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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 month

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 10

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, show level violence

Word Count: 7,447

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry again that this chapter got postponed a day. But here is the conclusion of the series. (Except for the epilogue coming next Saturday - or maybe a little earlier. 😉) I've absolutely loved writing this series. Loved living in the Endverse for a while, so thank you so much to everyone who came along with me. And an extra, super-duper thank you to everyone who commented and reblogged their thoughts about the story as we went along. Kind words fuel authors. ❤️ And oh yeah, this chapter's a bit long. Sorry! 😊

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The dividers below were created by @saradika

Y/N didn’t want to look away, she wanted to keep her eyes on Dean. But the white light was absolutely blinding and she eventually had no choice but to turn away from it. The rush of white noise was almost deafening before becoming suddenly silent.

There was only darkness behind her eyelids now so Y/N opened her eyes and stood up straight, looking at Dean where he still stood, halfway between her and Zachariah. His back was to her and she took a step towards him.

“Dean?” She questioned quietly.

He turned slightly so he could see her over his shoulder. He peered at her for a moment, almost scientifically, before he gave his head a brief shake.

“No.”

Y/N would never be able to explain it, but somehow it was Dean’s face, Dean's voice, and yet it wasn’t him. Something was missing from his sparkling, jewel green eyes.

This was Michael. Dean was gone.

Without a moment’s pause, the archangel strode towards the other angels and in the span of a breath they were all gone, leaving behind only the sound of fluttering wings.

Y/N stood stock still, staring at the empty, open field where Dean had stood less than a minute before. Around her chaos began to spread. The people who’d been putting out the fire were rushing towards them now, trying to find out what was going on. Screams echoed as people saw Johnston lying dead on the ground.

Everyone was asking her questions, but she had no answers, she had no words. She just stood, as people rushed around her, feeling as though she’d wake up at any moment. She’d wake up and Dean’s arms would be around her and when he woke she’d tell him about the horrible dream and how scary it had been and he’d hold her gently and tell her it was all just a nightmare.

“...I have my arms wrapped tightly around you and we’re both safe…Close your eyes and stay there, in that moment.”

Dean’s soft words whispered their way into her mind and she shivered. This couldn’t be happening.

Without warning her knees buckled and she fell to the muddy, wet ground, her muscles simply going limp. She covered her face as more tears began to fall. She felt the weight of all her tears gathering in her chest, threatening to crush her, when suddenly she heard Risa calling her name.

When she looked up the soldier was standing over her, still holding Emma in her arms.

“Y/N, you can’t. You just can’t right now. Emma needs you, and I’ve got to… “ She waved an arm towards the people who were panicking all around them.

Y/N felt her mind rebelling, all she wanted was to sit there in the mud and let the cool night air numb her to the all-consuming ache spreading throughout her body.

But she looked up into Emma’s little, terrified face, and forced herself to really hear the horror and confusion all around her; she knew she couldn’t just fall apart.

She nodded at Risa and pushed herself to her feet. She took Emma from her and the other woman gave her a nod and moved into action, working with Cas and her fellow soldiers to start organizing the chaos, trying to get campers back to their tents. They also started debating how best to deal with the burnt out cabin and Johnston’s lifeless body

For her part, Y/N simply turned away from the cacophony and walked slowly back to the red tent. Emma was sobbing on her shoulder and Y/N gathered every ounce of her exhausted strength to try and console her little girl.

When they reached the tent Y/N set Emma down on her cot and wrapped a warm blanket around her while she went to light the stove and warm up the tent. After standing out in the cool night air for so long with no jackets, getting them warm was the first order of business.

Before long the little stove was chugging out ample heat, and she went back over to Emma and snuggled her daughter into her lap. After a while the little girl’s tears subsided into deep, shuddering breaths. Her voice was tiny and quiet when she spoke.

“Dean is gone.”

Y/N felt the whispered words pierce her heart. “Yeah, baby.”

“Will he come back?”

“Yes.” Y/N said it without thinking, her soul making the decision. But she didn’t want to lie to her child either, so she amended her comment. “I’m sure he’s going to try really hard to come back.”

Emma seemed to accept that and was quiet for a little while. Then she spoke again, her soft words tinged with fear.

“Did the bad man kill Eric?”

Y/N squeezed her tighter and nodded against the top of her head. “Yes, baby, because he’s a very bad man.”

“Will he come back to kill us?”

Y/N felt her stomach plummet with fear and heartbreak that her daughter’s mind was so clouded with terror.

Y/N shook her head. “No, baby. He won’t come back now.” She hoped she wasn’t lying.

“Because Dean saved us?”

Y/N felt as though her heart was being crushed. “Yeah, sweet pea, because Dean saved us.”

***

The next few days passed in a haze for Y/N. She was trying desperately to keep it together for Emma’s sake. Her daughter was having nightmares every night and the last thing she needed was her mother crumbling on her. But Y/N was barely sleeping, no more than a couple of hours a night. Every ounce of her being felt exhausted - worn out beyond measure.

There were no classes to teach, thank goodness; the camp was still disorganized and a bit scattered. A dozen or so campers had left, afraid of more angel retaliation. The campers left behind were trying to salvage what they could from the big cabin, and deal with the rest of the burnt out building.

Three days after Dean had gone, Cas came to their tent in the evening, carrying extra wood and asking Y/N if she needed anything.

“No, Cas, we’re good. You don’t have to worry about us.” She said with a forced smile.

“I told Dean I would take care of you.” He said with conviction. “It’s still cold at night, hence the wood. What else do you need?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, Cas. Really.”

He lifted his chin towards Emma who was sleeping on her cot. “How is she?”

Y/N gave a small shrug. “She's trying to cope, like all of us.”

He nodded and then headed out. As he lifted the tent flap, Y/N called him back. When he turned his bright blue gaze on her she hesitated before asking the question that wouldn't leave her mind.

“Can we get him back? Somehow?”

Cas stared at her intensely for a moment before his eyes softened slightly; his deep voice was gentle as he spoke.

“We can hope.”

Y/N closed her eyes. “Yes. Hope.”

When she opened her eyes again, the angel was gone.

***

A week after Dean left they still hadn't figured out any way to get him back, or even how to find him. Cas had begun to hear angel radio again, but the angels were being very quiet. Just the odd remark here and there that made Cas believe that they were still in Kansas, but he couldn't be sure.

The camp had gone back to functioning - mostly. But people kept saying things like, “We’ll run it by the Boss and see what he says.” before realizing that was impossible. The soldiers were trying to run things smoothly between them, and Brandy was helping to keep things as organized as possible.

But Dean was very missed.

A full eight days after losing him, Y/N sat up at the table one night, desperately trying to think up a way to get Dean back to her. Her eyes were scratchy and red-rimmed as she let her head fall into her hands.

She may have fallen asleep right there if there hadn't been a sudden burst of white light. It lit up the tent, blinding her. As it faded slightly, she could just make out a man's shape. Her heart leapt for a moment before realizing this man was much too small to be Dean.

A deep booming voice spoke and shook the ground around them.

“Hail, thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. Fear not, Y/N: for thou hast - Ow! Son of a bitch!”

The angel cut off his proclamation and held up his hands as Y/N smacked him repeatedly with a broom. The last of his angelic light went out like a candle and he grabbed the broom away from Y/N and snapped it with incredible ease.

“What the hell, lady?” He rubbed the side of his head where she'd walloped him. “You know that worked great with Mary. SHE knew how to be ‘sore afraid’.”

Y/N went to Emma's cot where her daughter was crying silently, obviously horrified to see another angel, inside their tent this time.

“Get out!” Y/N said with as much strength as she could muster.

“You really don't want that, trust me.” The angel said, his hazel eyes twinkling, a smirk on his thin lips.

“Who are you; what do you want?”

He gave a little bow. “Name’s Gabriel, but I prefer Loki.”

The tent flap opened and suddenly Cas was there with Risa and Patrick flanking him. But Cas pulled up short when he saw the other angel.

“Gabriel?”

“Hey, bro!” Gabriel said cheerfully.

Cas looked to the two soldiers on either side of him. “I'm fine here. You should patrol the area. Look for anything amiss or out of place. But don't approach it without me.”

Both soldiers gave a curt nod and left.

Cas came fully into the tent and his face was very wary. “Gabriel, what are you doing here? Where have you been for the last thousand Millenia or so? Most of us thought you were dead.”

“Nope.” Gabriel's voice was still nonchalant and cheery. “Just in a sort of witness relocation. Got sick to death of Daddy's beefs and Lucifer and Michael's petty squabbling. So, I took a little time off. Sailed around, saw the world, got myself a brand new face.”

He framed his face with his two hands. “Cute, right?”

Cas just frowned at him and Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You have never known how to have fun Castiel.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Well, these humans are under my protection, so I'll save the fun until after you tell me what you're doing here.”

Gabriel lost his smirk and he crossed his arms. “Isn't it obvious? I'm here to save the day, as always.”

Cas scoffed. “Not likely. You tend to sew chaos.”

Gabriel shrugged. “What can I say, it's a talent.” He moved back to lean against the table.

“But seriously, I'm so over this apocalypse. As soon as Lucy dumped his little virus on this world, I was outta here. No fun to be had with a bunch of humans barely clinging to life. So, I traveled near and far, all over the galaxy and a little bit further. It's been sort of fun. But let me tell you, there are only so many green-skinned, six-legged chicks you can bang before you start pining for home, you know?”

He gave his head a shake. “Don't know how Captain Kirk did it.”

“Get to the point, brother.” Cas said, annoyance lacing his tone.

“I'm here to help.”

“So you said. How?” Cas asked harshly.

Gabriel shrugged again. “I have a way to shove Lucifer and Michael into the cage.”

From his pocket he pulled out an oddly shaped object. It was an X made up of four circles, four rings, by the looks of it.

He held it up. “Borrowed these from the horsemen. Well,” he shrugged, “to be fair, only Death was willing to part with his, the others didn't wanna give ‘em up easily. But, you know, archangel trumps most. I was glad Death was so cooperative though, he woulda been a tough one to beat.”

Cas stepped up to him and held out his hand. Gabriel dropped the cross into it and Cas peered at it closely.

“The horsemen’s rings. What will this do?”

Gabriel's voice was quiet. “Keys to the cage, brother.”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Lucifer’s cage?”

Gabriel nodded. “And Michael’s too.” He paused for a beat. “And mine.”

Cas frowned. “Yours? Why would you throw yourself into the cage?”

Gabriel shrugged, but Y/N could see a flicker of some deep emotion pass over his mobile features.

“Someone’s gotta pull those two down there. And I’d say after millions of years, and untold damage to the world, me and my brothers could use some time alone and family therapy.”

He allowed a smile to turn up the corner of his mouth.”From what I understand old Raffy’s taken up as a god on some distant planet. He always did like to be worshiped.” He shrugged again, his smirk firmly back in place. “So, it’s just the three of us.”

Cas shook his head. “Why are you doing all of this, Gabriel?”

The archangel took back the key to the cage and slipped it into his pocket. “Told ya, got sick of banging green chicks on Mars.”

“No. That's…there are no green women on Mars.” Cas said, looking at Y/N as though to reassure her.

Y/N stood up and walked the few steps to where Gabriel stood, looking him straight in the eye. “Can you bring Dean back?”

Gabriel contemplated her for a moment and then shook his head. “No.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch, and she opened her mouth to shout at him, but Gabriel held up a hand, patting his pocket with the other. “With this I can open the cage, and I can pull my brothers down with me to be locked away. But if you want Dean back, you’ve gotta get him to toss Michael first. Otherwise, his body and soul come down too.”

Y/N began to panic. “What are you talking about? You are not dragging Dean down to hell, no matter what!” She shouted, her fists balled. “I will not let you.”

Gabriel’s smile looked genuine for the first time as he looked at Y/N fuming in front of him before turning to Cas. “She’s feisty! Dean knows how to pick ‘em!”

He looked back at Y/N and held both his hands up in surrender. “Look, I can’t extract Michael from Dean’s body, it doesn’t work that way; Dean has to be the one to throw him out. And there’s nothing I could say to give him that kind of strength.” He tilted his head slightly. “But you might be able to. You’re our best shot.”

He looked to Cas. “If she can get Dean to toss Michael, I’ll grab on to him. I’ll be able to hold him for a little while. Hopefully long enough to get to Lucifer and try to get Sam Winchester to eject him.”

He shook his head. “That one’s gonna be a lot harder, and I’m not gonna lie, I don’t hold out very much hope. I also don’t know what kind of shape Sam’s gonna be in even if he can get him out. He’s held Lucifer for five years now, he might be too far gone.”

Cas nodded. “If we can get Dean, he can get Sam. Or, he’ll be the best chance anyway. And if Sam manages to eject Lucifer, Dean won’t care what condition he’s in, he’ll fix him.”

Gabriel gave a nod. “We’ll see, I suppose. But we gotta start with Dean so…” He looked at Y/N. “What do you say, beautiful?”

Y/N contemplated him for a moment before looking at Cas. “Do you trust him?”

Cas was quiet for a long time, looking Gabriel over, the debate clear in his expression.

The archangel rolled his eyes. “Thanks, bro.”

Finally Cas nodded. “Yes, I believe we can trust him.”

Y/N took a deep breath, hope and fear spreading throughout her body in equal measure. “Okay, then let’s go save the Winchesters.”

***

Their traveling party was prepared and ready to go in very little time, most of which was spent explaining to Emma why she couldn’t come.

Y/N knew how terrified her little girl must be, thinking she was losing her mother now too. Eventually though, her tears subsided and her little face became resolved to what was happening. It broke Y/N’s heart to see that resolve, to know that her daughter’s soft heart was getting tougher.

Y/N swore to herself that she was going to bring Dean home, and they would live happily ever after, spoiling Emma and letting her go soft once again.

Before they left, Y/N gave Monique a hug and thanked her again. She’d pulled her friend aside earlier and spoken quietly with her, asking her to take care of Emma if anything should happen to her. Tears had welled up in Monique’s beautiful amber eyes but she’d clasped Y/N’s hands tightly.

“I will always look after Emma as my very own.” She shook her head and dashed away her tears. “But you’ll be back in no time, I’m sure. So, I’ll see you soon.”

The soldiers, Brandy and Monique had all checked privately with Y/N about whether or not she was really okay to set off with two angels. Y/N reassured them that she trusted Cas completely and he trusted Gabriel. So she did too. Besides, she’d reasoned, if this was their only possibility to save Dean, she had to take it.

Gabriel said he knew just where Michael was staying, so she held Cas’ hand as the archangel tapped his brother’s shoulder and in a blink they were suddenly standing just outside a rundown Victorian house.

The springtime sun was just beginning to lighten the sky in the East as they popped into existence on the sidewalk outside the house.

She hadn’t even had time to wave goodbye.

The three of them walked slowly up the front stairs and through the door. As they entered the house they heard a voice call from the back.

“The polite thing to do would have been to call first, you know.”

Y/N felt her heart leap. She recognized Dean’s voice, but it sounded different. The consonants were more clipped, the words more even in tone, almost bland, bored. His voice had none of Dean’s rough, expressive way of speaking.

The dissonance continued as they walked into the sitting room and found Dean. He held himself ramrod straight, and when he turned towards them, his face held none of Dean’s stony anger, or joyful exuberance. It too was bland, cold, his normally shining, emerald eyes looked almost empty.

Looking at this version of Dean was very difficult. Somehow being in front of this non-Dean made Y/N miss him even more.

But he never spared her a glance. All his attention was on his brothers. “Castiel, it’s been a long time. And Gabriel,” he looked him up and down, “it’s been even longer. Millions of years, in fact. I almost didn’t recognize you in this vessel.”

“Yeah, got this one custom made by a good friend of mine.” He ran a hand across his chest. “I’ve grown quite fond of my earthly form, so I’m happy I don’t have to share it with a human, and I don’t ever have to turn into a bright white mist, cause there's no human inside to reject me. This beautiful face is mine all mine.”

He smiled wide, but Michael just frowned. “That’s sacrilege, brother. Our angelic form is greater than any human disguise.”

Gabriel shrugged. “But they sure come in handy don’t they. If you wanna get anything done on earth, they really are a necessity.” He raised a hand towards him. “Hence all your trouble to get this one.”

Gabriel's tone became grandiose and overwrought. “For here is your sword, your one true vessel. Destined for eons to be the one human whose bones you were the most eager to jump.”

Michael stared at him soundlessly for a moment and then spoke in the same even, emotionless tone. “Why are you here, Gabriel? And why have you brought this human?” He pointed at Y/N, but still didn’t look at her.

Gabriel paused a beat before answering. “Well, we have a bone to pick with you.”

That was the signal to spur Cas into action. A white light shot out from Gabriel’s hands, connecting him to Michael. As the two archangels fought, Michael trying desperately to break the hold Gabriel had on him, Cas ran in front of him, drawing a straight line from wall to wall in holy oil and then dropping a lit match, trapping Michael behind the line of flame.

Gabriel let his brother go, grunting with effort as the connection broke. Michael’s borrowed face was no longer emotionless, it was furious and bubbling with hate.

“How dare you!” He shouted at Gabriel. “How dare you try to interfere with my destiny. This fight has been postponed for five long years while Lucifer ran amok. It is my duty to fight him and end him!”

Gabriel was scowling at his big brother a moment before a wide grin spread across his face. “You said doody.”

Everyone paused to look at him askance, and he shrugged. “What? That’s funny! Nobody has a sense of humor these days.”

He shook his finger at Michael. “You know who would have laughed at that, the man you’re possessing. He would have thought it was hilarious. Or at least, he would have before the apocalypse struck. Been a bit down in the mouth since Lucifer possessed his brother and ended the world.”

Michael was still livid and he spoke through gritted teeth. “We tried to tell Dean that I needed my sword, that I needed my vessel to fight Lucifer, but he wouldn’t listen. He brought this on humanity.”

“Bullshit!” Gabriel called out and all traces of his humor were gone. “You could have used another vessel, you could have made due as Lucifer did before Sam. But no, you wanted THIS vessel.” He pointed at Dean. “And you were pissed you couldn’t have him, so you threw a hissy fit and left the world to burn.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Gabriel spoke again, quiet now. “And I left with you. I cashed in my chips and walked away from the table. But I kept an eye on humanity while I was galivanting around the universe. Kind of an old habit, and what I saw shocked me. The world was over, civilization destroyed, and yet - on they all trudged. These people. These humans. They kept on fighting. These flawed broken toys we all mocked and looked down on, they fought, they loved, they helped each other, they won and lost, but no matter what, they just kept going.”

Michael was motionless as Gabriel continued, pointing towards Y/N. “And just as there was a possibility of hope, just as they found a way they might be able to win, might be able to restart the world, here you come again, army in tow, ready to level the planet all over. And for what? So you can fight some ancient grudge match with our brother?” He shook his head. “What is the bloody point?”

Dean’s jaw ticked with Michael’s annoyance. “It’s my destiny. It’s what I was created to do.”

Gabriel looked sad as he glanced over at Y/N. “Well, not if she can help it.”

Y/N knew this was her time, it was on her now to help Dean find strength enough to eject the possessing angel. Michael’s cold eyes looked at her through Dean’s sparkling jade and she closed her own for a moment, imagining the warmth in Dean’s expression before she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“Dean, can you hear me? I need you to listen, I need you to trust me. Throw him out. I’ll be safe, Emma and I will both be safe now. But I need you to come back home.”

“Dean isn’t available at the moment.” Michael said darkly. But she could see him squinting, almost as though he was in pain and Y/N chose to believe that Dean was fighting him from the inside.

She kept talking as though Michael hadn't spoken.

“I have so many plans for us. Once we’ve made the cure possible, and the world is able to begin again, I really want us to go back home, back to Chitaqua. I wanna build a cabin there. Nothing fancy, you know, just something a bit bigger than the tent, but still cozy - with a bedroom door that locks.” She finished with a wide grin.

She stepped a little closer to him, careful to avoid the flame. “And, of course, I think we’re gonna have to get Emma that dog she asked for. And we can celebrate birthdays and holidays with all of our friends and family. We’ll keep them all close, and safe.”

Michael was stepping back from her, looking away and shaking his head as though he was dizzy.

“Dean, I love you so much. All I want is to spend my life with you. Please kick him out. I know how strong you are, I know you can do it.”

“I’ll kill her!” Michael screamed out suddenly, as though his inner thoughts weren’t loud enough for Dean to hear. “You understand me? If you want her to live, want to keep her safe, stop fighting me. Now!”

Michael was breathing hard, but a joyless smile was spreading across Dean's beautiful face; the archangel was obviously pleased.

“That's better.” He whispered, still slightly out of breath.

They were losing Dean, she could see it. Michael was terrorizing him again with threats against her. So, acting purely on instinct, Y/N made one last attempt, one huge Hail Mary.

She took a deep breath and leapt over the fire, throwing her arms around Dean’s neck. She pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him with every ounce of love and passion she could muster.

She put everything into the kiss, every moment she’d loved him, and every promise she was making him were all there, tied up with all the hope in her heart.

She felt a tingling against her lips that started to burn as she pulled away. She jumped back and fell to the ground as Dean let out a roar, and his mouth opened wide. The blinding white light that had consumed him was being forced back out of him, in an incredible light show that ended abruptly as Gabriel reached out and pulled the light into himself.

The darkness was complete for a moment before Y/N’s eyes could adjust. As the world came into focus, she could see Gabriel on the other side of the flame, breathing hard and fast. Cas walked to his side and poured some of his own white light into Gabriel, which seemed to stabilize him slightly.

But his voice was still wobbly when he spoke. “We gotta go. I don’t know how long I can hold him in here with me.”

Y/N nodded and crawled over to where Dean had fallen to the floor. She turned his face towards her just as his eyes fluttered open.

“Y/N?” He whispered and she nodded at him with tears flowing.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m safe. We’re all safe.”

Dean shook his head. “But how…” He sat up slowly and looked towards where Cas and Gabriel stood. He squinted and shook his head in confusion. “The Trickster’s an angel?”

Cas’ eyes widened as he looked at Gabriel. “You were the Trickster the boys went up against? Twice?”

Dean’s voice was slightly annoyed. “Yeah, he killed me like a million times.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch, but Gabriel just waved it away as nothing. “I was trying to teach you boys something; wasn’t my finest moment maybe, but you gotta admit, the tacos were funny.”

“Not to me, asshole.” Dean grumbled. Y/N was very confused and about to ask for clarification when Gabriel bent double.

“Ugh!” He groaned. “Okay, could you postpone my spanking for that very hilarious prank until after I’ve saved you all?”

Y/N nodded and helped Dean to his feet. Gabriel looked at him. “Okay, pal, this one’s on you. We’re gonna go get Lucifer so I can toss all of us into the cage. We can try to get Sam to chuck him first. We’ll need you for that. But if you can’t get him, and it seems like Lucifer might get away, I’ll grab Sam as is and jump into the cage.”

Dean stormed up to him. “You are not taking my brother to hell, you understand me?”

Gabriel just shrugged. “Then I guess you better reach him before it’s too late.”

He groaned again as he fought his brother internally, closing his eyes and putting a hand to his head. Without saying any more, they all got into position so Gabriel could zap them to Lucifer’s location.

Just before he could manage it however, there was a bellow of rage from behind them, making them all turn. From the doorway, Zachariah charged forward, angel blade bared and aimed for Dean’s jugular.

Dean shoved Y/N out of the way as the angel charged them like a bull. But when he was just a couple feet from Dean, Cas stuck his foot out, sending the furious angel spilling to the ground in a comical looking pratfall.

He fell onto the still burning holy fire and screamed in pain, rolling around, trying to escape the flames. Before he could pull himself free, however, Dean grabbed onto the silver blade the angel had dropped. He raised it high, and then plunged it deep into his throat, forever freezing the angel's sadistic face in agony.

More blinding white lights burst out of the dying angel, forcing Y/N to once again cover her head and shield her eyes. When she reopened them, she could see the angel’s blackened wings, as his empty vessel was slowly consumed in the flame.

Dean stood up and then helped Y/N to her feet. After giving her a once over to determine she was alright, he turned to Cas.

“Nice job, buddy. Very Keystone Cops.”

Cas frowned. “I don’t know an officer by that name.”

Dean just smiled and then slipped the blade into his pocket as he looked down at the dead angel.

“Good riddance.” He said under his breath before a panting Gabriel yanked him back into position and zapped them all away.

Suddenly, in another heartbeat, they were all standing in a bombed out street; the buildings around them were crumbling and burnt. It was all that was left after some of the original fighting between the army and the Croats five years before. The bombings hadn’t worked.

As they stood looking around, a man caught their eye. He was strolling out of one of the buildings less than twenty feet away; he was very tall and had long brown hair and an easy stride.

Y/N could hear Dean gasp slightly beside her and she took his hand. The man, who could only be Lucifer, slowed down as he approached them. His smile was soft and patronizing.

“Well, well. This is a surprise. What a merry little band of rebels you’ve all turned into.”

He nodded at Gabriel. “Our brothers and sisters all thought you must have been killed somewhere, but I knew better.” He studied him for a minute before smirking. “And I see he got hold of you, Mikey!” He said loudly. He chuckled. “He always was a cuck.”

He frowned slightly as he spared barely a glance for the rest of them. “But Gabe, buddy if you’re here to try and put me back in that cage?” He raised his hand and closed it into a fist and Gabriel began coughing as though he was choking. “Well, that simply isn’t going to happen.”

Cas ran forward to help, but Lucifer tossed him aside with a sweep of his hand. Dean pushed Y/N to crouch behind an upside down car. “Stay here.” He warned, before turning back towards his brother.

“Sammy?” He called tentatively. Lucifer looked over at him and dropped Gabriel to the ground as he let him go. He faced Dean and shook his head.

“You.” The devil said, his voice menacing. “You have no idea how sick I am of you. Do you know how many times I’ve had to listen to Sammy bellyaching about how he was letting you down? Do you know how ANNOYING it is to execute a perfect reign of terror just to have this boy,” he banged his chest, “weeping in my head instead of truly reveling in it with me?”

He shook his head. “It’s only been quiet in here since I threatened to find you and end you. See that’s how I got Sammy’s cooperation in the first place. I promised that if he said yes I wouldn’t snap your neck like kindling.”

He waved towards Dean dismissively. “You were sound asleep at the time, you wouldn’t remember this. But Sam finally said yes, as I always knew he would, and in return I promised that you could keep on living. So when Sam wouldn’t shut up and stop whining, a simple threat to revoke our original deal was enough to silence him.”

He smiled, and Y/N thought it was pure sin for such a sweet, dimpled smile to sit on the face of evil. Lucifer tilted his head slightly as though he was listening to something.

“But now…hey Sammy.” He said in a silky tone. “Been quiet so long, I'd actually started to miss you.”

Dean took a step closer. “Sammy, can you hear me? I’m here. I’m here and I’m so sorry, more than I can ever say. I never should’ve walked away from you. We should have fought these assholes together. I should have known that we’re stronger together than apart.”

He swallowed. “But you’ve gotta chuck him. We’ve got a plan, little brother, we can win. Believe me.”

Lucifer rolled Sam’s bright, hazel eyes just before he slammed his fist into Dean’s face, almost knocking him to the ground.

Gabriel shot light at his brother, but it was much weaker than what he’d thrown at Michael; so much of his strength was being used to keep Michael locked inside himself. Cas added his strength, but Lucifer quickly pushed them both away, severing their hold on him.

Blood gushed from Dean’s lip, his jaw already swollen and purple, as he started forward again.

“Sammy, I need you to force him out. I know how strong you are. I know you can do it. I never should have doubted it, never should have believed they could defeat us. We are Winchesters and we never-”

He broke off as Lucifer landed two more swift blows to his face, causing a sickening crack as Dean’s nose shattered and he crashed to the ground.

Y/N gasped and jumped up, running forward even though there was nothing she could possibly do. Gabriel and Cas fought him again, forcing Lucifer to stumble back slightly. But he found his footing quickly and severed the hold as he had before, this time sending both angels sailing through the air.

Lucifer stared at Dean, hatred spreading across Sam's handsome features. "I am done with you." He shouted. "You are not worth my time."

Looking as though it was a struggle, as though the body he was possessing was fighting back, Lucifer raised his arm, his fingers poised to snap. Y/N screamed, memories bursting in her mind of the swiftness with which Zachariah had ended Johnston’s life with a mere snap.

But before he could manage it, Lucifer once again stumbled backwards. This time, however, Cas and Gabriel had barely risen from the ground and were just walking back towards them.

Lucifer dropped his arm and fell suddenly to his knees. “No.” He whispered, shock suffusing the word, and then he screamed. “No!” The ground shook and rumbled, knocking all of them down.

Suddenly a burst of white light erupted from Sam’s mouth, and as he had before, Gabriel reached forward with his own light to trap his brother.

The light suffused the archangel-turned-Trickster; it was no longer being wholly contained within himself, but spilling out of him as he tried to hold on to all of their angelic forms within his one custom-made vessel.

Jerkily he reached into his pocket and threw the key at Cas. “Now, brother!”

Cas tossed it to the ground and began chanting. As the chant ended, a wide hole began to crack open in the street.

Gabriel pitched forward towards the hole, but his body seemed to be disobeying his commands - his brothers were fighting against him with all their strength. The light emanating from Gabriel seemed to be splitting, as though the other two archangels were separating from him.

With one last surge of strength, Gabriel leapt forward and dove headfirst into the hole in front of him. There were deafening sounds of furious screaming that were quickly swallowed up as the ground closed around them.

There was only silence for a long time, as they all struggled to get their bearings, to reconcile what had just happened.

Y/N was the first to move, running to Dean just as he stood up, and then collapsing in his arms. Dean held her tightly, kissing the top of her head and then cupping her cheeks to kiss her mouth, hard and fast. He pulled away and smiled.

Cas stepped forward to tap his fingers to Dean's forehead, instantly clearing the blood and bruises.

Dean nodded and smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks, Cas.”

He looked back at Y/N and his beautiful eyes and mobile, expressive face were once again his own and Y/N rejoiced.

Dean turned them both to face Sam where he still knelt on the ground. With a quick squeeze, Dean stepped away from her to reach out a hand to his little brother.

Sam hesitated only a moment before he took it and let Dean pull him to his feet. The two men stared at each other for a minute before Dean yanked Sam towards him to wrap the taller man up in a bear hug, his arms wrapping over Sam’s shoulders and clinging tightly.

Sam’s face crumpled slightly and he crushed his brother’s ribs as he hugged him back. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t…” He trailed off, but Dean was shaking his head.

“No, Sam, no.” He pulled back to clap his hand against the side of Sam’s neck. “This isn’t on you.” Sam gave him a look and Dean shook his head. “Well, it’s certainly not all on you. We both fucked up, but we have a chance to fix things now.”

He turned back to Y/N and held his arm out towards her. She stepped forward to take his hand. Dean was beaming as he made the introductions.

“Sam, Y/N, Y/N, Sam.” Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean grinned. “Meet my wife.”

Sam’s eyes widened and Y/N gasped. “What?” She squeaked.

Dean shrugged. “Well okay, maybe there’s still the formalities to go through, like the wedding ceremony.”

“And a proposal!” Y/N said, laughing from sheer joy, utter exhaustion and the madness of their new reality.

Dean grinned at her. “You saying you don’t wanna?”

Y/N beamed up at him. “Definitely not saying that.”

Cas interrupted. “Before you start planning the wedding, can we go home?”

Sam looked dazed and spoke softly as though trying to decide if it was all just a dream. “Where is home?”

Dean clapped him on the back. “Camp Chitaqua. You’re gonna love it, Sammy! Trust me. It’s paradise.”

“With outhouses.” Y/N said with a snort.

Sam’s smile was soft, and it suited his kind, handsome face much more than it had ever fit the devil.

“Sounds perfect. Let’s go home.”

Cas stepped forward and in a blink they were back in the field where the spring vegetables were just sprouting - where they could hear the voices of their friends and neighbors, and smell the thick scent of pine and new earth.

There was a cry of shock as the campers saw them all suddenly standing there. Shouts conveyed the message quickly throughout the camp and everyone came running to see their return.

Y/N let out a cry of happiness as she saw Emma racing towards her, her little legs eating up the distance surprisingly fast. As she reached them, Dean scooped her up and pulled Y/N into the circle of his embrace so that the three of them hugged each other tightly.

The rest of the day was spent celebrating and rejoicing, hours of storytelling, and off-key singing around campfires, food shared and enjoyed by everyone.

Eventually, Dean, Y/N and Emma broke away to bring Sam to Dean’s old tent. They lit a lamp and Dean gave Sam the grand tour, pointing the way to the outhouses from there, and assuring him the cot was more comfortable than it looked.

Sam nodded, still looking as though he couldn’t take it all in. Seeing his confusion, Y/N kissed Dean on the cheek and picked up Emma’s hand.

“You boys have so much to catch up on. You should take some time together.”

Sam shook his head. “No, you’ve been away from each other long enough. This reunion should be yours.” He said, nodding at Y/N and Dean. Throughout the day he’d been caught up on how everything went down with Michael and Zachariah.

But Y/N shook her head. “We’ve been apart a week, you’ve been apart for years. You need this time.”

Dean looked down at her, love shining in his gaze, before tossing his brother a smile. “Don’t bother arguing, Sammy, she always wins.”

He bent down and kissed Y/N deeply, making Emma curl her lip.

“Ew.” She said succinctly, and Y/N laughed as she pulled out of the kiss.

She looked at Sam and then moved in for a hug. Sam hugged her back and she beamed up at him.

“I'm so glad to know you, Sam Winchester. Welcome home.”

With that she pulled Emma out of the tent to let the brothers get to know each other again.

Hours and hours later, the camp was finally quiet. A lamp glowed here and there as people slowly settled into their tents for the night. A happy peace settled over the camp, blanketing it in coziness and calm.

Y/N had sung Emma to sleep an hour before and was now stretched out on her own cot. She was planning on waiting for Dean to come back from visiting with his brother. But almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, her absolute exhaustion hit her and she was out immediately.

She woke with a start some time later, and then sighed deeply as she felt Dean’s arms tighten around her. Across the room she could hear Emma’s soft snores and her eyes filled with tears as the reality hit her anew that they were all truly together again, safe and sound. She turned in Dean’s arms so she could face him.

“Dean.” She whispered.

He smiled a sleepy smile and kissed her softly. “You were sleeping so soundly when I got home, I didn’t want to disturb you.” He whispered back, voice craggy with sleep.

“How is Sam?” She asked.

Dean sighed. “He’s okay. Gonna take time for him to be a hundred percent, you know. But he’s here, and he’s smiling, and he’s...Sammy.” He shrugged slightly. “So, that’s enough for now.”

Y/N nodded and wiped away a tear, finally making Dean notice them in the dark. His voice sounded slightly worried as he cupped her cheek and thumbed away the wetness. “Sweetheart, you're crying. Why?”

Y/N shook her head. “Because all my hopes and dreams have come true. We’re together, we’re safe, the camp is safe, the devil’s gone, and we actually have a real chance of remaking the world.”

Dean’s voice voice was a bit choked up too as he responded, grinning. “Yeah, but I don't plan on forgetting that promise you made me. When the world is fixed, we’re coming back here to live out our days in a big log cabin with locking doors and indoor plumbing, right?”

Y/N giggled. “I’m not sure about the indoor plumbing, but everything else is definitely in the cards, I hope.”

Dean pulled her close and tucked her head beneath his chin. “Well, we’re in the business of hope, so I think our chances are good.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#dean winchster #endverse!dean #endverse!dean fan fic #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #endverse!fan fic series #endverse #the dangers of hope #chapter 10

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mynameismckenziemae · 5 months

Text

She’s a Fire-Chapter XV

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

Hotter than Hell

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: mutual masturbation, pretending to be into your BFF to tease your men…so queerbaiting I guess? Sending dirty pictures, unintentional orgasm denial, etc.

Three days pass in radio silence and it’s killing you. Sunny does her best to keep you distracted but she works 12-hour shifts with virtually no phone access.

10 PM on Thursday, you finally get a text.

Bradley: Hey, sweetheart. Sorry to text instead of call, but I’m sharing a room with Bobby and it’s lights out, so we’re both stuck in here. How’re you?

You laugh, knowing what he’s hinting…Please don’t turn me on right now.

Rowan: It’s okay, I understand. I’ll send you my dirty pictures next time. I’m good, just missing you. How are you?

Bradley: Can’t fucking wait. I haven’t gotten off since we left. They’ve been running us ragged. I’m so tired. Bob doesn’t cuddle like you. He’s all ‘Get off me…’ Why are you hard?’

Rowan: LOL, why do I feel like you’re not kidding though?

Bradley: …

Bradley: Kidding. Seriously, Sunny would kill me if I touched Bob (and didn’t let her watch).

Rowan: Wow…same though.

Bradley: Oh yeah?

Rowan: Definitely. I’d be ticked if I missed you getting dicked down by Bob. 😏

Bradley: No, it’d be the other way around. I’d be doing the dicking-downing or whatever.

Rowan: Not a chance. 😂

Bradley: Wow.

Bradley: Damn it, times up. Hopefully, it won’t be too long before we talk again. Love you, see you soon.

Rowan: I love you too, get some sleep.😘

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Even though Bradley keeps a tidy home, you spend Saturday doing a deep clean. You find some photo albums in the attic when you bring a box of your things up, not sure yet if you want to donate it yet or not.

Tears fill your eyes as you flip through the photos. There’s one of Carole holding teeny-tiny Bradley in the hospital, tired but glowing. The next one has the tears spilling over—Nick’s holding him, terrified but excited. You laugh at the one of Bradley on his first birthday, frosting all over his face and curly hair, grinning at the camera.

Your smile falls a few pages later when you see Bradley alone in front of his dad’s coffin, saluting. You turn the page, a wave of nausea hitting you imaging your own child in the same position. The next photo is at least a year or two later and you swallow your sob, knowing Carole was probably so devastated and overwhelmed trying to take care of herself and Bradley that capturing memories with pictures wasn’t even a thought in her mind.

You decide that’s enough for now and put everything back where it was and head back downstairs to finish cleaning.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Sunny picks you up on Sunday for brunch and wedding discussions. She and Bob picked a date next fall back in Minnesota when the leaves should be at their peak color.

Sunny snorts as you show her your conversation from the other night with Bradley about her and Bob. “Agreed. Bradley would definitely be the one bottoming.”

After eating and a few drinks, you both decide to shop off your slight buzz (in truth, neither of you wants to go back to an empty house).

“Ooo, let’s stop here, I want to pick something pretty up for under my bridesmaid dress for Jake and Nat’s wedding,” Sunny says, opening the door to a fancy lingerie boutique.

You laugh, but follow her in. Never should’ve let Sunny have that second tequila sunrise.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Maybe shopping wasn’t a good idea, you think as Sunny tosses items at you to try on.

There are only two fitting rooms and one is occupied so you share the vacant one as it’s roomy enough for two, and the girl at the counter barely looked up from her phone when you walked in.

It’s pretty in the dressing room; walls painted a dark burgundy, accented with a baroque chair and flattering lighting.

“You know what would be fun? To send the boys some sexy pictures of us together in here. I’ll put this little robe on for the ones we sent to Bradley and you can for the ones I send to Bob…?” Sunny asks in a whisper, checking her reflection in the mirror.

Apparently, tequila does more to Sunny than make her clothes fall off. But…it’s not a bad idea. Bradley would lose his mind.

“I like the way you think” you whisper back with a wink.

Sunny wears white, while you’re in black

You take a few photos of her alone; your favorite is her kneeling, eyes closed and your manicured thumb is pressing on her bottom lip. She then does the same for you.

“Go bend over that chair, arch your back, look over your shoulder at me….yeah like that, bite your lip now. Perfect! Bradley is going to die. Look at that butt!” She whispers excitedly, showing you what she snapped.

Next, you set your phone on the shelf and hit the timer for the ones of you together.

You put on your robe and then start behind her, one hand on her lower stomach, the other skimming her cleavage, eyes half-lidded on each other. You step around to her side, hands still on her body as you press your lips to her neck. A few more positions and then you switch; you drop your robe as she dons hers.

You start off the same way, her hands skimming over your body, she takes it a hair further and puts her fingertips in the tops of the lacy underwear, “Hey, buy my dinner first.” She snorts, causing you to laugh.

You take a few more, lips almost brushing in a near kiss before turning to her side and rotating you around, so your ass is to the camera. You bite your lip to not laugh as she squeezes a handful of your ass. “I’m straight but your ass is making me question things.” She whispers before delivering a hard open hand smack to your cheek.

“Jesus, Sun,” you whisper, trying not to laugh too loud, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

“Nah we’re fine. Wait, don’t move. I’m gonna take a picture of my handprint.”

You can’t help but laugh, and let her, knowing Bradley will like it.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You both end up buying what you had on for your impromptu photo shoot and a few things more. The girl at the counter didn’t comment on the fact that you were both in the same fitting room for 45 minutes; you weren’t sure she even noticed.

You two sit in the car and go through the pics, giggling as you send them to her.

“I’m not sure I should even send these…” Sunny laughs as she pulls out of the parking lot.

“What?! Why not? It was your idea!”

“I’m kidding. I’m so sending them. I may regret it though when I can’t walk the day after Bob gets home.”

You laugh. “Same.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Later, you smile as you hit send, hoping you don’t have to wait too long before you can talk again.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Your 2 hours start now!” Cyclone yells.

Bradley heads to the common room, giving Bob privacy in their bunk room for the first hour. His phone is vibrating nonstop, incoming messages all coming in at once as it powers on.

Sitting on a chair, he pulls out his phone and scans the room—nearly empty save for a few others scattered around.

Rowan: Dirty pictures as requested, featuring a special guest.

What the…oh my fucking God, Rowan, he thinks as he clicks on the first picture of you, his cock hardening in an instant.

He slowly flips through them, looking you over in pretty lingerie, nearly swallowing his tongue as he sees one of you bent over the chair, looking at him so innocently over your shoulder, worrying your lip between your teeth.

He discreetly adjusts (palms) himself as he finds the first one with your “special guest”.

It’s his oldest friend clad in a silky robe. Sunny’s a beautiful woman, but he’s never been attracted to her.

There is definitely something attractive about the way she’s touching you though, skimming her fingers over your breasts. Holy shit, her fingers are almost in your panties.

He groans at the next one but covers it (poorly) with a cough. Sunny’s got a handful of your perfect ass. You’re looking at each other’s lips like you’re about to kiss.

His cock twitches and precum leaks as he swipes to the final one. A close-up of Sunny Girl’s handprint on your butt, the red a stark contrast to the pale skin.

40 minutes later he realizes he could’ve been talking to you this whole time.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You reach for your phone as a text comes through.

Bradley: Your pictures had me so distracted I forgot I could text you for the last 40 minutes.

You laugh as you type a response.

Rowan: Sorry?

Bradley: Don’t be. You are the most breathtakingly beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, hot, woman I’ve ever seen.

Bradley: Sorry, that wasn’t even remotely smooth, lol. I don’t even know what to say. All the blood from my head is in my dick, which is gonna fall off soon if I don’t get to jerk off.

Rowan: Lol, thank you. You’re always smooth. 😉Wait, you still haven’t been able to? It’s been almost a week.

Bradley: No. Shared bunk rooms, shared showers, shared fucking everything. There’s always someone around. We have phones until 9 so Bob’s in there now, we’re gonna switch at 8.

Rowan: 11 minutes and you’ll be able to. I’ll even let you watch me.

Bradley: I can’t fucking wait. Is the vibrator charged? I want to see you use it.

Rowan: Yep, charged it after I used it last night.

Bradley: Oh, don’t even say that. I’m gonna end up jizzing in my pants.

Rowan: Again? 😬

Bradley: Ha. Ha. So fucking funny. 🙄

Rowan: I thought so. ☺️

Bradley: I’m heading back, I’ll call you in a few.

Rowan: Can’t wait.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A red-faced Bob is coming out just as Bradley approaches the door.

“Sunny send you pictures too I take it?” Bradley asks.

“Yeah. Never thought I’d be okay seeing someone else touch her but…Jesus Christ,” Bob says, running his fingers through his hair. Bradley’s never seen him flustered like this.

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Bradley says, slapping him on the shoulder as he walks into their room, locking the door behind him.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You answer on the first ring, grinning when you see his handsome face and bare chest.

“Poor Bob looked like he was put through the wringer” is the first thing Bradley says, smiling when he sees you.

“Hey, it was Sunny’s idea…after we had tequila sunrises with brunch” you laugh, “I wore a robe for the ones she sent to him, just like one she wore” you assure him.

“Eh, I wasn’t worried. We share everything else nowadays.” He jokes, winking at you.

“Oh yeah, Sunny and I talked about it and she agrees, by the way. You’d definitely bottom if you two were to get together.”

He scoffs, offended. “Whatever.”

“Sorry babe, you just give off that submissive vibe” you tease.

“I’ll show you submissive.” He says, changing his tune, “Get naked. Now.”

“Yes sir,” you reply sarcastically but oblige.

You set your phone on the nightstand and strip quickly before flipping back on the bed.

“Good girl,” he says lowly, and a shiver crawls up your spine. “Now tease those pretty nipples for me. Yeah, like that. Pinch ‘em too…good.” He tells you, his voice rough. You can hear he’s starting to touch himself too.

“I wanna see all of you, baby, please?” You ask, still playing with your nipples.

“Yeah, hang on,” he says, setting this phone above him so you can see more of his stomach and his hand stroking his erection.

You sigh as you watch him. Out of all the things you’ve done together, this is the first time you’ve watched each other masturbate.

“Your body is incredible Bradley,” you say, fingers now circling your clit. You pick up the vibrator from the nightstand, turn it on, and replace your fingers with it. “God, just look at you.”

He groans, hating and loving your words. He’s so worked up from not cumming in a week, especially after getting off at least twice daily in the 10 days before deploying.

“Row, fuck, I’m sorry but I’m close already. I want you to get there first. Can you do that?” He pants, cheeks ruddy as he fists himself.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” you say, pushing two fingers in and pushing the vibrator setting higher. “I can’t wait to have you inside me,” you whine, curling your fingers and finding your G-spot.

“I’m almost there-almost…I-I…” you can’t finish your sentence as your orgasm hits you, whimpering as you do. It feels so good but it’s not the same without him here.

You notice he’s quiet you catch your breath, not yet able to open your eyes. “Bradley, did you cum?”

No response. You open your eyes and your phone is black. You pick it up and turn the screen on.

The call was disconnected.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Row? Can you hear me?” Bradley pants, so so so close as the screen going black.

“Are you still there? Fuck!” He growls, picking up his phone to call you back. But it’s no use. ‘No service’ is all that comes up when he tries.

He hears frustrated voices in the hall, so he’s not the only one affected. He looks down at his throbbing erection and sighs before pulling his pants back on, hoping to find out what’s going on so he can call you back.

Bob is about to knock as he opens the door.

“Something was detected on sonar, so they cut the phones early. I got a text out to Sun before mine went, I’m sure she’ll let Row know.”

“Thanks, man”, he says flopping back on his bunk, reciting the flight manual in his head to get his cock back under control.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: I hope the queerbaiting doesn’t offend anyone—if you read Sunny’s story, you’ll see that she (like Rowan) gets off on teasing her man and loves turning him on at inappropriate times (can you tell I like it too?) I am pro-LGBTQI.

Tagging:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@ingoaliesitrust

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #robert bob floyd #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun smut #bob floyd

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starsstuddedsky · 1 year

Text

Chapter 2 - What Happens in the Closet...

reader x jihoon

Chapter 1 | masterlist | Chapter 3

summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt

or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!

warnings: cursing???? i think that's it???

wc: 5.2k

a/n: tysm for reading!!!! school is kicking my butt this week lol so there's a solid chance there's typos, i'm sorry :(

taglist: open! send an ask or comment!

Jihoon has always trusted his gut. It’s never led him wrong; the schools he chose, the law firms he declined, the clients he advised, they’ve all been good choices. He knows better than to ignore the little feeling deep down in his stomach that doesn’t sit right, warning him that something is wrong.

Unfortunately, this morning he convinces himself it’s just because he hasn’t had his coffee yet.

He multitasks, typing a furious reply to Mark from accounting (who has apparently lost the ability to read, since the information he is asking for is in the first e-mail that Jihoon sent) while also heading toward the pretty wall of expensive coffee makers that played a significant role in his decision to accept the job offer here. That’s why he doesn’t notice you until you practically bounce off his chest.

“My bad, I—” You freeze when you meet his eyes.

I’m sorry, Jihoon tries to say, except the words don’t come out, and now he’s stuck looking at you with the same wide-eyed stare you are giving him. It’s not often that Jihoon finds himself speechless, but there’s so much he needs to say, to explain. Too much. He hasn’t had the chance to even think about telling you the absolutely idiotic things he said on Saturday night, even after he spent all day Sunday staring at his ceiling and imagining how to explain. The only proof it wasn’t all a nightmare is the texts blowing up his phone this morning from Seungcheol and Joshua who managed to find your Instagram (apparently they approved, though it was tricky to explain why he wasn’t following you).

“We need to talk,” Jihoon finally says.

“I really am sorry,” you respond. You lean back against the counter and Jihoon catches a glance of a cup of coffee behind you, a mug decorated in bright letters that spell out your name (Fact #5: you like colors?).

“Not about that,” Jihoon says. “Well, I guess about that, but not really, it’s complicated, and—”

“Morning,” a familiar deep voice says. Jihoon turns around to find Wonwoo behind him. His eyebrows are raised well over his round glasses, forming shapely arches. He slings his arm over Jihoon’s shoulder, glancing between Jihoon and you.

A sudden thought crosses Jihoon’s mind. Even though Wonwoo was shipped off on a last minute “emergency” work trip over the weekend, there is no way that news as inconceivable as Jihoon finally losing his lifelong title of ‘bitchless’ wasn’t the first thing Wonwoo saw the second he turned his phone off airplane mode. Meaning that the side eye he is giving him now is because he’s about to call Jihoon out on the worst lie he’s ever told and turn him into the biggest laughing stock the world has ever seen.

He really should have listened to his gut.

“So,” Wonwoo says, “How long has this been going on?” His grip on Jihoon’s shoulder tightens.

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

“You and him,” Wonwoo says, gesturing between you and Jihoon.

Jihoon elbows Wonwoo, pushing the taller man off. “Not here,” he mutters.

Before he can say anything else, you gasp. “It’s not what you think!”

Jihoon grabs your hand before you can say anything else, pulling you past a bewildered Wonwoo. He ignores the stares of the paralegals and lawyers in the halls as he pulls you past the peering eyes, into the nearest open door, which, unfortunately, is the janitor’s closet. There goes any chance at subtlety.

“Jihoon?” You ask as he fumbles along the wall trying to find the light switch. He’s still holding your hand, which he only realizes when you lightly tug it out of his grasp.

He finally finds the switch, flipping it on to find that it connects to a solitary lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that flickers and is definitely a safety hazard. You’re standing directly under the light. Because the light is tinted yellow, Jihoon gets the faint impression that you’re glowing.

You glance between Jihoon and the door behind him, which he realizes he is accidentally blocking. He steps to the side, not wanting you to think that he’s trapping you in here, though he doesn’t have a contingency plan if you run away now. Not that he has any actual plan right now; none of his Sunday-morning-imaginary-conversations took place in a room that smells like bleach and has lighting that hasn’t been touched since the ‘80s.

“I swear, I have no idea how Wonwoo found out,” you say quickly. “No one knows other than my friends, and I told them we’d both get fired if anyone at work found out, so I really don’t know how he found out, but I swear, I’ll tell him it was just a rumor and it isn’t true at all. I’m really sorry, I know you said you wanted nothing to do with me, so, whatever I can do, I’ll do it, just please don’t report me to HR.”

Jihoon felt bad before, but now if guilt could build a time machine, he’d go all the way back to elementary school and beg his mother to take him with her when she left. Maybe then you wouldn’t be looking at him with actual tears threatening to fall.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s made someone cry, but somehow it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s the one at fault.

“So the thing is,” Jihoon says. “I think it might have been me.” Thankfully your frown doesn’t send the tears tumbling down, but your confusion means that he must, unfortunately, continue to explain. “I sort of told a few of my friends that I was dating someone from work.” He can’t bring himself to say it all, not with his own words echoing in his ears berating you for doing something so foolish. “It’s a very long story, but they believe that I am dating you, and I let them believe it.”

“You let them believe…” you repeat softly, as though you still aren’t understanding. Jihoon can’t blame you; he hardly believes it himself.

“Well, believe isn’t really the right word, because they didn’t see any evidence.” Jihoon had also spent a lot of time on Sunday trying to explain why he didn’t have any photos of you, let alone with you. “So I may have told them that you are coming to my friend’s thing on Saturday. As my date.”

You stare at him. If you keep looking at him with a frown that deep you’re going to get wrinkles, but he figures now is not the time to mention that. There’s nothing he can do now but wait, (most of) the truth now out in the open. He holds his breath as you open your mouth, then close it, then open it again.

“Are you asking me to fake date you?” You finally ask.

“Yes?” Jihoon says.

Fact #6: You have a ridiculous laugh.

He discovers this as you burst into laughter, smile finally breaking the frown as you gasp for breath, clutching your sides. It sounds like something between a machine gun and a dying deer, not that he’s heard either of those sounds in real life before.

“Are you okay?” He asks, because it seriously doesn’t look like you can breathe, and he’s starting to worry that he’s actually broken you.

“You told them you’re fake dating me?” You manage between gasps.

Jihoon sighs. “Yes. Look, I know an apology is overdue—”

“Way overdue.”

“Way overdue,” Jihoon says because you’re mad enough at him already and he can survive appeasing you at least a little. “So I do apologize. I shouldn’t have yelled at you and threatened HR, and I should have talked to you before I did anything as dumb as telling my friends that we are dating.”

“Obviously,” you say.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asks now that you’ve mostly stopped laughing, wiping a few tears from your eyes.

“I don’t really know how to answer that,” you say.

Jihoon nods. “I don’t blame you for being mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you say quickly. “Shocked and stunned and a lot of other words, but mad isn’t one of them. Mostly, it’s funny.”

“Funny.”

“Funny!”

Jihoon frowns as you burst into giggles again, though you stifle them quickly at his glare.

“Seriously, I mean, who goes off on their coworker and then not even a day later does the same exact thing,” you say. “I’ve always known you were a little… But that’s beside the point, because you are, in fact, asking me to fake date you?”

“Wait, a little what?” Jihoon asks.

You shake your head, leaning against a metal pole, then immediately straightening when you almost knock over a shelf of toilet paper. “I don’t think I’m obligated to answer that.” He opens his mouth but you raise your eyebrows. “If you ask again I’m going to answer something that you won’t like.”

“Is it the truth?”

You shrug. “Do you want me to come to the thing on Saturday and pretend to be ridiculously in love with you or not?”

“You don’t have to be ridiculous,” Jihoon mumbles. He takes a deep breath, trying to convince himself that this is still a good idea somehow (eventually he settles for the conclusion that it’s much too far to turn back now). “Yes, I would like you to please be my date on Saturday.”

“Can you say that again so I can record it?” You ask a little too innocently. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please.”

“You’ve barely heard me say five words,” Jihoon says. “This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“With the exception of literally three days ago when you yelled at me. And the presentation you gave in eighth grade on the importance of fish in the ecosystem of the creek by the school and you were so excited because you brought your fish except it died on the way to school and you were so upset you locked yourself in the bathroom and they had to call your dad to pick you up.” You look a little too smug.

“If you tell anyone about that, I’m telling them about the time you wrote an entire essay on symbolism in the Harry Potter series over the summer, and then it wasn’t even accepted because they said extra credit was unethical.”

“You remember that?” You frown at him. “Look, I was a different person back then. J.K. Rowling was a different person back then.”

“Pretty sure a TERF is always a TERF,” Jihoon says. It’s easy to fall into banter with you. He finds himself wondering why he’s never spoken to you like this before, until he remembers Fundamental Fact #3: you are an idiot in love.

More than anything, he wants to leave this closet. Run away and lock himself in his room and dive into his work (and tell Mark that he’s an idiot who can’t read) and forget all of this. But you still haven’t said yes.

“I will do whatever you want,” he says, quickly adding, “within reason,” because your eyes light up a little too brightly. “You can tell your friends that we’re fake dating. We can actually fake date. I can write a contract and everything, just, please, come with me?”

Jihoon has always thought that your kindness made you weaker, but he’s grateful for it now because you smile at him and say, “Yes.”

He hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too obvious. He thinks you might say something else (“You have to pretend to be my date to my friends in return,” or “I was just kidding, you’re insane and I won’t do it,” or “Don’t fall in love with me”) but before you can open your mouth, there’s a knock at the door.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says, voice muffled. “I hate to interrupt, but yn, we have a meeting in like two minutes.”

You glance at the time on your phone and curse, pushing past Jihoon and practically bursting out of the closet. He loses sight of you sprinting toward your office as the door swings shut. Jihoon seriously considers staying here for the rest of the day (possibly the rest of his life), but the door creaks open again to reveal Wonwoo, pinstripe suit and all. He folds his arms and leans against the door.

“We need to talk.”

Jihoon has never been scared of any of his friends, but fear is the only word he can use to describe how he feels now. The final beats to Jihoon’s life sounds a lot like Wonwoo’s footsteps as they echo while he follows the tall man to his own office. This is it. The jig is up before he even shows you to his friends. Well, it was an idiotic plan in the first place and at least he didn’t embarrass you alongside everyone else.

Wonwoo has the decency to wait for the door to shut behind him.

“I can’t believe you,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head. “I leave for one weekend, and you tell everyone that you’re dating yn?”

“I know, I—”

“I mean, seriously, we’ve been friends for how long now?” Wonwoo pauses to count on his fingers. “Eight years? Nine? We work together! I know yn better than any of them, and I had to hear from Mingyu that you two are dating?”

Jihoon frowns. Did Wonwoo actually believe him?

“Honestly, I’m offended,” Wonwoo says. “Seriously, how am I not the first person you think of? I’ve been saying for years that you and yn would be perfect together.”

“I didn’t mean to tell them,” Jihoon says. “They were just being annoying about it, so it slipped out.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Right under my nose and I didn’t see it.”

“Well, you are like a point away from being legally blind,” Jihoon says.

Wonwoo glares at him. “You owe me details.”

“Don’t you have a meeting?” Jihoon says.

Wonwoo’s phone rings. He answers in a hushed tone, shooting Jihoon a look that clearly says this isn’t over. Jihoon breathes a sigh of relief as Wonwoo exits, resting his head on his desk. What just happened?

A small part of him had hoped that Wonwoo was going to call him out and this entire mess would be over. But he believed him? Jihoon, who had only ever scoffed at you, despite Wonwoo constantly talking about how well you would work together. Well, he’s clearly having the last laugh now.

Jihoon takes a deep breath and sits up. He still has a job to do. Though his life is clearly falling apart, he should at least make sure Mark from accounting doesn’t mess up his paycheck (again). And he has a contract to write.

Objectively, Jihoon has to admit you look good. It has nothing to do with opinion; it’s a fact (fact #8: you look good in formalwear, though he makes a mental note for an addendum that says that’s the whole point of formalwear). Jihoon spends a normal amount of time looking at you (counting to five seconds before looking away), then ushers you into the backseat of the limo because for some reason you aren’t moving.

“Do I get to know why we’re in a limo or why I had to buy new clothes?” You ask, taking care to make sure none of the flowy garment got stuck in the door.

“I told you I’d cover that,” Jihoon says.

“No, it was kind of bad that I didn’t have anything this nice, and now I have something to wear to the end of the year gala,” you say. “Way to dodge the question though.”

Jihoon grimaces. It’s difficult to judge how people react to finding out about his friends (given that he has “little-to-no” experience introducing anyone to them), and he isn’t entirely certain that you won’t jump out of the car when he tells you the truth. But apparently you can’t sit in silence for long.

“Okay, well, if you won’t tell me, then I’m going to guess,” you say. “Are we going to a wedding?”

“No.”

“A funeral?”

“Why would I wear a tux to a funeral?”

“Hey, I don’t judge,” you say with a shrug. “It looks very good on you, by the way.” Jihoon glances at you but you’re twisting your face into a strange frown as you think, so you don’t notice the way his ears tinge pink at the comment. “Prom?”

“We’re grown adults.”

“Prom needs chaperones,” you say. “Besides, you never went to prom.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t catch my date making out with someone else either, so, it wasn’t that bad of a night for me.”

“Ouch,” you say. “That was low.”

Jihoon remembers that you are technically doing him a favor today (if saving his life counts as a favor), so he says, “Well, there’s no way you could know I was in my pajamas watching anime all day, so, it wasn’t fair. Sorry.” Maybe around you he’ll get used to apologizing. He can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

Luckily, you accept his peace offering, flashing a smile that is quickly becoming familiar. Your face twists into that strange frown again, and Jihoon determines Fact #9: you are unwaveringly stubborn.

“Oh!” You gasp. “Are you secretly rich?”

Jihoon snorts. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you picked me up in a limo wearing a tux, after telling me to dress in fancy, expensive clothes,” you say. “Plus you are super secretive about your personal life, and, I don’t know, you give off rich guy vibes. Unless I’m totally wrong?”

“I’m not rich,” Jihoon says. “I mean, I guess I have a decent amount of money saved since I mostly just work and go to the gym and the only thing I really buy is groceries.” Jihoon realizes just how boring he sounds. “I mean, I do go out. Just not often, and I buy… things, anyways, I’m not rich.”

“Sure,” you say. You turn to look out the window, but Jihoon doesn’t miss the laugh poorly disguised as a cough.

Luckily (because Jihoon is absolutely positive you would have continued interrogating him), the limo stops and you don’t have to guess anymore.

“You’re joking,” you say, whipping around in your seat to stare at him.

Jihoon can’t say that he doesn’t enjoy seeing you speechless. You look back and forth between him and the chaos on the street.

“You said you weren’t secretly rich!” You say. “How did you get tickets for a literal red carpet event?” Your face is centimeters away from pressing against the glass, breath quickly making it too foggy to see. “This is the Eternals sequel!”

“You like Marvel?”

“No, actually I think the franchise has a lot of issues.”

Jihoon gasps, but you’re already climbing out of the limo, turning back to face him with a smile. It’s so bright Jihoon forgets why he was mad.

“Come on,” you say. You hold out your hand, and after a moment, Jihoon takes it. He doesn’t let go when he gets out of the car, tightening his fingers around yours, anchoring you to his side.

It’s chaotic, but not nearly as chaotic as he knows it will be soon. Half the press haven’t even arrived yet, and the theater is mostly surrounded by the scatter of crew members and invited guests that aren’t celebrities. Jihoon spots Mingyu first, his tall head standing out in the crowd.

“You ready?” Jihoon asks, turning to look at you. You’re still staring at everything, unable to hide your grin. Maybe he should have warned you, but it’s kind of fun to see you like this. Bright.

Mingyu literally shouts when he sees Jihoon. He watches as Mingyu’s eyes practically lock on to you, and he starts pushing his way towards you, Wonwoo and Seungcheol in tow.

“The tall, overly excited one is Mingyu,” Jihoon whispers. “You know Wonwoo, and—”

“Seungcheol, right?” You glance at Jihoon.

He frowns. “How did you know that?”

“We did go to the same college, you know.” Right. Because this wasn’t complicated enough. Jihoon starts to think that all of this is a mistake, but it’s hardly the first time today, and as Mingyu approaches, all he can do is tighten his hand around yours and commit.

“Jihoon!” Mingyu says as soon as he’s close. His voice carries, more than a few people casting a glance at him. He takes another step, but his foot gets caught on something (knowing Mingyu, it’s nothing), and he’s sent tumbling to the ground. Neither Seungcheol nor Wonwoo attempt to catch him, letting the tall man collapse on the ground.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You ask over Seungcheol’s giggling. Wonwoo helps Mingyu up, but he’s laughing as well, and even Jihoon’s nerves aren’t enough to stop him from breaking a smile.

“I’m used to it,” Mingyu says, walking much slower. His hair took the worst of the fall, now a disheveled mess. Jihoon wonders how long it’ll take for him to notice.

“Mingyu, Seungcheol, this is yn,” Jihoon says. “My real, living, breathing, human date.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Mingyu says, shaking your free hand. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Really?”

“No, this is Jihoon we're talking about, we were lucky to get your name.”

“That sounds more like the man I know,” you say, turning to flash a smile at him before facing Mingyu again. Mingyu glances at your other hand, fingers still intertwined with his, and Jihoon thinks he might actually believe it.

“We’ve met before,” Seungcheol says. “Though there was a lot of alcohol, and I don’t really remember it all that well.”

“Georgia’s Bar, right?” You say. It takes all of Jihoon’s self control not to react. Surely he would have remembered seeing you at the only bar his friends could drag him to during college?

“Probably,” Seungcheol says. “I was getting my MBA, and there were a lot of bars. Very few that we could get Jihoon to go to, though.” He raises his eyebrow. “That’s why we're all a little surprised that someone actually managed to get him out of his apartment and away from his work.”

Jihoon glances between you and Seungcheol as you think about the answer to what is obviously a test. “I don’t think I really got him away from his work.” You turn to Jihoon with what can only be described as a warm, loving smile. You’re really good at this. “But I’m pretty much married to my job too, so it works.”

Seungcheol nods but Jihoon can tell he doesn’t believe fully, at least not yet. “We should go inside before everyone else gets here and this turns into a mess.” He turns to head into the cinema, leaving everyone else to follow. Mingyu and Wonwoo start chatting about Mingyu’s (alleged) drama at work that has something to do with a secretary, the CEO of the company, and his famous but estranged brother. Jihoon doesn’t bother to listen, turning to look at you.

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “He doesn’t believe us.”

“Not yet,” Jihoon whispers. “Give him time, he’s just particular.” He pauses, then says, “The detail about Georgia’s was good.”

You nod. “It was true.”

“How many times have you met him?”

“Just once,” you say. “You were there too.”

Before Jihoon can ask anything else, Wonwoo calls, “Hey, lovers, are you coming or what?” They’re already inside the cinema, waving for you to catch up or get left behind. You flash Jihoon a determined smile and squeeze his hand, jogging to catch up to the rest of the guys.

Jihoon can’t help but wonder how long your lives have been like this, the roots of two trees that brush against each other but never tangle. Until now.

“Do we have an ETA on the kid?” Wonwoo asks as you settle into the theater seats. You’re doing a good job of acting natural, or at the very least, not gawking at every other detail of the (admittedly stunning) theater.

“You’re not calling him that now, too,” Jihoon says. “He’s a grown adult. Also, he should be here soon.”

“How’s the kid?” Seungcheol asks, folding his arms. Jihoon rolls his eyes with the emphasis on kid. “No nervous breakdowns?”

“He was fine when I called him earlier,” Mingyu says. “As soon as the cameras are on him, he’ll put a smile on.”

Seungcheol grunts but still looks worried. Jihoon would tell him that he cares too much, but he knows Seungcheol will just say that it’s to make up for Jihoon not caring at all, so he doesn’t quite see the point. Besides, it’s Seungkwan; Jihoon is pretty sure all his friends have a soft spot for the younger man, Seungcheol especially.

“He must be here,” Mingyu says when screams erupt from outside. He checks his watch. “A little early, isn’t he? Doesn’t he normally make a grand entrance?”

Jihoon doesn’t miss the way you frown at him, clearly aware that you’re missing something very important. He studies the lights and pretends not to notice your glare.

Most of the commotion is at the entrance, though the bulk of the press aren’t allowed into the theater. Jihoon hears more than he can see, but he knows it’s Seungkwan and the rest of the star-studded cast that are used to being the center of attention. He doesn’t miss you craning your neck to catch a glimpse of why everyone is staring.

Seungkwan’s blonde head appears from the crowd, but he makes the rounds first, checking in with every staff member, shaking hands and taking pictures. Ever the perfect celebrity.

Still, he doesn’t miss how Seungkwan locks in on you, grabbing a tall skinny man and whispering a few words before striding across the theater to where the entire group sat.

“That’s Boo Seungkwan,” you whisper. “And he’s walking over here.”

“I didn’t tell you we’re friends?” Jihoon says.

If looks could kill, Jihoon would be dead, but it’s worth it because even with murder on your mind you (objectively) look good. Maybe it comes from being a divorce lawyer—Jihoon wonders if this is the glare you use when the to-be-divorced couples bicker, then wonders if he’s thinking a little too much about your glare.

The rest of his friends greet Seungkwan as if this is normal, which, technically, it is. Except this is a blockbuster movie premiere and Jihoon is using it to soft launch his (fake) relationship to his world famous best friend. To your credit, you manage to shake his hand and greet him normally.

If Jihoon is being honest with himself, Seungkwan is the only one he really feels guilty lying to. It doesn’t sit right, even though Seungkwan is partially to blame for thinking Jihoon’s happiness is reflected directly onto his love life. It doesn’t help that Seungkwan knows exactly how to guilt him, smiling and greeting you as if this is normal. Jihoon knows him too well, seeing the suspicion behind his friend’s eyes. As if convincing Seungcheol isn’t hard enough.

“So are all of Jihoon’s rich and famous?” You ask after he introduces himself.

“Hey! We have the same student loans,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m not rich,” Seungcheol says.

“Yeah, but your family is, so basically the same thing,” Mingyu says.

“Not the same thing,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Mingyu, who, honestly, should have known better than to bring that up. But because it’s Mingyu, he laughs it off, and soon enough Seungcheol is smiling too.

“Joshua’s pretty broke too,” Minghao says. “He doesn’t make a million dollars for crying in front of a green screen.”

“I told you, my character has grown since then,” Seungkwan says.

“You cry on an actual different planet?” Seungcheol asks.

“I’m convinced none of you actually pay attention to the movies,” Seungkwan says with an overdramatic sigh. “We were on Earth for the entire movie.”

“Wasn’t there a bit where Gemma Chan yelled at someone in space?” Jihoon asks.

“Nerd,” he’s pretty sure he heard you whisper through a fake cough.

“I don’t know if that counts, she wasn’t actually there.” Seungkwan rounds on you. “I don’t suppose you remember?”

“Weren’t you technically in space right at the start?”

Seungkwan cocks his head, thinking back. “Huh, oh yeah. I forgot that.”

Jihoon has about a million questions that he wants to ask you, mostly related to Marvel movies and the fact that you’ve seen them all, even though you clearly don’t like the franchise. He curbs them because he knows you’ll call him a nerd, plus Seungkwan almost looks like he approves.

“Do I have a lot to look forward to today?” You ask. “Someone didn’t tell me where we're going, so I couldn’t look up any critic reviews.”

Seungkwan winces. “I don’t like looking at those.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “I saw at least three headlines talking about the prodigy dropping another masterful work of acting, or whatever they say about people like you.”

“Not a prodigy,” Seungkwan mutters.

“Either way, whatever Seungkwan is in, it’s good,” Seungcheol says, patting Seungkwan on the back. “And he gets paid.”

“That’s the most important part,” Wonwoo says.

Seungkwan looks like he wants to say more, but the director of the film waves him down and he’s forced to say a hasty goodbye, promising to meet with them later.

Jihoon feels your hand squeeze his tight enough to cut off his circulation. He turns to face you in the dim lighting, finding you with a disarmingly sweet smile.

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask, voice so sweet he almost believes you aren’t upset.

“I thought it would be fun if it was a surprise?” Jihoon says.

You lean in close to him, your breath mixing with his, smelling faintly like clementines and something else citrusy. For some godforsaken reason, Jihoon thinks you are about to kiss him. “You’re going to regret this.”

He opens his eyes and you are gone, laughing at some joke Mingyu made about PDA. Jihoon is vaguely aware it’s at his expense, something to do with how red his ears are, but he’s too busy trying to get his heart to at least pretend like it isn’t about to explode out of his chest. Why the hell did he think you were going to kiss him? Why is he disappointed that you didn’t? Jihoon wonders for the thousandth time if it’s not too late to call the whole thing off, but the lights in the theater are dimming and a spotlight is put on the director, who gives an unnecessarily long speech about what a labor of love this movie was to make, and then the movie is starting, and it’s too late to run away.

#seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #svt x reader #svt #seventeen #woozi #lee jihoon x reader #lee Jihoon #woozi angst #woozi fluff #lee jihoon angst #lee jihoon fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #as a matter of fact

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 1 year

Text

Beyond Rumours

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Chapter Twenty-One

Summary: Y/n is a Malfoy. A Pureblood. A pretentious, blood-status-loving Slytherin. At least, those are the rumours, but since when has Remus Lupin ever really cared about rumours?

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: heyy. how y'all doing... sorry i left this so long lol. as u probably know i'm currently writing some things for my 1k celebration but i've nearly finished that so hopefully i'll be able to write more of this :))

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REMUS LUPIN

Saturday, 24th of December 1977

The fire crackled beside us as my group of six friends sat in the common room. It was well past eleven now – everyone else had gone to bed, but the rest of us just had so much to do and talk about, apparently.

The Yule Ball was a popular topic. None of the girls would tell us what they were wearing, which seemed to infuriate Sirius – he'd always been a lover of fashion. Whenever it was mentioned I'd always sneak a glance at Y/n – just to see her already looking at me. Maybe they were right. Maybe she did like me – maybe I could ask her...

No.

She wouldn't.

James and Lily sat together on the couch – and I mean together. At the beginning, Lily had just draped her legs across his, but now she was fully sat in his lap, arms circled around his neck and hands playing in his curls. His hands were around her waist respectfully. His hands never ventured lower, and he'd even asked her permission for it. He thought he'd been discreet, but I could hear everything – one of the few pros (or one of the many cons, depending on how you looked at it) of being a werewolf.

"We should probably be getting to bed soon," Lily yawned.

"C'mon, it's not like we're gonna miss Santa Claus," James grinned. "He's not real."

Sirius gasped, placing his hands over Peter's ears. "Shh! Don't spoil Pete's dreams!"

Peter batted his hands away with a scowl, causing the rest of us to laugh.

"Hey, what if we have a sleepover?" James suggested. "Y'know, all of us?"

Sirius sat upright and stared at James with adoration in his eyes. "James Fleamont Potter," he gushed, "That is completely and utterly the best idea you've ever come up with!"

"A sleepover is his best idea ever?" Y/n scoffed. "And here I was, thinking James may have had a bright future ahead of him."

James scowled and everyone laughed.

"A sleepover sounds fun," Lily said.

"Well, since us fellas can't get into the ladies' dorms, it seems you will be joining us," Sirius said, winking at Lily, and causing James's arms to tighten slightly.

Lily and Y/n got up to get changed into their pyjamas and get ready for bed, and the rest of us walked to the boys' dorms. Regulus disappeared into the bathroom, and James cast a silencing charm before turning on me.

"Have you asked her out yet?" he pressed.

"Who?"

"Y/n, you idiot!" Sirius cut in.

I felt myself blush a deep red, and I looked away, rubbing the back of my neck. "Er... no."

"Why not?" Sirius demanded.

"I don't think she likes me," I mumbled.

Sirius looked at me like I had said the stupidest thing ever, and it made me want to hit him. "C'mon, you asked her to the ball, and she said yes! That's gotta mean something!"

"Maybe she just didn't want to hurt my feelings," I protested. Even though my thoughts travelled back to how she'd reacted – how she'd seemed glad, excited, even. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Sirius scoffed and James rolled his eyes.

"All in favour that Y/n likes Remus back and he should ask her out?" Peter suggested, raising his hand.

I glared at my friends as their hands all rose in the air, and they all voiced their agreements.

"Wait, you like Y/n?" All of our heads whipped to the bathroom door, where Regulus stood, a massive grin on his face. "I gotta tell her."

I felt my stomach drop, and I was surprised it hadn't fallen out of my body and hit the floor.

"You aren't telling anyone anything," Sirius barked. "Can anyone perform a memory charm?"

"Hey! You stay away from my memories!" Regulus hissed, covering his head as if it would shield him from the magic.

James stepped towards Regulus, "You understand why Moony would want to keep this quiet, right?"

Regulus just looked at James, assessing him, and I felt my heart drop. Regulus would tell Y/n, and she would be weirded out and never speak to me again. I could already see it happening, see everything playing out in my head... until Regulus sighed.

"Fine," he muttered, "my lips are sealed."

It was silent for a moment, before Peter piped up, "Regulus would know if Y/n likes Remus too."

I saw a look of shock on Regulus's face before he quickly schooled his features into neutrality and shrugged. "I don't think I'm allowed to tell you that."

"Reg–" Sirius started, but Peter cut across.

"It's a yes!" he yelled.

Everyone turned to him, expressions of confusion clear on our faces.

"I dunno how you came to that conclusion, mate," James said.

"Well, if she didn't like Remus, Regulus would just tell us, wouldn't he?" Peter explained. "Y'know, so you don't get your hopes up. And if he's not allowed to tell us, it's obviously a secret, which means it's obviously a yes."

Everyone looked to Regulus, who muttered, "fuck."

"HA!" Sirius yelled, pointing at me. "Told you so!"

"Shut up," I grumbled, flopping down onto my bed.

Sirius whooped and jumped up on his bed, throwing his head back and singing, "Moony's in love! Our Moony's in love!"

"Shut up!"

"Never!"

"I will hang you from the Astronomy Tower," I threatened.

"That doesn't sound very Prefect-like of you."

I turned at the sound of Y/n's voice to see her grinning, standing beside Lily in the doorway. I quickly looked at the others, unsure as to how long they'd been there.

"How much of that did you catch?" I asked nervously.

Y/n cocked her head. "Er... just your violent threat. Also you telling Sirius to shut up, which, I'm sure, was for a valid reason."

Sirius gasped in outrage and lunged for Y/n, but she sidestepped, smiling as she did so. That little grin was enough to make me smile too, but it dropped as soon as I saw my friends giving me suggestive smirks.

Lily and Y/n conjured mattresses for themselves and made their beds, before they both sat cross-legged beside each other.

We'd never had a sleepover before – at least, not with the girls. I expected them to beg us to do our hair or make up, but that never happened. The closest thing to that was Y/n yanking on Regulus's hair because he was annoying her.

It took a while for everyone to fall asleep. We were all so excited and eager for Christmas and the ball that we were wide awake. But no one stayed up forever. Peter was the first to fall asleep. I could hear him snoring away, so I cast a sound-silencing charm over his bed so we wouldn't wake him up. Lily was next, in James's arms. And then James himself, and Sirius and Regulus, until it was just me and Y/n left.

The moon shone into the dorm – it had been full a week ago, and it still glowed brightly, the stars glinting beside it. Y/n studied it carefully and then looked over at me. I felt myself blush when I realised I'd been caught staring, but the girl just smiled at me.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked.

Y/n looked at me for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. James let out a snort in his sleep, which caused Y/n to jump. I had to stifle a laugh, and she narrowed her eyes at me, and I hesitated for a moment before gesturing to her to come over. She looked at the bed beside her and slowly got up, tiptoeing across the room and to my bed. I cast a silencing charm and she raised an eyebrow, to which I shook my head furiously, embarrassment and mortification filling my body.

"That's not – I didn't cast the charm because – because I wanted–"

Y/n laughed. "I was just teasing."

Relief washed through me, and I was able to smile alongside her. It was silent, before–

"The – the stars," she whispered. "I was thinking about the stars. That one is Regulus."

She pointed to a star in the sky, but I couldn't make out which one it was.

"I – I look at it, sometimes, when I'm at – at that place. When I'm surrounded by them." It took me a moment to realise she was talking about Malfoy Manor, and her family members. "It – it feels like he's there with me, sometimes. Comforting me."

"You love him," I stated.

Y/n smiled slightly. "Tell him and I'll have to kill you."

I smiled back at her, feeling her words resonate slightly.

"I know what you mean," I confessed, looking at the sleeping figures of my friends. "I – without them, I... I wouldn't..."

I wouldn't be who I am. I would be shrouded in misery and self-hatred. My friends were everything to me. They were worth more than anything in the world. More than money, more than fame, and (although I'd never admit it to them) more than books and chocolate. They were my rock in a stormy sea, the thing that kept me afloat.

Y/n nodded softly in understanding. "I know," she murmured.

She was no longer smiling, but there was empathy in her features. Did she feel the same way about Regulus? Was he her rock? Her eyes bored into mine, and I was suddenly reminded of the saying, the eyes are the window to the soul. If she looked hard enough, would she see through? See inside, see what a monster I was?

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

I couldn't tell her – not this, never this. I wanted to believe that she'd be understanding, that she'd be like James and Sirius and Peter and Lily – that she wouldn't care. But I couldn't take that risk.

"The Ball," I lied.

If she knew that I hadn't told the truth, she made no mention of it. In fact, she even smiled, looking down shyly and batting her eyelashes a bit.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I said. "I, um... I think it'll be good. Y'know, if I don't trample your feet."

Y/n chuckled and looked up at me, her smile brightening the room, washing out the glow of the moon. "You'll be fine, Remus. I believe in you."

And the way she said my name – fuck. I was falling hard, and I could tell there was no stopping. I was freefalling without a parachute, without anything to stop or catch me. This wasn't going away, the feelings weren't going away. I should stop it now, I should just let her go, but...

But you're scared. You want her.

I did want her. So badly. I wanted to be with her, to kiss her, to hold her hand and hold her and be the one she called hers.

"We should probably get some rest, huh?" she suggested, looking back at her own makeshift bed. "Y'know, so we don't miss Santa?"

I grinned at her, and she slid off my bed and into her own.

You'll be fine, Remus. I believe in you.

Fuck. It was really going to hurt when I hit the ground.

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dotieeee · 1 year

Text

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 15

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

**********************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

no spoilers, so just read at your own risk lol

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 15: Your King's Wish

"His name is Sumnio."

The Corinthian drains his cup and sets it back down. "He's a shapeshifter, just like you were, but he's brutal. Almost makes my time worthwhile," he muses quite gleefully.

You listen intently to what he has to say, seeing as it has been a long time since you've been in the sea of dreams yourself, and you miss it more than anything. Absent-mindedly, you pick up a sweet from the table and take a large bite, only to gag on it and spit it out.

"Ugh, cinnamon. Awful stuff. Continue, sorry," you mumble, placing the sweet back on your platter. "'Doubt', huh? What kind of doubt does he, uh, inspire?"

"All of it," he says, maintaining the same look of maniacal cheer. "But what I've seen…well, let's just say, his work has devastating effects. I know you'd appreciate good work when you see one. And boy, the damage he does is almost irreparable."

So it seems like he is having fun with the new Nightmare, he just doesn't want to admit it. Raising your eyebrows at the conclusion you've formed, you remark, "Glad to hear you still enjoy watching others suffer. So what is it about his work that gives you such a hard-on?"

"Well, he's been causing a ruckus lately. Nasty breakups," he says with a wide grin, slouching against his chair and lighting a cigarette. "So far, he's down to four, and with the same person, too."

"What the fuck?"

"Oh, it was a sight to behold," the Corinthian seems to recall fondly with a laugh.

Narrowing your arms, at him, you tease, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you fancied the nightmare, my dear old Nightmare, and friend."

He just shakes his head with a chuckle, wagging his finger at you and saying, "Now, don't go giving me any ideas." Straightening his glasses, he says, "And don't think you're out of the woods, either. So answer me this: how come you're still with that royal prick with a royal stick up his ass? What happened to your little fling?"

"What fling?" you ask offhandedly, turning your head to your left as you make out fast-approaching footsteps on the gravel.

"What the fu - you mean you don't -"

"M'lady, m'lady!"

The Corinthian is suddenly interrupted by Morwyn's frantic call. You see her sprint towards you, coming to an abrupt stop before you and the table and bowing before stating her piece.

"M'lady," she starts breathlessly, clutching her sides. "Your Majesty, the King of Dreams, requests your presence."

You and your nightmare friend share a look of understanding, before he cocks his head ever so slightly, urging you to give a response.

"Morwyn, I appreciate your effort," you finally respond to your attendant. "But, please tell my King that I must respectfully and politely decline."

Flashing Morwyn a wan smile, you quietly offer her a brownie from the feast on the table, which she shyly accepts with a tiny 'thank you.'

"But, m'lady, he'll be angry at me," she mutters before taking a tentative bite out of the brownie, adding, "He hasn't really been in a good mood lately."

The Corinthian gives you a gloating grin as he takes a drag out of his cigarette. It's a quiet challenge, and one you're not about to back down from.

"That is my doing, I'm afraid. And if he throws a fit, Morwyn, tell him he can come seek me, himself. I'll tell him the same, exact words, too."

But she doesn't make a move and stays standing there awkwardly, shuffling her feet in seeming nervousness.

"You'll be fine, Morwyn, you've done nothing wrong. Look, if it helps, you can say you tried to persuade me to come with you," you say in an assuring manner.

Nodding quietly, she whispers to herself, "Okay, I can do this, I can do this." She turns to you and excuses herself before running back to the palace to give the word to your master, who you imagine won't be too happy you turned him down.

Then again, he was never the type to take any kind of rejection lightly.

The Corinthian takes one final drag out of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it with his oxfords.

"Well, I better get going," he sighs as he gets on his feet. "Thanks for the coffee and the…fine spread you got there," he gestures to the half-finished sweets on the table.

"Where're you going?" you ask him with a pout as you lean on the table with one arm.

"I'm going back to work," he says with a cheeky grin as he straightens his coat. "And I wouldn't want to be caught in the eventual crossfire."

"Fine, go see that lovely little nightmare of yours," you say with just as much sass, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows in the process.

Turning his back, the Corinthian gives you the finger from behind him as he struts out of your sight.

Above you, the skies turn an ominous grey, signaling that Morywn has delivered your message with great success.

***

Dream was beside himself with anger when Morwyn came to him to tell of your rejection, and his foul mood had promptly manifested through a darkening of the skies in his realm, which later turned into a downpour.

He had given you what in his opinion was ample time for yourself and had even chosen to keep his distance, just so you could contemplate the gravity of your last exchange and come to terms with his decision. Obstinately, he stands by his word: he can never reinstate your dreaming abilities until he can fully trust you, which he knows could take time - at least until he's confident that the Chapman has been dealt with thoroughly.

He had been watching you through the eyes of Matthew share stories over coffee for the past few days. Based on the conversations he had overheard, you seemed to have developed some kind of bond with him, and within his heart, he felt jealousy start to slowly creep in; with his nightmare, you were chatty, you were laughing, and, dare he say, you were comfortable with him acting like yourself - something he selfishly wished he could have only to himself. Had he not given you enough reason to be more open around him that you had to always be hungry for the company of someone other than himself?

So, for days on end, he attempted to call upon you, sending your attendant to fetch you for himself, and he finds himself scorned each time, much to his chagrin.

He misses you. Sorely, terribly. He misses having to greet the Dreaming sunrise with your naked form in his arms; he misses kissing your lips and marking your skin; he misses the way you look at him with so much innocence in the presence of others, and how that look would transform to much more heated gazes in the privacy of his chambers; he misses the music you both make as you made love to each other into the wee hours of the night, and the gentle words you share as you bask in the afterglow. Even more so, he misses your wit and your fire, and even in those increasingly rare moments he sees your eyes light up in courage when you stand up to him. He misses you so much that his heart had started to wither away without so much as your presence; he had admittedly been quicker to anger at his subjects with each passing day without you, and now, as he sits on his throne, sulking, he hears once again of your refusal from a terrified Morwyn, whom he's slightly tempted to banish to the darkness just so he could get your attention. Instead, he sends her away without so much as a dark look - he knows it would displease you should you find out he had unmade your faithful attendant despite her innocence.

Once he's certain the throne room is empty save for himself, Dream of the Endless groans audibly in abject frustration. Through the eyes of his raven, he looks on at the scene in one of the palace rooms: his perfect nightmare, getting to his feet to return to his duties, and his perfect dream, you, waving a casual goodbye at your friend, huffing to yourself and donning on a morose expression at the loss of a conversation partner. This bubbling jealousy combined with his growing longing for you isn't doing him, his subjects, and his kingdom any favours. Huffing as you did, he severs his connection with Matthew and withdraws into himself further in deep thought.

You're bored, and he knows it; if you weren't in the library reading whatever books you could get your hands on or in the company of his nightmare, you were in your room by yourself, brooding. As much as he hates to admit it, he hadn't seen you in high spirits in a long time, and he is aware that the only way he could bring you back to your usual self is the one thing he has avoided giving you. One that you had pleaded with him for countless times and that he adamantly refused. Should he relent this time, how could he ensure you don't go seeking that mortal once your abilities are back at full strength? How could he orchestrate this in such a way that you'd be happy with your role and with him that you'd never have to chase your happiness from anyone else save from him?

His kingdom shakes ever-so-slightly at the resounding clap of thunder as Morpheus rubs his forehead in agitation. In need of a distraction, he steps away from his throne and descends the winding staircase, his thoughts drifting to that last time you had tried with your very best to entertain a dreamer who had wandered off that old castle. That child had somehow managed to single-handedly lift your mood when he could not so much as coax even the ghost of a smile from your lips then. Even before he witnessed the way you interacted with the child guests who found their way to your coronation party, he confirmed what he had always known: that you love children, and you have a way with them, just like a mother would.

Without meaning to, flashes of memories he had long since buried invade his thoughts, gnawing away at his cold exterior: that of joyous, ringing laughter echoing the halls of his palace; of a voice singing so wondrously to the tune of strings lovingly plucked from a harp; and of a face that so painfully reminded him of his.

Orpheus.

The mention alone of his son, now reduced to a mere talking head all because he, his own father, had denied him help when he had so desperately called to him, often pushed him into a sullen mood, but oddly enough, it doesn't have as much bite this time around. His imagination goes further, this time painting a picture of a child, a spitting image of him, down to the tufts of hair growing out of his tiny head, except his eyes, which light up the way yours do as his tiny fingers tug your hair with just as much stubbornness as his mother possesses; and you, a vision unlike anything he has ever seen, cuddling the child close to your heart as you lull him to sleep with a lullaby only you could sing.

Imaginary as the scene might be, he tucks it away in his heart and lets it warm him, and his realm, going along with him, rejoices in the first rays of sunlight it has seen in several days.

He had failed as a father once, and this time, redemption seems to call upon him, and with it, the hope of finally giving you the happiness and contentment you need to stay by his side for all time. With a child on the way, there would be no more doubt in your heart about where you truly belong. All you may need is persuasion.

***

With your nightmare friend, you find routine in the following days, chatting about all sorts of dreams and nightmares over coffee or tea, and sweets. Through the Corinthian, you lived your dream of one day being able to visit the sea of dreams again and form inspiration for the dreamers and be you, just as your creator had once intended.

He, too, had become part of this drill of yours. Your Lord, rudely enough in the middle of your conversation with your friend, would send your attendant to fetch you at his behest, and it had been part of your day to refuse the request with the most saccharin of tones. True, you and your company had to move from the gardens to one of the many parlours in the palace when it started raining; it had been a light shower at first, but the rain became heavier as your refusal to see him went on. It was clear he had wanted to give you the space you had needed for so long, but time apart from you seemed to sour his mood.

Not that you cared - as far as you were concerned, his royal moodiness could go fuck himself.

You let out a heavy sigh as you put down the book you've been reading. You've been at it since this late afternoon, having been refused flatly by Lucienne to help sort the new books. The colourful library windows then filtered the light of the setting sun, which somehow chose to appear just as you were beginning to read. Something had brightened your Lord's mood then, and whatever it was didn't seem to bode well for you.

The sun has now fully set, revealing the Dreaming skies' collection of glowing constellations. From your favourite couch, you get up, intent on going back to your chambers to call it a day, but a warning from the Voice makes you freeze in your spot.

Your Lord, in his pale countenance, emerges from among the library shelves with his hands behind his back and makes his way to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"My dream."

You had expected to see him seething in anger given how you had been brushing him off for the past days, not to mention your last conversation which hadn't gone well, but to your surprise and suspicion, his expression is soft, his tone almost pained, as if something is ailing him and he's trying to hide it as best he could.

"I missed you," he whispers, his voice faltering a little with emotion. "It has been seven days since I have…last seen you.

"We need to talk," he adds, his tone begging in the way words couldn't.

You give him the smallest of nods, and his sand engulfs both your forms at once, and when you open your eyes, you're back in his chambers. He doesn't pounce on you as he's always wont to do the moment he gets you alone in his chambers. He simply stands a few feet from you, willing his sand to clear before he states his piece:

"I have decided to restore your dreaming abilities."

Immediately, your eyes shoot up to his starry-blue ones - you must've misheard him, it couldn't be this easy to make him grant your wish…

Right?

"My Lord…are you -?"

"Yes."

You don't know whether to be elated or perplexed, so you settle with both, not knowing what to make of his sudden change of heart.

"Why, my Lord? Why change your mind?" You ask softly with a slight burrowing of your brows.

"Because you will grant me a boon in return."

Your Lord's mysterious words turn resolute all of a sudden - you narrow your eyes in your increasing confusion, and yet his eyes never betray a single emotion except one of absolute staunchness.

"My Lord," you start, carefully choosing your words. "I'm not sure I can give anything you don't already have."

He grins lightly at your words like your answer was one he's expected.

"That is not true. In fact, you are the only one in the Dreaming, and in the universe, that I see fit to grant me my wish."

He takes a few steps closer to you, giving you a full view of those swirling galaxies trapped in his eyes, and like the mere subject you are, you await the words of the otherworldly, godly being before you, transfixed in his beauty.

"I wish for you to bear me life. A child."

And under that celestial gaze of his, you feel your world crumbling and sinking in your gut, and inwardly you fight the urge to be sick before the glow of his eyes.

"No…"

"I understand your hesitation, my dream. But, grant me this, I shall let you roam the sea of dreams once more, and you shall craft dreams of inspiration, just like before," he says with a soft tone, caressing your cheek with his palm in assurance.

Still reeling inwardly from the gravity of his request, you gape at him disbelievingly, letting a few tense moments pass before you find your words.

"My Lord, you didn't give me the capacity for life when you created me," you state, ignoring his other hand running up and down your waist.

But, the tiny smirk on his face tells you he had been expecting this response from you, too.

"You are of my creation, and I can make it so," he declares as he lifts your chin with his fingers. "Our child will inherit the best of you, my dream – your tenacity, your wit, and your passion for my realm. Bear me a child, a son, and I will make him the overseer of all my dreams and nightmares."

Clearly, your Lord and master has been giving this a great deal of thought.

He will use the child to bind you to him further.

But, could you do it? Could you grant him his wish, knowing the Voice is right, and an innocent life may well just be a tool he could use to manipulate you in ways you have yet to discover?

Your Dream Lord's words and his hands wandering to the small of your back and the back of your neck bring you to focus.

"Give me your word now, and I shall grant you what you have been pining for all these months."

"A-and, if…if I ref-refuse?" You stammer, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden.

His grip on you tightens at your question - the hold he has on your back becomes more insistent, his hand behind your neck almost squeezing. You could see his eyes harden at your hypothetical rejection, once again displaying his inability to accept 'no' for an answer.

"You would deny me, and in turn, deny yourself what you've been yearning for?" He asks incredulously. "I have been watching you and the Corinthian talk about dreams, my Mera, and I sense nothing but longing in these conversations. Now, I will not ask again: bear my child, our child, and you shall be you once more."

But, being able to form dreams again, meeting new dreamers and helping them find their passion, and in turn, themselves - there will be a slew of Ethans and Carries who don't have to live their life an empty shell, and you'd be there to make a difference, no matter how small.

And you'd finally have a purpose besides spreading your legs for him when he pleases - it would be one you wouldn't mind fulfilling for the rest of your eternity in his kingdom.

What is it going to be, Mera?

Yet, your Lord knows he does not have to wait for a response - in fact, he fully encases you in an embrace and locks your lips in a bruising kiss to prove this point. His mouth probes inside yours hungrily, repeatedly rolling his tongue on yours as he lifts your body and makes you instinctively wrap your thighs around his midriff and your arms around his neck. He takes both your intertwined forms to his bed at once without wasting time, and in a flash, both your clothes dissolve into fine grains of sand, which too, disappears at his will. His hands roam your bare form with much urgency while his mouth sucks in your lower lip and gently nips it with his teeth.

He then starts attacking your neck with fervour, alternating between open-mouthed kisses and little bites that sting your skin but bring heat surging between your legs. Your breathing turns fast and shallow as his lips ghost over your ear.

"Seven days I was starved of you," he whispers, his hot breath fanning your ear and making you feel light-headed. "You will make up for it."

Promise or threat: with your Lord, it doesn't matter - he does as he wishes, as always - distracting you from your thoughts are the hands that squeeze your breasts with a force that makes your breath hitch. You could brush away those hands, even try to struggle against the body pressing on yours, but truth be told, you're getting exhausted trying to every time he forces to into bed with him, only for him to have his way in the end.

Is it still worth the struggle?

But you never find the answer - instead what you find is your Lord's finger parting the increasingly wet folds between your thighs as he bites your shoulder with surprising strength, earning a sharp cry from you. Perhaps he sensed your distraction; and no, he couldn't have that, never - not when he's taking you.

Panting heavily, you feel him insert a finger inside you, and your body accepts it readily, making a wet sound as it does. You begin moaning softly with the way his finger pumps in and out of you, and he pulls away to get a full view of you, falling apart in his power.

With a blazing look, he teases, "I have half a mind to let you starve as I did..."

He places a second finger inside your walls, brushing over your spot in the process. You buck your hips against his hand when his thumb presses on your clit, and your head falls back on the pillow.

"Just so I could hear you beg for mercy."

His skilful hands repeatedly brush over your spot while simultaneously massaging your clit, and your hips start meeting his, building up the pleasure, but just when you're almost at your peak, you feel his fingers withdraw.

"My Lord, please…" you sob into your pillow, your hands reaching up to him in despair.

"Eager, aren't we? Will you admit you were longing for my touch as well, my dream?"

With a whimper you look up at his face - he wears a smug expression as if he's found the answer to his question, but it was far from the truth and you know it in your heart.

"And from now on, you will call me by my name, especially in the confines of our chambers. Now tell me what it is you seek."

He parts your legs further with one hand while the other softly caresses your cheek, and once more a whimper passes through your lips. You feel him align his hardened length at your entrance, but he doesn't push.

But your body couldn't wait any longer.

"Please, Lord Morpheus, torture me no more," you beg softly, meeting his anxious eyes. "I want you inside me."

And without wasting time, he buries himself fully inside your core to the hilt, its suddenness making you release a strangled noise, but as he withdraws his cock and pushes it back in, you find relief, and in a daze, you start meeting his hips with yours just so you could feel him more. Your Lord takes your thighs and hooks them around his waist to deepen his thrusts, while he picks up a pace that makes you scream hoarsely it echoes in his chambers. You know the moment he starts hitting your sweet spot, you're done for. You meet his unforgiving thrusts as best as you can and he brings your bodies close, desperate to feel more of you while he captures your lips with his in a frenzy. You dig your nails into his back, leaving scratches on his pale skin. You moan in his mouth while your hand reaches to your folds to touch yourself for the first time, massaging and pressing on your clit to help find a quicker release.

But your Lord notices this - he pulls away from the kiss and harshly grabs your hands so he could pin them above your head.

"Do that again and I will deny you release for a week, just like you've done to me," he all but growls against your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine. "You will come when I command you so."

He continues pounding into you with a force that blurs the line between pain and pleasure, and in no time, you could feel yourself dissolving into bliss, reduced to nothing but sharp cries and desperate pleas.

"Lord M-Morpheus," you breathe amidst your wanton moans filling his chambers. "Please, I need…I need to…"

"Say it, little dream of mine."

"Morph-fuck, Morpheus, please, make me come, I beg you, please," you draw out raspily, not caring about your language or how you sound. You focus on your master, your creator, drawing out your suffering, until finally -

"Then, come for your King, little dream."

At his command, you shatter beneath him like glass exploding into a thousand pieces, unbearable pleasure coursing through your veins, and you scream his name like a prayer until your throat hurt - but unlike other gods, he's there, anchoring you to him and hearing your prayers, responding to them with a tender kiss to your lips.

You grow limp as your orgasm ebbs away, and your Lord effortlessly turns you to your stomach. You had been expecting this because he hasn't found his release yet, and, persistent with his goal, his hard cock finds itself inside you once again, his thrusts more forceful than the last. His body encloses yours, his chest touching your back, as his mouth lavishes the back of your neck. With his hands bringing your hips flush to his, you find yourself close to your second undoing in no time, mewling sinfully in sync with your Lord's grunts and the cacophony of flesh desperate to meet together.

"Perfect…you're so perfect for me, so tight for your King," he rasps against your reddened skin.

You're so close, but it's also starting to hurt, so you come for him the second he commands you, much more intense than the last, wishing you could take him with you, but it isn't to be, for he doesn't wait for you to catch your breath.

With his skilful manoeuvre of your bodies, you wind up facing him once more, your hands pinned above your head.

Your Lord, dipping his head so close your noses touch, whispers, his eyes containing blazing supernovas that engulf you:

"Once I am done with you, you will have life inside you - my son - you will be round with my child in months, and then you will truly accept your place with me. You are mine, mine alone - no one else can have you."

This time, he pulls your bodies ever closer, your nipples brushing against his chest with even the slightest movement. You could feel the warmth emanating from his body, and the scent of your union finally invading your senses. You could feel your blood pounding in your ears, the marks he left on your skin stinging more than ever before - and his hardened length being continuously slammed inside your increasingly numbing core - everything becomes too much all of a sudden, and like a veil lifted from your eyes, the haze from the lust is replaced by sheer panic.

You start sobbing heavily and thrashing against him, but like always, it's no use - and he takes, continues taking you, despite the pleas, the prayers you thought he'd heed; all you hear from is his groans of pleasure every time he pounds on you, and the word, one you've heard many times, but now being rubbed to your face anew:

Mine, mine, mine.

"Please, no, Lord Morpheus, please, stop, stopstopstop…"

But he doesn't; he never does, never will. You don't come anymore, and he no longer commands you to - in your distress, you couldn't anymore, and he knows it. When his orgasm hits him, you're actually hit with relief, but even that was short-lived: roaring into the night, he loses his rhythm, and as he fills you to the brim with his scorching hot seed, his erratic pumps send jolts of electricity invading your every nerve, and you lay there, limp and sobbing piteously, hurting everywhere, just taking it all I until he's done.

And you feel it - life burrowing inside you, swirling, barely perceptible, but it's there: your child, his child, clinging onto you for the very first time...

Your Lord doesn't pull out, not yet; bring your foreheads together, breath fanning your face, he says, ever-so-softly:

"Do you feel it, my love, my life, my dream? Our son, our heir, our proof of love?"

With a choked sob, you nod, reality hitting you like a sharp slap to the face. It's proving all too much for you and with a whisper only you could hear, the Voice gives you the gentlest of prompts:

Sleep.

And you do, but not before you feel a soft, feathery kiss on your forehead - your Lord, bidding you, and the life you both formed, a kiss good night.

***

You barely register the way your Lord stirs at the first rays of sunlight that enter his realm. Embracing you from behind, he plants a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder, then on your neck, before moving to your cheek, his hand ghosting over your abdomen. He bids you farewell for the day to attend to his duties, but after he leaves, you drift back to sleep, having been drained of energy from last night.

The next time you come to, Morwyn greets you with your usual tray of breakfast, except, aside from the coffee you're partial to, your tray holds a six-inch carrot cake topped with cream cheese frosting, with the word 'congratulations' written in blue icing. She then smiles shyly at you, revealing the entire kingdom to be overjoyed at the coming of their little prince.

You smile at her, holding out your hand in thanks, which she takes, giggling excitedly.

"I'm going to finally have a little boy to dress up. I promise I'll make him look as princely as he can be," she says in a jovial tone, before excusing herself to draw your bath.

It takes every ounce of willpower in you not to scream yourself hoarse and heave on an empty stomach.

And you know you had to keep up the act too - you meet Mervyn the Pumpkinhead on your way downstairs, wiping the staircase railings. With a tip of his hat, he greets you in his usual fashion.

"It has been a while since we've seen little runts running about the halls causing a ruckus," he comments through the lit cigar lodged in his orange mouth. "Knowing you, kid, that child might just be the end of me."

He goes on cleaning the rest of the marble railing, whistling tunelessly, unaware of that inner storm brewing inside you. You start wishing you wouldn't meet anyone else on your way to the library, but of course, there's Lucienne, whose smile, as effervescent as ever, greets you the moment you reach your favourite reading place. But it isn't just her that's waiting - spread on your favourite coffee table, spilling all over the floor and across the leather sofas, are packages upon packages, some wrapped in dainty, intricate ribbons, some painted in shades of colour an artist would drool over, and letters, mountains of them, all addressed to you, and to the little prince who you had only conceived the night before.

But, why, and how?

Lucienne, ever the sharper one between the both of you, clarifies, "They're tokens, greeting cards - well-wishes to the princess and the little prince, sent from all over the universe, and I don't see them stopping anytime soon.

"Congratulations, my Lady," she says, her voice breaking up in unadulterated joy, clasping your hands in hers.

You both spend the rest of the morning opening them and sorting them out, and by the time your scheduled meeting with your nightmare friend comes around, you barely make a dent in all the presents and the cards.

When Morwyn arrives to fetch you and tell you that the garden has been set up, you're glad to finally get an excuse to break away from the sickening, celebratory air the presents brought about.

At least your next company would give you less bullshit.

And so you sit on the garden chair, with a sprawling feast of sweets you had no appetite for indulging in, downing coffee like it would somehow make everything feel better (it doesn't).

"I thought coffee was bad for you," your friend drawls as he makes his approach, sitting on the chair before you. He pours himself a cup of coffee from the porcelain kettle.

"Everything will be bad for me in a few months," you say flatly as you cross your arms and slouch on your seat. "How did you find out?"

"Word travels fast here, princess," he replies with a shrug. "You probably had enough of this by now, so I won't say 'congratulations.'"

It turns out that's all it takes for you to break.

You couldn't control the onslaught of tears that escape the corner of your eyes, and thankfully, your friend makes no mention of it, no matter how uncomfortably he squirms in his chair. For you, it seems, he endures the next few minutes with only your quiet sniffling to break the awkward silence.

Eventually, you find the words you wanted to say.

"I could've stopped him, but I didn't, and now I have him."

The Corinthian, cursing under his breath, lights up a cigarette, and responds, "I'm not good at this, I usually make them cry, not the other way around." With a grin that comes out more of a grimace, he continues, "But uh…if it makes you feel any better, princess, you couldn't have stopped him. No one can. His kingdom, his rules; and there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

You wipe your tears with the sleeve of your dress in a very unladylike-like manner before belatedly grabbing the napkin on your side of the table. "You're right, as always," you softly remark, finally willing your tears to stop.

"Hey, think of it this way; if that kid is anything like you, he'll give Morpheus one hell of a time."

Apparently, that's all it takes for you to lighten up, too.

He laughs along with you, while a scene plays out in your head: the image of a kid, hair as black as his father's, puking on the Dream King's shirt - it's a scene you gladly tuck away in the recesses of your mind.

"It's not like I got the short end of the stick," you comment in a lighter tone, deciding to sample one of the lemon bars on the spread. "I got my dreaming abilities back."

"Ah, so you are getting something out of this besides the sex."

You shoot him a half-hearted glare, but you end up shaking your head as your grin grows wider. "So, finally, I get to meet that nightmare you're fawning over, granted, you'll let me come with you."

"No one's fawning over anyone, princess, and I wouldn't want to be around to watch whatever cheesy shit you craft," he flippantly responds as he picks a chocolate truffle on the table and puts it in his mouth. Is that what it looks like when he eats eyeballs, you vaguely wonder to yourself.

He gets to his feet, stomping on the cigarette butt he throws on the ground. He makes a motion with his head, urging you to follow him.

Together, you walk a path you have been looking forward to walking along, and at the end of it, your most coveted prize:

The sea of dreams.

With a two-finger salute, the Corinthian dives ahead of you, presumably to meet with Sumnio. You take a second to yourself to look around the calm, blue waters, seeing nothing beneath it as you peek into the depths below. Satisfied with what you see, you dive headfirst, just like the first time you did so, except, this time, without the comforting hand that you no longer needed.

The waters are full of everything the dreamers have to offer, but unlike the first time, you don't get overwhelmed with the entire collective unconscious of the whole of humanity - with expertise, your senses hone in on a dreamer you had intended on helping even before you had gotten your powers back; a dreamer whose future you could finely sculpt now that your dream-forming abilities are back at full strength.

And you land, with the grace of the princess, on the fantasy world that Ethan had built. A few feet away from you is the Conqueror of Dragons and Commander of Legions, but he does not notice your arrival - he's busy fighting what looks like an ogre ten times his size with a long dagger, much likr the one you had once handed to him.

Cracking your knuckles delightedly, you get to work.

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

Aside from the very busy sched lately, it's the smut here that got me stumped. Sorry for the delay and ILY all!!

******************************

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 1/29/22

Edit date: 1/29/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

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sevengraces · 7 months

Text

someday I'm gonna be somebody people want

You, ch2, Title Card

AO3 Link

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Tim slowly stiffened as he came back into himself. He was curled up in Jasons lap, with his head shoved under the older mans’ chin and his face buried in his neck. His hands were gripping the back of Jasons’ jacket like he belonged there and there were half dried tears all over the both of them. Jason had his arm wrapped around him and his other hand was running though his hair. Casually, he pressed a kiss onto the top of Tims’ hair, still speaking softly throughout it all.

-or-

Nobody ever deals well with loneliness, but certain people are probably worse at it and certain people probably deal with it more often. Tim is of course both of these people.

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

Hello, this is complete and I might just post it all at once, we shall see lol. First DC post at all tbh, and I've read exactly one comic in my life and am not likely to read more so if you are a canon type of reader then you might not wanna be here. All character and such choices come from the first Red Robin comic and fanfiction, that is it. The fic title is from Noah Kahan "Come Over" and the chapter title is from Dodie "All My Daughters" - I picked the songs and lyrics for the titles from a playlist I made abt Tim Drake and these were the best fits for the fic lol, lemme know if you want more Tim Drake song recs cause I've got a shit ton.

(also if you're here for my series in progress I'm sorry- I promise it'll happen just maybe not for awhile, it hasn't been my special interest in a hot minute so this is what you're getting rn lol)

CW's/TW's:

panic attacks negative self talk/low self esteem swearing vomit mentions of canon typical violence suicidal thoughts --- that should be all but as always let me know if I missed something

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Chapter 1- I'll grow the bones myself then, on my own again

Tim has pretty much always known, in the way that clever children tend to know things, that there is possibly something wrong with how his parents raised him. Objectively an eleven year old shouldn’t know to lie about who is and isn’t home to avoid trouble, but being alone suited him. It was convenient and necessary and normal and understandable and utterly, utterly miserable. But growing up a lonely child suited him in the same way that grief suited Batman, terrible but necessary.

Batman has only gotten better at grief and Tim thinks, as an emancipated minor in the silence of his blank apartment with big windows and echoey walls, that perhaps he has perfected the art of the lonely child.

Regardless of how suited he is to isolation, he knows he grows maudlin the longer it lasts. It’s a poor excuse for his weak will, but as he stands in his sparkling penthouse kitchen silently making his third cup of coffee this morning he considers.

Tim braces his elbows on the solid marble countertop with his eyes closed to the harsh fluorescent lights and the echoes of his mothers’ sharp nails in his arm and he considers picking up the phone. He could call someone- anyone at all, in an effort to avoid this sinking sensation he’s fled from since he was nine years old with nothing but everything he’d ever needed and a camera to keep him sated. Someone might even answer, depending on who he called.

It is ten in the morning on an entirely unremarkable Saturday. The sun is resting comfortably in the sky, his phone is fully charged, he knows where everyone he has ever cared about is, and he could call anyone.

Tim opens his eyes and stretches out an arm across the countertop towards his phone, hesitating slightly before making contact but pushing through nonetheless. He flicks it on and ignores every single notification with the heavy awareness that not a single one of them is from anyone who actually wants to talk to him, he taps through the apps before reaching the dial screen and he places the phone face up on the countertop and breathes.

He stands straight from where he had been bent over, carrying his coffee with him through the rest of the kitchen. He doesn’t open the fridge, there’s nothing in there anyways. Tim takes even steps until he reaches the far window of the living room where he leans against it and slides down slowly.

Once he’s rested against the floor with his fresh coffee cradled in his hands he leans his head against the cool glass and considers his options.

He could call Cass, she’d probably answer him. Mostly because he never calls unless there’s a world ending disaster, but she would answer him. After the hurried reassurance that “No Cass, nothings wrong- I just wanted to talk” she would probably let him ramble on about whatever he could come up with for awhile before she pointed out in that simple, honest way of hers that they didn’t talk like this and she knows he didn’t call just to make small talk. She would stare at his face through the screen and wait for his explanation, she would stare and wait for him to lie. Once he did, because he always did- what else could he even do? She would watch his body tense, she would follow the lines of anxiety like a roadmap, until every petty insecurity was written plain as sin on his face. And then she would accept the lie like it didn’t hurt, like she didn’t know. They would talk and maybe even have an okay time, then something would happen in Hong Kong and she’d have to go or WE would explode in some new way and he would have to go. Either way the call would end and Tim would be alone again in his pristine, lifeless apartment except this time someone else would know how badly he wanted to claw off his skin in the hopes of finding whatever was deeply wrong with him.

Tim laughed like a rusty hinge and took a sip of coffee. To no fault of her own, Cass couldn’t help him- he ignored the fact that the only solid feeling he’d had in days was that nothing and no one could help him.

There was always someone a little less discerning, like Dick. The man could flay him alive, but it would be entirely unintentional and oblivious on his part. He could call Dick and he might answer. Of course it was a Saturday morning so he was probably either asleep or with Damian, and Tim didn’t want to wake him up or deal with the building tension as he waited for Dick to hang up because the demon brat needed something at that exact minute. There was the chance he was hanging out by himself at his own apartment in Bludhaven, but even Tim could only intrude on the older mans’ personal space and time so often. No, Tim knew with a bone deep certainty that he could not handle this call going to voicemail or being cut short because Tim was the easiest burden to leave behind.

He carefully placed his coffee mug on the floor next to him and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, watching the spots burst into being and fade out slowly.

For obvious reasons he wasn’t going to call Damian. For all that he was eleven years old and impossible to deal with, Tim didn’t want to be the type of person who needed a teenager to regulate his emotions for him. The boy knew how that felt first hand- and even if he’d walked into Robin with his eyes open to the consequences, he’d been pushed out with his eyes a little wider and his chest a little hollower for more reasons than most wanted to believe. No matter how snot nosed the demon brat was, that kid had spent too long playing at being an adult and he deserved better than that from Tim, at least. Tim doggedly ignored the fact that he himself had only been a little older than Damian is now when he’d yanked on the mantle with two hands and the determination of a desperate child, he also ignored the fact that Damian would skin him alive for thinking such thoughts even tangentially to thoughts of the boy himself.

The seventeen year old grabbed blindly for his coffee and took a long drink. He had a feeling he knew exactly where this thought exercise was going, but Tim had never been one to give up. Not when he really should, not when it would’ve been easier for everyone involved, and not when it was pointless. He had been good at the suspension of disbelief long before he’d joined the crusade, and he was loathe to break a bad habit.

If not Cass, Dick, or Damian to call- there was always Jason. Tim choked back a snort and stared at the empty wall next to the front door, yes there was always Jason. It was maybe a little unfair to think so poorly of the older boy, but it was too easy for Tim to think highly of him and he had fallen from those heights a few times more often than he’d care to admit. It wasn’t that Jason wasn’t kind or even that he was unwilling to talk to Tim these days, it was more-so that he’d never stopped trying to impress the older man and peeling back his flesh to show Jason the slimy, unlikable parts and then ask to be coddled was a level of desperate that he shuddered to think of reaching. Of course Jason had never been one to coddle Tim in general, which was a generous way of putting it. But despite it all, Jason was a good person and lately seemed if not interested in Tim then vaguely affectionate towards the concept of him- he would probably answer on principle. But how was Tim to even start that conversation? “Hi Jason, I know we literally only talk when we’re working or when Dick gets it in his head that all of us being Robin at some point means something, but I was wondering if you would talk with me about something that wasn’t either mutually traumatizing or how much you hate me. Why? So that I can pretend that someone would choose to be around me, that’s all.” Yeah probably not the best idea he’s had to date.

Tim chewed his lips and pretended that his breathing wasn’t getting heavier the shorter his list of options got. He barreled forward with his mug between his feet and his head between his knees.

Alfred had never once refused a call, with the only recompense being the subtle implications that he really ought to join them for dinner more often. Tim could call Alfred and the man would answer. He would answer and reserve judgement, even more- he would be perfectly willing to bring Tim up to speed on everything he’d missed since the two had last spoken. He would fill him in like it was nothing and with no disapproval to be heard. Alfred was really his best option but nonetheless the boy refused to move towards his phone, still face up and turned on across the room. Alfred had never turned down any overtures of companionship, at least not since Tim had been allowed into the circle as Robin, but he’d also never really reached out to him of his own volition. Tim had always told himself it was the older mans sense of propriety, but what if it was that same sense of propriety that kept him on the line? Tim was lonely, sure, but he didn’t want to take advantage of the fact that Alfred had been attached to the Wayne name for longer than even Bruce had been alive and Tim had latched onto the family like a burr or a mold. The boy wasn’t sure he could handle being placated either, he’d met plenty of people employed under his parents and if today was the day Tim noticed how similar their vacant indulgence was to Alfreds’ steadfast professionalism he would probably break in irreparable ways.

He forcibly calmed his breathing and glared at the mug between his ankles. He ignored how that feeling from earlier had strengthened and barricaded itself in his chest and was making it hard to focus on his heartbeats.

There was Stephanie, one of his oldest and long-lasting companions. He could call her but she was pretty likely to be busy and thus not answer or be rightfully angry and thus not answer. He would have no way of knowing except that he knew which one was most likely if only based on historical precedence. He had been a bad boyfriend but a better friend- that of course didn’t mean much, it wasn’t a particularly hard bar to clear after all. Even disregarding all of their history, Tim hadn’t really spoken to Steph since blowing into town with ninjas on his heels and animosity between them a mile wide. They still hadn’t really sat down and talked about everything from her death, the gang war, and his radio silence during his search for Bruce. It felt wrong to call her up like none of that had happened and she still wanted him around as anything other than a competent yet obnoxious coworker.

The thought of Steph ached like a bruise and that pain only compounded the marching drumbeat in his chest that called out in gleeful tones "Not wanted, not wanted" and so Tim snuffed it like the wick of a bomb and moved onward once more.

Babs was always available, somehow. She made a point to keep a line open for any capes in the Gotham area no matter how frosty the personal relationship had gotten. But that was for professional things, and Tim didn’t know if he could deal with reaching out to her for comfort only for her to remind him exactly how they’d left things. He’d had a case related theory- Bruce wasn’t dead. Dick had disagreed, Barbara had disagreed, everyone had disagreed. Tim had pushed and Dick had taken it both personally and poorly, that moved things from a professional dispute between allies to a personal spat between the nosy neighbor and her long time closest companion. There was no version of reality where Babs chose Tim over Dick, honestly there probably wasn’t a version of reality where anyone chose Tim over anyone they even vaguely liked- let alone loved. It would be absurd to expect her to push past how he’d hurt Dick, even though he’d been right, and it was impossible for Tim to push past how she’d left him to fend for himself out of spite despite the fact that he should’ve expected it and known better.

Tim was trying hard not to catastrophize, he knew that was what it was actually called when he came up with one thousand plans with ten backup versions each, but it was so tempting to script his conversations so that nothing could go wrong. It was nearly fool proof and most of the time it felt like it was almost worth the consequence of looking in the mirror and having his gaze drawn to how his mothers eyes and bone structure fit comfortably on his face. There was always the chance that someone would see his railroading for what it was, but Young JustUs and Steph had been the only people to do so in any meaningful way.

There was nothing stopping him from call Kon, Bart, or Cassie. Well, that was almost true- Kon would answer but he had better things to do than hold his hand through the consequences of his self-imposed isolation. The super was just barely on good terms with Clark and testing the waters of a brotherly relationship with Jon- he had actual, real problems to deal with that didn’t have anything to do with the sort of best friend that had gone insane when he died and tried to clone him back to life. Bart was in a similar boat in that he definitely shouldn’t have to help someone who was somehow less emotionally adjusted than him handle reality. The speedster was beginning to settle back into this time period, and seemed to be believing in the permanence of it in a way he hadn’t before he’d died. Tim didn’t need to shake that up just because he was coping poorly with his own decisions. Cassie was an entirely different situation that Tim was in no way equipped to handle with competency. How do you ask your ex-girlfried/bestfriend/group life partner to tell you she still cares about you when your last proper conversation was her telling you how insane you’d gone and you telling her that you didn’t need her anymore- you don’t, that’s how.

Even though Young JustUs had been prepared to be together until the heat death of the universe, Tim should’ve known better than to hang his hopes on something as flimsy as that. People simply didn’t stay with Tim, which was something he’d learned at the age of ten when his parents had skipped every holiday that year (and his birthday) without comment or apology, he just knew that ten year old would be embarrassed at how far he’d fallen just because some people had been nice to him for a little while. He should’ve known better then and he did know better now.

Bruce was alive and in the correct time so he should be an option, but even Tim wasn’t that delusional. The man was still settling into the modern day and his new family dynamics that had changed without him. True, he was Batman again and Damian was his Robin- but the demon brat still deferred to Dick more often than not and Dick was a little too smug about such preferential treatment to discourage it in any meaningful way. Not that Dick was particularly good at discouraging the boy of any behaviors even when he didn’t enjoy the results but, water and bridges and such. Bruce was chafing under his performative authority and thus going on some sort of family building kick as a consequence. He would definitely answer, but Tim wasn’t sure he could withstand any sort of relationship they built getting thrown to the side once this little tantrum ended. This call would mean too much to Tim and be nothing more than bragging rights or blackmail for Bruce, there was a reason he was the bottom of the list.

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne was sitting on the floor of his perfect apartment with his head between his knees and a recently emptied coffee mug next to him when he realized, with a sharp exhale like a punch to the gut, that it didn’t matter.

He shot up from his perch, kicking the mug across the room to shatter against the wall, and he laughed. He laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. He laughed so hard he choked and shook and began to sob. Here he was, freaking out in his stupid apartment in ways he hadn’t since the first time his parents left him home alone for more than a week, and for what reason? He had known this little spectacle wouldn’t mean anything but tears in the end, what was his fascination with self-torture that he’d needed to break it down on a person by person basis like it wasn’t a foregone conclusion as of four years ago when he’d wedged his way into this doomed mission with nothing but empty hands and spite. His sobbing picked up volume and his breathing got sharper.

In some distant way Tim was aware that he was having a panic attack. A pretty bad one, if the crying and shaking had anything to say about it. But in that same distant way he didn’t really care. He was watching himself choke on his tears so hard that he had to curl over and vomit on the hardwood floors and he couldn’t bring himself to feel any type of way about it. What did it matter if he choked to death on his vomit in this perfect, sterile penthouse all by himself? Wasn’t it a little poetic, in a morbid sort of way?

If it wasn’t for the fact that Janet Drake had no physical choice, she would’ve skipped his birth just like his father had- she probably would’ve avoided his birth happening all together if they’d had their way. They’d left him alone as soon as they could get away with it, and he’d wasted away his years waiting for them to come back and acknowledge that they had a son. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he died choking on the physical manifestation of his loneliness in an apartment that reminded him too much of his childhood home to ever be comfortable?

Tim- not Drake or Wayne, just Tim-Nobodies-Son, spread out on his freezing floors and tried to breathe through the suddenly overwhelming urge to see if a second fall from a window would do the job. He tried to beat back the echoing voice that seemed to emanate from the middle of his chest, that had graduated from “not wanted” to “never wanted”, because he could see the next escalation coming from a mile away and he knew there was nobody there to stop it but him- like always. And ever so slowly his tears dried, tacky and embarrassing, and his shame returned to him like his coffee had just a moment ago.

He sighed loud and long, “What am I even doing? I’m lucky dad is dead- at least he doesn’t get to see exactly how right he was.”

As the boy kneaded the tension from his forehead he noticed a clicking sound that, in hindsight, had been echoing around his walls for quite awhile.

And then Jason Todd, in all his murderous glory, was standing in his doorway with lock picks in hand and an unreadable expression on his face.

#fanfic #tim drake #dc universe #batman #red robin #Jason Todd #mentioned batfamily #hurt/comfort #grace is writing

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neptoons1998 · 1 year

Text

Rolling dough

Chapter one

Chapter two

A/N: I hope I'm not late tomorrow for work lol. Super sorry it isn't beta, I come back to fix it later, but it wouldn't leave me alone all day today. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Chapter three: Strawberry Frosted

Confectioners sugar, blended fresh strawberries, and a little vanilla extract. It’s important to totally pulverize the strawberries into a near-liquid consistency.

Okoye was many things to different people. But to many she was resilient. She would always come back stronger than ever, or at least that’s what most of her family members thought. Okoye would be lying by saying to buy into that myth about her too. She was is like a rooted tree, unmoving and unchanging. But ever since that “incident” happen, in her pristine wedding dress waiting for a man who was never going to show. Okoye restored back to what she used to when she was little. Avoiding. Was that the best thing to do for a thirty-two-year-old to do, most likely not; but Okoye would rather avoid harmful things in her past rather than face it.

“Hey, when’s your mystery man coming?” Aneka asked her. She was the only one who hasn’t met Attuma. Aneka was feeling left out and based on the group chat the description of him from Shuri and Ayo wasn’t enough to tie her over.

Okoye felt a vein on her left temple pulsing, would it be wrong of me to kick her out today? Okoye thought before pulling up her ladder to the shelf, where they kept all their extra frosting for the donuts at. The shop has a custom order of strawberry frosted donuts. No, not yet..maybe after she does at least half the batch of donuts then kick her out, Okoye’s mind reasoned. She knew she could make two hundred frosted donuts by herself and it wasn’t like Aneka had anything better to do.

“Like I told you, my sister, and Shuri. He isn’t my man,” Okoye replied as she slowly came off the ladder, and placed the container of frosting on top of the worktable.

“Yet,” Aneka leaned over the worktable like a cat, lazed about as if she didn’t have any work. Okoye breathes through her nose, “There’s not yet nothing.”

“Not with that mindset,” Aneka complained, “You know how I got my lovely Ayo to say yes to a date with me?”

“By holding her hostage?” Okoye commented Ayo glowered at her. When I make a joke nobody finds it funny Okoye shook her head.

Ayo rolled her eyes at her, “You’re not funny. No, what I did, I walked straight up to her in and said are you free Saturday?”

“Really?” Okoye being skeptical, “That’s not how Ayo tells the story.”

“What did she say?" Her sister asked.

“She said some girl was following her around the university. And anytime she would try to talk to her the girl would run away,” Okoye responds to her sister-in-law.

Aneka stood up straight looking flustered, “Well… that was at the beginning beginning. I’m talking about when we finally started hanging out.”

Okoye surpassed a laugh, “Whatever you have to say to yourself to sleep better at night.”

Aneka gritted her teeth, “Look I know you think we’re a little overbearing but it’s with a reason.”

“I know,” Okoye said, “And just like everyone else. I’m fine and I always bounce back.”

“Are you bouncing back or is it avoiding?” She asked, “Cause where I am sitting. I see the twenty-seven Okoye in her wedding dress waiting for some shit of a man that too scary to tell her he didn’t want to marry her.”

“What’s your point?” Okoye is irritated by this subject. Can’t they see that she moving on? Okay so she’s not married like her cousins and sister so what? Marriage isn’t for everyone, Okoye just needed some time to understand that. She knew she was a laughingstock in her family, but at least everyone saved face until she left the room. That’s why she hadn’t visited her family in six months too afraid to see the failure in her parents’ eyes. God forbid Auntie Ramonda, which would be way worst. Okoye had never been so grateful that most of their family lived in South Carolina, until recently.

“My point is that. It’s okay that you don’t want to get your feet wet just yet but don’t take forever either,” Aneka voiced out hoping it would reach Okoye. She knew she was still an outsider to her lover’s family but she would be lying if she wasn’t rooting for her sister-in-law’s love life.

“And I have twenty dollars riding that you guys get a move on,” Aneka commented wanting to get away from the heavy subject.

“Just start working on the donuts,” Okoye grumbled. She hoped that Aneka would understand enough to know she apprenticed the kind words.

Attuma made the decision. It took a couple of days but he decided to keep the gym. Based what it needed were some new pieces of equipment and a paint job; and the gym would be up and running.

“Well I’m off,” Namora said placing her suitcase to her side, before giving her little cousin a hug, “If you need any help call me.”

“I will,” Attuma said hugging his cousin back, “Call me when you get home.”

Namora nodded at the statement, “Ugh,” As she ended the hug, “Good thing you’re keeping the gym because you have eaten way too many donuts.”

“I’m just a big boy,” Attuma countered back as he patted his belly. Quite as it kept Namora ate way more of the donuts than Attuma. Attuma liked where his teeth were, so no comment.

“Or you tell the owner you like them and ask on a date?” when Attuma didn’t say anything in her response, Namora rolled her eyes, yeah it’s time for me to go home, “Whatever. Ya later, cousin.”

And with that, his older cousin left him; All of a sudden he was craving deep-fried bread. So he started making his way to Runaway Donuts.

“Oh!” Aneka was sweeping looking busy until Okoye came back when a customer open the door. Aneka let out a surprised gasp almost tripping over her feet as she came closer to the giant of a man, “You must be Attuma.”

“I am,” Attuma said still confused as continued talking to the stranger.

“I’m Aneak, Okoye is my sister,” Aneak walked around him before going back to the register, “They were not kidding in the group chat.”

“Group chat?”

“Nothing nothing,” Aneka waved her hand as if she was shooing a pesty fly, “What can I get you, today?”

That was new, normally Okoye was just giving him a box of donuts, and he would buy them, “I don’t really know.”

“It was true, “Aneka muttered under her breath. Okoye would just make a box and he’ll just take it.

“I can give you some time to think about it?” She said telling the man know he would take his time. Attuma nodded there were a lot of decisions but not the one he wanted.

“Do you know where Okoye is at?”

“Okoye? Yeah she had to go to the bank, she should be back sometime later,” Aneka

Attuma clicked his tongue, “I can wait.”

And with that Attuma sat in one of the too-small booths for him as he waited for Okoye. While Aneka was texting in a separate group chat without Okoye to tell the others what was happening.

#i wrote this instead of sleeping #okoye x attuma fanfiction #attuma x okoye #general okoye #attuma of talokan #attoye #my fanfic writing #writing exercise

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lightlycareless · 7 months

Note

how about a little spoiler for the next chapter 🤭🤭( but not too little )

Heya anon! Of course!! As usual, here's the first page :> or a bit more, kind of like 2. Depends of the typography lol.

It's the halloween special, my favorite chapter... 😭❤️

Spoilers for chapter 40 under the cut:

While yet to begin the day, you’d wake up with the sensation that the estate was eerily silent for no reason, a calm ambience that made you feel like you could hear what was happening on the other side of the estate if you were attentive enough…

A sensation that also seemed to extend to the staff, due to the lack of footsteps rushing from one side of the living quarters to the other, almost as if they’ve already tended to all the duties for the day, and now, had free time for themselves.

There was even a time where you thought it impossible for the Zen’in estate to have a calm day, especially since you were the most controversial figure there, yet, here you are, admiring a day without much, if any, commotion.

Naturally, you wonder what could’ve happened to have such stillness, and if it was something you’d be able to use in your favor now that you’re feeling a bit better. That rough patch of sickness sure got you in quite the disadvantage, both physically and emotionally, so you could certainly use day off.

“Everything’s calm, isn’t?” You’d tell Mariya while closely watching her take out your attire for the day: something warm to fight the rising winter, but adequate enough to not make you feel overcrowded. “It’s kind of eerie.”

“Fits with the day, doesn’t it?” she says with a smile.

“The day…?” you blink—what made today so special?

“Halloween, of course” Mariya responds “The 31st of October, Saturday in fact. The end of the week.”

Oh.

How could you forget that today is Halloween?

But most importantly…

Has it really been that long since your wedding?

It was ironic to even say that, since you’ve always considered that time at the Zen’in estate felt like an eternity. But now, it’s been months since you’ve last seen your family, friends, and freedom—yet they remain in your mind vividly as ever.

Given the date they’re probably already working, eased into their stations as they prepared to watch over the night.

As every year, you assumed, Ren would’ve told you that he’d rather stay home watching horror movies or go out to the city and make the best of this western celebration instead of working; while Hinata thought the complete opposite, wanting to go out to work because she gets to see curses that don’t come out that often, or perhaps even new ones. Always the workaholic, your sister.

And you, on the other hand… well, you just wanted to go out anywhere, really. After years and years of seclusion, you were itching to see the world and uncover all its mysteries.

But you suppose that staying inside will be good too, not that it was your decision to make, but at least you’ll have company this time.

“Oh, right” you eventually respond. “Wow, didn’t think it was today already.”

“Time flies, doesn’t it? Specially if you’re busy.” Mariya sighs. Something in her tone tells you she’s been wanting to take a break for a while now, but that is not meant to happen for the prime lady-in-waiting.

“Then you’re already centuries ahead” You chuckle, she agrees with a laugh of her own. “All I’ve been doing is sleep and stay in my room… so I’m more than ready to do literally anything else for a change.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Y/N. But it seems I won’t be able to help you there much” Mariya says, placing your clothes on the bed. “Since everybody is out the estate for work, most of the staff doesn’t have duties to do, outside of cleaning I suppose… but what is there to clean if there no one dirtying it?”

You nod along, she makes a whole lot of sense now that she puts it that way.

“Must be the favorite day for the staff, hm?”

“It’s relaxing, I can admit that.” Mariya adds “We can essentially do whatever we want without being constantly watched… kind of, there’s still the staff of the master’s to worry about, but as long as we don’t look like we’re relaxing too much, we should be fine.”

“Do you celebrate Halloween?”

“Not really, I mean, I would just go down to the village market and see whatever seasonal stuff they have—but even then, I don’t usually buy much” Mariya reminisces, last year, there was a particular vendor who sold a wide collection of impressive masks, proclaimed to be hand-painted by himself, ranging from silly, moderately adorable, to straight up terrifying.

Certainly, the man had talent for his craft, and it made Mariya wonder if he’ll be there this year again, maybe she should go down there and buy one just to support him.

And the year before that, the villagers set up a small puppet theater to tell horror stories, nothing too scary, just something to entertain those who wished to indulge in the seasonal ambience. It was mostly, if not completely, family oriented. Mariya found herself listening to one or two stories whenever she could.

While the people of the Zen’in clan thought these days tedious, others considered a day of leisure—truly, two sides of the same coin.

“But outside of that, I just spend my time here. It’s essentially an extra day off so I just use it to call my family, or hang out with Tatsuro” She adds “What about you? Do sorcerers celebrate Halloween or is it just for work?”

“A bit of both” you respond.

“Shibuya?”

“Oh, no—I never been one to enjoy that kind of environment.” you chuckle “It can get too chaotic, though I did dress up when I was younger…”

“No way!” Mariya gasps, a grin parting her lips as she tries to imagine the kind of costume your younger self would wear. “Tell me there’s pictures at least!”

#ask #ask series: first it hurts—

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grymmnox · 2 years

Text

weekly fic recs #2

decided to do saturday, instead, since it’s the end of the week instead of the beginning of a new one. we’ve got a mix of fandoms now! bsd, atla, toh, and bnha..mostly bsd fics. still working on getting through the series, but i have a tendency to expose myself to spoilers. anyways, here we go! fic recs are all under the cut, as per usual :)

Bungo Stray Dogs Recs

the heart is always searching - thishasbeencary

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, m/m (soukoku aka chuuya/dazai)

complete, 12,187 words, 5 chapters

topics to be aware of: n/a (i think?? possibly some dazai-typical behavior and thoughts, though)

summary:

Dazai wakes up at a desk at the Port Mafia headquarters. Chuuya wakes up in an unfamiliar apartment. It doesn't take long to figure out what happened.

But why are they stuck in each other's bodies? And how the hell do they fix it!?

soulmate bodyswap shenanigans. what more could you ask for?

songs of bygone days - Origamidragons

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen

oneshot, 8,477 words

topics to be aware of: some violence

summary:

It’s like a bomb goes off in the room, and then it’s like the bomb keeps going off, the shockwave not dissipating but instead intensifying moment by moment. Everything is heat and light and darkness and above all pressure, pushing relentlessly, shoving the combatants into the walls with such crushing force that the concrete cracks.

Atsushi’s head hits the wall with a sickening crack, hard enough that he sees stars for a moment. There’s a weight on his chest pressing down, down, down, like a cinderblock between his lungs, squeezing his ribcage in a vise, and his vision is flashing black and red and he- can’t- breathe-

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it’s done. The choking red mist filling the air abruptly clears, everything and everyone clatters unceremoniously to the floor, and in the center of what was once a rather tasteful bank lobby and now charitably resembles a war zone, Dazai is holding a child by the wrist.

A Human Element - Fan_ofmanythings

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen

oneshot, 2,929 words

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical behavior and thoughts, probably (past) child abuse considering the whole..everything

summary:

"Dazai? Looks like you've shrunk." Chuuya barked a single laugh, more baffled than anything else. He couldn't imagine this being part of Dazai's plan.

"And you must've hated milk growing up if you're this short and this old." Dazai said in a flat voice, the insult blunter than usual, and more blatant in its bite. Chuuya huffed.

"Might want to find new material instead of letting yourself get hit with an ability that's somehow turned you shorter, likely weaker, and even more annoying. Don't expect me to save your sorry ass when you can't even lift a gun with those match-stick arms."

Or: Chuuya gets some uncomfortable answers when Dazai becomes a younger version of himself with no memory of the last 6 years.

(My go at a de-age Dazai fic! I'm so sorry if they're OOC lol, I tried.)

yeah i went on a bit of a de-aging fic streak

past horrors (make future problems) - DeviBlue

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, m/m (soukoku- NOT while dazai is de-aged.)

oneshot, 6,222 words

topics to be aware of: child abuse, childhood trauma, dazai-typical behavior(?), some violence

summary:

“Dazai has been de-aged by an ability and—”

“How old is he?” Chuuya said, completely cutting Kunikida off without a care.

“Ten.”

“Shit,” Chuuya cursed. There was a commotion on the other end, and it sounded like Chuuya was running. “Don’t take your eyes off him and don’t let him touch you. I’m on my way.”

Dazai's childhood before the mafia taught him to be dangerous in more ways than one.

the hazard of doorknobs - Seito

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen

oneshot, 1,171 words

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical behavior

summary:

Dazai vs Doorknobs! Who wins?! (if you guessed Dazai, you're wrong.)

Doorknobs were Dazai’s greatest enemy. Truly. One would think his greatest enemy was life itself, due to the increasing complex way he kept trying to die and failing.

(One of Dazai’s many secrets was that he didn’t try very hard to kill himself.)

But no! The truth was indeed Dazai’s greatest enemy was doorknobs. Namely doorknobs that like to snag and catch his bandages. It doesn’t matter how he approaches the door, mindful of the knob. It doesn’t matter what type of doorknobs either! Nor does it matter how well Dazai tied his bandages.

The truth of the matter was simple.

Every time Dazai reached for a door, he most likely got tangled in the doorknob.

lovely crackfic. bandages and doorknob shenanigans

On a need to know basis - insi

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, m/m (soukoku)

oneshot, 4,617 words

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical behavior, child abuse??, generally just. port mafia related warnings

summary:

There was something strangely novel about the days when the entire Agency ended up squished into Yosano’s infirmary in the aftermath of a mission. Tanizaki, Kenji and Atsushi were lined up like ducklings along one bed, Ranpo and Kyouka sat on another, Kunikida stood by the wall. And, they all got to watch as Yosano manually patched Dazai up.

“You’re not getting painkillers?” Atsushi asked.

“Nope.” Dazai tilted his head to the side slightly and looked at him. “Why would I?”

There was a beat of silence and then Atsushi’s eyes jolted towards him. His expression morphed to one somewhere between confusion and alarm. “Well… Doesn’t it hurt?” he said slowly.

Rx: #32924 - Techni Kolor (KaiserKorresponds)

teen and up audiences, no archive warnings apply, gen

complete (it’s a collection of drabbles), 12,510 words, 22 chapters

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical behavior, drug usage, medication (and negative reactions and side effects to said medication), medical trauma, mori is his own warning tbh

summary:

A collection of one-shots about Dazai's experiences with psychiatric medications over the years.

[Title is a reference to the prescription number reading as "Dazai" when it's typed on a phone keypad.]

making our way towards the credits - kazoosoda

teen and up, creator chose not to use archive warnings, gen

oneshot, 2,674 words

topics to be aware of: implied self-harm, i think that’s it

summary:

“Ah… Chuuya-san.” He says politely, watching as Chuuya's face immediately morphs into a strange mixture of disgust and abject horror. “How are you?” He asks, a very strained smile making its way onto his face.

Chuuya twitches so violently that Atsushi fears he may have broken him, then skitters back a solid five feet. “Who are you?”

(Or: Nakajima Atsushi's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.)

14. i saw a trash bag on the side of the road today. reminded me of you. - elijay

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, m/m (soukoku)

oneshot, 556 words

topics to be aware of: n/a

summary:

Ranpo lunges for the phone as it's on its fifth ring, hitting ‘accept’ and ‘speaker’ in rapid succession.

Atsushi lifts his hand to his mouth, and has a one-second internal crisis.

Or: the Agency is, as usual, mildly traumatized by Soukoku’s unconventional mating rituals.

(standalone)

those dead mackerel eyes of yours (so creepy) - elijay

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, m/m (soukoku)

oneshot, 439 words

topics to be aware of: n/a

summary:

Atsushi and the Agency get curious, where'd the name mackerel come from?

Chuuya takes the opportunity as it is: a chance to rant about Dazai to (mostly) willing listeners.

(standalone, part of a drabble series)

ten - elijay

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen + m/m (soukoku)

oneshot, 1,398 words

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical behavior, homelessness (it’s honestly not very angsty, but dazai is dazai)

summary:

“How old are you?”

Someone had asked the question, when he was young, before Mori and the mafia and all the darkness, and he’d stared at them for a little before guessing, “Ten?”

They’d asked if he was sure, because he didn’t sound sure. He had shrugged, and they had simply clapped him on the shoulder, and that was that.

He didn’t ask their age - he didn’t care.

So that was his age from then on out - he was ten.

Or: Dazai doesn’t know how old he is, he never has. He can guess, and that’s all that really matters. After all, age is just a number.

(standalone)

would you believe me if i said i was blinded by the light? - elijay

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen + m/m (can be interpreted as daizatsu)

oneshot, 1,203 words

topics to be aware of: uh. n/a?

summary:

Everyone stares at him, and Ranpo cackles.

“YOU’RE HALF-BLIND?!” Kunikida roars, and then the questions begin to pour in.

(standalone, part of a drabble series)

That's me, standin' in the mirror - minukke

not rated, creator chose not to use archive warnings, gen

oneshot, 2,968 words

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical behavior

summary:

“So...you’re Dazai from four years ago?” Kenji broke the silence first. He tickled his chin thoughtfully. “Wow, you’re really different!”

Dazai made a non-committal noise.

Or, teenage Dazai, Port Mafia executive and dubbed the "Demon Prodigy", finds out how much he's changed in four years.

The man who cries wolf - Scarlet_Nin

not rated, creator chose not to use archive warnings, gen

oneshot, 2,667 words

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical behavior

summary:

„This is ridiculous.”

Dazai snaps, trying to twist his coat free from the beast that had it in it’s jaw. All he gets for his trouble is a tug, that pulls him onto dry land. Standing up, he quickly steps away, a glare on his face that would have sent men crying.

The beast looks unimpressed, staring up at him with blue eyes and whines.

Hurt - Scarlet_Nin

not rated, creator chose not to use archive warnings, gen

oneshot, 5,338 words

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical behavior, kidnapping, torturing, violence, implied depression

summary:

“He was annoying as hell. Couldn’t keep his mouth shut and wouldn’t stop mocking me. It’s not like I killed him.” “I hope you didn’t. We need both of them alive.”

The other man hisses lowly as he walks over and uses his foot to roll Dazai over. He frowns when he sees the pale face, smudges of blood and dirt clinging to it and glares at his partner. “Does it look like he’s breathing to you?”

“He is, I know he is!”

The man walks over, crouches down in front of Dazai and Kunikida’s stomach drops. Heart beating a mile per minute, he watches as the man feels for Dazai’s pulse only to furrow his brows.

“Fuck. There’s no pulse, what should we do—”

Feeling like the ground beneath him just crumbled, Kunikida blinks furiously. Dazai can’t be dead. He can’t be. Throat closing up, he opens his mouth a few times only for no sound to come out.

Petals Of Nostalgia - Scarlet_Nin

general audiences, no archive warnings apply, gen

oneshot, 2,833 words

topics to be aware of: dazai-typical suicide references, otherwise it’s a fluffy fic

summary:

“Now you’re just making fun of me,” Puffing out his cheeks, Dazai huffs as he glances around the colorful ray of flowers. “You’re mean, Odasaku. After I showed you my coffin too!”

“Coffin?”

“Yeah!”

At the slow blink of his friend Dazai grins as he gestures to where he had been laying before.

“Death by breathing in poisonous flowers! That way, the sweet aroma would have put me to sleep and I’d never would have woken up again. Nobody would have to leave flowers on my grave too, since they’re already here.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but none of the flowers here are in any way poisonous.”

Do It For Him - dietpopcorn

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen

oneshot, 9,725 words

topics to be aware of: mori is his own warning, implied childhood sexual abuse, depersonalization

summary:

「you do it for her, that is to say, you do it for him」

A friendly summer shopping trip with some harmless cross-dressing sounded like a fun Agency bonding activity. Then again, hindsight is 20/20.

The Heart of Your Murderer - full_moon_pills

not rated, creator chose not to use archive warnings, gen

oneshot, 7,231 words

topics to be aware of: medical trauma, surgery (specifically, open heart surgery), blood, dissociation, implied child abuse, panic attacks, mori makes some creepy comments about dazai’s hands being pretty, manipulation i suppose?

summary:

“Dazai,” Ranpo interrupts. “You do the emergency surgery.” He’d foolishly believed no one would make him do these things anymore—that he was free.

or: Dazai is forced to operate on Poe, and unwanted memories arise.

Avatar: The Last Airbender Recs

Zuzu - romanslegs

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen

ongoing, 54,981 words, 6/? chapters

topics to be aware of: transphobia, homophobia, child abuse

summary:

“I think they made a mistake when I was born. Everybody says I’m a girl but I feel like a boy. We should tell everyone I’m a prince, not a princess. Then they wouldn’t say the wrong things anymore.”

“Zuzu, honey, you mustn’t say things like that.” His mother grabs his shoulder firmly.

“Why not?” She doesn’t answer for a long time, gazing at the pond before finally turning back to him, the tranquility of her face contrasting with the urgency of her grip.

“It could make people very angry.”

“Like how Father gets angry?”

“...Yes, your father would get very angry.”

“Oh. Okay.”

________________________________

(aka: a trans!Zuko AU where Zuko says "fuck chasing the Avatar" and becomes a boy instead)

The Owl House Recs

just frame the halves and call them brothers - ClausLucas

general audiences, no archive warnings apply, gen

ongoing, 47,426 words, 8/9 chapters

topics to be aware of: child abuse

summary:

In which Hunter and The Collector become friends while Hunter's uncle isn't paying attention.

Boku no/My Hero Academia Recs

Your Golden Sheen (Flakes Away) - MarInk

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen + m/m (erasermic, they foster shinsou and izuku)

complete, 25,733 words, 6 chapters

topics to be aware of: (past) child abuse, running away, mentions of bullying

summary:

If being fostered by Aizawa and Yamada is a dream come true, then the arrival of Midoriya Izuku, Hitoshi's newly minted foster brother, has turned it into a nightmare.

Hitoshi pets cats, does his homework and tries to navigate the suddenly tumultuous waters of his foster family with varying degrees of success. If only Midoriya wasn't here... wouldn't that be great?

hitoshi is a traumatized teenager. izuku is also a traumatized teenager. hitoshi has some quirk issues to work out. it gets messy, but it has a happy ending

When Realities Collide - LowlyWriter

teen and up, creator chose not to use archive warnings, gen (erasermic)

ongoing, 49,559 words, 4/? chapters

topics to be aware of: uhh. bullying??

summary:

(Formerly known as Into the Deku-Verse)

Shota sneers at the teenager across from him. His defense raises like the hairs on the back of his neck as he glares steadily, ready and waiting for whatever will come from this encounter. He narrows his gaze when the teen shifts; just the thought of sharing this rooftop with Japan's most notorious villain makes his skin prickle. “Deku.”

“Y-yes!” the teenager cries out in relief, taking a small step towards Shota, “I’m Deku! I’m so g-glad you—”

“Deku,” Shota growls darkly, flicking out his capture weapon hastily to snag the villain before he can make his move. He's quick to tug it taut, leaving no room for Deku to escape. “You’re under arrest.”

“I-I’m what?! W-wait!”

tl;dr

Hero Course student Izuku comes to the realization that he is definitely not where he's supposed to be.

reconcile - whatagoodegg

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen

ongoing, 46,013 words, 4/? chapters

topics to be aware of: bullying, child abuse, afo’s treatment of shiggy, nightmares, self-harm (shigaraki’s scratching)

summary:

Midoriya and Shigaraki get hit with a Quirk that basically locks the both of them in an indestructible box and makes them unable to physically harm each other. The only way for them to get out?

They have to reconcile their differences.

Obviously, this is easier said than done.

(not a ship fic, but ig this could be read as pre-slash? shrug)

Crossover Recs

Into Your World - leedonghyucks

bungo stray dogs + my hero academia

teen and up, creator chose not to use archive warnings, m/m (shin soukoku aka akutagawa/atsushi + tododeku)

complete, 110,256 words, 20 chapters

topics to be aware of: canon-typical violence, past child abuse, past bullying (i think that might be it)

summary:

A case gone wrong had caused Atsushi and Akutagawa to be transported to an unknown universe set 200 years into the future, where Abilities (now known as Quirks) were as rampant as ever. The renowned new Double Black have faced many fearsome enemies but can they survive the trials and tribulations of hero high school?

Spoiler alert: Barely.

yes, a bsd and mha crossover. expect more of these. it’s all the crossover section is.

The (Tainted) Sorrow of Being Tossed Into Another World - justaglitch

bungo stray dogs + my hero academia

general audiences, no archive warnings apply, gen

oneshot, 2,920 words

topics to be aware of: n/a, although there may be hints of. dazai-typical behavior.

summary:

“It’s like being a babysitter,” Iida moans. “Tell me about it,” agrees Kunikida. “How do you do it?” Kunikida pointedly turns his back on the scene in the dormitories’ main room. “Sometimes I yell at them; sometimes I just ignore it all.” Behind him, Chuuya stands on the ceiling with his hands wrapped around Dazai’s neck. The bandaged man’s feet aren’t touching the floor, and he’s clinging onto the chandelier which sways dangerously. He’s grinning even as his face goes purple. “...does it help?”

crackfic! shenanigans galore

You long to end your life, so you never will die - pluton1um

bungo stray dogs + my hero academia

teen and up, graphic depictions of violence, gen + m/m (soukoku + shin soukoku)

ongoing, 47,111 words, 11/? chapters

topics to be aware of: violence, dazai-typical behavior, generally just the usual bsd warnings

summary:

For Aizawa, it seemed to be a normal day; after patrol, he was planning to go home and sleep for eighteen hours. That was until he saw the two bloodied teenagers sitting in an alleyway.

"What the hell."

(In which Dazai and Chuuya are sent into the world of heroes and villains. How will they hold in an environment where moral code is placed at such high esteem?) (TLDR 2.0: Dazai and Chuuya become problem children who bring nothing but trouble and stolen alcohol into UA.)

I’m No Hero - Mirani

bungo stray dogs + my hero academia

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, multi (soukoku + erasermic)

oneshot, (part of a series but unsure if it’s going to be continued) 2,990 words

topics to be aware of: n/a

summary:

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” “Language, young man!”

—————

Nakahara Chuuya and Dazai Osamu find themselves 200 years in the future. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Monsters & Men - monoul

bungo stray dogs + my hero academia (fusion)

teen and up, creator chose not to use archive warnings, m/m + multi (soukoku)

ongoing, 19,060 words, 6/? chapters

topics to be aware of: some violence, dazai-typical behavior

summary:

Yokohama has long since sealed itself from the world. Anyone who comes out of Yokohama doesn't speak of what's inside. Heroes have no jurisdiction there. Everyone wants to know; how does a city where the majority of the population are quirkless survive?

The new exchange students might know, though.

"Seriously? You want us to play babysitter?"

"Think of it more as intelligence gathering."

OR OR

Mori owes Nezu a favor, Mori also wants to keep an eye on the League of Villains. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

The Sticking Point - Anxiety_Pickle

bungo stray dogs + my hero academia (fusion)

teen and up, creator chose not to use archive warnings, gen + m/m (soukoku)

ongoing, 27,816 words, 5/? chapters

topics to be aware of: violence (probably), dazai-typical behavior, child abuse

summary:

When Nedzu called him to his office for a meeting this morning, with no indication of its subject other than that name, Aizawa knew it was going to be a shitshow, because everything involving Yokohama always was.

"Tell me, how do you feel about transfer students?"

The deal has already been sealed by the time he looks over his tea. For the love of any god that’s listening, he hopes the two transfers aren’t going to be anything like the rest of his class, and knows he’s wrong by the time he steps foot out the door.

(Or: Nedzu and Mori have an understanding, and everyone suffers for it).

Between Scheming and Babysitting - Alcore

bungo stray dogs + my hero academia (fusion)

teen and up, creator chose not to use archive warnings, gen (can be interpreted as soukoku)

ongoing, 10,281 words, 3/? chapters

topics to be aware of: dazai typical behavior, likely going to be violence and such in future chapters

summary:

Mori wants Double Black to infiltrate the U.A. Nezu wants them to work for the Hero side. Dazai and Chuuya just want to be done with playing heroes/babysitters/part-time spies.

What could possibly go wrong?

Don't mind us dropping in - Raja_Myna

bungo stray dogs + my hero academia

teen and up, no archive warnings apply, gen

ongoing, 6,216 words, 4/? chapters

topics to be aware of: implied abuse, dazai-typical behavior and such

summary:

Chuuya's not used to waking up eating grass, feeling like someone kicked his ass all over Yokohama, with a bunch of kids in school uniform staring at him. Those are the least of his problems, however, and being stuck here with Akutagawa, the Agency's weretiger, and Dazai, is not making it better.

This is all Dazai's fault.

OKAY finally done. that took like an hour, almost two. if i missed any warnings or got any links wrong or anything, please tell me and i’ll try and fix it.

15 notes · View notes

jerzwriter · 2 years

Text

Sunday Six

So, I should show my WIP file to my therapist right now - she'd be like "Yeah, the ADHD meds might need a little adjustment." lol And she'd be accurate.

Here's a list of what I've got coming up. Anything in orange has a Sunday Six/Sneak Peek below the break.

Friends 6 - Finale / T/C will be out by this Tuesday

Vegas Part 3 / E/C will be out by Saturday 10.15 no fic preview because y'all have already seen enough, BUT I have a sneak peek of an art commission associated with the chapter below.

Grandparents Day 3 / T/C will also be out by Saturday 10.15

4 Halloween Requests 3 for E/K and 1 for T/C, are in the works

The first Delaying the Inevitable: What If... is in progress, and t is for this ask: Ethan & Casey find their way back to each other many years later (aka Elsa's other version lol)

3 Smut Fics - one for each pairing - will be up before the end of the month in honor of smutober/kinktober - whatever you want to call it, lol

Tobias & Casey's HC I'll be focusing a lot on this since I want to get their wedding up by their "Wedding Date" of November 12th because... mental health issues. lol So After Grandparent's Day 3, I'm going to loop back to their HC - which will take us to the chemical attack.

Wake the Dead, I think I'm going to start at the start - shorter fics to expand on canon. As I progress, I think I'm going to write a different ending - one my HC and the other a really angsty AU.

TWO UPCOMING MINI-SERIES: RESET - Ethan x F!MC, Ethan x F!OC, Other pairings, and WHERE IT GOES FROM HERE - Tobias x F!OC, Tobias x F!MC (Past) These are both in the works - but I have decided that I'm not putting either up until they are fully written. Then, when I post them, it will be one chapter a week without break. I think that's best for my readers and me. :)

I told you - it's a dark and scary place...

Friends 6 - Finale / Tobias x Casey (F!MC) "You know," Jake laughed, "I totally thought the two of them were a thing when we met."

"Wait!" Claudia exclaimed, "How did you and Casey meet?" "At s Sox game...."

Tobias's eyes met Casey's for a brief second before she turned away, the look on her face left him desperate to stop the exchange. "It's not important..." Tobias interrupted, but Jake continued.

"... I was sitting behind them, and she impressed the hell out of me. No man in his right mind lets a woman this smart, this beautiful, and who knows this much about our hometown heroes getaway. That and the way they bantered... plus she never called me after... so I assumed..."

"We covered this before," Bryce interjected. "We all did."

Delaying the Inevitable: What If... / Ethan x Casey, Tobias x Casey

"Do you ever hear from him?" she whispered.

"Tobias?" Ethan asked, an array of emotions awash on his face. "No...it's been... years. Hardly at all since he left Boston."

"I'm sorry," she lamented. "Sometimes I feel like... you know, never mind."

"No," he replied, instinctively grabbing her hand as if he feared she would disappear. "I want you to continue. Casey, we have been able to talk about anything except him, and I think that should stop."

"Why bring up bad memories, Ethan? How does that help either of us?"

Their Start, Chapter 10 (T/C HC) / Tobias x Casey

He rushed through the halls with conviction, he had to see her. His heart refused to accept that she could be gone within days... within hours, the thought too painful to conceive. But he was a doctor and he knew her chances, and they were slim. If she were a patient he'd convince the family to pray for a miracle... but he didn't think miracles were real.

Losing her would be unbearable, but if she left this world before he could apologize, before he could atone and let her know the regret that was eating him inside, that he could not bear. He had to see her.

But as he came to a quick stop before the glass that was her only view into the outside world, his pounding heart went still.

"Casey..." he muttered, his voice but a painful plea... this was a mistake.

Wake the Dead Unnamed / Eli x Zoe (F!MC)

He sat in a darkened corner, removed from the rest under the guise of keeping watch. And keep watch he did, for drones, of course, but also over this cluster of strangers he found himself inadvertently aligned with. All the years of voluntary solitude, solitude he instituted for his very survival, was relinquished in an instant. He expected to be angry, enraged, making plans to find his way off on his own... but instead, he sat watch over a group of people he didn't even want to know but somehow felt responsible for.

~~~~~

She had wanted to sit by the window, and he was baffled that she wouldn't listen to reason. In spite of everything, she had seemed to be so sensible before. But that was their first scuffle on the first of many nights they were now bound to spend together. It wasn't safe, and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Grabbing a blanket, she turned away from him and sat on the floor, her glassy eyes focused on a large painting of a meadow. She was almost entranced. That's where he had left her hours before, so he was shocked to find her still there, gaunt, pale, almost unrecognizable from the woman he saw in action that day.

He should keep walking. There was no reason for him to stay. No words he was required to offer. But he found himself standing over her; she didn't so much as flinch.

"The others are already asleep." He stated the obvious. His voice was heavy, almost robotic in tone. Several moments of silence hung and started to turn away.

"The others didn't lose their sister today," she croaked.

He shut his eyes and turned his head away, even as he moved several steps closer.

"I know. And I know you may not feel it now, but you'll be OK."

His voice was cold, yet somehow comforting. She didn't know how, but she knew he understood.

"I know," she said with a deep sigh. "I'll be fine by the time the sun rises. I have no choice. There's work to be done. But right now, I don't have to be OK."

Perma:@a-crepusculo @aishwarya26 @animesuck3r @annfg8 @annoyingmillenialnewbie @bex-la-get @binny1985 @bluebelle08 @bluerosesbloom @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @danijimenezv @different4strawberry @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @forallthatitsworth @genevievemd @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lilypills @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mysticalgalaxysstuff @ofmischiefandmedicine @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @peonyblossom @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @toadfrog26 @trappedinfanfiction @uneravine @youlookappropriate @zahrachoices @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations

#sunday six #cfwc sunday six #open heart fanfic #wake the dead #choices fanfic #ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #eli sipes #playchoices fanfic

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dottielovegood · 2 years

Note

Are there any updates on your works to look forward to soon?

Hi anon!

I am sorry to inform you that I am in a writing slump. I have multiple fics planned in my head, I just seem unable to write anything at the moment (=the curse of being a fic writer).

Every Saturday for the last couple of weeks I’ve sat down to write but after staring at a blank document for hours, I just give up.

To be honest, my life is a bit of a shit-show at the moment, which is probably why I can’t concentrate on writing (which sucks because writing usually makes me feel better).

IF inspiration strikes and I am able to write, this is what I have planned though:

The last chapter of 'Shadowsinger [erotic audio for women, nsfw]'

A Nessian Halloween fic - my first Nessian fic.

I want to write an Elriel Halloween fic too, but I can’t come up with a good couples costume for them, lol. If anyone has any good ideas, send them my way! (Nothing Star Wars themed though since I did Kylo/Rey last year).

I also want to start writing a new multi chapter fic that I’ve been thinking about for MONTHS. But I have to write most of it before I post, which will take me quite a while.

I have, unfortunately, decided to take a break from writing ’BLOOM’. There are just some topics that I had planned for that fic that are too difficult for me to write about at the moment. I’ll return to it when I know how I want to change the plot (or when I feel better).

Thank you for your question. Sorry for ranting.

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 month

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 9

Chapter Warnings: Angst, some smut.

Word Count: 6,553

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Since I haven't posted anything on this series for the last two weeks, I thought I'd get this chapter out to you guys early, instead of waiting for Saturday. I hope you think it was worth the wait. The last chapter will be posted on Saturday, April 13. Thanks for all your support of this series! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

3 weeks later

He’d lost them. They were gone.

Their screams echoed in his ears as he came awake with a start, breathing hard and fast.

Dean sat up and swung his legs over the side of the cot, feeling Y/N shifting beside him.

“Dean?” Her voice was squeaky and thick with sleep.

She sat up and began rubbing her hand across his back as she moved to sit beside him. He didn’t need to explain why he was awake and breathing as though he’d run a mile.

Y/N kissed his shoulder and he felt the heat of her lips through his thin cotton t-shirt. “It was just a dream.” She kissed him again. “Just a bad dream. Everything’s okay.”

Dean nodded absently and then turned towards her and cupped her cheek in his hand; he needed to touch her, feel she was real. He kissed her lips, soft and brief before he turned to look at Emma sleeping across the tent. She looked so tiny, dwarfed even by the small cot.

Dean stood up and crossed to her. Her little limbs were completely tangled up in the blankets and her head was nearly hanging off the side of the cot. Dean leaned down and adjusted her position to something comfier. He untangled her and tucked the blanket around her properly before reaching up and pushing back her messy brown curls from her forehead. He trailed his knuckles over her soft cheek and took comfort in the sleepy sigh that escaped her.

He stood staring at her a moment before he felt Y/N come up behind him and take hold of his bicep, pressing another kiss into the muscle there. He turned to look at her and the concern in her gaze was obvious, making him feel guilty. He bent to kiss her again, more lingering this time, as he buried his fingers in her soft, silky hair.

She kissed him back and wound her arms around his waist. When he pulled away, the warmth of their kisses had burned away some of the worry in her eyes and he was glad. He kissed her forehead and nodded towards the cot.

“Sorry I woke you. You should go back to sleep.”

She cocked her head and shot him a look with an arched brow. “So should you.”

Dean lifted one corner of his mouth in his best attempt at a smile.

“N’ah, I got my four hours. I’m good.” When Y/N opened her mouth to argue again he spoke before she could. “I have some stuff I gotta work on. So, you go back to bed.”

He pecked her lips once more and then stepped out of her arms, grabbing his jacket as he headed out; March may have been going out like a lamb, but there was still a brisk chill in the air outside the warm tent.

He knew he’d never be able to concentrate on any of the things that he actually should be doing so he just walked. He walked all through the camp, weaving between tents and nodding at the odd person who was out and about like him. He went to the garage and thought about working on Baby, but there really wasn’t any more he could do until they could go out and find her four new tires.

So he kept walking. He walked and walked until he came to the river. Most of its winter ice was broken up and within a couple weeks people would be able to come for cold baths once again which would be welcomed happily after months of unsatisfying basin baths.

It was probably dangerous for him to be so far from camp without another person, but he had his gun strapped to his thigh as always and the silence and wide open space around the edge of the river was soothing. He needed an escape from the relentless visions that swam in his mind’s eye. Horrific visions of Y/N and Emma being torn apart right in front of him.

He dropped to the ground to sit; his shoulders were bent and he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to gouge out the images.

Every night for weeks now he’d had the same kinds of dreams. There was never any specific situation in the dreams, at least nothing he could remember. But he just knew Y/N and Emma were being hurt and it was his fault.

Cas still hadn’t heard anything from the angels, no angel radio, and no contact from anyone. But his powers seemed to be mostly back. He still couldn’t teleport, but he could heal - they’d tested it again just to make sure it wasn’t a one time fluke. But Dean cut a long gash in his arm and the angel had mended it quickly and easily. Cas could also tap people to sleep, and he said he’d begun to “see like an angel” again. Dean wasn’t a hundred percent sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded important.

There was no doubt the angels were back on earth. And they’d be coming for him.

***

Later that afternoon Dean sat at their table, as Y/N planned out a lesson for the next day. But his mind was still miles away, desperately turning possibilities over and over in his mind. For the last couple of months, since they figured out the truth about Y/N, he, Y/N and Cas had been working on a game plan for how to track down other younger generation psychic kids, as well as figuring out how to go about searching for former scientists, doctors, researchers, or anyone who might know enough to try and create a vaccine.

They knew it would be incredibly hard and time consuming, but they were determined. Or at least Cas and Y/N were determined. Lately Dean had begun considering another possibility.

As he sat worrying and contemplating things, Emma surprised him out of his stupor, climbing into his lap and putting her little hand on his cheek.

Dean worked up a small smile for her sake, but it obviously wasn’t enough because she spoke in a solemn voice.

“Are you sad?”

Dean shook his head and forced his smile wider. “No, of course not.”

“You look sad.”

Dean marveled at the little girl’s intuition (she was her mother's daughter) but he shook his head again. “N’ah, I’m fine, kiddo. Just thinking.”

“Bout what?”

“Nothing important, just some boring grownup things.” He tugged her braid and changed the subject. “How was school?”

Her eyes lit up and lost their look of worry. “It was good! Mommy read us a book about a dog. He was red and really huge!”

Dean chuckled. “Ah, yeah. Clifford.”

“Yeah!” Emma exclaimed excitedly. “Did you read that book before?”

He nodded. “Oh sure, there are a bunch of Clifford books. I used to read them all the time to…” He stumbled over his words for a moment, but cleared his throat and continued. “I used to read them to my little brother all the time when we were kids.”

As always, thoughts of Sam and who he used to be, sliced a deep cut into his heart, but he was used to how it bled so he could mostly ignore it. Emma’s bright blue eyes turned pleading.

“I want a dog like Clifford. Can we get one?”

Dean smiled. “Don’t think there’s too many dogs like Clifford out there. He’s pretty big and red.”

Emma shrugged. “K, just a normal dog then? Please?”

Dean chuckled and shook his head. Before he could say anything though, Emma was quick to explain herself.

“He doesn’t have to live in the tent, he could just live in the camp. He could be our camp dog, like Lily is our camp cow.”

Dean sighed as Emma stared up at him, her little face imploring. “Pleeeease.” She repeated. He saw Y/N smirking out of the corner of his eye, but she said nothing.

“We’ll have to see kiddo, okay?” He said with a kiss to the top of Emma's head. Her face fell a little but she shrugged.

“M’kay.” She mumbled.

Y/N stood up and reached for Emma’s hand to help her hop down off of Dean’s lap. “Okay, baby, go outside and run off some energy before supper.” She helped Emma into her jacket and the little girl bounded towards the exit.

“Stay close to the tent.” Y/N called to her.

Emma gave a pout. “Can’t I go see Julianne and Keisha?”

“Fine, but no further.”

Emma took off quickly just in case Y/N changed her mind.

Y/N chuckled lightly and then walked over to where Dean sat. When she got there she lowered herself to her knees in front of him and laid her fingertips against his jaw.

“Wanna talk about some of those boring grown up thoughts swirling around in your head and keeping you so distracted.”

Dean gave a half smile. “They’re pretty boring.”

“Try me.”

He shrugged and Y/N sighed. “Is this about the dream you had this morning?”

He shook his head. “Dreams. Every night. For weeks.”

Y/N’s brow crinkled. “Why didn’t you tell me about them sooner?”

“What’s to tell? They’re horrific and confusing.”

Dean felt his fear bubbling up in his chest, acidic and almost painful in its intensity. He couldn’t keep Y/N’s earnest gaze; he took the hand she held against his jaw and squeezed it between his own as he lowered his head and stared at the floor.

“What if we…me, you and Emma, what if we just left?”

Y/N’s voice was incredulous. “What are you talking about?”

He finally looked back at her and he knew his expression was probably desperate, but he couldn’t help it. He was desperate.

“The camp would be fine with Cas in charge. And I’d get him to brand you and Emma and they wouldn’t be able to find us.”

“What are y-? Brand us?” Y/N asked, interrupting her own question.

Dean shook his head dismissively. “Just your ribs. It doesn’t hurt. I mean, not bad anyway. And it keeps them away, keeps them from tracking us.”

“Keeps who away?” Y/N asked, confusion clear on her face and in her voice.

“The angels.” Dean said low and quiet, feeling as though they might be listening in.

Y/N frowned. “Why would you want to hide from angels?”

Dean shook his head. “Look, Cas is an outlier, okay. Most angels are dicks, and some are downright sadistic.”

Y/N’s eyes were round now. “How…how can that be? Aren’t they…I mean I didn’t really go to Sunday School much as a kid, but aren’t angels supposed to be righteous? Aren’t they supposed to protect us?”

Dean scoffed. “In theory. But a lot of them can’t stand humans. And if they’re back now…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Okay but,” Y/N was obviously still confused, “even if that’s true, why would that make you want to run from the camp?”

He stared at her a long time, debating telling her everything, the danger they were all in if the angels found him, but in the end he just shook his head. Why should she have to carry around this same awful fear?

“No, it was just a stupid idea. I don’t like the angels, so I’m not anxious to see them again, but you’re right. Running is dumb.”

They’d find us somehow anyway. Dean thought to himself.

“Dean,” Y/N began, obviously not convinced by his dismissive answer. But before she could say more, he cut her off with a kiss. It might have started as a distraction, but that purpose immediately fell away as he delved his tongue into her mouth and devoured her. The soft sounds issuing from the back of her throat drove him crazy and suddenly it was as though he couldn’t get close enough.

He pulled away and they were both panting. Y/N’s smile turned mischievous and she dropped her hands from the open sides of his flannel to his belt buckle.

“Emma won't be back for a while. Think I’ve got time to put a smile on your face?” She said as she slid his belt open. But Dean put his hands on hers, halting her.

“No, I wanna…” He trailed off and then stood up abruptly, grabbing Y/N’s wrist and pulling her along behind him. He could feel her confusion and he threw a wink over his shoulder as they left the tent.

“Trust me.”

Y/N’s brow smoothed out and she grinned. “Okay.”

They left the tent and walked east, meeting Johnston along the way. Dean called out to him as they passed, but didn’t really slow down.

“Emma’s over at Monique's. Go tell her to stay there till we come pick her up.”

“Yes sir!” Johnston called back and he ran off to follow the order.

They walked briskly all the way to the garage. If anyone wondered about why the Boss was speeding across the camp with a dangling belt and Y/N in tow, no one stopped them to ask. Dean assumed they could figure it out.

They reached Baby and Dean wrenched open the back door. Y/N’s face was beet red as she looked around surreptitiously and whispered in a scandalized voice.

“Dean it’s the middle of the day, there are people around.”

Dean shrugged. “So?” He paused a beat and then gave a sideways nod towards the door. “Get in.” He watched the fiery heat bloom in Y/N’s red-ringed eyes and his whole body hardened as it always did when he knew she was thinking lustful thoughts.

With a girlish giggle that made his heart happy and hurt in equal measure, Y/N climbed into the back seat. Dean followed her and closed the door behind him. The curtains were all still drawn, so he simply locked the doors before turning to Y/N and immediately capturing her lips again. He gently pushed her down on the leather seat beneath him.

He spread kisses across her chest, and she sighed. “I’m gonna have to try and be quiet.” She whispered.

Dean shook his head and spoke against her skin. “Don’t bother. You won't be.”

She let out a surprised laugh. “Wow, someone’s sure of themselves.”

Dean slid his hand into the waistband of her leggings and pushed aside her panties to slide two fingers through her wet heat and rub them against her clit. Y/N gasped loudly and Dean arched a brow as he watched the pleasure ripple across her face.

“Do you doubt my abilities to make you scream?”

Y/N shook her head back and forth, letting out a keening moan as he pushed his fingers into her body, his jaw clenching at the way her cunt tightened around them.

She reached for his waistband again, trying to open the button on his jeans, but Dean stopped her once again.

“No, I just wanna touch you, just wanna watch you while I stroke you and pleasure you.” He found the spongy spot deep inside her, and swept across it teasingly. Y/N let out a cry of pleasure, clapping a hand over her mouth when she realized that she was indeed failing to be quiet.

He pulled out of her body and raised his fingers to his mouth, sucking her essence from his fingertips. “You’re so fucking delicious, sweetheart.” He put his fingers to her lips, pushing them into her mouth and against her tongue to give her a taste before dragging them down over her chin and the long column of her neck as she arched her back.

He made quick work of stripping her so that she laid beneath him covered only in goosebumps. She reached up to pull off his shirts and he let her, so that she could pet her hands down his torso, and press her nails into his back as he dipped his head to suck on her pulse. He worked his way down her body, letting his tongue explore her, memorize her.

He refused to try and dissect why he had such a thrumming need to burn every inch of her skin into his memory, to learn her sighs and moans like they were lyrics to his favorite song.

In the back of his mind he knew why, but he shied away from the truth. He only wanted to feel her move beneath him, only wanted to taste her, only wanted to concentrate on the way her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she tried to hold in a moan and the way the sound burst out of her anyway when he speared her with his tongue.

He spent the next hour pulling her apart over and over until the sound of his name on her lips was a refrain he knew he’d never be able to forget.

***

A few more days passed and Dean did his best to avoid Y/N’s questioning glances. He didn’t want to talk about the fears that grew stronger inside him every day.

One night as he laid beside Y/N on the small cot, her arm around his waist and her face buried in his chest, he heard rustling outside the tent that sounded like footsteps. It was the middle of the night. There would be no reason for someone to be walking around their tent unless there was some kind of trouble.

He gently disentangled Y/N’s arms from around him and got up, grabbing his gun from just under the cot. As he was leaving he glanced at Emma to make sure she was sleeping peacefully, moving outside the tent when he could see that she was.

He couldn’t see anyone in the immediate area, so he moved stealthily through the tents. Finally he came out into the clear open area between the tents and the spring vegetable plots. He looked towards the big cabin, and couldn’t see anything amiss. Still, something felt off and he decided he’d go talk to the soldiers he had stationed at the southern post for the night.

But before he could move he heard a voice behind him that made his blood run cold.

“Dean! Long time no see!”

He turned slowly, his gun raised, to see the angel Zachariah standing barely six feet away. The angel’s smug round face was exactly the same, same watery gray eyes, same phony smile.

And then Dean realized why everything felt off and strange. He lowered his gun and dropped his arms back to his sides.

“I’m dreaming.”

Zachariah continued to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were cold and calculating, just as they’d always been. “That’s right. Only way I could talk to you. We’ve been away so long.”

He looked around the camp and his lip curled. “Can’t say I was very anxious to come back to this smelly, cold rock.”

“Well,” Dean said, his voice hard and quiet, “don’t let me keep you here.”

Zachariah waved at him. “Oh no, the uh boss man, Michael,” he thumbed towards the sky, “he said the time was right for us to strike, finally. At first I thought he was crazy. I mean, once Sam said the big yes and we lost him as a catalyst to make you say yes, I must admit, most of us just gave up. No apocalypse this go round.”

He shrugged. “Then Lucifer leveled the planet with his little virus and you all became very, very boring. And the prayers! Ugh, god! They were nonstop.”

His voice took on a mocking whine. “‘Oh save us, heavenly hosts.’, ‘Help us god!’, ‘Save us from these monsters!’ It just went on and on!” He shuddered. “It was so loud all the time, so we just had to get away from the whining.”

Dean’s jaw was clenched so tight it was almost painful. He nodded and sneered. “Away from the helpless, dying people that you set up to be killed, you mean?”

Zachariah shrugged. “We tried to tell you that Michael had to be around to fight the adversary. But no, your stubborn independence was more important.”

Dean tried to keep his voice level. “What are you doing here now?”

The angel rolled his eyes. “You’re joking right? Come on Dean, your brother may have been the brains of your little operation, but surely you’re at least smart enough to figure this one out.”

Dean stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge the terror he could feel in the pit of his stomach.

Zachariah sighed deeply. “Come on Dean,” he encouraged, “I’ll help you out. So, if we left because you were so broken and useless when you found out your brother said yes, if we left because we knew we had nothing left to tempt you or force you to say yes…why do you think we’re back now?”

He paused as though he was a teacher waiting for a particularly dull student to answer an easy question.

Dean felt like he might throw up. “You think you can coerce me again now.”

Zachariah shot a finger gun at him. “Bingo! Except we don’t think we can, we know we can.” His voice became cold and lost its fake joviality. “You’ve got things to lose again.”

Dean felt like panic might be choking him and he desperately wanted to wake up and run. He shook his head at the angel superior. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zachariah rolled his eyes again. “Dean, don’t be ridiculous. We may have been away, but we’ve still been keeping an eye on you. We know all about your little camp of misfit toys, including your pretty, near-monster girlfriend and her pink-cheeked little brat. You care for them, all of them.” He nodded slowly. “We can work with that.”

Dean’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he felt the walls of his nightmares closing in. “You can’t find us. You don’t know where we are, and Cas and I put up as much angel warding as he could take. You won’t locate us.”

Zachariah shrugged. “But you know we will. It’s just a matter of time. Unless you want to save us all some time and just tell me right now?”

Dean’s eyes were blazing with hate as he just stared silently.

“No?” The angel sighed deeply. “Well in that case, I’ll just say, see you real soon.”

Dean came awake slowly, but panic set in quickly.

He jumped out of bed, calling to Y/N. “Sweetheart, get up. Now!”

Y/N rubbed her hand across her eyes and sat up. “Dean. What’s going on?” She asked in extreme confusion.

But Dean didn’t answer her. Instead he was shaking Emma awake. “Get up, baby. Emma!” The little girl grumbled sleepily, but Dean forced her to sit up. “I’m sorry kiddo, but you need to put on really warm pants and a shirt. Dress warm, we might be outside for a while, okay? Your big boots and your scarf too.”

“Dean, stop.” Y/N was standing up now and moved over to grab his arm. “What is this? What?”

Before Dean could answer Cas walked into the still dark tent, bringing a lantern with him. Dean turned to him and Cas’ usually stoic, solemn face showed fear.

“They’re coming.”

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I know. Zachariah came to me in a dream.” He gritted his teeth. “Piece of shit.”

“What’s the plan?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded and answered as he was rushing around, pulling on a flannel over his t-shirt. He’d worn his jeans to bed, so he simply shrugged into his green jacket and started loading up his duffle bag.

“So, we gotta go.” He told Cas. “You need to brand them, so they’re off angel radar too.” He said, rubbing a hand across his ribs. “I figure if we head out within the hour, we might be able to get a decent head start on them.”

Cas was shaking his head as Dean finished. “You can’t just leave the camp. Zachariah will torch the whole thing just to draw you back.”

Dean refused to admit the truth in Cas’ words. “No, that’s…look if I’m not around he’d have nothing to gain from burning the camp. It wouldn’t -”

Cas cut him off. “I told you, he’d burn it to bring you back, or just out of sheer spite and you know it.”

Dean opened his mouth to continue the argument when Y/N’s shout interrupted them.

“Enough. Stop talking right this instant and explain to me exactly what it is that you’re talking about, or I swear I’m going to lose my mind.”

Silence reigned for a few moments as Emma stared up at them all as though she was in the middle of a very vivid and kind of scary dream.

Dean stared into Y/N’s eyes for a moment before he decided she deserved to know the whole truth even if it was messy and painful. He’d just have to try and tell her quickly.

He reached forward to squeeze her hand and then dropped it as he paced around the tent continuing to fill his duffle bag with supplies they’d need.

“You remember me telling you about my brother Sam?” Y/N nodded, but Dean was just barreling on. “Well, I let it seem as though Sam died, but he didn’t, not really.”

Y/N was watching him roam around the room and he glanced at her quickly before continuing. “He’s uh, he’s Lucifer’s vessel. He’s…Lucifer took him over.”

Y/N’s eyes almost bulged out of her head. “Like…the devil? Are you telling me your brother is the devil?”

Dean shook his head and glanced at Emma, but she seemed to be half asleep as she watched them. “No, not really. Lucifer is just using his body, walking around in it. See angels don’t have form on earth, they’re just a bright white light. So, they have to possess a human, a vessel.”

Y/N looked over at Cas. “Wait, this isn’t what you really look like?”

Cas shrugged. “Well, my vessel, Jimmy Novak, his soul is in heaven. His body was exploded into oblivion, by an archangel, which also should have destroyed me. But God brought me back, and fashioned me this vessel. But it’s only me in here now.”

Y/N stared at him, blinking slowly for a moment before tilting her head. “Um…what?”

“Look, that doesn’t matter right now.” Dean said dismissively before continuing with his rapid fire explanation.

“Unlike demons, an angel needs permission to enter a human body, they need the person’s consent. So, at some point, Sam said yes to the devil. I don’t know why. I wasn’t…I wasn’t around when he said yes.”

He looked back at Y/N and he could tell she was desperately trying to take in all he was saying; her voice was contemplative as she spoke.

“Okay, that’s…I’m so sorry, Dean. That must have been horrible for you. But I’m still unclear about why we’re running away. You said the other day you wanted to hide from the angels? Why?”

Dean took in a deep breath, straightening up and finally dropping his duffle bag to the floor before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because I’m a vessel too.”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide again. “For Lucifer?”

Dean shook his head and resumed his movements, no longer packing, just pacing. “No, for Michael, another archangel. The angels all believed Sam and I were destined to be their vessels on earth, allowing them to fight some epic battle that would bring on the apocalypse.” His voice was harsh with anger.

“When we found out about these supposed destinies, we both swore we wouldn’t do it, that they couldn’t make us. But I…well, I abandoned Sam, so I have no idea what they did to make him say yes. I was hurt and angry, and I truly thought we’d do better apart. So, I left my little brother to deal with the devil by himself.”

He stopped pacing and turned away from Y/N completely. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Dean.” Y/N’s voice was soft but he turned back to her and waved away her sympathy.

“None of that is the point though. The point is that they could never get me to say yes, but they were desperate to. And now they’re coming back because…well according to the asshole angel who was just in my dream, I have -” he closed his eyes. “I have something to lose now.”

Y/N’s face was scared, but he could see she was fighting to keep her voice level. “Okay, can I ask, maybe…I mean, if you said yes, then wouldn’t that make you powerful, maybe you could try to fight the devil, maybe you could push him out of your brother. Or maybe, I mean if angels can heal, think of all the good you could do in this sick world with that kind of power.”

Dean was shaking his head. “No, Y/N you don’t understand. If I say yes and Michael takes over, I’ll be…I’ll be gone. I’ll have no power inside my own body. I won’t be able to make any decisions or do anything to change Michael's course. And his only course would be to end Lucifer and end my little brother in the process.”

“And,” Cas interjected, “Archangels rarely leave a vessel alive.”

Dean wished Cas had left out that little tidbit as Y/N’s face became more and more horrified. She took deep steadying breaths as Emma finally climbed out of her cot and walked over to Dean to wrap her arms around his forearm.

“You’re going?” She asked in a sleepy voice. Dean shook his head but before he could answer her they heard a loud scream and Cas stiffened.

“It’s too late. They’re here.”

Dean's stomach clenched so tightly it felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Within seconds they could smell smoke and hear the crackle of flames. Dean grabbed Emma up in his arms and ran out towards the noise. As they emerged from the tents they could see the big cabin burning in the distance, flames shooting high.

Standing barely ten feet in front of them was Zachariah and four other angels.

As they stood staring at the angels, Johnston and Risa joined them, seeming to understand instinctively that this ominous, incongruous group of men in suits were a bigger problem than the fire.

They all looked to where the campers were gathering and scrambling forward with buckets of water from the rain barrels that sat beside the school and storage shed. They quickly formed an assembly line and began moving the buckets back and forth to the cabin.

But Dean could see they wouldn’t be able to save it. The best they could do was keep the fire from spreading to the surrounding trees.

He looked at Zachariah with hatred dripping from his pores. “Stop this, right now, you son of a bitch.”

Zachariah pretended offense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. A lightning bolt struck it. Just an unlikely act of God.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but when the angel’s gaze fell on Emma as she clung to Dean’s neck, he turned to Y/N who pulled her daughter away and then set her on the ground behind her. Instantly Johnston, Risa and Cas closed ranks in front of Y/N and Emma.

Zachariah just smiled. “Aw, that’s really adorable.” He looked back at Dean. “But you know the strength I wield. Do you really think your little wall of protectors is gonna stop me?”

Dean’s mind was reeling, terrified and racing for solutions to this utterly inescapable situation.

When he didn’t immediately answer, Zachariah’s face became thunderous. “We are NOT playing this game again, Dean Winchester!” He barked out before snapping his fingers.

Suddenly Johnston fell to his knees, clutching his throat as blood bubbled over his fingers. Y/N and Emma screamed in horror and Risa shouted out a denial as her friend and brother-in-arms fell at her feet. Cas turned, reaching out to touch the soldier to try and heal him, but two angels bolted forward to hold him back.

Dean scrambled to Johnston’s side, across from where Risa knelt. The young soldier was deathly pale as Dean held his head in his hands.

“It’s okay, soldier. You hear me? Stay, stay with us now.” He ordered him, even though he knew he was asking for the impossible. Red blood stained the young soldier’s neck and his shirt as his life's blood spilled into the muddy, wet ground beneath him.

“Eric.” Dean called to him softly as he gripped his shoulder. “Eric.” The young man looked up at him and it was the first time he’d ever looked at Dean without fear or trepidation of some kind in his eyes. A soft smile graced his lips and Dean wished he knew what he was seeing as he closed his eyes and let his last breath rattle from his chest. Risa pressed her forehead to his, crying quietly.

Dean’s gaze was scorchingly hot as he stood back up and looked across at the uncaring monster in front of him.

Zachariah shrugged. “Just a little reminder of how quick I can make everything change.” Again he looked at Emma where she was crying in Y/N’s arms, and raised his arm to snap his fingers again.

“No!” Dean screamed out, leaping in front of Y/N and Emma as though he could possibly save them if that snap came. “Okay, yes! Yes!” He shouted.

His breathing was ragged and tears clogged his throat. “Yes. Please. Please don't hurt them.” He hated that he was begging, but he’d do whatever it took to keep Y/N and Emma breathing and safe.

Zachariah slowly lowered his hand, a smug smile on his sneering face. “Glad negotiations went better this time around. So, let’s call Micheal down shall we?”

Dean held up a hand. “Yes, but just…put out that fire.” He said pointing at the still blazing inferno. Some people seemed to realize that something was happening across the camp, but they were all quite occupied putting out the fire. Zachariah shrugged and nodded and the blaze was suddenly out, black smoke rising from the ruins of the big cabin.

Dean took a deep breath. “And let me…say goodbye to them.”

Zachariah rolled his eyes but waved at him to hurry up. Dean turned to Cas, ignoring the asshole angels who were no longer holding him, but were still close behind. He called Risa over and she finally left her friend’s side to join them. He put a hand on each of their shoulders.

“The camp’s gonna need you both to help get past all of this. I know you won’t let them down.” They nodded and Dean pulled them into a three way hug, before clapping a hand to Cas’ neck. “You take care of Emma and Y/N, you promise?”

Cas nodded. “Yes. I will.” The angel’s bright blue eyes were dull, but his voice was strong and Dean knew he meant it with his whole angelic being.

Finally he turned to Y/N and Emma and his heart lurched at their tear stained faces, both so alike. As he approached them, Emma ran out of Y/N’s arms and he dropped to a knee so he could wrap his arms around her as she launched herself at him.

Her hot tears soaked into his jacket as sobs shuddered through her small frame. “Don’t go.” She whispered brokenly. Dean squeezed her tighter before he pulled her back so he could look at her. He brushed back her always unruly curls from her forehead and kissed her there.

“I gotta go, kiddo. I’m so sorry.”

Emma took big hiccuping breaths as she responded. “Because of the bad man?” She said looking across the clearing at Zachariah.

Dean forced her to look away from the sadistic angel. “Yeah, baby, because of the bad man. But I…” He brushed away her tears from her cheeks. “Need you to know that I’d stay if I could. If I could, I’d never walk away from you. I swear.”

Emma nodded and he prayed she would remember that and be reassured that another father hadn’t just walked away from her.

He tried to smile, but worried she saw through it. He pulled her close again, and spoke quietly. “I love you bigger than big.”

Emma sniffed and spoke into the front of his shirt. “And taller than tall?”

He pulled away and managed a real smile as he cupped her cheeks. “And taller than tall.”

He stood up and took Emma’s hand, ushering her over to Risa who picked her up and rubbed the little girl's back as she sobbed.

He moved towards Y/N, and stared at her for a moment, completely incapable of saying goodbye.

Y/N shook her head, her tears falling fat and fast. She looked slightly shell-shocked by everything that had happened in barely an hour. Her voice was shaky and thick.

“I don’t know what to…” She shook her head again. “This can’t possibly be happening.”

Zachariah’s bored tone cut between them. “Oh, it’s happening. And it better happen faster if we don’t want any more acts of God to occur.”

Dean closed his eyes briefly and then opened them to pull Y/N into his embrace. He lowered his voice so only she could hear, murmuring the words against her temple.

“Don’t think about this. Don’t think about what’s happening. Instead imagine we’re still just lying in bed. I have my arms wrapped tightly around you and we’re both safe. We can hear Emma talking in her sleep across the room. Close your eyes and stay there, in that moment.” He pulled back to lean his forehead against hers. “Visit me there from time to time, okay?”

Y/N was nodding, and her breathing was ragged. But she reached up and kissed him gently. “This isn't goodbye. It can't be. I won’t believe it. So, as far as I’m concerned, we’ll be back there, in that moment soon.”

Dean gave her a tilted smile. “I love you, you know? I should have said it so much sooner, cause it’s been true for a long time.”

Y/N closed her eyes as though she was in pain. Maybe she was, he was; it felt like a ton of bricks was crushing his chest.

But he concentrated on her bright, red-ringed eyes as she spoke. “I love you too. So much.” Y/N’s tight smile crumpled and she fell back into his arms sobbing.

As Dean crushed her against him one last time, he could hear Zachariah groan in frustration and then begin chanting words in Enochian. The atmosphere began to change around them as the earth rumbled. Dean felt himself being pulled out of Y/N’s arms as Zachariah’s patience ran out and he yanked him away.

“Don’t look at the light!” Dean called to Y/N as a blinding white light enveloped them all. He heard a kind of whispering in his mind, it wasn’t exactly words, but he understood it. It was a question.

He looked back at Y/N and Emma and gave the only answer that would keep them safe.

“Yes.”

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