#and that sounds fucking GREAT honestly so i wanted to ask my doctor about it even more

[theygender]

I'm doing it. I'm gonna get a fucking hysterectomy

#its something ive talked about half jokingly for years bc the idea of ever being pregnant or giving birth makes me INCREDIBLY dysphoric #so it seems completely fucking pointless to have to go through so much pain and sickness every month for absolutely no reason #this past month where i couldnt get my medication already had me seriously thinking about it tho #bc even if im managing my endometriosis okay with BC i dont want to have to worry about going through hell if i cant fill my prescription #i was looking into the side effects and etc bc i was thinking about asking my doctor about it next time i went in #and the only thing that had me concerned was that a full hysterectomy or oophorectomy sends you into menopause which seems like itd suck #(but smaller surgeries like tube ligations dont actually stop you from having periods) #BUT i was complaining about this at work and one of my coworkers told me she had a hysterectomy for endometriosis #and her doctor gave her a partial hysterectomy so it stops periods and prevents pregnancy but doesnt send you into menopause #and that sounds fucking GREAT honestly so i wanted to ask my doctor about it even more #but now that roe v wade has been overturned? the deal is sealed im getting this hell machine out of me one way or another #im hoping that my doctor will be understanding as a woman herself but if not my coworker said she'll give me her doctors info #and if THAT doesnt work. i just checked out r/childfree and theyve got a list of doctors in my area who are willing to help #i dont want to keep suffering through chronic illness symptoms every month for absolutely no reason #i dont want to run the risk of getting pregnant and having to live through my worst nightmare as someone with dysphoria #AND like my gf just pointed out to me. ive got other health issues that im trying to get sorted out #im chronically underweight and i either have pots or some kind of hypertension. plus a low immune system and etc etc etc #being forced to carry a pregnancy could fucking kill me for all i know. AND i would have to go off of a lot of my meds?? #all this thing does is cause me chronic pain and put my already precarious physical and mental health at risk #im GETTING it fucking taken out #rambling #ive got an appointment with my therapist on tuesday and i think im gonna ask about getting an official diagnosis of gender dysphoria #and im already in the process of getting tested for pots with my primary care doctor #so hopefully those diagnoses combined with my endometriosis will help speed it along... 🙏

[strang3lov3]

Troublemaker (Brain Scramblies 2)

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Summary: Joel is bad at feelings and distances himself from you after your concussion, and faces his feelings on patrol with you.

Warnings: Smut smut smut of all varieties, so like oral m and f receiving, PIV. Ya know the drill!!! 18+ MDNI! Joel is bad at feelings. Kind of slow burn, asshole Joel. Very sweet sex! Age gap oops

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: SURPRISE MOTHAFUCKAS!!!! BRAIN SCRAMBLIES 2 AT 10PM ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT!! My bf recently informed me you’re not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion so my bad guys sorry for giving you all brain damage that's on me ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON BRAIN SCRAMBLIES! Here’s part two for all who asked!! Like brain scramblies, I don't love this but there was an overwhelming demand for part two and I was concerned for y'alls sanity. Also I changed the title again oops.

Read the first story here! It can be read as a standalone but I highly recommend reading Brain Scramblies first!

Please please please comment and reblog if you enjoy!

Joel ended up falling asleep with you. He woke up early and quietly excused himself from your bed. God, how pretty you looked sound asleep. With your puffy lips and quiet snoring. The way your hair fell across your face. He pushed your hair away from your eyes and left. 

Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

You didn’t mean any of it, any of what happened last night. Joel was a fool for indulging in your concussed words and letting himself believe any of it was real. He placed too much meaning on last night. 

He’d need to work hard to erase the way you made him feel. He needs to forget how he loved taking care of you, how he wants to be the one to make you feel better after a long day or when you’re sick. How he wants to spend all of his time making you smile. He needs to erase all of his love and adoration for you. 

In the morning, Tommy took you to the doctor. Your head was still sore and pounding slightly, but the doctor assured you that with a week’s worth of rest, you’d be back to normal. Honestly, you’d be better in a day or two but it’s best to take it easy for a while longer, just in case. 

You were in the waiting room while the doctor prepared some medicine for you. Some tea to help with the headaches and nausea, and some pain meds. Tommy was sitting right next to you. 

“Feelin’ alright, honey?” he asked you. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Hurting a little but I’ll be fine,” you replied. Your head was still tender, and likely would be for a while. 

“Up for dinner on Friday? As long as you’re feeling okay, of course,”

“Yeah, yeah. Only if Maria is cooking, of course,” you teased him. Tommy wasn’t a great cook, unfortunately. 

Tommy chuckled. “Well, that’s a given. Joel will be there too. You remember him taking you home last night?”

You shook your head. “I thought you and Maria took me home. It was Joel?” Your memories were fuzzier than you realized. 

Tommy’s lips curled in a sly smirk. “Yeah, no. It was Joel. You don’t remember anything you said to him?” You shook your head again. “Well, you were flirtin’ pretty hardcore.”

Your cheeks burned and flushed. “No,” you groaned, burying your face in your palms. 

“Oh, yes. Called him handsome left and right. Never seen him so bashful before. He was pink as a flamingo, honey,” he said. “Course, that was only at the bar. He didn’t tell me if you said anything else about your little crush when he took you home.”

“No, no. You’re lying, Tommy,” you whined. This cannot be fucking happening. What did you do? 

Tommy shook his head. “It’s the truth, I’m afraid,”

You were embarrassed. Actually, you were way past embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated. 

Tommy could see what you were thinking, the excuses you were making up in your head. “Don’t you think about canceling dinner, now. Maria’s making your favorite pot roast, with all those carrots and potatoes,”

Your eyes were pleading with his, his own twinkling with amusement. You opened your mouth to speak, but the doctor interrupted. 

“Alright, now. Tea is for the nausea and headaches, it can be a little bitter so I’d suggest adding some honey. These pain meds will help with the throbbing,” he said. He instructed Tommy to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re hanging in there. 

You both thanked the doctor and left the infirmary then. Tommy relented his teasing, seeing as how you were so close to combusting in embarrassment. 

The week passes slowly. It’s boring, so fucking boring. You do puzzles, read your favorite books, work on your blanket you’ve been knitting. Sip your tea. And each day, all you can think about is Joel. What you said to him, what you don’t know you said to him. 

It’s Friday. Tonight’s the night you’ve been dreading all week. As you make your way to Tommy and Maria’s home, you go over your plan in your head. Just be polite, like always. Apologize to Joel and make nice. Then go home, and the next time you’re on patrol with Joel it will all be back to normal. Right?

No. Not right. 

“Hi,” you say to Joel. Tommy’s setting the table, Maria is putting the finishing touches on her meal. 

Joel only grunts in response, never once meeting your eyes. You might as well have said hi to a brick wall or a houseplant. 

“How’s your week been?” 

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Your head, uh, feelin’ any better?” He speaks like he’s in pain, like each word stings and aches as it rolls off of his tongue. 

“Yeah. It’s better, mostly. Tommy said you walked me home, and I guess–”

Joel cut you off. “Dinner’s ready,” 

Wow. So it’s like that. 

You sit next to Joel at the table, who never once speaks to you the entire meal, save for a “Pass the potatoes, please,” or “I need the gravy,” here and there. You’d never experienced such an awkward dinner before. And Joel was never your biggest fan, but he had never been so rude and short with you before. You felt it was a little undeserved, given you had no control over the situation last week.

Luckily, Tommy and Maria fill the air with conversation to make up for Joel’s shitty and impersonal attitude. Within a few hours, dinner is over. Tommy begins clearing the table as you and Joel get dressed to leave. You bid all of them goodbye, and then leave. Dinner didn’t go the way you planned, but nothing ever does. At least it was finally over. 

“Walk her home, Joel,” Maria says sternly, watching you through the window. “Come on. It’s the least you can do after icing her out all evening.” “She’s fine. Concussion healed.”

“Don’t care, brother,” Tommy interjects. “Walk her home, or you’re cleaning the stables for the next six months. Go. Think y’all have some stuff to talk about, anyway.”

“This is ridiculous,” Joel mumbles as Tommy and Maria both hug him goodbye. But he does it anyway.

He meets you a little ways away from their home, the crunch of leaves under his footsteps startling you. “Let’s move. I’m walkin’ you home again,” he says. 

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” you reply, surprised. No doubt Tommy and Maria forced him into this. 

Joel says nothing. He’s silent the entire walk home, silent as he leaves you on your porch. 

You’re in disbelief. You were expecting to maybe laugh a bit over the situation last week, but not this. Who knew Joel hated being flirted with so much? He takes quick steps, never once looking back to make sure you make it inside your home okay. 

Fuck it.

“Joel,” you call out. “Come here.”

Joel turns around, eyeing you with a frown. “What do you want now? You’re home.” 

“Come here.” your voice is stern and demanding.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, true to dramatic Joel fashion. When he steps up onto your porch and stands in front of you, he stares at you with a blank expression, his eyes are cold. “What,” he says flatly. No trouble at the end of his sentence, like he usually calls you. It stings.

“What happened last week? When you walked me home, after my concussion.”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ happened,” 

“Are you sure? Because Tommy said I was flirting with you at the bar, and I don’t know if I said something rude or what but I…” you trail off. “I don’t know. I just want to know what happened.”

Joel sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t say anything rude,” 

“Then what? What did I say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” 

“Then tell me,” 

“I said it doesn’t matter,” 

“It matters to me,”

Joel steps away from you, sitting on one of your chairs. He won’t look at your face. “Fine,” he says gruffly. “You called me handsome.” 

“Tommy told me,” you say quietly, your voice is small. “Listen-”

“About a million times, actually. It’s all you could say for a minute there,” His tone is beginning to soften, but he’s still grumpy and bothered. “Gave me a nickname, too.” “I did?” 

“You did,” 

“What was it?” you step closer to him, taking a seat in the chair next to where he’s sitting.

“Joelie,” he says. “You called me Joelie.” 

“Joelie, huh?” you mumble, half to Joel, half to yourself. “Was that all?”

Joel is looking off into the distance, the cool air is biting at his ears and nose. “No, there was a little more,”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“No, I don’t think so. No reason to,” he pauses for a second, remembering. “I’ve got a fuckin’ bone to pick with you, though.”

“Clearly,” you reply with a sarcastic tone. “What’d I do, other than call you handsome?”

“You fuckin’ pinched me. Again,” he turns to face you. “You have a real problem keepin’ your hands to yourself, you know that?” he scolds you angrily.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. “You probably deserved it! You always do, you’re such a dick,” 

Joel scoffs, it’s almost a chuckle. “Maybe. I wasn’t actin’ like a dick that night, though. Not enough to warrant you pinchin’ me,”

You’re puzzled. Why else would you pinch Joel, if not as a punishment for acting like an asshole? “Then why did I pinch you?”

Joel turns red then. Like, really blushes. His ears and cheeks are bright and rosy. He’s flamingo pink, just like Tommy said. 

“Why, Joel?”

“You said I have an ass like a uh…a peach,” he whispers. “And then you–”

It’s your turn to blush now. “No,” you interrupt. “I didn’t. Joel, tell me I didn’t pinch your ass.”

He nods, silently. 

“I am so fucking sorry, Joel,” you apologize frantically. You were a fucking menace!! “Please. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s fine, trouble. Was kinda cute, actually. You said I have eyes like coffee beans too. Never heard that one before,”

Trouble. 

“And that’s all?”

“You said you’ve got this great, big, humongous, gigantic crush on me,” he says through a sigh, his tone is defeated. Sarcastic, even. “That was really it, though.”

He doesn’t mention all the times you asked him to fuck you. He’s not a sadist, you’re embarrassed enough already. In fact, you’re so embarrassed and in your own head that you don’t even pick up on the sadness in his voice. 

You open your mouth to apologize, to explain. Joel speaks first. 

“Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean any of it,”

And then he sits up, making his way to step down off of your porch. He turns to you one more time before leaving, you can’t place his expression. He looks almost sullen, almost heartbroken. 

“Goodnight, trouble.” 

He leaves. Once again, you weaseled your way too close to his heart.

And that’s the last you really speak to Joel.

You’re not on patrol with Joel very often, but he’s even quieter when you are paired up. Not in the rude kind of way like at dinner, but in a sheepish sort of way. Like he’s embarrassed, or sad, or feels nervous to speak to you. The confident, cocky Joel is long gone. He rejects all of your attempts at conversation, and it leaves you heartbroken and baffled. 

If only he knew how you felt about him. If only he’d let you speak. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a chilly and rainy fall day, you and Joel are holed up in an old home on patrol together. It’s been maybe a month, a month and a half since that night on your porch.

He’s not really speaking to you, except to give you instructions here and there. You’re getting sick of his attitude. So standoffish and cold.

You wonder what went wrong that night. He was never all that friendly with you, but he was never like this. He looked right past you, like you were a phantom. Not really there.

You’re knitting your blanket, sitting on a window seat. The rain is pitter pattering against the glass. Joel is stoking the flames in the fireplace. The only sounds are the clicks of your knitting needles and the crackle of the fire. There’s a tupperware of snickerdoodles you brought for him, sitting untouched. It was your olive branch. He didn’t even thank you for them.

“What do you think of my blanket?” You hold the blanket up for him, various shades of green yarn arranged in a rippling pattern. 

Joel takes a quick glance, barely even looking, then grumbles something. 

“Joel? I didn’t hear you,”

“I said it’s fine,” he snaps at you.

You sigh, knitting your blanket furiously. What a fucking dick. “You know what? You don’t have to be such a fucking asshole all the time, you know that?”

“Fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“I said that you don’t have to be an asshole all the time,” you spit.

“I’m not–”

“You are. And I don’t even know why!” you laugh wryly. “All you do is fucking ignore me. And I don’t get it, Joel. I don’t know why I even try with you.”

Joel tries to speak, but you don’t let him. 

“I get it, okay? I made you uncomfortable when I called you handsome and pinched your ass and everything that night. I’m sorry,”

Joel is still stoking the fire, giving you no attention.

“I’m serious. I had a fucking brain injury, I had no control over my actions or my words. And I’m sorry,”

Joel’s not listening to your words. He’s so in his own head, he’s not absorbing any of it. All he hears you say is “I didn’t mean anything I said, I don’t feel anything towards you,” Rub it in some more, why don’t you? I’m not in love with you and I don’t think you have nice eyes like I said.

“I do have a little crush on you, okay? You do have nice eyes and a nice nose, and you’re the most handsome man I’ve met in my life. But it doesn’t give you the right to act like this,” you snapped. “I know it made you uncomfortable because I’m too young for you or whatever, so I want you to know I am sorry. Genuinely. Can you please drop the dickhead act now?”

Joel freezes, thrown off.

“Joel,” you demand. 

“Say that again,” he says. He’s looking at you finally.

“I’m sorry,” 

“No, not that,” he waves his hand. “About my nose.”

“I like your nose,”

Joel never liked his nose. But you do. The strong shape, the freckles and scars. It fits him perfectly. “You mean that?”

“Of course. Why else would I say it?” you say bitterly. God, he is so far up his own ass you wonder if he even knows what the sun looks like.

“Why?” he asks you, a smile is threatening to curl his lips upward. 

“The shape, I don’t know. Your freckles,” you say through a sigh. “That’s what you’re getting from this? Can you please just let me apologize for harassing you?”

“No,” he responds. “Tell me more. About my eyes, again.” Joel stands up now, looking at you from a few feet away.

You shake your head. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough for him? “Why? Thought I told you they look like coffee beans,”

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low, stepping toward you now. Your heartbeat picks up its pace as he considers his next move. He sits next to you at the window seat. He’s so in love, melting into a puddle before you. God, the way you’ve ruined him.  

“You have nice eyes. Dark and deep. I like the way they shine amber in the sun,” you whisper. You can’t help the growing smile on your face, the same smile when you’re alone and thinking of Joel’s handsome face. “Happy now, asshole?”

There’s a silent moment between you both after you speak, Joel’s looking at you in a way he never has before. The butterflies in your tummy flutter a little faster now, his eyes darting back and forth between your own and your lips. 

“Joel,” you sigh, “Quit looking at me like that.” Your words are more desperate than you intend them to be. You wanted to sound more stern, like him. 

He doesn’t say anything as he carefully places his hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping back and forth against your skin. Your eyes flutter shut. 

He takes the opportunity to pull you close, his lips just millimeters away from yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I wasn’t bein’ fair to ya. You said all those things to me when you weren’t in your right mind,” he trails off, bowing his head. “I’m no good at this.”

“Try me,” you whisper back, your eyes still closed. 

“I don’t know, trouble,”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. They’re big and full of adoration and insecurity, a brutal combination. “Thought it wasn’t real?”

Joel can only nod. The man who always has something to say, suddenly choking on his words. His hand is still on your cheek, holding you steady. 

You want to kiss him, so badly. You want to kiss him with every fiber in your being. But you fight it. He’s going to be the one to kiss you, it’s going to be how you always pictured it. This, you’re certain of. 

Joel’s eyes are frantic and unsure. 

It feels like minutes. 

Hours. 

Days. 

An eternity before he finally does it. And then finally, he kisses you, slowly and gently. It takes you by surprise, sweeps you off your feet. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, he tastes so distinctly Joel. You sigh and moan against his lips as his tongue mingles with your own, you curse yourself for the desperation you exhibit. As if he cares. 

You kiss like that for a while, softly. His gentle and loving kisses are a stark contrast to his gruff and domineering personality on patrol. He’s dissolving under your lips, feeling love he’s not felt in a very long time. Everything he can’t say with his voice he says with his kisses. 

You break the kiss, trailing your lips down his jaw, the scratchy hairs of his beard feel amazing on your skin. You kiss down his neck, something you’ve fantasized about thousands of times. 

“Wait,” he rasps out. 

You pull away, noticing the tent in his jeans. “Want me to stop?”

“Yes,” he breathes. Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts slightly. “No. Not like that. I just, I want to do this right. Treat you right.”

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you speak into his neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle as you continue kissing his skin, trailing back up his thick neck and nibbling at his ear. He’s panting and moaning beneath you, you never expected he’d fall apart like this. “You know,” he starts, “You told me you wanted me to fuck you when you had your concussion.” Your face grows red and you stop kissing him for a second. “Did not,”

“Did too,”

You ignore him and pretend like he didn’t just tell you that. You kiss his skin, it’s hot and slightly salty. You feel his pulse under your lips and then, you pull away. 

His brows furrow as you smile. He’s so fucking cute like this, way cuter than any fifty-something man should be. “Your turn. Tell me what you think of me, then we can continue,” 

Joel’s confidence is back and fully fledged now, it’s a welcome return. “I think you’re nothin’ but trouble. Honestly and truly,” 

“Yeah?”

“S’right. Makin’ me fat with your damn cookies. Makin’ me crazy with all your pinches. And you’ve got me fallin’ in love now. You’re a goddamn troublemaker, and I’ve known it since the day I met you,” 

It’s everything you ever wanted to hear Joel say. He’s falling for you.

He continues, “And when we get back, I get a redo. Doin’ this the right way with you, baby. Gonna make you dinner and all that. Like a gentleman,”

“You better,” you mumble, kissing him again. Your hands find their way to his jeans, fumbling with his belt. His cock grows harder beneath you, he swats your hands away and helps you free it, his member springing up between you both. 

You kneel in front of him, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. You lick a long stripe from the bottom all the way to the top of his dick, swirling your tongue around the blushed tip. “Troublemaker,” he sighs. “Don’t tease me now, sweetheart. Please, baby.” His eyes are screwed shut, face contorted in pleasure.

You love the way he calls you baby. And troublemaker. And sweetheart. You’ll be his baby and his sweetheart and his troublemaker for the rest of your life. 

You take him into your mouth, tongue paining his cock with swirls of saliva. His cock parts your lips, you love the smoothness of his skin. He tastes like skin and slightly salty, you hum against him as he bucks into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,”

You bob your head up and down, making a sloppy mess of saliva all over his lap. He pulls you off, suddenly. 

“My turn,” is all he grumbles when he picks you up and drags you to the couch in front of the fireplace. He makes short work of discarding your clothes, unbuttoning your jeans and your jacket and shirt. You’re naked in front of him, suddenly feeling vulnerable. You cover your breasts and bring your knees to your chest.

He notices and promptly begins removing his own clothing. “I know, I know,” he soothes you. “Evening out the playing field and all. Don’t hide from me now, I’m gonna make it right. You’re fucking beautiful, baby.” 

He’s naked now, kneeling in front of you and spreading your thighs apart. Your pussy is wet and glistening for him, you feel his hot breath on your center. He looks at you with wide eyes, his silent way of asking permission. You answer him clearly by carding your fingertips through his scalp, tugging on his head to where you need him most. You thrust your hips towards him, begging him with your body. 

“Eager, are we?” he mumbles. “Been dreamin’ of eatin this pussy, baby.” 

“Please,” you beg him. 

“Since you asked so nicely, trouble,” 

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t spend any time kissing and biting your thighs. He dives right in, his tongue exploring your most intimate parts. It trails up your lips, through your folds. His tongue dips in your wet hole, tasting your slick. You jolt and gasp his name at the feeling. Your thighs clamp around his head, his scratchy beard is abrasive against your flesh. You welcome the feeling. 

He parts your thighs again then, a little rougher than the first time. His tongue slides through your wetness once more, then finds home at your clit, swollen and needy. He flicks upward, alternating between long and languid licks and short and quick kitten licks. One of his hands meet your center, his middle two fingers enter your pussy and punch upward until he finds the spot that makes you tick. He hasn’t touched a woman in a long time, but still remembers all the best ways to make her see stars. 

“Fuck, like that,” you gasp out. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Joel says nothing as he eats your pussy, sucking and licking at your center. It’s not long before you’re coming undone on his tongue, your slickness making a mess of his face. Your moans are breathy and quick, he savors each one. His eyes are wide and dark with lust.

Barely recovered from your high, you grasp and paw at his shoulders, encouraging him to come up and meet you for another kiss. You taste yourself on his lips.

“Need you now, Joelie,” you breathe, breaking the kiss. 

His nickname still sounds just as sweet as the first time you whispered it, all those nights ago. 

“‘Course, trouble. I’ve got you.” he says against your skin, his tongue darting out to play with your nipples. He’s dragging the tip of his cock through your folds. “How do you want me?”

“Just like this, please. Just fuck me,”

Your wish is his command. He slides the tip into you slowly at first, making sure it’s not too much. It’s not, of course

He pushes into you all the way, you sigh in pleasure at the fullness. He fits inside you perfectly, like he was made for you. His tip presses at that sweet spot inside you with each thrust, almost effortlessly. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans. 

“Yeah, Joelie. Just like that, baby. Don’t stop,” 

He fucks you like that, not too hard and not too soft. A deliciously and devastatingly pleasant pace, with such care and love. 

And then the lightbulb goes off in your head. His butt!! 

How you wish you remembered pinching his ass that night. 

“Joel?” your voice is clear, not moaning or breathy. 

He stills inside you, taking heaving breaths on top of you, like it’s taking everything he’s got not to keep going. He looks at you with concern, afraid that he might have hurt you. “Everything okay? What do you need?” 

“Can I squeeze your butt?” 

Joel says nothing, just looks at you with a puzzled expression. He furrows his brows and squints at you before rolling his eyes.

Hey, at least you’re asking permission this time. 

“Please?”

“Yeah, dummy. It’s all yours, now. Don’t wear it out,” he grumbles, but you hear the playfulness in his tone. 

You giggle, reaching down to grasp a handful of his ass. It’s round, plump and fleshy. You dig your nails in slightly, pinching him a little. He winces slightly, shaking his head at your mischievous expression. Your eyes are bright and silly with your bottom lip pinned under your teeth in a grin.

“Hey now, trouble” he scolds you with a smile. “Behave.”

He kisses you, continuing his motions. His thrusts are so fluid and confident, you’re getting closer now, so is he. 

“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “Can’t hold off much longer. What do you need?”

You pull one of his hands from above your head and place it at your center. “Circles, please,” 

He adjusts his grip on the arm of the couch and moves his fingers to your clit, slick with your wetness and his spit from before. “You got it,”

His thrusts become sloppier, he’s letting out strangled gasps and groans. You’re moaning, crying his name as your orgasm begins to bloom inside of you. It’s intense and hot, it feels like sparks through your blood. 

“Joel, Joel,” is all you can say. He fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Fuck, Joelie.”

“I know, I know. I’m right there. Hang on for me baby, doin’ so good,” 

With a few more shuttering thrusts he’s spilling inside of you, painting your insides with his hot come. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, and he slumps on top of you. His skin is hot and sweaty, you don’t mind. You’ve been dreaming of his body pinning your own down for ages. 

You stay like that, just catching your breath together. He kisses your neck as your fingertips trail up and down his back. “I love you so much, Joel,” you whisper. “I really do.”

“Love you too, sweet girl,” he says softly. You love the way his voice sounds here, soft and gentle. All for you and no one else. 

He pulls out of you then, you whine at the loss. He lunges off the couch to reach for the tupperware container of snickerdoodles you baked for him.  

He pulls off the lid, grabbing a handful of cookies and shoving one in his mouth. Apparently Joel was still a typical man, snacking after sex. 

You giggle, grab a cookie of your own and kiss his cheek. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you close to watch the flames in the fireplace dance. 

“God, you’re evil,” he says, his voice muffled by the cookies in his mouth. “Force feedin’ me cookies and makin’ me fat.”

“Busted. You got me,” you say, smiling. “Gotta keep your ass nice and squeezable, hm? It was my devious plan all along. You figured it out, Sherlock.”

“Shut up. Fuckin’ troublemaker,”

tags:

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @harriedandharassed @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @@spideysimpossiblegirl

(if you don't see your @, i got rid of the ones tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Leave me a comment if you'd like to be on the taglist!)

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #tlou #brain scramblies

[black-aurora-nora]

Sibling Squabbles | Yandere!Superman and Jon x Teen!Reader

“Jon, please get out the way.” You demanded in an even tone.

The younger boy didn’t budge from his spot in front of the door. His gaze held firm and he shook his head, “Dad said you couldn’t leave.”

“Clark doesn’t hold authority over me.” You reminded him matter of factly, “He’s not my father and I’m not your sister.”

Jon frowned deeply at your words, “Dad said you’d have a hard time-“

“Move, Jon!” You demanded again, louder.

You moved up to him, trying to shuffle past him with your backpack filled with a few essentials.

“Where would you even go?! You were homeless before this!”

“And? At least I wasn’t stuck in some house with creepy men!” You rebutted angrily, grabbing for the doorknob.

Jon grabbed your wrist, gripping it tight, “I’m not creepy! And neither is my dad! Take that back!” He knew that his dad told him to be gentle with you since you were still settling down but you were going too far.

“No! I mean it! You’re creepy!” You repeated sharply, trying to wrestle your wrist from Jon’s grip. “Ugh! It’s no wonder your mom left-!”

A sickening crack sounded from your wrist and you saw it crinkle in a way it wasn’t supposed to then a horrible pain that left you screaming from both the shock of what happened and the pain.

Jon stood frozen, breathing uneven.

He looked from your crumpled arm to your snotty face.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you. His father had warned him plenty of times to use his powers for good and here he was hurting you because you said something hurtful.

“I-I’m- (Y/N), I’m so-!” He reached out to you and you jerked back violently with a yelp.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” You snapped, opening the door with your good hand and running out towards the trail that led to the city.

Jon decided it best that he not follow you.

He knew you wouldn’t escape now anyhow. You were far too hurt and in too much shock to get far enough. And no one would allow a young teen like you to walk around with a broken arm if you did make it to the city.

The next time he saw you, which was a day later, his father had brought you back home with a blue cast on your arm.

You looked exhausted, pissed off, and every other negative emotion that people could feel.

Clark had you both in the living room and glanced at the two of you sternly. He looked at you first with an expectant gaze.

“(Y/N), apologize to your brother.” He said, arms crossed.

You kept your gaze on the cast for a moment.

A deep breath in, “Sorry.”

“You can do better than that.” Clark wasn’t one that took apologies lightly. You had to put your full heart into it. “Remember what we talked about at the doctor’s.”

Another deep breath, “Sorry for saying stuff about your mother.” You gritted out, “And about you… I didn’t mean it.” Your voice was incredibly monotone but Clark knew that was the best they were going to get from you right now.

He knew there’d be plenty more altercations in the future to teach you how to apologize properly and honestly.

He turned to Jon, “Be more careful in the future,” He reminded him simply, “And apologize to your sister.”

Jon’s lip wobbled as he gazed at you and you wished great harm upon him. How dare he act like he was the one that had been victimized? Like he was innocent?

How dare Clark make you apologize first when Jon had hurt you? Now you were stuck in a cast and had been set back.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I won’t do that ever again and I forgive you.” He gave you a teary smile, “I know you’re having a hard time and I should’ve kept my anger in check.”

Clark smiled warmly, “Try to keep the sibling squabble to a minimum, okay, you two?” He patted you both on the head.

He then stood up and made his way to the kitchen, “Who wants breakfast?” He asked, tying an apron around his person, “I’m thinking waffles, eggs and bacon!”

Jon licked his lips, “I’ll have some! Can I help?!” He asked excitedly, running after his father.

“Of course you can, Jon.” You heard Clark answer from the kitchen, “(Y/N), come join us.”

God you hated them with every fiber of your being.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenario #yandere x y/n #yandere family #family #cw injury #tw implied kidnapping #tw injury #siblings #dc cómics #superman #clark kent #jon kent #cussing #tw cursing #tw manipulation #yandere blog #yandere superman #yandere superfam

[transmutationisms]

serious question but do you personally believe there is a way to approach psychiatry in a way that uplifts and upholds patient autonomy and wellness or is the entire trade essentially fucked haha. Btw this is an ask coming from a 3rd year med student—with a background of severe mental illness—who is considering a residency in psychiatry after receiving life-saving care in high school pertaining to said conditions. (I have peers who have been involuntarily hospitalized and treated horribly in psych wards, with approaches i patently disagree with, but was lucky not to experience. I don’t like modern american medicine’s approach to mental illness; “throw pills” at it to “make it go away” ie. a problem of overprescribing, inadequate and non-holistic approach to mental health, and i feel a lot of that can be attributed to the capitalistic framework. I also def agree with you that so much of what can be considered normal human responses to traumatic events/normal human suffering can be unnecessarily pathologized—a great example being the whole “chemical imbalances in the brain is the ONLY reason why im like this” argument that ive unfortunately fallen hard for when i was younger and am still currently dismantling within myself…and like dont even get me started on this field’s history of demonizing POC, women, LGBT, etc). Like i deeply love my psych rotations so far, and i utterly feel in my gut that this is the manner in which i would like to help people—a lot of whom are just like me—but im wondering if there is a way to reconcile these aspects in a way that one can feel morally okay participating within such an imperfect system, in ur opinion… ngghhhhhh i just want to be a good doctor to my patients…

(ps i love all ur writing and analysis on succession!! big fan mwah <333)

i don't mean to sound unduly pissy at you, specifically, but i do have to say: every single time i've talked about antipsych or broader criticism of medicine on this website, i immediately get a wave of responses like this, from doctors/nurses/psychs/students of the above, asking me to, like, reassure them that they're not doing something immoral or un-communist or whatever by having or pursuing these jobs. and it's honestly frustrating. why is it that these conversations get re-framed around this particular line of inquiry and medical ego-soothing? why is it that when i say "the medical encounter is not structured to protect patient autonomy or well-being," so many people hear something more along the lines of "doctors are mean and i wish they were nicer"? why is it that it's impossible to discuss the philosophical and structural violence of academic and clinical medicine without it becoming a referendum on the individual morality of doctors?

i'm choosing to read you in good faith because i think it's possible to re-re-frame this line of questioning to demonstrate to you the sorts of critiques and inquiries i find more interesting and more conducive to patient autonomy and liberation. so, let me pick apart a few lines of this ask.

"is the entire trade essentially fucked?"

if you're thinking of trying to 'reform' the project of medical psychology within existing infrastructures and institutions, then yeah, it's fucked. if you're still assuming that affective distress can only be 'treated' within this medical apparatus (despite, again, no psychiatric dx satisfying any pathologist's understanding of a 'disease' ie an aberration from 'normal' physiological functioning) then you're not challenging the things that actually make psychiatry violent. you're simply fantasising about making the violence nicer.

"I don’t like modern american medicine’s approach to mental illness; “throw pills” at it to “make it go away” ie. a problem of overprescribing, inadequate and non-holistic approach to mental health, and i feel a lot of that can be attributed to the capitalistic framework."

i hate when i talk about psychotropic drugs being marketed to patients using lies like the chemical imbalance myth, and then pushed on patients—including through outright force—by psychiatrists, and the discussion gets re-framed as one about 'overprescribing'. my problem is not with people taking drugs. i am, in fact, so pro-drugs that i think even the ones administered in a clinical setting sometimes have value. my issue is with, again, the provision of misleading or outright false information, the use of force and coercion to put patients on such drugs in order to force social conformity and employability, and the general model of medicine and medical psychology that assumes patients ought to be passive recipients of medical enlightenment rather than active participants in their own treatment who are given the agency to decide when and how to engage with any form of curative or meliorative intervention.

'holistic' medicine and psychiatry do not solve this problem! they are not a paradigm shift because they continue to locate expertise and epistemological authority with the credentialed physician, and to position patients as too sick, stupid, or helpless to do anything but receive and comply with the medical interventions. there are certainly psychotropic drugs that are demonstrably more harmful than others (antipsychotics, for example), and some that are demonstrably prescribed to patients who do not benefit from them and are even harmed by them. conversely, there are certainly forms of intervention besides pharmaceuticals that people may find helpful. but my general critique here is aimed less at haggling over specific methods of intervention, and more at the ideological and philosophical tenets of medicine that cause any interventions to be imposed by force or coercion on patients, then framed as being 'for their own good'. were suffering people given the information and autonomy to actually choose whether and how to engage in any kind of intervention, some might still choose drugs! my position here is not one of moralising drugs, but making the act of taking them one that is freely chosen and available as an option without relying on physician determination of a patient's interests over their own assessment of their needs and wants.

"so much of what can be considered normal human responses to traumatic events/normal human suffering can be unnecessarily pathologized"

true, but don't misunderstand me as saying that drugs or any other form of intervention should be forcibly withheld from those who do want them and are made fully aware of what risks and harms seeking them could entail. again, this would still be an authoritarian model; my critique is aimed at increasing patient autonomy, not at creating equally authoritarian and empowered doctors who just have slightly different treatment philosophies.

"dont even get me started on this field’s history of demonizing POC, women, LGBT, etc"

ok, framing this as "demonisation" tells me that you're not understanding that, again, this is a systemic and structural critique. it is certainly true that a great many doctors currently are, and have historically have been, outright racist, trans/misogynist, ableist, and so on. framing this as a problem of a well-intentioned discipline being corrupted by some assholes is getting it backwards. medicine attracts prejudiced people, not to mention strengthens and promotes these prejudices in its entire training and practice infrastructures, because of its underlying philosophical orientation toward enforcing 'normality' as defined by 18th-century statistics and 19th-century human sciences that explicitly place white, cis, able-bodied european men as the normal ideal that everyone else is inferior to or failing to live up to. doctors who really nicely tell you that you're too fat are still using bmi charts that come from the statistical anthropometry of adolphe quételet and the flawed actuarial calculations of metlife insurance. doctors who really nicely deny you access to transition surgery are still operating under a paradigm that gives the practitioner authority over expressions and embodiments of gender. the issue isn't 'demonisation', it's that medicine and psychiatry explicitly attempt to render judgments about who and what is 'normal' and therefore socially 'healthy', and enforce those standards on patients. this is not a promotion of patient well-being, but of social conformity.

"i deeply love my psych rotations so far, and i utterly feel in my gut that this is the manner in which i would like to help people"

let me ask you a few questions. you say that you like your psych rotations... but how do your patients feel about them? is their autonomy protected? are they in treatment by free choice, and free to leave any time they wish? are they treated as human beings with full self-determination? if you witnessed a situation in which a patient was coerced or forced into a certain treatment, or in which you were not sure whether they were consenting with full knowledge or freedom, would you feel empowered to intervene? or would doing so threaten your career by exposing you to anger and retaliation from your higher-ups? what higher-ups will you be exposed to as a resident, and then as a practicing physician? could you practice in a way that committed fully, 100%, to patient autonomy if you were working at someone else's practice, or in a hospital or clinic? could you, according to current medical guidelines, even if you had your own practice?

when you say "this is the manner in which i would like to help people", what do you mean by "this"? can you define your philosophy of treatment, and the relationship and power dynamic you want to have with any future patients? is it one in which you hold authority over them and see yourself as determining what's in their 'best interests', even over their own expressed wishes? have you connected with patient advocates, psych survivors (other than your friends), and radical psychiatrists and anti-psychiatrists who may espouse heterodox treatment philosophies that you could consider? do you think such philosophies are sufficient for protecting patient autonomy and well-being, or are they still models that position the physician's judgment and authority over that of the patient?

"im wondering if there is a way to reconcile these aspects in a way that one can feel morally okay participating within such an imperfect system"

and here is the crux of the problem with this entire ask. you are wondering how to sleep at night, if you are participating in a career you find morally distasteful. where, though, do your patients enter into that equation? do you worry about how they sleep at night, after having interacted with a system of social violence that may very well have traumatised them under the guise of providing help? why does your own guilty conscience worry you more than violations of your patients' bodies, minds, and basic self-determination?

i can't tell you whether your career path is morally acceptable to you. i don't think this type of guilt or self-flagellation is fruitful and i don't think it helps protect patients. i don't, frankly, have a handy roadmap sitting around for creating a new system of medicine and health care that rests on patient autonomy. affective distress is real, and is not something we should have to bear alone or with the risk of having violence inflicted upon us. what you need to ask yourself is: how does the medical model and establishment serve people experiencing such distress? how does it perpetuate violence against them? and how do you see yourself countering, or perpetuating, such violence as someone operating within this discipline? what would it mean to be a 'good' actor within a violent system, if you do indeed believe that such a thing is ontologically possible?

#sorry for LONG ASS POST #psychiatry

[wannaeatramyeon]

More Gun + Goo Shenanigans

Credit Card

The first message came through at 8am.

Accompanied with 'oops, forgot mine. using yours. hope you don't mind 🥺🫰 '

And usually Gun would mind. He would mind a whole fucking lot. But when you're in a junkyard moulding your masterpiece, having left most of your usual everyday carry at home. Well. You have bigger fish to fry. Or a smaller Daniel Park to cook.

Besides, it's probably just an energy drink anyway if the amount and the blonde's habits are anything to go buy. Gun can let it slide just for today, that for some reason Goo has desided to forgo any contactless payment and use Gun's card. Whatever.

And then the next messages from his bank continue to come through.

8:32am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

8:56am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:17am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:25am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:30am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:33am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:34am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

Ok. That's enough.

Gun angrily dials Goo. Seriously. "What the fu-"

"Sup man!" Goo sounds completely manic and shrill. Likely about to buzz out of his head.

"Did you just pound 7 coffees and an energy drink?"

"7 doubles and an energy drink," the voice on the other end corrects.

"I'm cancelling my card."

"No wait-"

Family friendly

"What you crying for kid? Never seen someone so handsome before?" Goo flashes his most winning smile. The one where it's all teeth and maybe a touch feral.

Understandably, the kid, probably no older than 8, wails even louder.

What. the. fuck.

That's what you get for trying to be family friend huh. Goo starts scowling at her, now inconsolable with fear.

Honestly. How dare she take one look at his face and burst out into tears.

Where the fuck are her parents.

Gun would have intervened; they have places to be, things to do. If only the whole situation wasn't so entertaining.

Especially as he now looks over and finds his partner in a bizarre stand-off where Goo's face darkens the more the kid cries, and the kid cries the more terrifying Goo's face becomes.

"This lil motherfucker-" Wait. A lightbulb goes off in Goo's head and he forces all the cheer he can into his voice. "Kid, come look at this!"

She looks up just in time to see Goo whipping the sunglasses from Gun.

Her daddy has warned her about this. The red scar. The eyes. Pitch black. DEMON.

She runs off screaming and flailing as Goo cackles.

Hospital

"Why is it when something happens, it's always you two."

"Just want to see your pretty face again, cutie!"

The elderly nurse sighs. She's experienced far too much, is too weather beaten, for Goo Kim's flowery words to have any effect on her.

Completing her last rounds before her shift finishes, she just wants to finish and then go. Have a bath. Lie in bed. Lo and behold, she has these two idiots appearing once more in the private wing.

Hmm. It had been a few weeks since she last saw them.

She rifles through the clipboard, checking the doctor's notes. "So what are you in for?"

"Fighting." Gun, on the next bed, answers.

"...And you both ended up with neck braces?"

"Yep! We got a little rough. You know how these things are," Goo chirps, light tone contrasting with his eyes angrily glaring at Gun.

"...It says pillow fight here."

"Yep!"

That doesn't sound right. " And what were the pillows filled with?"

A brief pause, where they exchange shifty glances before piping up together, "Rocks."

Outfits

"That looks great on you,"

"I know."

Gun ignores Crystal fawning over Goo. Completely ignores them and the vein throbbing on his temple.

He absolutely will not concern himself with such juvenile things.

Barely remembers the first time he wore the same outfit, picking Crystal up and accompanying her to J-High, she took one look at his outfit and held back a giggle.

He doesn't give a shit. He has more important things to think about.

Or when Goo raided his wardrobe, rifling through outfits, laughed at this monstrosity and then asked if he could have it, Gun just shrugged. He has no attachment to it.

And now Gun absolutely doesn't care that Goo is on the receiving end for his outfit.

Who gives a shit.

Gun Park is above this nonsense. So what if he is daydreaming about strangling the life out of Goo in that stupid shirt and stupid scarf.

It's no different than usual, he always fantasises about killing Goo.

It's fine.

And one I accidentally deleted: Spice Eating Contest

"...What's wrong with you two?" Kouji, face completely repulsed, watches his two hyungs scarfing down the ramen in front of him.

The store's spiciest, apparently. Renowned, Crystal had said. Three please, Kouji had asked. And when it arrived? Disappointment. Spicy? Not by a long shot. Barely even having any heat.

The same can't be said for Gun and Goo's palate, tears streaming down their sweaty beet red faces, snot flowing freely and ew. Likely mingling with everything else.

"It's not spicy at all!" Goo spits, mouth full of ramen and glowering at Gun.

"Who said it was spicy, idiot." Gun retaliates, eyes leaking even more as he shoves in another mouthful.

"Umm. Guys. You need to be careful-" Kouji tries, but to no avail. Both now too busy trying to swallow inbetween coughing fits.

Oh well.

He did try to warn them.

Guess they will just have to deal with the aftermath once the spice works its way through their digestive system and wrecks their body for a second time.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism headcanons #lookism fic #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #gun park #park jonggun #kim joongoo #goo kim #wannaeatramyeon

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 20 -> CH 21

Tagging:@roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl @s-0lar @kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey @mayathepsychic1999 @x-prettyboy-x @rorylover71 @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

Jack had made progress, real progress that he was happy to report to Dr. Carty. He had attended one of the meetings Y/n suggested and as corny as it sounded, he felt less alone in the struggles of his past that he had a hard time remembering. He received some legitimate guidance on searching for answers through old media. The man that ran the survivors group had a similar story to Jack's only he was lost in the foster care system and passed around between pedophiles collecting state checks.

He explained to Jack that media searches aren't the best way to access your past trauma. He suggested petitioning to have the court records opened for his own mental health. It meant getting a lawyer or an advocate but if Jack really wanted to pick at the scab of his trauma, he had the best place to start.

"I felt like a fucking idiot when I started crying. Shit just got super overwhelming really fast but they didn't really press me to keep talking which was great. Gave me time to collect myself and actually hear other people talking about their own shit." Jack explained.

"How did it make you feel having a small group of strangers telling you their stories?" Dr. Carty asked.

"Honestly, it was sad. This shit happens too often. There needs to be a better system in place, a better reporting center. I actually talked to some of the people in the group afterwards, exchanged some emails..." He trailed off knowing Dr. Carty would make a comment.

"You made friends!" He said gleefully making Jack roll his eyes.

"You say that like I'm a total shut in." Jack argued earning a laugh.

"As your doctor, I can confirm you just now started going out to get your groceries instead of having them delivered." Dr. Carty joked as Jack pulled into the driveway.

"I'm proud of Jack. You're making such amazing progress in your healing. The crying is a release. Don't fight it so much." Jack nodded his head.

"Well I made it home in one piece and I've got to send Y/n a text thanking her for the recommendation." Jack turned the car off and started to gather his things.

"She's provided a lot of healing for you Jack. You should keep her around. You need that positive push." Dr. Carty said confidently. Jack didn't disagree. Before he could respond, her name lit up on his phone.

"She's actually calling me now so-"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night Jack." Dr. Carty bid him farewell and he clicked over the call.

"I was just thinking about you." Jack said with a smile.

"Oh yeah? With or without clothes?" She teased.

"Well now I'm thinking about you without clothes but that's your own fault." He laughed.

"I wanted to call and check on you but I also wanted to let you know I might have left you some stuff inside your house." Jack froze on his porch.

"You broke into my house?" He asked looking over to her house.

"Of course not...I used the key." She said firmly. Jack opened the front door carefully and could smell food.

"You broke in to make me dinner?" He laughed.

"Again, I used the key. I didn't cook it. I had it ordered. I figured today would be draining so I wanted you to come home and not worry about feeding yourself." Y/n explained as he walked over to see brown bag sitting atop the counter. He opened and it smelled heavenly.

"It should still be warm but you can heat it up in the package if it needs to be." Jack pulled the box of spaghetti out and took a bit of the bread.

"You can break into my house anytime." He said with a mouthful of food. She laughed on the other end of the line.

"That's not all...I also left you something to keep you company tonight on your bed." Jack stopped eating and climbed the stairs.

"This feels like Christmas." He joked. When he got to the top of the steps he saw Ace sitting on his bed.

"Oh hey buddy! You came to visit me." Jack's voice changed to baby talk for the pup as he leaned down to snuggle him.

"I figured you could use the company and he's been missing you." Jack almost forgot he was on the phone and he picked Ace up in his arms.

"You know one of these nights, I won't be on the backend of an emotional breakdown and I'm going to ask you out on a date. You better be prepared with a better excuse to not say yes than trauma bonding." Jack said with a smile. She chuckled.

"I've got to get back to work but I'll give you a call later okay? Just to make sure you're settled in and don't need anything." Jack hung up the phone and took Ace down stairs with him to eat dinner. He spent his evening making a grocery list, feeding Ace and turning on the TV for a change. He left Ace to watch the TV while he showered and it was around 11PM when he was finally snuggling down with the pup.

He was started to get comfortable and when his phone vibrated. He smiled seeing Y/n was facetiming him. She was still in her scrubs but looked like she was in the bathroom about to clean herself up for bed.

"Well aren't you two the cutest thing I've ever seen?" She smiled seeing Ace sleeping on Jack's chest.

"Don't be jealous he loves me more than you." She chuckled.

"I won't keep you up, just wanted to make sure you were okay." She kept her eyes on them and Jack smiled.

"Today was a lot but it felt good. I definitely needed it. Thank you for the recommendation." Jack watched her take her hair down and wipe her face with a makeup wipe.

"Of course. I'm so happy that it was able to give you some support." She said as Jack watched her carefully.

"Was the food okay?" She asked not looking at him as she continued to get ready for bed.

"How long do I have to wait before I ask you out again?" He ignored her question and she looked at her phone, stopping what she was doing and smiled at him.

"Sleep on it tonight. If you wake up and feel good, you can ask me then. I just want you to wait until you're ready and when you are, I will say yes." She explained making him smile.

"I'll hold you to that." He said with a sleepy smile.

"Get some rest Jack. I will talk to you tomorrow." She said seeing how tired he was. He nodded his head.

"Goodnight Y/n." The screen went black and he let out a sigh. He had never felt so content in this moment. For the first time in a long time, he was hopeful for what was to come.

#Jack Goes Home #Jack Thurlow #Jack Thurlow x Y/n #Glass Houses #Glass Houses Series #One Shot Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #20/38

[samcscreams]

Inspired by the absolutely talented @dreamersbcll

————————————————————————

It had not been an easy week for one Sam Carpenter. Hell it hasn’t been an easy life for her either but that’s beside the point. Because here she is standing in front of her baby sister mouth hanging open, words completely evading her mind as she realizes she’s been caught.

Caught red handed.

No not caught with drugs.

Nor alcohol.

Not even a boy or a girl.

No, Samantha Carpenter has been caught doing the one thing she vowed to never do in front of her precious baby sister.

She was caught talking to her father.

As you see the week started off normal, Sam, on her way to work stopped by CVS to pick up her prescription. Only to be greeted with the worst possible news other than another ghost face attack.

“Sorry there’s a shortage this month. We won’t be able to fill your prescription until next week at the earliest.” The pharmacist told Sam

Sam just stood there

“Ma’am? Did you hear me?” The pharmacist asked

“Ya um sorry so there’s no way I could get anything? Maybe a different drug for the same thing?” Sam asked timidly. Her hands were starting to shake at the implication of not having her prescription for over a week.

“That would require a new prescription sent in by your doctor” the pharmacist said matter of factly

“Right.” Sam stood there awkwardly feeling like she should have known that and that her desperation was starting to become detectable.

The pharmacist looked over Sams shoulder and yelled “next” causing Sam to jump and hurry out of the building.

Getting back in her car Sam let out a deep breath realizing she hadn’t breathed since the pharmacist told her the news. She gripped the steering wheel to steady herself as she caught her breath.

Only her breath wouldn’t catch.

Great a panic attack just what she needed. Her vision blurred as her breathing continued out of control. With shaky hands she tried to grab her phone.

Tara. She needed Tara’s voice. It was the one thing guaranteed to bring Sam back. But her hands were so shaky she couldn’t put in her password.

“Fuck”

She exhaled as tears pricked the back of her eyes. If god was real he had answered her prayers. Her phone was ringing and Tara’s beautiful name was flashing across the screen. She hit answer and before she could even say anything.

“Have you seen my English book? I know I was reading it on the couch last night but now it’s not here. Did you move it?” Tara says in one big breath

Hearing Tara instantly brought a wave of relaxation over Sam.

“I put it on your desk in your room. Didn’t want you to forget it.” Sam said sounding almost normal

“Are you okay?” Tara asked knowing something seemed off

“Oh ya just running late for work again” Sam felt guilty it wasn’t a lie per-say but it wasn’t the truth.

“Why are you late again? You left on time. Wait I found it.” Tara told her sister

“Great you should try and keep better track of your books they’re ridiculously expensive” Sam rebuttal choosing to ignore the first part of Tara’s questioning

“Well maybe next time you shouldn’t move my books. I have a very intricate organization method and your honestly messing it up”

Sam chuckled at her sister’s comment

“Okay okay I’ll leave your stuff alone. But I would reconsider that maybe the middle of the floor is a poor place for a book.”

“Ya ya ya get to work.”

“Okay fine. Love you baby girl”

“Love you too. Bye”

And just like that Sam was as good as new. Well for the most part. Sam raced off to work hoping the day would get better. It was only Monday morning and Her stomach turned at the thought of the rest of the week.

Tuesday was normal until Sam was about to head home and her car wouldn’t start. Causing her to use the subway. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. She mentally prepared herself for the stares and interactions she might face riding the subway. Luckily for Sam she made it home with only a few insults thrown her way. But as she was throwing herself onto her bed she couldn’t help but to think this was tuning into a week from hell.

Wednesday it all started to crumble. As Sam was riding the subway to work that morning she was accompanied by her father. In every window and reflection he was there lurking in the dark. It was like he could smell her fear, using it to latch on to her like a shadow. Maybe if she wasn’t caught in a staring contest with him in the window Sam might have seen the three high school boys readying themselves to dump whatever drinks they had on her. Her boss didn’t appreciate her new and improved work uniform. She was sent home with a warning. She just hoped tomorrow would be better. She had the day off and could really use it.

Thursday. It was only Thursday? She thought to herself as she woke up. It was 5 in the morning and time for her daily run. She normally would run later in the day when the sun was more out. But sleep was evading her and running seemed like a sweet escape she couldn’t refuse.

He was getting louder.

She needed every distraction she could today. Unfortunately, Tara had her long lecture today so Sam would be home most of the day alone. She couldn’t tell if she was happy about that or not. Half of her liked the idea that she would be alone. She wouldn’t have to fear anyone seeing her in this state of mind. But the other half craves to be seen, to be taken care of as she slowly descends into her unmediated mind.

“You’re a fighter Sam not a runner. When are you gonna except that” Billy’s voice was low and sharp in Sams mind. She new better than to look at her reflection as she got ready.

Sam left a note on the table for Tara before she left.

Couldn’t sleep. Went for a run. Have a good lecture. Love you

Running was good. Running felt safe. Sam could play her music as loud as she needed and push herself until her body no longer felt real. It was a runners high and she was addicted. Before she knew it she was back at their apartment building out of breath and in dire need of a shower.

Sam left her music on for as long as she could. It didn’t fix the problem but it definitely made it more manageable. After her shower she was about to make something to eat when her speaker died.

“No no no no not now” she said rushing to try and find a charger or her headphones. Both items seemingly fell into a void and disappeared.

“Can’t tune me out now. Can ya Sam”

Sam rolled her eyes. Great now she’s interacting. She can’t do this. She knows she can’t.

“Really Sam you’re gonna just ignore me.”Sam used to be good at it. It wasn’t until she started to understand herself more that tuning him out got harder.

“You know that never works.” He knows just way to say to get under her skin.

Sam starts pacing around her room. Covering her ears as if that would somehow make it stop.

“Is this really any way to treat your father. You need me Sam. Without me you’d be dead. Tara would be dead”

“With out you she would be alive. Truly alive and normal. She wouldn’t have to watch her back every day. Her connection to you. To me. Is what puts her in danger” Sam snapped back. She was yelling at this point her anger was getting the better of her.

He was everywhere. In every picture frame and mirror. In every corner. It was all just too much. She tried to think back to the last time she was off her meds for this long.

The Baileys her breath caught at the thought.

“Let it out Sam it’s inevitable” Billy cooed in her ear

“I’m not like you. I will never be like you. I kill to protect. I was protecting us. I was protecting Tara. Don’t you twist it any other way Billy” Sam was seething she didn’t realize that she was fully looking at Billy in a mirror. She didn’t know when she let go and looked at him.

“Sam?”

Tara. Sam heard Tara. Clear as day. She turned toward her bed room door and sure enough her baby sister was standing right in front of her. How long has she been there? What did she hear? Fuck fuck fuck. Sam was starting to spiral. She needed to say something. Anything would be better than the silence that was pulling them apart.

“I can explain” “my class got canceled”

Both girls said over each other.

“You don’t have to explain.”

“What?”

“It’s okay. I’ve heard you before.” Taras staring at the floor.

“What do you mean? Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asked searching her sisters face for any type of answer it might give.

“I don’t want to push you to talk. It just seemed wrong to ask”

Sam slowly walked towards her sister. Half expecting her to step away as she got closer. Tara only stood there.

“Are you scared of me?” Sam barely got the words out. Her voice was so hushed Tara almost didn’t hear her say it.

“Are you kidding me? Of course not. Why would you ever ask that!” Tara snapped out of whatever was holding her back. She was now holding her big sister her protector around the waist and looking up into her eyes.

“I’ve been a lot of things at you But scared has never been one of them. You hear me Sammy. Never.”

Sam couldn’t say anything. She just relaxed into her sister.

“Why is it so bad? Are your meds not working?” Tara asked hesitantly

Sam took a second to respond. Her sister seemed to know exactly what was going on. A million questions danced in Sam’s mind but that was all for a later date.

“There’s a shortage in the area”

“Wait here” Tara took off to her bedroom and came back with a prescription bottle.

“Here. Are these them?” Tara asked handing the bottle to Sam

“But how?” Sam looked back at Tara who was beaming with pride

“Do you remember a few months back you said your doctor sent your prescription to the wrong place and they had to refill it at the new one. Well I went and picked up the meds from the other CVS across town. I thought maybe I could have them for emergencies just like how you have my spare inhaler for emergencies.” Tara was proud of herself. She wanted to be able to protect her big sister just like her big sister protects her.

“You are more than anything i deserve my love” Sam said as she placed a kiss atop Tara’s head.

Sam walked to the kitchen and popped two of her pills.

“So what shall we do with the rest of our free day?”

#sam carpenter #scream #tara carpenter #they mean so much to me. #carpenter sisters

[thepaintedlady00]

The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 11: Write My Name In Your Blood

TW: mentions of blood, panic attacks, mental breakdowns, Pierre is an ass, SMUT holy cow, smut, Jealous/possessive Dream, aftercare, Fluff, memories, its a wild ride yall

“It’s so good to see you, after all these years Ms. Barlow." The voice made my entire body ache, phantom pain bringing forth every memory of every slice and shock that had followed that voice for years. Terror filled me as my body moved back into the table. I wanted to run, my whole being screamed at me to run, but I couldn't move. “It has been far too long, my dear.”

I forced myself to keep breathing. Forced myself to ignore the way my skin crawled just at the sound of his voice. I cleared my throat, the words still coming out weak. "You sound like shit. Half assed immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be?"

"Ah so unruly. But you and I both know why that is." Tears began to fill my eyes. I knew exactly what he'd say. He'd said it so many times before. Giselle's body stumbled forward a bit. "If you let go of the anger, what are you, Ms. Barlow?"

My mind answered the question out of instinct. Nothing. But I bit my cheek, refusing to give him even the smallest amount of satisfaction of saying the word. The pale eyes sparkled and a bloody smile spread on Giselle's lips, but it was his. "Nothing. You are nothing."

"What do you want?" Pierre demanded from beside me, his body moved trying to shield Dream from view.

"Ahh The Marquis," the doctor said with a sigh. "I've been waiting so long to put a face to the name of the man that stole my money and broke our deal."

Pierre shrugged. "I'd say it was not personal but I don't like to lie."

The pale eyes shifted behind him. No. My body moved too slowly to block his view. "You did not tell me I was in the presence of the great Dream of the Endless."

"He has nothing to do with this," I said shakily.

"Does he not?" He chuckled and coughed. "Fear not, dear, so long as he remains out of our affairs I'll keep the glass cage empty. As for the matter at hand, I wanted to speak with you myself, to try and make you see sense, but…" They eyes looked to the bodies on the floor. "You've not changed, still refusing to see reason."

I ground my teeth together. "Go to Hell."

Another wheezing laugh and a gentle click of his tongue. "I'll see you again soon, with my real eyes. In the meantime you may want to call your friend… I fear she's run into a bit of trouble."

Johanna. I resisted the urge to immediately break. Pierre pulled his gun and shot out before I even recognized it, Giselle's head snapped back and she fell back to the ground. The phone on the table shattered and everyone was silent, still waiting to be sure he was gone. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and shakily dialed Johanna's number, holding it tight in my hand as it rang out on speaker. "Pick up." The ringing droned on. "Pick up the fucking phone Johanna!" I yelled, repressing the tears as the ringing trilled in. "God damn it…" Not again. No. No. No.

"Hello?" She answered weakly. "Pen, you there?"

Pierre took the phone from my hands, recognizing the familiar sight of me about to completely shut down. "We're here, witch."

I forced air into my lungs, desperately trying to calm the shaking. Their words blurred in and out of my hearing as my ears rang. "How is she?" Johanna asked.

"Not so good," he answered honestly. "I don't know if she can even hear us."

"Fucking bastard. When you get her back tell her I said I'm okay, it was just some thugs, no one good enough to get me."

Pierre knelt beside me from where I'd dropped onto my knees. When had I done that? He carefully reached out and touched my arm, finger curling around the scar. Pain, screams, blood everything boiled over and my body moved faster than my mind did, grabbing one of the daggers from the box and pressing it tightly to his sternum. 

He went still, holding a hand up to Dream and Hob. Oh god, what would they think of me after this? The tip of the blade broke the skin as I heaved. "Look at me, Penelope." My name was wrong… Nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut. You're nothing. "Look at me, Ma moitié."

Ma moitié… Pierre. This was Pierre, my friend, my Pierre. I opened my eyes, looking up into his eyes as he smiled. "There you go. It's me… your other half."

My lips quivered as I breathed out a sob. He slowly lifted a hand to my face, wiping away my tears. "It's okay." How did they find me? The ugly, mistrusting and dark part of my soul reared its head, but Pierre noticed. Of course he did. "I made you a promise, you remember? I will never hurt you," he said softly. "I will never betray you."

Pierre. My mind finally came back into connection with my body and I eased the knife away from him, dropping it to the ground. His arms were around me in an instant, crushing me to his chest as broke down. "He's not here. He's gone. I have you."

***

“It’s so good to see you, after all these years Ms. Barlow,” an old faintly familiar voice filled the room. Penelope’s stillness twisted into absolute terror and she moved to step back, trying to flee the voice, running into the table. “It has been far too long, my dear.”

This was him. Finally. Dream had been waiting to meet this doctor ever since he saw his face, saw what he'd done to Penelope, his Penelope. His eyes were glued to her ridged back, the bond between them swarmed and flooded with everything she felt. Her urge to run made him burn. Her want to slice the skin from her bones just to be free of the wrong feeling that coated her at the sound of that voice made his anger near uncontainable.

She made a noise, soft and forced. "You sound like shit. Half assed immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be?" It lacked all the venom and fire he was used to hearing. His gut twisted… She sounded scared. Never had he heard this voice, never had she allowed this raw, vulnerable weakness be heard by anyone, not even him.

A wheezing sound echoed in the room, a laugh following that made him burn hotter. "Oh, don't worry about me, dear. I'll remedy my condition as soon as you get here."

"Yeah? When I do find you I'm going to fucking kill you!" It wasn't a scream, nor a yell, but something in between. Something raw and animalistic, forced.

"Temper temper," the old man dared to mock her, to scold her like a child? "You were always so unruly. But you and I both know why that is." A broken sound left her, soft, so soft he doubted anyone but him heard it. "If you let go of the anger, what are you, Ms. Barlow?"

"Nothing." It was her voice, broken and shaking. 

"Nothing. You are nothing."

"Nothing." She thought again. "I am nothing."

"What do you want?" The Frenchman demanded, moving just a little bit further in front of him.

"Ahh The Marquis. I've been waiting so long to put a face to the name of the man that stole my money and broke our deal."

This was perhaps the only time the man's smugness made Dream happy as he answered, "I'd say it was not personal but I don't like to lie."

The pale eyes shifted to Dream, and he held the stare, watching a grotesque smile spread on the dead woman's face. "No." She moved to block him from view, but the damage was done. "You did not tell me I was in the presence of the great Dream of the Endless."

Dream was proud, glad that this man knew who he was and thus knew, even just a fraction of what horrors laid in store for him when Penelope freed him of his oath. The feeling didn't last long though, not when his lady sounded so afraid, "He has nothing to do with this."

"Does he not?" Weak coughing filled the small devices speakers. "Fear not, dear, so long as he remains out of our affairs I'll keep the glass cage empty. As for the matter at hand, I wanted to speak with you myself, to try and make you see sense, but… You've not changed, still refusing to see reason."

"Go to Hell."

"I'll see you again soon, with my real eyes. In the meantime you may want to call your friend… I fear she's run into a bit of trouble." His eyes returned to her, watching as his words struck.

"Johanna."

 The Frenchman shot the corpse, its head snapping back as it returned to the ground. The phone on the table shattered and the room went quiet, waiting. Penelope moved fast, pulling out her phone and dialing the number, clutching with all her might.Her hands were shaking so badly Dream couldn't see the screen clearly. Just this once he focused fully on her through the bond, honing in on every thought and feeling. 

"Pick up." Desperation and fear held her voice, the raw pain of old faces flashing in her eyes, filling her vision. It was enough to make him want to weep, but her thoughts are what truly broke him. "Not her. Please don't take her from me. I can't do this. Icanticanticant."

"PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE JOHANNA!" She screamed her hand pulling at her hair so tightly he could feel it on his own scalp. "Answer. Answer the phone." The ringing echoed in her ears as her thoughts began to drown out every other noise.

"God damn it…" Her breaths were quick and ragged, "Not again. No. No. No. This is your fault. It's always your fault. You did this."

"Hello?" Constsntine spoke, sounding as if she was out of breath, but Penelope didn't move. The phone began to slip out of her loosening hands. His body twitched forward, but the Frenchman was already there. He caught the phone, worried eyes roving over Penelope as she stumbled back. "Pen, you there?"

He spoke softly, his eyes staying on Penelope. "We're here, witch."

Constantine sighed. "What happened?"

"The doctor decided to pay us a visit."

"In person?"

"No, through Giselle and a phone call." The Frenchman said.

Constantine kicked someone over the phone. "How many did she have to kill?"

The man looked at the bodies on the floor. But Dreams' gaze turned back to her as she slid to her knees, her hand clutching the box where her blades rested for dear life. "They'll never stop. They'll just keep coming and coming and coming." Her pain echoed through him. "Seven."

"How is she?"

"Not so good. I don't know if she can even hear us."

"Fucking bastard. When you get her back tell her I said I'm okay, it was just some thugs, no one good enough to get me."

"I will send one of my associates to help you clean up. Be safe, witch."

"You too, Frenchie."

He set her phone back on the table and spoke softly. "Penelope?"

She didn't respond.

The Frenchman knelt down, carefully reaching out and touching her arm. Dream heard the dam holding back her memories break. He heard every one of their voices fill her mind, all the screams of the asylum, the doctors drills and blades, everything. She'd moved almost too fast for him to notice, grabbing one of the daggers from the box and pressing it against the Frenchmans chest. 

As much as Dream disliked the man, he was important to her and he knew she'd never forgive herself if she hurt him. He took a step, moving to stop her. The Frenchman held hand up, stopping him. She dug the tip of the blade deeper as her breaths grew heavier. "Look at me, Penelope."

"Wrong… I'm nothing. Nothing. You're nothing." He wanted to go to her, wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until every last one of these thoughts was silent.

"Look at me, Ma moitié." The man said, voice still soft.

"Ma moitié." The affectionate name stilled the cries and screams. "My Pierre." He felt a pinch of jealousy rise in him, but forced it away. None of that mattered right now. All that he cared about was bringing her back from the darkness that swallowed her mind.

"There you go. It's me… your other half." He lifted a hand to wipe the tears from her cheek. "It's okay." 

"Liar." Her thoughts hissed. "He told them. He led them here. No. No. How did they find me?"

As if he could see the dark thoughts in her eyes the Frenchman smiled. "I made you a promise, you remember? I will never hurt you. I will never betray you."

"Pierre." Everything about her relaxed, the softness returning to her eyes as she looked down at the blood pooling on his shirt. "Oh god."

"It's okay." He assured her.

She was sobbing now as she threw the blade to the side and clutched his shirt. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She chanted, pressing both her hands over the blood, as if it were a mortal wound.

He pulled her forehead to his. "It's okay," he said again. "Ma moitié, it's okay."

"He was here…" She sobbed, every inch of her shaking. "He knows!"

"He's not here. He's gone."

Dream watched her curl into the arms of her friend. He wished it was him she could find such comfort in. Wished he could be the one to console this side of her fears. He'd seen the memories first hand, but The Frenchman… Pierre had been there for all these moments when he had not. I trust him. She'd once told him, and only now did he understand just how much. Penelope loved him, she loved Pierre enough that her loudest, darkest, most consuming thoughts stilled at the sound of his affectionate name for her. It made him ache with jealousy and guilt, but he could feel neither. He just felt her heartbeat, listened to the thoughts and voices and echoes of the past fade away. Pierre had earned this moment. Earned her trust and love, and so, just this once, Dream looked down at them and felt relieved.

"I have you."

***

Pierre only let go once I was able to take full breaths, and even then he was attached to my side, acting as a shield to keep my eyes away from the blood and bodies that covered the floor. Everyone was silent as he picked my blade off the floor, cleaned it and set it back in the box. He looked at me and gently asked, "Do you want to keep them with you?"

I shook my head violently. "No. No."

"I will return them to the apartment in the morning. For now, you and the… Who are you?" He looked over the table at Hob, who looked more on edge than I'd ever seen him.

"Hob," he answered. "I own this place."

Pierre nodded, looking around. "It is very nice! Hob… Take Penelope to your home, it is up the road, yes?"

"Yeah…" Hob glanced at Dream and asked, "How did you know?"

"I was watching the three of you for a while before you came here." I shook my head at his far too honest admittance. 

"You can't just watch people," I scolded him halfheartedly.

"I was not watching people, I was watching you." He corrected me with a kiss to the head. "Hob, take her to your home. The lover and I will await my associates."

I sighed. "Nows hardly the time for-"

He cut me off. "Go get yourself cleaned up. We will join you shortly."

It was rare for Pierre to give out commands, but when he did I knew it was something he considered important, and that he'd likely not change his mind. Looking up at Dream, the first time I'd been able to since I'd picked up my blades, I asked the silent question, are you okay with this? He nodded, turning to Hob and asking, "Is there another exit?"

"Yeah, round the back. I'll get her out of here," Hob stepped around the table and held his hand out to me. "How's that leg?"

I took his hand with a tired smile. "The cut isn't too deep, but I'll still probably need stitches."

As we moved to walk past Dream he stopped us and pressed a long kiss to my head. "We won't be long."

I spared one last glance at the two before Hob and I disappeared behind the kitchen door and silently prayed they wouldn't try to kill each other. The cut on my leg burned the whole hobbled walk back up the road, and I dreaded the thought of having to explain all this to Hob. He was calm, surprisingly so for someone that had not only witnessed an all out blood bath but then saw a woman rise from the dead. Though I supposed to an immortal there wasn't anything he'd consider far fetched at this point. 

He helped me onto the couch, setting my leg up on the coffee table and moving to the kitchen. I stared at my reflection in the turned off TV and sighed. Their blood was everywhere, sticking to me like a second skin, and the longer I looked the more sick I began to feel. Hob returned with pain killers, water and a heavy first aid kit. "Take those, drink some water and breathe for a minute."

I followed his requests and nodded to the kit. "You gonna stitch me up?"

"If that's alright with you?" His dark eyes held that familiar tint of worry in them and I could feel the words rising from his throat. "I don't know what all that was about, but it seemed to be a lot for you."

"When you asked me what the worst ways I'd almost died were…" I paused, breathing in and looking away from his face. "Those people, the man they work for, they… They spent a very long time looking for me, hurting people to get to me."

Hob was gentle when he asked, "Why? I mean you're absolutely lovely don't get me wrong, but that just seems like a lot of fuss for one girl."

"Have you ever been captured?"

With a thoughtful him he considered the question. "Got burned at the stake once."

"Not like that," I clarified. "Taken by people that knew about your immortality, knew and wanted it."

"No," he said. "I haven't."

I wiped away the tears before they could fall. "I don't recommend it. They're not… They're not too keen on letting you go after they pull you apart and convince themselves that you're the key to immortality."

"If you'd rather wait for your friend to handle this I'll just clean the cut a bit… I know we don't really know one another that well." Hob sighed, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, that you had to go through that."

I sniffed and shook my head, ripping the rest of the fabric away from the wound. Meeting his eyes I smiled. "I trust you, Hob Gadling."

He opened the kit and set out everything he needed before putting on a pair of gloves. The sound of them stretching over his hands made me flinch and wrap my arms around myself. Hob squeezed my knee. "If it gets to be too much just tell me and we'll stop, okay?"

My fingers curled into my shirt and I nodded. "I'm… I'm probably not going to be able to keep myself from shaking. I'm sorry I know that makes this harder."

"Don't be sorry, love," he whispered, wiping away a rogue tear. "I've got steady hands."

Hob was amazing. He talked me through every second, made jokes about how his stitches used to be shit and just as he'd said when it got too difficult to keep the memories of harshly sewn wounds at bay he stopped. I didn't even need to say anything, he just knew. He took off a glove and rubbed my arm, using his touch and his stories to keep me grounded. Once he'd finished he covered it and sat beside me on the couch, pulling me into his arms and letting me cry.

It wasn't the same as with Pierre, I'd not lost myself to the memories this time and Hob was considerably more awkward, but I appreciated Hob's gentle nature and understanding. He probably had a billion questions and yet he asked none that were not important to the task. I sighed into him, my fingers finally uncurling. "Thank you."

"Anything for a friend," he replied, setting his cheek to my head.

"So, burned at the stake huh? What's that like?"

With a chuckle he spoke, "Not the worst way to go actually…"

As Hob told his story I closed my eyes and smiled. He did have a very nice voice.

***

Dream watched the Frenchman with a curious gaze as he lit a cigarette and smiled at him, but he made note that this smile was not like the others. This smile was veiled anger and a burning determination that he'd not seen in ages.

"Dream of the Endless," he finally said, blowing a plume of smoke towards him. "When the witch told me who, what, you are I should have assumed you were her man in the glass."

He said nothing, his hands resting comfortably in his pockets, and so the Frenchman continued. "She spoke of you often and fondly, even almost blew everything to return to that hell hole and try to free you. She would do anything for you."

Dream tilted his head a little. "As I would do anything for her."

His smile grew more tense. "Maybe, but you'll have to forgive me for having my doubts. Loyalty is a rare occurrence nowadays as one such as yourself knows."

"Why are we having this conversation?" Dream demanded.

"I need to know you are capable of doing what must be done." He answered plainly. "Penelope is strong, stronger than anyone I've ever met. But when it comes to the doctor," he shook his head. "She freezes. Her anger and her skill becomes useless and he knows this."

Dream looked the Frenchman up and down. "And?"

He sighed. "And when the time comes to put that fucker in the ground you or I or the witch will have to be the ones to do it. Against his goons she can take down anyone, but he speaks and she crumbles. There is only so much her damaged psyche can take before it snaps… As we just saw."

"She's strong, when the time comes she'll do what she feels is right." Dream assured him. "She always does."

"You have been in her life for what? A month? Two?" The Frenchman sneered. "I have been here for ten years."

Before Dream could retaliate, release the swelling of anger that puffed up at his words, the door opened and three men entered. "Got your message boss, is this the one?"

The Frenchman turned and looked the man in the middle up and down before he nodded. "This is him."

The sound of bones breaking echoed, surprising Dream as he watched the man lose his knees, only being held up by the other two men. The Frenchman pulled up a chair and they moved him to it. With a watchful gaze he shed the coat he was wearing and rolled up his sleeves. "They call you Tony, yes?"

"Y-yes."

"Tony, would you care to explain to me why you were seen speaking to this woman, earlier today." He gestured to Giselle and watched the man, Tony's, face carefully.

He stuttered, fear and pain clear on his features. "I was… I… I'm sorry."

"What did she offer you? Money? Sex? Immortality?"

"Money. She offered me a lot of money." 

The Frenchman nodded. "At least you are honest. Sadly, this won't be enough to save you."

"Please! Please boss!"

Without hesitation the Frenchman began punching the man. The sound of his bones breaking under the Frenchmans powerful strikes echoed around them. Dream had seen brutality before, but this was cold and calculated. He hit not out of anger or a loss of control but to inflict a specific pain to a specific area. To send a message. He stopped for a short moment and sighed. "I would have made this quick if it was me you'd tried to betray. But it wasn't, was it?"

Dream couldn't see the man's face, but he didn't need to. The smell of fresh blood hung in the air as he whimpered. "Please… She's just… One girl."

"That one girl is worth more than three hundred of you." The Frenchman sneered. "She is all that matters! And I made her a promise, many years ago, I'll not break that promise because of worthless scum like you!"

The beating went on for a few minutes more before the Frenchman turned back to Dream and gestured toward the bloody sight. "I am willing to do what must be done, even when she would want me to be merciful. Are you willing to break her heart to do what's necessary?"

He scoffed. "I won't need to resort to such."

"You may think you're better than me all you wish, lover, but in the end I think we both know you'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, just as I do." He smiled, taking his gun and shooting the man in the chair before holding a bag out to him. "Go, help Penelope get cleaned up. But think on my words, Dream of the Endless."

Dream took the bag and watched him speak to the other individuals before they began their work. When he left, the cold breeze washing the smell of blood and decay off of him, he felt a pit form in his stomach. If the Frenchman was correct then he would have to break his promise to protect her. He would, he knew he would as did the Frenchman it seemed, but would he be able to bear the brunt of her anger should it come to that? Would he be able to live knowing he'd betrayed her already fragile trust?

As he entered Hob Gadling's home once more a smile spread on his lips and all thoughts faded at the sight of her curled into his friend's arms, no longer crying or shaking. Hob was telling stories, voice soft and low as he rubbed her arms to comfort her. Upon seeing him in the doorway he smiled. "I think she dozed off."

"It has been a rather eventful night."

"I got her leg stitched up," he said. Dreams' eyes turned to the cut now wrapped and healing.

"How did she handle it?" He questioned.

"Better than I thought. Only had to take a few breaks, when the shaking got too bad for me to work." Hob smoothed a hand down her hair. "She's strong."

Dream nodded. "Very."

Hob chuckled. "As much as I enjoy the friendly cuddles she reeks. Think you can wake her, get her cleaned up? I'll get the spare room set up."

He knelt down beside the two and put his hand on her face. "Penelope."

Her eyes shifted beneath the lids and she slowly blinked them open. Fear filled her for a moment at the unfamiliar space, but when she focused on his face it disappeared. "Dream."

"You fell asleep," he whispered. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can rest properly?"

She hummed, squeezing Hob's arm. "Thank you Hob, for everything."

"Don't mention it, beautiful. I'll talk until someone cuts my tongue out."

Dream helped her to her feet, catching her as she unsteadily began to fall. She melted beneath his touch and let him carry her into the bathroom. It would be easier to return to The Dreaming and attend to her, but Penelope would more than likely wish to remain in the Waking World until her and her friends could speak on a new plan. He would have to return, as Lucienne had said, his realm needed him now more than ever especially with the dreams and nightmares returning. Matthew would simply have to be watchful for him when the time came.

Dream filled Hobs shallow tub and helped Penelope undress, and get settled in the warm soapy water, her wrapped leg hanging out to stay dry. He carefully washed the blood from her arms and face, taking note of the way she avoided his eyes. "Are you angry with me?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not!"

"Look at me, my love." He whispered, tilting her head up. When her teary eyes met his head smiled. "I'm proud of you. Taking life is not an easy thing, especially not for one as good and pure as you, but given the circumstances I'm glad you did it."

She frowned a little. "You're not… Disgusted? Disappointed?"

Tilting his head slightly he chuckled. "How could anyone who watches a beautiful goddess take down her foes with such grace and precision be disappointed or disgusted?"

His words brought a tiny grin back to her face. "I'm not a goddess."

"Weaver, I know I know," he mimicked the words she'd once mocked him with. "I love you, every part, even the ones that may not be ones you find beautiful."

"Thank you," she whispered. "For all of it, Morpheus."

He turned to the bag and pulled out two small bottles to wash her hair with. After helping her get out he wrapped her into one of Hobs robes and looked in the bag again. It was small, but full of necessities. Money, passports, first aid tools, personal hygiene products and a loose fitting pair of clothes that did not look like they belonged to her. He held them up, the faint scent of the Frenchman's cigarette smoke lingering in the fabric. Jealous once again curled in him. "Clothes?"

She smiled. "They're Pierres from years ago. I wore them so much after fights he just kinda let me keep them. Is that… Is that okay?"

"I'm not fond of your French companion, but I trust you. That has not and will not change." He assured her, helping her pull the clothes over her body. "Though I have a large collection you're free to steal."

Penelope laughed. "Of course you do, you can just wave your hand and have all new clothes."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and grabbed a brush to brush through her hair. "I wanted to offer to take you home, to The Dreaming, but I have a feeling you wish to remain here."

"As good as going home sounds," she sighed. "I need to keep them safe. Pierre has the taste of blood now, he's angry and that makes him reckless. Johanna will take this personally and start cutting corners trying to dig things up faster. They need me to keep them relaxed, at least until we can all talk."

"I understand." He tapped her ring gently. "I know you do not want me involved, but should the need arise, call for me. Call for me and I will come."

"Even if I won't let you destroy everything and everyone when you get here?" She asked, though her tone told him she was only partially teasing.

"Even then. It matters not why you call, simply that you do. If when I find you it is peace you wish, I shall honor my oath. And if it is nightmares and darkness you ask of me, I shall deliver it."

Dream felt the shiver run through her as she smiled up at him. "You're magnificent, Dream of the Endless."

Pressing his head to hers he laughed. "You are far more so, Penelope the Weaver."

***

Hob led Dream and I to the guest room and told us to make ourselves at home before quickly excusing himself. Dream set me on the bed, quickly getting me settled before he turned. "I know you have to go back… But can you stay for a little?"

He smiled, already shedding his coat and boots. "I won't leave without saying goodbye again, I promise."

"Good," I mumbled as he slid beneath the covers and pulled me into his soft solid chest. I focused on his heart beating beneath me, focused on the steady pressure of his hand stroking down my back. The loud bumps and odd noises or Hobs home barely had an affect on me until the door opened and the floorboards creaked with movement, I jerked up.

Pierre caught my fist and smiled. "Apologies, was it me you wanted to hit?"

I sighed, settling back to Dreams side. "What are you doing?"

He shoved up beside me on the bed, his body curling around mine, pressing his nose to my hair he answered, "I came to rest, of course."

"In my room?" I asked, smoothing a hand over Dreams' now tense chest.

"This bar man only has two rooms."

"There's a couch."

"You would kick me to the couch?" He questioned softly. "Like a stray mutt?"

"That is what you are," I teased, moving a hand to hold his. His knuckles were swollen and poorly wrapped. "Who got the brunt of your anger this time?"

Pierre made a noise. "No one important. A traitor that needed to be taught a lesson."

"Is this traitor alive?"

"Sleep, Ma moitié." No.

"Pierre…"

"Sleep." He repeated more solidly. Dream had curled me even closer, glaring down at Pierre as he settled into bed beside us. He gave Dream a look. "Goodnight, lover."

"Shut up, asshole," I groaned, elbowing him and snuggling deeper into Dream's chest. "Goodnight, Dream."

"Goodnight, my love."

Pierre giggled. "You two are adorable. Tell me Ma moitié, how do my clothes feel against that soft skin of yours?"

I kicked him, nearly sending him off the edge of the bed. Dream smiled down at me and kissed me softly as I drifted off into a peaceful sleep, cocooned by the Dream Lord and my most trusted friend.

The next morning Dream was still beside me, just as he promised he would be, his arms holding me tightly to him. Pierre was also still beside me, speaking in French and taking up half the bed. As I came to I began to recognize his stories as our old sexual escapades. With a loud groan I shoved him clean off the bed. "Get out, you absolute dick!"

He smiled and winked at me. "Good morning my beautiful goddess!"

"Out. Now. Or I'll find a knife and cut you!"

Making his way to the door he wiggled his eyebrows. "Sounds like fun! You know there's nothing I'm not willing to try for you!"

Once the door shut behind him I turned to Dream. "I'm so sorry about him. He's an ass."

He gave me a reassuring smile and tugged me back into bed. "I'm aware, but it's alright. I think I've grown used to his antics."

"Have you?" I asked with a grin.

"He's a simple man," Dream noted. "His humor is juvenile to say the least, and he smokes almost as much as he speaks, but he cares for you."

We lay in silence for a moment, his fingers running through my hair and mine tracing shapes on his chest. "Do you have to go now?"

"Unfortunately, I do." I set my chin on his chest, looking up at him from beneath my lashes. He brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear and sighed. "You make leaving very difficult when you look at me like that, my love."

I giggled, a blush rising to my cheeks. "Sorry, I don't mean to make your kingly duties difficult."

"Will you be alright here?" He asked softly, the worry in his eyes reminding me of last night's disastrous outcome. 

"Yeah, I'll be okay. I'm sure Hob and Pierre won't mind keeping me company today. You need to get your work done," I said, brushing a stray hair off his forehead. 

"I'll return tonight to keep you company," Dream offered, pulling me up closer to him.

"I would like that very much," I agreed, pressing my lips to his.

Beneath me Dream practically vibrated. His whole body moved into the kiss, his hands gripping me tightly. He sighed against my lips. "I'll send Matthew to join you later."

"Stop worrying," I whispered, smoothing my thumb over his furrowed brows. "And give the bird a break. I'll be alright. Besides I've got two strong men to keep the bad guys at bay."

He nudged me, moving to rise from the bed. "I need to say goodbye to Hob before I go."

In the living room Pierre flipped through the channels on the TV, his dirty blond hair slicked back in his usual style and his casual attire sticking out against the finiary of Hobs home. Hob stood in the kitchen doorway and watched him curiously as he drank his tea. When he saw Dream and I he smiled, turning and holding out a tray of muffins. "Hungry?"

I greedily filled my hands with as many as I could carry before joining Pierre on the couch. He stole one of my muffins instantly before returning to his TV surfing with a grumble, "English television is shit."

As I ate I watched Hob and Dream speak quietly to one another before they shared some kind of agreement and Dream turned, coming to kneel in front of me. "I'll be back later. Call if you need me, please?"

"I will," I promised, pressing a long kiss to his lips. "Now go, get your work done."

Dream stood, his eyes sliding over Pierre with a look of something and a flare of jealousy passing quickly through our bond. Part of me wanted to say something to reassure him, but he gave me one last look, one full of trust and adoration, and I knew his jealousy was simply a gut reaction. He trusted me.

The front door closed behind him, but the black clad figure of him didn't walk through the streets. He was home and I envied him immensely. Closing my eyes and leaning against Pierres shoulder I sighed, imagining The Dreaming, my newfound home. I missed Lucienne and Merv and their constant antics. I missed Cain and Abel and Goldie and their bickering and showmanship. I missed the dreams and nightmares that had already begun to settle back into their homes. I missed walking through the palace with Morpheus' hand in mine or sitting on the bridge together watching the sunset. I missed the normalcy that The Dreaming had begun to offer me, something I'd known very few times in my life.

Soon. I promised myself. Soon all this will be over and we can go home together.

"So, what is this change in you?" Pierre asked curiously.

"Change?"

"You feel," he paused, searching for the right word. "Powerful, more so that you did before."

I nodded. "Yeah, it sounds nuts but I kind of discovered I've got some… String magic."

Hob sat up in his chair. "String magic?"

"I see these threads that connect people and, well, the universe." I explained poorly.

"So do we have these strings?" Hob asked.

"Yeah, everyone has one."

Pierre blocked Hob from my view. "Look at mine first!"

"Not bloody fair!"

"Relax, I can look at both of yours." I assured them, gently willing the world of threads up. It was softer here than in The Dreaming.

Pierres appeared first, bright and demanding. Orange with strong veins of red and pink and a thinner strip of green that, surprisingly, wrapped around his head. I told him his colors, my thoughts drifting to one of Luciennes books. Orange burns the brightest, life and love and adventure tangled into one thread. It is no surprise that those with orange dominated threads also burn away the fastest.

As long as I'd known him Pierre was blazing, burning through the world with everything he was, everything he had. As I watched him pridefully boast about his amazing range of colors I smiled, quietly hoping his fire would never dwindle.

"Mine next," Hob said, looking at me like a kid on Christmas. 

Hobs was obvious. Bright yellow with orange and blue, but the blues had hues of green in it. His was firmly tethered to his heart as I looked at it with a smile. "Yours is yellow, with orange and blue."

"What does it mean?" He asked. "The colors?"

"I'm still working it all out," I admitted. "But yellow I think represents warmth and brightness. It shows you're optimistic and lively."

He nodded, standing to deposit his cup in the kitchen. "After all the years lively is a good work to hear."

Pierre jostled me and smirked. "So, what fun would you like to have today?"

"The kind where we sit inside and stay out of trouble?" I offered up, knowing full well he'd never agree to such a boring thing.

He scoffed. "Sit inside? On such a lovely day?"

Hob moved to stand beside the window and nodded. "It is rather nice out."

"Not you too!" I whined. "Listen, we should just relax inside and lay low. After last night, who knows what those assholes have planned."

"Come on," Pierre pleaded. "Let's go out, have a bit of fun! The old bag and his goons will be laying low, you should get out now before they start making noise."

"I wouldn't mind a day in the town," Hob added, scratching his head innocently. "It could be fun."

"You two are going to get me in trouble!" I hissed standing up. "Come on. We'll have to run by the apartment so I can change."

The two quietly cheered and jumped to their feet, gathering their things and following me out the door. A little shopping and maybe some food wouldn't hurt anyone.

***

Dream sat on his throne reading through the current census Lucienne had made for him. So many of his creations were back, yet there were still many that were not. Part of him worried that his absence had caused them to lose faith in him… Had caused such a deep damage that even his return could not sway them to come home. This worry had burrowed deep into his chest over the past few months. It festered and made him feel uneasy every time he left and to compensate he poured even more of himself into his work.

He'd made several rounds through the town, though he was never received with quite as much enthusiasm as Penelope was, another thing that made his chest ache, but not one he would focus on. Dream worked diligently to restore his realm to its former glory, and to gain back the love and trust of his subjects, but he feared he may never be the ruler he once was.

After the sun had set he spoke with Lucienne on what information he needed next, ran new designs past Merv and briefly spoke to Matthew about flying to the Waking World to check on Penelope while he finished up his remaining tasks. He walked the palace, examining everything to be certain there were no cracks or missing pieces, and in his walking he found himself on the pier, looking down into the clearing water. 

During his capture the dreams of the humans grew dark and festered with nightmares, now he wished to see if they'd grown brighter. He knelt before the water, reaching out slowly and letting it gently tighten him into the depths. The nightmares greeted him with bowed heads and kept their distance, his power fully restored and thus his title and authority no longer something any could question. Moving through the water he viewed many dreams, bright and happy full of imagination and laughter. The sight eased the ache in him considerably.

Just as he prepared to return the sound of loud music and familiar laughter echoed from the depths. Penelope? He pressed forward, diving deep into the various pools containing her voice. The first was merely the image of her dancing in an empty room, the black silk dress hugging her form and her hair bouncing with the movements she made. In the far corner the dreamer sat, crudely stroking himself beneath his table. 

Dream moved to the next, something similar but more people filled the space. This dreamer had imagined a very poor look alike of his lady bent before him at his table. He scoffed at the horrible rendition and moved on to the next. Whatever it was she'd gotten up to in his absence it certainly had inspired these pathetic, unimaginative fools. The next was just as crude and poorly realized as the last. A terrible look alike on her knees for the dreamer, resembling nothing of the beauty he knew she was in any position.

It was the last dream that made the jealousy and pent up possessiveness unfurl. It was no mere dream, but a memory of the events that had inspired such. Penelope, his lady, danced happily among the humans, the black silk dress even more beautiful and revealing than the other dreamers had depicted. She was happy, Hob spun her around joking and laughing with her, but that didn't bother him. Hob was a gentleman. It was the other one. That damned Frenchman that got his blood boiling. His hands were all over her, holding onto her hips and moving with her as though they were doing more than dancing. His lips whispered in her ear, and though he could tell it was his usual jokes that Penelope would smack him for it did little to ease the curling ball building in him.

Enough. With a snap of his fingers all dreams surrounding his lady ended, and with a wave of his night filled coat he was in the Waking World, in her room.

On her bed an opened box with a bright red ribbon lay open. The card reeked of him, his smoke, and had some crude message in French. He'd bought her the dress. Dream sat on the bed, holding the ribbon in his hands, and waited.

***

Dream was already sitting on the edge of my bed when I closed the door, twisting a shimmering red ribbon in his hands "God damn you! Don't sneak up on me!"

"Did you have a good evening?" The tone of his voice was low and rigid. His mind and emotions clouded, as if he was purposely withholding them from me.

"I guess?" I answered, slipping my shoes off. "Are you okay?"

He chuckled low and dark, sending a jolt of heat straight down my spine and to my core. "No. I don't suppose I am."

The air in the room thickened with a heavy lustful need as he stood from the bed and trapped me against the door. "Oh… What's… What's wrong?"

His eyes gleamed like silver moons as he looked down the length of my body, drinking in the dress Pierre had gifted me to wear out on our night of fun. "Who do you belong to?"

"Excuse me?" I whispered back, nearly choking from the suddenness of the question.

"Who do you belong to?" He repeated his cold breath fanning over my neck as he moved his lips to my ear.

I bit my lip and clenched my thighs together. It was obvious he wanted me to tell him I was his, so obvious that I really wanted to see what he'd say if I gave him a different answer. "I don't think I belong to anyone."

Dream laughed against my ear, dragging his fingers down my shoulder and sliding the thin strap off it. "Don't make me repeat myself again, Penelope."

Fire burned in my lungs as I set my head against the door to meet his eyes. "Or what?"

"Or I'll have to punish you."

"Well, first, I'd like to know what's got you in your big dark mood."

A smirk. "You."

I watched his lips. "Have I been bad or something?"

"Not bad," he answered carefully, running a hand down the front of my dress. "An inspiration is perhaps more accurate."

"Why would inspiration be a punishable offense?"

"Because when you inspire a pathetic group of mortals to dream of you in your little dress I have to see it." Oh. His dark gaze flicked back up to me. Oh shit. "I found it amusing at first, but then I saw one of their memories of the events that transpired and found it far less amusing. Your body, pressed up against your friends. His lips whispering in your ear. His hands on you."

I swallowed. "Dream…"

His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my head back so he could look straight down at me as he stepped closer, pressing me impossibly further into the door. "Choose your next words wisely, my love."

Burning need coiled in my gut as the raw unfiltered ache of his jealous rage hit me. "Nothing happened. It was just dancing. I would never-"

"You misunderstand. I know nothing happened. I know who you belong to, but it seems your friend needs a reminder and you need to be reminded." Oh god. His thumb ran down the center of my neck. "So, my love, one last time. Who do you belong to?"

"You," I whined as he shoved his knee between my thighs, a pulse of heat rushing through me.

"Again."

"You," I replied louder, his hand gripping my hip and grinding me down against his thigh.

The hand now on my neck applied a little pressure. "Again."

I moaned softly, tears pricking the edges of my eyes as the pleasure began to build at a torturously slow pace. "You, Morpheus. I belong to you."

His eyes took in the sight of me, pinned against the door, hips moving against his thigh, his hand gripping me to control the pace. With a hum he shook his head, lips brushing against mine. "I'm not satisfied."

Pulling away from me completely he ignored my whimpering, took off his coat and set the ribbon on my dresser before sitting in my chair. I stood perfectly still, waiting for his coming instructions. He leaned back and motioned me forward with two fingers. I approached him slowly, standing in between his wide spread legs. "Kneel."

My breath trembled as I followed the command, kneeling between his thighs, hands squeezing them softly. He caught my chin between his finger and thumb, pulling on my bottom lip slightly as he said, "I think it's time we put this gorgeous mouth to better use, don't you?"

I nodded eagerly, listening to the sound of him freeing himself from the confines of his pants. "No more rebellion?" 

The words went straight to my cunt as I gave him a wicked smirk. "Perhaps later." 

With a nod, he released my face. "We shall see."

I didn't wait for instructions as I took him in my hand, pumping a few times before I dragged my tongue up the length of his hard cock and swirled it around the leaking tip. Our eyes stayed locked, his expression remained cold and unchanging. I looked away only to take him into my mouth, pressing my tongue flat against him, occasionally running the tip along the underside of his cock. His hands stayed relaxed on the arms of the chair as he kept up the unaffected act. We'll see about that. 

Hollowing out my cheeks I took him deep into my throat, not stopping until I hit the base of his pants. I held myself there, swallowing around him and humming at the sound of his fingers digging into cushions, at last earning a moan from the king of dreams. "Good girl."

I continued my movements, one hand digging into his thigh while I used the other to feel up his tightened abdomen. Through my lashes I looked up at him, the sight alone would have been enough for me. His head was thrown back, the muscles and veins in his neck visible in the pale moonlight. God Morpheus, I moaned in my head, watching his Adam's apple bob. I'd never get tired of looking at him like this.

When his hand finally fisted in my hair and held me still I loosened my jaw as much as I could as he began steadily fucking up into my mouth. Saliva pooled everywhere as I choked on him, but I didn't care, couldn't care. "That's it," he breathed. Morpheus, I thought wantonly. "Just take it." Morpheus. "You're doing so good for me." Morpheus. His fist tightened in my hair, holding me down against his pulsing cock as he came down my throat. "Fuck."

He released his grip on my hair and I pulled myself off him, licking up anything left over as he looked down at me and caught his breath. "Are you satisfied now, Lord Morpheus?"

He bent over and held his lips inches from my own before whispering, "Not in the slightest."

Before I could speak again he stood, stepping over me and moving across the room. He grabbed the floor length mirror in the far corner and set it up facing the chair with a quiet him as he retook his seat. Through the mirror I watched as his long lithe fingers stroked down his cock, still glistening with my saliva. His eyes, mere pools of silver in the darkness, met mine and he stilled. "Come."

I scoffed, that rebellious spark filling the air. "I'm not a pet, Dream."

"You would look fetching in a collar though," he mused, eyes trailing over me. "Come sit in my lap."

"If I don't?" I questioned, though I'd already stood up to comply with his command.

"Then I'll have to bend you over my knee." A shiver ran through me as I moved closer to him. "Panties off."

I smiled, slowly lifting my dress up and sliding the lacy black panties off of me. "Anything else you want off, my Lord?"

"No." I lifted a leg, moving to straddle him but he stopped me. "Face the mirror."

As I compiled my reflection greeted me, the black silk hugged every curve of my body and the high slit showed off a good amount of my thigh. Dreams hands ran down my hips, gathering my dress a little before guiding me back to sit. One hand held my hip while the other lined his cock up with my already soaking hole. He slid me down on top of him slowly, lifting the dress so the sight of him disappearing inside me was clear in the mirror as he gazed hungrily over my shoulder.

I was already gasping and panting, my hand covering my mouth muffling the loud moan tore through my throat when he'd finally pulled me completely against him, moving both my legs to rest openly over his thighs. Behind me Dream pulled my hands together behind my back with a growl. He pulled the red ribbon off the nightstand and wrapped it tightly around my wrists. Before securing the ties he kissed my shoulder, the gentle tenderness returning for only a moment to ask, "Is this alright?"

Through the mirror our eyes met and I smiled. "I trust you."

The ribbon pulled taut against my skin and he kissed my spine. "And that is something I shall never betray, my love."

"I know," I whispered watching as the glowing silver of his eyes drifted down to where we were joined, the dark possessiveness retaking him as he pulled on the ribbon, testingly. "Now what?"

"Now, you sit still."

My eyes went wide. "Wait, sit still?"

Dream smiled. "Yes, I don't want you to move an inch."

"Well thats, hardly fu- fuck!" I hissed as his fingers lightly grazed my clit. "Oh."

"Oh," he mocked quietly. "Oh indeed."

"This isn't fair," I whined as his fingers began their slow movements again. I could feel myself beginning to squeeze around his cock, but I couldn't move. His free hand had my hip in an iron grip, one I just knew would leave bruises. 

He chuckled, biting my shoulder and forcing another moan from me. "Punishment is hardly ever fair. And I am a strict king."

Dream continued his slow pavement for ten minutes then slowly began speeding up. But as was the way of things with Dream he refused to let me come. He'd bring me to the edge, watching me intently through the mirror and then just as the sweet release was within reach he'd stop all movement. After a half hour of this every inch of me was shaking, my legs trembled, squeezing his thighs desperately. "Morpheus," I whined for the hundredth time, my voice hoarse and desperate, chest heaving as I leaned my head back into his shoulder. "Please."

He chuckled, moving his hand from my hip to wrap loosely around my neck and pressing an open mouthed kiss behind my ear. "What is it you want, my love?"

His fingers stilled once again and I groaned. "You know exactly what I want!"

"Perhaps, but I still want to hear you say it."

"Oh? You want me… Ah, god damn you," I moaned, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes as his fingers built back up their movements. "You want me to beg?"

Morpheus hummed, the vibration of his chest sending chills up my body. "I'm open to begging."

For a moment I settled on not giving him the satisfaction, but that moment was short. My chest heaved as the pleasure of his fingers working my clit and his cock stuffed inside my aching cunt brought the coil in my gut tight once again before he stopped. With a broken huff I slumped forward, my head looking down at my trembling thighs. "Please, Morpheus. Please let me come."

His hand moved to my hair, fisting in it and pulling my head back up. "Look at me when you beg, my lady."

Our eyes locked and his glistened with absolutely unhinged lust. "Please," I gasped, my fingers twisting into his shirt from behind. "Please let me come. I'll do anything."

With a smile his eyes drifted down to where we were joined together, watching his fingers and smiling at the mess I'd made in his lap. "You have been quite good."

"I have," I agreed desperately.

"Will you continue to behave?" The dark timber of his voice nearly brought me to the climax I so desperately wanted. 

"Yes," I gasped. "I'll behave."

"Very well, I'll let you come…" His lips pressed to the shell of my ear. "Next time."

Everything stopped and a disappointed sob tore from my mouth. "Morpheus!"

He lifted me off of him and set me on the bed, my face pressing into the plush blanket as I whined. The sound of the mirror moving back into place and him leisurely undressing off to the side, just out of my sight, was torturous. I pulled on the ribbon, but just like all the times before it held firm.

His weight dipped on the mattress and without any warning he pushed himself into me, inch by inch. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as my aching cunt burned at the slow pace. God he was really going to drag this out, wasn't he? I pushed my hips back against him as his hand wound around the ribbon and pulled, lifting me off the bed and into his bare chest. One arm came around me, pulling my lip from my teeth while the other pulled my dress up and gripped my hip. "None of that. I want every noise."

"But…" I tried, my mind drifting to the poor men in the living room.

He pulled the ribbon harder. "Let them hear you. Perhaps this will finally be enough for your friend to realize exactly who you belong to."

"Morpheus," I whined as all the denied pleasure began to build inside me. The coil tightened and tightened until it was unbearable.

"Come," he ordered and my body immediately followed the command.

White filled my vision as a desperate and wanton moan filled the room along with his name. He pulled out, unwinding the ribbon from my hands to move me onto my back. 

My nails dug into his arms as he leaned over me, teeth closing around my nipple through my dress and tugging lightly. I couldn't have contained the cry of pleasure that filled the room even if I wanted to. His cock slid back into me with no resistance and he pulled my legs over his shoulders, nearly bending me in half as he pounded into me. 

Orgasm after orgasm, position after position, each more intense than the last until I was a moaning, sweaty, crying mess beneath him. His name was all I knew.

"Morpheus," I begged. For more or for less I didn't know, but he didn't stop.

"Just one more," he whispered, kissing the tears from my cheeks. "One more my beautiful Weaver."

"Come with me," I whined, fingers pulling at his black hair. "Please."

His hot breath fanned across my face as he kissed and sucked at my flesh as his hips began to falter in the harsh pace he'd set. Morpheus pressed his lips to mine just as my orgasm washed over me and his hips stilled in turn as he filled me with his hot come. We swallowed one another's moans for a moment before he set his forehead to mine. "Are you alright?"

I laughed weakly. "Absolutely!"

He kissed me softly, rolling off me and looking me up and down carefully. "I wasn't too rough was I?"

"Morpheus," I said gently, guiding his face back up to mine. "It was amazing. All of it."

With a sigh he pressed his head to my chest, running his fingers on the silk. "Forgive me. I should not have sprung this on you."

I scratched his head softly, running his smooth hair through my fingers. "I enjoyed it. It's quite a sight to see you let go of that ironclad grip you have on your urges."

He chuckled. "I like the dress."

"I figured you did since you didn't try to rip it off of me."

"I was tempted," he admitted, resting his chin on my chest to look up at me. "But decided against it."

I stroked his cheek. "We'll, thank you might Dream Lord for sparing my new dress."

He moved away from me, disappearing into my bathroom. Before I could ask I heard the water turn on and he returned, gently removing the dress from my body, kissing every bruise left by his hands. Then he lifted me into his arms and settled the two of us into my tub where he massaged my arms and shoulders and whispered praise in my ears and kissed me gently.

I closed my eyes, sinking into him. "I love you."

Dream nuzzled his face into my hair. "I love you too. I missed you today."

"As did I," I hummed. "Hob and Pierre are absolutely unhinged together as it turns out."

He laughed. "Tell me about your day."

***

Hob Gadling and Pierre sat across from one another in Penelope and Johanna's living room, each quietly sipping the tea Hob had made. At first the moans and desperate cries of pleasure had been quieter, easier to tall over, but now they filled the apartment.

Pierre smiled. "I still think she was louder for me."

Hob sighed. "There's no way. Sorry mate, but there's just no way she was louder than this for you."

"You think I am a poor lover?"

"I didn't say that." He replied. "But she's in there with basically a god right now. And there's just no way you're better than a god."

He scoffed. "I disagree."

"Morpheus!"

The two grew silent again. "Should we leave?"

Pierre shrugged. "Are you hungry bar man?"

"I could eat," Hob replied, grabbing his coat and following the Frenchman out the door. "It's Hob, by the way, not bar man."

"Hob. It's an odd name, no?"

***

I woke the next morning sore, but for the first time in a while it was in a way that made me smile. I could feel Morpheus curled into my back, his face buried in my hair as he lay beside me. I stretched my heavy limbs, the slight movement bringing Dream fully awake in an instant. His arms tightened around me and he breathed in deeply. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I replied, twisting to kiss him. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore," I said honestly. "But in the best way."

He chuckled, smoothing his hands over my body, lightly massaging me. "What are your plans for the day?"

I shrugged. "Don't know, but don't you need to get back to The Dreaming?"

"I was able to complete my tasks yesterday before getting… Distracted," he said. "So, you have me for the day."

I gasped and turned in his arms, rolling over on top of him. "The great King of Dreams is all mine? Oh think of the evil I can accomplish!"

Dream ran his fingers through my hair. "Evil isn't exactly your style."

"What is then?"

"Rescuing stray animals? Feeding birds?" He offered up. "Inspiring the fantasies of mortal men?"

I pinched his arm. "I personally had nothing to do with the last one!"

His fingers running up my spine sent goosebumps along my flesh. "Perhaps not, but you are quite an inspiration, not just to mortals."

"Do I inspire you, Dream of the Endless?" I giggled, nudging his nose with mine.

"More than anything," he offered up freely, eyes bright and swimming with love. The adoration he felt for me was almost enough to make my heart stop. I pressed my lips to his, savoring the slow unhurried way they moved together.

A knock at the door made me freeze. Oh fuck. My head fell into his shoulder as I remembered that Hob and Pierre had been in the apartment for last nights… Loud performance. Dreams pride was unbearable as he chuckled. "Yes?"

Hob cleared his throat on the other side of the door. "The French guy and I got breakfast ready, if you two are hungry."

"By the sounds of last night I know she's hungry," Pierre teased loudly. 

"God!" I groaned. "This is your fault."

Dream sat up, bringing me with him. "I accept full responsibility."

"Smug bastard."

I uncurled from him and got dressed, the marks far too high up my neck to even try and hide. Dream had returned to his normal attire and sat on the bed watching me as I fixed my hair. He came up behind me, moving my hands to tie the red ribbon into my locks. "There, perfect."

I scoffed at him. "The nerve of you!"

"Come, you need to eat before our day of fun can begin."

With his hand in mine we left the safety of my bedroom and sitting on the couch the two smirking men drank their drinks quietly. Pierre had a hundred jokes ready, I just knew it, while Hob looked more at Dream than he did me. I nodded toward the chair. "Take a seat, I'll grab my food."

Pierre was up in an instant, following me to the kitchen with a grin. I groaned and moved fast, trying to focus on buttering my biscuit and dishing up my eggs while he leaned against the doorframe. "Last night was quite the show."

"Pierre…" I warned. "I'll stab you."

He shrugged, tilting my head up to examine the marks in my neck. "He's far more rough than I'd imagined!"

I slapped his hands away. "Knock it off!"

"Tell me then, who's better? Him or me?"

I pulled my lips together tightly. "Sweetie…"

He gasped, an offended hand flying to his chest. "Him? No!"

"Sorry Frenchie, with him there's just…" I smiled. "There's real feeling. It's not about letting off steam or trying not to focus on something, it's just… Natural."

Pierre smiled, his real one, the one I knew was genuine. "I'm happy for you, Ma moitié. You deserve nothing but the best in this life."

I held his hand. "You deserve that too."

"Not really." He shrugged, kissing my hand quickly. "All the good I am came from you. It's something I'll never be able to repay, and something I will spend every minute of my life trying to."

"You already have," I whispered.

He smiled, pulling me in close to kiss my head. "Not even close, Ma moitié."

"Stubborn ass."

"Always."

The front door opened and shut quickly, bags dropped to the floor and the person that had come in moved quickly to the kitchen doorway. Johanna sighed, relieved and instantly pulled me into her arms. "God I was worried about you!"

I hugged her tighter. "So was I. Sorry about the other night, I wasn't…"

"Shut up," she insisted. "What matters is you're back to normal, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Grab your food, we gotta rework our plan before any of us can go."

Just like Johanna, I thought while following her and Pierre out into the living room. Dream and Hob now sat together, Hob finishing up some hushed words before he gave Dream a pat on the shoulder. I sat on the floor between Dreams' knees. "Everything okay?"

"Yes," he replied silently. "It would seem you've made quite the impression on Hob Gadling."

"Oh?" I twisted a little, looking up at him as I took a bite of my food 

"He was just telling me about how good you are, about how I needed to take whatever this is seriously and not hurt you."

I choked on my food a little and smiled. "I mean I would hope you're taking this seriously, Dream. You're in my head after all."

His hands rubbed my shoulders. "I can say the same of you, my love."

Johanna pulled out the papers she'd gathered on her trip and we sat for a while, reviewing the information. Out of curiosity I pulled the threads up, examining her odd thread with curious eyes. Her thread was gray with black and orange veins, but what made it odd was the yellow that was frayed and torn from the main thread, half even and half unwoven. The gray thread wrapped tightly around her throat while the broken yellow led to her heart.

If she'd been a stranger I would have had no clue what I was looking at, but I knew Johanna. I knew that deep down she was a lot like Hob, bright and lively and warm. The broken yellow thread was hers once, as was its placement in her heart. But, the years of this job, this life, had worn her down… Astra's loss had caused the thread to snap and for her whole life to be rewoven and changed. The gray wasn't like Destinys. His felt balanced and clear, while her felt like the beginnings of a storm, unsteady and full of things left unresolved.

Looking at it made me sad, but the simple fact that the yellow remained at all gave me hope that she'd one day get to reunite with that side of her. Pierre suddenly spoke, "So the bastard is likely operating here in London."

"Probably never left," I added, letting the world refill my vision.

"We need to dig up as much as we can," Johanna said, her eyes darting wildly between the papers.

I got her attention. "We need to relax."

Pierre scoffed. "After the other night-"

"The other night changes nothing." I insisted. "He knows I'm here, so I'll disappear for a bit, send them looking elsewhere while you two continue with the original plan."

"Ahh the old goose chase!" Pierre smiled. "I like it."

Johanna crossed her arms. "Where will you go? They've got eyes everywhere."

I looked up at Dream and smiled. "Dream of the Endless, would you allow me to hide away in your great realm?"

He smiled just a little. "Of course, my realm is always open to you."

"Problem solved."

Johanna nodded. "Alright, it's good enough for me."

I clasped my hands together. "Great! I'll go pack!"

Dream followed me shortly after and stood in the door, watching me pack my things. "They've all gone."

"Even Hob?"

"Yes, he had to go make sure the inn was ready to open."

"I should probably apologize for that, huh?"

"I'm sure he doesn't mind," Dream assured me.

I looked him up and down and asked, "Are you okay?"

He sighed, moving closer. "There is something I wish to try."

"What is it?"

Lifting my silver bound wrist he kissed it gently. "I wish to show you some of my past."

I looked at him gently. "You don't have to. If this is about what Hob said…"

"It is," he said. "But more than that, it's about what everyone's said since our reunion. Desire would use what I haven't shared to try and manipulate you. Hob fears my secrecy will cause you pain. Lucienne advises openness and honesty. Even Destiny has said I would need to open myself to you."

"I understand that, and they aren't wrong, but…" I pulled him closer. "You still get to choose when that is. I don't want you to feel pressured into sharing things you're not comfortable with."

Dream stroked my cheek. "I have seen the worst of your memories, without your permission, I believe this much is owed."

"If you're sure," I said once again. "What do you need me to do?"

He placed his hand in mine. "Put my hand to this silver thread. The one you used to see Destiny's hidden memories."

"It's cold," I warned as I pulled up the threads, moving his hand to it and directing him to hold it. The blizzard overtook us both and this time when the frozen lake appeared, Dream was beside me, holding onto the thread.

He looked around for a moment, moving along the rigid path forward, until the first statue came into view. "Nada," he said softly.

"Who was she?" I asked, looking up at the beautiful ice sculpture of the woman.

"My first love…" he sighed. "And someone that hurt me deeply, that I in turn hurt."

I lifted his hand, pressing it into the cold of the statue. All around us the memories of them played out in hazy visions. Beside me Dream was stiff. I could feel the love they shared, feel how badly he wanted her to remain by his side. Then the pain came, hurt and anger and confusion. The vision faded and the feelings with it. "What happened between you two?"

"It is ancient law that mortals and Endless cannot be together or disaster will follow. Nadas people were destroyed because of our love, and the pain this caused her…" He paused. "She took her own life, and so in death I offered her eternity at my side as my queen." I squeezed his arm tighter, the knowledge that another could have taken my place was something I wasn't entirely ready for, or fond of. "She refused and in my young and blind rage I condemned her to Hell, where she remains even now."

"You cast her to Hell?"

He sighed. "Yes. I'll admit, it was not something I saw fault in before, but then I found you." He turned to me. "Nada never would have been my queen, nor my equal. Even if she had accepted, you would have merely existed and been more to me and The Dreaming than she."

I kissed his cold fingers. "Can you free her?"

"Much like your mother, my forgiveness is what is required. When we were in Hell I was not ready to let go of my anger, bit now…" He smiled down at me. "Now I believe I may be."

We walked forward again, the next statue standing tall above us, one I recognized instantly. "Olethros."

Dream nodded, setting his hand against the ice. "My brother."

The vision of their family, all hazy figures and faces formed. Olethros was the only clear one among them. He announced his departure, met with anger and confusion and questions. "When was this?"

"1695." Dream replied. "Though he did not vanish entirely until shortly after saving you, this was when Destruction left our family and his realm along with his duties. He remained in the Waking World for a while, but never in one place for long enough that our family could find him."

"Why is he here?"

"I said much that day that I wish I could take back. His role was never easy, none are. Had I been more understanding… More open to aid him then perhaps…"

"He might have stayed?" I finished. "I don't know. I only knew him as Olethros, and we certainly didn't have eons together. But, he was his own man. No one could have stopped him if it's what he'd chosen, not even you, Dream." 

The next statue was of a woman and child, both appearing in light robes. Wordlessly he pressed his hand to the ice. All around us laughter and love and joy filled the air. Family. They'd been a family. As I watched the past him embrace his wife and their child I couldn't help but feel the sting of it. He loved them both so much. "Calliope, my ex wife and Orpheus… my son."

"What happened?"

"My son died," he answered solemnly, tears in his eyes. "Calliope blamed me. Her final words to me were a promise to never speak to me again."

The vision faded with the echoes of the pain. "I'm sorry."

Dream closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I was not the best husband to her, nor the best father. But, I loved it… Having a family of my own."

I wiped his tears. "I know I can't replace that… Can't give you the exact same as they did, but I can be your family."

"You are my family," he corrected. "You, The Dreaming, all of it is our family."

I looked up at him as he looked down the path. "You've lived a long life. Let this be enough for now?"

"How do we return?"

"Break the thread." I instructed, forgetting to warn him of the coming plunge into the lake.

We were huddled close together when the warm world greeted us, Dreams arms held me tightly to him, shielding me from any unknown danger. Shivering I kissed his chest. "Thank you."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm just a little cold."

His coat wrapped around me in an instant. "When you're warm, we can begin our day."

"Do you have things planned?"

"No," he admitted. "I want you to do whatever it is you want to."

I smiled up at him. "I'm proud of you… Of the ways you've changed."

He shook his head gently. "I've not changed. I am as I've always been, just… More inspired."

"As you say, Mr. Endless, Sir." I teased. "Now, I was promised a day out so, let's go."

Being in the Waking World with Dream was always awkward. He never knew exactly where to look or what was weird and what was normal, but to his credit he tried his best. Even as I forced him to try every food and look at every street vendor he never complained or made any faces. Honestly he was fascinated, studying everything with this look of wonder. It was adorable.

As the sun was beginning to set we sat side by side on a park bench. I watched a group of kids play while Dream picked at the sweet treat I'd shoved in his hand. I loved kids, their bright laughter and chubby cheeks. After seeing his memories of being a father a newfound want had filled my chest. Seeing him have all that with someone else… It hurt, I envied it. But, maybe we could have that one day too?

"Dream," I started softly. "Do you… Would… Would you ever want to have a child again?"

He turned to me, looking up at the children playing and he smiled a little. "If you'd have asked me not long ago I would have said no. But, that was,when I thought you were dead."

"So you would?"

"Would you?" He asked cautiously. "I never thought to ask. I honestly didn't think it would be possible after seeing all the…"

Oh. He thought… I shook my head, twisting my fingers together. "Oh, no. They never… I… I guess they wanted to leave that bit untouched… In case…" The words died in my throat, but Dream understood.

He linked our hands. "I enjoyed being a father, even if I wasn't the best at it the first time. I would be thrilled to have a second chance with you."

"I've never been a mom," I said with a laugh. "But, I'd be happy to give it a try with you one day."

Just as he pressed his lips to mine thunder echoed in the sky and rain began to fall. I smiled, watching everyone flee the park as the sunlight grew dim. Dream looked a little disgruntled at the change. "We should depart."

I stood quickly. "And miss the rain?"

He smiled. "I forgot I was with you for a moment. I should make you your own rain cloud at this point."

"Can you?!"

Dream shook his head, chuckling softly. "What shall we do in this downpour my lady?"

Holding a hand out to him I smiled wide. "Do Dream Lords dance?"

"No, they don't."

"Would you, if I said please?"

With a sigh he stood, taking my hand in his. "I can deny you nothing."

I pulled him in close and the two of us danced in the rain, slow and soft. After a while it felt like we'd become part of the storm itself and I cherished the feeling. "Thank you, Dream Lord, for indulging me."

"Perhaps you will now indulge me in an adventure?"

With a grin I nodded. "I love adventures!"

He pulled the sand pouch from his coat and gave me a look. "Don't say it."

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to tease him anyway. Instead I let him blow the sand and take us wherever it was he had in mind. As it cleared the old tavern came into view. I looked back at him with curious eyes. "Are we taking a walk down memory lane?"

"Something like that," he replied, leading me inside. "The last time we were here, do you remember it?"

Nodding, I looked around a bit. "Of course."

"Do you remember some… Thoughts you had?"

Ohhh… I thought, turning to him. "Yes."

Dream smiled at that. "Would you care to explore them some more?"

"Absolutely."

"Good," he said lowly as he waved his hand. "I've come up with some ideas myself."

The tavern filled with people, lighting up and taking on the qualities it held in the past as it bent to Dreams whim. Soft fabric rusted against my skin and when I looked down I was wearing a gown in place of my regular clothes. It was elegant and revealing, two strips of fabric around my neck connected it to the long puffy sleeves that cuffed at my wrists. The deep v of the front accentuated my breasts beautifully and the knee high slits in the side made movement easy. It was nearly see through with a multitude of golden stars of various sizes and placements.

"You've certainly given me a fine dress, Dream Lord!" I said, twirling a little, noting the way his dark eyes looked down my body. "Though I'm not sure how period accurate it is."

"Yes, it's a shame there will be little left of it when I'm finished with you."

Heat rolled through me as I looked back at him, adorned in his 1389 look with his shoulder length hair and billowing sleeves. "Is that a promise?"

His brow arched. "Does it need to be? Is that what you wish, my lady? For me to swear to you that I'll not stop until every inch of you is bare before me?"

I hummed, swallowing thickly. "It's a start."

"A start," he chuckled, backing me up against the table.

"Well yes, I should hope with such a magnificent set you had more than one idea in mind." I smiled up at him. "Or was this supposed to be a quick affair?"

Dream shook his head, a smile spread on his lips. "Quick is not something I would use to describe what I've planned."

My eyebrow quirked. "What is it you have planned?"

"For starters," he said, hands settling on my thighs. "A kiss."

"Just a kiss?" I inquired. "Rather tame for you, my lord."

He merely smiled and lowered his lips to mine, starting with a slow kiss, one that had me clinging to his arms for support as he stole the very breath from my lungs. When he pulled back to let me regain my lost breath he moved his lips to my jaw, trailing kisses lower and lower until he was biting and sucking the hollow of my throat.

My hands ran through his hair, pulling gently at the roots as I gasped and wiggled beneath him. "Dream," I said in a heated moan. "Please don't make me beg again."

With a dark chuckle he returned his lips to mine, kissing softly before pulling back to cradle my head in his hands. "I won't make you beg, my love. Not yet."

"God, your ego is astronomical," I murmured, pulling his lips back to mine.

This kiss was deep, our teeth clashed together as our tongues twined and his hands pulled at the front of my dress. The ripping sound was music to my ears and sent a wave of anticipation through me. When I pulled away his hair was shorter beneath my fingers, the flowy sleeved gone and replaced with his simple 1489 appearance.

"Hi," I breathed out.

"Hello," he replied, returning his hands to tearing the front of my dress open. The instant the chilled air hit my breasts I gasped and instinctually moved my hands to cover them. Dream caught them, pinning them to the table with a smirk. "I think not, love."

His mouth latched onto my nipple, his tongue swirling over it and teeth dragging down and tugging on it until it was peaked. He turned his attention to the other, paying no mind to the way my chest heaved against him or how my legs had spread wide and curled around his hips, desperately trying to pull him closer. "God, Dream just move forward!"

"Hmm," he thought, nipping and sucking hickeys into my chest. "Forward? Like this?"

His pelvis met mine, the firm outline of his erection rolling against my already aching core. A broken moan left my lips as my head fell back. "Yes," I gasped. "Just like that."

Dream ground himself against me one last time before he disappeared, my body arching out trying to chase his cold hands. I huffed and glared at him as he took a seat at the table across from us. His long hair cascading down his shoulders and the fine black clothes of his 1689 attire sitting comfortably against his pale skin. "You're an ass."

With a leisurely pace he pulled his cock free of his pants and stroked a hand up and down it. "Perhaps I'll just make you watch then."

"Is there a particular reason you've skipped a year?" I asked, eyes watching his hand stroke himself.

"Yes." He was too smug about this. "That year was your favorite."

"So you intend to make me work for it?"

"Work? No." He sucked in a deep breath, the movement of his hand beginning to get to him. "I intend to draw this out."

I stood, running my hands up his arms and stroking his face. "You think it'd end so quickly?"

"I know it would," his eyes flashed to mine. "You'd want your fill of me and I'd not deny you."

With a thoughtful hum I settled in his lap, leaving enough space for his hand to move between us. I placed my hand over his and kissed his jaw. "I could help, if that's the Dream Lord's wish?"

A low groan echoed around us as his hand fell away, leaving mine to pleasure him. "Yes, please."

My free hand wrapped into his long hair and pulled his head up to meet mine. With a wide, smug grin I whispered, "Told you I was gonna pull your dumb long hair."

"It's a good thing you're distracting me or I might take offense to that, my lady."

I kissed him, shushing him softly. "Just enjoy the moment, Morpheus."

Every sound he made I committed to memory, every breathless moan and soft words. Moments like these were rare, and so I loved the chance to savor every second. The usually stoic, hardened plane of his face was now relaxed, light and beautiful with thinly restrained ecstasy. I moved my lips closer to his, "You look good like this. Maybe I should do this all the time, help you get rid of those tense lines on your face."

He moaned, hands tearing the slits of my dress until they exposed my thighs completely now. "Surely your hand would tire if we did this all the time?"

"I have another," I offered. "I also have quite the mouth," he moaned, hips lifting and pushing into my hand. "Or we can always do things the easy way and you can just fuck me."

"An eternity of your touch, that does sound tempting." His eyes were blown wide as he looked up at me. Lust, need and an undeniable love hummed between us. "Though I don't know how happy you'd be stuck with me every moment of forever."

I smiled softly. "I'm yours, Morpheus. Being stuck with you every moment of forever is all I want."

As I quickened my pace, determined to bring him the pleasure he was chasing, he stopped me with a hand on my wrist and a labored groan. "If you continue that I'll not be able to last."

"Don't you want to come?" I asked.

"I do," his dark gaze flicked up to my face. "I want to come inside you." 

A shiver rolled down my spine and I pressed my chest up to his, the cold buttons stinging my skin. "Oh? Do you enjoy that?"

"Immensely," he groaned, pulling my face down to his mouth. He was unforgiving, the way his mouth demanded everything from me while also giving me more. His hands squeezed my thighs tightly, pulling me fully into his lap, smirking at the soft moan that rose from my throat as our hips aligned just right.

When I pulled away to catch my breath the scenery had changed. We were no longer in the crowded part of the tavern, but in the back room in front of the fireplace. Dream was dressed head to toe in the soft black fabric of the 1789 self he'd shown me. His collar high, blocking his throat, the ruby glistening in the light. His hair was puffy, pulled back into a small ponytail by a fine black bow. He smiled at me, taking note of my repressed laugh. "Problem?"

"This look is just a lot," I said, doing my best not to laugh.

He hummed, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Then perhaps I simply need to make you see the appeal of it."

His hands settled on my hips, lifting me for a quick moment before setting me down over his thigh. My fingers curled in the fine fabric of his sleeves as he urged me to move. "Riding your thigh is supposed to do this?"

"No," he answered, lifting my chin with his finger. "But you'll do it anyway."

"Is that an order?" I purred.

"If it needs to be."

"It does."

Dream sat up straighter, moving me harshly against his thigh. He grabbed my throat in a light grip and smiled. "Ride my thigh, Penelope."

I sighed, grabbing hold of his jacket lapels and nodded. "Yes, my lord."

He relaxed as I moved against him, dragging my wet, aching pussy against the softness of his pants. I couldn't help but be grateful that this was all an illusion, partly because of the mess I was no doubt making of Dream's fine clothes, but also because of the noises I was making. Each drag forward and back rubbed my swollen clit perfectly against the solid muscle. Each movement brought me closer and closer to losing myself to the pleasure building inside me. But, as Dream was keen on reminding me, I wasn't the one in charge.

His hand on my throat squeezed a little. "Slow down."

"What?" I whined.

"Slow. Down." He repeated, authority and power filling the room.

With a gasp I followed his order, disappointment at the now ebbing release that had been building up. As I looked down at him, one arm draped lazily over the arm of his chair, his body sitting perfectly straight and his eyes watching the wetness spread on his pants, I was beginning to like this look. He looked the part of king, even more so he looked intimidating, bossy even. "I think I'm beginning to see the appeal of this look."

His eyes dragged up my form, pausing to watch my breasts bounce with my movements before meeting mine. "Oh?"

"It captures your kingly intimidation."

A smile spread on his lips. "If you can make yourself come in the next fifteen seconds I'll skip straight to the look you really want."

I moaned desperately at the thought, throwing my head back and moving my hips furiously to try and achieve the new goal. Dream kept me balanced as he calmly counted. "Five."

God damn it! I cursed, his order to slow down had waned my progress too much. "Ten. Best hurry, love, times almost up."

"I'm trying," I whined, the coil in my gut tightening and tightening, but not fast enough.

"Fifteen." He clicked his tongue. "Why don't I help you?"

I looked down at him, now clad in his 1889 attire, the form fitting suit, the slicked back short hair, the ruby ascot and his top hat. He dragged his tongue over his fingers and reached between us, pressing them to my abused clit. I gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders for support as I ground against him. "This is a good look too," I managed to say between heavy breaths.

"You like it?" He inquired. "Last I showed it to you it seemed you were more interested in Hob Gadling."

"You… God! You were being a tease," I sighed.

He lifted the hat from his head and placed it on mine. "Hold this for me."

Without warning he lifted my hips slightly, his fingers working my clit sliding into me. His head dipped down to my breasts, tongue and teeth sucking and pulling at the sensitive buds until all I could do was hold onto him. "Morpheus," I whined. "No more teasing, please!"

Pressing a kiss to my heart he nodded. "No more teasing, come for me and I'll reward you."

My head fell back, one of my hands just barely managing to catch his hat. "God, please!"

He moved his fingers expertly against me as I ground hips down onto them, the release I'd been steadily building towards right in sight. The coil tightened and tightened when he spoke again, "You're such a good girl, riding my fingers."

I came with a loud moan, his simple words of praise filling every inch of my trembling body with the exact thing it needed for the coil to snap. His fingers gently worked me through the orgasm while his lips kissed every inch of me. "Your voice should be illegal."

"Yes, I believe you once said it could get me anything I wanted."

"It can." I breathlessly assured him.

"So I see." He stood, holding me in his arms and walking forward until my ass met the rough wood of the take we started at. 

As I regained my breath I looked at him and smiled. "Finally."

The longer slicked back hair and glittering earrings sent heat right back into my gut. My hands smoothed down the dark leather, tugging gently on the ruby that hung around his neck. His leather class thighs felt sinfully good against my still trembling skin. 

Both his leather clad arms boxed me in as he leaned down, the ruby swinging in between us and his face only inches from my own. "Tell me, how often have you thought of this?"

"Which part? You had quite the elaborate set up here, Dream."

"You're simply unbearable," he whispered, eyes filled with lust. He kissed my jaw, teeth grazing over the skin slightly. "Tell me."

"Ever since you showed it to me." I admitted, breathlessly.

His growl vibrated through my ear, lips moving down to press against my bare shoulder. I bit my lip, closing my eyes to take in the sound. "It must have been so difficult for you to be patient."

God damn you. I thought. "Don't pretend like you weren't thinking the same thing. Tell me now, mighty Dream Lord, how often have you thought of this?"

I could feel his smirk against my shoulder. "Which part, as you said, this has all been quite elaborate."

"I'll be specific then," I mumbled. "How often have you thought of fucking me here, in this torn up dress, in this crowded tavern?"

"Since you thought of it." He admitted. "You have a very vivid imagination."

I gasped as his teeth bit at my skin, my hands spreading over the tops of his and squeezing. "High praise coming from a dream lord."

The feeling of his lips twisting into a smile nearly made my legs give way. "Praise, such a lovely idea."

He moved away from me and knelt down, gathering what remained of the material of my dress and moving it out of his way. His hands lifted my thighs, pulling me to sit further on the edge of the table. "What are you doing?" I asked over my thundering heartbeat.

"I intend to feast at Hob's table." he pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh and I moaned. "A reward for your patience."

He wasted no time, his hot tongue licking a long strip up my slit. My hands buried into his hair and grasped at the roots. He groaned against me, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to my core as his tongue swirled around my clit, slowly at first and then moving faster. My fingers pulled tighter at his hair and my head fell back, nearly pulling me flat onto the table of food. "Morpheus! Oh my god you're good at this!"

I could feel him smirk against me, but he made no move to pull away or stop. His hands held my legs apart, thumbs smoothing up and down my skin as my legs began to shake again. "Did you think I would not be?" His thoughts made me moan louder.

"No," I whispered hoarsely. "Oh, god… I knew you'd be good at this but… Fuck!" His tongue plunged into me as far as it could, lapping up all the remaining wetness from my orgasm. "Fuck you're too good at this."

He chuckled against me, the vibrations nearly making me come undone. "Morpheus, I can't!" I screamed as the building pleasure became told much. 

He pulled away, replacing his tongue with his fingers. "You can."

"Please!" I whined, pulling his hair tightly.

"One more and you can have me, my love."

His mouth was on me again, licking and sucking at my clit until I came. Dream lapped up every bit of it, pressing a kiss to my thigh before rising from the floor and tearing my dress in half. The tattered fabrics fluttered to the floor and his leather clad body leaned over me, the sensation of my bare skin against his warm leather was nearly too much. I shivered against him. "You in leather is too sexy."

He chuckled, moving some of my hair that had stuck to my forehead. "You think I'm sexy in just about everything."

"Well can you blame me?" I weakly gestured to him. "You're a masterpiece!"

"You simply enjoy flattering me," he argued.

"That too, but seriously, you're far too beautiful for this world." I kissed him. "I love you." 

"I love you," he replied easily.

I wiggled my hips toward him. "Are you finally going to fuck me?"

"Is that your wish my lady?"

Looking down at my bare body I shrugged. "You already kept your original promise, it'd be a shame to waste the opportunity."

Dream nodded, his eyes hungrily taking over me, hands following. "It would indeed."

He lifted one of my legs over his shoulder and moved me down the table. With one hand he freed his engorged leaking cock from his pants and lined it up with my still soaking and pulsing core. With the other he stroked my leg, turning his head and pressing a kiss to my knee as he slowly pushed into me. My hands gripped the edge of the table, head falling back against it with a loud thunk. The hot stretch was something I'd never get used to, something I'd never grow tired of no matter how many times he fucked me.

Once he was seated inside me, our hips flush against one another he leaned over, kneading one of my breasts in his hands as he pulled back out and thrusted back in. "Morpheus!" 

"I'll never get enough of you," he moaned, his hips moving quicker and his hands moving my legs to wrap around his small waist. He pulled me up, my hands gripping his leather clad chest as I gasped and moaned into his neck. His arms kept me from collapsing as he began ernestly fucking up into me. I barely hung off the table, his arms holding the majority of my weight. One hand gripped my hair, pulling my face back so he could look down at me. "Penelope," he set his forehead to mine and said softly, "I am yours… I have always been yours and always will be."

I pressed my mouth to his, joyful tears filling my eyes as we came together, his arms tightening around me and holding me to him. I pulled away and nuzzled my face into his cheek. "I'm yours, forever."

***

We had been back in The Dreaming for a week. Dream busied himself with work while I took to practicing my thread work. While both of us were busy we still made time for one another. As I'd seen in his memories he could be forgetful, neglecting even if overwhelmed, but he seemed to be making an effort to keep that from happening again. He'd said many times that he hadn't changed, but I could see it, as could Lucienne and Matthew and maybe even Merv.

I'd grown stronger every day, both at thread work and within The Dreaming. Licienne said it was normal, that it was simply the realm adapting to my authority. No matter what it was, I enjoyed it. Everything felt lighter, easier somehow. Spending most of my time with Lucienne studying the threads and practicing I grew very adept at finding my way through the infinite library. She and I grew closer, so much so that I nearly had her calling me Penelope. She was a good friend and a brilliant advisor and she loved this realm more than anything.

As I sat, going through the list of fruits and vegetables to craft a pressure built in my head. It was dull at first, like a headache, but slowly grew. I pulled the apple loose from the threads and voices began to echo through the library. "Lucienne?"

"Yes, Pe - my lady?" She replied, peeking her head out from the row of shelves across from me.

"Do you hear that?"

She paused, listening intently before shaking her head. "No, what is it?"

"Voices," I replied standing and honing in on them.

"You can do nothing," one said, dark and full of malice.

"I'll not let you use her as a puppet in your twisted whims." Destiny? He sounded weak, pained?

"Tell Dream I'll be right back!" I called to Lucienne before running through the door and into his garden. It was darker, deep storm clouds filled the sky and the hedges looked like they were withering.

I followed the thread, sprinting towards the center of the maze. "Destiny?!" No reply, just the whistling of the wind. I moved faster, a feeling of dread rolling over me. "DES?!"

As I broke through the maze and stumbled into the courtyard, blood coated the pristine rocks, leading over to the table where Destiny lay, clutching a hand over his side. "Penelope," he ground out. "Turn back."

I rushed to his side, pressing my hand to his. "What happened?"

"So this is the new favorite?" The voice, old and dark filled the garden. "I was expecting, well, more."

Turning my head toward the statues I saw her. Perched comfortably on a throne of black thorns adorned with rusted gold sat a woman. Her long red hair curled around her shoulder, the gold that speckled her skin shimmered in the dim light, but she was wrong. Black veins covered her arms, overtaking the faint black mark on her wrist. Beneath me Destiny groaned. "Leave her out of this."

The woman smiled. "Come then, little Weaver. Let's see if you're strong enough to best me."

"No," Destiny whispered, grabbing hold of my hand. "You cannot fight it."

"I don't think I have a choice."

The woman descended her throne and it crumbled beneath her. "You're nothing to them, the Endless. A pawn, a mortal. Join me and we can rise to our rightful place in this universe. No more rules, no more lies."

I stood, watching the careful steps she took as she walked closer. "I'm not interested."

A scoff, or perhaps a growl echoed from her. "You're a fool then. Just like Destiny. Just like Dream. Just like her."

"Her?"

She gestured to herself. "This vessel. Destiny's dearest. And, your predecessor."

"If you're not her, who are you?"

"I am just another nameless god that the Endless locked away out of fear."

Destiny laughed. "You were locked away because you threatened this world, not because we feared you."

"ENOUGH!" It screeched, dark tendrils pulling at its features, twisting to show the true face beneath. "I've waited eons for this. I'll not lose to a mere girl!"

I shrugged. "I'm a bit more than that."

Without warning it ran forward a golden blade in its hand and swiped trying to cut me. I dodged, moving high and low seconds ahead of its blows until an opening presented itself. With one quick shove to the shoulder I caught it off balance. Grabbing the wrist I slammed its hand onto the table over and over again, ignoring the way it clawed at my shoulder until the blade fell into the rocks.

Pulling my arm away I rolled, finding the knife easily and pointing it at the creature with a human face. "I'm not going to let you hurt him."

"Even after he lied?" It sneered. "Even after he withheld all the answers and knowledge from you."

"He's doing his job," I replied coldly. "A job I trust him to do, just as he trusts me to do mine."

"You are a fool!" It shrieked. "Just like she was!"

It lunged again, but as it came face to face with me, the golden blade at its throat the black of its eyes cleared, weeping gold shining through. "Kill me." The voice was soft, human, desperate.

"Lyria," Destiny breathed. "Please."

"Kill me, Weaver." She said again, pain filling her voice.

"No!" He cried out, desperately trying to rise to his feet. "Penelope don't!"

"KILL ME!" She wailed moving closer, pressing the blade deeper into her, drawing blood. "Please… I can't keep it… I can't…"

The black returned and with a bestial screech the creature was gone. The sky cleared, the hedges regrowing and everything returning to life. Destiny still lay on the ground, though his wound looked to be healing. Tears streaked down his cheeks.

I knelt down beside him. "Who was that?"

"The creature is an old I locked away in an old book of spells." Destiny said.

"And who is she?"

"Lyria," the way he spoke was pained, desperate. "She's my… She was.."

My eyes drisyed to the mark on his arm, the sane mark Dream and I shared and a wave of nauseous pain roiled through me. "What happened?"

Destiny sighed, his eyes closing. "The book changed and I did not heed its warning."

"What made it change?"

"You," he said so softly, remorsefully that it physically hurt.

I let out a shuddering breath. "I did this?"

His eyes opened again and he grabbed hold of my hand. "No. No you did not do this. I did." The tears in his eyes still shocked me. "I discovered a new Weaver had been born... You. I took you under my wing, all without telling Lyria. I was... I meant to..." He sighed again, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I was going to offer her my sister's blessing, at the price of her duties as Weaver. She and I could have lived together, here, forever."

"But you didn't?"

"I never got the chance," he admitted. "She returned from a journey, saw you... What you were and thought I'd intended to replace her. My mistake drove her to seek out knowledge, power, far beyond what she could endure. The being of darkness I trapped long ago twisted her, corrupted her and left nothing of my Lyria left but a hollow husk."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing it wouldn't help. Nothing would.

He smiled at me. "Don't be, little one. The fault is mine and mine alone." After a minute he stood, holding his book and bowed his head. "You should return to The Dreaming."

I stayed still. "Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Will you call me again if it returns?" I asked gently. "I'll help you face it."

With a sigh he nodded. "If it is what you want."

"Thank you."

I left, following the butterflies in absolute silence. Destiny was living proof that my greatest fear was possible, that I could hurt Morpheus, The Dreaming, my newfound family. Even worse, the creature that had taken Lyria could find a way to hurt them… I could fail. As I opened the door back to the library, Lucienne embraced me, her eyes taking in my clawed shoulder and disheveled state before Dream came barreling into the room. Oh, Dream. My soul bound starry eyed Dream.

He was angry, speaking low and fast, but I couldn't hear any of it. I just saw him. He was alive, safe, they all were. As tears streamed down my cheeks I moved forward, burying myself in his chest. "I'm sorry," I wept.

Dreams arms curled around me, the cold sinking into my bones. "I was worried."

"I'm so sorry!" I pulled back and looked up at him. "I will never hurt you."

"What?"

"I swear on my life, on everything that I am, I will never hurt you or The Dreaming. I'll never betray you…" I was sobbing now. "I will always come to your aid. I swear it."

His cold hands cupped my cheeks. "Breathe, my love."

Dream pressed his forehead to mine, holding me securely against him. "Breathe. You're home, you're safe."

***

The Bull marched through the white hallways, undisturbed by the screaming and wailing that echoed from every room. Everyone moved around him, the nurses, the muscle, even the other hunters, he was above them - every last one. He straightened his shoulders as he came to the office door of the renowned Dr. Elias Shenton. Opening it slowly and entering even more so he bowed his head, folding his arms behind his back. "You called, Sir?"

The echoes of his machines filtered through the room with each breath he took. Where the broad desk should have been was now a bed, turned to face the window. All he could see of the doctor was one thin, sickly arm stuck with wires and needles. "Yes, Dominic, I called for you."

"How may I be of service?"

Wheezing breaths and light coughs met his ears. God he hated how pathetic they all sounded. "Give the order to begin construction of the cage and get me Ethel's book. Dream of the Endless may not be a player in this game she's built, but she was so desperate to protect him. He may still be of use to us yet."

The Bull nodded. "Of course, Sir."

"One more thing," he added as his voice faded into coughing. The Bull waited, tapping his foot impatiently. "I want The Marquis to be dealt with."

This time The Bull smiled. "I'll handle it personally, Sir."

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#dream of the endless x reader #sandman morpheus #sandman netflix #dream of the endless #the sandman series #the sandman fanfic #dream the endless #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus imagine #the sandman x you #morpheus smut #morpheus x oc #morpheus x reader #sandman x oc #sandman x reader #morpheus fanfiction #lord morpheus #morpheus sandman #dream of the endless x oc

[fandomtherapy44]

castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Sam and Dean. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since they are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 5,820

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural

Chapter 8: Death take's a holiday

POV: Y/n

I am properly on my sixth cup of coffee at this point because I was so tired from staying up all night thinking about all the bullshit tremoli I've had to deal with. Also, I can sip it and not have to talk to Sam and Dean unless I had to. The last few weeks have been tedious with the three of us tip toeing around the fucked-up things we said when we were under the siren’s spell even though it was the truth at the moment to us. Sam was on the phone to Bobby talking about an interesting case he had found, and Dean was banging at the jukebox to get it to work, and I was trying not to explode with all the emotions I had running through my body. “No, no, no, you're right, it's definitely weird. ...Okay, Bobby, thanks.” Sam said, hanging up the phone. “What's up?” Dean sat down. “Bobby found something in Wyoming.” “A job?” I questioned. “Maybe” he responded. “Small town, no one's died in the past week and a half.” “Ok and is that not a normal good thing.” I questioned. “Well, it's how they're not dying.” 

 “One guy with terminal cancer strolls right out of hospice. Another guy gets capped by a mugger and walks away without a scratch.” “Capped in the ass?” Dean questioned and I chuckled under my breath at that one. “Police say Mr. Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a nine-millimeter.” “Alright that one no way someone is walking away it looks like we got a case.” I said as it seems like I spoke to them for the first time today. “It's got to be something nasty, right? I mean, people making deals or something.” Sam said to us. And he wasn't wrong it looked like this had demon’s fingerprints all over it. The boys get up to leave as I stay sitting. “Y/n come on” Sam said to me. “You sure you guys want me to go with you. I mean you might have to save me and that is just pathetic right?” I said sipping my coffee and not looking up from my cup. “Y/n/n we said we're sorry okay I thought we were past this.” Dean responded looking sorry for a second. I finished my cup and got up not bothering to look at them. “Yeah, we're past it.” I said as I walked past them.

We were now at the man’s house who was shot straight in the chest and is now walking around like nothing had touched him. “Now you three said you were bloggers?” He asked us. “Yes, sir. Floored by the Lord dot com.” I answered. “All of God's glory fit to blog.” Sam and I both look at Dean like really. “Um. Some of the people around town are saying what happened to you was a miracle.” I said to him. “It was. Plain as day.” “How can you be so sure?” “How else do you explain it? The doctors can't. There's a bullet in my heart, and it's pumping like a piston.” It does sound like a miracle but sadly with this life it never really is. “Well, how do you explain it?” Dean asked. Jim looks over to his daughter who was coloring at the other table and smiles. “Look, honestly. I was nobody's saint—not exactly father of the year, either.” “Okay”

“But when that guy shot me, and I didn't bleed a drop? I just knew the Lord was giving me a second chance.” Right the Lord. "That so?” “I had this feeling—like angels were watching over me.” Huh okay now that's something we can work with. “I wouldn't expect you guys to understand.” “Trust us Jim we understand.” Especially if an Angel is becoming my best friend. “You wouldn't have happened to have swung by a crossroads in the past week or so?” Sam asked getting info if this was a Demon thing. “No” Jim said back confused. “Maybe you met someone? With black eyes? Or red?” Should have stopped at the first question. “Who'd you guys say you were again?” The three of us look at each other. “Never mind. Thank you for your time.” I said getting up to leave. 

Dean was reading something on the computer while I was getting coffee … again. “Hey” Sam said entering the room. “Hey you find anything else?” I asked him. “That cancer survivor? He was clinically dead, his wife pulled the plug, and now he's taking her out for their twentieth anniversary.” The more I hear about people living their lives I want to leave this phenomenon alone. “Any sign of a deal?” Dean asked. “No. What about you? Found anyone dying around here?” “Not since Cole Griffith.” I responded back. “Poor Kid was 12 and dropped in his front yard. It was the last death we could find.” “So, what are you guys thinking?” Sam asked us. “Eh, maybe it is what the people say it is.” Dean said back.

“I think we would all love that Dean, but I don't think so.” I said back to him. “Yeah miracles? Dean, our experience, when do miracles just happen?” “Well, there's no deals. There's, uh, no skeevy faith healers.” He was right so what was going on in this town. “Dean’s right the souls aren't being taken.” “Maybe 'cause there's no one around to carry them.” Sam replied back. “No reapers that would explain this.” “Then nobody's dying. So what? The local reapers on strike? Playing the back nine? I don't know, Sam, Y/n.” “Well let's talk to someone who might Cole.” I said. “The kid? The kid's a doornail.” “Maybe maybe not but we could go talk to him to figure it out.” “I love how matter of fact you are about that. Strange lives.” We do have strange lives since we're talking about talking to a dead person.

We were digging up Cole's grave well more like Sam and I. Dean was going through Dad’s journal. “You sure this is gonna work?” He asked Sam. “No. But if his spirit's around, this should smoke him out.” “I can't believe we're doing this to a kid’s grave. It's messed up.” I said I was still digging. “Yeah, well unfortunately it's part of the job.” Sam gave me an answer when I was not looking for one, I was hoping maybe for some sympathy. “This job is jacked.” Dean said, sounding done. “How so?” Sam questioned. “You want me to gank a monster or torch a corpse, hey, let's light it up, right? But this? If we fix whatever this is, people are gonna start dropping dead. Good people.” He was right but whatever was keeping the souls I had a feeling was not good. “Look, I don't want them to die, either, Dean, but there's a natural order.” Sam’s response to Dean was complete Bullshit. “Sam, you want to talk “natural order ", how about Dean coming back from Hell or us still being alive after dealing with the jackpot of death.” I finished jamming my shovel harder in the ground annoyed at Sam. “Yeah, but the normal rules don't really apply to us, do they?” I did a double take at him.

“Really Sam? We are not like others, we are just as human as others.” “Y/n/n come on as you said Dean has been to hell and I'm infected with demon blood, and you are practically besties with an Angel.” I scoffed at his reasoning. “Look, I know you want to think of yourself as Joe the Plumber, Dean, and you y/n as a secretary but you're not. Neither am I. The sooner you accept that, the better off you're gonna be.” “You gonna help us finish this?” Sam asked Dean as a man walked up. “Hey!” shit shit shit we really need to get better at being quiet digging up graves. “What are you doing here?” He questioned. How do you even reason this? “Uh so this does not look like what it is.” I said, sounding nervous. “Really? 'Cause it looks like devil worship.” Fuck we so need to get better. “What? No! No, this is not devil worship. This—This is—this—this is, uh—” Dean was trying to reason. “I don't have a good answer.” He said and I gave him a really look. “We're leaving.” Sam said as we got out of the grave.

“You're not going anywhere.” Huh? “Ever again. Sam.” The man said as his eyes rolled to white. Oh, fucking great its Alice from Hell. “Alastair.” “I thought you got deep fried, extra-crispy.” Dean said, backing away a bit. “Nah. Just the pediatrician I was riding. His wife's still looking for him. It's hilarious. Anyway, I have no time to chat. Got a hot date with death.” He flicks his hand at Dean and I as he flies back and hits some tombstones. “Dean, Y/n!!!” Sam yelled out. I was slowly fading as I saw some things as Sam had flicked Alastair back. “You're stronger, Sam. You've been soloflexing with your little slut?” “You have no idea.” And then Alice smoked out Sam was still hooked I thought as I went out like a light.

I was sitting on the motel bed with a hell of a headache and an ice pack and wondering about Sam. “How you two doing?” He asked, walking in. I was thinking a lot about how to talk to him about this. I may be pissed but he was still my brother there was a reason why he was still hooked. “We're in pain, that's how we’re doing. I think we have concussions.” I think he was right because things were starting to cross. “You want some aspirin?” “Oh God yes please” I said, grabbing at it. My brothers may be able to tuff it out around but not me. “No thanks, House. So, demons, huh?” Dean said and of course he would say no. “Yeah. So much for miracles.” Sam replied. “And what the hell happened with Alastair again?” Dean questioned. What is Sam going to say to that I wonder. “I told you, he tried to fling me or whatever. And it didn't work, so he bailed.” Really Sam Alastair the big bad Demon couldn't fling a human when he did to us yeah that's believable. “Well, how come he couldn't fling you? He chucked you pretty good last time.” “Got no idea.” Sam’s got to get better at lying. “Sam, do me a favor. If you're gonna keep your little secrets, I can't really stop you, but just don't treat us like idiots, okay?” Dean said to Sam about us, and he had no idea. “What? Dean, I'm not keeping secrets.” 

As I said before, get better Sam. “Mm-hm. Whatever. So, did you go back and q-and-a the dead kid?” See, even Dean can sense when something is going on. “Didn't have to. Bobby called. He did some digging.” “And what did he think?” I asked. “He thinks I'm right. Local reaper's gone. Not just gone—kidnapped.” “By demons? Why?” “Listen to this.” As he read from the notebook. “"And he bloodied death under the newborn sky—sweet to taste, but bitter when once devoured."” “Ha I really hope I'm wrong sam but that sounds biblical like a seal.” “Well you are right Y/n unfortunately basically, you kill a reaper under the solstice moon—tomorrow night, by the way—you got yourself a broken seal.”

“How do you ice a reaper? You can't kill death.” Dean examined. “I don't know. Maybe demons can. Where the hell are the angels is what I want to know. We could use their help for once.” Yeah, sadly they aren't on doctor calls even though I would love to give Cas a pager. ““What are we gonna do, just swing in and save the friendly neighborhood reaper?” “You got a better idea, I'm all ears.” “Dean, reapers are invisible. The only people that can see them are the dead and the dying.” Right, oh no.”Well, if ghosts are the only ones that can see them…” No No No.”Then we become ghosts.” Dean said, putting his ice pack back on his head. “You do have a concussion.” “No Sam he doesn’t he's just insane he's talking about astral projection. Which means Pamela, which means she is going to hate us more.” I said sighing and lying back on the bed.

Pamela and Dean enter the room with Pam looking pissed. “I can't even begin to tell you how crazy you three are.” She was right, we go look for danger every day. “Well, Pamela, you're a sight for sore eyes.” Sam said to her trying to lighten the mood. “Aw, that's sweet, grumpy. What do you say to deaf people?” Damn “Which one of you brainiacs came up with astral projection?” She asked us. “Yo.” Dean said, raising his hand a bit. “Of course. Chachi.” I love how she calls them out like I do. “So, let's be clear. You want to rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world? Do you have any idea how insanely heavy-duty that is?”

“Maybe, but that's where the reaper is, so…” “So, it's nuts.” “Yes, it is but that's why we came to you.” I replied. “I do. Know what to do. And guess what? I'm sick of being hauled back into your angel-demon, Soc-Greaser crap.” “Look, I'd love to be kicking back with a cold one, watching Judge Judy, too.” Dean said to her, and he sounded like a total dick. “Nice. More blind jokes?” “You know what I mean. We're talking the end of the world here, okay? No more tasseled leather pants, no more Ramones CDs, no more” I look at her and grab her hand. “Please Pam, we need your help.”

I was closing the curtains so it would be an easier environment to slip into the astral plane. While the boys were lighting some candles. “Tell me something, geniuses. Even if you do break into the veil and you find the reaper, how are you gonna save it?” She asked us which was a good question since we hadn't gotten that far. “With style and class.” Dean replied with his usual cocky attitude. “You're gonna be three walking pieces of fog who can't touch or move anything. You'll be defenseless, hotshot.” “I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of us.” Sam said. “Sam, they had years to be mad and to practice for us it will be like going into kindergarten with seniors.” I replied to my brother's comment. “Y/n’s right.” Pam agreed with me. “Well, then, I guess we got to start cramming.” Dean said, slapping his hands together in preparation. "Wow, couple of heroes. All right. Lie down. Close your eyes.”

Sam layed down on the left bed and Dean and I layed down on the right because there were only two beds. “Animum vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. Vis, vis, vis. Okay, guys. That's it. Showtime.” I open my eyes and look around at everything looking the same. “Well, nothing like shooting blanks. What's plan B?” Dean said and Pam did not respond. I look at Sam as he jesters to our bodies. “Damn this is trippy.” “You can say that again” Sam said, agreeing with me as Pam stood up.

“All right, so, I'm assuming you're somewhere over the rainbow. Remember I have to bring you back. I'll whisper the incantation in your ear.” She said as she whispered something to Sam and I'm guessing I didn’t want to know what she said. “Y/n be safe.” “Thanks Pam you too.” I responded back even though she couldn't hear me. It was nice to have someone other than my family care about me.

We are walking on the street, and everything looks like it's colored in a bluish tint. A jogger runs through Sam like he was air well I guess he was. “That was wild.” Dean said smiling like this was fun. He then proceeds to put in his arm through Sam. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” “Get out of me.” Dean looked at me. “Oh, don't even think about it ghost or not I'll still kick your ass.” I said to him, “You guys have no fun. Come on.” He said walking further down the street. “Oh, man, we've been spooking this town for hours. No demons, no black smoke.” Dean finished as I looked up to a window of a house and saw someone staring at us. “Hey. Three o'clock. Kid in the window.” I said to them nodding my head up, he saw us and disappeared. “It's Cole Griffith, the last person to die in this town.” We look at each other and head to the house.

We go upstairs and we can hear stuff being thrown and Miss.Griffith running away scared and sad. As we enter the room Cole is standing by his dresser and he throws a soccer ball right at us. “Stop! How are you doing that?” Dean said, grabbing Cole's hand. “Who are you?” He asked us. “Cole, it's okay.” I said approaching him. “How do you know my name?” “Look, this isn't gonna be easy to hear, but...you're—dead. You're a spirit. Us too.” Sam said to him. I'm pretty sure he knows. "Yeah, thanks, Haley Joel. I know I'm dead. What do you want?” See. “We just want to talk.” I said to him. “About what?” 

Mrs. Griffith was pouring another glass of her poison at the kitchen table, and it was like looking at a video of me from when Dean was in Hell and Jack and Daniles was my best friend. Cole was standing closest to his mom looking at her. “I was outside all morning. They tell you to be careful when it's cold.” He had passed away in front of his own house from an asthma attack kid deserved so much longer. “Cold air can cause an asthma attack?” Dean asked and Cole shrugged.

“But then I was in my room. It happened so fast. I called out for my mom, but nothing came out. Everything started spinning, and then I was just standing there, looking down at my body.” “And that's when you saw the man?” Sam asked referring to the reaper. “Creepy old guy in a black suit. He wanted me to go with him, but…” He turned back to his mom. “I didn't want to go.” I don't blame him, I don't think anyone would. He was a twelve-year-old full of life with a great family. “How'd you get rid of him?” Dean asked him as in where the reaper went. “I didn't. The black smoke did.” “Black smoke?” “It was everywhere. I hid in the closet, and when I came out, it was gone, and so was he.”

“Do you know where the smoke went?” “No. But I know where it is.” Just than the lights started to flicker, and the house started to shake. “They're back.” Cole said. “Who?” He doesn't answer and vanishes. And a white shaped figure went upstairs. “Hey! Hey! Wait! We need to talk to you!” Dean said going after the white figure. Sam and I following. A woman comes down the stairs and she looked at Dean like she knows him. “Dean.” She says to him, and it looks like she does. “Do I know you?” He asked. “We go way back.”

Tessa walked down the stairs in front of us. “You don't remember me?” she asked Dean. “Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time, I heard a girl say that... You're gonna have to freshen my memory.” Tessa then surprises us all by pulling him forward and gives him a soft kiss and let’s go. "Tessa” Dean says with a knowing expression in his eyes. “That's one of my names, yeah.” “So, you do know each other?” I questioned. “From the hospital after the accident.” “Wait the one with Dad?” He nodded. “So, this is the reaper that came after you.” Sam questions looking at them both. “Yeah” Tessa then turns to the stairs to go up to the kid I’m presuming.

“Well, this was fun. Now, if you'll excuse me—” “Wait, wait, wait, wait, you can't—you can't take the kid.” Dean stops her. “Why?” “Demons are in town, that's why. They've already snatched your reaper pal. The kid knows where.” “So?” “So, you should leave, or you could be next.” I said to her. “Except that this town is off the rails.” When we are talking to her Mrs. Griffth is getting ready to go somewhere while Sam and I watch her. “And someone has to set it straight.” She said to us. “Yeah, we understand that, but these are special circumstances.”

Dean said, trying to reason with her. “What? Your whole angel-demon dance-off? I could care less. I just want to do my job.” I wish I could do that. “Right, yeah, and, look, we want to help you do your job. So, if you would just bail town— “Sam starts to say. “No.” “Well, then, could you hold off until we fix this? Please.” Dean asked, pleading with his eyes. “All right, but just so we're clear, when I start reaping again, I'm starting with the kid.” Damnit “Okay well I'll go find him.” I said starting to go upstairs but Dean stopped me. “Wait, wait, wait, wait. What— What are you gonna say to him?” I answered honestly. “The truth.” I said as all three starred after me like I was crazy.

As I walked up to Cole's room, I hoped that I could approach him in a delicate way and still tell him. “Cole? It’s me Y/n” I looked to the closet door and saw it was closed and I went over to knock on it. “Cole, I just want to talk.” He opened the door with his ghost powers, and he was sitting on the ground with his head in his knees. “How did you know I was in here?” He asked me. “When I was your age, I used to hide in here too.” I sat down next to him. “This all must be pretty overwhelming, huh? Pretty scary, too.” I hoped he could see I wanted to help him. “The worst is my mom.” “Must be hard seeing her like this.” “She's always coming in here, talking to me, telling me how sad she is. I knock some stuff over to let her know I'm here, but...she only gets sadder.”

“When someone I loved passed, I was like your mom I basically kept on talking to a ghost.” I said referring to myself when Dean died and went to hell. “I don't know why you're telling me this. I'm not telling you where the smoke is.” “Cole, I’m telling you this to help you when I was like your mom, I had someone help me so maybe you can be that for her.” “She feels your spirit, that's why she's sad because she can't be with you. So, imagine how she will feel when you move on.” He doesn't speak. “When you go, I'll be right next to you, so you won't be alone. I promise.” He looks up. “Promise” “Promise” 

Cole and I walk downstairs as I clear my throat. “It's okay, Cole. Just tell them what you told me.” “I saw the black smoke at my funeral.” “At the cemetery?” Dean questioned. “At the funeral home. It was everywhere.” It makes sense for reapers, funeral homes. Then the lights started to flicker again. “You doing that?” Dean asks Tessa. “No.” The doors burst open, and the black smoke invades all over the room and I can't see for a second and when it's gone so is Tessa. “Tessa!” “Cole, you, okay?” I asked him. He nodded his head. “Well, how the hell are we supposed to fight that?” Dean asked, sounding annoyed. “Good question, learn some ghost moves.” I suggested. “By tonight? Yeah, sure. I'll meet you back at Mr. Miyagi's.” I shrugged. “Who's Mr. Miyagi?” Cole asked and the three of us just between us and feeling old and me sad for Cole for not seeing the legendary Karate kid.

Cole was teaching us how to move a windmill and it was harder than I thought it would. Right now, Dean was trying. “It's not gonna move if you don't concentrate.” “I am concentrating.” Sam and I both raise our eyebrows at each other. Dean moves it a little bit. “Ah, here we go, baby.” And it stops. “You pull a muscle?” Cole said and let me tell you he is a funny twelve-year-old. “All right, Yoda, let's see what you got.” Cole tries and the windmill and the porch bench goes crazy with wind. “Nice Cole, that is so cool!” I said to him fist bumping him.

“Dude! You are so Amityville.” Cole smiles. “This isn't even the good stuff.” We were now in the living room learning how to punch. Cole punches Sam and he folds over. “See? If you want to hit something, you just got to get mad.” Oh, I can get mad. Sam stands back up out of breath. “Yeah, got it.” “Now you try. Hit me.” Cole said Dean. “Uh, I think I'll stick to just picking on somebody my own size.” Cole then punches Dean and Sam and I both laugh. Dean then goes to punch Cole back, but he vanishes. “Whoa. Whoa, you got to teach us that.” I said to him.

Dean, Sam, and I walked over to the funeral home, and it was covered in glowing blue diagrams, mostly six-sided figures, some in circles and some in squares, all with lines through them and squiggles inside the triangles thus formed. “This looks like New Jack City. Can nobody see this?” Dean questioned. “Maybe it's demon invisible ink. Only see it in the veil.” Sam answered. “It could be keeping out Angels.” I add in. “We'll find out.” We walk in and in the middle of the room, there is a square with triangles on each side to form an eight-pointed star, with squiggles at each point. Lying in the figure are Tessa and an old man in a suit, presumably the first reaper.

A Demon was standing guard next to the star. “Watch and learn boys.” I said going behind the Demon and tapping him on the shoulder and when he turned, I punched him and when he tried, I disappeared. Dean then comes to the other side and does the same and Sam knees him in the chest. It was an all sibling beat down. He scrambled away to a hide behind a coffin. We followed him and we didn't see the other demon behind us, and he pulled a rope that brought down an iron rod that dropped and trapped us in. A third Demon walked, and it was my favorite fucking one Alice in wonderland.

Alastair approaches us with a shotgun and shoots Dean, and he disintegrates. “Rock salt's not so much fun anymore, is it?” Sam and I glare at him as Dean reappears. “Alastair. You bastard.” “Well, go on. Why don't you try some of your mojo on me now, hotshot?” We can't do anything. Usually, I love Iron and rock salt but today it's a pain in the ass. “You know what Alice, why don't you hop your way back to Hell.” I said grinding my teeth.

“Ah the little Winchester you may be a bitch, but you got some kick It's going to be fun peeling your skin off. And I would go back. They just keep sending me back up to this arctic craphole.” “To kill death?” “No, to kill death twice. It takes two to break a seal. I figured another one would show up, though. They're like lemmings.” He cocks the gun again and this time he shoots me. I reappeared and son a bitch that hurt. “You can shoot us all you want, but you can't kill us.” “Ah, that so?” 

Alice now has a giant scythe in his hands. “Anyhoo… moons in the right spot. The board is set. Let's get started, shall we?” “You're gonna kill a reaper with that? It's little on the nose, don't you think?” Dean said. “Is it? “An old friend lent it to me. You know, he doesn't really ride a pale horse? But he does have three amigos.” He walked over to the reapers. “And they're just jonesing for the apocalypse. It pays to have friends in low places. Don't you think?” Alastair picks up the old reaper and enacted the incantation and kills him. As he does this Sam and I look up at the chandler and have the same idea. He then goes for Tessa and Sam, Dean and I concentrate on the chandler to bring it down. It falls down and breaks the trap and Tessa is able to break free. She unhooks our trap and we’re able to get out. “Bye-bye.” Dean said and the four of us vanish. 

We get back on the street and Dean and Sam are not here. “Where are your brothers?” Tessa asks me. “I'll find them when you get out of here.” She leaves and I go looking down some alleyways “SAM! DEAN!” I yell. “You can't run. Y/n. “I turn and their standing is Alastair. I back away and he follows “Not from me. I'm inside that angsty little noggin of yours.” He's about to attack but instead a white, blue lighting strikes him. “What the Hell?” “Guess again.” I turn back around, and Cas is there.

“What just happened? You guys just saved a seal. We captured Alastair. y/n, this was a victory.” “Were you here the whole time?” I ask him. He looks away. “Enough of it.” Great. “Well, thanks for your help with the rock salt.” “That script on the funeral home—we couldn't penetrate it.” “It was enochian I was right” “Why do you think I recruited you guys in the first place?” Wait hold up. “You recruited us?” I ask. “That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, y/n. It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal.” “That was you?” He nodded looking down.

“If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?” “Because whatever I ask, your brother seems to do the exact opposite.” “Cas you could have asked me, I would have helped you.” “You shouldn't have to.” “So, what now, huh? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?” “Yes.” “These are good people. What, you think you can make a few exceptions?” “You did for Dean” “He’s different. So are you.” “What does that mean?” I ask him. “Y/n? I could use your help.” It's Tessa and when I turn back to Cas he's gone.

Cole is staring at his mom again and she is looking at a photo book of Cole. “Look at her, Cole. Do you see how unhappy she is?” Tessa said, trying to convince him. “That's why I want to stay with her.” “As long as she can feel you, she'll be in pain, because she can't let go. Because you won't let go of her.” “Why won't anybody tell me what's on the other side?” “Maybe nobody wants to ruin the surprise.” “That's not an answer.” “She won't answer you, Cole. Reapers never do. But trust me. Staying here is a whole lot worse than anything over there.” I said to him. “Why?” “Because one day, your family will be gone, and there'll be nothing left here for you. It's okay to be scared.” “I'm not scared.” “We're all scared. I'm scared every day that I won't be able to save my family. It’s okay to be scared Cole.” He pauses.

“Are you coming?” He asked me. Staring at him I walk over to him and hug him. “I won't but you will be okay. I know being scared feels horrible, but I have a secret. I turn that into bravery for the people I love because they deserve it. I know you can do it too.” He let me go. “Thank you, Y/n, for telling me the truth.” And with that he walked over to Tessa and hugged her, and he melts into a white light. “Look out for that boy.” “Look out for yourself, Y/n.” “What do you mean?” “I've been around death from the get-go. You know what I see most? Lies. "He's in a better place." "At least they're together now." You all lie to yourselves, Y/n 'cause like you said, deep down, you're all scared. Stop lying to yourself, Y/n.” “What” “The angels have something good in store for your brother. A second chance. Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure, deep down, you know something nasty's coming down the road. Trust your instincts, Y/n. There's no such thing as miracles.” “What the Hell are you saying?” I didn't get an answer as I woke up.

I wake up with a deep breath and look around to see my brothers and Pam hurt. “What happened?” I question racing to her side. “Y/n, where's Tessa?” “She's…” “Pamela, I'm so sorry.” Sam said, getting emotional. “Stop.” “You don't deserve this.” “Yeah, I don't. I told you I didn't want anything to do with this. Do me a favor? Tell that bastard Bobby Singer—to go to hell forever introducing me to you three in the first place.” “Take it easy, Pamela. If it's any consolation, you're going to a better place” I said to her comforting well trying. “You're lying.” She was right, I was. “But what the hell, right? Everybody's got to go sometime.” “Y/n come here.” I go over to her and lean down. “The Angel you have on your shoulder might be more devil than you think. Be. Careful.” I backed away. Then she called over Sam. When she was done, she started to cough. She passed. “Pamela!” Dean yelled and then looked up at Sam. “What did she say to you?” Sam doesn't answer.

Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed it! I am so sorry this took so long. Part of it was writer's block and life and the other was that this is not my favorite episode, but I thought it be important to the story. But the next episode is head on the pin and oh my gosh it's probably one of my fav episodes from season four. So, look out for that!

#castiel x reader #castiel #castiel x y/n #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #team free will #spnfandom #supernatural #Supernatural Season 4 #castiel x you #Castiel x reader series masterlist #bobby singer #bobby spn #cas spn #cas x reader #cas x y/n

[fluffytsukino1009]

ATEEZ when you tell them "I want a baby"

Summary: Ateez members reacting to their s/o saying "I want a baby"

Warning: Probably none

A/N: What about my fellow atinys and the babies requests? Lol

Masterlist

Seonghwa

Asks you sit down and have the talk yes he wants it too but first needs to be sure you're both ready for it. "You know that would change a lot of things here" may sound a little bit catastrophic at first but you know he's just trying to check how much you really want it. "I'd love to start our family now but if there's a part of you hesitating about it, I can wait" Visibly excited when you confirm that's what you want.

Hongjoong

"Oh... You think we're ready?" Way more nervous than you expected so you have to be clear expressing your reasons "I mean... Yes... It sounds nice" He actually starts picturing your life together as a family and get involved in it, having a baby seems scary but having a baby with you would be amazing. First open up about his concern then gets all excited out of nowhere "Fuck it, we'll do it" kisses you deeply to seal the deal.

Yunho

"You mean right now?" Surprised but optimistic about it, ready to leave everything aside and start working in that baby. You reassure him it was a serious petition and he hugs you for a brief second to let you know how he feels about the idea "I know, yes!" Insists he wants to start working in it right away, you have to accept he's not joking but genuinely excited about the process that takes to get you pregnant.

Yeosang

"Ok" Smiles at you widely and come back to his cellphone. You had to repeat the question to confirm he listened to you the first time "Yes, love" He laughed while looking at your confused face, it was obvious you didn't expect it to be so easy "Do you want me to check that about your fertile days? Or you prefer to try in the old school way?" Definitely ready for it and happy you're ready too but still takes everything with calm.

San

Stares at you in silence not sure what to say, expect to hear your reasons while he creates the right answer. Loves the idea of having a baby with you but still feels a little bit concerned about how different your life would be. "I think... If we're gonna do it we should... You know... Go to the doctor and get a check out and all that stuff... Do it right" You may feel a little bit overwhelmed looking at him so nervous but over time he start feeling everyday more sure about his decision.

Mingi

"Why?" Stares at you scared but regrets it as soon he notice you're not happy with his answer "Give me a minute to think better about it" Hates to see you overwhelm but refuses to agree with you just to avoid the conflict. Allows you talk and even complain about him out loud, still remains in silence, making up his mind, thinking about all the cool stuff he could do as a father "Yes, I think we should do it" It's his final decision not planning to change his mind.

Wooyoung

"I want a baby too" The excitement in his face let you know he's not joking, still feel the need to ask for a more serious reply. "I've been thinking about it for a while, didn't know how to tell you" Shares his thoughts and desires with you, wants to know exactly what's crossing your mind, hopes you both can get to agreements about how you'll raise your child. Makes it clear you're free to choose the way to take the pregnancy "Your body, your choice"

Jongho

"Sure, let's do it" Honestly you were expecting that type of answer, for a while he had been pointing about how you'll both be great parents and have some brilliant, talented handsome kids. "You... really want it, right'" He's aware how insistent he could be about that topic and hate to think that's the only reason why you suggest it. Doesn't need a lot to believe you're honest about it and shows his excited about it kissing you repeatedly.

#kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez requests

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

That one AU where Harriet Hook and Anthony Tremaine go to Auradon.

@dragoneyes618 @auradon-bore-a-don @idontliketomatoesleavemealone @eahravinqueen

The start of this AU?

Well, no weird soulmate dreams, for starters. Ben decides to start the Isle kids program with no dubious magic whatsoever, because he is a sweetheart like that.

So instead of taking a purple-haired girl and whover she runs with (Isle novella), or simply taking randomly-chosen children of major villains that approximately match him in age (D1) and going for a shock therapy I guess, he reaches out to Dr Facilier, the headmaster of Isle's biggest school.

(Not to Yen Sid, because I have no idea who the fact is that and he sounds suspicious anyway.)

So Ben, the soon-to-be boy-king, sends a message about his first official proclamation to the Dragon Hall.

Now, Doctor Facilier's objective is „get my kids out of there as soon as and not fuck it up for the other ones,“ which, you know, sensible enough. Good for him.

He asks Harriet and Anthony to his office, to discuss the matter, as they are more of an unpaid help than students anyway. He shows them the envelope.

„So, the Beast is dead?“ asks Harriet, which, again, sensible reaction, because why the fuck would you name a sixteen years old a king anyway.

„Unfortunately, no.“ (Which is why we can't afford to fuck this up.)

„...Shame,“ both of them sight at the same time. Dr F can't say he disapproves of that sentiment.

They look over the text for some time.

„Who is comming over?“ Anthony asks, as if he didn't care in the slightest. Honestly, Facilier is kind of surprised they hadn't made a grab for the invite yet, to get it for them and their families.

„My daughters,“ he says.

„It says four people,“ Harriet says, „With the hope of bringing more over if the first four prove that they can give up their villianous ways.“

Yeah. And what's her point?

„...You do know that your daughters would level Auradon in between them, right?“

„Excuse me?!“ His daughters do have self-preservation instincts, thank you very much.

She only lifts one eyebrow at him and jerks her head in the direction of distant explosions. ...Which are most likely caused by CJ Hook (which Harriet conveniently ignores for the moment), Zevon, and, yeah, his Freddie. Those other two are bad influence, but yes, point taken.

„Celia then. Freddie comes over in the next round.“

„Fair enough. Who's coming with her?“

In that moment, he makes the decision: „You two should come. You want the little ones out as much as I do. Oh, and you will take care of my daughter, unless you want to experience the other side, first hand.“

„Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise.“

Great, he still has it.

But, of course, there is still one spot left. Dr F leans back as they stare at it, and then at each other. This is not his problem anymore.

Harriet bites her lip: „...I want to take CJ,“ she says, her hand in a fist, „but...“

Facilier watches in amusement as Anthony briefly covers her hand with his own, and really, shame he won't see how this will play out. Celia will keep him informed, he is sure.

Eventually, they decide to take Dizzy, because she is the least murder-prone out of their relatives, and also friends with Celia. Oh, and Auradon will adore her, with her colourful dresses, sparkly tiaras and unnatural cheerfulness.

That can only be beneficial.

(Not CJ, for obvious reasons. After her fun trip, there wouldn't be much of Auradon left.)

(Not Harry, because he'd refuse to leave without Uma and their crew, and also because he might just hook the Beast, which, fajr enough, honestly.)

(Not the Smee twins, because you don't split up twins.)

(Not Sammy, because Harriet needs them to run the crew and ship in her absence. And look after CJ – Nothing to envy here. Absolutely nothing.)

(Not any other of the Tremaine cousins, as they might just throw themselves at all princess and princesses in sight, which, not a good idea in the long run, or stab when they are looked at. Generally depends on... Actually, neither Dr F nor Anthony are sure. They don't intend to find out.)

(Not any of the younger ones, either, because they picked up the stabbing habit, and also, highschool.)

Now, here is how it went down in the port:

[Several minutes of stabby Sammy Smee trying to track down the two younger Hooks]

Harriet: „Harry, CJ, I'm going to Auradon for a while.“

CJ and Harry: „What?! When-?! Unfair!“

Harriet, paying them no mind: „If it all goes well, we will be able to get you and the other kids out of there very soon.“

CJ: „Why can't I go now?!“

Harriet: „Because you'd blow something up and get sent back. Also, we need to make a good impression.“

Harry: cackles

CJ: „Hey! I can behave if I want to!“

Harriet:

Harry:

CJ: „...Fine. Point taken. But they'd deserve it.“

Harry: „And why can't I go?“

Harriet: „Would you? Alone?“

Harry: „...Point taken.“

Harriet, sighting: „That's what I thought. Meanwhile, do not die, try not to kill too much people, and remember, no open fire in the port.“

And by the Tremaines:

Anthony:„Dizzy, you are going to Auradon.“

Dizzy: „I am?!“

Anthony: „Yes. Go pack your things.“

Lady Tremaine: „Where are you going and where are you taking her?! Who will run the saloon?!“

Anthony: „You could do it, for a change, grandmother. It is in your name, after all.“

Lady Tremaine: „You-!“

Anthony: „Yeah, no. We are staying in the port until we go. Don't try to reach us.“

So, you know.

No one dies.

(That's always worth mentioning with the Hooks.)

Celia and Dizzy spend the remaining days on the Isle trying to get Harriet and Anthony to confess their love and ideally also to get Sammy to officiate their wedding. CJ helps, of course, but turns out she and Dizzy don't agree on the methods.

Anyway, the day of departure is there, the limo comes, same old, same old.

The goodbyes contain last reminder to „not murder anyone, or at least not to get caught,“ (the Hooks, on both sides), „Have fun,“ (the Faciliers, and it's terrifying), and promises to send a lot of letters and dresses and tiaras (Dizzy).

In the limousine, Anthony reminds Dizzy to not stuff herself silly with chocolate or at least wipe her face properly for god's sake, and Harriet swallows her remark that it might be poison. (She is reasonably sure that tea time with poison is not exactly normal. Won't stop her from being paranoid, though.)

Finally, they arrive to Auradon Prep, and, oh my god, the music.

What on earth is that music.

It's illegal, that's what it is.

The limo stops.

The music, unfortunately, does not.

Anthony is the first to climb out: he opens the door right into the driver's face and then he is in Auradon, the colourful kingdom of pixie dust and other glass shoes and other such insanities: Dizzy is gonna love it here.

But meanwhile, why is the world so bloody bright?!

Seriously, his eyes hurt.

And not only from the onslaught of honestly offensive pastels.

He turns around and offers his arm to Harriet to help her climb out of the limousine, as a proper gentleman, and it's only basic etiquette, really.

...Ignore Dizzy and Celia giggling.

Harriet steps out into the sun, mutters a soft „fuck“ and blinks a few times; she also keeps her hand on his for slightly longer than reasonable, but he is pretty sure no one in Auradon notices that kind of stuff. Or cares.

Either way.

They take a few steps forward, to allow the younger girls to climb out too and also to create a barrier between them and the crowd with their bodies.

Dizzy and Celia hold onto eachother for support, too, Dizzy a bit overwhelmed, but Celia seems to glow under the crowd's attention. (She has also managed to draw a totally unnatural shadow over hers and Dizzy's eyes.)

Now, a boy steps forward and introduces himself as Ben.

So this is prince Ben. How... Intriguing.

„Right,“ Harriet says, and then leans to whisper into Anthony's ear: „How old is he again?“

Of course, being the drama queen she is, she stage-whispers loud enough for the majority of the crowd to hear.

„I believe he is sixteen,“ Anthony answers, ignoring the boy-king, and actually quite amused at the expression the princess by his side is making, thanks for asking.

„Pfff. Just a baby,“ Harriet snorts, „Teenage boys shouldn't be in charge of anything, much less a kingdom.“

„You wound me, Harriet.“

„Anyway, as I was saying,“ interrupts the boy-king rather awkwardly, „I'm Ben, and-“

„Prince Ben, actually!“ the pink princess on his arm is much better at interruptions than he is, „Soon to be king!“

Anthony can see the willpower it costs Harriet not to roll her eyes, and, honestly, same.

„And I'm princess Audrey!“

So this it the game they want to play?

Fine.

He glances at Harriet and she nods subtly.

Let's dance, then.

He smooths out his suit and steps forward; he takes the shallowest bow he can afford, one that could be interpreted as much as an insult as a sign of respect.

„I'm Lord Anthony Tremaine,“ he introduces himself, and takes pleasure in the gasps of the crowd; then he moves on to introduce Harriet, as a proper gentleman should: „And this is Captain Harriet Hook of Scattered Hope.“

He takes extra care to stress her title.

She doesn't bother to as much as angle her head.

He introduces his cousins, too, as „Lady Desdemona Tremaine,“ („I go by Dizzy, actually!“ she beams at the crowd), and then Celia, who doesn't have any titles as far as he is aware of, but who has perfected the art of creepy waving and eerie smiles.

Good for her.

Now, hete comes the fun part: when the Isle kids hear „Captain Hook,“ they think of Harriet and her safe ship more often than not.

On the other hand, when the Auradon citizens hear „Captain Hook,“ a shiver runs down their spines as they remember her father.

Which is, of course, why Harriet insists on being addressed as „Captain Hook“ at every possible occasion.

Yes, even in the bullshit that is Fairy Godmother's Remedial Goodness class.

FG:„Miss Hook?“

Harriet: „...“

FG: „Miss Hook!“

Harriet: „...“

FG, sighting: „Captain Hook, your answer to following question?“

Harriet: „When I see a baby on the street, first I check whether it is a trap or not, so I take my cutlass out and poke at the shadows a bit and maybe threaten a few people. If no one shows up, I check my pockets. Then I give the baby to Sammy to take to the ship and track down that bastard that abandoned a baby. Or murdered its mother, in which case I've got another stupid murderer at my hands, and need to deal with that, too, on top of somehow getting baby formula and deciding which one of my crew will get stuck carrying for it. Does that answer your question, Fairy Godmother?“

FG: „...“

Harriet and Anthony: smile sweetly

And, of course, they get into moderately heated discussion with King Beast, which Lumiere later describes as "the shouting match a the decade".

Upon exiting his office, Anthony asks when they are going to shout at him for real;

„Just wait until my sibling get there,“ answers Harriet, „Especially CJ.“

And Anthony smiles, because he finds the image of Harriet's tiny half-way feral sister yelling at King Beast as amusing as she does.

(It happens, btw. CJ yelling at him. She needs to drag a stool over to look at him straingh, which is hilarious as it is, nevermind that the former king doesn't run because he doesn't know what is good for him.)

Shortly after the first debate, the rest of the Isle kids are brought over.

Happy end!

(I'm soft, people. How could I not?)

Also, here, enjoy some fun facts:

Anthony is an only son of a french noble family that likes to think itself better than it is. Harriet is the eldest daughter of an English noble and an Eton graduate. Of course they know etiquette. And they are not afraid to weaponize it.

They are also nineteen years old. Surrounded by sixteen years old royals that have never once prepared a breakfast in their lives. They are tired.

Rules? What rules? You mean those things we have memorised so we can break them better?

„Technically-“

Anyway, curfew, that is, like, a suggestion? Right?

Meaning, Harriet has insomnia and Anthony is not leaving her alone. They are found wandering the school grounds more often than not. Well, they are not found, as the school security sucks.

Also, Harriet has some things to say about Lonnie being Ben's only bodyguard. As has Anthony. And Celia.

She just stares at the people that told her and goes: „Well that's bloody stupid.“

„Language, Celia!“

Also, both Harriet and Anthony reflectively (and preventively) reprimand the AKs and order them around.

„Careful in those high heels, the pavement down there is broken. Are you prepared to drop them if you need to run?“

„If you want to steal the knives, hide them better.“ („I was just trying to... I was just trying to butter a toast?“)

„Don't stab eachother in the halls, please.“

(As I said, they are tired.)

None of the Isle kids wear the uniforms. Anthony and Dizzy think they are a crime against nature, Harriet doesn't care enough, and Celia complaints that it doesn't fit her aesthetic.

Harriet wears her red cloak. It flares around her when she marches down the hall and she enjoys the manner in which the AKs get out of her way.

Anthony calls her „Ettie“ in public precisely one (1) time. She reacts by saying that she will dismember him and use his bones to create a tinker toy to hang above his youngest cousin's crib.

Oh, and Anthony gets a look at the financial management of the kingdom. You wouldn't believe how bad it is.

Yeah, he and Harriet are totally dating. As in, established relationship, but they refuse to acknowledge it.

Also, Dizzy and Celia are crushing at eachother a bit. (They are, what, thirteen? That happens, right?)

If you have any questions//anything that you find interesting, I'll gladly elaborate.

#disney descendants #cj hook #harriet hook #harry hook #freddie facilier #celia facilier #anthony tremaine/harriet hook #anthony tremaine #anthony descendants

[austinsgirl]

Rather Die | Chapter 13

rating: pg-13

warnings: talk of pregnancy

word count: 2121

cross posted on wattpad

masterlist

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Victoria's heart pounds in her chest walking up to Austin's front door.

She decided she would just show up at his place to break the news to him, as if she told him "Hey, we need to talk.", Austin would immediately know.

Vic presses the button on Austin's 'ring' doorbell. It takes him a moment to come to the door.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" Austin's voice rang through the speaker of the doorbell. He answers it with just a pair of grey sweatpants. 

Victoria's eyes widened at the site, but snaps out of it really quick before remembering what she was there for.

"Hey Vic, what are you doing here?" Austin asks.

"Hey, sorry. Is this a bad time? Did I wake you?"

"Oh no. I was up, just still in bed."

"Oh, okay. Um, can I come in?"

"Uh, sure. What's going on?"

Austin let's her inside, and she has a seat in his living room. He follows and takes a seat as well.

"So um, I'm here today, to tell you that you are...the father. Of my baby. Here's the test results for proof so you know that I'm not bullshitting you or anything." she says, handing him the test results she printed from her email.

Austin reads over the results with his hand over his mouth in disbelief. 

"I honestly had this really strong feeling that it was going to be me. And just so you know, I wouldn't have thought you were bullshitting me." he smiles shyly.

"Really? Not even with all of our bickering and hating each other?"

"No. This is serious. I know you wouldn't fuck with me about something like this."

"Well, good."

"Um, so how is this going to work? Like raising her & such?"

"Her? How do you know it's going to be a girl?"

"I just do. I have a feeling."

"Well, for now, we'll say 'they' or 'the baby'. Personally, I think it's going to be a boy, but I'm not going to just say it is one until I know."

"Well, I can't wait for the day when we find out it's a girl and I'm right."

"Oh of course, because you're a man, and you always have to be right." Victoria says starting to get snarky.

"Do you always have to try and pick a fight?"

"Isn't that, like, our thing? I mean, you'd do it too. And you provoke me most of the time."

"You provoke me to get snarky with you. But we should try and make it to where it's not our thing for the baby's sake."

"You're right. We really do need to try and be civil. Although, that's going to be hard. Kinda like fighting with you."

"You do?"

"Yeah. It can be, uh, fun sometimes."

"Maybe we can just take it down a notch to start. But, um, anyways. How are we doing this?"

"I guess we'll have to figure out custody & stuff like that before they're born."

"I would like half, if that's okay with you."

"I'm okay with that."

"Like I said before Vic, I want to be a part of the baby's life and I will step up & be its father. I will help you in any way that I possibly can. I got us into this, so it's only right that I help."

"Thanks, Aus. I really appreciate it."

"Aus? I don't think you've ever called me that."

"It just, um, came out. Sorry, if you don't like it, I won't say it again."

"No, no. I like it." he smiles. "When's the next doctor's appointment? I'll make sure I'm free that day and I'll swing by your place & pick you up, and we can go together."

"It's next month on the twelfth at noon. Ashton already said he won't be able to make it to that one. He has studio time booked and paid for at that time of the month that he can't lose."

"Okay. I'll put that in my phone, so I won't forget."

"Sounds good. Um, maybe that day to, we can go grab lunch after and really start figuring shit out, as I know absolutely nothing."

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Okay. I should uh, get going. I'm supposed to be meeting up with Ashton for brunch."

"Alright. I'll walk you out."

Austin walks Victoria out & they say their goodbyes.

As soon as Austin is back inside, he drops to his knees with his face in his hands. Tears start to stream from his from his eyes.

So many thoughts run through his head. 

"How am I going to be a father?"

"Am I ready for this?"

"What's going to happen with my career?"

"Do I ever tell Victoria that I love her?"

"Is she ever going to fully forgive me for fucking up everything?"

Austin stands up and pulls him together the best he can. He pulls out his phone, "Hey Baz? I really need some advice and I don't know who else to go to." 

He called his 'Elvis' director, best friend, and mentor, Baz Luhrmann.

"Of course, Aust. Want me to come over?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Alright. I'll be right there."

When Baz arrived, he knocked on the door. Austin yells out "You can come in!" from inside.

As soon as Austin sees Baz, he pulls him into a hug and sobs into his shoulder. 

"It's okay, Austin. I'll help you through this, whatever it may be." Baz says, consoling him.

Austin pulls away taking a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

"I really fucked up, Baz." he says.

"How so? Let's go sit down & we talk about everything."

They go into the living room and have a seat.

"Now, how did you 'fuck up'?" Baz asks.

"You know how I just made that movie with Victoria Williams?"

"Yes, I'm aware. Go on."

"Well, we had met at auditions, went on a date, then we went out to the cast party before filming. We had a really good connection, we were dancing all night together until her friend got into my head & I listened with my dick and not my head, and kissed her. Vic saw us and hated us both after. I decided well if she hates me, and she's going to be a bitch to me, then I hate her too. I stupidly went out with her friend after Vic had told me about her friend's reputation with cheating, but I didn't care."

"The friend cheated on you, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did. And I realized that I still have feelings for Vic. Fuck, I'm in love with this girl. But now she's taken, and he's a great guy, and I'm happy that she's happy. But the worst part is, is that we hooked up after one of our little petty arguments and-

"She's knocked up?"

"How did you know?"

"I just saw it coming."

"So, yeah. The girl I am in love with is pregnant with my baby & is dating someone else. If I didn't fuck everything up, if I didn't kiss Eliana that night, me & Victoria would be happily together, about to be raising this baby without having to co-parent. What the hell do I do, Baz?"

"I think right now, most importantly, be there for Victoria every single step of the way. Every second you can possibly be there for. And even if you have the urge to fight if she gets snippy with you, rub it off. Be nice. Be civil. Because that is who you really are, Austin. Now, if you two are meant to be together, it'll happen. The universe has a plan for everyone, you just have to trust it. I'm sure whatever happens, it'll all be okay. And you know, Uncle Baz will be here to help you with the baby whenever you need me."

"Thanks, Baz. It really means a lot."

"Of course, Aust. I'll always be here."

Next month

Victoria is picked up by Austin at her place for the doctor's visit.

"Hey mama." Austin says, as Vic gets into the car.

She giggles, "Hey daddy. Oh, that's weird. Ew."

Austin chuckles while trying to hide the fact that he liked being called "daddy".

"How have you been?" he asks her.

"Lots of morning sickness, which is fun. What about you?"

"I've been alright. You look great, by the way."

"Uh, thank you. I definitely don't feel great."

"You're welcome."

Austin's heart races being near her. All he wants is to grab her hand right now as they drive, but he knows he shouldn't.

The car ride was pretty silent & awkward for a while, until Victoria broke the silence.

"Have you thought of baby names at all?"

"Uh, no. Should I be?"

"I mean, if you want a part in naming our child, than I would say you should be."

"I would like to have a part in naming our child, yes. I'll start thinking about names. Do you have any in mind?"

"Um, for a boy, I like Stephen or Andrew. Maybe Jesse. I want his middle name to be David if that's okay with you. It was my Dad's name."

"Oh, yeah. David would be great. That's my Dad's name as well."

"Perfect. We agree on something."

"You say that as we haven't agreed on anything yet."

"Well, we usually have different thoughts on things, so."

"Yeah I guess, you're right."

"Do you like any of the first names I have picked?"

"Um, yeah. They're not bad. I kinda like Jesse. Could be a nod to Elvis' brother."

"I had a feeling you'd say that."

"Why? Because I love Elvis so much?"

"Yep."

"Well, I did live my life as him for three years. Him and all the Presley's will always be like family to me."

"That's actually really sweet, Aus."

"Yeah, Lisa Marie is like a second mom to me. We've really gotten to have that mother-son bond."

"That's good. I'm sure it's nice to have a mother figure in your life again." Victoria says that as she rubs her hand on his in comfort.

Feeling her touch, Austin feels shivers down his spine. He didn't know how much he missed it until now, even if it was only for a few seconds.

They finally made it to the doctor's office. It wasn't much of a wait before they were called back.

The nurse took Victoria's vitals to make sure everything was checking out before Dr. Martin came in to do the ultrasound.

"Hello, mom & dad. Step dad couldn't make it today?" Dr. Martin says walking in.

"Yeah, unfortunately he's stuck at work. Hopefully next time he can make it." Vic responds.

"Yes, let's hope. Next visit we should be able to find out the gender from the ultrasound, unless you want to know sooner. We can get the results through a blood test now that you're past ten weeks."

"Umm, let's wait. I'd love to have Ashton here for that, and I'm not planning on doing a gender reveal or anything."

"Okay, sounds like a plan. Let's see where baby is measuring today."

Dr. Martin preps Victoria for the ultrasound by putting the cool gel on her belly, and takes the little reader thing & swirls it around in the gel. "Looks like you've already got your little bump going." She says.

Victoria giggled, "Yeah, I cried when I first noticed it."

Austin looks down and is in awe seeing the little bump, knowing his baby girl or boy is in there.

"We should be able to hear the heartbeat. Let's see if we can get that to pick up. Baby does look pretty active. Measuring to about eleven weeks. As you can see, the baby is now looking more like a baby. Here's the head, and then right here you can see the arms starting to grow, as well as the legs." Dr. Martin says as she's feeling around. "Oh, I hear something. Let's turn it up...Yep, there's the heartbeat. Nice and healthy."

Victoria grabs Austin's hand in excitement, "That's our baby, Aus." she says as tears fill her eyes.

Austin starts to tear up as well from the mixed emotions of holding her hand & hearing the heartbeat.

"Can I get a recording of that? Or record it on my phone so I can show Ashton later?" Vic asks.

"Of course. This machine doesn't have a recording option but you can definitely record it on your phone." Dr. Martin says.

Victoria lets go of Austin's hand to grab her phone out her shorts pocket to take a video.

As soon as she lets go, Austin's heart drops. He wishes he never had to let go & that the moment could last forever. 

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

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler one shot #austin butler smut #austin imagine #austin butler rather die #rather die #elvis #elvis presley #elvis 2022

[stxrvel]

the 5 stages of (my) life

summary: he was everything. there was no before or after him. it was just him.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: i think 7k?

warnings: thoughts of loneliness, depersonalisation, mention of depressive symptoms, a lot of bad words at some point, implicit descriptions of sex. i wrote this to be pure angst, idk if i got it, we'll see, you'll tell me.

note: i was watching Grey's Anatomy today and a specific episode about a couple inspired me to write this. it's too inspired by that so thank you Grey's! i don't know if i got the angst i wanted, i hope i did. i actually wrote this just with suffering on my mind. anyway, hope yall like it!! (English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!) also, I uploaded this at half past one in the morning so I didn't have time to edit the quotation marks, but tomorrow night I'll make the text look much nicer!

thank u for reading!

You never thought things would go this far.

"I'm not going to stand here and watch you risk your life because you're incapable of expressing your feelings. I'm not worth being put through this."

"You're talking about my fucking life! Why do you want to take control of all the shit I do now? Fuck you."

"I can't believe how fucking insane you've become."

You never thought things would get worse like this.

"I gave up a lot of things for you and you know it!"

"You make it sound like I forced you to. I never asked you to give up your life for me!"

"Exactly, that's the damn problem! You've never asked me to do anything, you've never asked me to do anything, I've just done all this stuff on my own trying to cope with a relationship that's become… one-sided!"

You had heard for a long time how a great many people had said that their best relationships had started with a flame. You couldn't count on the fingers of your hands the number of times you've heard someone say that the best relationship is the one that is always alive, where they keep the flame burning.

But what if it's not a flame? What if it all started with a fire?

You'd heard a lot of things about love, about life, about attachment, but you'd never really experienced it, and you couldn't know how, with the lifestyle you led, your reactions would be when you finally had one. Although, honestly, you didn't expect to ever have one after so many disappointments and abandonments; however, there was one thing that was common about love, that you had heard everyone say: it comes when you least expect it.

But the moment came and, after that event, you considered that your life had only five stages. Only five truly remarkable things that had brought you to the eternal extreme of misery. There was nothing before, there was nothing after. There was only him.

1

You had seen that man, by far, about seven times in the last month. He had a stern look on his face, as if he was in a constant staring match with someone inside his head, or as if he was someone completely drained of emotion, who had lived and felt too much and was tired of it.

Or maybe he was just unfriendly.

Every time you went to therapy, within the last four weeks, you met that man.

The two of you always waited, sitting across from each other in the narrow hallway, trying fiercely to avoid each other's gazes. Or well, you tried not to meet his too much, sometimes it really felt too heavy. Then he would be called first and, more often than not, he would come striding out with his hands clasped. If his vibe was too strong for the session, your therapist never tried to point it out. When he left, the doctor would appear behind him with her typical half-smile calling you by your last name, even though you had asked her not to do so several times.

The other times, which were not so common, the man actually took the time to look serene. You even thought you saw him give you a nod in greeting once, but you couldn't be completely sure of that.

You had never spoken to each other, you were just two strangers who happened to be in the same place at the same time of day at certain times of the week. Still, sometimes, when his eyes met yours, you felt like you were looking into a mirror.

Anyway, you had never spoken to each other, until one day you decided to change that, just because what was the worst that could happen?

"After a while it feels like you have no reason to come, don't you think?"

The man turned his head, and it was the first time he saw you out of volition. His clear eyes moved in an almost imperceptible way, analysing something about you, your face, your clothes, your posture. He looked like a predator ready to strike, but he didn't count on you being a very, very chill gazelle.

"I don't know if you can relate, but it's been really hard for me to come these last few times. I think my only motivation is to come here to have a battle with you of who can go the longest without seeing the other for 30 minutes even though our feet are almost touching?"

You thought you heard a snort in response. Mmm, it wasn't much, but worse was nothing.

"You could just not come," he replied, more crudely than you expected, actually surprising you because you didn't expect him to even pay attention to you.

"Yes, I could," you agreed with him, your gaze drifting to the white tiles, "Anyway, I don't have someone who really cares that I'm okay."

You twisted your lips in a very conformist gesture, and dismissed your attempt at conversation as a failure. Indeed, what was the worst that could happen? That the man would think you were pitiful. But what does it matter? He is a stranger. He's the only person you see regularly besides your therapist. Why should you care that the conversation didn't work? You shouldn't expect the opposite. At some point he'll stop going, he can't be as bad as you. When you least expect it, it will just be you in that narrow hallway again.

"Therapy can be very counterproductive for people who are alone."

You looked up when the man spoke again. You didn't know if you were seeing wrong, but his gaze wasn't as hard as before. He seemed… sympathetic.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not alone when we wait in this hallway."

You didn't answer him. You watched him as if he were a fly swatted on a wall. You didn't know what to say. What was that supposed to be? Words of support? From a stranger? And what was supposed to be a response to them? That man had flipped the table on you, catching you off guard, and that didn't make you feel very good.

You watched him even after a while in silence, when he had already looked away, his head was down and he had focused on other things. You didn't know what your scrutiny was about; you didn't know whether you were looking for a lie or a mockery, a truth or a ruse. You didn't even know what it was all about. But what does it matter anyway? He's a stranger. He's a stranger sharing that narrow corridor with you. A stranger. A stranger who gave you a few words of support. A stranger. It's a stranger. He is a person.

You shook your head, suddenly regaining your composure. You ran your hands over the fabric of your trousers several times, up and down, down and up. Constantly. About ten times.

You didn't know if it was just you, but you felt suddenly obfuscated in that corridor. As if the walls had invisible hands closing around your throat.

You didn't really know much. You only knew that after the doctor called the man, James, you would never again take the liberty of speaking to strangers as if they were acquaintances, especially those in therapy.

But your mind went blank when James stood up and, before he left, looked at you as if it was something he had planned to do. As if he really wanted to do it. As if he had intended to…

No.

No more.

2

It didn't work.

Of course, it goes without saying that it didn't work.

How could it work? You saw him at least twice a week. And you were weak. Too weak. Too weak. Extremely and potentially vulnerable to suddenly hitting people who gave you a little affection and understanding. You were vulnerable to hitting people. You were vulnerable to ending up in therapy. You were vulnerable.

So what didn't work? Trying to limit your conversations with James to looks. Over the next three weeks, he seemed to have made it his mission to try to keep you company. Did he have any idea how uncomfortable that was for you? But you weren't going to tell him, how could you? Apparently the man wasn't a grumpy, mean looks machine, he was definitely a person who was getting some therapy. He was a person who understood your situation because he had to go through it himself. He was a person. He was a stranger.

Mostly, at that moment, you remembered the conversation that had led you to be in that coffee shop. It was strange. You felt alien to yourself, to your surroundings, but you tried to keep your mind enlightened so you wouldn't freak out.

"You look different."

"We saw each other three days ago."

James twisted his lips. "That's no excuse for not noticing that you look different."

You took a deep breath.

"You really made it your business to talk about something every time we see each other. Did you get tired of me beating you in the staring duels?"

"I'm just trying to get you back in therapy."

"By harassing me with questions?"

"By turning me into a person who cares."

You frowned. The constant knot in your chest was starting to become more and more unbearable. You felt the food from that morning in your throat.

"You'll get the opposite."

James pursed his lips and held up his hands.

"Hey, are you doing anything on Saturday?"

That had been the first time. Yes. Completely out of the loop, somehow you'd agreed the first time. And maybe it wasn't as bad as you'd hoped. Or maybe it was. You had no idea. Just as you had no idea how you had ended up in the same situation for the fifth time.

Fifth time? My goodness.

"You're particularly quiet today," James' face suddenly materialised in front of you.

At what fucking point had he arrived?

"I'm always quiet."

"Not as quiet as today. Are you okay?"

"What are we doing?" you blurted out suddenly. You didn't even process the words in your head until you saw the man's face contort in confusion.

"What are we doing?" James repeated your question, "We're having coffee in a coffee shop."

"You're a top notch clown, you know that?"

The man let out a laugh, and you watched his shoulders move in time with his breaths.

"We're just sharing time. Don't freak out."

"Sharing time?"

"Yes, sharing time."

"I don't think I've shared time with someone in a long time."

"That's not bad. It's good to share time with yourself."

You twisted your lips. You stared at the bubbles in your coffee, still steaming on the table.

"I had to learn to share time with myself," you looked up to see him with his head cocked to one side, a gesture you had learned to associate with his absolute attention to your words. "You've shared time with yourself?"

James nodded.

"All the time, to tell you the truth. I can barely escape myself."

You smiled at him. The constant knot in his chest seemed to have subsided for now.

"I guess we both got to learn."

The man raised his glass of black coffee, tilting his head, "It's the hazards of the job."

Yes, that was definitely what it had to be about. The things that constantly occupied you outside of coffee shops and therapy. Of the things that occupied your head so that you didn't delve into your intrusive thoughts, even though sometimes they seemed to come alive and present themselves in the faces of the people you saw in your daily life.

Undoubtedly it must have been because of that night job. It wasn't a job you loved, it was a job you imposed on yourself to try to make yourself feel better at night when you were trying to sleep. It was a duty. It was a task you couldn't refuse. Too many people had already died for you to give up. You had nothing left.

Many people said it was the job of a vigilante; other people said it was the job of a criminal. In the end, what did it really matter as long as it left you with a clear conscience?

Your therapist knew, but you didn't know if James knew. If he was aware of it and preferred to overlook it to have coffee with you. Or if he knew and preferred to ignore it so as not to ruin things. Or if he knew and pretended he didn't so you wouldn't notice he was doing it all out of pity. Or if he didn't know.

Honestly, you didn't know which was worse.

Sometimes you thought things were better when you were just strangers in a narrow hallway. Sometimes you thought it would be better if you didn't have to make an emotional commitment to him, even though you knew you were already doing it; unconsciously you were doing it.

You had always believed that it was better to be alone. Not to have company. Not to share time with someone you could potentially lose. It was easier to get the job done when you got home and didn't have to answer a text or remember that there's someone waiting for you to text them that you got home safe and sound.

"Hey, don't overthink it."

James' voice broke your concentration. You focused your gaze on his face, suddenly feeling oblivious to the whole scenario.

"You don't have to give it a name, or even think about it. If you really, from the bottom of you, didn't want any kind of company, don't you think you wouldn't have come the first time I asked you?"

"Are you saying this is what I want?"

"I'm saying that you're a person who's used to being alone, but you don't have to be if you don't want to be."

"You're an enigma."

James smiled. "Thank you. I think the same about you."

But it was true what he'd said, you were thinking too much. One of the things your therapist kept telling you was to try to stop living in your head. Acknowledge your surroundings, feel every sensation and take in every possible smell.

It was difficult when the reason you wanted to be in your head all the time was the same reason that all your senses were perceiving at the same time.

But you tried. You felt the wood of the table and the warmth of the coffee cup, you took in the smell of caffeine and James's perfume, a little piney and citrusy, you savoured the coffee left in your mouth from the last time you took a sip. Slowly you tried to bring yourself back to that moment, to focus on your present and, sadly, to acknowledge that you were in a coffee shop with James Barnes.

It was something you constantly shied away from. To acknowledge that you spent time with him. With him. That he deliberately chose to spend his time with you. That you, intentionally, decided to spend your time with him. With the one who started out as a stranger. A person. A friend. A…

No.

3

It had been a while since you had decided to stop closing yourself off to all the possibilities life had to offer. Sometimes you didn't recognise how you got to that point, but other times you felt something close to pride for allowing yourself to go that far. And, really, it could have been one of the best or one of the worst decisions you had ever made in your life.

You spent weeks trying to deny James coming into your life, but the moment you opened the door to him, you had only gone up.

You didn't know you missed the company of a friend on sleepless nights and confessions. You didn't know you longed for the warmth of a lover until hours passed and you couldn't tear yourself away from each other. You didn't know you wasted time denying the feeling. You didn't know that you needed to take a few days off from the exhausting work you had set for yourself. You didn't even know that the work was exhausting.

When you were able to recognise all those things, you were also able to recognise that you had been living life on the edge. You were constantly exposed to everything before you met James. Exposed to danger, to death, to loneliness. You were living too fast because you felt you had no time, that at any moment you would run out of time and you wouldn't have done enough.

And then you finally decided to give yourself a break. From everything. Absolutely everything. Everything.

You moved in with James.

Yeah, definitely.

You took turns shopping. You took turns doing the dirty dishes. You took turns cleaning the flat. It felt like perfect harmony; like suddenly everything was in its place and it seemed like nothing could go wrong from that point on.

"Wait, wait!" you exclaimed with laughter. You moved your body off the bed, the peach-coloured sheet covering your body. You tried to stretch to reach for your mobile phone on the nightstand but James' hands around your waist prevented you from moving too much.

"You can answer that when we're done," the man purred, his hands straining, but not too hard, to pull you back onto the bed.

"Hold on a moment, James Barnes," you mumbled back, when you finally reached for the mobile phone and let out a triumphant laugh.

Vanessa Lennox, you read on the screen, as you felt James cling to your back.

"It's Vanessa," you told him as you unlocked the phone to check her messages.

"Vanessa texts you all the time."

"I know."

"All the time."

"That I know."

"These nights are supposed to be for us. She's not asking you out, is she?"

"No, no, she's…"

I'm in trouble. Can you come over?

"She's all right."

I can't, but I'll write to Tommy. He told me he was watching today, he must be near where you are.

"Are you sure?" you felt James' breath on the back of your neck, as his lips began to touch the most sensitive parts of your back.

"Yes…" you replied in a whisper. "She's going to be fine."

"Then stop turning your back on me," James spoke, his breath colliding against the small of your back. You arched unconsciously. "Look at me."

You inhaled air sharply, leaving the mobile phone locked to the side of the bed. You let James's hands guide your movements until you were trapped in his arms, his chest pressed against your back.

"You're bossy sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Only you, to be honest."

"Yeah, sure you have," you smiled incredulously.

You stirred until you could stand face to face with the man you shared a bed with every night. His light eyes quickly met yours, and his hands squeezed each side of your waist.

It was getting a little chilly. There were nights when you didn't know how you could stand to be so long without clothes under those sheets. It was easier for James, the weather didn't affect him as much as it did you at the moment. You shivered as a chill ran through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. You pulled your body close to his, settling your head where his neck and shoulder met.

"Maybe the window is open," you heard him say.

"You know I always close the windows all over the flat before I go to bed."

"Okay, then we'd better figure out a way to get you warm."

As he finished speaking, the man moved, lowering himself from his position until his head was at the same level as yours. His eyes smiled at you as your teeth unconsciously flickered from the cold your body felt. His mouth also stretched into a smile, one of the many smiles you had learned to love. It was a very homely smile. The kind of smile that only you could see, that only you could see, that only you could see. It was a very domestic smile. It was the smile.

"Do you want me to get the other sheet?"

"No," you answered quickly. "I'm fine. We can proceed."

James let out a laugh. His eyes grew small from the flex of his cheeks as he laughed. You saw every flex and line of his face and it was like a balm to your mind.

It wasn't long before the man, in the midst of his smile and that feeling of ecstasy, brought his face close to yours and kissed you as if he hadn't kissed you in years.

Kissing James was like touching heaven. It was like being at peace after years of constant war. It was a great, vast, calm ocean. It was the absolute silence of tranquillity. It was like a great rest after years and years of travel. With his kisses you could begin to believe that you would never be alone again. With his kisses you didn't feel alone. With his kisses you believed it was possible to never be alone again. With his kisses you lost the fear of accepting him unconditionally in your life.

With his kisses, you lost the fear of loving him.

You loved the way he cradled the side of your face when he kissed you, every time, without fail. You loved the way he would start slow, soft, so tender, then fill you with passion and control your mouth without weariness or fatigue. You loved the way he then moved his hands all over your waist to the curve of your buttocks, as if he was admiring every millimetre of your skin through his touch. You loved the way he made love to you afterwards, sometimes so subtle and sometimes so out of control.

To have James was to have the best of everything at the same time.

"Are you getting up early tomorrow?" James asked as he pulled away from you. When you saw his eyes, his pupils were dilated and his breathing resembled yours: quickened and eager.

"No."

"Good."

He kissed you hard.

"Because you're not leaving this bed until Sunday."

4

James had begun to accept occasional missions that Fury gave him. You never agreed. No matter when or where they asked you, you would never have agreed to it. But clearly you couldn't just keep him in the flat until the idea was out of his head. You had thought about it a few times, but… no.

You tried to adjust to the fact that he wouldn't be around as much as before, but it was very difficult. It felt as if you had been given the most delicious candy in the whole world, left to treasure it, to savour it a little at a time, to get used to having it next to you, only to have it ripped away from you without warning, totally unprepared, leaving you to realise that everything was really out of your control. You didn't have the candy in your domain, you had been allowed to have the candy and then it was taken away from you.

"Try to concentrate," you heard Vanessa's voice.

You looked up to find her watching you from the roof of the building across the street. You felt a strong desire to rip the communicator from your ear and stomp it to dust with your boot. It was strange. It was a feeling of constant anger that you didn't know how to control. You were constantly angry except when James came to the flat.

"I'm focused."

"You better be," Tommy spoke up, "because my life depends on it."

"You shut your mouth and focus on not losing sight of the target."

"Vanessa, remind me why I agreed to do this."

"Because you're a great friend who supports absolutely everything we do."

Friend. At what point did you start to consider someone a friend? James was your friend. You thought you considered him that. Your partner. Your friend. James was your boyfriend.

"And you're totally unconditional to us."

A friend is unconditional. James is your friend. He's your partner. Friend. James is unconditional to you?

"I have to start working on my boundaries."

"No, our friend needs to start working on her temper. She doesn't get the required amount of sex a day and she's already starting to freak out."

You frowned.

"So you consider your friend's problems to boil down to sex alone?" you snapped at Vanessa, not avoiding the sour tone with which your words came out. You couldn't help but take it personally. Was that being an unconditional friend? Or being a friend?

"No," she replied quickly, "You know I didn't mean it that way. I was joking."

You hummed a nod, downplaying the words. Playing it all down. Because it didn't really matter, it was so silly to get angry about it. And it was very strange for you to get angry about it. You didn't even used to have relationships close enough to allow yourself to get angry about something they said about you. That was the big example of why you didn't do it.

"The target is moving. He's heading for the nest," Tommy spoke again, his serene tone bringing you back to the topic that was truly important. "Do you see him, Vanessa?"

"Got it."

"Good. Just move into the room towards… Wow, who's that? Who the hell's in there?"

"Damn," Vanessa mumbled.

"Wait a minute."

"We can't wait that long."

"I know," Tommy exclaimed, and from his exasperated tone you could imagine how he was running his hands through his hair repeatedly.

"What the hell do we do, Thomas?"

"I told you to wait!"

"We can't wait, dammit!"

"Wait."

"Thomas, I'm going to-"

"Hold on."

You peered through your binoculars. The large panes of glass surrounding the flat where the target was located didn't let you see much inside. The room the man was in was not as well lit, but you had gone in well prepared.

Finally you could see what the others were seeing. The man had entered the room he was supposed to enter, but there was another man in there with him. And, as far as you could see, they had made themselves comfortable. It didn't look like the other man was going to leave any time soon.

"Let's do it," you spoke, breaking the silence, giving voice to the only option they had that neither of the other two wanted to say.

"Are you insane?" Tommy exclaimed through his teeth.

"We don't have a choice. We declare it a red zone and end the mission."

"We don't even know who that man is," Vanessa interjected, her voice unsteady as she was unable to acknowledge that you were right, hesitating because you were running out of time.

"That's what the red zone is all about."

There was a moment of silence. You knew they were both considering it, the idea had been in their heads since the man entered the room, but their moral compass was much stronger than yours.

"He could be an innocent person," Tommy tried to justify not making that decision.

"How innocent can he be sitting there with the target?"

"And how do we know he's guilty?" Tommy exclaimed back.

"We're wasting more time discussing this," Vanessa spoke again, and you could breathe in her deep inhale before she said, "I think we should do it, Tommy."

The man cursed through his teeth.

You looked through the binoculars again, and both men were still inside the room.

You heard a beep on the communicator and then a steady static. Someone had changed the channel.

"I'm relieving myself as mission leader. You're in charge," it was Tommy.

"What?"

"I can't do this."

"Thomas…"

"I can't make this decision. Just… just do it."

You heard the beeping again and then it was Vanessa saying, "Thomas, what the hell are we going to do?"

"Vanessa, aim for the target," you ordered as you began to open the case next to you, just in case a situation like that arose.

"What?"

"This mission has been declared a red zone. We're going to proceed according to protocol."

The woman didn't speak again.

Nor did she say anything when you had climbed down from the rooftops and found yourselves in an alleyway in the middle of the buildings. You were waiting for Thomas, your guns already stowed in the van.

"He relieved himself," Vanessa spoke after a while, and though it sounded like she wanted to ask a question, it sounded like a statement.

"Yes."

Vanessa shook her head in an affirmative gesture. She didn't say anything else. She leaned against the concrete wall with a blank stare.

Your mobile phone rang inside the van.

"Is that Thomas?" your companion asked.

You moved closer to look at the device's screen.

James.

"No."

You took the mobile phone and moved away from the woman's figure, further down the alley. Your heart was racing, it was out of control. You had been waiting for that call for days. You had spent sleepless nights waiting for one measly message. You had taken hundreds of missions just so you wouldn't have to endure sleeping in a bed alone. You felt like your body had been frozen until that moment, until that call, and finally….

"James? Are you here yet?"

A woman called your name on the other end of the line.

"Bucky arrived a couple of hours ago."

Your feet stopped walking.

"And the mission went well?"

Silence.

A beeping and constant muttering was all that answered you on the line.

"Is James okay?"

"He's stable. He suffered some injuries. We lost communication with him in the last few days and we thought that…"

You couldn't quite remember when you had arrived at the old Avengers Complex. Your body moved automatically and your vision was so blurred that you had no idea how you could get through the crowd without bumping into someone. It was all very strange. You spent months convincing yourself that it would never happen again. Ever since James accepted those damn missions, you spent weeks trying to convince yourself that nothing would ever go wrong. That his kisses would always be there. His reunion kisses were the best, they were a wellspring of calm that washed away all the anxiety that consumed you alive during the days when you couldn't hear from him.

You had already made up your mind that it would never happen again. He promised you that it wouldn't happen, that you wouldn't have to relive that heartbreaking feeling one more time.

And he broke it.

You wanted to be relieved to see him. You wanted to be happy to know he was alive. Bruised, but alive. You wanted to hold him, to stay with him and never let him go again. But you just stood there in front of his stretcher. And he didn't try to make you come closer either. He saw it in your eyes, you knew it. He knew it.

Seeing him on that gurney made you angry. It aroused your anger that this man had broken the promise he sealed with so many kisses. You felt so much disappointment that your chest had become a bottomless void of a feeling of impersonality. You didn't want to be there. You didn't want to go through it. You preferred to think that you could overlook it. You should overlook it. Why didn't you overlook it? You could live in ignorance, pretend to be the perfect girlfriend. Everything could be easier for both of you, for you, if you just ignored all those feelings and took this situation as a normal person would.

But your knees gave way to your tears and crashed to the floor. From the corner of the room, you could see your body shake in uncontrollable weeping. You didn't know why it hurt so much, if he was alive. You didn't know the reason for the agonising pain, if he was there. And yet, your face contracted in incalculable pain. It was as if he had died on that stretcher. It was as if you had been called to come and acknowledge his corpse.

And you knew James knew, because he hadn't said anything since you arrived. He had done nothing but watch you.

There, from the corner of the room, you could see him crying with you.

He knew.

You knew it.

5

The mission was simple.

Infiltrate, seduce, accompany, lull, kill.

But simple doesn't always end easy.

Since James had returned to the flat, he had vowed never to go out on any mission again, under any circumstances. And, indeed, he was keeping that promise. He was spending as much time at home as before.

But you weren't.

Every time James tried to talk to you about that mission where he might have died, you went into a kind of shell where you shut yourself off from all communication and fled from that place to one where you felt more at ease. More in control.

You got so tired of running away that you decided to start investing that time in something that would actually pay off. You started accepting missions with Thomas more often than before.

You knew James was trying to understand you, he was trying as hard and as willing as he could. Sometimes you would arrive and there would be dinner for you in the fridge or in the microwave. Sometimes you'd see your clothes piled in a corner of the yard suddenly neatly folded and smelling decent. Sometimes you'd walk into the bedroom and find little presents on top of the nightstand, right next to your side of the bed.

You knew James was trying.

But you also knew he was getting tired.

Weeks passed since you first came in and he was waiting for you sitting on the couch. It was a very hectic night, with too many questions and not enough answers. Sometimes you arrived and the flat was lonely. Sometimes you arrived and there was no food. Sometimes you arrived and there was only screaming.

But it was easier that way. You'd already felt what it was like to almost lose him, you'd already experienced that overwhelming emotion that had been with you so much in the past, and you knew, beforehand, that if it happened with James, there was no way you'd get out of it alive, so it was easier this way.

So it was easier that way. He'd walk away on his own, you'd forget about him, and you wouldn't have to suffer if he ever died.

Die.

James would die one day.

But not a day when he was with you.

So yes, you did spend a lot of time away from home.

Maybe you really should have thought twice before deciding that this was the best option.

You knew you dreaded James' death, and the loneliness that followed his passing.

But you had no idea how panicked you would be at the thought of your own death, after meeting him.

Because you would forget him, and that would be fairly easy for you, but he wouldn't forget you. And he would suffer, much more than he was suffering since you didn't come home.

"What the hell happened?" you remembered hearing a voice.

You couldn't be too aware of your surroundings lately.

"It was a simple mission," you heard another male voice.

"It was supposed to go well. She was supposed to call us if things got complicated."

You remembered little of being in the hospital.

You remembered a lot of James sitting in an armchair next to your gurney.

You remembered a lot of his silence.

You also remembered when, some days, you were awakened by his cries and had to pretend to be asleep so as not to interfere with his suffering. Because, ever since that accident happened, ever since you could remember what happened after that, James had become wary of his feelings. He wasn't as expressive as he used to be. And you didn't have the slightest idea what to do.

You couldn't believe that before you could get to the point where you could tell how each other was doing just by listening to each other's breathing, and after that you couldn't even meet each other's eyes by accident.

You were two strangers again.

You were losing him. You knew it. Every day that you went without doing something, without talking to him, without showing a hint of remorse for what you'd done, was a day closer to being completely alone again.

And you didn't even show it, but it was painful. Seeing him shut down like that, seeing him lose the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at you, realising that he lost the will to try… knowing that you took away his will… it was all too much.

Really, you never thought things would get this bad.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't think they had gotten this bad, until one day you came to the flat and saw a suitcase in the room full of his clothes.

"I'm tired."

Those were the first words he'd spoken to you in days.

"And I don't have to put up with this anymore. So I'm leaving."

You knew it was going to happen, but for him to say it like that…

"You're leaving?"

James turned to look at you. His icy expression paralysed you.

"Are you still surprised?" he blurted out gruffly, and continued packing his clothes.

You just stood there in the doorframe, watching him move as fast as if he had a coal-fired engine in his chest. As if he couldn't wait for the moment when he could finally get out of there.

"Really…" he spoke suddenly, "You've really gone weeks, weeks, without speaking to me no matter how many times I've tried to talk to you, and you decide to do it now just because you're watching me leave? That's what I needed to do to get you to react?"

You didn't answer, you just watched him, your mind blank. He was angry. Irate, rather. And you knew he was absolutely right, but you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn't do anything about it because things were going your way. If James went away, if he went away hating you, he wouldn't suffer in the future when you died and you could forget him in peace. That was the best thing. The only good thing you could do for him: keep him away from you.

"Don't you think I deserve an explanation?"

Yes, you do.

"No."

"No?" he repeated incredulously. "I know I made a mistake. I made a mistake in accepting those missions. I told you, I did it countless times. And yet, all those countless times you chose to turn your back on me."

The man watched you, his eyes filled with pent-up emotions that he finally allowed to overflow.

"I tried to understand you. I really did. I gave you your space. I tried to do whatever you needed because I knew it was hard for you, but it was like… trying to water a cactus daily. Everything I did seemed to have the opposite effect."

You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry, I was overcome with fear and panic. I got carried away. Please don't go.

"You didn't even give yourself a chance to listen to me. Not once. Do you have any idea how all that made me feel?"

Yes, you must have felt very lonely. Abandoned. Despised by me. It was my fault. I shouldn't have let it all go so far.

"Do you want me to call a taxi?"

Of all the things you longed to say, that was the only thing your mind allowed to come out of your mouth.

You saw him sketch the sternest look of disbelief you'd ever seen. But you also saw pain, extreme pain at the rejection of your words.

"Are you fucking kidding me? How can you be so cynical?" James exclaimed, his face contorted in anger and helplessness. You cringed a little at the shout but didn't move away from him as he came striding towards you in long strides. "Tell me, did you even care about me? At any point in this… relationship, was anything you gave me real?"

You half-opened your lips to answer, but could not formulate the sentences you knew would comfort his heart.

Yes, absolutely everything was real, all my love and suffering was real.

James walked away, and you didn't know if it was possible that his face could look even more downcast.

Your hands were shaking with helplessness. He was still there. You could still try to save him. Why didn't you? Why? Why? Why?

"How can you be so fucking expressionless? How can you not be in pain… for this? How?"

"You're going to be fine," the words escaped your mouth before your mind could process it.

The man turned to look at you.

"You really are…" he raised his hand and gripped it tightly, swallowing his words and turning back towards the wardrobe to start throwing his things into the suitcase.

Suddenly, he let out a scream. And then a cry.

"I swear, if you'd just tell me no, I'd stay."

He looked at you. His tear-filled eyes met yours and you knew that would be an image that would haunt you to death.

"I would stay… I really would, but… I still can't believe you are so foolish. The first thing you did when you left that hospital was to go back to another mission. How could you care so little about your life? How could you care any less that I care about your life?"

I care about my life even more since you're in it. Don't go.

"It's just work," is what you replied.

"No, no, no…" James hummed with laughter, but his face lacked grace. "I'm definitely not going to stand here just watching you risk your life because you're incapable of expressing your feelings. I'm not worth being put through this."

"It's my life, James."

"But you made me part of your life! I'm here! We're supposed to share our lives together. Why is it only about you now?"

"It's supposed to be my choices…"

"But why can't I be a part of them?" James exclaimed loudly. Your mind clouded over, and even though all you wanted to do was apologise from there until the end of time, you had too much pent up anger because of that very inability to say what you truly thought.

You're right, I am unable to express my feelings. I am sorry. Don't go away.

"You're talking about my fucking life! Why do you want to be in control of all the shit I do now? Fuck you!"

"I'm not trying to control anything, goddamn it! I just need to know…"

"No! You don't need to know anything. You don't need to know anything about me. We're here and you're packing your bag. You have no right to know anything."

James let out a snort.

"We're here and you still can't talk to me. I can't believe how bloody insane you've become."

"Just go."

Don't go.

"This is bullshit."

James finished throwing all of his clothes into the suitcase. You watched his every move, every flex of his body, every grimace on his face, every flick of his hair, how his fingers clutched at the things he took, how his scowl didn't lessen one bit. You watched and watched. It was all you could do.

You leaned against the doorframe and watched him take his anger and pain out on his clothes and his suitcase. It gave you a strange kind of feeling to see him like that, something that felt mildly familiar but you couldn't put a name to it. You wanted to turn things back. If you could turn back time you would, and every single thing that went wrong you would fix.

But would you really? Did the problem really go back to when things with James started to go wrong? The problem was you. You were the problem. You couldn't talk, you could only think, you could only repress, you could only suffer. Only you, you and you. Only you because you were alone, because you had always been alone and there was no reason to believe that could change. James lied to you, that was the reason he was leaving and you had no reason to stop him. He had to go. If he didn't want to go through that, he shouldn't have lied in the first place. If he didn't want to go through that, he shouldn't have asked you out in the first place. He shouldn't have met you. He shouldn't have spent time with you. You shouldn't have stopped him.

Stop him.

You should stop him.

James closed the suitcase.

"I did too much for this relationship. I gave up too much for both of us. I gave up everything I was for this relationship. I gave up too much for you and you know it!"

You narrowed your eyes and began to approach him in rapid strides. He towered over you by several inches, and there was a time when you loved that, but now you hated that he could see you that way. He had always seen you that way. So small…

"You say that as if I forced you. I never asked you to give up your life for me!"

"Exactly, that's the damn problem! You've never asked me to do anything, I've just done all this stuff on my own trying to cope with a relationship that's become… one-sided!"

You walked away.

"Just… leave now."

Please leave before I tie you to this flat and never let you leave again.

He wanted to say something else. You knew he wanted to say something else. It was obvious he hadn't said half the things he wanted to say. But he didn't.

He took his suitcase and left.

He really left.

He walked past you, not caring that the brush of his shoulder against yours almost made you fall. He passed you and walked straight to the exit, slamming the door hard on his way out.

He was gone. He was gone. He was finally gone. He was really gone.

Now you were alone. You were alone again. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? You'd done a lot of things in the last few months to make him go away, and he was finally gone… but then why weren't you satisfied?

Why did you want to run after him? Why did you want to go and kiss him? Why did you want to stop him and beg him to forgive you?

Who did he think he was to deserve that after what he had done?

But… what had he done?

No.

What had you done?

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes

[magicalrocketships]

Honestly all of the scenes in We Used to Wait. I’ve read it….an embarrassing number of times.

But specifically the scene where Louis says “I have a new and exciting perspective on life”. It so so good.

The sheer amount of research I had to do for this fic. My absolutely-not-in-1D-at-all doctor friend came to stay and I bombarded her with questions about what the worst injuries we could give Louis could be, and how he could just keep getting sicker etc etc. It's entirely down to her that he just kept on having surgery and getting pneumonia. But yeah, this scene when Louis's still in hospital but everyone finally knows they're together, and Nick's secretly about three seconds from falling over the edge.

(We Used To Wait)

Louis just smiles at him. "We should have gone public before, you know. I could have shown off how great you were when I had more than one working limb."

"Hindsight, huh," Nick says. He sets up his Macbook on the table, moving the snacks out of the way, and loads up the film.

"You look knackered," Louis says,. "How are you doing, really?"

Nick lets out a breath. "Honestly?" he says. "I'm fucked up. But it's okay. I'm okay. I'm getting there."

He desperately wants it to be true.

He knows it isn't.

Louis bumps his hand into Nick's. "It's going to be all right, you know. I mean. I know it isn't right now. But I'm going to come home soon, and we don't have to sneak around anymore. I can just, like, go for a drink with you or go to the shops. Answer the phone when it's you and I'm around other people. Wander up to your doorstep in broad daylight."

"Sounds fancy," Nick says.

"I don't want fancy," Louis says. "I never wanted fancy."

"I know," Nick says.

"I like cock," Louis says, "and I love you. And everyone knows that now."

"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you might, you know. I thought you'd freak out."

"I've got a new and exciting perspective on life," Louis says. "Anyway, I was never ashamed of you. You didn't think I was, did you? It was just... what we were doing was fun. I loved it."

"I know," Nick says. For the past few weeks he's done nothing but associate how the two of them were before the accident with guilt and regret; they should have told their friends, they should have told their families, they shouldn't have hidden it. He'd forgotten the other side of it, the two of them being happy and falling in love, spending time together because they wanted to, because they enjoyed each other's company, because they were having fun.

"I don't care if everyone knows I'm with you," Louis says. "I care that if you were in an accident I wouldn't be able to get in to see you. No one would ring me to tell me you were hurt."

Nick has cried so much. He never wants to cry again. He hates it. He squeezes Louis's hand instead. "No chance of that now. You'd be the first one on everyone's list. I'm pretty sure that if I get a papercut at work, Finchy's going to be on the phone to you, making sure you know."

"As it should be," Louis says. "Tell him that's exactly what he should be doing."

"How are you feeling?" Nick asks, changing the subject. He just—it's so hard, all of the time. Everything's so difficult. He wants to fast forward time until Louis is home, and safe, and better, and out of bed.

"Worn out." He smiles. It looks tired at the edges. "But I'm glad you're here."

"You want anything to eat?"

Louis shakes his head. "Put the film on," he says. "And stay with me."

"All right," Nick says, and does.

#waffling on about writing #we used to wait

[iamthecomet]

And hoot again :D

Yeah, you’re very right (both with so quickly depending on it being overwhelming and with it showing how much I needed it)

The trip to therapy went quite well! The bus wasn‘t overly full on both ways, so I could sit down which was really good. I‘m still nervous for the first time that I’ll sit down on the floor if all seats are taken (it would be safer and better for me, but before I was always too scared to do that. Now that I have a cane that makes it sort of visible that I have trouble walking/standing, I want to try to do it).

I have suspected that I have hypermobile joints for a while (the problem is that I’m not in enough pain to really struggle so much that it would really be worth seeing a doctor for, but I’ll mention it when I got my next appointment). Part of the problem is my bad memory, because due to that I honestly can‘t even remember if I’m in pain (I know stuff constantly and quickly starts hurting but that’s probably normal in most cases and I also have a really high pain tolerance).

My body can do things it‘s apparently not supposed to do though

But I feel it with the cane, cause my wrist always sort of wobbles cause it’s really not stable. So I tried applying tape today, but only went to the very near grocery store that takes like a minute to walk to. So I don’t really know how much it has helped yet regarding walking with the cane. I do feel more comfortable though, and I think it‘s also helping me with writing and drawing

(On the video I watched the guy explained what the hypermobile thing in that hand he was showing it on is exactly, what it would look like if it wasn‘t hypermobile and what the tape is gonna do. And my thumb has the exact position that is a result of the joint being hypermobile (so like my suspicion doesn’t seem to be too wrong)

Since noon I had a really really bad headache that felt like my skull was split open and my brain crushed. So really not nice. I took 1,5 ibuprofen and later one paracetamol but nothing helped.

Then I tested myself cause I remembered that the only time I had such a bad headache was when I had COVID and boom! Positive

So yeah. I‘ll stay in bed tomorrow (and my head hurts so fucking much. I hate it)

I‘ll send you pics when the order gets here if you want! :D

But two pairs of Doc Martens sounds very nice!

A really sweet and funny story:

A friend of mine asked me to explain Ghost (as in, explain everything).

Three days ago I sent a video of like a few clips of Jutty, one of which being this clip in which he is like “unfollowing is bullying“ and “wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨“

And since then, we‘ve constantly been sending “wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨” back and forth (then we started to send the clip as a only one time viewable video so it wouldn’t be visible beforehand).

Today, I cut off the beginning of an edit and put that clip behind that to hide it and sent it to them. They have also hidden it in a poll on WhatsApp already

It turned into a game and we can‘t stop laughing about it because it‘s so fucking silly xD (it‘s practically like Rick-rolling)

wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨

(You just got wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨-ed. You‘re welcome xD)

~ @owlishanon

I'm glad it's still going well! It's good that it gives you so much peace of mind and that you feel confident doing what you need to do now without worrying that something awful is going to happen. But I'm so sorry that you have COVID! It's rotten. I hope you get lots of rest and your headache doesn't last too long. Sleep and drink lots of water! You can definitely send me pictures of the stuff you get when it comes in! I always love to see people's hauls! I am very excited about my docs. I paid $140 for both pairs, which is like half of one what one of them costs brand new. I feel VERY lucky about it. One pair is rusty orange suede, they're short boots. Great for every day. The other are standard black knee highs which have been my dream boots since, like, forever (I've owed many, many pairs of knee high lace-up boots, but none of them were Docs). The wHaT iF i WaS cOsMo 🧐🤨 thing has me giggling. Thank you for that. What a great joke to have with your friends, seriously. Fucking Jutty. He kills me in the best ways.

#comet comments #comet's anons #owlish #unmasked ghoul

[lord-jen-grey]

Imagine Claire never went to Craigh na Dun. Claire never travelled, she never met Jamie.

How long do you think it would take for cracks to appear in Frank and Claire’s marriage? How long before a childless Claire finds some way to occupy her time? Would she become a career driven doctor? How long before Frank seeks validation in the arms of others? Do you think Claire would eventually cheat? Divorce? Would a childless Claire cut her loses and leave Frank? Would a cheating Claire end up pregnant by a lover? Would she stay with Frank or make a life with the lover? If a childless Claire divorced Frank do you see Claire ever marrying again? What do you think would happen?

I love this question (as much as it pains me to think of my girl never meeting her boo). It really made me take a nice dive into both Claire and Frank's characters.

Who is Claire without Jamie? She's bright and passionate. Loyal. An idealist in a lot of ways. Honest and straight forward. I like to think she would have become a doctor no matter what. Her sojourn into the 18th sped that journey along as she was doing the damn thing in the most dire of situations, but I'd still like to think she would have eventually gotten there. It's just a part of who she is in her soul.

I'll get to Claire's fidelity in a minute, but Frank's the easy one here, so I'll address his first. He would totally cheat on her, and we have good reason to believe he did even before she went through the stones. Even if he was "satisfied" (whatever that means) with his marriage, I still see him cheating. A business trip, a few late nights at the office, some research/study sessions. Yeah, he'd fuck around.

And I can't imagine she would put up with his shit for long without them having a kid together. I think she'd leave him.

Which begs the question...would they adopt before it got there? Probably. They both adopted kids in canon and loved them dearly, so I think it's in their character. Would she stick around a shitty marriage for her kid? Likely.

If there was no kid in the picture, I'd like to believe she'd leave his ass. I think her idealism is too strong to cheat in that situation. She asked for a divorce in canon, and maybe without a kid, Frank would give it to her.

But with a kid? Probably no divorce, right? This question is making a 1950s affair fic sound delicious. (Don't get me started on my not-so-secret wish for Claire to fuck the daylights out of Joe. *evil laugh*)

Claire and Frank might be forward thinking enough to consider an open marriage on both sides. They almost had one in canon. Claire just didn't want to fuck anyone but Jamie then. If she never had her great love, maybe she'd want to find passion somewhere. Maybe Frank would agree if they were both discreet. He pretty much told her it was ok if she fucked someone during the war.

If we're talking purely cheating (no open marriage, no agreements between the two of them), I have a hard time seeing her do so, unless she was really drunk and really angry - maybe. She just isn't deceitful enough for an affair. She's so bad at lying, and I don't think she could keep up a charade for long, for reasons of her conscience, idealism, loyalty, her self-respect. She's a person who's meant to live her life owning who she is and who she loves openly and honestly.

I'm having some thoughts about Claire and Frank punishing each other in canon - Frank with his affairs, and Claire with her making Frank screw her after he fucked around (as Claire recalled in DOA during LJG's visit). I think Frank used Jamie as an excuse for the affairs, but that was just who he is...a goddamn cheat. And I don't really think it's who Claire was unless forced at the threat of her life.

In summary:

Yes, I think Frank would cheat

Claire would leave him if there were no kids

If there was a kid (which there would likely be) they might make an arrangement between the two of them, or she would just repeat canon and become obsessed with work. Since the child wouldn't be Jamie's, maybe she wouldn't have the distance between her an the kid without all the secrets between them.

If there was no arrangement, then I don't see her having an affair. She might cheat a time or two, but an affair isn't really in her character (unless it was a modern Jamie 👀)

This really is sounding like a tasty fucking story. Claire and Frank agree to an open marriage (not separating because of their kid), and when Claire finds a modern Jamie, shenanigans ensue! (Don't worry, I'm not going to write it atm, I have too much on my WIP list as it is.)

Thanks for the question! It was fun to knock around the brain for a wee bit.

#outlander #what if #Claire fraser #jamie fraser #frank randall