#and i normally can't figure out why until i sit down to draw the worst little gremlin you ever did see

[jd-loves-fiction]

➤ Deaging fic because the fan art with baby Rex is adorable. Bonus points if Ahsoka and Anakin are deaged as well. I sort of figure it could because of some weird Force magic but whatever works for you.

➤ genre: just fluff cuz tiny babies :)

➤ 🌑Requested: @carlycrays ❤ DISCLAIMER: idk how kids work🙃 and was too lazy to look it up so yeah, enjoy this mess. Also so sorry it took this long but i was really struggling, maybe I'll use the other ideas at some point ;)

"By the Maker..." You sigh in frustration as Sivix continues to pace nervously. "How are we going to fix this, if even the Council doesn't know how?"

"Calm down. It could be worse, at least it's not a hostile planet." Sivix reasons, stopping before you.

"Yeah, but it's still out of the Republic's reach. We're alone out here and this situation is not helpful, in any way." You grumble, crossing your arms.

Captain Sivix sighs, "With all due respect, sir. I understand your concern, but obsessing over something we can't fix is not going to solve anything." he speaks resolutely, arms behind his back and spine straight as a ruler.

"You're right, you're right." You sigh, dragging a hand down your face in frustration as the captain's words settle in your mind. There's nothing you can do, at least for now.

"Why don't you go check on them?" He offers you gently and you're up on your feet before you can stop yourself by thinking too hard about the situation.

You salute the trooper guarding the barrack you step into. Once inside, all you hear are cries and coos. It would've been surprising, if it wasn't exactly what you were expecting to find.

"Well, who do we have here?" You ask playfully, with a softness not many are privy to. But how can you help it, with whom you're looking at?

High-pitched coos come to you as a response as you walk towards the sounds. "Hello there!"

Tiny hands reach out to you as you approach. You pick up baby Anakin, placing him at your hip as he giggles in delight while you bounce him slightly.

Perhaps a situation so strange would've called for a more panicked reaction, but that stage's already passed. Plus, they're all just so cute.

"Anything to report?" You ask Fives, who looks away from his now tiny Captain, knocking him over with a slight push while locking eyes with you.

"Report? General..." He trails off amusedly, holding a hand against Rex's forehead as be attempts to get to him, unsuccessfully.

You have to admit, it is certainly amusing.

You shake your head with a sigh, looking down at the child at your hip as he makes a quizzical noise. You place a soft kiss on his blond head, to which he giggles.

You put Anakin down before sitting close to Fives and Echo, who's mostly just eyeing the small Ahsoka curiously.

"Any news from General Kenobi?" Echo asks, startled as the young Togruta suddenly stumbles onto his lap. "Nope. Nothing at all. We're alone out here."

Noticing your crestfallen expression and heavy sigh, Anakin wiggles around until he can lay his head on your shoulder and wrap his tiny arms around your neck. "Aw, buddy, it's ok. We'll figure something out."

"How long do you think it'll take for him to get to us?"

"I'd say more than a few hours, but I can't be sure. Given that we're supposed to be on a mission. Our only saving grace is that we're supposed to meet with him on Kenrall, hopefully when he gets there and realizes we're not coming, he'll send someone out way." You can't help your negativity.

A crash is heard from somewhere in the corner, making you all look towards it. To find Ahsoka, who'd somehow gotten away from Echo without him noticing, holding a lightsaber oh no.

"No no no, put that down." Fives tells her sternly, finally letting go of his tiny captain, who falls on his face upon the lack of pressure.

The child immediately starts crying as Ahsoka continues to wave the activated lightsaber around while Echo attempts to get a hold of it.

Anakin reaches out with grabby hands, wanting to join in on what seems to look like fun, but you hold him steady, smiling when he looks up at you in confusion. “You don’t wanna get involved, believe me.” He pouts in response, attempting to escape your hold, to no avail.

You finally sigh at the troopers’ attempts to get the girl to let go of the dangerous weapon, raising a hand and moving it out of her hand and towards yours. Anakin looks up at you with wide, wondrous eyes, a heart-melting smile showcasing his tiny teeth.

Ahsoka tries to chase the sword, only to stumble and fall as it is carried away by an invisible force. Rex, upon seeing his friend on the ground, in the same position he just was in, gets up to help her, completely forgetting that he was the one screeching for help just moments before.

The lightsaber drifts smoothly towards your hand as Echo and Fives occupy themselves with their captain and commander, while a pair of wide blue eyes sparkle mischievously before a small hand reaches out just like yours. Suddenly it drops slightly, changing angle and moving towards your chest instead.

You look down to see a tiny hand reaching out, mirroring yours. Tiny Anakin furrows his brows as he draws the lightsaber towards himself. You’re too amazed to even think about how dangerous it all is.

The trance is broken once the sword reaches Anakin’s grabby hands, making him smile unbelievably wide, before you snatch it away. “No, you can’t touch that. You’ll hurt yourself.” You tell him sternly.

His pout returns, deepening as he processes what just happened, before a loud cry rips itself from his chest, catching everyone’s attention.

Echo sighs, rubbing his temples as he feels a headache coming on, holding Ahsoka’s hand while Fives holds his tiny captain on his hip. The Togruta runs towards you and Anakin with a determined expression, surprisingly not stumbling once.

You watch curiously as she approaches, turning off the deadly weapon, before clambering up onto your lap. She stares into Anakin's eyes, before enveloping him in a tight hug, smooshing her cheek against his.

Surprisingly, it works. It quickly makes the tiny Jedi quiet down, hugging back his commander while sniffling the rest of his tears away and putting on a brave face. As if to say 'I wasn't crying!', just like normal-sized Anakin would.

"General!" Sivix exclaims, drawing everyone's attention, "We've received a transmission from Commander Cody and General Kenobi. They are on their way." he can't hide his relief.

"Thank the Force." You sigh, making the children in your lap look at you with concern in their wide eyes, before raising their tiny arms and cheering when you shoot them a smile.

Not the worst of experiences, but you're definitely relieved to hear from Obi-Wan so soon.

#clone troopers #clone wars #clone wars x reader #captain rex x reader #captain rex #captain rex x y/n #captain rex x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x y/n #clone wars anakin #anakin x you #ahsoka tano #clone wars ahsoka #star wars ahsoka #anakin fanfiction #clone wars rex

[angelswithcigarettes]

“To find a way to cope”

Summary: Morgan finds Spencer's notebooks filled with partly disturbing drawings and poems and learns once again how much of what Spencer feels he doesn't know how to express and how much happened in his childhood he never talks about.

AU: [This is an AU in which Morgan and Reid share a house (as friends). The parts can be read independently.]

Warnings: Past Sexual Abuse

Relevant Tags: Autistic Spencer Reid, Suicidal Thoughts

Word Count: 4626

First Chapter:

Notes: Since this series is the follow up serious to another one of mine "Green" (I will link it in the endnote) there can be some confusion if you haven't read it. But here is a short summary of it so you don't have to read it all and can still 'enjoy' this:

In the story "Green" Spencer gets together with Lola who abuses him following up this abuse he stays with Morgan who helps him recover as much as that is possible. Spencer doesn't want to go back to his apartment so Morgan decides that it is time for a change, they move in together in one of the houses Morgan renovated ones.

They each have their own privacy, their own floors including bathrooms and bedrooms and each of them has their own office but its not a secret to anyone that they also don't have much privacy because at some part after living together for so many years the embarrassment or shame for many things just faded.

However when Morgan picks up a box of books in the basement while looking for his old baseball equipment he feels bad when he looks inside of them.

They are notebooks, written in with black ink and he can tell that it's Spencer handwriting. There is a date on the corner, the note book is hardly a month old. He puts it away and grabs one from further down, revealing another date from eight years ago and he opens up a random page and starts reading.

"And if you look at me

Look at me for another moment

See me

If you really see me

Can you look at me the same again."

It's seems to be an attempt of poetry and Morgan opens another page finding a scetch of a person. Also in blank ink. Their hands scratching at their eyes, looking like they are screaming.

He reads another poem.

"Can you hear me screaming?

Did you hear me screaming for you? You hands burning my skin,you hands burning my innocence.

Can you hear me screaming?

In the latest night, can you hear me screaming?

Did you hear him burning my skin, his hands burning my innocence."

Morgan can feel an unsettling feeling spread through his body, these are too old to be from the time with Lola, judging by the date he must have been in his early twenties.

He looks into another notebook finding a lot of sketches and a few of them look similar to people Morgan had seen before, he figures they are unsubs and then he opens another scatch and it looks like a women, warning a gun holster and having a glass in her hand, her hair shoulder long and judging by the date this is Elle.

Morgan picks up another one, it is dated for approximately a year ago. The drawing shows their house but the windows are barricaded with wood and nails, only a light shining out of Morgan's room and a kitten is sitting in front of their doorstep, skinny and looking up to the doorbell handing in front of the door that is also barricaded.

The next one is a drawing from their kitchen and it shows Morgan, at least he thinks so, sitting at the table with his hand on his head the other around a coffee cup and on the kitchen counter are files stacked and the kitchen table is filled with overflowing cups.

There is a third, showing their bathroom and there is a liquid on the floor,again every drawing is held black ink but he guesses its blood and a handprint on the mirror and in front of the puddle and then there is a hand sticking out from behind the curtain from which the liquid drops down.

The fourth is what makes Morgan want take the notebook with him, it's a man standing in the door and by the tattoos he can make out that it is supposed to be him but he is wearing a mask and he is holding Spencer's stuff animal in his hand while wearing only Jean's and boots no shirt. Morgan can make out that this is supposed to be Spencer's room.

The worst he finds in that notebook is one of a women, sitting on a chair, her head leaned back and her arms sliced open, blood dripping down on the floor and by the necklace, the gun at her hip and the long slightly curly hair Morgan dares to assume that this is supposed to be JJ.

He puts the notebook aside and pulls out one from the time when he started at the BAU and the first drawing is of a little boy with glasses standing in the bullpen that is crowded with files. The second is a room filled with bees at the wall and an empty chair in the middle.

Morgan knew Spencer can draw he didn't know how well he does.

There are a few sketches of Morgan and Gideon and a lot of JJ. And many butterflies and with the ripped out pages in between he guessed that he draw them for her.

He quickly puts everything away when he hears Spencer walking down the stairs but goes back down to grab the one with the poem about the 'burning hands' the one with the sketch from Elle and the one with the drawings from the house and the women on the chair and for weeks he hides them in his office and eventually started profiling a few of them but quickly stopped that, feeling uncomfortable.

"What are you drawing?" He asks stepping into Spencer's office and the man shuts the notebook again.

"I don't draw."

"You don't?"

"No, I haven't in years."

"You haven't?"

"No, I am horrible at that." Morgan steps closer and it fits what he had found downstairs. The little pencil case open, only black pens inside and a pencil with a rubber. "What did you want?"

"Nothing just wanted to check in on you." Looking over he sees another stack of papers, and in a box next to his desk watercolours. "Its getting pretty stuffed in here."

"I like it. And I would like for you to leave now."

"I will." Apologetic Morgan takes his hands up and leaves the room.

There is a high chance that Spencer knows himself that his drawings are concerning and that that is the reason he is so defensive over people knowing he draws.

He keeps his findings a secret for a few more days until he gets to concerned and tries again talking to him about it but the moment he takes the word drawings in his mouth Spencer denies having drawn in the last years and accuses him of having sniffed around his office for things he draw as a teenager.

So he takes the notebooks and in a quiet moment walks up to Hotch's office who is similar concerned by them. For him the worst is one of Spencer himself, someone pressing a hand over his mouth and him into a pillow next to a poem about the lyrical I suffocating.

"There are more that hint at sexual abuse."

"He has a history we know that."

"Some are older than what happened with Lola."

"Did you try talking to him about these?"

"He claims he hasn't drawn in years." Hotch looks further through it finding more and more thinks he finds concerning.

"There are quite a lot of you."

"That's why I am here. I was hoping he maybe would rather talk to you about it. I can't explain why the drawings are portraying me like that." Hotch looks down on the page of a drawing of Morgan laying on the couch, the TV running but he is sleeping. On the table a ashtray with smoke coming from it on the floor next to the couch, multiple books that block his way and lianas hanging from the ceiling one close to curling itself completely around his neck.

"You have a theory?"

"My first guess was that something in the house made him feel captured, or even me but I am not sure."

"I would actually say that it's the opposite. That he feels like he captures you."

"Me?"

"This doesn't look like he is the one captured." He points at another painting showing Morgan standing in the kitchen, one half of his body having spiders all over it his other side being completely normal beside the fingers that in the end turn into bees and more bees flying away from it. "Are you okay?"

"You see this drawings and you ask if I am okay?"

"Besides that these drawing are definitely not something that leave you unaffected there are a few that a showing you in a vulnerable state he probably saw this before drawing it in his own interpretation."

"I am fine, I don't know why he draws me like that."

"Alright I will talk to him about it." Morgan initially wanted to go to JJ with this but she really doesn't need to see the drawings of herself being death by suicide. There is the one on the chair but also one hanging out of a tree with wings on her back.

For Hotch the most disturbing once are the two from a child, being beaten and in the other drawing having wings sitting on top of a clip, stars around them.

Morgan brings him the other notebooks too and in the earlier once its clear that he draws what he sees on cases and around himself. The poems not so much.

But the younger the note books the more it concerns his friends and random children.

Hotch doesn't find many of himself, but there is a notebook around the time Emily died that breaks his heart and when she came back the drawings change to something with more anger and eventually one that shows Spencer and him sitting in his office, Spencer looking at Hotch, Hotch doing the same but behind Hotch stands Emily or JJ he can't tell having a hand on his shoulder and covering his mouth while Spencer has a ghost behind him, covering his eyes.

He thinks long about if he wants to talk to him about the notebooks because Spencer seems to use this to cope and that is a good thing no matter how violent they look but on the other hand it seems like something is really bothering him so after weeks of debating he hands Morgan the box back saying that it feels wrong for him to interfere and Morgan first gets angry but then agrees that it is better if he first talks to him and then can offers Spencer to talk to Hotch if he rather wants that.

So eventually Morgan breaks the ice at a dinner picking up the box and placing it on the table. "You know what this is?"

"A box"

"You know what's in it?" He asks and Spencer nods with worry in his eyes. "I found it in the basement while cleaning it out."

"Did you-" Nervous he bites on the inside of his lip.

"I did"

"They are mine" He tells him, the fear clearly audible in his voice.

"I know, I am just a little bit worried about you, there is some pretty dark stuff in there."

"You weren't supposed to see."

"But I did and I just want to make sure that everything is alright."

"Yes they are just drawings."

"They are not just drawings."

"And poems."

"Not what I mean kid" Morgan grabs the notebook on top and sits down in front of him opening the page with the drawing of their house. "Is this our house?"

"Yes"

"Can you tell me why you draw this?" Spencer shrugs ones, tears in his eyes. "These are yours and I am not judging you or am mad I just think that some of these, because this notebook was finished a few weeks ago, need talking about. And I am just trying to help you."

"I don't know why I draw this."

"What about the cat? Is that Garfield?" Garfield is an old cat they adapted years ago and died.

"Yes"

"You still miss him?"

"Sometimes I wish he comes home again but then nothing is open here anymore."

"Garfield is dead and even if he wasn't dead when we got the call he would be by now." Morgan tells him in a gentle voice. "So this is about Garfield not coming back in,not you feeling captured in here?"

A nod.

"See that's why I think talking about this is good because I completely miss interpreted this."

"Did you see all of them?"

"Yes"

"All of them?"

"Yeah, I looked through them." He nods and then a tears rolls down his face. "Come on we go over to the couch for this, we cuddle up with your stuff lion and we talk about these, you can lean against me no need to look me in the eyes or for me to see your face." Morgan over the years found out that that is what makes him feel the most comfortable while talking. Either on car rides when Morgan can't tear his eyes from the road or while walking somewhere or placed so that Morgan isn't looking into his face.

Spencer ignores the offer to get his stuff animal from upstairs but he takes the thick blanket while Morgan pulls out the cautions from underneath making the couch bigger and then leans against him and Morgan opens the next page.

It's the drawing from Morgan in the kitchen, the files everywhere and the cups on the table. "What's with the Cubs?"

"I don't remember."

"Mr I have an eidetic memory that's very hard to believe."

"Sometimes everything gets dirty in our kitchen."

"And that bothers you?"

"I try cleaning it but it seems like it doesn't get better even when everything is properly stored."

"And the files?"

"It always happens when we have many cases after another and then it isn't fun coming home anymore."

"Because its dirty?"

"Because it's all tight" He tries to explain how the house feels to him. "We can't move in here."

"Is that the same thing you wanted to express with this?" Morgan asks opening the page of him laying on the couch with the lianas from the ceiling.

"Yes and- and that I- that I take your energy away."

"Okay one point after the other, what is it with the house being to tight? We have a lot of space and a lot of garden and everything, what makes it tight?"

"I don't know sometimes it just is." He tells him moving his head back on Morgan's arm shutting his eyes for a moment and then breathing in deeply.

"We don't have to do this all now if its to much for you" He tells him worried about how this affects Reid. "You just explain it the best way you think I will see about the rest."

"You won't get me."

"I do, it's tight in here sometimes, like you can't move."

"Yes"

"And cleaning doesn't help"

"Yes"

"See not that bad"

"It makes me feel bad." He continues and then hits his thigh ones. "Like I need to run."

"Like you need to run?"

"Yes. Like I have to move. Like my legs haven't moved enough."

"Because it's to tight in here?"

"Yes."

"What about you taking my energy away? What do you mean by that?" Spencer turns his head away not looking at the page but then eventually speaks.

"I am really not an easy friend."

"For me you are."

"No I am not."

"You are not taking my energy away."

"You could do a lot more thinks if it wasn't for me." Spencer justifies his statement.

"Like what?" But he just shakes his head still facing away from him and Morgan tries encouraging him to talk to Hotch but Spencer denies the offer so Morgan moves his hand down around his waist and pulls him closer again. "C'mon you did so good with the first drawings and we won't have to talk about this one any more we can just move on to another.”

Rest on Ao3 (I can’t post more words in here I’m sorry):

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #ao3 author #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #autistic spencer reid #jennifer jareau

[kay-is-krazy]

Literally No Title

Please help

Idk what I’m doing

This is a fanfic

Deanxreader kinda

It needs work sorry

I will hashtag

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Damp. Everything that surrounds you is damp. As you start to come to, you smell the stench. Sulfar. Confused, you try to open your eyes, brows furred as the light tries to chase away your sight. Your adrenaline pushes you to figure out where you are. Looking around weerily, you notice the familiar iron door. Your parents old farmhouse storm cellar. Opening and closing your eyes making sure this is what you're actually seeing. It's been years. Decades even since you've seen these walls. Theyre different now. Moldy, but with cobwebs. You start to realize you're strapped down on the old iron table you used to eat spaghettios on when the tornados hit. No use in trying to squirm your way to topple over. Your father bolted it down in the cement. How did you get here. As you push and strain yourself to remember, the door opens. A tall red flannel emerges, and you go cold...

Life wasn't always fighting monsters, and saving people. You had a family of your own, until the vampire mafia ripped in to town destroying everything in their path, including your home and everyone in it. You still remember their screams as you fled into the woods. Revenge is a choice you have to make, and it sure was a hell of a ride. In this life, you run into auhtorities, but very little hunters like yourself. After bumping into the Winchesters working a werewolf case, they sort of took you under their wing. Noticing you needed guidance, before you ever could. You were in constant rage, before meeting the boys. Searching for answers, and never being satisfied with the kill. It all blurred into a blood bath of vengence. A lot of trust, losses, and whiskey, but you found a new family. You need them as much as they need you. And just recently, it was Dean needing saving.

The mark had completely consumed him. Being the hero, the guinea pig, has led him to be desperate in saving the world. You knew he was always staying strong, putting on a good face for Sam, but deep down, he is slightly broken like the rest of you. His hope depleted as the mark's strength took over his judgement. He was like you were before they saved you, scared and fuming with anger. You're just trying to return the favor before he hurts anyone else, especially his brother Sam.

After months of research, you found something. Slight chance of hope in fixing Dean. Confiding in Sam, he decides to look for it himself. The word of God. Once touched by a demon, it is said to purify them. No one has seen it in over 100 years, but you got a lead. The only thing that's near impossible is finding Dean. So time to draw him out... He wants a fight, you'll bring him a fight.

Scrounging up as many demons as possible, making sure they're alive but bleeding, you make a devils trap and wait. You heard through demon grapevine, that Dean can sniff them out. He's the big bad now. Being a demon himself, he hates them even more, if that makes sense.

But your plan didn't work. There have been plenty of close calls while working on the job, but this wasn't just a regular monster case. It was so much more, and there's a lot at stake. You realize why you're scared. You're in a situation even you can't get out of alive. Fear sets in as Dean walks closer. Each step like a predator closing in on it's prey. That red shirt, being even more red than usual.

He smirks, “Welcome back sunshine. Thought I killed you too soon”.

Your head is pounding as you try to look at your body. Realizing its broken, bruised, and bloodied, you must have put up a fight.

“Oh that, sorry, I couldn't help myself. After I knocked you out, I had some fun.” Your heart is beating so fast as if it is going to jump out of your body. The last thing you want is for him to see you afraid. You try to muffle out his name, but your voice is hoarse. “Please don't speak, I don't want my ears to bleed as you plead with me.... or on the other hand, I'd love to hear you beg for your life”, he whispers the last part in your face.

Wincing at his words, you turn your head, and say “You're not you right now. We'll fix this, Dean.”

He puts his hands on your chin, for a second you think it's him. His oversized, warm strong hands that wouldn't hurt a fly unless it was unnatural.The ones who taught you martial arts, and the ever so famous air guitar. But looking into his eyes, noticing they are lacking the softness, they flicker, and those green eyes are no longer. Black eyes, and his hands smell of sulfar. “There's nothing to fix sweetheart, I'm better than ever.” he jerks his hand away making your head turn to face him. As he walks to the door to open it, you yell out, “Just get it over with and kill me already!” He stops, turns his head just so you can see his profile, and scoffs. Walking out, and leaving you alone once again.

Wondering where Sam is, you try to squirm free from being tied up.Your fastens on your wrist have some wiggle room. Using the pointiness of your sister's ruby class ring on your left hand, you try to cut the leather bands. It's going to take hours, but you're not giving up yet. You know there are only two ways out of this, and you'll be damed if you don't fight.

'Pour some sugar on me' plays from your cell phone. Sam's calling you, the signature ringtone for drunk, fun Sam. Reminding you of the nights at the roadhouse, playing the same G43 on the old jukebox driving Dean insane. While Sammy and you sang until your voices were unrecognizable.

The door opens, and you straighten up, not making a move to let Dean know you've been trying to break free. There's a cart that he's pushing inside, full of old kitchen utensils, some tools from a shed, and a few of Dean's things from the trunk of his Impala that have been missing since the mark took him over.

“I know you and Sam have been looking for me, trying to save me. I'm going to show you how much I don't want or need you two around. Lets send Sammy a message, hm?” He walks over to your jacket with your cellphone in it. Dean throws it in the air and catches it. Holding it like a gun, making fake noises pretending to shoot you. “Glad to see you havent lost your adolescent behavior”, you say, “I know you're still in there Dean”.

He puts your phone down on the cart, picking up a rusty knife used for cutting fish. “But I'm not, and I'm going to prove to you just how wrong you are about me.” He cuts your cheek, and you feel the skin break open, stinging.

“You can hurt me all you want, you'll just be hurting yourself.” You say and spit in his face. The dark smirk scurries from his face, and you know what's coming next is worst.

The torture that he tortured you with only stems from Hell. Picture after picture taken and sent to Sam. The laughing, the darkness, and the insults coming from him, you start to lose hope that Dean is even in there. You keep reminding yourself that demons lie. Not believing anything DemonDean says, even though you desperately want it to be true. The remarks about how he used to think about you like a little sister until a couple years ago when you got stood up on a date with some guy named Brett. Thinking back from a different perspective now, you realize Dean was the one there who saved you from getting kicked out of the restaurant for using up a table. Waiting for some loser you met online, but seeing Dean sitting down across from you, feeling a sense of clarity and sureness. But now ever since he's turned into something evil, he doesn't feel a thing at all for you or Sam.

In and out of consiousness, you decide you wouldn't give up on him. Even though your body is mangled, you keep pushing.

“Dean, this isn't the path your mother would have wanted. You have to know that. You don't want to let her down or she'd died for nothing.” You plead and try, but he slaps you hard in the face. The hit seemed personal, as if you were getting somewhere with him. You reason, “Isn't family what brings people together, it's what brought us together. Aren't we family, you could let me go, and Sam and I can help you see the light again. Just like your mom used to say right? The light will guide you home. Come home Dean!” Another blow to your head. He knocks you out again.

As you come to, Dean is reaching for the blade. He's actually going to use it on you, kill you. Coming to terms with your fate, you start to hum and mumble 'simple man by lynryd skynrd'. It was always your favorite. It was everyones favorite. You figured it was a good enough song to go out to. You peek open your eyes as much as you can. Throbbing and seeping blood, you're finally able to see Dean stop and stare at you. He drops the blade, looking down at the mark and then back at you. His face twisted, unsure of what is reality. You don't stop singing. Second verse, he's closer now. A single tear rolling down your face; knowing if he ever came back, got the mark off, he wouldn't forgive himself. Even when he's unable to save someone on a job, he's hard on himself. You can't imagine what he'll feel like, so you pity him.

He's closer now, hands around your throat. He's trying to fight you and himself. The pain and anger in his eyes turns black, then normal again. You look him straight in those familiar faint green eyes, and say your final words, “I forgive you.” The world goes dark.

Heaven was always described as 'your own personal paradise'. You're wondering why yours is in a hospital. White walls and curtains. The coldness in your nose suprises you. Who knew paradise would be so cold, gray, and foggy. Nothing was easy to make out, but you could definitely tell it was a hospital. You hate hospitals, confused as to why you're heaven isn't what you expected, you look around to see if there is a recognizable face. Hoping for maybe your Dad, Mom, or sister.

No one. There's a loud beeping noise and you look up to see a monitor. Looks like the vitals of a dead man. You start to wonder maybe God put you in the wrong paradise. So you pray. But words don't come out, and you drift back into the dark.

Blinking once, then twice, then several times. The light is bright. You can tell it's daytime. Still the same Heaven as before, but this time you feel everything. The pain, the tenderness. You remember, and know that you're not dead. Relieved, but still uncertain, you try to move. Expecting straps to hold you back, your right arm goes flying in the air. Not used to being free. You look down at your body. It's bandaged and braced. A mountain of a man peeks through the curtains. You have instant relief when you recognize Sam. He has the 'poor puppy eyes' look, and you put your hand on his. He grips it tight, but gentle enough. The gentle giant. Trying to let out a smile, a shadow lurks behind Sam. Instant fear as you realize it's Dean. Panic sets in, and your body cannot handle it. The monitors go off, you see Sam try to calm you down, and Dean sneaking away, head down, disgraced with himself. Nurses rush in with the Doctor to make sure you're okay. Tears well up in your eyes. You somehow cannot forget what Dean has done to you.

Weeks in the hospital, the only visitor you had was Sam. Trying to keep your spirits up, he shows you all of his research following up on possible cases. Between playing cards, reading books, and making fun of the new Taylor Swift song, you ask Sam, “How is he?”, and each answer is the same. “No better, no worse,” Sam replies. After the panic attack, Dean thought it best if he didn't show his face anymore to you. Once healed, you were allowed to go home as long as you didn't saw off the leg brace, and practice using the crutches. Knowing how stubborn you are, Sam rolled his eyes, and promised to watch over you.

Happy to finally break out, you laugh as you fumble with the crutches. Sam lets out a worrisome smile. “I'm fine Sam. Really.” You look up to him and give him a carefree toothy grin. Throwing all of your things into the impala, because Sam refused to drive “that stupid pink truck”, you beg Sam to let you pick the music.

Pulling up to the bunker, your stomach sinks a little. You know you'll have to face Dean eventually. Fogiving is easy for you, but forgetting is a whole other learning curve. Never being the one to admit you're wrong first, or facing real problems, you know it's somehting that needs to be worked on. Staring off into the distance a bit, Sam pulls you out of it as he opens the door. “We're stocked up on all your favorite foods, drinks, and even have Netflix!” He says, nudging you arm and attempting a playful laugh.

Weeks of healing, you finally are able to get up into your truck. You need some air, and desperately needed to get away. The outside world was calling your name, so were the pink wheels on that old ford. First hours, days, then weeks went by, and not a single glance from Dean. No words, no contact. Ignored you completely. Anytime you tried to reach him, asking to grab a drink at the dirty bird bar, to researching a simple ghost job, he pushed you away. You spent so much time in your room with your thoughts. Trying not to think about the event that almost ended you, and most importantly the relationship with Dean. Even Sammy has started treating you differently like you're broken. After Sam telling you to stay home again, while they hunt monsters, you'd had enough. Weekend getaway to a cabin in the woods. You leave your phone on your nighstand and decide you need some peace to clear your mind.

“Fill her up,” you say shutting off your truck to get gas. Getting out to grab snacks from inside, a long lost friend appears. Not able to look away from the light, he shields your eyes for you. You forgot how enchanthing the bright white was. “Cas what are you doing here?” You ask as you looks at you stearnly.

“I was told to keep a tab on you, and you left the bunker. So I'm here to bring you back.” He says reaching for your arm.

“Under who's orders?!” You demand. Not letting him answer you back away and say, “The boys? Really can't even get some fresh air!” Clearly angry, you hit your tailgate. Cas immediatley lays his hands on you to heal you. Being an angel has it's perks. But you wanted to feel something, Cas didn't exactly understand what being human was really like.

Brushing his hand away, you try to reason with him. “Go back to the bunker, grab my phone, and bring it to me. That way I have it on me in case I need anything. I'm still going on my very needed trip. What I don't need is a babysitter” Before you could blink twice, Cas had your phone in hand. “Do not turn this off and always keep this on you.” Rolling your eyes you respond sarcastically, “Thanks Dad. Can I leave now?” Clearly unsure of his decision, Cas side eyes you, but finally nods, and leaves you to your road trip snacking.

The cabin is the same as you left it two summers ago. A couple empty beers scattered, but the rest of the place in neat tidy order. Your mom always liked everything in a specific spot, and you try your best to remember that while staying there. Picking up the bottles to recycle them, you smile and remember the good times spent here with your family, both families. Thinking about the boys, you let out a sigh of relief. Thanking the angels that Sam showed up when he did in the storm cellar that day. The word of God being forcefully put in Dean's hands, purifying him instantly. A bright gold light shining through the brick like object, blasting Dean into Sam. His brother holding onto Dean as he comes to and realizes, he's saved. Sam's words will stay with you forever, that story will stay with you forever. You smile as you remember, you were the one who stalled Dean as Sam had come to the rescue.

“Oh shit!” You say as your line tugs and gets stronger. You were too busy admiring the cotton candy sunset to see your fishing line got a bite. It was a warm afternoon, but turning brisk fast. Fall was settling in, you could tell as the wing picked up every now and then. The trees leaves turning the auburn colors. Setting your beer down, you reel it in, but your bait is completely gone.

“You never were good at fishing.” You quickly stand from a lousy folded plastic chair, and turn around to find Dean, smiling at your loss. Clearly shocked, you ask “What are you doing here? Cas told you didn't he. Lousy friend.”

You put your pole down, and open the cooler to offer Dean a beer. He takes it and slowly sits down on the edge of the dock, feet dangling. You sit down next to him, opening your own beer. “Where's Sam?” you ask.

“Working the case still.” He notices your cocked eyebrow from a side glance. As if he would ever leave Sammy alone, he continues, “It's easy, just some pyscho vengeful ghost.” He sips his beer, straring at the now setting sun.

Getting straight to it, you ask, “Why are you here Dean?” Staring at him, you notice the weariness.

He lowers his head, gripping his beer tight. You see his shoulders move up and down slowly. Sighing heavily, he looks at you, completely looks at you for the first time. It catches your breath, because you have never seen a man so broken, Dean so vulnerable. You can tell he's been fighting with himself, beating himself up over the events that took place. Defeated, face full of hatred for himself, he doesn't say a word. You see his jaw tighten, his temples twitching. Reaching for his shoulder to show trust, but he pulls away shaking his head. “I don't trust myself with you” He musters, as he stands up to walk toward the cabin. Thinking about chasing after him, forcing him to talk, but you can't move. Like cement, you stay planted in your spot. The sun finally sets, but you still sit there, listening to the sound of the frogs.

Grabbing your things from the dock, you head inside. What could you say to make him believe you. Would you believe yourself if you said, “Everything is okay.”? Is it? Inside, you notice Dean is cleaning up what seems to be like the bathroom mirror. Understanding what just happened, you bend down to help and he stops you. Gripping your hands tight, he says “No. You don't need to clean up my mess. Any of my messes.” With a dustpan, he walks to the trash to dump the shards of glass.

“What's that suppose to mean? Am I not allowed to care? To try to save you from yourself?” He winces at the last part.

Turning around to face you, but leaning against the kitchen counter, he looks at you cold and promises, “You will never have to save me again. I will never hurt you or anyone else again.” He looks down and then back up into your eyes, moving towards the door, “You wanna know why I'm here? I came here to say goodbye.”

Stopping him dead in his tracks, you look up at him wondering how you and Sam could even survive without Dean. You start to cry. It's not like you to let anything out, but you stand there, tears pouring out of your face. “No.” was all you could muster up. Very stearn, you said it again, “No.” He grabs you and pulls you in close. Hanging on to eachother, as if it's the last time.

You both stay like this awhile, not realizing it's way over due. “You're not leaving us. We won't let you.” you say confidently, and at this he lets go. He tenses again, trying to be strong, and insists “You and Sammy have to let me go. I've been nothing but trouble. I'm bad. I'm not worth your lives.” Clearly needing reassurance, but not knowing how, you yell, “I went through all of that for nothing?!” Talking with your hands like usual, brows furious now, you continue, “After everything, you still think you're not worth it? Sam and I have done everything for you, for us, for this family.”

He turns his back on you holding back tears, but instead letting out his frustration, “You don't what it's like to need constant saving. I need control of myself, I don't have control.” He yells as he punches the wall. It startles you.

“Oh, I don't know what it's like?” you start, “You don't think that I was ever at a low in my life. What losing my family did to me, the things I did in return. It wasn't until you and your brother, that I finally found solace!” you scoff, “Please you're not the only broken one around here.” Realizing that anger isn't the route to go down, you quietly move toward him. Pushing back the fear that has been dormant, you hold his hand. “We are family.” you say softly. “Family doesnt end in blood.” You wipe away the blood trickling from his knuckle with your shirt.

His hands are shaking now, as he holds them up inching closer to your neck. You flinch, and he tries to pull away. You immediatley grab his hands, and put them to your cheeks, making his squish them together a little. Tears welling up in your eyes, you let out a low, “i'm a little guppy...” It was something you two always did to cheer eachother up. Getting the other to laugh when you're both at a low point has been almost like a game. So far, he's beeing in the lead. Before you can finish, his lips are on yours. Waves of heat roll from your head to your toes, your wet cheeks brushing his scruff, and you give in, even being scared and uncertain. Dean pulls away, looks at you stearn, and says “I'm going to miss you.”

You're still standing not sure of what just happened, and you hear the door slam shut. It seemed as though your feet wouldn't move, but then you finally took a deep breath, turned around and bolted out the door. He was getting in the impala, but before he could jet off, you opened that door and ripped him out. Standing toe to toe, you slap him. That bottled rage unleashes. Then you connect your fist to his face. Unprepared, Dean fell against the car. Shocked at how hard you hit, he starts to realize you're not going to stop, so he holds your hands down. Red in the face from anger, and him red because well there's now blood pouring from his nose, you finally relax so he loosens his rains on you.

“What was that?!” You ask. “Who do you think you are? That is not okay. I am not okay.” Turning around, hands on your hips, shaking your head. Instantly defensive, you gasp, turn to face him, and make sure he knows, “I am not like every other girl. I don't deserve to be treated like any other girl.” He opens his mouth to say something, but you immediatley talk over him, “You're going to have to kill me.” Dean looks at you clearly confused. “Why do I have to kill you?”

Walking back and forth now, you respond, “Over my dead body...You're not walking out on us. Not Sammy, not me. Not our future. People need us, they need you.” Stopping, and turning to face Dean, you say, “I need you. And if you get in that impala, you better have shot me first because I won't stop looking for you.” Walking toward him now, pointing your finger in his chest, you end with “I refuse to give up on you.” At that, he looks down at you, smirks, and responds, “You're stubborn, you know that?” You break a smile, and say “I learned from the best.” Throwing you over his shoulder, he walks into the cabin.

Completely surprised as to what took place last night, you turn around and look at Dean's green eyes. Understanding now, the feelings that were dormant for so long. Realizing now that DemonDean only told the truth to hurt you.You put your hand to his face, brushing his cheek with the back of your finger, and he closes his eyes to just feel your touch. “You're not allowed to leave.” He nods, reaches for your hand with his, and lightly kisses your fingers. “I will never forgive myself...” He says, and you respond instantly, with your pointer finger shooshing his lips, “I forgive you, and will continue to remind you that you're the good guy.” Closing your eyes, thinking about the first time meeting these boys, not knowing how they would change your life for the better, you smile. He rolls you over with ease, and tucks you in close to his warm naked chest. Deep, and grunting, he says your name into your hair. You lift your head a little to let him know you're listening, “hm?” “I don't deserve this” he says, “I don't deserve you.” You respond while picking his hand up moving it closer to your chest, “Neither do I.”

#kay-is-krazy #spnfic #deanxreader #dean x y/n #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x you #please dont steal #literallynotitle

[awkward-uwu]

Heart Of The Sea pt.5

(End)

Previous//Beginning

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Female reader x Woojin

Word count: 1.6k

(A/n: I'm sorry it took so long for me to get to the end of this, but hey, at least I finally did!)

The two of you lay together, holding hands, watching the stars for what feels like hours. Your eyes eventually get heavy and you fall asleep. The next thing you remember is being wrapped in the blanket and carried to the car. The car starts and you fall back asleep almost immediately.

You wake again in the bed back at Woojin's. You decide to get up and see if he's still awake. You peak out the bedroom door and see him asleep on the couch. You smile softly at his sleeping form before glancing out the window to see the moon reflecting across the ocean. The sight draws you in, almost as if it's calling you to dive in. You bite the inside of your cheek and look back at Woojin before quietly opening the door.

You walk up to the edge of the water, just to the point where your toes are touching it.

Without thinking you begin walking into it, the feeling of the water on your skin is amazing, you didn't realize just how much you missed it. You get about chest height before you lean back and start floating and begin slowly closing your eyes.

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

Woojin wakes up to a soft beam of sunlight across his face.

He sits up and stretches before walking towards the bedroom, he knocks on the door and it slightly opens, “Y/n? You up?” he asks quietly as he takes a few steps into the room, “Y/n…?” he notices the bed is empty. He begins to worry slightly before checking the kitchen, then the bathroom, than the closet.

Now he's panicking, “did she run away? Did I scare her?? Was I coming on too strong??” he begins pacing around the living room, “maybe she's in the car…” he walks outside to check the car before noticing a set of footprints heading towards the ocean. He follows them all the way up to the edge of the water where they stop. He begins looking over the rest of the area to see if he can find any other tracks, but to no avail, “Oh no…”

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

Your eyes shoot open to see the sun has begun to rise and you've floated far away from shore. You quickly look around and can barely see the shore in the distance, “Shit…” You begin paddling with your arms and try to kick your legs, until you notice, you don't have legs, your tail is back!

You start spinning and diving, you jump from the water a few times. You couldn't be happier, you're you again! You begin excitedly swimming towards the shore, you can't wait to show Woojin- wait… Woojin… you slow to a stop. What is he gonna think…? Will he still except you…? You sit there thinking for a few minutes before diving under and swimming towards the shore.

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

Woojin looks all across the beach, walking along the shore, calling your name now and again. He walks to the pier he found you under and stops before walking around and on top of it. He stares out into the ocean as he begins to give up.

He sits on the very edge, his feet dangling over, and begins quietly humming the song from the past nights. After a few moments he can swear, he hears your voice humming along, but that's impossible, right? He stops and looks behind himself, not there, but he can still hear you, but from below. He looks down and sees you, clinging to one of the poles holding the pier up. “Y/n??”

You stop humming and quickly dive under. Woojin reaches out “Wait no!” he half jumps half falls into the water after you.

After you dive under you start slapping yourself in the face “stupid, stupid, stupid, of course he was gonna notice you-” you suddenly hear a splash and see a cloud of bubbles, “Shit.” you dive further down and hide in some seaweed. You look up and see Woojin looking around before heading back to the surface for air.

You clench your eyes shut “Stop hiding you idiot! Just show him…” you reopen your eyes to see Woojin in front of you. You open your mouth to say something, but you're underwater, so of course you can't. He grabs your shoulders, an extremely serious look on his face.

You look to the side avoiding eye contact. He softly sets one of his hands on your cheek, turning your face towards him before placing a kiss on your lips. It's short, but tells you what you needed to hear.

He pulls away and smiles softly before his eyes go wide and he starts panicking and begins trying to swim towards the surface for air. You grab his arm quickly and help him up.

The two of you breach the water, he begins coughing as you set a hand on his cheek and start scanning your eyes over his face to make sure he's alright. You pull him to the shore were he sits up on the edge of the water, as you sit slightly uncomfortably on your tail.

“I'm so glad you didn't run away…” he says between coughs. You look embarrassed to the side, “I'm sorry… I was scared… that you wouldn't want me anymore if you knew…”

He cups your face in his hands and looks at you incredibly soft, “Y/n. I've known that you weren't normal, since the day I found you. And when the boys had that video, I sort of pieced it together…”

You look up at him slightly confused, “Wait… really…? So you're not freaked out? Or plan on doing experiments on me…?”

“What? Experi- Of course not! There's nothing that could possibly make me think differently about you.”

You smile as he pulls your face to his and presses his lips to yours. You melt into him almost instantly. All the stress, all the worries, everything you thought he'd do if he knew, melt away.

“Woojin!!” a voice calls from down the beach. You quickly part from Woojin and throw yourself into the water to hide. “Wait!” Woojin reaches out trying to keep you from going.

“Woojin! Dude, what the hell! You didn't show up to work! We got worried.” Chan jogs up and slows as he gets closer, “Wait… why are you all wet? Did you fall off the pier…?” Woojin looks down at his soaking wet clothes, “Uhh… yeah…”

Chan begins laughing, “Really?! At least we know you can swim!” he continues laughing and reaches out a hand to help Woojin up.

Woojin chuckles slightly, “heh, yeah…” he glances back to the water where you dived in before Chan begins pulling him away, still laughing slightly.

The two of them walk to Woojin's house, “You sure you're not able to come in today?” Chan looks to Woojin worried. “Yeah… I'm not feeling great, plus, I just fell off the pier… that wasn't exactly fun… I'll be there tomorrow, ok?” Woojin smiles assuredly. Chan nods with a sigh, “Ok… I'll see you tomorrow then,” he hesitantly walks over to his car which is parked in the driveway and leaves.

Woojin watches as the car gets just out of sight before rushing to the edge of the water, “Y/n..?” There's silence for a few moments before you peak your head out of the water. Woojin lets out a relieved sigh as you swim up to him.

After a bit of talking it over you figure that you might be able to get your legs back if you dry off. So Woojin runs inside and grabs a towel, he covers your tail and carries you bridal style inside. He sets you on the couch before running and grabbing a few more towels and a blow dryer.

The two of you spend a few minutes drying off your tail, but nothing changes, it's still there. “I don't know what else to do…” you feel tears at the corners of your eyes.

“Hey, do you not want to be a mermaid anymore?” Woojin kneels down in front of you. “No- I mean, I do. But, I also want to be here, on land, with you…” you feel the tears begin to run down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it's ok! I'm sure there's other things we can try, and if not, we can make it work!” Woojin wipes some of the tears off your cheek with a smile. You nod slightly and rub one of your eyes with the palm of your hand.

“Now,” Woojin stands up, “What were you doing when you're tail appeared?” You think for a second, “Um… I was swimming,” He nods and thinks for a second, “Well… you can't walk, that's the problem, so that won't work…” he puts his his hand to his mouth a bites the tip of his thumb as he thinks. “Ok, uhhh, what were you like, thinking, or feeling?”

“I was, thinking about how nice the water felt, and just how much I missed swimming,”

Woojin nods, “Alright, so, then, think about how much you want your legs back?”

“Alright…” you nod and shut your eyes. You start thinking about Woojin helping you walk for the first time, you think about shopping with him, you think about going down the boardwalk with him, and how much you want to do it again.

You take a deep breath and open your eyes, you see Woojin smiling brightly at you. You quickly look down and practically scream and jump up hugging Woojin. He picks you up and spins you around and places a soft kiss on your lips.

Maybe, getting caught in that storm, wasn't the worst thing to happen to you.

Previous//Beginning

#skzinc #stray kids #skz #fluff #skz fluff #kim woojin fluff #kim woojin #woojin #skz fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #mermaid #heart of the sea #mine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios