned back to him one last time. “I’ll see you later!” Eddie waved as she disappeared inside.

“How the hell..?” Mike managed to say. Eddie just winked at them and walked past.

“Told ya boys.”

#eddie munson #reader x Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things season four #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steddie #reader x Steve harrington #st steddie

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moonlightspencie · 1 year

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Things I Can’t Say

Description: Aaron Hotchner has a lot of things on his mind. Most of which he can never bring himself to say. Until one slip unravels everything. (originally posted on ao3)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Warnings: usual criminal minds-level mentions of cases, hotch being dumb

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: it’s me. hi. i’m back

The case was turning out to be a rough one. Each lead was turning up as a dead end, and every member of the team was just about over the chase after a couple of days.

Y/N sat in the office the local precinct had set aside for the team, on the phone with Penelope as she rattled off a million ideas. They eventually came to a possible suspect, Y/N putting the phone on speaker for Hotch and Reid to listen to as she listed her points.

“He could be a good starting point. He knew Quinn, and hung out in the same circles as the other three,” Garcia offered.

“Okay, we’ll check him out. Thanks, sugar,” Y/N said with a smile.

“Anything for you, my sweet.”

She hung up, looking to Hotch to find him already looking at her.

“She already sent the address,” he said, holding up his phone.

“Awesome.”

“You’ll come with me to check out the first suspect. Reid, I want you to stay here and complete the geographical profile.”

“Sounds good. I feel like I’m getting somewhere,” Reid said, nearly mindlessly.

Hotch nodded, starting towards the exit of the precinct with Y/N on his heels.

They pulled up to the house after a long drive, already getting the feeling this wouldn’t be their guy. Hotch pulled the key from the ignition, and they walked up to the front door.

A man opened the door after a firm knock, burly and a bit unkempt. Y/N spoke up first, hoping to soften him up to questioning.

“I’m supervisory special agent Y/L/N, this is Agent Hotchner. Can we ask you a few questions?”

He raised his brows. “Anything you say.”

“We’re inquiring about a man named Quinn. We hear you were good friends,” Hotch stated.

“Is there a question in there, agent?”

Hotch sighed. “Do you know the last time you saw him?”

“Week ago. Maybe two.”

Y/N crossed her arms, whispering to Hotch. “He’s not our guy. We’re looking for someone highly organized.”

Hotch nodded, dropping his arms.

“Well,” Y/N started, handing the man a business card. “Thank you for your time, sir. If you have any information, please give us a call.”

He looked at the card briefly. Then, “One question.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“Pretty girl like you: what are you doing working with the FBI?” the man asked, a sly smile on his face. “Don’t you think you’d be happier someplace else? Maybe around here?”

“She is a federal agent,” Hotch said, moving to stand in front of her. “Try practicing a little more respect.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to be afraid of you, G-man?”

“You may be too incompetent to be the unsub we’re looking for, but I promise you this: one more slip-up and we will nail you to the wall for the illegal guns, and the drugs. I’m too busy to deal with scum like you currently, but you can believe I’ll have local law enforcement coming back with a warrant and subsequent 20-year sentence.”

The man stopped in his tracks, color draining from his face and confidence waning completely.

“Hotch,” she said, a hand on his arm. “Let it go. It’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine,” he huffed, turning towards her. The man shut his door in the meantime. “We’re federal agents on a job. There’s no reason for anyone to think it appropriate to treat you like that. Especially in a situation like this.”

“He’s put in his place now, though. I think you put the fear of God in him.”

She laughed, taking half a step back. He didn’t falter, though.

“I just—“ he started and stopped just as quickly.

“I know you’ve been a little on edge with this case. It’s okay. Just… Don’t worry about the little things like that. I could’ve taken care of it.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Come on,” she said, starting to walk back towards the car. “I’ll let you have your pick of the music on the way back.”

He hid a smirk, following after her. The ride back to the precinct was quiet. Too quiet.

She turned to look at Hotch as he drove, uncharacteristically silent. It took a few seconds before he realized she was watching him, and he shot a sideways glance in her direction.

“You have something on your mind,” he stated, not even bothering to ask a question.

“Yeah. You’re being really quiet. Much more so than normal.”

He sighed, not giving a response.

“What is it, Hotch?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Are you still mad about that guy flirting with me?” she asked with half a smile.

“No,” he said shortly.

She scoffed. “Right. That was real convincing.”

He side eyed her. “I’m not.”

“You know, it’s okay if you are. I get it,” she started, a smile breaking out. “I really don’t mind if you’re all jealous.”

His face flushed, embarrassment taking hold.

“That’s not— It’s not what that is,” he muttered.

She raised a brow, the smile fading from her face as she took in his flustered state. She sat up straight in her seat, looking at him.

“Hey, I was just joking…” she trailed off. “Wait, are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

“You’re flushed and acting really flustered. It doesn’t take a profiler, Hotch.”

“I— No. I couldn’t be.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he said with a raised voice. He then took a moment, taking in a breath. “I can’t be. I have Beth, I can’t.”

Her heart stopped in that moment, she was sure. She didn’t know what to say, settling back in her seat and watching the road in front of her as they continued on towards the station. He was just as quiet, though internally panicking over letting it slip. He couldn’t help but think back to when he first realized she would become a problem for him.

—————

They sat at the table in the restaurant, exchanging the most embarrassing stories they could think of. Everyone was busting up with laughter through the night.

“No!” she exclaimed, looking at Reid with wild eyes. “You took down an old woman?”

Reid groaned. “Not on purpose! I tripped!”

“You’re lucky she didn’t break a hip,” Derek said with a laugh, slapping a hand against his back.

“At least it isn’t Y/N, here, getting thrown up on by a suspect,” Hotch said, smirking at her as he let something she’d been trying to keep secret slip.

“You asshole,” she laughed, lightly smacking his arm. “I was hoping to take that to my grave.”

“Oh, that is so gross,” Kate said, laughing.

“She had to change her pants in the car. It was lucky she had a change, because I did not want to ride back with her covered in… that,” Hotch laughed.

She groaned, pressing her face against his arm and away from the group. He laughed it off, his hand reaching down to rest on her knee as she waited out the laughter of the others. Though, this small gesture started feeling like too much for him. He could tell his face was reddening, and he took his hand away quickly to not alert anyone else to his condition.

He swallowed, trying to calm his nerves. He took in a breath, smiling slightly as she finally pulled away from his arm, though he felt his heart still pounding wildly. He couldn’t feel anything for her. He was her boss. She deserved better.

—————

She sat in her seat, unsure what her next move would be. Unsure what it should be in a circumstance like this. Did he really just admit he was jealous?

“We can just pretend this didn’t happen, you know? I— I don’t want you to feel guilty or freaked out about this,” she offered, still not looking at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No, I know. I know you didn’t,” she said, nodding. “You— You have Beth. You have a lot going on right now, frankly. I don’t want you to feel like this is adding on, or…”

“I understand. I really appreciate that.”

“Anything.”

He swallowed. “I just… I didn’t mean for that to slip out.”

“I know. You really don’t have to explain anything, it’s okay.”

He nodded quietly, both parties turning back to their own worlds as the pavement flew by them.

The rest of the case was a welcome relieve to the conversation they didn’t want to remember any longer. While they never wished for a difficult case, neither of them could say the mental gymnastics weren’t a great way to forget everything else around them.

Before long, though, the case was over. And, unfortunately, they were surrounded by profilers.

“Everything okay?” Derek asked as he sat next to Y/N. “You’re spaced out, sweet stuff.”

She smirked. “I’m alright. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“Not particularly. It’ll pass, so no worries here.”

He nodded, not convinced. “If you need to…”

“You’ll be there,” she said, finishing his sentence. “I appreciate you, Derek Morgan.”

“Right back at you, mama,” he said, nudging her side with a smile. “And if you need me to kick ass…”

“Won’t be necessary.”

“Just an offer,” he said, hands raised in surrender.

She smiled. “I know.”

The next couple of weeks were excruciating. She kept up a happy face, but she couldn’t stop thinking about his pseudo-confession. She wished she had the guts to say something back, but she knew it would have been pointless. He had someone, and had too much on his plate to deal with a younger subordinate confessing feelings for him. It wasn’t unwelcome when Garcia scurried through the bullpen with talk of a new case.

“Meet Maria Gonzales, thirty-four, and Cameron March, twenty-nine. Both women were reported missing within the past month, and just turned up in the past two weeks, bound in plastic with ligature marks on their wrists and ankles. They were each taken from a different healthcare facility in the San Antonio area last month. Now, a Miss Bryar Johnson has been abducted from yet another facility.”

Y/N sighed. “Yikes. So, we should have about a two-week period to find Bryar?”

“Yes,” Garcia started. “The first two women were killed right before they were dumped. Bryar was reported missing three days ago.”

“Plastic could be a sign of remorse,” Spencer piped up.

“What was the cause of death?” Rossi asked.

“Strangulation,” Hotch said, not looking up from the files. “Wheels up in 20.”

The San Antonio case was going surprisingly well, though Y/N felt that it could be going better on a personal level. Usually she’d pair up with Hotch for most of the case, especially since their similar skill sets matched with their different personal presentations was always helpful in getting answers whenever they needed them. This time around, he hardly looked in her direction.

“I know you said you’d tell me if something was wrong, but you’re still not saying a damn thing,” Derek said, walking up to her at the table she sat at.

She looked up at him, then went right back to searching through the files that sat before her. She could tell Derek was staring a hole into the back of her head, but couldn’t justify telling him what was happening in her life at the moment.

He sat down next to her, dragging the files away from her line of site.

“Mama, I know when something is up with you. You can’t hide that from me.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not saying anything.”

He sighed. “You’re being awfully difficult.”

“What’s new?” she questioned with a smile, finally looking at him.

He chuckled. “Touché. You’re talking to me now, at least.”

“I always talk to you, Morgan.”

“Most of the time. Except when you’re trying to hide something.”

She glared at him. “Have you considered I’m not talking for a reason?”

“Oh, I’ve considered it. I just know that when you hold stuff in you get all solemn and grumpy. I don’t want you to get to that point,” he said, turning her chair towards him. “Talk.”

“I can’t, Derek.”

“Why not?” he asked, voice quieter.

She sighed. “It’s… It’s hard to explain. It’s really personal.”

He reached for her hand, quietly taking it and not saying another words for a few moments. She looked to where their hands connected, letting out a shaky breath as she did.

“It’s Hotch,” she whispered, not looking at him.

“What? Is he okay?”

She nodded. “He’s fine. I’m just— I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s wrong? I haven’t seen you like this,” he noted, brow furrowing in concern.

She shook her head. “Yeah. It’s… I don’t know. Have you ever felt something so strongly, but just knew there was nothing you could do about it?”

He paused, studying her for a moment. He scooted forward slightly, eyes still trained on her face as he spoke quietly.

“Do you have feelings for Hotch?”

She nodded after a beat. “And I think he confessed the same to me but— There’s just nothing to be done about it. The worst part of all of it is that he can’t even look at me now. We haven’t really spoken since then. That was a few weeks ago.”

Morgan sighed, looking down. “Damn.”

“Damn, indeed,” she said with half a smirk.

He chuckled slightly. “I’m sorry, mama. I— I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“Of course you can’t. You’re a smoke show. Who could resist?”

He laughed out loud. “You know me so well.”

She laughed along. “What can I say?”

He stood up, taking her hands as he did. She stood with him, accepting a long hug from him.

“You deserve to be happy,” he whispered. “Let this one go. You’ll find the right person.”

“I get it. It just really sucks right now.”

“I know.”

“We have a break in the case,” Hotch’s voice rang out in the small room, breaking the two of them up.

“Yeah?” she asked, pulling away from Derek. “What do you need from us?”

Hotch looked between them for a moment, then continued on.

“Garcia should have just sent an address. We need to leave now, though. A massive storm is rolling in and roads are getting bad.”

“Gotcha,” she said, nodding curtly. “Are we all riding together?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

She paused for a moment before responding. “Right.”

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Morgan said with finality. As soon as Hotch left, he turned back to her, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s finish this and get home.”

The storm turned out worse than they all had expected. The take-down ended up slightly more difficult due to power outages across the state, and the more difficult part was the fact that they would be forced to stay for the night when Y/N wanted nothing more than to go home to her own bed.

She sat inside the SUV with Hotch and Rossi on the way back to the hotel for the night, staring out the window at the pouring rain. Their voices became a type of white noise to her as they conversed quietly, though her silence didn’t go unnoticed.

Hotch glanced back at her every couple of minutes, feeling a sense of dread at the coming conversation she currently knew nothing about. His heart felt like it might burst, and putting up a front was getting harder and harder by the minute. He had a million thoughts running through his head, and it certainly didn’t help that she was completely spaced out in the backseat.

“You’re awfully quiet back there,” Rossi noted, finally breaking the two out of their own heads.

“Just tired,” she said. “The rain doesn’t help. I always get sleepy during storms.”

“You sure?”

She hummed. “Yeah. No worries here, Rossi.”

They pulled into the parking lot after a few minutes, and prepared to run inside of the building and away from the downpour. They all got in with minimal damage done, though not without some wet hair.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she looked at the two men, her own head safe after using a jacket as a shield.

“Good look, you guys. The drowned rat thing really suits you,” she said with a smile, looking between them.

“Hey, watch it. Maybe next time you won’t be so lucky,” Rossi said, laughing lightly as he shook his hair out.

Hotch smiled, scrunching his nose as he brushed his fingers through his hair. Y/N watched him with intent, though not without missing the fact that Rossi knew that look on her.

He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna head off.”

She looked to Rossi as he gave them one last knowing look. A look that was a bit too smug for her liking.

“He’s acting weird,” she said out loud.

Hotch nodded. “That’s Dave.”

“Only when he knows something,” she said, looking back to him expectantly.

“What would he know?” Hotch questioned.

She watched him for a moment. “You tell me.”

He cleared his throat, glancing away. She was silent, hoping it’d prompt him to say something.

“Can we talk privately?”

“Why?”

“You said you wanted to know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Hotch, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He sighed. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I’m not saying you would.”

“Y/N.”

She crossed her arms. “We haven’t talked in weeks. I don’t know how to act around you right now.”

“I never should have said anything. Not like that, I know,” he said with a sigh. “I would really appreciate if we could talk about it now, though. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Please. Can we go someplace else? The others are going to be here any minute.”

She glanced around the hotel lobby, then back to the man in front of her. He sure looked less intimidating with soaking wet hair and puppy dog eyes.

Eventually, she nodded. “Okay.”

They stepped into the hotel elevator, unsure what to say in the silence. She looked up at him, receiving a small smile. The elevator dinged on the floor they were all staying on, and she led him to her room.

He followed after quietly, standing awkwardly by the door after she closed and locked it. She turned to look at him once she sat on the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m still wet.”

She couldn’t help by laugh. She then got up, making a quick stop in the bathroom to grab a towel. She came back, standing in front of him to hand it over.

“Here,” she said, arms extended with the towel in hand.

He smiled. “Thanks.”

She watched as he scrubbed at his head, his hair flying in all directions by the time he was done.

“You look ridiculous,” she said with a smirk.

He dropped his arms, towel still in hand. His brow quirked up.

“That bad?”

“Not bad. Just ridiculous.”

He failed to hide a smile at that, looking around for a place to set down the towel. She took it from him, instructing him to take off his shoes as she went to throw it in the bathroom once again. She came back to see him settling down on the edge of the bed.

“So,” she started, trailing off as she sat next to him. “What’s up?”

He snorted a laugh. “A lot. I think, first, I need to apologize to you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he said with a nod, turning to look at her more fully. “I shouldn’t have let on that I had any kind of feeling for you other than professional ones. That’s… It was really unfair to you, and puts you in a bad position. I want you to feel safe and respected at work, and I feel like I’ve put that at risk.”

“Hotch,” she said, stopping him. “You didn’t. I know you respect me, and I do feel safe. As safe as an agent can get, anyways.”

She laughed, drawing a small smile from him.

She continued, “I made a joke, and it turned out to be true. You didn’t just up and tell me. I’m just like… Really good at my job.”

He fully laughed this time, head dropping into his hands.

“You’re making it really hard to feel bad about this,” he mumbled.

“Good. You shouldn’t feel bad.”

He sighed, looking back up. “I still will. You don’t deserve to be worried that your boss is going to— make a move.”

She quirked a brow. “Make a move?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not worried about that and never have been. You care way too much about this team and people in general to make advances at someone who didn’t want them,” she said, scooting an inch closer. “Besides, you made our boundaries clear. You have someone you love, and I know you’re not the cheating type.”

He paused, then let out a heavy sigh, looking anywhere but at her.

“Uh oh,” she said, looking at him curiously. “What nerve did I just hit?”

“I, uh… We broke things off. Beth and I.”

She deflated. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to—“

“No, no,” he waved her off. “It’s okay. It was mutual. Distance has been wearing on us for a while, and honestly neither of us were really feeling it anymore.”

“When did this happen?”

“Last week.”

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “It’s not been as difficult as I thought it would be. Jack has been handling it very well. He told me the other day on the phone that I’m going to find the perfect person one day.”

Hotch smiled at that, finally looking back at her. She smiled back, nodding.

“I’d have to agree with him. He’s got that big old brain from his dad, you know?” she said, nudging him in the arm.

He laughed softly again. “He’s a great kid.”

“The best, arguably.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Can I ask you something?” she said after a beat of silence.

“Anything,” he replied with a brief nod.

“Do you ever say or do the things you want to?”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You just keep so much bottled up. Do you ever let yourself dump it all out?”

He cleared his throat. “On occasion, I suppose.”

She nodded thoughtfully. He watched her, knowing something was stirring in her head.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly.

“Can I slip a secret?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed. “I really, truly wasn’t uncomfortable when you let it slip. The whole jealousy thing.”

“What?”

Hotch’s heart started up again, unsure where she was going with this, but really hoping it went in one direction.

“I know what you were feeling. Like, every time we show up to a new town and half the ladies in the place are staring you down. I get it.”

He let out a breath. “I don’t—“

“If this is like, way too inappropriate for me to say, I’d really appreciate if you didn’t fire me. But, I’ve had a thing for you since my first day on the job. Frankly, these past few weeks have been hell.”

“Y/N…”

“Again I ask that you don’t fire me.”

He chuckled. “I won’t. I— Since your first day?”

“Remember when I couldn’t remember my own name for a minute there at the beginning?”

He hummed. “You were nervous for the interview.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I’ve never been more prepared for an interview. I was nervous that my possible new boss was a smoke show, and it freaked me out even more that he was staring me down the second I walked in the door like I was an unsub.”

He smirked. “A smoke show? Really?”

“As if you don’t know,” she laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I just… I guess I kind of freaked out seeing you. And hearing you talk so passionately about work for the first time. Not to mention the way your voice sounds…”

“Alright, let’s not get carried away,” he said, color rushing into his cheeks.

“It’s also super cute when you blush like that,” she said, squeezing in the last phrase before he could stop her again.

He sat quietly, just taking her in for a moment. She hid a smile, unsure what her next move should be. He cleared his throat.

“So, are you really all that sorry that things with Beth ended?”

“Sorry that it might have hurt you? Yes. Sorry that it’s done? Not really.”

“I see.”

“I also don’t know how excited I should be, considering you could totally blow me off right now and see if sleeping around is your new lifestyle. That might make things worse for me, honestly.”

He laughed. “Oh, yes. Leaving the person who gave me the courage to finally end a serious relationship is at the top of my list.”

Her face dropped. “What?”

He took in a breath, now realizing what he’d just said. A nervous laughter bubbled out of him, his eyes wide.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You broke things off because of me?”

He groaned. “Not fully.”

“Hotch, what the hell,” she said, laughing fully. “What if I was, like, not on board?”

“I didn’t think you were until now. I guess I still thought it was worth it. Plus, like I said, we’ve both been wanting to for a while.”

“Still!”

She laughed, scooting even closer to him. She took his hands in her own, a wild smile on her face as she looked at his bewildered one staring back.

“Are you fully insane?”

He stumbled over words for a moment. “I— I might be.”

She stared at him a moment longer, then decided all of the thinking and overthinking they’d both done was getting ridiculous. If he could act impulsively, so could she.

She leaned forward, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. He stayed still for a moment in shock before responding eagerly. His arms found her waist, and he tugged her into his lap as soon as he could.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

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#luna rises from the dead #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner one shot

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upat4amwiththemoon · 1 year

Note

helloo! could you write high school wandanat x reader where they’re enemies to lovers? wandanat are already a couple. wandanat and r are part of different friend groups in school, and there’s a lot of tension between the two groups, maybe because of a past event. wandanat and r have a class together and are put in a group, forcing them to work together and spend time with each other. eventually the 3 start to become friends, and end up falling for each other

Group project

Summary: Proximity warms hearts.

Pairing: WandaNat x female!reader

Warnings: everyone is a bit mean, cursing, a bit steamy in the end I suppose

Word count: 3186

a/n: I’m sorry I’m not very good at writing enemies to lovers, so I don’t really know what this is

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

“Why are they staring at us?” Kate mumbles as she shoves food into her mouth. “They are like, obsessed or something.”

Y/N glances to the direction Kate is staring at. It’s the popular table. No one really understands what their deal is, they just don’t like people who aren’t part of their group. No one knows if they just think they’re better than everyone or if something happened. But at the end of the day, pretty much all the groups are like that.

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugs, turning back to her lunch. “You look kinda obsessed with them right now.”

Kate looks at Y/N with her mouth open and brows raised. “I am not.”

“Okay.” Y/N mumbles with a slight smile.

“I am not!”

Taking a bite out of her food, Y/N nods slowly, not looking at Kate, but still knowing what kind of look she has in her face. “I heard you.”

Kate humphs, annoyed by the grin on Y/N’s face. She stabs her food and eats as angrily as she can, just to show Y/N the level of annoyance she is at. However, all this just amuses her even more.

“So, you’ll be doing the project with me that Ms Harkness said we’ll do, right?”

“I don’t know anymore.” Kate shrugs. “Maybe I’ll do it with Yelena.”

“Oh, come on. You hate doing school work with Yelena.”

“The only thing she does is slack off.” Dropping her fork to the empty plate, Kate turns to look at Y/N. “I’m doing it with you.”

“Listen up, students!” Ms Harkness claps her hands, quietening down the classroom. “We are trying something different today. I’m going to assign your project’s groups.” The whole class starts groaning and whining, all of them having made plans with their friends already. “I know, I know. This is the ends of the world for you. Anyways,” she takes out a list, “I have the groups written here, so listen closely.”

As Ms Harkness lists off the groups, the students start moving into said groups. The more time goes on without her saying Y/N or Kate’s name, they get excited as the possibility of them being in the same group grows every second.

“Next group. Kate Bishop…” Kate and Y/N’s ears perk up, both waiting anxiously for the latter’s name to appear. “Yelena Belova and Gwen Stacy.”

The two deflate, sending each other disappointed looks before Kate moves from the desk next to Y/N. She looks around the classroom, trying to see which students are still without a group. When she notices everyone but two people with their own groups, her eyes widen.

“And last but not least, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff and Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Shit.” She whispers to herself. With her luck, of course she gets paired up with the couple. Y/N sees them sitting on the dow in front of her, unmoving, so she grabs her bag and makes her way over to them.

She moves a desk bit closer to them, but far enough so it doesn’t touch either of their desks, and sits down. “Now that all of you have your groups, pick a subject and start working on the project. We’ll be doing it this whole class, but after that it’s a thing you have to do on your own time.” Everyone starts groaning again. “I know, I’m horrible. Start working.”

Before Y/N can even think about saying something, Wanda opens her mouth. “We already decided the topic to be how AI was doomed from the start, because they learn from biased people.”

“Okay.” Y/N mumbles. “Uhm, what should I do?”

Natasha shrugs, opening her laptop. “Just look some info on AI. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Nodding silently, Y/N opens her laptop and starts searching any kind of information on AI and its future. She stays quiet the whole class, not finding any openings in Natasha and Wanda’s conversation.

When the class ends, Y/N’s mood is on the floor. She is not feeling good about the project. “We’re going to our dorm after school ends to work on the project, so see you there, I guess.” Wanda says as she puts her things in her bag.

“Where is your dorm?”

Natasha sighs. “Building B, fourth floor, dorm number 405.” She tells in a quick manner, leaving immediately after.

Y/N looks after them with a dumbfounded look until Kate comes up behind her, wrapping her arms around her neck. “How’d it go?”

“Awful.”

Yelena walks to them, laughing mockingly at Y/N’s misfortune. “Our project is going great.”

“That’s because you didn’t do anything.” Kate frowns, letting go of Y/N’s neck only to lock their arms together. “Me and Gwen did all the work so far. Your contribution was whining.”

Yelena shrugs, following the two as they start walking to their next class. The three are tight together, though out of the two Kate and Y/N are clearly like sisters, because while Yelena has other friends, the pair have stuck together their whole life.

Y/N giggles quietly at their squabbling. They never seemed to agree on anything, but that was just their way of showing that they care about each other.

“Well, at least I don’t have Yelena on my group.”

Scoffing, Yelena punches Y/N’s side lightly.

Standing in front of the dorm room 405, Y/N takes a deep breath. She’s holding one of her fists up in the air, ready to knock. Music can be heard through the door. Wanda and Natasha are already there.

She knocks.

The music quietens down and Wanda opens the door. She says nothing when she sees Y/N, only widens the gap so she can step inside.

“Hi.” Y/N mumbles, almost too quiet for the two to hear. She looks around the room. The two single beds have been pushed together to form one big bed to the left side. There’s a bookcase on the end of it and two desks against the opposite wall.

The floor is neat, it only has a rug on it, but the walls are full of decorations. There’s pictures of people from the school and celebrities, posters of different movies and artists, even some vinyls are pinned to them.

Y/N clears her throat as Wanda goes back to sitting by the desk, right next to Natasha. “Cool room.”

Natasha nods in acknowledgment. Wanda did most of the decorating, but she likes it too. “We don’t have any more chairs, so, like sit on the floor or something.”

Too tired to fight against it, Y/N sits on the floor and takes out her things. “Me and Nat already started on our slides, we thought it’d be best to just do them individually.”

“Okay.”

And so, they start working on the project. Like during the class, Wanda and Natasha discuss points together, while Y/N stays quiet and does her own thing. It’s uncomfortable, but she’s not about to start a conversation with the two.

It goes like this for the next three meetings.

Y/N’s head is laying on the cafeteria table. She’s not feeling too good and the loud conversation going on isn’t helping at all. “Shut up.” The words come out more quiet than she wanted to.

Someone’s hand goes to her neck. “You’re really hot.” Kate frowns.

“Thanks.”

Kate groans and Yelena laughs. With a roll of her eyes, Kate ignores the comment. “I’m serious. Should you even be in school right now?”

“I can’t miss anything, plus I have to go work on the project today.”

“Can’t you skip this one time? I’m sure they won’t mind.” Kate’s hand goes to lay on Y/N’s back, rubbing it softly to bring some comfort.

Y/N scoffs. “Have you seen how they look at me? They’d kill me if I didn’t show up.”

“Well,” Kate cringes, “yeah. Probably.”

“Why do you care?” Yelena speaks up. “You’re a hard worker. You deserve a break, especially when you’re sick.”

“I don’t have time to be sick. Gotta keep my grades high.”

Yelena shakes her head. “You’re crazy.” She mumbles, going back to her lunch.

Once again, Y/N is knocking on Wanda and Natasha’s door. Her nose is stuffed and there’s loud bounding in her head, but she tries her best to ignore it.

Natasha opens the door and lets her in before going back to her seat. It’s the same as it has always been, Natasha and Wanda sitting beside their desks, while Y/N is on the floor.

Y/N isn’t sure if time is moving fast or slow, or if it’s moving at all. She feels like she has been writing forever, but the small clock on the bottom of her laptop screen hasn’t moved in ages. The conversation going on between Natasha and Wanda is muffled. It sounds like they’re much further away than they truly are.

She has been breathing through her mouth for some time, as her nose isn’t letting any air through. Leaning her head against her open palm, Y/N closes her eyes, just for a moment.

“Y/N?” Someone is shaking her shoulder. They’re doing it gently, but to Y/N it feels like her whole body is going through turmoil. “Did you fall asleep?”

Opening her eyes, Y/N sees Wanda in front of her. “Uhm,” she looks around the surroundings, catching up her brain on what’s going on, “no?” She mumbles.

Natasha furrows her brows together. She’s still sitting on her chair, but her attention is fully on Y/N. “Are you okay?”

“I am, yes, sorry.” Lifting up her head, Y/N shakes it to wake herself up. “Sorry.”

The back of Wanda’s hand goes to lay on Y/N’s forehead. It should be surprising, but her brain is too foggy to register it. “I think she’s sick.” Wanda turns to look at Natasha, talking to her rather than half awake Y/N. “Like really sick.”

“Do we have a thermostat?” Natasha mumbles, going to look for one in their bathroom. As she finds it, she brings it to Wanda and crouches down next to her.

Wanda presses on Y/N’s jaw to open her mouth and stick the thermostat under her tongue. Y/N grumbles at the feeling of it, but lets it be there.

When the thermostat beeps, Wanda takes it out, frowning at the number on it. “She has a fever.”

“I’m fine, you guys.” Y/N rubs her forehead, hoping it’ll lessen some of the pressure. “Lets keep working on the project.”

“No.” Natasha glances at the laptop screen, it’s showing the project’s slide show. “You have spelled every other word incorrectly.”

Humming, Y/N squints her eyes to look at the small words on the screen. She frowns as the words don’t come any clearer, realizing she must be sicker than she thought.

“What are we supposed to do?”

“Where are your friends?”

“Kate and Yelena are working on their project in the library in town, I think.” Y/N starts coughing. It racks up her whole body and hurts her throat. She misses the way Natasha and Wanda look at each other.

Wanda helps Y/N up while Natasha cleans up her things. She brings her to their bed, moving the cover so she’s laying under it. “Go to sleep.” She mumbles.

Natasha and Wanda stay by the bed next to Y/N until evening, when Kate comes knocking on their door, worried when Y/N still hasn’t come back to their dorm.

Over a week goes by, during which Y/N heals properly and starts working on the project again. However, after being sick, Natasha and Wanda have started to sit on the floor with Y/N, and even engage in conversations with her.

Now that her mind wasn’t so foggy, she started to notice the little things. Sometimes the couple looked at each other with a certain look when they were with her, it wasn’t bad, so to say, but Y/N doesn’t know what it is. And sometimes their eyes linger on her just a bit too long for it to be considered normal.

Although, all these things make her wonder what it all means, she ignores it all. Or at least tries to.

“Hey, Y/N.” Wanda’s hand sets on Y/N’s shoulder

Kate’s eyes are wide as she watches Y/N turn to Wanda and Natasha. “Yup?” It feels weird to have someone like Wanda touch her, still, she puts on her best smile and tries not to reveal how tense she is.

“We though we should finish the project today, so we can have the weekend free. Is that okay?”

It’s the first time they ask her opinion on their plans.

“Sure.”

Natasha smiles, grabbing Wanda’s hand. “Great, see you later.” The two walk away.

Kate stares at Y/N with an open mouth. She leans closer to her to whisper yell. “They totally have the hots for you!” She laughs quietly, so the other people in the library wouldn’t hear her.

“What?” Y/N’s brows scrunch together as her whole face turns into a grimace. “No they don’t! Are you crazy?”

“Oh, come on. Did you not see they way they were looking at you?” Kate gasps, looking at the book she is currently in the middle of. “This is the perfect lesbian, enemies to lovers story!”

“No, Kate, I’m not in one of your spicy sapphic books.”

Kate raises her brows, glancing at the cover of her book. “You could be.” She mumbles with a shrug. She is pretty sure Y/N looks just like one of the main characters on the book cover, but she denies it every time. Glancing at the clock, she grins. “You better go get ready to go to their dorm and have hot, hot sex with them.” Kate whispers the last part of the sentence.

Y/N stands up with a huff. “I am not going to have hot sex with them!” She says it just a bit too loudly, making someone on the next table turn to look at them. “I’m not having sex with anyone!” Grabbing her bag, Y/N walks out of the library while Kate giggles after her.

Natasha opens the door with a small grin. “Come on in.” Y/N smiles and steps in, sitting to the floor where Wanda is already. She takes out her laptop, getting it ready for working. Natasha sits right next to her, which makes Y/N freeze momentarily.

“Do you usually work even when you’re sick?” Wanda asks suddenly. They haven’t really discussed what happened that day yet, not that Y/N really wanted to talk about it. She’s still mortified that happened. She nods quietly, making Wanda frown. “You really shouldn’t.”

Y/N shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“No.” Wanda says quite assertively. “Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, okay..” Y/N doesn’t know why Wanda is being so…worried, she also doesn’t know why she is agreeing with her. She misses the shared smirk between Wanda and Natasha, turning to her work instead, so she could escape the overwhelming feeling.

They start working on the project, only having two slides left to do. They swap ideas and talk through their points. Y/N actually feels good with them. They’re nice now that they are including her.

It only takes them thirty minutes to finish the project, mostly because Natasha and Wanda hurried it for some reason.

“So,” Wanda starts as they pack away their things, “do you want to stay here for a while?”

Tilting her head, Y/N closes her bag. “Do you want me to stay?” Her question comes out very doubtful.

“Of course, детка.” Natasha’s voice is right by her ear, it makes Y/N shiver. “Why are you so nervous?” She can hear the teasing tone behind her words. Natasha’s hand goes to Y/N’s back, just staying there innocently, though it feels anything but.

Before she can answer, Wanda moves closer to put her hand on Y/N’s bare knee. “You don’t have to be nervous with us, you know that, right?” Her thumb rubs it lightly, happy that Y/N decided to wear a short skirt today.

“Right.” Mumbling, Y/N stares at the hand on her knee intensely. The touch makes her skin feel hot and tingly.

Wanda’s hand travel up to her hip, while Natasha’s goes under Y/N’s shirt. Natasha’s cold hand makes her gasp quietly.

“Can I kiss you?” Wanda’s voice is breathy and sultry.

“I guess.” Y/N’s voice is quiet and anxious, her mind is going everywhere at once and she still isn’t 100% sure if this all is actually happening.

Tutting, Wanda shakes her head. “It’s a yes or no question, sweetheart.”

“Yes.”

Wanda grins. “Good girl.” Her hand goes to Y/N’s neck, pulling her closer to kiss her. It’s soft, but still dominant on Wanda’s side. Natasha starts nipping Y/N neck gently, now moving both of her hands up her shirt.

“Holy shit.” Y/N mumbles when Wanda’s mouth moves from her lips down to her collarbone.

Seeing the opening, Natasha combs her fingers through her hair, gripping it and pulling her head back. She smirks at Y/N’s expression before taking her turn in kissing her. Natasha’s lips are more rough, but it still feels out of this world.

When Natasha pulls away, one of her hands go to rest on Y/N’s throat, while the other wraps around her waist and pulls her close, so Y/N’s back is against her chest.

“Fuck.” Natasha grumbles. “You are so hot.”

All the attention on her is making Y/N feel extremely warm. Her breathing is ragged as Wanda’s hands go under her shirt and up her chest. “We like to be a bit rough, but you don’t mind that, do you?” Wanda looks at Y/N with a grin, holding eye contact with her.

“I don’t mind.”

“Good.” With that, Wanda rips Y/N’s shirt open.

“You had hot sex with them!” Kate squeals right as Y/N steps inside their dorm. “I knew it.” Y/N shushes her, slamming the door closed so no one in the hallway could hear her. “I can’t even be mad at them anymore. Are you like, theirs now?”

“I’m no ones.”

Kate stares at the hickeys littered all over Y/N’s neck and the hoodie, that definitely isn’t hers. “They definitely think you are.” She can’t even keep her giggles in as Y/N shuffles over to her bed, tired by what happened. “They really did a number on you.”

With a loud groan, Y/N throws her pillow blindly towards Kate, who dodges it easily.

“I can’t wait to tell Yelena.”

“Don’t you dare!” But it’s no use, Kate is already out the door.

Y/N sighs, laying her head to the, now pillow-less, mattress. Closing her eyes, she lets a giddy smile come over her face.

She’s definitely theirs now.

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underground-secret · 3 months

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean

Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is haunted by a vision of a woman trapped in his childhood house

Warning: cannon violence, tension/ minor flirting, slight angst and comfort, mentions of death, mentions of a dead parent, the use of witchcraft that isn't exactly apart of Supernatural lore but does have ties to many folklore's interpretations of a witches capability from European Folklore to Appalachian Folk Magic and many more (i used a mix of different lore to create my own interpretation) this took so long to research, l also was testing things out in my apartment so i'd be able to write it properly- literally rearranging furniture for it

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld ,

@okayiamkassandra, @fablerose , @ada--44

Word Count: 12,947

Home

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch.)

I stumble into the boys motel room, stifling a yawn from passing through my lips. Did I wake up two hours ago and refuse to get out of the stiff motel bed instead of coming to meet my lovely friends in their room?

Yes!

“Good morning my little stabby hunters” I greet cheerfully, closing and locking the door behind me. Sam mumbles some incoherent version of a greeting from where he sat on his bed while Dean looks up from Sam’s laptop, “Mornin’ sweetheart”

I walk up to each boy individually giving their hair a nice ruffle before shuffling my way to sit criss-cross applesauce on the unoccupied bed. “You had perfect timing ‘cause I think I found a few candidates for our next gig.”

“Oooh how fun” I half sarcastically say, “read ‘em out!”

“Alright we got a fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali” I nod pretending to know what a ‘trawler’ is, “ –-its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Dean lists out looking up every now and then for a reaction, “Hey. Sammy.” He calls out to his brother who’s sat drawing something on a little notepad.

Sam looks up, giving Dean an annoyed look waiting for what he has to say. Dean leans back in his chair, “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.” Sam declares, going right back to his drawing. He was in fact not paying attention.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” He stops speaking again, waving his hand in the air intended to get his brother's attention, “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam suddenly sits up fully, “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” I ask, Dean and I sharing a confused look. But Sam doesn't answer, he just crosses the room towards his duffel bag, searching for something. “What are you doing?” Dean asks. Again Sam doesn't answer, finally finding whatever he was looking for he pauses studying the two things in his hands, he swiftly turns around “I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean muses, asking the question were both thinking.

“Back home –- back to Kansas” Sam breathes, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

Sam shows the thing he took out of his bag, a photo, to his brother, I get up to view it too. “All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?” Sam asks, looking between the sort of family photo taken in front of their house and his brother.

“Yeah.” Dean answers plainly.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” Sam asks further.

“Yeah it took ‘em a while to, I think it was mostly out of respect because no one ever moved in after you either, as far as I know.” I answer only knowing because I lived in town even after they moved away.

“Okay, well, someone lives there now…and, I, uh, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger.” Sam stammers

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks the obvious question. “Uh…it’s just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?” He starts to walk away to the other side of the room, Dean following suit, “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”

The fighting begins, I think to myself as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I knew Dean would probably act harsher then he meant to, his mom—his old house being a very rough topic for him.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to answer simply, “Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that.” Dean raises his voice slightly.

“I can’t really explain it is all” Sam says looking around the room instead of making eye contact.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do” Dean crosses his arms waiting expectantly.

Sam sighs, “I have these nightmares.”

“I’ve noticed” Dean says while nodding and I want to step in and lecture him for coming off so mean, but I bite my tongue.

“And sometimes…” Sam pauses for a while before continuing, “…they come true.” This time I don’t bite my tongue, the word slipping out of my lips out of pure shock, “Sam” I gasp. “Come again?” Dean says almost at the same time as my gasp.

“Look….I dreamt about Jessica’s death –- for days before it happened.” Sam tries to explain further, nearly getting cut off by his brother, “Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” I know Dean doesn't want to believe it, I know he’s scared of what this could mean. But I can’t help but feel this is like the argument Dean had started on my twelfth birthday, all those years ago. It felt especially silly to feel this way now, not when I never held a grudge against him because of it. Maybe I should have but I could never find it within myself to do so.

Dean sits down on one of the beds and it’s clear he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sam begins to explain himself more, which I hate the fact he has to, “No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t know.” Dean huffs out. It’s clear he’s overwhelmed, which is a significantly better reaction than what I got to his whole realization of what I really was—a witch—despite the fact he already knew that. I want to respect their relationship and not speak when it’s not my right to, and yet if it comes down to it I know I will. I won’t let their relationship fall apart because of this, I won’t let a hatred form between them. Let alone like how Dean had hated me for months and I had hated myself too.

“I-it can mean something. There's a lot of cultures that believe that dreams are capable of showing the future as a guidance or even as a warning. Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks, they all believed in this; it's,um, called oneiromancy.” I pipe in quietly as if scared that saying it too loud would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Sam was looking at me with big eyes like he was hanging on to each word I spoke, nodding along.

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” Dean stands abruptly beginning to pace the carpeted floor, “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” Sam asks carefully.

Dean sounds on the verge of tears, probably the most vulnerable he’s been in a long time, “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?” The air, the atmosphere itself, felt fragile then too as if something so palpable had to be careful of where it stood

Sam begins softly, his eyes scrunched in a mix of worry and sympathy, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

“I know we do.” Dean nods, his head hung low.

The Impala pulls up in front of the old Winchester house, the cute little two story green house standing there simply. I can’t help but wonder if in a hundred years these people who lived in Lawrence would know what happened here? The family that was lost here? Maybe not physically but you can trace everything back to this simple house, where these boys lost a piece of themselves no matter how young they were. You can still feel it in the air now, in this car with Dean's head hung low as he peers up at his old house, the only and last house he’s ever had.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asks, trying to catch his brother's eyes. Dean swallow’s thickly, “Let me get back to you on that.” We exit the safety of the car and with each step forward the weight of this settles on our shoulders, the realness of this all. I know this isn’t about me, but if I let my mind stop focusing on the task at hand I know that it will wisp away to my old house. Just on the other side of town, to every moment I spent wandering the streets with no where particular in mind-

A sharp knocking on the front door snaps me out of my mind. A pretty blonde opens the door, her eyebrows scrunched in what seems like stress, “Yes?” she answers.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—“ Dean begins his lie getting cut off by his brother, “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, and our friend Y/N. My brother and I, uh, we used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She laughs lightly. Dean's face drops a little, a mix of curiosity and longing on his face that if I hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t known him so well I wouldn’t have recognized it. “You did?” he asks, and I'd have to think it was a look of longing for his life back then, before he lost his mom, to a life that was so simple and child-like because that might have been the only time he really was a child.

She nods and steps aside, “Come on in.” The inside of the house wasn’t so much different from what I’ve been told about it, she shuts and locks the door behind us and we wait for her to lead us further in before moving. “I’m Jenny by the way” she says moving past us. She leads us into the big kitchen, a young girl doing homework at the table while an adorable jumpy toddler bounces in his little playpen, I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face at the sight.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” The toddler chants, bouncing as he speaks.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie.” She introduces going over to the fridge, taking out a sippy cup and handing it to the bouncy baby. “He has good taste” I laugh, the kid being just so freaking adorable.

Jenny walks over to her daughter, “Sari, this is Sam and Dean, they used to live here. And that’s their friend Y/n.” I smile at the girl who greets us with a small “Hi.” Dean for some reason waved awkwardly at the child, as if he doesn't know how to act around kids when that’s so far from the truth.

“Hey, Sari.” Sam smiles before allowing her to get back to her homework.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asks, jumping right to it. “Yeah, from Wichita.” Jenny answers, referring to a different part of Kansas.

“You got family here, or….?” Dean continues to ask, and honestly it’s kind of a creepy question. She answers a little hesitantly, “No. I just, uh….needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job –- I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“Do you like it here?” I ask genuinely. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home” She starts looking at the boys as she speaks, “…I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here…but this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks almost a little too quickly.

Jenny sighs, “Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“I think that’s an easy fix” I try to remain hopeful, it’s not like we can just tell her ‘oh yeah that’s ‘cause your house is probably haunted by a demon or something.’ And under the assumption that it was just faulty wiring, I really wasn’t sure if it was an easy fix. I mean I am no electrician.

“Anything else?” Dean adds in.

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She lists off before pausing for a beat, looking between us nervously, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.” Dean looks a little taken back by this concern, because what was written on his face was far from offense, “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

“It’s just the scratching, actually.” She answers.

“Mom?” Sari calls out lightly, Jenny kneels down to her daughter waiting for her to continue, “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asks, confused.

“The thing in my closet.” She answers weakly, and I swear my heart broke a little at the way in which she said it.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny answers softly, reminding me of my mothers soft tone when she spoke to us. Jenny looks up at the boys, “Right?”

Sam stumbles over his words as he answers, “Right. No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night.” Jenny explains, a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Sari shakes her head, “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom –- and it was on fire.”

Uh oh.

~~~~~~~~

“You hear that? A figure on fire.” Sam whisper-shouts, mainly to his brother who was walking a little too quickly then necessary to his car. The man in question turns around swiftly, “And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?”

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.” Sam bites back.

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true.” Dean snaps.

Sam’s eyes were wide with panic, “Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean snaps.

Back and forth they fight like two dogs having a barking match from just over the fence. “Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam starts again.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will.”

“No, I mean now.”

“And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she’s gonna believe?”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Both of you, stop!” I nearly shout, both boys going quiet, “Look” I sigh. “I get this is scary and all but you two bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere! And if we want to help that nice family we have to think logically. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, maybe it’s something else or maybe we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that it is that monster.

Either way we can’t just run into this with assumptions or lead on feeling alone, okay? ‘Cause that’s how we mess up and wind up dead and I don’t know ‘bout you boys but i’m not quite craving the taste of death just yet.” I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, let’s pretend this is any ol’ case, any other hunt. What do we do first?”

“Research” Dean mumbles as if he was a kid who got caught doing something wrong, which arguably isn’t so far from the truth.

“Check our bases, dig into the history” Sam adds.

“Exactly” I smile, “Good job”

Dean opens the driver seat door, getting in as he speaks, “Except this time, we already know what happened.”

Sam and I followed suit, “Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?” he asks. Dean looks around a little uncomfortable, “About that night, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire…the heat.” He pauses, “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam asks surprised.

Dean scuffs, starting the car and pulling out of the spot, “Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head, “No.”

Dean continues, “And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?” Sam questions further, and up until now I didn’t realize how much he was kept in the dark about such a significant moment in his life.

Dean shrugs, “If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.” Sam starts again, “Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

Dean again looks around uncomfortably, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, “Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam notices this obvious movement like I did and pauses for a moment, you could see the gears turning in his head, “Does this feel like just another job to you?” Dean clears his throat, suddenly jerking the car off to the left side of the road right up to the curb, the car poorly parked, “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” The second he finishes his sentence he’s out of the car and walking away into some local business that I couldn’t quite see the name of.

“I- I don’t understand him” Sam suddenly says as he watches his brother leave, turning in the passenger seat to talk to me properly, “It would be so much easier if he just…” He sighs, “talked to me.”

“I… don’t want to excuse his actions because you are right, but at the same time you know he was never taught how to be vulnerable.” I try to explain, carefully choosing my words knowing there were eggshells surrounding our feet. He then mumbles something incoherently about their childhood, he looks back up at me, “you know, you don’t really talk about your childhood either.”

“Maybe it’s just something about Kansas” I joke, he laughs lowly, “But I ,uh, I would like to tell you about it…someday…” I offer shyly, trying to offer him something in a moment where he has nothing

“I’d like that, at least I could get closer to one of you” Sam smiles, sadly.

“Hey and maybe it will open the door to encourage Dean to speak up” I say.

“Yeah you know that’s not gonna happen” He scuffs.

“Well, I was trying to be a little optimistic.”

When Dean came back to the car he was dead quiet, his eyes were glossy but he refused to talk. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not one bit.

Sitting in the back of the Impala, I watched the buildings and trees pass by. All blocks I was familiar with even if it was far from where I had actually lived, but when you're lonely you tend to find walking for an eternity isn’t so bad. Funnily enough, sitting in the back of this car felt eerily similar to when I was a child, my dad as quiet as an owl, a then changed man having lost his world. Only, he had forgotten my brother and I had lost her too, and that we were still around to begin with.

Dean stared at the road like my dad had all those years ago, so deeply as if they were to look away it would disappear right beneath them. Then Sam sat in the passenger seat looking between his brother and out the window not knowing what to say, like my brother always did. And I of course still played the same role because some things never change, some feelings never do fully leave.

Dean suddenly clears his throat, “Alright, up ahead is an old pal of dads.” Just as suddenly as he said it, he also hadn’t given us time to say anything before pulling over once more, this time in front of a mechanic's place. A sign reading “Guenther’s Auto Repair” in big red letters hung above a large garage unit. The smell of metal and grease breeze by my nose as I exit the car, following after the two taller men with what I thought was a forgotten sadness now back. I can’t imagine how they must feel, how Dean must feel.

They effortlessly found and began a discussion with the owner, easily lying about being cops which felt especially wrong today. It felt wrong to lie to anyone from the town I pretty much grew up in, even if I never knew any of them.

“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asks the older man. I knew their father was a mechanic but hadn’t known he had his own garage and partner.

“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh…twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?” He says, whipping his dirty hands on a rag stained with car grease.

“Oh, we’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of ‘em.” Dean answers smoothly, and I guess it isn’t technically a lie either. He accepts the answer with no further, visible, speculation, “Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?”

“Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind.” Dean suggests.

“Well…he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that.” He laughs. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.” To that I have to stop myself from reacting, for some reason I can’t picture John being anything less of what he is now, in terms of strictness and toughness.

“But that was before the fire?” Sam points out.

He nods, “That’s right.”

“He ever talk about that night?” Sam adds. He seems to think for a moment, “No, not at first. I think he was in shock.”

“Right. But eventually? What did he say about it?” Sam clarifies.

“Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”

“He ever say what did it?” Dean asks this time.

“Nothin’ did it. It was an accident –- an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’. I begged him to get some help, but….” He explains.

“But what?”

“Oh, he just got worse and worse.” He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

“How?” Dean asks carefully.

“He started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.” He says, suddenly catching my attention, an air of familiarity surrounding it.

“Palm reader? Uh, do you have a name?” Dean questions. I scrunch my eyebrows together trying to remember why this was familiar.

He responds at the same time it suddenly hits me, “No” he scuffs.

The name leaves my mouth in quiet thought, “Missouri Moseley.”

All three of them look at me strangely, before Dean grabs hold of my upper arm, throwing the man a smile and a “Excuse us.” He begins pulling me away from the garage and back to the car, his brother following after us after he had thanked the man.

“Where’d you get that name from?” Dean asks me sternly, looking down at me with sharp curious eyes, his grip on my arm never faulting.

I look up at him, his green eyes piercing mine, expectantly, but I find myself at a loss for words. Each syllable ready to be spoken but dying on my tongue, all in the fault of once more feeling like my younger self. Sam reaches for his brother's shoulder, almost pulling him away from me, “Ease up, Dean.” He shakes his brother off, but listens, releasing my arm and swallowing thickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay” I cut him off quickly. I wasn’t scared of him at that moment, but of the past and I knew he was too. We all were.

“I remember your dad came over and mentioned that name, along with her being the real deal. I just don’t remember what the conversation was about, I mean it had to be years ago…” I feel my eyebrows scrunch together again as I try to recall more, glimpses of the memory popping up. Our dads sitting on the long vintage couches my mom had bought for the house while me and my brother ran outside to play, “It was at the original house, m-maybe a year before we moved to Kansas.”

“So three years after mom died” Sam nods.

“Yeah that seems about right, but I’m not sure if that encounter was like right after your dad met this Missouri or some time after.” I add

“It sounds familiar. '' Dean breathed out before rounding the car to the trunk, digging through it before pulling out the journal. “In Dad’s journal…here, look at this.” He flips it open, handing it off to his brother, “First page, first sentence, read that.”

Sam takes the book, reading the sentence out loud, “I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Deans shrugs.

Missouri’s house was a cute little two story place. I admire the light brown wood paneling and stained glass windows, something I knew my mom would have loved. Dean and Sam sat squished together on a small couch, all of us waiting for her to be finished with her client. I choose to stand, not only to see them both quietly fight to sit on the couch but also to slightly look around the place without wandering around.

A round faced, warm brown skinned lady with big curly hair tied back in a ponytail escorts a man out of her house, “All right, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She tells him, her voice a natural soft and sweet tone, accompanied with a southern accent.

She closes the front door behind him, turning to face us, “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.” Her sweet voice does nothing to soften her blunt statement, my eyes go wide with the comment.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks her,

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news.” She answers simply, causing the room to fall quiet for a beat, “Well? Y/n, Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She leaves the room, I follow after her only pausing when I realize the boys weren’t following. I turn back towards them waving them over, they share a look before getting up and following.

“Well, lemme look at ya.” She laughs, “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She points a finger at Dean, “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” A burst of laughter slips through my lips before I can control myself, his face falls and he glares at her.

Her gaze turns to me, my laughter dying out but a permanent smile left on my face, “Oh, you never lost your beauty” She smiles.

“You knew me when I was younger?” I ask, confused.

“Well of course, I knew your mother. Bless her soul” She answers, only leaving me more confused ‘cause my mom never mentioned her and I would sure remember such a sweet and funny woman.

“We helped each other out back then”, she explains, “She would always show me pictures of you and your brother. You were always a smiley girl, it’s good to see you didn’t lose that. Your mother would be glad too.” A warmth blossoms in my heart at that, my smile softens with me and it was like something I didn’t even know was within was fulfilled. It was hard to find new memories of my mom when I really didn’t know anyone who had known her, other than our family, to ask. Missouri hadn’t given me a full in depth memory and yet, it was enough. Enough to know someone else clearly adored my mom and had seen her in the same light I did. I don’t know why my mom never told us about her, but for some reason I didn’t feel the need to ask.

She gives me one last smile before giving her attention to Sam, she grabs his hand, her face falling, “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” A wave of shock clearly passes over the boys face, “And your father –- he’s missin’?” she continued.

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asks, clearly forgetting she is a psychic.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.” She explains.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean rapidly spews out.

She half shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” He snaps back, far too hostile.

She gives him a weird look, “Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air.” A laugh passes through my lips before I could stop myself, I nudge Dean's shoulder who glares sharply at me before turning that look to Missouri, only furthering my spits of giggles that I try to bite back.

Her demeanor changes back to gentle, “Sit, please.” We listen to her, I took a seat beside Sam so that I wasn’t squished between both boys. Missouri suddenly snaps at Dean, “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean argues, his voice seemingly an octave higher- like a child.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.” She answers.

“Oh, I like you” I say through my laughter, it was quite the breath of fresh air to see someone put gruff ‘macho man’ Dean in his place.

Sam gets back on topic, whipping the smile that formed on his face, “Okay. So, our dad –- when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say…I drew back the curtains for him.” She responds.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean asks.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing” She explains.

“And could you?” Sam asks

She shakes her head, “I…”

“What was it?”

She answers softly, “I don’t know. Oh, but it was evil.”, She pauses for a beat, “So…you think somethin’ is back in that house?”

“Definitely” Sam breathes.

She shakes her head again, “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” She explains.

“I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something’s starting.” Sam says, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean mumbles.

~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to the Winchesters house was the light in this complex time. The entire ride Missouri lectured Dean on his driving saying he was just a little too reckless and was gonna get us all killed despite it being a generally short one. They bickered back and forth a while until Dean gave up grumbling something below his breath, causing another snap response from the woman herself.

When we finally arrived Dean quickly got out of the car before anyone else could even register being parked, I genuinely don’t think I've ever seen him happy to be out of Baby. He had very obviously, and purposefully, positioned himself so that he was standing next to me away from Missouri, in fact two people away as she stood on the other side of Sammy. I searched for Dean's hand, my fingers brushed against his larger rougher hand. I clasped it gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze to hopefully ease his tension, caused by the beef he had with the nice lady that was helping us to begin with, even though I most definitely found the whole thing hilarious. Just as Sam knocked on the door I released Dean's hand, bringing both my hands to clasp in front of me. A peak of nervousness rests in my gut as I feel his gaze on me, I ignore it, focusing my eyes forward while I rock on the balls of my feet.

Jenny answers the door, her blond hair messy and clear stress present in the crinkled corner of her eyes and worry etched into her pupils. She holds her baby, Ritchie, close to her chest, “Sam, Dean, Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Sam smiles at the blond, “Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake” Dean chimes in.

She scrunches her nose, “You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.”

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain before Missouri smacks him hard on the back of the head, far harder than I ever do, “Ow!” He yelps, turning around swiftly towards the shorter woman, “How did you-!” He nearly yells holding the back of his head. He looks at her with big wild eyes, his yelling coming from the fact she was able to quietly get behind Sam and I to hit him.

Missouri cuts him off, “Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She then turns to Jenny, “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.” Dean looks further stunned.

“About what?” Jenny asks, adjusting her hold on her kid.

“About this house.” Missouri answers.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny looks between us all, nervously.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Missouri says.

“Who are you?” Jenny asks just above a whisper.

“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.” Missouri smiles comfortingly but even so Jenny looks unsure.

She seems to go over it in her head before finally sighing, “Alright.”

The four of us stand in Sari’s bedroom, Jenny having given us room to do what we need to while she waits downstairs with her kids. Sari’s room was a dark blue, a contrast to her pink and white furniture and toys.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.” Missouri states, looking around the room carefully from where she stood.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” She answers, looking around the room. Dean pulls out his DIY EMF from the inside of his coat pocket, “That an EMF?” Missouri asks.

“Yeah.” Dean smiles smugly.

“Amateur.” Missouri says lowly, I don’t know why she was targeting Dean specifically but his reaction to her was too amusing to really ponder it.

The EMF beeps frantically, “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.” Missouri announces.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asks frantically, getting a confident nod, “How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.” She answers, pausing for a beat before adding, “Can you feel it Y/N?”

My eyes widened in shock, “I’m sorry what?”

“You still got a lot to learn ‘bout your abilities'' She responds waving me over, “c’mere, you might be able to sense the energy.”

I hesitantly place my bag down before slowly walking over to her, she either senses my nervousness or reads my mind because she explains what she means, “Witches tend to have the best intuition and connection to the natural world, you should be able to sense energies especially spiritual ones with a second sight.”

She situates me in front of her with my back towards her, her hands clasp my arms tightly as they rest at my side. “Close your eyes, and just like meditation let everythin’ else fall away.”

I follow her instructions, my eyes fluttering shut reluctantly. I feel incredibly silly as I take a deep breath, the sage-y perfume of the woman behind me filling my nose. I breathe out slowly, forcing my mind to shut out the real world, which isn’t as hard as it should be with the quiet room and my nearly regular meditating. Complete darkness surrounds me as if the room itself had fallen away with all the people in it too, just me floating in an abyss.

I focused more closely on the house itself, extending my awareness far out to the block and then as if a dark fog hugged it I zeroed in on the house. Using my conscious self I pictured what it was like to walk through the house this time with a deep focus and new eyes.

With each step I ventured further into the house cautiously, a buzzing feeling rang through the house like when two strong magnets fight for equilibrium with a clatter. But despite the buzzing a physical warm glow emitted from the home's edges and like a hand reaching out it tried to conquer more of the house, yet it couldn’t. A force I couldn't quite tell held it back. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall, a cold chill running down my spine, I shrugged it off as I walked back up the stairs and down the hall to my physical self.

My foot only breached the doorway when a dreadful feeling filled the halls as if rooted beneath the wallpaper, a twinge of fear made its home in my stomach. I had never done this before, never went into my mind to feel the very things I hunt. I have no experience here, this is not my domain. They must know that as hushed murmurs fluttered around me with voices I couldn’t detect but knew they didn’t belong to anyone in the room. They wouldn’t be able to talk to me here so normally, maybe Missouri but certainly not Sam or Dean.

The murmurs became louder, each whisper jumbled over the next, talking over each other to the point of no recognition. My back hits the hard archway of the door's entrance, the sheer loudness of combined voices knocking me off balance. I braced myself against the door, nails biting into wood, my eyes shut tightly in effort to focus even further.

An unfamiliar cold hand brushes my forearm dragging its fingers up to my elbow as if standing beside me, I swiftly turn around backing up a few feet to see nothing near me. Another brush touches me, this time the back of my neck accompanied by a hot breath fanning by my ear. I don’t move away. this is not my domain, but it will be, and I will not show fear now. Latin spews from its mouth flowing right into my ear, a simple teasing statement, “Another toy.”

My eyes shoot open, pupils blown wide as my eyes adjust to the lighting as well as my mind being back in focus of the physical realm. My heart beats harshly against my chest, my lungs heaving with adrenaline.

A large hand clasps around my upper arm tightly, I nearly stumble back a step before my mind finally catches up with the present. “What is it?” Dean spews out quickly, his green eyes nearly crazed with worry.

I open my mouth to answer only to have Missouri answer for me instead, “You saw them.”

“F-felt more like” I stammer the feeling of its touch still lingering.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks, looking between Missouri and I for answers, his hand still on my arm. Thing is I don’t have an answer, all that creepy spirit touching and I still don’t know everything.

But of course Missouri does, “They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“This house buzzes with energy, literally you can feel it attracting paranormal energy. There’s two here right now…ones in the room. My head turns towards the closet, “A poltergeist. I’m not sure if it sees it as a game or what but I think it wants Jenny and her kids dead.” I know I’m right when Missouri nods her head.

“You both said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.” Missouri answers before adding, “You pick up anythin’”

“Only that it felt…good, if that makes sense. It was very different from the other. It was like this warmth trying to consume the house or really rid the house of its evil.” I answer by trying to make sense of everything that I have experienced.

“You’re sure of this?” Dean asks me, gaining my attention again by squeezing my arm before finally letting go.

“Yes.” I breathe simply, failing to explain that my only other hunch was the fact that it hadn’t been bothering me or I suppose terrorizing me like the poltergeist had with its touching.

A hard determined look sharpens on Dean's face, “Well, one thing’s for damn sure –- nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

“We’re gonna cleanse the house” Missouri answers simply, “Y/N, what you have in that bag of yours?”

A devilish smirk stretches itself on my face, “You wanna do purifying bags?” I ask back instead of answering. I walk back over to my discarded bag picking it up and swinging it over my shoulder, “Let’s do this downstairs, don’t want to make a mess in the kids room” Missouri says, answering my question without really answering it.

“Copy” I smile, taking the lead as we exit the room. With a sudden need for my specialty I found a new pep in my step as I quickly descended the stairs beelining for the nearest table. I carefully placed my bag down on the dining room table, pulling out my spell book marked and written in along with small corked glass bottles of different roots and herbs I carry. “When did you put all of this in your bag?” Sam asks, picking up a vial of crossroad dirt.

“Before I left with Dean to come get you, ‘cause you never know when you're gonna have to put together a spell or a potion of sorts” I answer, pulling out a couple empty small brown pouches.

“So you’ve been carrying this ‘round with you this whole time?” Dean asks this time.

“Mhm” I hum as I sit getting right to work.

With a little bag in front of me I put in each ‘ingredient’, for lack of a better word, not needing to look at my book for the right amount in each.

“Well don’t be lazy, help the girl!” Missouri lectures hitting Dean on the back of the head again. He grumbles no longer snapping back with something, he sits down next to me looking for direction.

With the feeling of his gaze on the side of my face I swirl my finger towards my spell book, a purple haze floating through the air turning the pages of my book to the right section for him to follow without me having to stop my work. He doesn't say anything as he takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, putting his forearms on display as he picks up bits of root, unfortunately catching my attention enough to pause my work and stare at him.

His eyes move from my book to the bag he was working on, his eyes sharp and focus as it passes across the words on the page. He moves his hand to the book using a finger to drag across the page underneath each word, the veins in his hand bulging as he does so. His eyebrows scrunch and his jaw ticks as he asks, “What is this stuff anyway?”

“That’s angelica root your holding” I mentioned first, referring to the fuzzy green plant in his hand. “And that’s van van oil, crossroad dirt, sage” I point to each bottle, naming off each ingredient we’re using.

He nods as I speak, his eyes still holding the same level of focus. From his listening to the gentle touch he used as he handled each bottle, all I could feel was pure endearment. The sudden quietness in the room made me painfully aware of the fact that we were the only ones left in said room and that Missouri along with Sam had left at some point, most likely to talk to Jenny.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean questioned, knocking his knee into mine to get my attention once more. A bashful smile breaks its way onto my face at his touch, “We put them inside the walls of each corner of each floor of the house, north, south, east, west.”

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the dry wall. Jenny’s gonna love that.” Dean points out.

My lips formed a tight line, cringing, “Yeah…this is just how this goes but to be fair some holes in the walls are better than evil spirits.”

He huffed a laugh, “And this will destroy the spirits?”

“It should, it's supposed to purify the house completely, we’ll probably each take a floor but we do have to work quickly because when they catch on to what we’re doing, they get seriously pissed.” I answered

“Won’t they catch on with us doing it here?”

“You would think that but spirits don’t always know until it’s actually happening like when we make the holes then it’s a big deal.” I inform, tying off another bag.

“Huh” He replies as he continues to work.

Soon silence falls upon us while we work, our arms brushing against each other every now and then.

“Are holes in drywall a hard fix?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence, worried that the spirits won’t be the only pissed ones.

A deep chuckle passes through his lips, “That depends, sweetheart, but it should be.” He went on to explain the logistics of it, and while it wasn’t something I really cared to know about I didn’t stop him from explaining.

By the time his explanation of spackles and walls was over our purifying bags were done too.

Missouri and Sam walk back into the room, the floor creaking slightly underneath them. “You guys almost done?” Sam asked

“Yup” I hummed, “The bags are all done just gotta finish cleaning up”

“Good. Jenny and her kids just left, they’ll be back in an hour or two” Sam explained, placing a bunch of heavy items on the table. “I brought these in from the car, take your pick.”

I look up at the heavy mass, a hammer, a small ax, and two crowbars lay on the table. Though it is an odd collection of weapons as long as it is capable of making a hole in the wall it doesn't really matter, Sam picks up the hammer testing the weight of it in his hand.

With every part of the plan settled I throw the rest of the vials and leftover bags in my bag worrying about organization later, gently tucking my thick spell book into my bag I turn swiftly around, “Let’s get it done.”

“I’ll take this floor” Dean says, picking up his four bags, “Sammy you take upstairs, and you two can take the basement.”

“And remember you need to put a bag in each corner, north, south, east, west.” I order as everyone has the right amount of bags and a weapon of choice.

A collective nod was all we needed to spring into action, with the cold heavy crowbar in my hand I took the lead down the basement Missouri following closely after me. Without any words needed, we split up her heading to the west side of the floor and me to the east.

A chill runs up my spine, an uncomfortable feeling floating in the air, I roll my shoulders trying to rid myself of the feeling. My knees hit the floor, the coldness seeping through my pants. I knock on the wall in an attempt to hear a hollow part, Dean having mentioned before that would be the easiest way to make a hole. My knuckles hit the wall in at least ten separate spots before it no longer sounds solid. I stand back up for better leverage before changing my hold on the crowbar to be horizontal, bashing the end of it into the wall repeatedly until it cracks.

A heavy sliding noise shuffles behind me, I snap my head to the sound of a large dark table moving across the floor right into Missouri. My mouth opens to scream her name in warning but just as the first syllable leaves my mouth a nail comes flying at my face. Out of reflex alone I send the nail flying to the left, the invisible force of my power altering its trajectory. My eyes follow where the nail came from, an open red tool box, more nails come flying my way and each time I knock them away. Knowing it wouldn’t stop I gripped the crowbar harder using only a glimpse back at the wall to know where I was aiming for. While I used one hand and half my focus on changing the direction of the nails I used my other to slam the crowbars end into the already cracked wall but only when it sounded like it broke through enough did I glimpse back again. With another look forward at the coming nails, only one more left, I waited until it got closer, the old nail zooming toward my eye. Just as it got but an inch away I dropped to the floor, turning my body as I went, throwing the purification bag in.

I got up quickly, dropping my crowbar, almost tripping over my other foot as I ran to Missouri, pushing the table away from her, throwing another bag into the hole she had already made before she got attacked. She breathes heavily, a hand on her chest. “You okay?” I ask, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the table. She nods her head, handing me her two bags, wordlessly telling me to finish the floor.

I grip the bags in one hand as I pick up my discarded crowbar, seeing the nails that flew at me sticking out of the walls. I head over to the undisturbed wall slamming the crowbar into the wall, not even attempting to do the knocking at this point. While I threw in the third bag, worry consumed me at the realization that the spirits must be attacking the boys too. Without wasting any more time I go to the last undisturbed wall, again slamming the crowbar into it. Call it paranoia or instinct that made me turn so that my shoulder was facing the wall instead of my face to see if another attack would be coming. Either way it was that alone that saved me from the poltergeist throwing a wooden chair at my head. I duck again just in time for the chair to smash into pieces above me, wood undoubtedly falling into my hair.

“Stop throwing stuff!” I yell at the air itself or really the incredibly annoying poltergeist. With a huff I throw in the last bag, all the activity silencing on this floor. I get up walking over to Missouri as I pick out chunks of wood from my hair, as soon as I get close enough she reaches up and takes a particularly large piece of chair out of my hair showing it to me with a laugh before tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice yells with a strain, clearly coming from a distance away. Right away I recognize the voice, Deans, I go running climbing up the stairs two at a time. Forget about my hair, forget about leaving Missouri behind (no offense).

The ground floor is practically untouched other than the clear mess that is peeking out from the kitchen, I look around quickly and see no one, “Dean?!” I shout back evident fear in my voice, getting an immediate “Up here.” Slight relief hits me as I again sprint up the stairs, twirling around the banister the second I reach the second floor seeing the closest open door. Forgetting about precautions I immediately approach the door, my hand on the archway when I see Dean on the floor cradling a hurt-limp Sam.

“Wha-“ I begin saying only to lose my train of thought.

“Let’s get him up” Missouri suddenly says from behind me, very calmly. She nudges past me heading straight for the boys, but neither of them move. She leans down beside Sam pressing two fingers to the side of his neck, “He’s still alive, he’ll be just fine.”

He gives her a curt nod before leaning back on his feet and standing, dragging his brother up with him, just as he does so Sam comes to. His eyes fluttering open and close, “It’s okay Sammy, just gonna bring you downstairs” Dean tells him, putting his brother's arm around his shoulder.

Carefully he walks his brother downstairs, Sam grumbling something halfway through before going limp again. Finally they reach the living room, Dean carefully lays his brother on the couch then moves to sit on the coffee table right across from him.

“He’ll be alright” I say softly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“I know” he replies.

“Were you able to finish the floor?” I ask even though maybe it wasn’t the proper time to.

“No. I was hurled with knives the second I made the hole, then I heard something upstairs and ran to see if Sammy was okay…I don’t think he finished either” He explains, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“It’s okay, i’ll go finish it and you guys can stay here, watch over him” I say, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before moving my hand away.

“Are you crazy?! That’s dangerous. Did you not just see what happened to Sam?!” Dean shoots back, not quite yelling but his voice is definitely louder than needed.

I smiled at him sweetly knowing this was coming from a place of worry and not an incompetent sort of deal, “Don’t worry I can take care of myself just fine, I did so down stairs when we finished up. Got some nails thrown at me, a chair and a table, you know just the usual playing house with the ghost.”

“That’s not the point. I’m coming with you.” He stands up abruptly and I swear I saw his jaw tick.

“Okay. I’m not gonna argue with you” I respond with humor in my voice. “But. If you did want to stay behind to watch your brother I wouldn't fault you for it either.”

He looks at me strangely with those beautiful green eyes before diverting them just past me, “I’m coming with you.”

“Right.” I smile “‘You got the bags?”

He answers by shuffling through his jacket pockets and pulling out a bag from each, he holds them up in an almost teasing way. I take a half step forward, grabbing a bag right out of his hand, only then realizing how close my small step puts us, having to lean my head back far enough to look up at him comfortably. But I don’t move away as I ask him, “What about your axe?”

He tilts his head down slightly towards me, his breathe hot on my face, “Dropped it in the kitchen”

“Good.” I say, nearly and pathetically getting distracted by our closeness…and his eyes… and his lips. “ ‘Cause I have no idea where I left that crowbar”

He laughs and steps away, his shoulder brushing mine as he walks away to the kitchen. Before I can turn to follow him Missouri meets my eyes, giving me a pointed-knowing look about what just happened. ‘Shut up’ I playfully mouth.

Finally I turn around following after the man in question. He comes out of the kitchen holding the small axe but just behind him is a mess. The kitchen looks like a tornado went through it with draws and cabinets open, utensils on the floor, broken dishes scattered around, the table turned over with knives sticking out of it (a tornado could not do that but the point of the mess still stands.) I look back at Dean then behind him repeatedly, “Did you have fun?” I remark sarcastically.

“Oh, not as much fun as you had” He replies gruffly, reaching up to my hair, his fingers sinking in as he ruffles out small chips of wood. My cheeks feel warm at the small contact and even more so when he pulls away and gives me that smirk. Then he walks away towards the back of the house with a cocky look in his eye like he knew exactly what he had done. I take a short deep breath before following him.

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

A few hours later every purifying bag is put in place and Sammy is conscious and now we stand in the disaster that is the kitchen, broken cabinets and chair bits on the floor as well as a collection of utensils, all just to see the bunt of the fight.

“‘You sure this is over?” Sam questions, his voice a little rough.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?” Missouri answers.

“Never mind.” He sighs, “It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opens followed by footsteps, “Hello? We’re home.” Jenny calls out before finding us in the kitchen pure shock written on her face, “What happened?”

“Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this.” Sam word vomits, the words spilling out quickly and anxiously. Both Dean and I’s heads snap towards him, I seriously want to ask him ‘with what money???’ But before anyone can fathom a word Missouri beat us to it, “Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” Again with her (maybe) uncalled targeting I have to bite back a smirk, meanwhile Dean stands unmoving his eyebrows scrunched looking at the shorter woman with a total bewildered expression.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.” She adds, and I don’t know how she has this much power but he listens and begins to walk away or really shuffle away, “And don’t cuss at me!” She lectures.

Laughter slips through my lips as he mutters under his breath, Sam joining in on the hilarious nature that is his brother being bossed around.

Wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye I touch Sam’s shoulder, “I’m gonna go get him and fix this up…” I twirl my finger slightly to signal I mean magically, “Bring Jenny inside somewhere.” He nods, “Okay but you should really let him suffer”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes as I move away.

I find Dean standing in front of a broom closet trying to balance several cleaning objects in his hands at once. I admire his effort but there’s just no way anyone could clean that kitchen when it’s quite literally just destroyed. I grabbed a broom from him that was seconds away from falling, “Not to ruin your fun but I figured it would be easier to use magic on the kitchen than a mop.”

“Thank god” He sighs, shoving everything back in the closet including the broom I held.

Back in the kitchen I try not to get stressed at just how bad it is. Taking a calming breath I walk over to the kitchen counters, closing my eyes, I feel my hair move around me slightly from a small drift in the room, my body stands completely still as I let my hands feel the cool counter below me and the steadiness of it all. As my body relaxes and my shoulders drop, relieving its tension I become a conduit for magic, a dance of ethereal threads weaving through me. The energy flowed from my core to my fingertips, the flow gracefully extending to every nook and cranny. As if tracing an intricate pattern, it embraced the room, coaxing broken shards and scattered pieces back into harmony. The air felt electric with the essence of restoration, and the kitchen hummed with the soothing melody of enchantment.

When I open my eyes again, I feel a gaze on me. I turn my whole body, so that I was standing sideways, to it and of course it’s Dean, he meets my eyes, his mouth just slightly agape and I can only imagine what the swirling of purple energy around the room fixing items must have looked like. His green eyes are slightly glossy with what is maybe curiousity or amazement, either way it was a weird look. Before I could question him I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a tall familiar figure. Sam stands by the kitchen archway waving his hand, signaling it was time to go.

Hours later darkness consumes the Impala. After dropping Missouri back home Sam insisted we came back to the house for a stakeout. It was hard to argue with someone who had a bad feeling over something that is quite literally life or death, so we stayed. We’d been in here so long in fact that I’d taken to lying down flat in the backseat, my legs propped up on the seats (shoes off so Dean wouldn’t complain but at least I got to showcase my cute dragonfly socks).

I stare up at the beige-ish interior roof, my hands laying across my chest. I breathe in and out evenly, but with the prospect of being bored, memories of my life here swarm my head and suddenly I miss my mom more than I've had in a long time. If I focus hard enough on the roof I can still hear the remnants of her laughter and I could see her smile, the one I inherited, on her soft face. That old longing, that old sadness that I thought I was over fills my heart, its hands creep up on it clasping it tightly. It’s been years. So many years since she’s been gone and yet still this feeling—this rawness in my chest, this endless longing is home in my body just as it was the first time around.

I miss my mom.

I want to cry and I want her back, tears threaten my eyes and that stupid tightness in my throat prevails almost like it’s choking me, a tightness that’s so painful I want to rip my throat out. I swallow forcefully, I hate this feeling and I hate death and I hate that I'm feeling this in the back of the car with my best friends just right up front. It’s too vulnerable, it’s too open, too close to home…I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I shut my eyes tightly trying to erase these feelings to move them back in the dusty box they had sat in. But it isn’t that easy and I know it isn’t so instead I breathe deeply and choose to listen to Dean and Sam talk, focusing on the up and down of their words and the softness of each syllable.

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks, impatience clear on his tongue.

“I don’t know. I just…” Sam sighs, “…still have a bad feeling.”

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.” Dean explains.

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.” Sam answers.

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean responds and I hear him slide down his seat, probably closing his eyes in the process, “Like Y/N back there” he adds, softer, and even with my eyes closed a smile produces itself on my face. The small warmth that spreads in my chest fends off the grief, at least enough for it not to be at the forefront of my mind.

The quiet peace that falls over the Impala is short lived, Sam suddenly yelling, “Guys. Look” My eyes shoot open, “Dean!” He hits his brother's shoulder.

I sit up quickly catching a glimpse of Jenny yelling by her window, with nothing more to be said- we jump out of the car. I shuffled to the car door, leaving my shoes behind, the second I’m out and the door is slammed shut I run after the boys who were only two paces ahead. “You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny.” Dean commands as Sam tries the door which of course is locked. Dean pushes him slightly to the side, he takes a step back lifting his leg and kicking in the door. Broken pieces of wood stick out from the side of it.

The dark wooden floors are cold beneath my sock-covered feet, each step up the staircase seems far too long even as we reach the top. At the top Dean stops at a door close to the stairs but I don’t use any more focus to take anything else as Sam and I run down the hall, “Get Sari! I’ll get the baby!” I yell after him. Stopping at the closest door I swing it open only to reveal a bathroom, I curse underneath my breath before spinning around to the door right across the hall. Once more I swing it open, this time revealing a baby room with a white crib in the middle of it. I rush over only slowing to not scare Richie as I approach, somehow he’s still asleep wrapped up in his little blanket.

Carefully I reach in the crib scooping him up from underneath his upper back, my other arm going for his legs. Once in my arms I rearrange him so my dominant hand rests on his lower back while the crook of my other arm cradles his little head, just like holding a baby doll except this one is way cuter and also very alive. Standing back at my full height I fix his blanket around him before exiting the room. I know Sam can handle himself so I head towards the stairs, the baby had to be the priority right now. I quickly descend the stairs, only half way down when I feel Sam close behind, a relief hitting me.

My feet only just hit the ground level when Sam calls my name, swiftly I turn towards him Sari in his arms.

“Y/N, you need to take the kids and go outside.” He orders, placing Sari on the floor.

“Okay, what about you aren’t you coming?” I rushed out, cradling Richie in one arm so I could take hold of Sari’s hand.

Panic is written all over his face and something else lies in his eyes, “Take them. Don’t look back” And before I can argue any further he’s nudging me forward, reluctantly I go only because I know I can’t help with two kids in my arms. I run towards the door at this point, pulling Sari along with me, just behind me I hear a slam to the floor and I know it’s Sam- relief gone. But even so I rush forward.

The chill breeze of the night hits me hard. Jenny and Dean stand on the edge of the grass line. Only a few paces from them Sari lets go of my hand and runs to her mom, Jenny leaning down to catch her and hold her tightly. “Sam’s inside you have to go now” I speak quickly, my words jumbling over itself. Dean's eyes widen and pure fear fills them, on top of being scared guilt fills me now too. He runs to the front door and I hear it slam loudly. I hand Richie back over to his mom who is very obviously relieved to have him again.

Dean runs back to the Impala pulling out a shotgun and an ax, going right back to the door. I know I could open the door for him, it would be easy and I wouldn’t even break a sweat. Yet, my feet remain planted to the grown, the chaos of it all—the guilt. My purifying bags didn’t work, it nearly got a whole family killed and Sam’s now in trouble too. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

My feet won’t move, my body won’t react, I can't even redeem myself. I don’t want to lose anyone else, I don’t want to. I can’t.

Move.

Move. Please move, I beg myself— my very being to do something anything but be helpless. I hate being helpless and yet I’m here doing nothing, anxiety and fear encasing me to this spot. I hear Dean hacking away at the door, faint grunts leaving his mouth as he does so but still I can’t move. Sari begins to cry latching on to her moms legs only waking up Ritchie in the process who then begins to cry too. The loud crying rings in my ears, only making my heart beat faster.

Jenny, visibly overwhelmed, wrestles with the challenge of consoling both kids, her distress mirrored in her eyes. Without conscious thought, my arms extend, offering to hold Ritchie. To my surprise, she entrusts the baby to me, planting a tender kiss on his forehead before gathering Sari into her embrace. Sari's legs encircle her mother's waist, a protective hand cradling the back of her head.

Richie moving in my arms breaks me out of my panic, if only because someone in need was right there, someone who surely couldn’t help themselves. I begin to rock him, moving my weight from one foot to another but my stress and worry is still there and he must feel it too because it does barely anything to help. I look back up, Dean is still hacking away at the door, not enough progress has been made. I rearrange the baby, using my free arm I lift up a hand my palm facing towards the direction of the door, with barely any thought needed the door slams open. Dean looks back at me for only a second before running in.

Richie's cries persist as I rock him, murmuring reassurances, "It's okay, everything will be okay." I desperately rack my mind for any calming measures, when I suddenly recall my mother singing me lullabies. But still I struggle to remember any of them, the memory too distant to be anything more than a hymn, instead I decide to softly sing "A Lullaby" by Dear Nora – even though it came out way after my mothers passing it always reminded me of her. And I had always kept a small hope that one day if I were to have kids that I would sing it to them too.

As I move a strand of hair from Richie's face, he begins to settle. My voice trembles with fear, but it seems to have a soothing effect anyways. Richie stops crying, and I meet Jenny's gaze. She offers a sad smile while holding her daughter close.

Both boys came out of that house. Relief had hit me like a ton of bricks, my knees felt wobbly with it. At first they could barely speak, shocked at what they saw but then the police and firefighters came and it was all the usual.

It was hours later until everything was resolved, and it wasn’t until Missouri came over that they actually spilt what happened. Their mom was there, she was the good spirit that I had felt, the one that was fighting off the evil and she did exactly that when it had attacked Sam. Somehow, she was still at the house after all these years protecting it. She had used the last of her abilities to say…sorry.

It’s morning now, Missouri cleared the house for real this time no spirit was left in there. The kids were sleeping still, Jenny was giving the photos she found to Dean and Sam sat with Missouri on the steps talking.

I had nothing to say to anyone in particular so I sat in the Impala, my legs outside the car, digging through my bag, when I finally pulled out my spell book I turned to the purifying page, I looked it over again trying to see if we did something wrong and messed up the amounts. But no. We did it right, but for some reason it didn’t work—it didn’t work and people could have died. Holding the book on my lap I reach up to the top of it, my hand holding the single page ready to tear it out when it’s suddenly taken from my grasp “Hey, what are you doing?!” Dean yells, holding it out of reach.

“It didn’t work. It needs to go, please give it back.” I answered, my jaw clenched.

“This was your moms, you’d hate yourself if you ripped it up.” Dean lectures.

“No I wouldn't, give it back. I need to make sure this never happens again.” I shoot up from my seat reaching up to grab it back but his arm shoots down behind his back.

“Yeah, you would. Sorry to break it to you sweetheart but I know you pretty damn well.”

I don’t care if he’s right. I don’t. That page needs to go, I can’t make this mistake again. I won’t. I reach for it again behind his back but again he moves it, “Dean. I’m not joking around give it back.” I don’t often get angry, but I am.

He looks down at me, his eyes scrunched in confusion and concern, “What’s going on with you?”

I huff, frustrated, “What’s going on is I messed up. Badly. They could have died and don’t try to say I don’t know that for sure because I do. And I know you do too, so I don’t need any comforting lies”

"We screw up, sweetheart. It's part of the gig. But we fixed it. They're alive and kickin', okay?" His words carried that gruff reassurance he always had, even when he was being a bit of a hypocrite. Book at his side, guard lowered just a bit, it was my chance to snag it back. "Not this," I jabbed a finger at the book. "I'm good at this. I don't mess up on this."

"I don't care that you're all emotional right now. You're not trashing your spell book." Arms crossed in front of his chest, he held his ground.

My chest heaved, my eyes scrunched in frustration as I looked up at him, my free hand in a tight fist my nails digging into my palm. “But, it needs to—“ I say back, weakly, already my fight was crumbling, being replaced with something else. Suddenly his arms were around me and my face was buried in his chest. His arms held my upper back tightly, his hands going up to cup my head, his fingers entangled into my hair a little while his chin rested on top of my head. With each breath I took, inhaling his smell of something woody and some sort of spice mixed into one, any resolve I had left was gone.

I wanted to keep fighting, I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he held me so close and so gentle that I couldn’t. If that in itself had made me weak then so be it. I wrap my arms around his center, even with my book in my hand. It had to be seconds later when he must have felt the tension leaving my shoulders when he pulled away, his hands dropped down to the crook of my arm holding me a short distance away. His green eyes locked with mine in a silent agreement.

I pull away fully when Sam and Missouri approach, quickly whipping my eyes just in case and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. We each exchange hugs with her, even Dean who surprisingly gets no comment this time.

Missouri smiles, “Don’t you be strangers.”

“We won’t.” Dean nods as he rounds the car.

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uhdrienne · 1 month

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

04. 53,000 won

🌼 feat: wonwoo x reader (written and a bit of smau), fluff, mild angst??, hometown chachacha!inspired

🌼summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 warning: mention of a funeral (but no one dies, it's just a description)

🌼 word count: ~3k

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"Ugh!!" Your head is in your hands, sitting in the middle of your newly-furnished apartment, mulling over the incident. A part of you feels bad for saying all that out, but how were you to know the mic was on?

A knock on your door breaks you out of your struggle. You sigh and pull yourself up. When you open the door, you're surprised to see Wonwoo outside. His mouth is set in a mocking smile, all the previous friendliness and teasing tone gone.

He cuts in before you can ask what he's doing here. "You really think you're better than everyone, don't you?"

"What?" You ask in shock.

"You must have had a smooth life, right? I told you before, Miss L/N. This isn't the city." He continues coldly, not a usual shred of humour in that sentence to be seen. "We live differently from you bigshots in the city, that's true. We make honest livings, and everyone has had their fair share of struggles. And what did you say -- 'too simple it's aggravating'? I'm not sure you know about anything any one of us has gone through. I humoured you at first because I thought you were just awkward with us, but I guess I shouldn't have." He gives a mirthless laugh.

You snap, "If this is about earlier, just stop. I don't need you to rub it in."

He raises his eyebrows. "You went around calling us all simpletons in essence, but you get upset the moment I call you out for it?" You shoot a glare at him, but he continues, unfazed.

"Listen here, Doctor. Life isn't so fair on everyone. You may have had it easy, but a lot of people spend their lives on unpaved roads, and some run at full speed only to reach the edge of a cliff. You have no right to undermine that, got it?"

He stalks off without looking back.

You slam the door shut and return to the middle of the room, fuming. Not even three minutes later your pity party is interrupted by yet another knock on the door.

Fed up, you storm to the door and pull it open, ready to vent on the man...

"Delia??" You ask, and she breaks into a smile. "Surprise!"

"What are you doing here?!" You burst into tears and crush her in a hug. Her expression turns into one of concern. "Wha- are you okay??"

"I messed up!" You sob into her shoulder as she hurriedly comforts you and pats you on the back. "When I was telling you about the town, I was in the broadcast room, and it played out for everyone to hear."

"Oh." Delia pauses the patting for a second before pulling away from the hug. "Yeah, you really did screw up."

"Delia!" You wail. "What now? I can't face them anymore. I'll have to move out, but I'll be unemployed. I-"

"Okay, calm down, shh, shh," Delia says, rubbing your back to soothe you. "It's okay. Just apologise -- sincerely -- and make sure you don't do it again." After a pause, she asks, "Is that why I saw Chief Jeon walking down the path earlier?"

"You saw him?" You ask, stricken. "Did he say anything?"

"No, he just smiled and said hello," Delia replies. "He didn't seem any different."

"Crap," You groan, leaning against the couch.

"Yup, crap indeed," Delia says bracingly. "Look, really, try to have fun here, okay? I know this wasn't your first choice, but a lot can happen in three months. I think you need to give them a chance before you say anything. I mean, if someone just assumed shit about you, you'd be mad too, right?"

You shrug. Delia rolls her eyes. "Go take a walk or something to clear your head. You might go do something rash if I keep on yapping, so go on."

You throw on a cardigan over yourself and make your way out the door with Delia's encouragement. You finally walk to the harbour, rather chilly at this time of night, and to your dismay, you spot Chief Jeon, sitting with Seungkwan and Joshua along the steep step at the top.

Oh. It was all three of them.

You brace yourself to walk right past them but sigh, Delia's words replaying over and over in your head. But they probably hated you now, you reasoned. So if you walked past them, they might not even bat an eyelash.

As you approach, Joshua looks up and raises his eyebrows. "Why're you here?"

"Walk," You reply hesitantly, trying to avoid eye contact. Seeing them again, in person, like this -- amplifies the embarrassment you feel. You can feel your ears turning red.

Chief Jeon huffs. "Sit down. You're not at a court sentencing or something."

Seungkwan finally looks up at you and motions with his head slightly, and that is your cue to sit, a small distance away from the three men.

"That," Chief Jeon says, pointing at the large, red lighthouse in the distance, glowing with bright lights against the night sky, "is the lighthouse. Fishermen use it lots when they can't get back before nightfall. It helps them navigate, and make sure they don't hit rocks and capsize."

You look at him curiously. "What?"

"Miss Hwang -- you've met her, the cafe owner-- can be a bit of a chatterbox, but she's really friendly. She's noisy, but she has a good heart, and she makes good company on lazy days." He continues, as if he hasn't heard you.

"Hey," Joshua nudges him, amusement on his face. "Tell her about Grandma Lee."

"Grandma Lee is everyone's family," Chief Jeon adds, a fond expression on his face as he looks out to sea. "She's lived here all her life, so she's watched practically everyone grow up, and she's seen lots of them come and go. She... she raised all three of us when we were kids, actually."

"She's the best person ever, and she's a good cook." Seungkwan tells you, the first sentence he's said to you since the fiasco.

Your confusion doesn't ebb. "What on earth are you three talking about?"

Chief Jeon rolls his eyes. But it's Joshua who speaks up first.

"We were getting to that," He says. "We're angry, yeah, that you jumped to the conclusions of us being simple that it was annoying. And Wonwoo was right that everyone's lives are different and you really shouldn't have said that." You're ready to retort, but Chief Jeon cuts in.

"You must be angry about what I said earlier."

"You know meddling can be dangerous, right?" You return. "You probably haven't caught up to the world yet."

"Probably," Chief Jeon shrugs. "But I'd appreciate it if you met them halfway."

You huff.

"I know this wasn't in your plans," Chief Jeon continues.

"...But?"

"This may sound old-fashioned, but this town hasn't had too many city people come in to stay," Seungkwan adds, tossing a pebble in the air and catching it. "So we're very tight-knit and our behaviour can be different from city people."

"Sounds exhausting," You mutter.

"Yet you chose to open a clinic here. Don't we all need some time to adjust?" Chief Jeon asks you. When you don't reply, he says, slightly sighing. "We were talking about it, and we figured all people make mistakes. Strictly speaking, it's not like you knew the mic in that room was on."

"We badmouth everyone at some point anyway, right? And everyone is probably talking shit about you right now," Seungkwan shrugs. "So you're all even. It's time for you to start over."

"And we want to tell you about life here," Joshua says, not unkindly. "So we can get to know each other a bit more, and we won't just be awkward up until you leave."

You stay silent, your irritation fading slightly. Perhaps these three weren't that bad.

Seungkwan launches into a quick briefing of the villagers. You find out that Mrs Woo, your landlord, has a seven-year-old son, who's top of his class and a quiet but obedient boy. That a young couple is running a small convenience store near the main path, and they're expecting a second baby soon. Wonwoo and Joshua stay silent, mostly, only chiming in very occasionally.

You don't say much, simply nodding at the right places, until Seungkwan snaps his fingers. "Ah, right! Reminds me, have you given out rice cakes?"

You stare at him in utter confusion, only for all three men to stare back at you, baffled. "You haven't? Seriously?" Wonwoo asks incredulously.

"No wonder," Joshua muses, before explaining. "You ever heard of the custom of handing out rice cakes when a business opens or when you move in?"

You nod slowly. "I thought that was a past tradition."

"Some of us see it as a form of courtesy," Joshua replies. "We'll help you make them, so pass them out. Maybe they'll take it as an olive branch."

You nod hesitantly. "Okay. I see."

Wonwoo shakes his head in mock amusement. "All those brains to be a doctor, and you really forgot rice cakes?"

You shoot him a wilting look, and he cracks a smile. "Don't start on your spiel about city life again."

"I wasn't going to," You say obstinately, but you know damn well you were on the verge of it.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

To little surprise on your end, no one really changes their impression of you even after the rice cakes three days after you move in.

Some accept it with barely-there enthusiasm, while some don't even bother to spare you a second glance. It was expected, you muse, as you exit your twelfth household of the day.

"Miss Doctor!" A voice you know all too well calls out to you, and you look up wearily.

"What?"

"You handing out rice cakes?" He asks, outstretching his hands to take the few tins you have in your hands.

"Yeah. You guys said to."

He huffs. "Show some backbone about it, would you? You're promoting your clinic, not a funeral."

You cross your arms. "You try getting brushed off by so many people and see if you can still keep that grin on your face."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't be a baby. I bet you just went in, said "I hope you come to the clinic!" without apologising, and left."

You stay rooted to the ground. "So?"

He looks at you, shock on his face. "Did you really think that's enough? Of course no one would be convinced! An apology would be more than welcome."

You shrug, already worn out. "Whatever."

"Don't get grumpy on me," He says bracingly. "That's pathetic. Where's your friend, by the way?"

"Back in Seoul." You shrug.

He rolls his eyes. "Alright. Come with me this evening."

"What?"

"You're pretty stubborn. I said, meet me this evening. We're going somewhere."

"Wher-"

He stalks off, his hand stuck up in a wave.

"Idiot," You mutter.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

You meet him at the junction near the small convenience store at the junction at six sharp.

"Oh, you're here early," He remarks as he approaches you. "Come on. We're going to the village meeting."

"What?" You recoil instantly, and he clicks his tongue. "Don't be a baby, honestly. Come on."

He leads you, with lots of complaining, back to the same place with the broadcast room. This time, you hear the buzz of people's voices, some laughter, lively conversation from inside.

Your hesitation is obvious as Wonwoo ushers you, and he sighs. "I'm giving you a chance to go in and try making things right. They need you as a doctor like you need them as companions, you know?"

You try to glare at him, but with your unwillingness and nerves combined, it's much milder than usual. He's clearly unbothered as he cocks his head towards the room. "I'll catch up with you. Go on."

"You're not coming?" The words shoot out, more alarmed than you intended.

"Time's a-ticking. I'm not the one who should apologise, Miss Doctor."

You huff, turn your back to him, and steel yourself. "Fine." Your heels crunch into the gravel as you walk towards the room.

He watches you as you march away.

You open the door warily, and all eyes turn to you. Disgruntled mutters break out as you step in awkwardly, but Seungkwan and Joshua, who are already sitting cross-legged near the back, smile slightly and wave you over to sit with them. Amongst the not-so-discreet chatter of the grandmothers who eye you disapprovingly, you make your way through and sit next to them in relief.

The conversation is muted until Ms Hwang asks (although it sounds more like a confrontation to you), "Why are you here, Doctor?"

"Um..."

Seungkwan clicks his tongue before he cuts in, clearly sensing your discomfort with all the villagers staring at you, not kindly in the slightest. "She's living here with us in the town now! Of course, she should be here."

Joshua murmurs assent, hand coming up to pat your shoulder in comfort. You try to smile awkwardly, and the villagers go back to mumbling under their breaths. That is until the door opens and Wonwoo comes in. He's carrying a box of fruits, you observe, and the villagers make way for him on autopilot. He sets the large box down, makes eye contact with you, and breaks out into a grin.

"Ah, Miss Doctor! I see why you needed my help carrying this in." He makes a show of stretching his back. "This is rather heavy, huh?"

"Wha-" You start to ask, but Seungkwan jabs you in the ribs. He's smiling when you look at him, and you finally figure out the act.

The murmurs continue, but more so in surprise, and as Wonwoo looks around in mock confusion, he deliberately chuckles out. "Ah, Miss Doctor heard about the village meeting today. She went to get fruits for everyone, but it was too heavy. She didn't even want my help until I insisted!"

The three grandmas turn to look at you, but the air of disapproval is replaced by something more questioning. The change is rather welcomed, though, the feeling of being scrutinised slowly fading. You manage to laugh out awkwardly.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

The meeting goes without a hitch. The villagers help themselves to the peaches and apples Wonwoo — “you” brought— as your landlord addresses the issues of village cleaning and trash bags. Joshua even throws in a few deliberate praises on your choice of fruits. As the sky outside darkens, your landlord finally wraps up, and she adds, "Let's all thank Y/N for bringing fruits today, okay?"

A few mumbles of thanks are heard, but that alone sends endless relief through you.

Everyone files out after a while, goodnight's and see you's exchanged. You hang behind the rest, walking with Wonwoo. Seungkwan and Joshua go on ahead, saying they want to have an early night.

He stops you at the junction and holds out his palm.

"What?" You ask.

"53,000."

"Huh?"

"53,000 won."

"Wha-"

"For the fruits. I didn't want to say this to you earlier."

You huff and reach into your bag, but he stops you. "Bank transfers are fine. I'm not going on another wild goose chase with you for money."

"God, do you ever get tired?"

He chuckles at your annoyed tone before speaking again, slightly warmer and less sarcastic. "Good job today. I think the grandmas are warming up to you."

Before you can respond, he's striding back down the path, waving goodbye to you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

wonwoo is our saviour 😋

💌 taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou

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