#it was such a good list!!! it helped me through filling out my bingo card | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princessmisery666 · 2 years

Text

Breaking Point

Summary: Rick Flag is uptight and it’s abundantly clear he hates you. But loose lips, a mission gone awry and Rick having to save you leads to unexpected confessions that have consequences the morning after.

Warnings: mainly fluff, language, drink spiking, tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers, bold/flirty reader.

W/C: 4.5k

Characters: Rick Flag, you (no descriptions of body type or ethnicity)

Pairing: Rick Flag x You.

Bingos: @anyfandomfluffbingo // @rickflagbingo Squares Filled:

Fluff - only one bed // “I dare you to kiss me.”

Rick Flag - Mechanic!Rick // “Good to know.”

Notes: Lyrics from Etta James - Breaking Point (I Just Wanna Make Love To You.) For the young'uns I've linked the ad below 😋.

Betas: @cockslut-padalecki - love ya babes // and @lacontroller1991 was kind enough to read through to give some feedback.

Graphics: pic found on google, title card and dividers made by me.

Master Lists: Main // AF Fluff Bingo // Rick Flag

The late afternoon Georgia sun blares down on the black asphalt, causing heat waves on the desolate back road with no sign of any other people as far as the eye can see. Of course that’s where your government issued SUV had broken down. You’d tried to convince Rick to take your flat top, but no he followed the rules, as usual.

But now here you were, smoke billowing out of the exhaust, even after the engine had been shut off and Rick bent over the hood attempting to fix it.

It was like a damn Diet Coke commercial. Sweat made his skin glisten, grease smeared his cheek and every time he swallowed a mouthful of water you’d watch a bead of sweat trickle down his throat into his shirt. The white t-shirt he wore was soaked through, it clung to him in all the right places and the sweat made it practically transparent. You wished he’d just take it off already, but he wouldn’t, because Rick Flag is wound too tight.

For as long as you’ve worked together he’s always been uptight. Never broke any rules, never deviated from the plan unless absolutely necessary and even then he grumbles about it all the fucking while. So when the black SUV broke down a hundred miles from your destination, you knew you’d never hear the end of it.

He straightens and puts his hands on his hips, lips pursed while he glares at the uncooperative vehicle as if his scowl will jump start it to life once again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t. He tilts his head back, and the sun shines down on him making the beads of sweat look like tiny diamonds are dancing on his skin, he brings the water bottle to his lips and the song from the commercial starts playing in your head.

I don't want you to be no slave

I don't want you to work all day

But I want you to be true

And I just wanna make…

“Hey, Colonel Y/L/N,” he calls out, interrupting your perfectly good fantasy.

You’d lost interest in helping a while ago and wandered into the line of trees to find some shade and a better angle to ogle your colleague. He lifts the hem of his t-shirt and bends to wipe his brow, giving you the quickest glimpse of his abs.

“Are you not an engineer?” Rick asks as if reminding you.

You were indeed the engineer, but you knew, even if you found what the problem was, you’d never get the hybrid vehicle working without the specific computer programme you didn't have with you.

“That’s what they pay me for,” you smile.

“So why am I the one sweating my ass off in the Georgia heat trying to get us back on the road?”

“‘Cause,” you say, strolling toward him, “you’d have made one fine ass mechanic in another lifetime,” you wink. “And I like to see you sweat.”

“Don’t make me write you up for inappropriate conduct,” he warns, wiping his dirty hands on a rag.

You roll your eyes. “Jesus you’re extra uptight today!”

“Ah fuck off,” he groans, throwing the rag onto the engine, “we’re screwed and you know it! We’re a hundred miles away from where we need to be and Waller is gonna have my ass ‘cause of it.”

“She understands cars break down, Rick,” you say, “if anything she’ll blame the tech guys for not running a full diagnostic check before they gave us the keys.”

He nods, but his annoyance is evident. “Answer for everything, right?”

You shrug, “pretty much.”

He smirks, fully knowing his remark will get under your skin, “except that time in Quebec.”

It has the desired effect and you want to slap him for bringing it up but that’s what he wants. A reaction. So you give him your own sardonic smirk. “It worked out in the end.”

“I forgot, you're laid back, don’t give a crap, go with the flow, Y/N.” It's not a compliment, it's a sarcastic assessment of your attitude.

“Better than being the highly strung teacher's pet.”

It’s not the first time you’ve had this particular fight and it always ends with Rick giving you the silent treatment, which is fine cause it means you won’t have to listen to him grumble about the plan going awry.

“It’s too hot for this shit!” you say and walk to the trunk.

“Where’re you going?” he asks, watching you grab your bag and head off in the direction you’d come from.

“We passed a town about five miles back,” you call over your shoulder. “I’m going to find a motel.”

“We need to wait here for evac.”

“Seriously, Flag?” you ask, spinning to face him. “We’re on a recon mission, the idea is to be stealthy, stay under the radar. The guys that are already there will have to do a double shift cause I’m not walking a hundred miles to get there, and it’s not like Waller can fly a chopper in and drop us off. I’m sure there’s a garage or a car rental place, we can get going again at first light tomorrow.”

He ponders for a moment and you can see he doesn’t want to agree with the plan, simply because you thought of it. But you don’t wait for him to agree, he doesn’t have to, you’re going whether he follows or not. He can explain to Waller why the team split up.

You're maybe fifty feet from the car by the time he jogs to your side, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh-five-hundred start,” he demands, lips set in a straight line.

“Sir, yes, sir,” you salute unnecessary, he doesn’t out rank you. In fact you have more field hours logged than him, a fact you like to rub in whenever the opportunity arises and you always make sure it does.

The motel isn’t exactly the Ritz but you haven’t seen any rodents or cockroaches so it could be worse, you guess. The clerk, obviously reading Rick’s hostile body language, explained, “there’s a cowboy convention over in the next town, so we only have one room left with one bed.”

You’d flashed Rick a look over your shoulder and he looked hella pissed, “you can always go sleep in the car,” you suggested.

“Whatever,” he said and left the office. You handed your card over to the clerk and offered an apologetic smile.

“I’ll flip you for it,” you said to Rick as soon as you entered the room.

“You can take the bed, if I can have the first shower,” he’d countered. It was more than fair trade so you’d agreed. But regimented as he is, he was in and done within ten minutes.

The water was hot and the pressure was adequate so you feel surprisingly refreshed after your walk back into town.

Rick’s at the small kitchen table when you exit the bathroom after your indulgent - longer than ten minutes - shower. He looks up at you but doesn’t comment on the tight jeans and simple white t-shirt you’re wearing.

Finally, the Diet Coke commercial fantasy is complete and you thank the Georgia heat for being unbearable enough that he’s not wearing a shirt. But as relaxed as he looks, shirtless and sockless feet kicked up on the table, he’s still in work mode studying surveillance photos. You shake your head but bite your tongue about reporting him for inappropriate attire while on a mission.

You go back and forth from the bathroom, repacking your stuff so you can sleep in as late as possible and not have to worry about packing in the morning when you feel his eyes stalking your back and forth.

It’s not until you’ve put your boots on and slip into your favorite leather jacket he finally asks, “where’re you going?”

“The bar across the street,” you tell him, putting some cash and your card in your back pocket.

“We’re working.”

“Our job was to watch the Michaelson’s house,” you spread your arms wide and spin in a full circle, “I don’t know if you noticed, but this isn’t the Michaelson’s house! So I'm taking a few hours off and going to get a drink. I’m buying if you’re brave enough to join me.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, and for half a second you think you may have goaded him into joining you but he shakes his head, “I’m good.” and he goes back to studying.

“Don’t you ever let loose, Flag?”

He sighs, frustration and a hint of disbelief you’d even ask the question. “Yeah, of course I do, when I’m back home with my buddies.”

“And when do you ever take time off to go home?”

Rick holds your gaze for the longest moment, doing the mental math of the last time he was home. He looks down at his lap and you pity him. “It’s been a while.”

You know why it’s been a while. He broke up with June. Rumours flew around headquarters around about the same time his demeanour changed and it solidified the gossip. After that, he kept himself occupied with work, taking mission after mission without a break. It’s that thought that makes you realize you don’t want to be that person. All about the job.

“Y’know what,” you say, “you can take the bed.” He looks up at you confused and you continue with a wink, “I’ll find someone else to bunk with.”

“Y/N, we’re on a mission.”

“Don’t worry, Flagster, I’ll be sure to sneak out and be back by five.”

He grits his teeth at the use of the nickname he hates and you take that victory with you as you head for the door.

“Y/N, that’s a dumb move,” he warns, “what happened to being under the radar?”

“I can be under the radar and under someone at the same time,” you wink over your shoulder, “I’m talented like that.”

“Y/N,” he calls.

“Either come with me and keep me out of trouble or rat me out to Waller, those are your choices.”

“You’re really fucking annoying, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, “and you’re really fucking boring. Don’t wait up, Dad.” And with that you breeze out the door.

Forty minutes later Rick walks into the bar, grumbling to himself about it being a bad idea. He spots you immediately, front and centre in the five rows of line dancers doing a simple square dance to a catchy country pop song. You’re wearing a brown leather looking stetson and he wonders which cowboy you’ve chatted up to get it.

He ignores the jolt of jealousy the thought invokes and finds a seat at the end of the bar.

“Club soda,” he tells the barman and settles in for a long night. He knows you’re not going to leave until you’ve had your fun, but he’s not going to let you have enough to be hung over tomorrow. And yes, okay, he wants to make sure you don’t go home with someone else. He tells himself it's for the good of the mission, he’s doing his duty by having his partners back but it’s a lie. After you left the motel room, the idea of you screwing someone buzzed around his head like a swarm of bees and the sting of envy grew too much to ignore.

He’s disappointed but isn’t surprised you don’t notice his presence right away. You're too busy having a good time, dancing and singing and you think he’s boring. So why would you even bother scanning the room for him when you never expect him to show up?

A woman you’ve befriended hands you a shot of something; tequila from what he can gather in the poor lighting and you shoot it back without a second thought. Your face scrunches when the bitter taste hits and you shake your head, tongue sticking out once you’ve swallowed.

Rick can’t help but laugh at the gesture and while he continues to chuckle, your new friend leans closer to whisper something in your ear.

Suddenly your gaze finds him and he raises his glass to you with a small nod of his head. You do a little excited skip and your face breaks into a smile before you rush toward him and his stomach flips that you seem genuinely pleased to see him.

He laughs watching you navigate the tables and people, a little unsteady on your feet and he questions how much you’ve had to drink in the forty minutes before he arrived.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smosh his face against your chest as soon as you reach him. “Yay, Rick is here,” you sing.

He laughs and manages to free himself from your too tight grip but it confirms his suspicion that you’ve definitely had your fill of booze and it’s time to rain on your parade. Then he sees the adorable goofy smile you have for him and it gives him pause. You’ve never looked at him like this before. It’s rare you even genuinely smile in his direction let alone look at him as if he’s just hung the moon.

“Y/N,” he says and watches as you sway unsteadily. He cups your face and dips to look directly into your eyes. Your pupils are blown wide, barely any color left and now he understands the dopey smile. “Fuck, have you taken something?” Even as he asks he knows the answer, you’re carefree and don’t give a shit but you’re not stupid. Before you can answer he continues, “who brought you the drinks?”

He scans the room to see if anyone is watching and he notices a hatless cowboy averting his attention elsewhere when Rick catches his eye.

“Motherfucker,” he spits. He throws some cash on the bar, and knocks the dumb fucking hat off your head before wrapping an arm around your waist. “C’mon, it’s time to go.”

You don’t put up a fight as he marches, part carries you back to the motel and he realizes it's the first time you’ve never fought him on something. You're always clashing over seemingly trivial stuff and he admits it's mostly down to him, but it’s easier that way.

“You awake, Y/N?” he asks as you stumble up the curb outside the room.

You mumble something incoherent and he scoops you up, bridal style for the last twenty feet or so.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your head on his shoulder. “Woo, where’d the floor go?” you ask in a sleepy whisper.

He laughs. It’s not funny that some asshole spiked you but the danger has passed. He’s got you and he just needs to keep an eye on you while you sober up.

“You have a nice laugh, Flag. It’s all floaty and sweet.”

“Oh someone’s floating, alright, but it ain’t me,” he says, managing to wrestle the door open without putting you down. He places you gently on the bed and kneels in front of you, checking your eyes again. The fresh air has knocked some sense back into you, your pupils aren’t as big as they were.

“You have really pretty,” you stare into his eyes and it seems the word evades you so you wave a hand around their general area.

He catches your hand and offers a suggestion, “eyes?”

You snap your fingers and smile, “eyes! You have really pretty eyes.”

“Good to know,” he smirks. Whatever they used to spike your drink has given you loose lips and Rick can’t say he minds this version of you.

“Well you have really pretty everything, eyes, nose, arms, abs.”

“Please stop talking,” he begs but his cheeks are tainted pink.

“Okay, well that’s wrong, not everything cause I haven't seen everything cause you won’t let me, but my imagination is pretty good, and oh boy have I imagined it.”

“Y/N,” he cautions and quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, “you gotta stop.” You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch and reluctantly he releases you.

“I’ve imagined that too, you gagging me…”

“Y/N!” he shouts and stands up. You stare up at him like a little lost puppy he just kicked and he hates that he gave you the expression, but he really can’t take your flirting anymore. “Stop it, seriously!”

He waits a beat to make sure you’re not going to fall then goes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.

“Why’d you hate me Rick?”

He doesn’t acknowledge he heard you, instead unscrews the lid, picks up your hand and pushes the bottle into it to make sure you have a good grip. “I need you to drink this,” he says.

You shake your head softly. “But it’s so much hotter when you do it.”

He feels his brow crease and you seem to have enough sense left to understand he’s confused.

“Earlier today, when you were fixin’ the car,” you elaborate, “or at least trying to fix the car.” he rolls his eyes, even under the influence of god knows what you can’t help but tease him. “You were all sweaty and had grease stains on your face and every time you swallowed…” your gaze filters down to his throat and he watches you swallow and bite your lip before you seem to remember you had been talking. “I was jealous of every drop of sweat that got to touch your skin and I so desperately wanted to lick…”

Your hand reaches out and your fingers follow the same trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt but before you can go any further he catches your hand and holds it still.

“Stop,” he demands.

“You really do hate me, don’t you?” you decide.

He shakes his head, very slowly to make sure the message registers and pronounces each syllable perfectly. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really?” you ask, brow raised high, “cause you’re always on my ass, arguing with me, undermining me, and don’t think I don’t know you asked Waller to replace me on this mission. You didn’t want me here.”

“That's true,” he nods in agreement and he feels guilty that you know that detail, “but it’s not ‘cause I hate you.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighs. “I’m not doing this, can you just trust that I don’t hate you?”

“Nope,” you pop the p, shaking your head and pouting like a toddler. “You hate me, I know it. I can feel it in my bones, and other places but that’s inappropriate conduct,” you sneer in a terrible rendition of his voice.

“Y/N, this isn’t the time or place and even if it were, what does it matter? You're so high, you probably won’t remember.”

“Then this is the puuuuurfect time and place,” you sneer, “cause if I don't remember you can go back to hating me.”

“Fine,” he growls. He hates that you're so stubborn and won’t let it go but as much as he hates to admit it, your logic is spot on. If you won’t remember tomorrow what difference does it make if he tells you? “I’ll tell you but I need you to lay down for me.”

You eye him suspiciously but concede because you really do feel sleepy. “I’m not letting you get away with this Flag.”

“I know,” he nods and unzips your boot, “I promise as soon as your head hits that pillow, I’ll explain everything.”

You slowly lower yourself to lay flat, “Okay, I’m down. Go.”

He chuckles but unzips your other boot and pulls it off. “I don’t hate you, it’s the opposite of hate actually. I like you, more than I should. But I’ve been down that road, office romances don’t work,” he says, gently tugging the sheets from under you. “But you flirt with me so much it’s getting harder to resist. That’s why I asked Waller to put someone else with me for this mission.” He readjusts your legs so they're tucked under the covers. “I didn’t want to be stuck in a small room with you for forty-eight hours with no one to distract me. So no, Y/N, I don’t hate you,” he admits, smoothing a hand down your cheek. “But I’m trying my damn hardest too.”

“That’s dumb,” you say, “you like me so you make out like you don’t cause you’re trying to hate me.”

“Exactly,” he laughs and shrugs his shoulders, “I didn’t say it makes sense. I’m just trying to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?”

He drops to a seat on the edge of the bed beside you and gives a pitiful smile. “Heartbreak, I guess.”

“I’m not June,” you say and he’s not so sure he likes your loose lips anymore. “It’s not fair of you to tar me with the same brush just cause she broke your heart.”

“I know,” he sighs but doesn’t say anymore. Your eyes droop closed and finally he thinks you’re going to fall asleep and that this will just be a hazy memory tomorrow that hopefully you won’t be brave enough to mention.

“So in conclusion,” you start, voice riddled with the tiredness that you're fighting, “you don’t hate me?”

“I do not hate you.”

“Prove it.” You ponder for a moment, your drug-addled brain trying to think of a logical way he can prove himself. Then it’s like a light pings on and you open your eyes to challenge him. “I dare you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for the longest time, and he hates that he contemplates doing it. It wouldn’t be right. Not in the state you’re in. He knows it’s not what you meant, but he leans in and kisses your cheek. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow, I promise,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, “if you still want me to.”

You sigh heavily through your nose, “so boring, Flagster.” but your eyes are already slipping closed and you shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks, ignoring the nickname he hates.

“Yeah, cold,” you say softly. “Keep me warm.”

That’s something he can do, so he walks around the bed to get under the covers on the other side and drags you back to rest against his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he can.

You can tell from the light seeping in at the edges of the curtains that it’s way past five when you wake up. But Rick’s arm is draped over your stomach and you can feel the rhythm of his steady breathing against your back. Why did he let you sleep in? There’s no way in hell Rick Flag forgot to set an alarm so why do the red digits on the clock on the nightstand read a little after seven thirty?

As gently as you can you turn over onto your back and Rick’s slumber is picturesque. It's the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him and it's an image you want to hold onto for as long as possible. His lips are slightly parted, no wrinkles of a furrowed brow mar his features or crinkle his eyes at the corners and it takes all of your willpower not to reach out and stroke a hand down his cheek just to make sure he’s real.

You're curious to know why he’s in the bed with you, not that you mind, but answers can wait. You can’t resist smoothing your hand down his arm that’s still over your stomach, but when your fingertips reach his knuckles you feel the broken skin and he stirs at the sting your touch must produce.

His eyes flutter open and god damn he’s pretty. No man has any right being that pretty and the song plays in your head again.

I don't want you to be no slave.

That’s a lie, you’d happily let Rick be your slave.

“Morning,” he mumbles and his slight smile seems hesitant.

“Morning to you,” you say. “Why are we still in bed?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “I told Waller you had food poisoning and that she’d have to send someone else to cover us. Figured you could use the sleep.”

He’s covered your asses with Waller and he’s not pissed about it. Curious. The dots still haven’t quite connected so you lift his hand to look at the injury. Bruised knuckles and broken skin, he’s clearly been in a fight. “What happened?”

“I had a bit of unfinished business with a cowboy.”

Cowboy. The name ignites a flurry of memories that flash through your mind like a lightning storm and everything makes sense now.

Rick must have left after you’d fallen asleep, you recall hearing a door close but it’s fuzzy, the memory feeling like a dream. However, it clearly wasn’t, Rick left to track down the cowboy and beat some manners into him.

“Flag, you could get in serious trouble for that.”

“I know,” he sighs as if he doesn’t care, “but he deserved it.”

You nod. The asshole one hundred percent deserved it and you dread to think what would have happened if Rick hadn’t shown up. You lift his hand to your lips and kiss each bruise and cut. He hisses at the worst one on his middle knuckle and you blow gently on it to dull the sting.

“So,” you say after a quiet moment. Keeping your focus on his hand you point out, “it’s morning.”

“So it is,” he agrees.

You turn your head enough to look at him. “You made me a promise.”

The air gets sucked from the room and all you can hear is the hammering of your own heart against your chest. Rick studies your face, perhaps wondering how much you truly remember or if you're still under the influence. The longer the silence prevails and Rick contemplates whatever it is he’s thinking, panic sets in that he’s going to brush it all off and tell you to forget everything he said. You can’t and you won’t.

“Ask me again,” he says so softly you’d have missed it if you hadn’t seen his lips move.

Relief floods you, it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he wants consent. He needs to know you really want it and it wasn’t some drug induced blunder. So you repeat your same words from the night before, “I dare you to kiss me.”

He props himself up on his elbow and he’s still hesitant as he leans over you. He presses his lips to yours softly and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue over your bottom lip. He lets out a throaty moan when your tongues meet and his hesitation disappears. Rick pulls your body beneath him and he swirls his hips so you can feel how aroused he is.

He breaks the kiss way sooner than you’d have liked but he’s smirking down at you, “does this prove I don’t hate you?”

You hum and copy his teasing smirk, “maybe, but keep going just so I can be sure.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs and dips to kiss you again.

Dabbling in DC: @xoxabs88xox / @petitgateau911

Risking it all for Rick Flag: @cockslut-padalecki

#RickFlag #anyfandomfluffbingo #rickflagbingo #DC #DCU #ColonelRickFlag #dcmultiverse #enemies to lovers #Rick Flag #RickFlagFluff #joel kinnaman #fanfic #dc fanfic

183 notes · View notes

alkalinefrog · 3 years

Note

may I request your top 10 favorie lawlight fics ?? I’m really interested

AIGHT BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP because I’ve got a lot of feelings about these! Also, people have been asking me for fics featuring:

Ryuk shenanigans

yagami sibling hijinks

whammy kids found family

----- from my bingo card I made a while back. Tbh, I put those on the list to try and manifest the energy into the universe hoping people would bring fics to ME about them lmao. I do have a couple that check the boxes though!

Also thank you to everyone who’s been recommending me fics!! You’ve all hit the nail on the head and sing straight to my heart! I’m just slow to make my way through them between work. <3

GOING UNDER THE CUT (rip mobile users)

Aight here we go, in no particular order:

“Change OR the one where L and Light get married” by @translightyagami (I’m so sorry I keep tagging you in these alsfjkalsfdj)

The one I never shut up about and am adapting part of into a comic because it’s just that GOOD. :’’’D Light and L get married in front of Watari and Light’s family back at the Whammy orphanage in England. A melancholy yet painfully sweet tale as Light and L reminisce on their history together while getting ready for the ceremony, and their first night together afterwards. Single-handedly sold me on Kira being intrinsically part of Light to boot.

“the forest holds strange creatures” by @translightyagami (I’m sorryyyyyyy I just love your stuff)

An AU where Light’s a paranormal researcher and L’s a reclusive cryptid living in the forest next to a small town. The writing has a fairytale feel to it, and the romance is so gentle. Light’s bunking at Whammy’s small little house, and Near and Mello are there as little kids pestering Light. It’s ADORABLE. Beyond Birthday also shows up in one of the extra chapters as a creepy cashier at a thrift shop for double the fun!

"Sickness” by BlueberryValentine (more fics on their fanfiction.net account!)

The ultimate hurt/comfort + fluff + angst with a happy ending fic. The first fic I read to get back into lawlight a couple months back! Canon divergence starting during the Yotsuba arc. Light is diagnosed with terminal brain cancer while still under investigation. L has to take care of him, and somewhere along the way they fall in love. It carved out a chunk of my heart but luckily filled it back up with a sweet sort of aching.

“Seeking His Hand” by magic__mind

Historical regency AU! L is a rich nobleman courting Light, a humble farm boy, for his hand in marriage. One of the most romantic pieces of literature that I have ever come across. The prose is pure poetry, and their love so pure! This one also has a special place in my heart for its portrayal of Misa! She’s A)a spy who helps L on his cases, B)totally removed from her co-dependence for Light, C)the bubbly badass she was always meant to be. 100/10 worth the read!

The “Resurrections” Series by Shadow_of_Quill

A modern Orpheus and Euridice story, wherein Light’s spirit leads L back from Hades while he’s still Kira. L is thereby present for the confrontation at the warehouse. Believing that any trace of Light is lost in the man, he executes him right then and there. However, this was a grave mistake, and Light’s soul won’t be as easily revived. (spoilers, they’re both fine in the end) ******* THIS ONE ALSO INCLUDES YAGAMI SIBLING HIJINKS. Sayu plays a HUGE role in bringing Light back!

“Is This The Way It Ends Now?” by Seastar98

The one that checks off ALL the above three boxes!! A “characters watch their own show” fic, wherein the gang receives a mysterious DVD in the middle of the Yotsuba arc. Horrified by what’s to come, Light and L work to make sure their future is brighter than the one they witness. They bring in all three heirs to watch with ‘em, everyone gets character development, and Sayu comes in like black panther in endgame yet again to bring Light back from the darkness! Ryuk pops up in the end and the epilogue and he’s great. The ultimate and most direct fix-it you’re ever gonna get.

“From the Same Star” by Nilahxapiel

This is my only pure “Ryuk Shenanigans” fic, and it’s really really sad :’’’D A short but sweet one-shot wherein Ryuk traverses multiple dimensions, dropping the Death Note at Light’s feet each time. Light and L were always fated to clash, and it’s just as heartbreaking every time.

“Primitive Liars” by Nilahxapiel

This one’s super popular in the fandom for a reason! The only omegaverse fic that I’ve liked! The A/B/O dynamics and their affect on society are super well developed, and the writer manages to keep L and Light very in character while still developing their budding romance in a believable way. This is an AU where somebody else is Kira, and Light’s genuinely helping L and the task force hunt him down. ***** Naomi Misora lives, the heirs come in, and Sayu actually hops aboard the task force!!! DUDE. BRILLIANT. I also just love the exploration of gender and identity that the author weaves in. Lots of LGBTQ rep!

“and indeed there will be time” by lawlietismyfavorite

The ultimate soulmate AU. People grow to be 18, then stop aging until they meet their one. L is the greatest detective of not only this century, but of six centuries. And then there's Light. (taken straight from the description!) The prose is absolutely breathtaking; like walking through a dream. Can not recommend this fic enough! It’s got my head up in the clouds and looking towards the stars!

“K” by Dlvvanzor

AU where Light’s a Whammy with the moniker ‘K.’ He and L grow up together along with kiddos covering the rest of the alphabet. A murder-mystery-thriller on top of the romance featuring Beyond Birthday as a main character! Light’s a pathological liar and L’s super into it. They’re the top students at Whammy’s and are tasked with solving a string of homicides happening RIGHT AT THE ORPHANAGE (guess who dunnit). It had me on the edge of my seat, and I binged the whole thing in two days.

i’mMMMM doing more than 10, this’ll just be my ultimate fic rec post 😂

“Change of Circumstances” by wordbombs

Another AU where Light’s a whammy! It’s just a one-shot though, but one of my all time faves!!! I’ve gone back and reread it so many times and drew some stuff for it a couple weeks back. Much more light-hearted than “K”, Light arrives at the orphanage at age four and meets an eleven year old L, and from there they grow up together and fall in love (the age difference is handled really well, L’s not physically present for a lot of Light’s childhood and they bond on a platonic level first). It’s one of the healthiest relationship dynamics that I’ve seen for these two, which is honestly such a breath of fresh air. Matt, Mello, and Near are there too in the background!

“Dial K for Kira” by @kiranatrix

“Light needs some easy money to finance his Kira plans, and notices there’s a big demand for Kira roleplay phone sex. So he figures, “Why not? Pretty sure I’ll be convincing.”He raises some fast cash and plans to shut the whole thing down and get back to writing names, until he gets a request from somebody who wants to “roleplay” as L....“

Taken straight from the description! It’s very VERY NSFW so be warned. I’m too shy to talk about it more alskfjdasldjf sorry BUT IT’S GREAT.

“Dance with Me” and “Birthday Note” by @dotti55fanfiction

These are both one-shots so I’m putting ‘em together! Absolutely adorable tooth-rotting fluff!! “Dance with Me” has Light and L going to a club, while “Birthday Note” features L trying to think of the best present for Light. The dictionary definition of “warm fuzzies.” (Dotti ilu, I still gotta find time to read your longer works)

“you’re a wasp nest” by raisuki (inthegripofahurricane)

Blind!Light AU! Light and L are both college students who meet when Sayu dares L to break into her house. Yagami sibling hijinksssss! Their quippy dialogue is adorable and it’s just a fun time watching them flirt.

“softly now” by smallestbird (jenwryn)

THANK YOU TO THE ANON WHO SENT ME THIS REC. The softest lawlight one-shot to finish off this list! Light and L share an intimate moment while painting their new apartment. The absolute JOY this fic radiates in a short 700 words!! Read it before bed for the sweetest dreams!

These are just my favourites, but read anything by any of these authors and you will not be disappointed! I might make a separate post later for soulmate AUs because... There’s just too many. :’D

-Alka

#Anonymous #ask #fic rec #lawlight #text #when you meet a work deadline and use the extra time to catch up on asks lol

393 notes · View notes

fanfics4all · 3 years

Text

Torture

Request: Yes / No

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Harry Potter x Fem!Lupin!Reader

Word count: 4190 (Probably could have gotten to the torture party quicker, but I just had to add backstory lol)

Warnings: Torture obviously, and Dobby’s death

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

A/N: Bingo card made by @slyttherins

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Harry and I have been together since he and Cho broke up. Now we were in our seventh year and everything was going to hell. Professor Snape had killed Dumbledore and was now in charge of Hogwarts. I feared going back to school, but I feared for Harry more. So, when the summer was coming to an end and my older brother Remus said he was going with the Order to Harry’s I immediately demanded to go with him.

“Y/N/N, it’s dangerous.” He said.

“This is my boyfriend’s life in danger. I am coming with you.” I said, standing my ground.

“Y/N/N… if anything happened to you Mum and Dad would kill me.” He sighed.

“If anything happens to you or Harry, you won’t have to worry about Mum and Dad.” I threatened.

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay home with Edward, is there?” He sighed again.

“Not a thing. And if you go without me I’ll just follow you.” I shrugged and he sighed once again.

“Fine, fine. You can join me, but you better not leave my side.” He said and I smiled.

“Thank you!” I said and hugged him.

Before we went off to Harry’s house, The Order met up to discuss what would be happening. You-Know-Who was searching for Harry. He was going to go after him and we needed to act first. We were the only line of defence for Harry and I was going to fight for both our lives till the very end. Once the plan was in order we all got on our brooms and headed for Harry. When we all landed Harry opened the door and I ran up to him, throwing my arms around him and holding him tightly. He hugged me back and I leaned up to kiss him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked shocked.

“Did you honestly think I would just sit around while your life was in danger?” I laughed and walked into the room with the others.

“I tried to get her to stay home, but she’s stubborn.” Remus said and I smiled.

“All righ’ ‘arry? Yeh look fit.” Hagrid said with a smile.

“Yeah, he’s ruddy gorgeous. What say we get undercover before someone murders him.” Mad-Eye said in his usual rough tone.

“I thought you were looking after the Prime Minister, Kingsley?” Harry asked.

“You’re most important.” Kingsley answered. Harry smiled and Bill Weasley walked in, extending his hand to Harry.

“Hello, Harry. Bill Weasley.” He introduced himself.

“Wasn’t alway this handsome.” Fred joked.

“Dead ugly.” George joined in.

“True enough. Owe it all to a werewolf by the name of Greyback. Hope to repay the favor one day.” Bill said. Fleur walked in next to him and kissed his cheek.

“You are still beautiful to me, William.” She said.

“Just remember, Fleur, once you’re married, Bill takes his steaks on the raw side now.” Remus said, finally walking into the room with Tonks.

“My husband, the joker. By the way, wait until you hear the news! Remus and I are-”

“Alright, alright! You’ll all have time for a cozy catch-up later! We’ve got to get the hell out of here and soon!” Mad-Eye cut her off. He dropped a sack by his feet and turned to Harry.

“Potter, you’re underage, which means you’ve still got the Trace on you.” He said.

“The Trace?” Harry asked.

“You sneeze and the Ministry will know who wipes your nose. Point is, we have to use those means of transport the Trace can’t detect, brooms, thestrals, and the like. We’ll go in pairs. That way if anyone’s out there waiting for us- and I reckon there will be- they won’t know which Harry Potter is the real one.” He explained.

“The real one?” Harry asked.

“I believe you’re familiar with this particular brew.” He said, pulling out a flask.

“No! Absolutely not!” Harry exclaimed.

“I told you he’d take it well.” Hermione sighed.

“If you think I’m going to let people risk their lives for me-”

“Never done that before, have we?” Ron joked, cutting him off.

“This is different. Taking that. Becoming me- no.” Harry said.

“Well, none of us really fancy it, mate.” Fred said.

“Yeah, imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as scrawny, specky git forever.” George joked.

“Reckon Y/N would love having more than one Harry.” Fred added and I rolled my eyes.

“Piss off, the both of you.” I said and they laughed.

“Everyone here’s of age, Potter, and they’ve all agreed to take the risk.” Mad-Eye said.

“Technically, I’ve been coerced. Mundungus Fletcher, Mr. Potter. I’ve always been a huge admirer.” Mundungus introduced and just about everyone rolled their eyes.

“Nip it, Mundungus! Alright, Granger, as discussed.” Mad-Eye said. Hermione nodded slightly and grabbed a bit of Harry’s hair and pulled.

“Blimey, Hermione!” Harry groaned.

“Straight in here, if you please.” Mad-Eye said, holding open the flask. Smoke rushed out the top and he handed it to George first.

“For those of you who haven’t taken Polyjuice Potion before, fair warning. It tastes like goblin piss.” Mad-Eye said.

“Have a lot of experience with that, do you, Mad-eye?” Fred joked. Mad-Eye’s eye rotated towards Fred.

“Just trying to defuse the tension.” Fred said. George took the first sip, then Fred, Ron, Hermione, Fleure, Mundungus, and finally it was passed to me.

“Y/N? No! Lupin, you can’t seriously be alright with this!” Harry said, before I could take a sip. Everyone else was already transforming.

“I’m not, but like I said, she’s stubborn.” Remus sighed.

“Who’s she gonna ride with?” He asked and everyone was silent. That was something they haven’t figured out yet.

“I’ll go on my own. They won’t expect it and probably will just leave me be.” I shrugged.

“Absolutely not!” Remus said.

“It would look less specious than two Harrys riding together.” I pointed out.

“Very well.” Mad-Eye nodded.

“What? You can’t be serious! What if she gets hurt? There’s no one with her to protect her!” Remus said.

“She can’t go on her own!” Harry said.

“Y/N, are you willing to take the risk?” Mad-Eye asked and everyone looked my way.

“If it means Harry is safe, then of course.” I answered.

“She agrees, now hurry up and drink so we can get on with this.” He said. Before my brother or boyfriend could stop me I took a gulp of the awful potion and handed the flask back to Mad-Eye. I soon also looked like Harry.

“Wow, we’re identical!” Fred and George said together.

“Not yet you aren’t.” Mad-Eye said. He walked over to the sack he dropped earlier and dumped out eight pairs of identical clothing.

“Don’t you have something a bit more sporty, do you?” George asked.

“Yes, don’t fancy this colour at all.” Fred agreed.

“Fancy this, you’re not you, so shut it and strip.” He said to the twins and turned to Harry.

“You’ll need to change too, Potter.” He said. All of us started stripping, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say that it was a bit awkward.

“Bill, look away… I’m ‘ideous.” Fleur said dramatically and I rolled my eyes.

“I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo!” Ron said with a smirk.

“Harry, your eyesight really is awful.” Hermione said, wobbling a bit.

“Don’t worry Harry, I still love you.” I said and he smiled.

“Blimey. I almost forgot!” Mad-Eye rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a bunch of glasses.

“Right then. We’ll be pairing off. Each Potter will have a protector, except for Y/N, As for you, Harry…” Mad-Eye started.

“Yes?” Everyone but me answered, again I rolled my eyes.

“The real Harry! Where the devil are you, anyway?” He asked.

“Here.” Harry said, walking towards him.

“You’ll ride with Hagrid.” He finished.

“Brought yeh here sixteen years ago when you were barely bigger than a Bowtruckle. Seems only righ’ I should be the one ter take yeh away.” Hagrid said and I smiled at how sentimental he could be.

“Yeah, it’s all very touching. Let’s go.” Mad-Eye said and stormed out of the house. Everyone got on their brooms and thestrals, while Hagrid got on his motorbike. As the real Harry walked out of the house Hagrid tapped the sidecar for him. Instead of going to him he walked over to me.

“Please be careful, love.” He whispered.

“I’ll be fine. And if for some reason I’m not then you and Remus can tell me you told me so.” I smirked.

“Harry, we need ter go!” Hagrid called him.

“Go, I’ll see you soon.” I smiled and he nodded. He got in Hagrid’s sidecar and everyone looked towards Mad-Eye.

“Good luck, everyone. On the count of three. One… two…” Before he could finish Hagrid’s bike came to life and off he went. Everyone flew to the skies and split off. It wasn’t long until an uneasy feeling filled the air. Death Eaters dropped from the clouds and started surrounding us. Green flashes lit up the sky as they tried to hit us. I glanced ahead and saw the real Harry was getting away. Everyone was splitting off more and I found myself alone. I couldn’t see anyone ahead or behind me, no one was around to help me if I needed it. I pushed those thoughts away. This is for Harry. This is so he’s safe. Suddenly three Death Eaters came out of nowhere and shot a spell at my broom. My broom stopped flying and was now pulling me towards the ground. Fear gripped my heart as the wind harshly hit my face. I suddenly stopped falling and was grabbed by one of the Death Eaters.

“Think he’s the real one?” The one holding me asked.

“No, they wouldn’t let the real Potter go off on his own.” Another answered.

“Doesn’t matter if he’s the real one or not, he could have information. Let’s take him with us. Bellatrix will get ‘im to talk.” The last one said. My eyes widened and my throat went dry. Harry and Remus were going to kill me if Bellatrix didn’t first.

I didn’t say a word as we arrived at Malfoy Manor. I knew the potion was going to wear off soon and they would know exactly who I was. Just as we were arriving at the large gate I could feel myself turning back into myself.

“Oi, looks like you was right, this ain’t the real Potter.” The one gripping my arm said.

“She’ll still be of some use.” Another said. We walked up to the gate and standing on the other side was Bellatrix, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy. Bellatrix walked forward and the Death Eater holding me pushed me against the metal bars.

“She was a fake Potter, but we thought she might have information.” One said.

“Bring her in.” Bellatrix said with an evil smirk. I was roughly brought into the Manor and pushed down to my knees.

“Call Draco, he might know who she is to Potter.” Bellatrix said. She kneeled down in front of me and roughly pulled my chin up to I was facing her.

“Tell me dearie, why were you left all on your own?” She asked, but I said nothing.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” She asked with a smirk. We heard footsteps enter the room and I saw Draco. His eyes widened slightly and I saw worry swimming in them.

“Draco, I was hoping you would know who our guest is.” Bellatrix said, turning to face him and letting go of my face.

“S-She went to Hogwarts.” He answered. It was obvious he was scared and that he didn’t want to give me up.

“We know that much, but who is she to Potter?” She asked in a slightly annoyed tone. Draco stared at me for a moment and gulped.

“Now Draco, all you need to do is tell us. She could be the key to keeping the Dark Lord from killing all of us.” His Father said. It was now my turn to gulp. Sure Draco was a huge git to my boyfriend and friends, but he oddly never said anything about me. Always just questioning why I was with Harry. Perhaps it was because I was nice to him despite everything he did.

“I’m Y/N Lupin. Harry’s girlfriend.” I answered and everyone looked at me in shock, Draco especially.

“See dear, that wasn’t so hard.” Bellatrix said, her smirk growing and seeming to get more evil.

“If you simply answer all my questions then no harm will come to you.” She said, walking closer to me again.

“I will not betray my friends, family, or boyfriend.” I answered with a hard stare.

“Then this will be a very hard time for you.” She said, her fake kindness dropping.

She wasn’t lying when she said that. At first it was just little cuts with her knife. It was painful, but nothing I couldn’t handle. However, she was just warming up. She then moved on to the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Even when the spell was over the pain still lingered for a little while. That lasted a month or so, I’m not entirely sure, but once she realized that I wouldn’t be talking by that means she moved on. She said she didn’t want to damage me to the point I couldn’t say anything. Nothing she was doing was working and I could tell she was getting frustrated. That’s when she had her brilliant idea. She brought me up from the cellar and standing there was Lucius, Narcissa, and Grayback. I felt my blood run cold and boil at the same time. He was the man that hurt my poor brother at the age of five!

“I’m sure you know Fenrir well.” Bellatrix smirked. She pushed me to the ground and held me down.

“Now, I’m going to let him do the same thing he did to your brother, unless you tell me what I want to know.” She said.

“Where is Harry Potter?” She asked.

“Now that you’ve all taken over the Ministry, he could be anywhere.” I answered. I didn’t know where he would be at this point. I didn’t know what the plan was.

“Liar!” She shouted and started carving something into my arm.

“Tell me where he is!” She shouted at me.

“I don’t know! Please! I don’t know!” I cried out in pain.

“You are a pathetic little liar. Fenrir!” She called and got off me.

“I think it’s time you gave her a little gift.” She said, that evil smirk appearing on her face once again.

“With pleasure.” He smirked. He crawled over to me and sniffed me. He laughed and licked the blood that split from my arm.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” He said and bit into the same arm that Bellatrix carved into. I screamed and cried as his sharp teeth drug into my skin. He was suddenly pulled off me and Narcissa was there placing something on my arm.

“Wormtail! Come lock our new little puppy up. I suspect she’ll become hungry soon.” Bellatrix smirked. I was pulled off the ground and brought back down to the cellar. Wormtail locked a metal collar around my neck and smirked.

“Be a good dog and keep the howling down.” He said and left with a laugh.

It wasn’t long after he left that I started transforming. I thought the Cruciatus Curse was the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but that was wrong. Transforming into a werewolf was way more painful. It felt as though all my bones were breaking and shifting into different places. It felt like my mind was going hazy and I had no control over myself. I felt the hunger hit me and the need to hunt became strong. I tried to run, but the collar around my neck kept me in place. I screamed, growled, and howled trying to get out of the chains and to something to eat. When I realized that I couldn't, I started hurting myself. I clawed at my neck and arms, ripping the skin from my body. That was the longest night of my life. And the next few days I felt incredibly ill and weak. It didn’t help that they were hardly feeding me anymore.

That was how it went from then on. They didn’t bother torturing me for information anymore, I was now torturing myself. They had done the worst to me and now were just leaving me with my own thoughts. Remus would blame himself for this. I know he was going to say how he should have tried harder to make me stay home. Or how he should have made sure he was with me the night we all split up. I knew Harry would blame himself too. He’d say how it was his fault all this happened. All because I was with him.

“Y/N?” Someone asked quietly and I looked up to see Draco. He was standing over me and I pushed myself closer to the wall.

“Please, don’t come any closer…” I whispered.

“What did they do to you?” He asked, kneeling down, but not coming extremely close.

“They made me like my brother…” I answered and his eyes widened.

“Grayback?” He asked and I nodded.

“They’ve kidnapped Luna, they’re bringing her here.” He said.

“They’re keeping her with me? I’ll kill her!” I cried.

“No, you won’t. You’re locked up and can’t get to her, she’s smart enough to not come near you.” He said.

“I’ll bring you something to eat later tonight, I know they’re starving you.” He said.

“Why do you care so much?” I asked.

“You’re one of the only people who was ever nice to me.” He answered with a small smile and stood up.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He said and left.

Just as Draco said, Luna was thrown into the cellar with me. She looked at me with wide eyes and came towards me.

“Y/N?” She asked.

“Luna, stay away.” I said.

“Why? Why are you in chains?” She asked confused.

“I-I’m a werewolf now… So please just stay away.” I begged.

“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry.” She said and took a few steps my way.

“Please Luna! Just stay back, I don’t want to hurt anyone.” I cried.

“You’re not in your wolf for now Y/N, you won’t hurt me.” She smiled and came to sit next to me.

“I don’t know when the full moon is…” I whispered.

“Then I’ll stay away at night, but you need a friend right now.” She said and hugged me. It was the first kind touch I had since I got here. She was right, I needed that.

A month went by and as promised Luna stayed away from me each night to be safe. When the night was finished and I was back to human Luna came to comfort me. She helped keep me distracted and even helped Draco when he came to check on me. The two of them patched up my wounds that I had given myself. Luna was sitting with me and talking about something her Dad had written about in their paper. I tried to pay attention, but my mind kept drifting off to Harry and my brother.

“What are we gonna do? We can’t leave Hermione alone with her!” A new voice said and Luna and I looked at each other confused.

“Ron?” She asked as she got up and looked around the corner.

“Harry?” She asked and my heart skipped a beat.

“Luna?” Harry asked and a few tears fell down my face.

“Y/N is here too, just this way.” She said. She came back around the corner with Ron and Harry following her.

“Y/N!” Harry said, his face looking a bit odd, but it was definitely him. He ran up and hugged me and I held him back.

“What happened to you? Why are you locked up like this?” He asked, worry clear in his voice

“They tried to get me to tell them where you were…” I answered.

“What did they do to you?” He asked again.

“Grayback…” I whispered and his eyes widened.

“You’re…” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

“I’m just like Remus now…” I whispered.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” He said and pulled me to him.

“We’ll get you out of here, I promise.

“There’s no way out of here. We’ve tried everything. It’s enchanted.” Ollivander said. He was here before I was, same with Griphook. Harry pulled up his pant leg and pulled out a piece of mirror.

“You’re bleeding, Harry. That’s a curious thing to keep in your sock.” Luna said.

“Help us.” He whispered to it. Then quickly put it away as footsteps grew closer. Ron and Harry ran towards the door as it opened.

“Let her go!” Ron growled.

“Shut up! Get back!” Wormtail growled at them.

“You, goblin, come with me.” He said and then they left.

“Aah!” A new voice said suddenly.

“Dobby? What are you doing here?” Harry asked.

“Dobby has come to rescue Harry Potter, of course.” He answered.

“Dobby will always be there for Harry Potter.” He added.

“You can apparate in and out of this room? Could you take us with you?” Harry asked.

“Of course, sir. I’m an elf.” Dobby answered like it was obvious.

“Works for me.” Ron said.

“Dobby, I want you to take Luna, Y/N, and Mr. Ollivander-”

“Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth.” Ron cut him off.

“Trust me.” He added.

“Whenever you’re ready, sir.” Luna said.

“Sir? I like her very much.” Dobby said and they made their way over to me.

“Meet me at the top of the stairs in ten seconds.” He said and Luna grabbed my hand. We were suddenly out of the cellar and on a beach. There was a little cottage that was quite cute, I wondered who it belonged to. Luna kneeled next to me and smiled.

“Are you alright?” She asked. I felt my neck and the chain was no longer on my neck, but I felt some blood dripping down from where it dug into my skin.

“I should be, but I shouldn’t be around anyone. The next full moon could be soon for all I know.” I said, slightly freaking out at just the thought of hurting my friends.

“Shh Y/N, we’re free and safe now. Just enjoy that.” She smiled. I suppose she was right, but Harry wasn’t with us yet.

It wasn’t that long until the others arrived. Their landing was a little rougher than ours, however.

“You’re alright. We’re safe. We’re all safe.” Ron said to Hermione.

“Harry Potter.” Dobby said and we all looked at him.

“Dobby. Dobby! No, just… hold on.” Harry said and ran to him, holding him in his arms.

“Hold on. Look, just hold on, okay?” Harry begged.

“We’ll fix you. Hermione will have something. In your bag, Hermione? Hermione? What is it? Help me!” Harry begged, but she didn’t move.

“Such a beautiful place… to be with friends. Dobby is happy to be with his friend… Harry Potter.” Dobby said, his last words he’ll ever speak. No one moved except for Luna.

“We should close his eyes, don’t you think?” She said, kneeling next to them. Harry nodded and she gently closed his eyes.

“There. Now he could be sleeping.” She said.

“I want to bury him. Properly, without magic.” He said and everyone nodded. I got up and made my way to him.

“I’ll help you.” I said and he nodded. We all buried him without magic, but in the end it was just Harry and I left at his grave.

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I should have stopped you from taking that stupid potion.” He said and I shook my head.

“Stop it. This isn’t your fault.” I said.

“Yes it is Y/N, it is entirely my fault! You were brought into this mess because of me!” He said and I hushed him with a kiss.

“Stop it. I love you Harry Potter and I would have done this no matter what. You and Remus are going to blame yourselves for the rest of your lives, but I will not ever blame either of you.” I said and he went to say something, but I stopped him with a kiss.

“Whatever it is, don’t say it.” I said and he sighed.

“Remus is going to kill me.” He said and I shook my head.

“Not if he knows what’s good for him.” I said. That was when everything turned around. I was safe and with Harry and my friends. I’d allow myself these few moments of peace before the full moon came to ruin it again. But for now, I need to focus on the good. I needed to be happy that I was reunited with Harry and my friends.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @vanessa-kom-skaikru @impulse-anchor @vamora

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter and the deathly hallows part 1 #harry potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry x reader #Harry x fem!Reader #harry x lupin!reader #harry potter x lupin!reader #Remus Lupin #remus x siser!reader #remus lupin x sister!reader #fanfic #torture #harry potter bingo

119 notes · View notes

deanwinchesterswitch · 3 years

Text

A Wedding to Remember {Part One}

Summary: It’s the Winchester brother’s annual road trip to Vegas, and Dean has insisted you join them. Gambling, copious amounts of alcohol, and Sam leaving you and Dean on your own make for an eventful trip.

Word Count: 5665 (I haven’t written anything in months, and then this happened.)

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, language, fragmentary alcohol-induced blackout, hangover from hell (I’ve had this hangover-wish I had the same outcome.), a little bit of fluff if you squint

Credits: @cleighwrites thank you so much my lovely friend for your help (beta/editing/suggestions)! Couldn’t have finished it without you.

A/N: Pre-COVID. Canon divergent. Let’s pretend that Dean isn’t wanted for murder, and using his real name won’t end with the feds showing up and hauling him off to prison. The challenge prompt and bingo card quotes are in bold italic. If you are not familiar with Las Vegas, all the locations and attractions mentioned in the fic are real. The Fremont Experience includes a Viva Vision Light Show.

Written for Maries 600 Follower Challenge. My challenge prompts were “What are we doing here?” and Las Vegas.

I also filled a square on my SPN Quote Bingo /@spnquotebingo / square filled “I don’t know if I even find you attractive.”

The incessant buzzing sounds like a nest of angry hornets has taken up residence inside your skull. “Fuck… please, stop.”

Peeling open an eyelid, you groan—the diffused light is too bright, the soft rustle of sheets is too loud, the sweet smell of cinnamon is too strong. As your eyelid snaps closed, you catch sight of dark wooden beams against a pale gray backdrop.

Before you have time to process the image, a sound like a freight train fills your ears, and you turn your head to see Dean roll onto his side with a loud grunting snore. The small movement makes you whine, every cell in your body crying out in agony.

What the hell happened to me? Why the hell is Dean in my bed? And just where the hell is that cinnamon smell coming from?

The floor to ceiling glass wall you are now staring through beyond the curve of his shoulder takes your breath away. The view of the setting sun and a private balcony pool surrounded by lush tropical plants does nothing to soothe the anxiety beginning to grow inside you.

Where the hell are we?

You’re afraid to move, but need to use the bathroom, so you carefully roll to the side and let your legs fall off the edge of the mattress, then push yourself upright, a small sob escaping with every flex of muscle. As soon as you stand up, your legs give way beneath you, and you land on the lush carpet with a thud. The soft fibers feel like tiny little bugs crawling over your skin; you shudder and beseech the universe to kill you now. As you lie there contemplating the life choices that led you here, a soft rush of cool air causes your skin to pebble as the air conditioning kicks on, bringing along the realization that you’re wearing nothing but your underwear.

Seriously, what the fuck happened?

With a soft groan, you extend your arm and grip the bedding, using it to pull yourself up slowly. You peer at Dean’s shirtless back over the edge of the mattress, leaving you with the assumption that he is either sleeping in his boxers or is naked. Either way, it’s not good. Eyes darting around the room, you find a trail of your and Dean’s clothes leading from the door to the bed.

The hammering in your head increases as your heart pounds against your ribcage. Having sex with Dean was something you swore to yourself would never happen. One, he’s your best friend, and B, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t become another name in the long list of women he’d slept with. You love the man dearly but are well aware of his reluctance of settling down with anyone for fear of putting them in harm’s way. You’re also quite aware of the consequences of pursuing anything further than the close friendship you currently enjoyed; it would lead to nothing but heartbreak.

Damn, this is bad.

You rest your forehead on the mattress and silently pray that your assumption is wrong. Moments later, it feels like some alien creature is literally trying to claw its way out of your abdomen, and you stumble to the bathroom just in time to empty the entire contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Tears seep from your eyes when the dry heaves set in; you’d gladly suffer the pain of torture at a demon’s hand to be rid of this hangover. The cool tile helps to diminish the heat of your flushed skin as you lie on the floor after your body finally stops retching. The smell of cinnamon drifts past your nose again, and you realize that it’s coming from an automatic room freshener.

Several minutes later, you roll to your back, and when the room, thankfully, remains still, you carefully sit up. Eventually, you manipulate your aching body to stand in front of the vanity, squinting at your reflection as you lean against the sink. Tiny black flecks of mascara speckle the dark circles under your eyes; your hair is plastered to your head on the left side and sticking up in every direction possible on the right. Smacking your dry lips together and gagging at the taste on your tongue, you reach for the small bottle of complimentary mouthwash and rinse out your mouth.

The fluffy, grey washcloth is soft to the touch when you pull it from the rack to wet it under the hot water. Covering your face with the cloth, you tilt your head back, quickly gripping the sink’s edge when vertigo sets in. Once the dizziness passes, you slide the cloth down your face and catch a bright flash in the reflection from the mirror. Cleaning the gunk and remaining makeup from around your eyes, you drop the cloth to the counter and gape at the peridot and diamond-encrusted silver band encircling the ring finger of your left hand. The sound that fills the air seconds later is almost inhuman.

Holymotherfuckingsonofabitch! No, no, no… is this… Damn, it’s gorgeous! Okay, nope, focus!

Yanking one of the robes from a hook on the wall, you slip your arms through the sleeves as you rush back into the bedroom. Now lying on his stomach, Dean is no longer snoring but is still sound asleep; the sheet has slipped down his body with his movements.

You’d always found his broad shoulders with their dusting of freckles captivating and openly admired them whenever you had the rare opportunity; this time was no different. Taking a calming breath, you stare at the beautiful speckles dotting his smooth pale skin, following the valley of his spine to the tight shapely curve of his cloth-covered ass.

Oh! He’s still in his boxers. That’s a good sign, right?

With a relieved sigh, you pull your eyes away from him and take a look around the room that appears to be more of a large suite. It’s quite stunning—pale grey walls trimmed in dark wood, exposed-beam ceiling, expensive-looking artwork, furniture covered in deep burgundy leather and plush fabric—there’s even a poker table that seats six. A ginormous stuffed turtle stares back at you from its perch on one of the barstools across the room. Its existence presents yet another mystery to solve. Any other time, you would take the opportunity to bask in the luxury surrounding you, but right now, you’re more concerned with how you got here and why you were practically naked in bed with Dean and wearing what appears to be a wedding ring.

Walking through the space, you begin to gather up the articles of clothing that had apparently been stripped off as the two of you had made your way into the room and find a piece of paper lying beneath Dean’s flannel. You stoop to retrieve it, and a loud gasp escapes you as you turn it over and read ‘State of Nevada Marriage Certificate’ across the top. The clothes slip from your grasp when your eyes land on the signatures, one in your fluid cursive and the other in Dean’s neat print above your typed names… your real names.

Son of a bitch!

Shaking uncontrollably, you plop down on top of the clothes you’d abandoned. Your fingers timorously graze the document, hoping it’s just an illusion that will vanish under your touch. The pads of your fingers trace the raised lettering of the official seal, and your heart drops to your stomach as your brain kicks into overdrive. It was official; you and Dean were married—married. Legally, too; you had both used your real names and had an official marriage certificate. When the hell you had managed to get that, you had no idea. You didn’t even remember getting married.

Where the hell was Sam while all this happened? Why didn’t he stop us?

Swiftly standing, you brace a hand against the wall as a wave of dizziness hits you. A couple of deep breaths later, you search for your phone only to find that the battery had died. Dean’s had, too, since you hadn’t returned to your rooms in what was almost 24 hours now.

Not ready to face Dean just yet, you leave him to continue sleeping as you slip out onto the balcony. You sit at the pool’s edge and dangle your feet in the warm water, the open robe hanging loosely on your shoulders. Small waves ripple across the water’s surface as you gently kick your legs and let your mind drift to try to piece together the events that led to this trainwreck.

With no forthcoming cases or looming apocalypses, Dean had declared that it was the perfect time for the annual Winchester brother’s road trip to Vegas, and this time, they invited you to come along for the ride. To say that you were excited was a gross understatement. In the five years you’d known them, they’d never invited you. Dean was the one that insisted that you join them for this trip, which was a bit strange, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was only about an eight-hour drive from Grand Junction, CO, where you all had just taken down a pack of werewolves. You’d left the next morning and had arrived in Vegas around six-thirty that night. Dean had made sure that you had a separate room when checking into one of the older, less expensive casino hotels on the outskirts of town. His behavior once again struck you as odd when you had argued that there was no need for the extra expense, that the money spent on the additional room could be used for gambling. He was adamant, though, so you had finally conceded, secretly happy to have some privacy for once.

Dean found a safe spot to leave Baby—an empty corner of the parking lot—and Sam made arrangements for an Uber to pick you up in an hour. After taking a shower and changing into the dress clothes you always packed—just in case—you met the boys outside your room where your ride was already waiting. Both boys stood by the curb in fresh clothes and with damp hair, freshly showered. Dean’s hair was still spiky from towel-drying it, and he was wearing one of your favorite shirts, the black and white plaid. He’d left the top two buttons undone, and you caught a glimpse of his tattoo as he moved to open the car door for you. He was stunning. Just the sight of him kicked your pulse up a couple of notches, and you quickly turned toward the car before he could notice your ogling.

The driver had dropped the three of you off on Fremont Street. Both Dean and Sam made a beeline for the Paradise Buffet & Café while you trailed behind, taking in the neon spectacle of the Fremont Street Experience. It had been years since you’d been to Vegas, and a lot had changed.

A few minutes later, you’d caught up with the brothers, having decided it was probably best to eat something before all the drinking began. An hour later, you and Sam left Dean to finish his fourth round at the buffet, stopping to take a few pictures before starting your Vegas adventure at Binion’s Gambling Hall.

Your little trio had spent the next three hours or so hitting most of the casinos on Fremont Street. The winnings between all of you had remained relatively modest, as most of the big gambling was saved for The Strip. When you eventually made it to Caesars Palace, Dean abandoned you and Sam to take up residence at one of the poker tables.

Sam wasn’t as keen on gambling as Dean, so the two of you had wandered around the casino just taking in your surroundings and enjoying the free drinks—you played a couple of rounds of Keno, and Sam tried his hand at Baccarat. When he found a set of available slot machines next to each other, he asked if you wanted to sit down for a while, and you gratefully accepted, the shoes you’d chosen to wear already beginning to cause you pain.

Although you should be used to it by now, the juxtaposition in energy when you’d spend one-on-one time with either brother still managed to surprise you. With Dean, there always seemed to be an underlying current of electricity, a raw energy much like the crackling air before lightning strikes. Sam, however, was the calm before the storm; he was a constant, soothing presence. Even amidst the noise of whirring machines and clanging bells, the two of you sat quietly next to each other, peacefully pulling the handles of your slot machines. That was until Sam broke the companionable silence with a surprising question.

“Have you ever thought about getting out of the life, maybe settling down?”

Your hand stilled mid-pull as you cocked your head in his direction. Convinced that the amount of alcohol you had consumed had skewed your hearing, you ask, “Sam, did you just ask me if I want to get married?”

The look of utter panic on Sam’s face had you leaning to the side with laughter, and he’d gently gripped your arm to keep you from sliding off the chair. “I- I didn’t mean to me,” he’d sputtered. “I just meant, in general.” He let go of your arm after making sure you weren’t going to fall out of the chair.

Pushing out your bottom lip, you’d pouted, “What? I’m not good enough for Sam fucking Winchester to marry?”

The look he’d given you almost rivaled the bitchface he generally reserved for Dean. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

You playfully punched him in the shoulder and laughed, “I was only teasing, you big lug.”

He rolled his shoulders and let out an exasperated sigh. When he fell silent again, you snuck a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He seemed to be debating whether to say anything further, but he remained silent and went back to playing slots.

The atmosphere around the two of you felt awkward, so you decided to break the silence. “Hey, is there a reason you asked me that? Are you thinking about it? Have you met someone I don’t know about?”

He brushed his hair behind his ear and turned to you. “No. I think maybe I’ve had a little too much to drink and was just curious.”

You knew Sam well enough to know that he had a reason for asking you but apparently didn’t want to share any details at the time.

“Yeah, I have.” You shrugged when he looked at you in surprise. “I don’t think I could ever leave the life completely, but yeah, it would be nice to settle down one day.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a small smirk, before turning back to the machine in front of him. Everything had seemingly gone back to normal as you sat in comfortable silence once more, teasing each other now and then. It was all very odd, but you figured it was like Sam had said, the alcohol made the two of you feel a little looser, maybe a bit more sentimental.

Sam had bowed out and gone back to the hotel about half an hour later—around 3 a.m.—having won a few hundred dollars at the slot machine.

That was the cause of this runaway train… Sam had left you and Dean to your own devices. And nothing good happens past 2 a.m.

You were feeling rather tipsy at that point and knew it wouldn’t be any fun gambling alone, so you’d set out in search of Dean. He tried to brush you off at first, but once he’d lost his third hand in a row, you were able to convince him to join you.

Much to his dismay, you dragged him to the roulette table. He argued that there was no skill needed to play the game and that you would surely lose everything you bet and then some. You, however, liked the thrill of leaving it all up to luck, merely choosing a color and number. When your winnings had reached a little over two hundred and fifty grand, he profusely apologized, pulling you in for a tight hug and a lingering kiss to your cheek.

That was the first sign of real danger… that kiss. You could still feel the sensation of those soft, supple lips on your cheek.

Trying to hide your reaction to his display of affection, you had laughed and told him that he must be your good luck charm. He agreed and placed a kiss near your temple, lingering a little longer than necessary there, too. Flustered and not sure what to do next, you decided to take your winnings and move on.

Dean wanted to head back to the poker tables, but you talked him into playing Blackjack, where he racked up an impressive sum of two hundred and forty-five grand. When you begged him to leave, telling him you had a gut feeling that the next hand wasn’t going to play out in his favor, he had laughed, saying that you just didn’t want him to beat your winnings, but he lowered his wager for the next round, which he’d lost.

He’d turned to face you and, upon seeing your smug expression, had doubled over in laughter, almost falling out of his chair. Lacing the fingers of both his hands with yours, he’d pulled you in between his thick thighs and whispered in your ear, “Guess we are each other’s good luck charms.”

You remember thinking that his voice had been deep and flirty, the voice he used when trying to pick up some random girl in a bar. You were reasonably drunk at that point, and you’d felt overwhelmed with emotion; you’d turned your head, the scruff on his jaw gently scraping along your cheekbone, and placed a kiss on his cheek. When he’d asked what that was for, you’d said it was a thank you for letting you come along.

His breath was hot against your skin and smelled pleasantly of the expensive whiskey he’d been drinking when he’d rasped, “Let’s get out of here.”

And that was when the train derailed. It was also the last thing you clearly remembered other than Dean and you signing the necessary paperwork for your winnings, only taking a few thousand in cash. Sometime after that, the train had apparently flown entirely off the track and promptly down a steep embankment.

“Hair of the dog?” Dean asks as he comes to stand next to you. Deep in thought, you hadn’t heard him open the sliding doors. When you turn your head to look up at him, you come face to crotch with an impressive bulge.

Quickly dropping your chin, you huff, “For fuck’s sake, Dean; you could have at least put on a robe.” At the mention of a robe, you realize that the one you’re wearing isn’t covering much and quickly gather the fabric around you and tie the belt to keep it in place.

Dean laughs as he plops down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his. “Not anything either one of us hasn’t seen before.” Sliding his legs into the water, he starts to gently kick in time with you. He raises both hands, a bottle of whiskey in one and two bottles of water in the other.

“Give me the water, jackass.” Dean sets the whiskey next to him and hands over a water bottle. “Thank you.”

“Here.” He flattens his palm to reveal the pain relievers he’s also holding, and you accept three of them with a grateful smile before washing them down with a couple of sips of water.

Popping the remaining pills in his mouth, he opens the other water bottle and guzzles it down in a few large gulps.

The two of you silently watch the sun make its final descent over the horizon as you lean against one another. The Vegas skyline’s stunning lights begin to brighten, and you wave your hand to indicate the suite around you and break the silence. “Dean, what are we doing here? What happened after we left Caesars?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he softly replies, “You don’t remember?” His voice is rough, raspier than usual, like he’d been yelling for an extended period. Typically, you’d find it sexy as hell, but right now, it grates along your frayed nerve endings like sandpaper.

“No. I’ve been trying to piece it together.” You try for something maybe a little more specific. “Giant stuffed sea turtle?”

“Circus Circus?”

You nod, the memory slipping forward. The two of you had been strolling down the Midway, Dean’s arm around your shoulders, keeping you close amid the throng of tourists; the closeness also helping to keep both of you upright. You had squealed like a toddler at the sight of the turtle, and Dean had magnanimously vowed to win it for you by playing darts.

“Do you remember where we went after that?”

You shake your head in response just as another memory begins to swirl around the edges of your mind; Dean is yelling at you, wait, no, cheering for you. Something about a cow, no… a bull.

Oh, wow.

“Dean, do you remember riding a mechanical bull?”

“Uhmm…,” he scrubs a hand down his face, “... yeah, yeah, I do. You did too, didn’t you?” A small laugh escapes his lips. “You did pretty well, but I was better; I stayed on the entire time,” he proudly declares.

Ignoring the arch of his eyebrow and arrogant smirk, you try to bring the memory into focus. “Gilley’s Saloon. That’s like almost five miles total, which means we didn’t walk.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t wear my hunting boots.” You tilt your head toward the front door of the suite. “There’s no way I’d walk five miles in those shoes.”

“I could have carried you.”

The look of disbelief you give him actually hurts your face.

“What? I’ve given you piggyback rides before,” he shrugs.

“Not for five miles, when we were obviously drunk out of our minds!” Another memory flashes in your mind. “Oh. A limo… we had a limo. The concierge from Caesars—Tom, no, Tony—he got us a car.” But that’s it; nothing else is forthcoming. Frustrated, you rub small circles into the skin at your temples.

“Uh, Y/N?” Dean grips your left hand, pointedly looking at the ring on your finger. “You’re wearing a wedding ring.”

With a beleaguered sigh, you whisper, “Apparently.” Rising to stand, you tug at Dean’s hand, indicating he should follow you.

He slowly rises to his feet, careful not to slip on the wet tile. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Squeezing his hand, you pull him along as you walk back into the suite. “Come on; there’s something you should see.”

Once inside, you let go of his hand and plop down onto the buttery soft leather couch, while Dean slumps into one of the overstuffed chairs opposite you. After taking one more look at the paper lying on the table, you slowly slide it over to him.

Dean’s brows furrow before rising in shock as his eyes drift down the page. “Is this… did we... “ Without lifting his head, he looks up at you, mouth in the shape of a silent, oh. “We… we’re married.” The corner of his mouth lifts into a smug smile. “You know what that means, right?” When he wiggles his eyebrows at you, it sends your anxiety into overdrive.

“Dammit, Dean, this is serious! Did you look at the signatures?” Jabbing a finger in the direction of the marriage certificate, you shriek, “We used our real names! That is a legal and binding document.” Jumping up, you pace in front of the couch, wildly gesturing with your hands. “Do you even remember getting married? Because I don’t! Not remembering my wedding day is not something I ever dreamed of happening. And what else did we do that we don’t remember?” You start to hyperventilate as you continue to pace. “I mean, we could have fucking killed someone or started another damn apocalypse and have no fucking clue!”

“Okay, whoa!” Dean gets up and takes a step over the coffee table to stand in front of you. Resting his hands on your shoulders, he looks you in the eye. “Hey, calm down, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Your hands clench into fists, and you shake them out with a huff. “Yeah- yeah, okay.” His touch is both electrifying and calming; it would be so easy just to fall into his embrace and let the steady beat of his heart soothe your frayed nerves. You nod your head and turn out of his grasp, taking a couple of steps away before he can see the emotion you can only imagine is written all over your face.

“Y/N?”

“I’m alright.” Spinning back to face him, you plaster a smile on your face. “So, what do we do now?”

Dean’s gaze is intent before he startles you with a shout. “Wait! Where’s the money?” Racing into the bedroom, he comes back with his jeans in hand and unceremoniously tosses your bag to you. Pulling out his wallet, he sits back down to count the bills. “I have a little over two grand; what’ve you got?”

Opening the small bag, you pull out a wad of bills and lay them out on the table to count. “Just under a grand,” you reply after your third attempt at tallying up the money.

“Son of a bitch! Where’s the rest of it?” Dean hops up from the chair again to pace the floor. “I swear, if we were robbed—”

“Easy there, cowboy,” you laugh. “It’s not like in the movies. Casinos don’t just hand over large sums of money to the winners. We had to fill out paperwork, remember? We only took twenty… no, ten grand in cash. They’ll send us, well, the ‘Campbells’, cashier’s checks for the balance after they deduct taxes.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Fine, but that still leaves us short about seven thousand.”

Pointing to the ring on your left hand, you huff, “Well, this probably cost around three grand, easy.”

“So what happened to the other four grand?” You watch as Dean stuffs the bills back into his wallet, partially pulling a slip of paper out before sliding it back into place. “The room.”

“Maybe…,” you huff. “I’m more concerned about this marriage certificate than I am the money.” Pulling the document closer, you point to the signatures. “I mean, how the hell did we get away with using our real names? It’s not like we have our real IDs.” You take a moment to think, then snap your fingers and exclaim, “Hey, maybe that’s where the rest of the money went. Maybe we bribed them.”

Tapping your finger on the paper, you continue to ponder. “I still don’t understand why we’d use our real names. Or why the hell we got married in the first place.”

“Is it really that horrible that we’re married?”

The tone in his voice makes your head snap in his direction. His face is unreadable as you try to determine what he meant. The silence grows heavy between you as you continue to stare at each other. He arches a brow, still waiting for your response, so you attempt to cut the tension with a joke.

“Look, I don’t know if I even find you attractive. Why the hell would I marry you?” Collecting the money lying on the table, you stuff it back into your bag, missing Dean’s anguished frown.

“You know, Sam is probably going nuts since he can’t reach either one of us.” You continue to avoid further eye contact with him and make your way toward the bathroom. “Why don’t you find the phone in here and call him while I take a quick shower? Once you’ve showered, we can meet up with him and see if he can help us put the rest of the events together. Maybe grab some food?” Without waiting for a response, you shut the bathroom door and slump to the floor.

What the hell was that? If you didn’t know better, you’d think that Dean is actually happy that the two of you are married.

The metal band is cool against your skin as you scrub your hand down your face. Stretching your arm out in front of you, you stare at the gemstones sparkling in the fluorescent light as you wiggle your finger. The ring fits perfectly like it was made specifically for you.

What a waste.

Out of all the people you had met and the few you had dated over the years, Dean was the one person you could actually see yourself marrying. He was the real deal, the whole package—brains, brawn, heart of gold, a hero—all neatly wrapped in that beautiful body with those gorgeous green eyes—the same color eyes as the stones in your ring.

Your ring… Is it really your ring? Where had it even come from?

The tears you’d been forcing down since first seeing the marriage certificate slide down your cheeks as you slide the ring off, wondering why you haven’t removed it before now. You immediately miss the weight of it around your finger.

With a sigh, you stand, slipping the ring into one of the robe’s pockets. You still need to figure out how you got to this point, and that isn’t going to happen sitting in here and wishing that the fantasy you’d often dreamed about hadn’t literally come true without you even being able to remember it. Maybe the hot shower will calm the storm of emotions raging through you and help release the memories still blocked in your mind.

The water pelting your body from all angles and the misty steam begin to ease the tension in your muscles, but your mind is still blank when it comes to what took place after the two of you left Gilley’s.

Geezus, the first time the brothers ask you to join them in Vegas, your presence causes everything to go down in flames.

You should have just said no. Then you wouldn’t have to face the feelings for Dean that you’d managed to keep in check all these years. Feelings that you had hoped might be reciprocated one day but knew in your heart never would be.

Dean is lying on the couch when you exit the bathroom, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. The shower had done very little to diffuse the overwhelming panic you were still feeling, and there he is, looking so at peace, like not being able to remember one of the single most important events of your life is no big deal.

It irritates the piss out of you, and you bark at him, “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Opening one eye, he arches his brow in question as he looks at you over the back of the couch. He opens his mouth but apparently thinks better about saying anything and instead swings his legs off the sofa to sit up, shoulders slumped and face buried in his hands.

The resigned sigh and troubled look on his face make your heart ache for no apparent reason when he finally stands. You reach out and gently grip his hand as he shuffles past you, making him pause.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and give his fingers a quick squeeze before releasing his hand. “Did you get a hold of Sam?”

Dean purses his lips, giving you a small nod. “Yeah, he’ll be here in about forty-five. He’s bringing a change of clothes for us, too.”

“Did you remember anything else?”

“Uhm… No.” He grimaces as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You?” His eyes seem to be pleading with you to tell him yes.

You shake your head and whisper, “No.” Dean looks almost pained at your response before his poker face slides into place.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says as he shuts the door to the bathroom behind him.

You plop down on the bed and bury your head in your hands, tears once again dampening your cheeks. Did you imagine it, or did Dean hesitate before he said he didn’t remember anything?

What a fucking mess this all turned out to be.

You had been so excited about coming to Vegas and spending time with the brothers having fun, yet here you are in the middle of one of the worst dilemmas of your life—married to your best friend without any idea of how it happened. You know that this isn’t something that he’d ever wanted, that being tied to you in this way will only be more of a burden to him. He’d never given you any indication that he felt more than friendship toward you. You need to fix this; Dean deserves better.

The thought of dressing in the clothes you’d spent the night before in isn’t very appealing, but you don’t have a choice. If you waited for Sam to get there, you wouldn’t be able to do what you needed to do. You find a pad of paper and a pen in the nightstand drawer and write a quick note.

Dean,

I’m sorry for my part in this; it was obviously a mistake. I’ll find an attorney to annul the marriage as soon as possible and have them send you the paperwork.

Picking up the marriage certificate from the coffee table, you put the note, along with the ring, in its place. After one more look around the room to make sure you have everything, you slip out the door, determined to set things right… no matter how much it hurts you.

@mariekoukie6661 @wayward-and-worn @weepingwillowphoenix @akshi8278 @thinkinghardhardlythinking @carryonmywaywardcaptain

#minnies600challenge #a wedding to remember #dean winchester #dean x female!reader #spnquotebingo #angst #language #fragmentary alcohol-induced hangover #010221

134 notes · View notes

parvuls · 3 years

Photo

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

a fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! the rules are simple: recommend your favorite omgcp fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo! i ordered my recs starting from top left; my filled bingo card is at the end ✨

most recent fic you bookmarked don't tell your mother by seeingrightly [rating: unrated, probably t | words: 1k] essentially: jack is in madison, and things aren’t easy but at least they’re together. i have an unhealthy obsession with madison/4th of july fics, and every new one i discover brings me joy. i liked this one in particular because of the lovely, clean flow of the writing, and for its attention to the problematic environment: the (assumed) homophobic nature of georgia, and bitty's tension when he’s home as a result.

a fic that made you cry Your heart hurts, mine does too by the_p_in_raspberry (@thepinraspberry) [rating: t | words: 19k] essentially: this fic fills the prompt ‘what if bitty hadn’t come out to shitty?’ the fic deals with exactly the subject material implied, and is inherently painful. this what if version of bitty’s journey with his sexuality was so, so raw, but it was the good kind of pain. i’ll say that while this fic is jack/bitty at its core, i really think its real strength is the team dynamics. they are so there for each other, and it was a beautiful read.

a fic you’ve re-read multiple times Prove To Me You Got Some Coordination by amalnahurriyeh [rating: explicit | words: 17k; the series is 24.5k] “In which Jack Zimmermann has a favorite stripper, some very strong feelings about labour relations, and a good heart.“ when i prepared myself for reading a stripper au, this is not what i expected. this fic is one of my all-time favorites. i adored the politics angle, jack's awkward Helpless Good Guy gestures, and bitty being a complete badass. their soft flirting, the realistic (but positive!) take on sex work, and the careful handling of a potential unequal power dynamic. i don’t think i can count on one hand the amount of times i read this fic.

a fic from your to-read list Never Will You Ever by thefiveboxingwizards (@thefiveboxingwizards) [rating: explicit | words: ~25k (WIP)] essentially: during fall semester of Y2 the team plays never have i ever, which results in jack coming out to bitty. bitty decides to move on, just as jack starts to realize his own feelings. this is the first time i’m reccing a fic i haven’t actually read. i have a strict rule against reading wips for my own mental health (although i have great appreciation for all writers who decide to post them; kudos to you). the premise of this fic sounds so alluring, however, that i couldn’t help but marking it for later and then checking if it’s updated every few days. can’t wait to read it when it’s finished!

FREE SLOT and now what words do I have? by MyCupOfTea (@marchingatmidnight) [rating: m | words: 10k] essentially: jack and bitty love each other. bitty moves to france. jack and bitty continue to love each other, even when it’s hard. this fic could’ve fit several of my slots, but eventually i decided to just rec it on its own. it’s one of my absolute favorites in this fandom. i love it for the writing, the pacing, the decision to tackle a real obstacle in a relationship without unnecessary dramatization. i love the softness the pining trope is painted with; how the distance is awful but they deal with it so well, so healthily. i love when angst is used to build and show the strengths of a relationship, not just to hurt.

a pwp With New Eyes by luckie_dee (@luckiedee) [rating: m | words: 3.5k] essentially: mirror sex with a flavor of intercrural. this fic is set during bitty’s first visit to providence, which shifts the entire tone of the fic accordingly. everything is so tentative and new, and i just really liked how gentle jack and bitty are with each other, how they savor new things. the setting and bitty's thoughts and the whole thing was perfect, and so in character.

a fic that is pure fluff Over Heels by anonymous [rating: gen | words: 2.5k] essentially: jack and bitty and marriage. this is such a soft portrayal that it made my chest ache. it isn’t Y4-compliant, but it is so goddamn cute it doesn’t matter. i especially loved the communication between them, the choice of rings (plus the subtle mentions of jack stimming), and this sort of low key, understated proposal. the last scene with jack kissing the ring clinched it for me: i could picture it so clearly my heart flipped.

a fic with your favorite trope How to Blow a Fuck Ton of Meal Points in 1.5 Semesters. by YourPalYourBuddy (@ivecarvedawoodenheart) [rating: t | words: 5k] essentially: jack finds himself with more meal points than he could ever need, and proceeds to spend them on his team (read: bitty) - which leads to some realizations. the trope this fits is ‘year 2 canon-divergence getting together’, and it’s one trope i will never tire of. i absolutely loved the set up of this because it's so college. i loved jack's characterization, and also their conversations, how well bitty's feelings are translated through jack's eyes even when jack's not completely aware of them, and the ending.

a fic with a trope you don’t usually read Tipping the Scales by akaparalian (@floralegia) [rating: t | words : 7.5k] “Prince Eric, training for a tournament to prove his worth as a knight, goes for a ride in the woods. He accidentally finds a dragon, who accidentally became a dragon because he pissed off the wrong witch.” i’m not normally a fan of fantasy or royalty AUs, but something drew me to this fic anyway. i was not disappointed. i laughed out loud several times during this fic. i adored the translations of their personalities into a knight and a dragon (for example, jack's reaction to training - dying, dead, oh my god).

a drabble that made you want more Picture Us Together by RabbitRunnah (@doggernaut) [rating: t | words: 800] essentially: bitty sets a picture of his boyfriend as his lock screen during the madison visit, and jack finds out. it seems only fitting that i put more than one rec taking place during 4th of july on this list. the prompt was so simple, but the execution was so lovely i wished it would go on and on. things between them at this time were so new and fragile and sweet that i just never want it to end.

a fic with domestic fluff I'll settle in and dream by Stultiloquentia [rating: t | words: 9k] essentially: a future fic with emphasis on jack’s and bitty’s adult life. the realistic domesticity in this killed me dead. it is so, so lovely and soft. i enjoyed every detail, from the dog to the scenery descriptions to jack's hockey arc. every setting was so easy to imagine, and i really enjoyed the journey this fic takes the reader on.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #omgcp fic #zimbits #fic recs #*#tag me if you do this! i'm always looking for new fics to read :)

144 notes · View notes

jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

The Grass is Greener Pt.1/3

Summary: Jaskier's mother is coming to stay and his garden is an absolute mess and his lawn mower has seen better days... luckily for him his ridiculously hot neighbour is there to lend a hand.

Geraskier

CW: Shitty parents being shitty.

(Prompted by @alwenarin and based on this post by @infinite-mirrors)

________

Jaskier stared forlornly out at his garden. His mother was due to come over on her yearly visit and the next few days of his life were going to be hell. His mother was the sort to blast into his life like a fucking tornado, pull apart everything that he had built for himself and leave him broken, shattered into a thousand shards of glass. He wasn’t even sure why he still let her in, probably some childhood trauma that meant he was desperate to please her, to make her proud, but what did he know? He wasn’t a therapist, much to her displeasure. Anything would have been better in her eyes than a musician and occasional bartender.

He didn’t make much money. His band hadn’t taken off yet and only really had a small but dedicated following online that donated pocket money in exchange for small previews of new tracks or little poems that could be given to lovers or in greetings cards. Most of his rent was paid for in the tips he made at the bar. He was lucky to have the house at all really. He shared it with his housemates: Priscilla, his bandmate and ex, Essi, her younger sister, Valdo Marx, his former schoolmate, professional rival and absolutely twat face who lurked in his attic room and never really came out to talk to them, and last but not least, Regis, a kind scholarly type who had been living in the house before the other rooms had become available and most importantly made excellent homemade gin.

Said housemates had agreed to fuck off for the weekend so he could pretend that the house was his in a last ditched attempt win over his mother.

Of course, none of them had helped to tidy up before leaving and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours deep cleaning the house, and bolting the door to Regis’s bathroom shut. The gin in the bathtub wasn’t ready to bottle yet and he wasn’t exactly going to drain the tub of his elixir. He’d moved the furniture in his friend’s rooms around enough to make it look like they weren’t extra bedrooms, more… rooms that just happened to have beds in case he had company. Priscilla’s room now resembled a music room, Essi’s room had been turned into a makeshift study, Valdo’s he’d left a mess and claimed it was just an attic, and Regis’s room was sort of a library if you squinted hard enough.

That just left the garden.

“Bollocks!” He moaned.

None of them really cared much about the garden, apart from the box down the end which housed Regis’s herb garden for cooking. The rest of the garden a mess. The grass was practically a wild meadow filled with weeds. He quite liked it. He enjoyed looking at the dandelions, daisies and buttercups but his mother would have a fit.

Where was he even going to start?

Lawnmower. They must have one. He stumbled through his back door onto the patio and made his way to the shed that honestly barely lived up to its name. It was falling apart and leaked horrendously, but luckily inside was one rusty looking lawnmower.

“Bingo!” He grinned and pulled the mower out of the shed. It was heavier than it looked but luckily Jaskier was also stronger than he looked. Even so he wasn’t entirely how he was going to start the damn thing.

Perhaps Geralt would know…

Fuck.

Geralt.

Geralt had just adopted a newborn baby. Her name was Ciri. Most of the time Geralt just called her ‘Cub’ which Jaskier found to be incredibly endearing, a fact that had nothing to do with his teensy little crush on the mechanic.

He pulled up Geralt’s number in his phone. He’d been delighted when Geralt had given him his number, yes maybe it was because Jaskier kept turning up at Geralt’s doorstep after shifts at work because he’d forgotten his keys and none of his bastard housemates were answering the door and Geralt just happened to have a spare key, but the main thing is he had Geralt’s number.

After that they’d conversed a few times over text. Mostly if one of them was running to the shops and wanted to know if the other needed anything. Occasionally Geralt would text to ask Jaskier if he could watch Ciri for a short while if Geralt needed to leave the house. Once Geralt had even given him a lift to work because Jaskier’s bike had gotten a flat tire and he didn’t have enough time to walk all the way to the bar. So they weren’t exactly strangers but he wouldn’t really call them friends.

In fact Geralt was still listed as Hot Neighbour in his phone. He meant to change it, it was just that you couldn’t argue with the truth. Geralt was his hot neighbour.

J —Hey Geralt! Is it ok if I mow my lawn? I don’t want to wake Ciri if she’s asleep. :)

He stared at his phone intently until about an eternity later, Geralt replied.

G — The child must not be an obstacle.

Jaskier snorted as he read the response. He read it aloud a couple of times trying to mimic Geralt’s rough husky voice and managed to give himself the giggles.

His phone buzzed again.

G — I can hear you laughing at me.

“Oh shit!” He almost dropped his phone and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Sorry Geralt!” He called into the air.

G— Hmm.

Jaskier scoffed. Who text back “Hmm”? And why did Jaskier still find that so attractive?

But never mind that! He had the green light. Operation Finally Make His Mother Proud, or FMHMP for short, and yes you could absolutely say that if you tried hard enough, was go! He was going to mow the lawn like a proper adult!

He tried for about six years to turn the mower on but without any success. He kicked the lawnmower in frustration and the whole damned thing fell apart.

“Fuck it!” He yelled as he hopped about on his good foot that hadn’t been battered by lawnmower.

He sulked back into the house and flopped down dramatically on the sofa. It was over. His mother was going to hate him and he would die as a disgrace to the Pankratz name and the Lettenhove estate.

He was half way through his pity party when the doorbell rang. He grabbed his phone to check the time. Strange, his mother wasn’t due for another three hours.

“What the fuck?” He mused and padded over to the door. To his surprise Geralt was standing on his doorstep with Ciri tucked safely into a baby sling on his chest and behind him was a shiny lawnmower. “Ah. Geralt!” He grinned.

Geralt turned to the lawnmower and back to him. “Thought you might need some help.”

Jaskier blushed. “Right. Yes. Of course. Come on in!” He stood back to let Geralt through. “Oh, actually do you want to come round the side gate? The lawnmower probably shouldn’t come through the house. I’ve just cleaned up.”

Geralt grunted but followed Jaskier around the side of the house and into the back garden.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” He grumbled when he saw the state of the lawn. “I thought you said you were mowing the lawn, not trying to find it!”

“Ah, yes, well. That is an excellent point.” Jaskier stammered, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously. “You see my mother is visiting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Your mother, how old are you? Twelve?”

Jaskier gaped at his neighbour. “Geralt!” He whined. “I’m twenty-nine! Mother is just a cow.”

“Hmm. Fine. Let’s do this.” Geralt pulled Ciri gently out of her sling and passed her to Jaskier. “Hold her. I need to grab her stuff. This will take longer than I thought.”

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier called after Geralt but it was too late and Ciri began to cry. “Umm. There there.” He cooed and rocked her gently. “Shall I sing you a lullaby, cub?”

She didn’t answer, babies rarely did, so he decided a lullaby would be fine and began to sing in hushed tones as he rocked her in his arms. Geralt wasn’t long but he seemed surprise to come back to Jaskier rocking his daughter to sleep in his arms.

“Hmm. She likes you.” Geralt noted.

He was carrying Ciri’s car seat and a bag was slung over his shoulder. In his other hand was a large electric contraption with some nasty blades at the end. He dumped the scary looking monster and placed the travel cot on the patio table. Once Ciri was safely asleep they got to work.

Or more accurately, Geralt got to work. Jaskier mostly just watched and made sure Geralt had all the refreshments he needed. He also kept the conversation going by listing all the grievances his mother had with him from her last visit, Geralt hummed and grunted but didn’t offer much in return but it didn’t matter. Jaskier was more than capable of holding an entire conversation by himself.

“And then she starts wittering on about how my sister has a perfect husband and a darling little angel.” Jaskier moaned. “So of course then it’s ‘Julian why don’t you have a wife?’”

“Julian?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier glared at his neighbour. “Don’t ever call me that, I beg of you.”

Geralt shrugged. “I won’t. Just asking.”

“And I tell her, for the hundredth time, to say partner or spouse or lover or you know… not gender specific because she knows! Geralt! She knows. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her.” Jaskier sighed. “Oh, umm I’m bisexual just to give you some context there.”

Geralt nodded. “Right.”

“So of course she starts complaining that I always have to make everything gay, and I’m like… ‘Mother, I am gay!’” Jaskier announced with wide arms.

Geralt looked up at him, pausing halfway down the lawn that was now starting to resemble a lawn. “So why not tell her you’re seeing someone?” He asked. “Solve both problems if you say it’s a guy.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “Yeah.” He scoffed. “Until she asks to meet him.”

Geralt shrugged. “I could do it.”

Jaskier’s heart jumped in his chest. “You what? Geralt!”

“My ex has been bothering me about finding someone.” He grumbled. “Two birds, One stone.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at his insanely hot neighbour who was now apparently suggesting they… fake date??

“What exactly are you suggesting here?” Jaskier asked slowly. “You pretend to be my boyfriend for my mother’s visit and we what? Send a few photos to your ex to prove you’re moving on?”

Geralt smirked. “As long as you promise not to fall in love with me.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped.

Well fuck. _______

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #dad geralt #surprise fake dating #I could be persuaded to write a second part #let me know if you want part 2 #Update there will now be three parts #ask and you shall receive #the grass is greener

384 notes · View notes

polizwrites · 1 year

Text

WIP Update - 7 Feb 2023

Finally back on track after vacation with a very productive week! I touched 8 fics ( 2 WIPs & 6 new works) for a total of 3567 words! I also have over FOUR HUNDRED works posted on Ao3 as of this past Friday! 🎉 🎊🎉

On Ao3, I posted: Save Us All From the State We’re In - Bucky & Sam bonding through adversity. Come Again Some Other Day - introspective Bucky thinking about getting caught out in the rain. A Visitor to the Library - Tony and Stephen established relationship fluff.

On Tumblr I posted: Make My Heart Come All Undone (Continuation) - No Powers AU surfer!Tony (with a secret) and amputee!Bucky. A Secret Garden - Bucky discovers a life-threatening secret Tony is trying to hide (spoiler: it’s hanahaki) Flying the Flag of Freedom - No Powers/Pirate/Historic AU: Steve and Bucky are pirates who target slave ships. Recollection of Anticipation - Steve & Bucky introspection mid-CA:TFA.

I have 12 active WIPs with my current deadline being the Stuckony Valentine Cards event (due 10 Feb), along with the February Ficlet Challenge, Bucky Barnes Flash Bingo 2023 and the Tony Stark Bingo (all ending 28 Feb)

See below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc. As always, feel free to send me prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding any of these projects or any other WIPs I’ve got out there. Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Steve Rogers Bingo - Round 2 (SRB_R2) - Ends 31 Jan

Twenty-one fills posted over 18 fanworks with 6 bingos (Rows 1, 3 & 5 and Columns A & B and 1 diagonal) Masterpost

Stuckony Valentine Cards Event [Ends 10 Feb]

This Ao3 Event solicited prompts for Stony, Stucky, WinterIron, and/or Stuckony works - it’s now in the creation phase, so if you’re looking to write something short and sweet (or smutty!) and are 18+ plus, feel free to check out the list of prompts! I skimmed thru them before vacation, but now need to take another look & hopefully find something that I vibe with and can write by noon Friday!

Bucky Barnes Flash Bingo 2023 [BBB_F23] (Ends 28 Feb)

The Bucky Barnes Bingo team (@buckybarnesbingo) is running a flash bingo this month - pick one of 5 premade cards (each with prompts starting from the same letter of his name) and create some new content to share!

I picked the U card and here’s what I have so far:

* Unlucky - Come Again Some Other Day - posted last Friday. It’s an introspective piece with Bucky reflecting on how much he hates being rained on.

* Undone - Filling this with a continuation of Make My Heart Come All Undone - No Powers AU featuring surfer!Tony (with a secret) and amputee!Bucky. I got a good start on this thanks to the FFF23 Day 1 prompt: Wave. Chapter 2 (Tony POV) is sitting at 584 words at the moment.

* Underdog - hoping to combine this with my All Caps Bingo Isaiah Bradley square - Bucky’s recollection of their fight.

Tony Stark Bingo - Round 6 (TSB_R6) [Ends 28 Feb]

Twenty fills with only one bingo so far and four WIPs at the moment - with Vague Ideas for almost every other square. I am gunning for a blackout, tho will probably have to pull my Adopted squares in to make that happen.

S5 - James “Rhodey” Rhodes -- probably crossing over with my AvB Vulnerability square - I have a vague plot idea & title: Tensegrity that I think I can pull together in time.

* T3 - Pepper Potts/Rescue - some sort of remix of/inspired by sabrecmc’s Indecent Proposal from Pepper’s POV. At this point, I think I need to re-read the fic & take notes … may need to scrap this idea & try something else.

* T4 - KINK: Concubine - was going to combine this with SRB E4 - Mental Bondage but still may write up the idea I had - potential titled My Voice the Chain that Binds You.

* A1 - AU: Regency - finally cracked this with an outsider POV (Phil Coulson) of the events of To Tame a Werewolf. The Steward of Brookside Manor is up to 185 words so far.

*A5 - Scott Lang - 27dragons shared an interesting plot bunny during the Sept TSB Discord party that I may end up using; that or a follow up to A Piece of the Action

* K2 - Secret Admirer - carried this over from last round so I could try my hand a remix of Seeds of Love (WinterIron hanahaki fic by the super-talented @hddnone). Got inspired by last week’s Flash Fiction Friday [#FFF188 Where Secrets Lie] and wrote up A Secret Garden as the hopeful beginning of a longer piece. It’s sitting at 289 words at the moment and will crossover with my AvB Unrequited Love square.

* K5 - Protectiveness – using this for the third (and probable final) chapter of my Stony Western AU WIP Come Down From Your Fences (And Open the Gate) The first draft is coming in at 907 words and I’m targeting posting on Friday.

February Ficlet Challenge [FFC23] (Ends 28 Feb 2023)

I’m participating in the @februaryficletchallenge, where two prompts get posted each day. You’re supposed to write a 200+ word ficlet within 24 hours and share it to the collection - I’m ending up using these as prompts for longer works to fill bingo squares, but am posting each ficlet to Tumblr as I complete it. Here’s what I have done so far:

Day 1: Wave - see BBB_F23 Undone above.

Day 2: Caught in the Rain - see BBB_F23 Unlucky above.

Day 3: “What’s up, Doc?” - I combined this with my AvB Kissed to Keep Quiet square for A Visitor to the Library -- a bit of Tony/Stephen (IronStrange) fluff. It will get posted to Ao3 eventually.

Day 6: Pirate AU: Combining this with my All Caps Bingo AU: Fugitive square. Posted Flying the Flag of Freedom to Tumblr and plan to expand on it for the bingo. Steve and Bucky are pirates who target slave ships in order to free their cargo; but what happens when they come upon a ship of slaves who have freed themselves?

Day 7: Carnival/Amusement Park: Combined this with my All Caps Bingo “This is payback, isn’t it?“ square for Recollection of Anticipation - where Bucky’s comment about the Coney Island Cyclone sparks memories for Steve.

Stucky Bingo Round Four [SB_R4] (Ends 31 May 2023)

Eleven fills and one WIPs with a couple of other vague ideas.

* B1 - Mutual Pining - no specific idea, but it’s so On Brand for me I’m sure I’ll come up with something! (maybe the Centerfold fic idea I’ve been toying with)

* O4 - AU: Supernatural - got inspired by a dream to start a Stucky fantasy AU (magician!Steve/ensorcelled!Bucky) that @bill-longbow is collaborating on with me. We’re currently sitting at 1640 words (984-ish of which are mine). Will probably continue on this sometime in February. Current Last Line: "My men will accompany you back to Brookline in the morning.”

I also adopted the Writing Format: Remix one of your fics square – am thinking of taking one of my Stony or WinterIron No Powers fics and adapting it to a Stucky pairing – if you have any requests - hit me up!

WinterIron - No Powers AU – Stony No Powers AU

Avengers Bingo Round Four [AvB_R4] (Ends 2 June)

This time around the card is a 3x3, so am looking at writing different pairings for my two favorite Avengers - Tony and Steve. I have 1 fill completed and one WIP, with a couple more ideas in play.

* A1 - Vulnerability - see TSB James “Rhodey Rhodes square above

* A3 - Kissed to Keep Quiet - see FFF23 “ What’s up, Doc?” prompt above.

* B1 - Unrequited Love - see TSB Secret Admirer square above.

* C3 - Dog Tags - seems like a good Steve/Bucky (or Steve/Sam?) square.

All Caps Bingo [ACB_R1] (Ends 30 Sep 2023)

This new bingo focuses on Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson as its main characters - paired up with each other or anyone else! I’ve got 1 completed fic and two different ideas for the One Fill, One Bingo Challenge - see this Tumblr post for details.

* B2 - AU: Fugitive - see FFC23 Pirate AU above

* N1 - Rogers: The Musical - with the encouragement of the ACBB Discord folks, I returned to the well and wrote up Save Us All From the State We’re In 418 words of Bucky & Sam bonding through adversity.

* O1 - “This is payback, isn’t it?” - see FFC23 - Day 7: Carnival/Amusement Park above.

* O3 - Pararescue Sam Wilson - may try to squish this into an expansion of A Rising Star - a previous Flash Fiction Friday fill.

————

On other creative fronts: I have a Captain America Stuffed With Character figure in progress - still working on the figures/props for my three Marvel Trumps Hate auction winners as well (7 of 8 done so far) – thanks so much for your generous support!! Finally, I am prepping for a superhero con in March and another con in June so am pretty well booked up through spring/early summer.

That said, if you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations later in the year, check out Stuffed With Character over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 100!). They’re mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design requests for any fandom!

#writing stuff #WIP Update #WIP Wednesday #Shameless Self Promo

1 note · View note

jeonggukingdom · 4 years

Text

house of cards (m)

pairing ⟶ jungkook x fem!Reader (feat. Namjoon & the rest of the boys)

synopsis ⟶ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

genre ⟶ smut, angst, apocalypse!AU, zombie!AU

rating ⟶ 18+

word count ⟶ 17.453 words

warnings ⟶ graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, hair pulling, marking each other with admittedly too many hickeys, teasing, couch sex, fingering, dirty talk, pounding, kind of soft sex but also rough sex?, multiple orgasms, a little tiny drop of chocking because why not, oral sex (receiving) because we all know I can’t resist and have to put this literally in every fic I write lol. Death, violence, blood, gunshot wounds: all of which include graphic descriptions. [I AM TERRIBLY SORRY].

author’s note ⟶ this fic has been written for the “Bulletproof Bingo” project created by @ficswithluv! You can find the card I received here (click!) but to make things more fun and keep the surprise I blurred out all the songs except for the five songs in the same row that I’m going to write first ;) A special thank you to @inkedxclouds for reading the opening scene and encouraging me to keep on writing it! Your words (and advice!) really helped me so really, thank you again ♥

song title ⟶ House Of Cards - BTS [ lyrics that inspired the story the most: “A house made of cards, and us, inside / Even though the end is visible / Even if it’s going to collapse soon / A house made of cards, we’re like idiots / Even if it’s a vain dream, stay like this a little more / As if there’s no such thing as tomorrow / As if there’s no such thing as a “next time” / Right now, in front of my eyes, everything without you / Is a terribly pitch-black darkness” ]

tag list ⟶ @mrcleanheichou • @ayujaded • @vera6483 • @peterrogers15 • @ggukkieland

The city is on fire.

The flames dance in the air, tint everything black and red and menace to reach up the sky, bring that down as well so that truly nothing is left unscathed in the entire world. The heath burns his flesh, makes his eyes water, turns his throat dry and he doesn’t need to look behind his back to know you can feel it too, to know how fast your heart is beating inside your chest, thumping hard against your ribs like a trapped hummingbird inside a cage. He doesn’t have to look to know your chest is heaving, that fatigue and panic are taking over your entire system. He doesn’t need to, but he still tilts his head slightly to the side, fixes his gaze on your face for a whole second before turning back around to take in the destructive scenery all around you.

His legs move faster. They hit hard on the dirty and sleek bitumen, seemingly indefatigable, but the truth is that the only thing propelling him forward is self-preservation and the knowledge that if he stops, even for a second, he’ll be dead and you right along with him.

But Jeongguk is not stupid. He knows you’re both reaching your breaking point, that you won’t be able to keep on going much longer and that knowledge turns him desperate.

There has to be a way out. He refuses to believe this is the end. No, no, he will not allow it.

His fingers are wrapped tightly around yours and he tugs on them harder, pulls you closer to him so that he can feel the warmth of your body, your heavy breath hitting the back of his neck every now and then. Like this, he knows you’re alive, that you are both still here and most importantly, still human.

Neither of you dares to take a look behind your backs and truth is, you don’t even have to. All it takes is for you is to close your eyes—or even blink—to see them.

Skin of a sickly ashen grey. Eyes void like an abyss, black as coal. Mouths open wide in a perpetual silent scream that haunts both of your dreams every single night. Teeth ready to bite, rip the skin off and let the blood soil the bitumen and fill their monstrous mouths. Arms outstretched to grasp you, to pull you into them to scratch and rip the skin until nothing of you is left, not even your soul, and you are one of them. Another little piece in the ever-growing army of walking corpses.

All it took was two weeks.

Two weeks for the whole world to crumble down, splinter into tiny frail little pieces of glass and all by the hands of monsters that only used to live inside TV screens on Halloween: zombies.

Jeongguk curses under his breath, swiftly turns to the left in a vain attempt to confuse the brain-dead creatures right behind your backs but he knows it won’t work, not this time, not when there is so many of them.

He dares another look at your face and the utter terror he reads on your features turns his heart smaller inside his chest.

He swore to protect you.

One year ago, in front of your families and friends, he made his vows. What was it that he promised? To love you and cherish you until the end of his days, to protect you and grant you a happy life. And now what? What happened to all those pretty words that filled his mouth back then?

Lies. Lies. Lies.

Everyone you ever cared about and loved is gone. Everything you ever knew is gone. All in the blink of an eye. There were no goodbyes, no mourning, no nothing. And he can see the toll it has taken on you whenever he looks inside those beautiful eyes of yours. Once upon a time, they used to shine like stars in a night sky but not anymore—just another thing to add to the list of what those monsters have taken away from the both of you.

Your legs are tired. Your lungs are begging for air and all you can think about is just letting go, just let your body fall and claim the desperate rest it needs. When was the last time either of you had a proper night of sleep? When was the last time nightmares didn’t wake one of you in the middle of the night and successfully kept you awake through most of it until the sun was back up in the sky?

Jeongguk curses, his voice quivers around the edges alongside his limbs and he can hear your breath catch, get trapped inside your lungs.

Is this the end?

He gulps down heavily, bites on his bottom lip like he always does when he is focused on something, when he is so deep in thought the whole world disappears. But this time, the look on his face is one of panic and dread.

There is no way out.

Jeongguk curses under his breath again, forces you to take another swift turn to the left and you both know it’s futile and desperate but what else is left?

You don’t want to die like this, in a dark alley of a city you’ve never seen before, helplessly running away from the nightmares behind your backs. So you pray. You pray to all the deities known to mankind, even those you’ve never believed in because truthfully, this is all you have left, isn’t it? The hope for a miracle.

Jeongguk falters and you almost bump right into him. His name leaves your mouth like a shrill but it falls on deaf ears because right there, in the middle of the street, shining like a beacon, lies a car.

A car.

Amidst all the smoke and fire, standing amidst all of this wreckage with barely a single scratch on its surface, that car almost looks like a mirage, a freaking miracle. Or a curse. Too good to be true, too-fucking-good to be true. And yet, it is a chance. Perhaps your only chance. So he takes it. Because this is what your lives have been reduced to. A fucking gamble.

So he takes courage, treats this as a round at the Russian roulette where you don’t know whether you win or lose until you pull the bloody trigger and shoot yourself right on your temple. He takes courage and tugs on your arm, yanks it forward as he aims for the car ignoring both the yelp of pain and the shrill of panic that erupt from your mouth.

He ignores the way you call his name in question and horror as your eyes land on what to you looks like nothing but certain doom. He ignores the way you try to yank him in the opposite direction, the way your hand trembles in his grasp with nothing but fear, the way your breath catches as the creatures get closer and closer and closer.

You can almost feel their breath on your neck, you can almost feel their hands on your skin, their claws sinking inside the tender flesh to bring you down with them.

"Hurry!"

His shrill cuts through the air like a knife. Your heaving breaths fill the silence left in its wake and they mix with Jeongguk's and the monsters’ right behind your backs.

What happens next is nothing but a blur.

Curses and screams fill the air, your bodies pressed together inside the car as you pray to all the Gods somewhere up there in the sky to spare your life just this once, to not let the both of you die like this, in a city in ruin with not a single person you ever loved alive to mourn you.

You pray and maybe, maybe someone is really up there, listening and granting wishes because while the monsters surround you, while they shake the car and hit the glass with their fists and open mouths, Jeongguk turns the key and the engine roars to life.

An exhilarated laugh escapes his parted lips, shakes his thin body to the point he’s jolting on the seat whilst pushing with all his might on the pedal to propel the car forward.

Your hand searches his and finds it around the gearshift. Your fingers automatically lace together as if that is the very purpose they were created for and then, you close your eyes and the world turns black and subdues as you will it all away. The flames, the monsters surrounding you, the smell of fire and death that still fills your nose… they disappear just like magic as you push your thoughts far away from here.

You fill your head with images of your past life, one that almost looks like a dream now, something you’ve only seen while sleeping and not actually lived through. You fill it with laughter and kisses under the sunlight on that beach in Busan where you and Jeongguk finally confessed your feelings for each other. You fill it with the sensation of his warm hands against your naked flesh, you fill it with his beautiful, endearing smile. With the sound of his voice as he softly calls your name first thing in the morning or when he whispers it in your ears while you make love. You fill it all with him so that you can ignore the way the car shakes, the sounds of the monsters falling on the ground as the car drives into them, pushes them down on the bitumen and steps on them.

Slowly, silence envelops you whole and in return, your heart stops hammering against your chest like a caged bird and yet, it is still not enough to prompt your eyes to open because you know that the moment you do so, no matter how far away from the madness and horror you currently are, you’ll never be distant enough because this is your new life and all the happy images filling your head right now are nothing but long-gone memories.

Jeongguk’s eyes are trained on the empty street and yet he can almost see you sitting right next to him with your eyes closed and your cherry lips parted, breathing ever so softly and drifting inside your world of memories. He knows that world oh too well, being a frequent visitor himself. It’s easy to forget the nightmare when you close your eyes and just drown yourself in the past, push your entire body so down under the deep waters you can’t even hear a peep from the world raging outside. Easy and comforting.

It scares him. It scares him how effortless it is to just let go and pretend, to let your consciousness slip away long enough you could almost forget how to get back.

He calls your name ever so softly then, his voice sweet and rich just like your favourite filled chocolate doughnut—your usual breakfast on a weekend, when he’d purposefully get out of bed before you just to go buy some for the both of you to consume in the comfort and warmth of your bed.

The memory makes a small smile stretch on your lips but it quickly fades as stripes of bleeding red and violent pink start burning its edges, slowly reducing it to nothing at all.

The sun is setting in the sky, falling rapidly behind the hills ahead of you and bringing all the light right with it. An involuntary shiver runs down your spine for there is nothing you dread more than the night and the nightmares sleep always brings right along with it. Another day has passed and if only there were a set date, a fixed moment in time you know to mark the end of it all, maybe you’d be able to rejoice then but that is just another luxury you don’t have.

Jeongguk’s eyes move on your face then, just in time to catch the way your expression inevitably falls and your smile disappears as quickly as it had formed. The peaceful expression, the little glint inside your beautiful eyes still present a few seconds ago are once again broken by the cruel reality and Jeongguk hates himself a little for shattering the dream, for pulling you back inside this Hell right along with him but even that deep sense of guilt can’t overpower the relief of having you still right next to him, alive and well and… present.

So he offers you a little smile, a tug of his hand to prompt your eyes to shift away from the bleeding sky and rather fix them on him and the moment they do oh, how they make his heart beat loudly in his chest, how do they so easily bring warmth to his cheeks and limbs.

“We’ve made it, baby.”

Yes. You’re alive.

You laugh and nod your head a couple of times for him. And Jeongguk could swear you illuminate the entire car, hell, even the whole road ahead of you with that smile full of sunshine he fell in love with so many years ago, when you were still kids. And the more you look at him, at the way his eyes shine like stars and his nose scrunches up in that adorable bunny-like way of his, the bigger your smile gets and Jeongguk is certain that you, like this, are the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on.

Deep down, you both know this is temporary, that this feeling of victory will be gone in a matter of a few hours when you’ll inevitably face another one of those monsters and yet, you allow yourselves to bask in the little joy you feel, in the glimpse of normalcy right within your grasp. For once, you decide not to care and rather live to the fullest inside this little bubble of happiness. A bubble so small and delicate even a breath could easily burst it.

“We did, didn’t we? Wow… I can’t believe it,” your voice is soft and filled with a little hint of the mirth that turned your lips upwards for the first time in days and Jeongguk can’t help but smile even further while focusing his eyes back on the road.

“Me neither,” he confesses, shaking his head a little for it does still feel absolutely incredible and so unbelievably lucky there must be a catch about the whole ordeal somewhere. He pushes those type of thoughts away with all his might, though, as he tries to enjoy the opportunity he was given to live another day right next to you because he hates this part of himself, the pessimistic side that everyday swallows a bit more of the person he used to be before this nightmare started.

It is the middle of the night when you finally come to a halt in what looks to be an abandoned city. One of many, you think to yourself as you scan your surroundings waiting for that telltale sign of danger that comes with the grunts of the famished walking corpses. The silence of the night welcomes the both of you, though, as you help yourselves out of the car and before you can even glance towards Jeongguk, he is standing right there, by your side, fingers laced around yours to keep you as close as possible. You smile at the tender gesture. It’s one of the few habits of his that hasn’t subdued just yet.

You know.

And even though most of the times you pretend you haven’t noticed the way he has changed—nor the way you have—you know he has and sometimes it is hard to ignore how empty his eyes look when they are not fixed on you, how thin his lips look now that they are always stretched into a harsh line and not pulled into a gentle smile and most importantly how often you catch his hands shaking and him balling them into fists to stop their incessant tremor.

You tug on his hand, offer him a gentle smile the second he looks at you and you imprint the sight of his smile in your memory, the way his eyes light up with a glimpse of the man you fell in love with. You map every single inch of his face just so you can remember him like this the most. Your Jeongguk, not the one the army of dead bodies has created.

You have never walked on a minefield before in your life but if you had to guess how it feels you’d bet he’d be a little like this as you walk through the empty streets in the middle of the night without having a single clue where to go, where to hide. Potentially, every turn could signify your demise. With every step you take, you feel like shrinking inside yourself, turning a little smaller inch after inch whilst your body quivers ever so slightly in fear and your heart aches as it pounds hard against your ribs.

It is Jeongguk that spots the abandoned building first.

The city has been turned to ashes, set on fire like your own and the one you saw after that, and the one after that too and so on into a trail of smoke, fire and destruction that has left barely anything unscathed. Yet this building looks somewhat decent, with the door still there—albeit swung open—and a few windows with the glass still intact to protect you from both the drop in temperatures and any unwanted guests.

A little winning smile forms on his lips then and he tugs a little on your arm so that you can hurry your steps, get to what promises to be your safe haven—at least for the night—as quickly as humanly possible without making a single sound so not to stir awake the creatures surely lurking in the dark.

Your steps are full of uncertainty and fear as you step into the abandoned building and walk on the broken tiled floor. With each step you take, you tug a little harder on Jeongguk’s hand in fear of what you might meet at the end of this long corridor and seemingly endless string of doors.

If it had been for you, you would have stopped at the first apartment with it being close enough to the exit to make a quick escape if needed. Instead, you keep walking and you only stop when there’s only a set of doors left and even though you know this is probably for the best, that it would be harder for anyone to find you here, that the brainless creatures are less likely to sense you so far away from the streets, you can’t shake the uneasiness prompted by the fear of getting trapped inside this place and not being able to leave it with your humanity still intact.

The door opens easily. Just a little tug from Jeongguk’s hand and it swings open to reveal a simple apartment with minimal and mostly-ruined furniture. The signs of struggle, of a hopeless fight, of the loss of other human lives, taint every inch and corner of this place that probably used to be filled with love and warmth once. You can almost sense the pain, the fear and horror. You can almost hear the screams as your fingers brush against the door, the walls, the little objects filled with memories on the furnishing. It’s just like echoes from ghosts that beg to be heard, to be remembered so that at least this little part of them can live on, forever human.

You gulp down heavily, force your eyes to tear away from the picture of a happy family still hanging on the wall and rather focus it on your boyfriend’s back as he walks inside the apartment just to make sure no surprises are waiting for you inside any of the empty rooms. You follow his every movement, you mirror every single step and fill your thoughts and sight with him so that it’s easier to bare everything, so that it’s easier to ignore and move on, to live and fight for your chance at survival.

His soft voice breaks the silence just to call your name and draw you next to him and you easily comply letting him lace your fingers together. He places a tender kiss on your forehead then before opening his arms to welcome you in his warm embrace. You feel your body relax into the familiar sensation of being completely engulfed by his strong arms, you feel your heart slowly melt as his scent fills your nose the instant you hide your face in his broad chest. He holds you like this for what feels like hours and he doesn’t have to utter a single word for you to know what fills his head and moves his heart. Fear, relief, love, guilt—you’ve felt them all, sometimes even all at once while looking towards him in the midst of one of your escapes and, inside this embrace, you can sense them all, hanging above your heads and weighing on his heart and shoulders.

Your arms wrap around him, tuck underneath the green jacket so that your fingers can fist the thin black shirt under it and pull him into you more so that not a single breath of air can come between your aching, broken bodies.

Jeongguk’s lips quiver, a trembling breath escapes his mouth as he lets himself break within your embrace knowing oh too well that you’ll help him put back together every single splinter of his being. He breaks without a single word or sound and yet you mend him over and over again until he’s whole once more and he can smile at you anew and mean it.

He doesn’t have to say anything. All it takes is one look from his glinting eyes and a nod of your head and in an instant, you’re sitting on the couch ignoring the ripped fabric and the dark stains on it in favour of the little food in your backpacks.

When you had it all, you had taken for granted many things: a roof on top of your head, an endless source of running water, good food on your table every single night. Now, you don’t even have half of that and yet, there’s a little smile on your face as you consume your dinner with your boyfriend sitting right next to you and that’s because even the stale bread in your hands tastes heavenly after days of pure starvation.

His mouth is still filled with bread to munch on when he fishes out the map from his backpack and his eyes start scanning the names of the cities you passed on your desperate run to safety. His eyes are eager and filled with hope and excitement and he looks so breathtakingly beautiful in this moment—even with dirt on his hands, dried blood on his clothes and dishevelled hair—that you can’t help but stare as you force down your throat the last bite of your meal.

You watch his eyes light up in recognition, you watch them scan the map again and again just to make sure and then you see his mouth open to form a little “o” of surprise and… excitement?

His beautiful eyes of coal fix on you then and the most dazzling smile twists his lips up to the side. An exhilarated laugh escapes his mouth, shakes his chest as he points at the map with the excitement of a little kid in a candy store.

“We’ve made it! Fuck, we’ve actually made it!”

You dart forward, steal the map from his hands to fix your gaze on it and see it for yourself. The safe haven, the refuge Yoongi and Hoseok had heard about and dreamed about every single night before they lost their fight is near, so fucking near you can almost see it now if you close your eyes and squeeze them hard enough.

The Refuge.

“How far is it from here?” Your voice trembles, coming out as soft as a whisper as you tilt your head a little to the side just to fix your gaze back on him.

A grin welcomes your words and you can swear stars are shining in his eyes as he bumps his shoulder into yours so that he can point at the map, show you the road you’ll have to walk on to get there.

“If we’re lucky and the car doesn’t run out of fuel we’ll be there by the end of tomorrow.”

Just a breath. That’s the fraction of a second it takes for you to lean forward and crush your lips on top of his, claim his mouth at the height of your euphoria. The colony of humans, the safe haven your friends talked about every waking hour you spent together is just miles away and the promise of safety and normalcy erases everything else in an instant.

In this moment, all that exists is you and him and the hope for a better, brighter future and with your heart beating so frantically in your chest, all you can do is get lost in him, in his sweet scent, in the heavenly sensation of his fingers wrapped around your frame and his lips roughly moving on top of yours.

You grab his face to pull him into you even more and Jeongguk gladly follows, moulds under your touch to fit on top of your body as you let yourself fall on the couch while still kissing his lovely lips. Your hands are eager, your tongue relentless as it seeks his own through his parted lips and the excitement and adrenaline mix together and build until what is driving your every movement is passion and desire and need.

A low grunt moves past his lips as you tug on the long strands of hair on the back of his head and he doesn’t have to open his eyes to know there’s a wicked smirk painted on your lips, a little knowing smile prompted by the fact that you know way too well how much he likes that, especially when he’s far deep inside of you, rocking his hips furiously to reach his high and bring you down with him.

Your fingers leave his curls in favour of his jacket to move it past his shoulders, let it fall along his arms until he’s unceremoniously throwing it away. But it is not enough to satisfy your desire of seeing him, touching him, claiming him. So your hands hook around the hem of his shirt to lift it off of his head and Jeongguk follows your desires, lets you guide him and take control over him with the barest touch of your fingers. A single brush of your digits on his feverish skin is enough to gather goosebumps on the flesh and blood deep down his crotch. His cheeks turn a lovely shade of coral under your gaze as you bite down your bottom lip while your eyes move up and down his half-naked body. It’s a sight you’ve seen countless of times before and yet, it still makes your mouth run dry and butterfly flutter in your stomach like the very first time.

A small smile spreads on your swollen lips the moment you catch sight of the necklace dangling from his neck. It glints under the artificial white lights of the streetlamps filtering through the windows, looking as if it were made of the purest glass on Earth. You reach out to touch the sharp point of the feather and then you take it within your grasp and tug on it until he’s falling back on top of you and your lips are tasting each other once more.

You drag your nails across his naked back ever so softly yet the sensation of the teasing touch makes him grunt and roll his hips into yours once in a form of retaliation that has you calling his name in a mix of a warning to stop and a plea to keep going. Jeongguk clearly decides it is the latter for he does it again, and again, and again until you’re fully whining his name inside the kiss and digging your nails harder into his naked flesh.

“You’re such a tease,” you whisper atop his mouth the instant his lips leave yours just so that he can look inside your eyes and oh, that little smirk on his lips is so enticing you have to fight against yourself not to kiss him senseless right then and there.

“Look who’s talking.” His voice is rough around the edges, laced with the desire coiling in his stomach that is making his blood boil and gather right between his legs.

You tilt your head a little to the side and let your fingers roam against his chest, stroke ever so softly the fine line of his abs just to watch them contract under your touch. You drag your hand further down his torso and you can hear the way his breath catches the moment your fingers are ghosting over his belt. Your teeth sink into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and Jeongguk curses under his breath as you let your hands move past that belt, get inside his jeans and palm his bottom cheeks through the fabric of his boxer briefs. You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, his jaw slacks as you tug on his hips so that he can press his confined member against your aching core.

Your body seems to catch on fire, turn into liquid flames right underneath his intense gaze and it takes again all of your willpower to not strip him naked in a second and push him deep right inside of you. But no, you want to savour this moment, make it last throughout the whole night so that you can rekindle properly with each other’s bodies after spending so much time running for your lives, out in the streets, unable to let yourself go and touch each other like you used to every single day before all hell broke loose. It’s been too long. Too long without his fingers on you, without his lips on your neck, without his sex battering yours in ways bound to make you forget your own name. Too-fucking-long.

He calls your name, wets his lips and begs with his eyes to give him more, in whatever form you prefer and you grant his silent wishes with the slow drag of your hands as they inch back towards his belt in order to free him at least from the confinement of his jeans. He releases a soft breath as you unbuckle it for him and then slowly unfasten both the button and the zipper and that same breath seems to hang in the air as your fingers palm him for the first time in weeks. His eyes close in bliss, his head tilts a little back and you drink up the sight of him like this, already getting ruined before you can even touch him properly. Oh, the things you’d do to him and let him do to you all at once and until neither of you can keep on going any longer.

That’s when you attach your lips on his skin, suckle on the firm flesh of his abs until a purple rose blooms there to mark your passage, followed by another and then another until he is whining and growing stiffer under your digits.

Your hands leave his groin and far too quickly for his liking judging by the little grunt of frustration that leaves his parted mouth but that one is quickly replaced by another as you push on his chest until his back is hitting the couch instead of yours and you are the one towering over him, ready to take control.

Your mouth easily finds his weakest spot on the side of his neck and attaches right there just so you can bask in the way his body catches on fire underneath yours, in the way he can’t help but arch his back a little into you, call your name and dig his fingers on the supple curve of your ass. His skin is tender and sweet and it takes so little effort for you to mark it with your eager lips and teeth that you can’t help the deep desire of wanting to mark all of him and turning it into a painting of roses in the shape of your mouth. You close your eyes and let your lips trace every corner of his neck, his clavicles and shoulders and you almost turn deaf to his pleas and whines and sighs of ecstasy. You almost lose yourself completely in the effort of mapping every inch of his skin until nothing is left for you to claim any longer and you have no choice but start all over again.

It takes his hands tugging on your shirt to rip it off of you for you to stop and it takes his mouth on your neck, his hips twitching underneath yours, his voice calling your name, for you to subdue completely and let him strip you of all of your clothes once and for all.

Jeongguk’s fingers tremble with the excitement growing stronger and stronger in his system and they turn rough on your tender skin as they finally get the chance to stroke and pull and feel it under his digits. It’s your turn to close your eyes and tilt your head back, it’s your turn to surrender to his desire-driven touches and mould and melt underneath it. It is your turn to whine and sigh and call his name and Jeongguk drinks up every second of it just like you did and the more he watches you like this, the more he touches you like this, the drunker he feels and the drunker he wants to get because hell, he had almost forgotten how sweet you taste on his lips, how heavenly you feel tightly wrapped around him, how breathtakingly beautiful you are like this, towering over him with nothing but desire filling your gaze.

The bare thought of your walls squeezing him oh so blissfully is enough to make him groan and claim your lips once more while his hands start inching down to where you desire them the most. The touch is simple and slow and yet you arch your back for him, roll your hips on top of his just to feel his length brush against your sleek core. His teeth grasp your bottom lip, pull it down in a way that has you hissing in both pain and excitement and you can’t help but roll your hips once more, bask in the sensation of his turgid member right between your southern lips. You tilt your head back as his lips find your neck once more, attach to the soft spot underneath your jawline to leave his mark there—something he knows to be your utter weakness.

A breathy sigh of elation escapes from your lips and you feel him smile against your skin, you feel his teeth dragging across your neck just so he can playfully bite your jawline next and tease you further. You whisper his name and it sounds like a plea to his ears and one that he is more than glad to take on because damn, he has missed touching you like this more than he even realized. The more his mouth kisses you, the more his fingers brush against your delicate flesh, the more he feels compelled to. So he explores your body more, basks in the way you sigh for him, arch your back, roll your hips, call his name and abandon yourself to his every touch. It is at the apex of your arousal and frustration that his fingers finally find the treasure right between your legs, the sweet spot he had been craving all this time.

The pads of his fingers brush against the sleek skin to gather your juices and slowly bring them up to his mouth so that he can taste them and hum as he sucks his own digits like he would if they were covered with honey instead. The scene is so lewd it prompts a grunt to leave your parted lips while the arousal deepens right between your legs, coiling down to his own turgid member. You watch his eyes zone in onto your dripping sex, you watch them light up with wanton desire and it is then that you beg him, truthfully beg him to lay his hands on you.

“Touch me, please.”

The plea is nothing more than a pained whimper and yet it rings loud and clear into his ears and, oh God does it work because in a fraction of a second, those fingers that were inside his mouth find your core again and this time, they are there to stay. His digits press hard against your swollen clit and draw deep circles onto it while his eyes fix on your face to catch the way it morphs with pleasure.

He drinks up every little whine, every flutter of the eyes, every tilt of the head, every single bite of the lips, every little quiver of your body on top of his.

“Lift your hips, baby.” His voice is hoarse as he speaks those words, laced with all the arousal clouding all of his thoughts and the fire you can see in his eyes makes your head spin and your mouth run dry. The way he wants you, the way he plans to claim you over and over again on this ragged couch are so clear in his gaze you can’t help but whine in utter anticipation and follow his every instruction.

So you leave his neglected cock and lift your hips high enough for him to drag down his fingers and play with your folds instead. His touch is soft at first, tentative even, but all the more enticing. It makes your desire grow deeper, it makes your body quiver with impatience and expectancy and he loves every little second of it. To torture you like this, to slowly drive you insane before throwing you over the edge of utter bliss makes him feel absolutely dizzy and just like an addict, it keeps him wanting more of it.

“You’re so wet,” he mutters under his breath and you let out a strangled whine in response that has him chuckling lightly underneath you. The teasing glint in his eyes, that little smirk that pulls his lips slightly upwards to the side make you want to lean forward and kiss him until you run out of breath but oh, that thought gets swiped away in an instant by the sudden intrusion of two of his fingers right inside your sex.

Your head falls backwards, your muscles tense and your jaw slacks as your walls contract around his heavenly fingers, adjusting to the stretch so quickly he has another finger plunged deep inside of you in an instant. You call his name once more, let a trembling breath escape your parted lips and Jeongguk takes that as an encouragement to pump his fingers in and out of you. The pace is torturously slow and it has you wetting your lips over and over again whilst your arousal grows bigger and bigger, trailing down your thighs.

His fingers curl into you and you hiss, bite your bottom lip and go rigid on top of him and the sight is so beautiful he does it again and then once more just to see you crumble and tremble and give in into the impossible pleasure spreading through your limbs like liquid fire.

He lifts himself up enough to bring his mouth to your naked breasts and envelope one of your nipples with his soft rosy lips. You gulp down heavily and find purchase onto his raven locks with one of your hands while the other one ventures out between your lifted legs to seek his erection and brush your fingers against it.

The little grunt of appreciation that comes with the simple touch spreads a smile on your lips, encourages you to wrap your fingers around it to pump it a few times, spreading your juices all over his hard length.

“I want to feel you,” you mutter under your breath and Jeongguk’s teeth pull a little on your turgid bud making you hiss in both pleasure and pain.

When his eyes fix on you, a long shiver runs down your spine. Goosebumps gather on your flesh and your heart turns rampant in your chest, “Then ride me, baby.”

The pressure of his fingers inside your core disappears as quickly as it came and it leaves you startled, contracting around nothing but thin air and mourning the sudden loss. His invitation, though, hangs in the air heavy like stones and thick like fog. And it is that invitation, the temptation in taking the lead that prompts both of your hands to push on his chest until he’s flat on the couch once more, looking up to you with all the desire burning deep inside his stomach.

It is still him that guides you, though, encourages you to take command and make him yours. It’s his fingers that wrap around his length to align himself to your dripping sex. It’s his free arm that wraps around your stomach and pulls you down so that you can finally meet his member and it’s still him that pushes you down just enough for the tip of his cock to brush against your sleek folds.

Wetting your lips, with your eyes pointedly fixed on his, you sink onto him then, ever so slowly, just so you can bask in the sensation of being filled up to the brim for the first time in weeks and let it last for as long as possible. Jeongguk lets out a sigh underneath you, his eyes closing as he lets go to the blissful sensation that is your walls contracting around him, welcoming him back with a tight embrace that already menaces to cut his oxygen intake short.

His free hand finds the supple curve of your ass and wraps around it as you sink completely onto him and let out a pleased sigh at the sensation of him filling you whole. You find purchase on his chest as you lift your hips back up ever so slightly and when his eyes find yours once more and lock you there, you start moving on top of him.

The lewd sound of skin slapping on skin fills the empty apartment, quickly followed by your soft sighs, readily amplified by both of his hands squeezing your bottom cheeks.

Jeongguk’s mouth hangs open, his eyes fixed on your face as you quicken your pace on top of him, rolling your hips every now and then just to hear his grunts, just to feel his nails dig into your flesh more and in a way that is bound to leave half-moon shaped marks scattered across it.

You arch your back a little and lean back to rest your hands on his knees instead and roll into him faster, pushing him deeper until he’s brushing against your cervix in that delicious way that always brings you crumbling down in the span of a few minutes. The guttural sound that escapes from deep down your throat makes him desperate to hear more and to feel the delectable way your walls would squeeze him at the apex of your high. It is then that one of his hands leaves your bottom cheeks in favour of your swollen bud, the very trigger of your pleasure.

The way you call his name then drives him absolutely insane, convinces him that his name has never sounded so beautiful before and oh, it turns his fingers fervent, prompts his hips to roll up into you to meet you halfway, faster and deeper and that’s how you lose your battle for control, that is how you end up giving in to him and letting him claim you with everything he has to offer.

Jeongguk’s hips snap into yours in time with the furious pace of his digits atop your clit, drawing perfect circles on to it that turn you blind and deaf to your own screams and mewls of ecstasy. He calls your name with a deep grunt but you cannot hear it when your ears are ringing so loudly, when your heart is beating so fast inside your chest it might explode soon, when your vision completely disappears and your body starts to quiver on top of his as you lose control.

The pleasure hits you like an unexpected wave of cold water and it steals your breath and sanity away. You come all around him mewling out loud his name and in that moment it doesn’t matter that you might stir awake some monster, that you might reveal your location to the nightmares waiting for you, no, all that matters is the pleasure and how absolutely paradisaical this moment feels.

Jeongguk’s eyes of charcoal are the first thing you see when you finally open yours, when the pleasure subdues and you come back down on Earth, to the here and now. And it’s those eyes of fire that make you rock your hips into him, that make you lift your ass and slap it back onto his thighs hard and fast.

The sounds that erupt from his mouth are like music to your ears and they guide your every movement and oh, you’d bring him down with you like this over and over again but Jeongguk begs you to slow down, to let him enjoy this moment a little bit longer until he has no choice but to paint your walls white.

“Turn around, baby,” he instructs after wetting his lips, his voice deep and hoarse and filled with the passion and desire driving his every movement, his every word.

His legs spread to welcome your ass right between them and as you find purchase on the couch, you let your sex sink back onto him, rejoicing in the new stretch this position provides.

A string of curses escapes his mouth drawing a little wicked smirk on your lips and prompting your hips to snap into his harder. Your hands are both sprawled on the couch to keep yourself standing enough to keep this perfect angle that is bound to turn the both of you absolutely insane. Your body is still quivering with the aftermath of your first orgasm and the lightheaded sensation that still lingers in your system makes your hips move furiously on top of his, drawing all kind of beautiful sounds from his parted lips.

You turn your head back enough to fix your eyes on his face, watch the way it morphs with pleasure. You call his name once, twice in a row and Jeongguk grunts and snaps his hips back into you, hard and fast to the point he’s about to erupt deep inside of you. You can see it in his eyes: the desire, the wanton need, the desperate search for his own release and the more you look at him like this, the more he fucks into you like this, the faster your heart beats, the harder your blood flows in your veins.

Jeongguk’s hips slow down, his bottom lip trembles with the breath that escapes from his lungs and he doesn’t have enough time to utter his next words, to explicitly say what he so desperately desires from you because you push your hips back once more, roll them onto his turgid shaft and fuck yourself on him, impale yourself on his cock until you are crumbling, breaking to tiny pieces right within his grasp. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of your quivering limbs, off of your ass still bouncing up and down in front of him, off of his cock plunging deep in and out of you. It is then that he takes the lead once more, pushes you flat on the couch so that he can stand on his knees and pound deep inside of you.

His hips snap into yours so hard and fast you don’t have a spare second to catch your breath, to allow yourself to come down from this impossible high. You mewl his name as his hands find purchase on the small of your back and he roughens up his pace, grunts your name in a row, tells you how impossibly good you feel so tight around him, squeezing him to madness. And you drink up all those words, eat them up like a famished woman on a deserted island and oh, do you galvanize him even further with your sighs of ecstasy, with your pleas for him to fuck you harder, faster, stronger.

If you close your eyes you can almost see his luscious thighs, the way his ass snaps with his hips as he pushes deep inside of you, the way his back contracts with the effort of keeping himself standing right above you, the way sweat shines on his golden skin like fine pearls. You can almost see his raven hair getting wet and stick to his forehead and to his neck and oh, how you’d love to tug on those strands, elicit a hiss out of him and throw him over the edge just like that but instead, it’s Jeongguk that leans forward to grasp your hair, tug on it until you have no choice but arch your back and tilt your head back.

Your eyes open to bore into his as you bite your bottom lip for him, heave out a sigh of ecstasy that is quickly followed by a string of pleas for him to cum right inside of you like this, fill you up to the brim on this ragged couch inside an apartment that isn’t your own, in a city you have never seen before.

Jeongguk grasps your neck then, pushes his fingers on the soft skin deep enough to cut the oxygen intake in half and then he kisses you fully on the mouth, claims your lips with the same ferocity set right between your legs and just like that, you come once more and as your orgasm coils down your thighs and soils the couch further, he shoots his pleasure deep inside of you. You feel his hips snap and still as he lets out a deep grunt of liberation, you feel his hands quiver on your neck and on the small of your back, you hear the stream of little curses that leave his mouth as his orgasm just keeps on coming and coming and coming and you don’t have to look to know his eyes are trained on your sex, dripping with the mixture of both of your pleasures.

The sight of you like this leaves Jeongguk breathless, it leaves him wanting more of this, more of you, it leaves him wishing he could fuck you just like this for the rest of your lives without having to think about anything else outside those four walls. His fingers leave your neck then, allow you to breathe in freely as he slowly drags his cock out of you in favour of his mouth because hell, ever since you started undressing him, this is all he could think about. His tongue brushes against your sleek folds and a deep shiver runs down your spine, followed by a whimper. You call his name softly in question, you tilt your head a little to the side just so you can glimpse at his face but Jeongguk’s answer comes in the form of his tongue flattening completely atop your sex and in the deep grunt that erupts from deep within his throat. The taste of your pleasure mixed with his own is inebriating, quite potentially addicting and so very sweet he just can’t help but gather it all on the tip of his tongue, careful not to waste a single drop of it.

“You taste so good, baby,” he mutters under his breath and you shiver at the lewd words, at the way his eyes are still trained on your sex with all that passion burning deep inside of them. Your body falls completely on the couch then, your ass slightly tilted upwards to offer him the perfect view and angle to keep tasting you like this with his relentless tongue. He laps at your folds, lets his tongue move right between them to gather the nectar he so desperately craves right from the source, oh so delectably deep within you and when you start trembling slightly, when soft sighs start leaving your pretty and swollen lips, he decides to attack your clit too, suckle on the sensitive bud until you are fisting the couch beneath you and begging him to keep on going even though you know you cannot take much more, even though literally every single muscle in your body is aching right about now.

His hands grasp your hips, keep you perfectly still as he devours you whole and he doesn’t stop, not even to catch his breath, until you’re a quivering mess all over again, mewling his name and coming all over his face. And Jeongguk, oh, he loves every second of it and still makes sure to welcome every drop of your pleasure on his tongue to gulp it down and feed on its sweet and sour taste as if this were the very first time.

Your body gives out and you let yourself go completely, close your eyes while coming down from your high and every word that leaves his mouth is muffled by the loud ringing in your ears, by the heavy breaths that leave your heaving chest, by the loud drumming of your heart.

It’s the tenderness of his touch, the way his arms envelop you whole that bring you back to the present, to the empty apartment and it’s his lovely lips on your forehead as he pulls you up to welcome you in his tight embrace that keeps you from falling into a deep slumber.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he whispers, chuckling slightly at the way you hum while closing your eyes, genuinely fighting against the need to just shut down and recharge.

He hums then, places another soft kiss on your temple and tangles your limbs together while making himself comfortable on the raggedy couch.

“Sleep then, baby. We have a big day ahead of us and I want to leave as soon as we can after going out to find some food.”

A smile forms on your lips then and you nod your head a couple of times. Yes, for a second you almost forgot about your dream and how it’s about to become reality, how close you are, at last to the final destination.

So tonight, you fall asleep with no fear of tomorrow, you fall asleep in the blink of an eye without having to trick yourself into closing your eyes and shutting down all of your thoughts. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, you sleep peacefully in his arms without a single nightmare coming to haunt your dreams. Tonight, the happy memories running through your head behind those closed lids do not burn and turn to ashes, no, they shine brighter than a thousand suns because, for the first time in weeks, you actually believe they could turn into reality soon.

There are some things you can feel in your guts long before they happen. They just sit there, on the pit of your stomach, to make you nervous, nauseous and restless even though you don’t know what they are just yet.

When you wake up and lift your head from his naked chest just so you can stare at his beautiful, peaceful face, you instantly know it’s one of those days. The nervousness sips into your system all at once, cutting your breath short, turning your heart into a caged bird eager to escape. Yet, you don’t utter a single word because today it’s a big day. The day.

You don’t say a word when he kisses you as soon as he wakes up nor when he makes plans for your departure. You don’t even say anything when he puts his almost-empty bag behind his back and walks out the door to scout for some food to bring with you on your trip to salvation.

A lot of words are wasted and gulped down, trapped in the deepest recess of your being where no one can see them or hear them except yourself. And those words menace to choke you, to burn you and consume you until nothing but ashes are left as you wait for him sitting on that same couch you made love on top of last night.

You wait. And wait. And the seconds tick by turning into minutes that turn into hours and the longer you wait, the worse you feel and it’s when your head is starting to spin, when it becomes too hard for you to breathe, when it’s impossible for you to focus on anything else that isn’t the worst-case scenario that you finally get up from the damn couch, pull the backpack on your shoulders and leave the apartment.

Smoke welcomes you back into the real world outside your happy bubble. It stings your eyes, it makes them water and has you coughing out in desperate need of clean air and you know the wiser thing would be to run back to the relative safety of the apartment but the uneasiness in your stomach grows bigger and bigger, dilating like oil at sea, menacing to take over every single cell you’re made of. So, you walk. Walk away from your pretty perfect house, the one you built out of cards last night even though you knew it was going to inevitably collapse soon, the one where you sought peace and happiness and hope for a bright future. You leave it all behind because you have no other choice but to.

The eerie silence of the city is one you’ve experienced countless of times before and therefore you know it’s nothing but the quiet before the storm hits, a trap to make you lower your guard enough for the monsters to attack and take you down with them and as you walk through the deserted and unknown alleys, the feeling of being followed and watched takes over, prompts your legs to move faster just in case you need to start running for your life.

You’ve never been out on your own before. You always had Jeongguk to guide you, to protect you. It takes just a few minutes on your own out there to realise how much you depend on him, how bloody helpless you are on your own out here in the real world where nothing goes according to plan and you can’t count on anyone except for yourself. Again, you realise how lucky you had been all your life, how many little things you took for granted and it makes you wonder if this isn’t some sort of punishment or even a lesson being taught to whole humanity so that one day, the few survivors can learn from it and not repeat the same damn mistakes they’ve made before.

The sound of your name breaks the silence, cuts it in half, rips it to shreds. You whip your head around in the direction of the sound and it’s Jeongguk that you see right there, running through the wreckage the monsters have left behind in that unmistakable way that can only mean one thing: run or perish. So you outstretch your arm for him, lace your fingers together and start running right alongside him without asking a single question and without even looking behind your back.

Your heart soars with relief and gratitude for his salvation and that emotion slightly subdues the uneasiness in your stomach, slowly puts it to sleep as your feet hit hard on the bitumen while you trace your steps back to the apartment, its four safe walls and most importantly the car waiting for you there, that very car that promises to take you the hell away from all of this once and for all. Your grasp around his fingers tightens and as it does, his eyes land on you and that little smile of his twists his lips, at last, to bring warmth to your heart and body, to bring peace to the raging war inside your head.

The apartment’s door slams shut behind your backs and you both press your bodies on it to keep it firmly shut as you try and catch your breath. It is only when you feel his body relax against yours that the words come out.

“What happened?”

Jeongguk grimaces, shakes his head while closing his eyes while a little sigh escapes his lips, “I let my guard down. I was so sure those fuckers were far away deep down the city’s core I was surrounded in an instant. There were so fucking many…”

Your hand comes to his cheek and he leans into the touch immediately, without even noticing. The warmth of your touch placates his heart and brings his eyes on you. They are sweet and filled with love and you can’t help but lean in to kiss his lips.

“It’s ok. We’re alive and we’re about to get the hell away from here.”

Jeongguk smiles at you, nods his head a couple of times before pulling you fully into him, wrapping his loving arms around you and then resting his head in the crook of your neck. He insists that your perfume still lingers there up to this day and it doesn’t matter how much you tell him it is not possible, that any trace of your favourite perfume has long gone, he still claims that as his favourite spot that tastes and smells just like you.

Your fingers find purchase on his shirt, tug on it to bring him even closer, so close there is not a single inch of your bodies that is not touching and it’s right then that the bubble bursts, at last. It takes nothing more than a small touch, a little brush of your fingers against his skin.

Jeongguk hisses in pain and your heart stops.

Jeongguk releases you from his embrace and his eyes full of horror and dread fix on your face, cutting the air out of your lungs.

Jeongguk lifts his shirt up to reveal a red, bloodied mark on his left hip and your world crumbles for the second time in just two weeks.

Jeongguk takes in a sharp, trembling breath and tears start rolling down your cheeks as you furiously shake your head, frantically denying to yourself the truth laid out right before your eyes.

Jeongguk calls your name, puts both of his hands on your cheeks to brush the tears away but it’s a lost battle when they keep coming and coming like water pouring out of a splintered dike.

Tears fall from his eyes too. Thick as pearls, clear as glass, rare as diamonds. And you hate them because the more you look at them rolling down his cheeks, the more real it gets.

“N-no, no, Jeonggukie, no,” your bottom lip quivers, your voice breaks, your body trembles under his gaze as if an earthquake has been trapped right inside of you and it’s now breaking loose, erupting deep within you. You choke on your tears as you grab both of his arms with all the strength you have left in you, pull him into you as if that would stop the venom from spreading and taking his beautiful heart away, “Please.”

You don’t know if your plea is for him to tell you that it’s going to be ok, that this is just a nightmare, nothing to be scared of when you’ll soon open your eyes anyways and realise how stupid you were being or if it’s for some deity up there to help you, to grant you another miracle.

You don’t know but either way, it falls on deaf ears and it doesn’t matter how much you cry and scream and beg and pull him into you, nothing changes. You had your chance, didn’t you? You were granted a wish, a proper miracle back inside that car less than twenty-four hours ago. That was it, that was your first and final ticket and you carelessly used it, without even thinking, without even… You break. There are a million tiny pieces of yourself right there on the ground, sprawled across the dirty floor like an impossible puzzle to rearrange.

“Baby.” His voice is soft. No trace of the fear he feels right inside his heart, not a single trace of the anger and despair running through his veins. His last gift to you, the only thing he has to offer, it would seem, is his feigned peace of heart and mind, “Baby, listen to me.”

You don’t want to listen because deep down, you already know what he’s going to say and you do not want to hear those words, you don’t want to have to remember them ever leaving his mouth. So you fight him, yank away from his arms, try to run from him and the new reality that you’ve been thrown into but there is no hiding, no running this time. It’s game over, right there above your heads, written in crooked and red all caps.

“Listen to me!”

It would be easy to close your eyes and let yourself drift inside that happy land full of memories you retract to whenever things get too intense and heavy but his eyes are filled with raging fire, dancing flames of coal that hold your gaze on him, trap you there so that you can’t escape, not even for a second, not this time.

“There is a gun inside my bag, I want you to take it and—”

“NO!” The scream that erupts from your mouth scratches your throat, burns you from the inside out with the same force of those flames still trapping you there, within the tight grasp of his hands on your shoulders.

“Please, baby,” one of his hands moves to caress the top of your head and you close your eyes to relish into the touch knowing it will probably be your last. You lean into his hand as it reaches one of your cheeks once more and the softest sob escapes your parted lips as you try with all your might to deny the fact that it is over, that this is it and there is no going back.

“Please don’t make me do it,” your voice breaks, quivers helplessly as you open your eyes once more, fix them back into his beautiful, shining ones. You can see the pain there, the guilt and despair laced with the fear of doom but what you see is nowhere close what Jeongguk really feels.

He’s scared. Scared beyond belief and far more than he has ever been. He’s scared of the unknown, he’s scared of the pain, he’s scared of leaving you behind like this, of what will happen to you once he is gone and nobody is left to protect you. He is scared of what you’ll do to yourself after he… but he has no choice, he has no fucking say in all of this and he hates himself for everything. He hates himself for being weak in his final moments, for not having the courage to do it himself but most importantly for allowing this to be your last time together. It shouldn’t be like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But all these thoughts, all those words, they never leave his mouth. No. What comes out of his mouth is a reminder and a plea, all in one.

“You promised. We promised.”

It hits you just like a slap across the face, one so hard it would tilt your head to the side and turn the skin tender and boiling hot to the touch.

You remember that night. Sleeping under the stars in a dark alley trying to breathe as silently as possible to not gather the attention of the monsters roaming through the city, you laced your fingers together and promised with nothing but the night sky as your witness to never let yourselves become one of those soulless monsters. You promised while praying in your heart it’d never come the day either one of you would have to abide by it.

And now here you are.

“Don’t let me become one of them, baby, please. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Tears roll down his cheeks, harder and faster than ever before and each droplet breaks you a little more until truly, you feel like nothing of you is left. In this moment, you give up everything you’ve ever been. In this moment, you rip your soul to shreds and part ways with it knowing you’ll never be reunited with it in this life.

The sense of void engulfs you, swallows you whole and all you can hear are his words on repeat and oh, all you can see are those beautiful eyes of his pleading you to do it and you don’t know if it’s your hands that reach for his backpack to seize the gun nestled inside of it or if someone—or something—else is guiding your trembling fingers but, in an instant, the gun is there, right within your grasp and pointed straight to his head.

Jeongguk is looking at you and he tries to smile, tries to regard you with all the warmth filling his heart but he can’t hide the fear that is trapping him there, cutting the air out his lungs, turning his heart restless against his ribs. He fears everything but what he fears the most is what he’ll become if he doesn’t die right here, right now. So he forces himself to smile, he forces himself to nod, he forces his eyes to close and a sigh to move past his lips.

The bang echoes in your ears.

The bullet goes right through his head and yet you can fill it stuck right inside your heart instead, twisting into the flesh until you cannot breathe or think and all that is left is the pain and the scream of agony that leaves your trembling lips.

The gun slips from your quivering hands and hits the hard ground and your eyes fix on it long enough to notice the pool of red tinting the floor, soiling the carpet, slowly reaching for your shoes.

His blood.

You fall on the ground and break into tiny frail shreds of porcelain, so sharp they could cut deep into the skin, infiltrate under it and kill you from the inside out.

Your quivering hands are lost inside your hair, fisting them so hard you might pull them from your skull but you do not care nor feel any of the pain spreading through your body. No, not now when your eyes are fixed on what remains of his beautiful face. Those eyes that used to hold galaxies in them are void now, dark and lifeless like a night sky without a single star. Those pretty rosy lips you kissed until yours ached are now pale and turning cold, stuck in a perpetual “o” of utter shock. Those warm and delicate hands that used to hold you, caress you, explore you are now grasping nothing but the thin air and you open them to lace your fingers with them one last time.

One.

Last.

Time.

The desperate cries come then.

You are deaf to your own screams, blind to the tears coiling down your face, oblivious to the way your body shakes with each strangled breath, with each inconsolable sob. You throw yourself on his motionless body, rest your head atop his chest as if he were nothing more than asleep and you cling to his shirt begging him to hug you back just like he used to, reassure you that it’s all going to be ok, that this is just another one of your crazy nightmares, that none of this is real.

But when you open your eyes he’s still lying motionless on the ground, his eyes are still void and staring up at the ceiling and his arms are still sprawled on the floor and not tucked around your body to keep you safe. And the worst part of it is that this is all because of you. You did this to him.

The bang echoes in your ears again, louder and louder with each passing second and closing your eyes doesn’t work anymore because now, all you see behind those closed lids is his dead face and those bottomless black eyes.

Everything breaks inside of you, everything shatters and falls helplessly on the soiled floor to join him and fly away with him to a place far away from here. And oh, how much you wish you could join him, that you could pick up that damn gun, point it to your head and just let the last remnants of your soul go so that you won’t have to face this or live through this a second longer but you don’t and you try to tell yourself it’s because you are a coward, that it’s because deep down you want to survive no matter what because it would be easier to accept that, it would be easier to just loathe yourself and think the most despicable things about yourself but, alas, it wouldn’t be the truth. No, even now, even when his eyes cannot see you anymore, even when his voice cannot reach you, and his hands cannot hold you, you’re still doing everything for him.

If you close your eyes, if you focus on the silence surrounding you hard enough to tune out the loud bangs ricocheting through your consciousness, you can almost hear him begging you to keep on living, to keep on fighting for your dream so that his death is not in vain, so that not everything is lost. But even still, it is not enough for you to lift yourself up, for your legs to move and bring you out of this apartment, out if this forsaken town. It is not enough for you to actually stand up and fight for your life, for a chance at survival, for an actual future. So you stay there, on the floor, with your arms wrapped around him and your head resting on his immobile chest. And you remain there for hours, crying until there are no tears left to cry, until your eyes burn and your throat aches, until the sun goes down and you are enveloped in darkness.

You stay there, motionless just like him except for the steady rise and fall of your chest and not even the noises coming down the hallway, not even the sound of steps startle you, prompt you to leave him behind and run to safety.

Your eyes move to the door as it swings open and you’re almost ready to welcome your end without even trying to put up a fight but it is not a monster that stands right there, on the edge of this apartment door. No, it’s a human and that human is pointing a gun straight to your head.

“Fuck!”

The man curses, takes a step back and pulls his gun away from your face to point it on the floor instead.

“You’re human.” He says and you notice how deep his voice is, warm like honey and comforting like a lover’s hug, “I almost shoot you in the head.”

The man’s eyes look kind even though the shock is still written all over his face but that warmness disappears in an instant as he finally takes in the scenery before him: a pool of blood, a pair of void eyes staring straight up at the ceiling, a gun abandoned on the floor not too far away from your feet.

It is clear from the way he looks at you that he’s seen this before, probably even lived through it and the tenderness in his gaze, the way he takes careful steps towards you, the way he softly calls for you with a simple ‘hey’, oh, they all bring the tears and despair back and within seconds you are sobbing all over again and so hard your body shakes and menaces to actually splinter with the force of your pain. It is then that this stranger’s arms engulf you, surround you just like the tallest and safest towers ever created by mankind and you let him because you need this, you need someone to hold you together even for just a few seconds and even if you don’t know his name and he doesn’t know yours.

“Joon, the whole floor is clear, looks like we found somewhere for a good night’s sleep tonig—oh…”

There’s another man standing at the door now, his eyes big as saucers as he takes in the scene before his very eyes and you watch how his mouth opens and closes as he struggles to put together the whole thing and honestly, if this were a movie it would almost be amusing and comical but even the hope to wake up and discover it was all part of a nightmare, a recreation of your mind after watching a stupid horror movie alone in the middle of the night is now gone, completely erased.

“Yes, bring the others in, we’re going to stay.”

The other boy looks up at the stranger still holding you—Joon?—with questioning eyes but doesn’t dare to speak a single word and instead retreats to the end of the corridor in utter silence.

“It’s just four of us,” he says then, looking down at you with a tender smile, “We need somewhere to stay for the night and you probably shouldn’t be alone right now.”

He welcomes your silence with a slight nod of his head and then his arms are gone and you almost reach out for him to beg him to keep you in his embrace until you’re sure you’re not going to break apart into thousands of pieces but you don’t. Too afraid to ask, too scared to even dare to.

“We’re headed to the Refuge. Have you heard of it? It’s quite close at this point, if the rumours are true. It’s a community of humans that has successfully kept those fuckers out.”

“We…we were going there too.” Your voice is small and croaky, barely above a whisper but in the silence of the apartment, he hears your words loud and clear and responds to them with a hum.

“You could come with us.”

His words are simple yet they startle you, they prompt your eyes to fix back on Jeongguk’s lovely face and suddenly you are hyperventilating because no, you can’t leave him behind like this, you can’t leave his body here for those monsters to feed on. You just can’t.

The stranger’s arms are around you in an instant once more, his voice is soothing in your ears as he tries to calm you down, to stop the tears and the choking sobs but all his words fall on deaf ears as you start breaking apart all over again. You scream and cry your heart out and he lets you, he doesn’t leave your side again though, no, he keeps you right there within his embrace and he doesn’t give up and it does not make sense for someone you’ve barely even met to care so much about you, to have this much patience but maybe, maybe after seeing so much horror, after parting with so many different people just like you did he decided not to leave anyone else behind if he can, not even random girls met in an empty apartment in a forsaken, nameless city on a crumpled map.

“I know it’s hard but it’s going to be ok, I promise. You can’t give up now, ok? We’re so close, so freaking close and I didn’t know him but if he cared about you just as much as you evidently care about him, I’m sure he’d want you to move on, he’d want you to fight and win this battle and survive.” His words do come through this time and they should probably soothe your heart but they break it harder because no, he didn’t know Jeongguk but then why do his words match him so well he could have said them himself? You know he’d want you to follow them, to bring yourself to salvation and wasn’t that exactly what you told yourself while embracing his dead body all those hours ago?

The stranger breaks the embrace enough to look inside your eyes, to tentatively reach out to dry your tears and there is so much affection in his gaze, in the careful way he touches you, in the little dimpled smile he shows you and you already know, you’ll never be able to thank him enough for all of this.

“Who are you?” Your question comes out as a trembling whisper yet he catches on to it and smiles harder, pulls his gaze away from your face as his cheeks turn a lovely shade of coral. What you meant to ask was if he’s an angel, someone sent from up above to save you and guide you through this difficult path and maybe he gets what you mean or maybe he doesn’t but still, he replies and it’s the easiest answer he could ever give you, “I’m Namjoon.”

It is then, as you whisper his name and get acquainted with it that the other boy returns, followed by two more young men and their belongings which, just like yours, fit all inside a single bag.

“This is Jimin,” the boy next to you points to the shortest one of the bunch and you watch him blush as he slightly bows down while chewing on his bottom lip. He was the one that found you and Namjoon on the ground and his eyes still spark with curiosity but he doesn’t dare ask any questions and you are grateful for that.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon says, pointing towards the guy standing right next to Jimin, his fingers laced around the other boy’s in an unequivocal way that reminds you in an instant of the way Jeongguk always used to hold your hand any chance he got, especially the past few weeks.

“And that is Seokjin.” The last boy waves at you and the discomfort in his features is enough for you to pull your gaze away from him and fix it back on the ground.

No matter how much you try, you can’t shake the fact that this is wrong, that all of this is just wrong. You staying here, those boys standing here all around you, invading the privacy of this place and what it holds in it and you hate that this is somewhat normal to them—and to you—that it doesn’t shock humans anymore to find others with holes in their heads or even worse.

Silence envelops you and none of them breaks it and it stretches on and on until you can’t take it anymore, until it feels like you cannot breathe anymore.

“He was bitten,” you utter then, voice trembling and tears falling on your cheeks slowly like fat, translucent pearls. “He asked me to… I had no choice but… He—His name is-was Jeongguk.”

The boys bow their heads when you lift your head up and you can see the sadness in their eyes, the recognition and understanding that comes with experiencing all of this on your own skin, with your own eyes and maybe that’s why you don’t say anything when Namjoon slowly pulls Jeongguk away from your arms, maybe that’s why you let Seokjin lift you up from the ground in favour of the couch, maybe that’s why you let them touch him, close his eyes, pull him away and clean his blood off of the floor the best they can.

“We’ll bring him with us, we’ll bring him to the Refuge and spread his ashes there, away from all of this. What do you say?”

“Why are you doing this for me?” You look up to Namjoon while you hug your legs close to your chest and in that moment you don’t realise how ungrateful you must sound to him, questioning him and his motives over and over again instead of thanking him with all that you’ve got but he doesn’t comment on it, no, he offers you a gentle smile and a little sigh that holds all the exhaustion he must feel in it.

“Because there’s too little of us left to not care about each other at this point.”

Those words warm your heart, they warm your shivering body and move you in ways you didn’t think possible anymore. That little part left of your soul holds onto his words, onto the hope he provides and it hangs on to it with both nails and teeth refusing to let go and it’s that part of you that makes you open your mouth once more but this time, it is to offer some help and not just throw more burden to the mix.

“We found a car. It still has fuel in it and we planned to use it to reach the Refuge.”

Maybe this was all meant to be. Maybe, you were meant to meet and save those boys and they were meant to find you and pull you back together in the darkest hour of your life. Yes, maybe it was all written in the stars and it might not be fair because life, you’ve learned, hardly ever is but when your eyes land on the tall white walls of a city hidden in the mountains the following night, all the puzzle pieces fit together.

You watch the flames dance, feel the warmth of the fire on your hands, rising up to your arms and slowly reach your face like comforting hands tying to caress your body.

The heat makes your eyes water, makes your skin feel impossibly hot and yet you don’t move a single inch and find yourself almost wishing those flames would actually reach out and claim you right along with him, burn you until there’s nothing but ashes to remind the world that once, you existed. But it’s not you that burns, no, it’s Jeongguk. You watch his lovely body disappear inside those flames: his strong arms that used to hold you, his rosy lips that used to kiss you and call your name so sweetly whenever you were together, those beautiful eyes of coal you always got lost in, that luscious raven locks you loved to run your fingers through or tug on depending on the mood… you watch it all burn and disappear.

There is a comforting hand on your shoulder. The touch is delicate and sweet, enough to soothe your aching soul without it being too invasive and you are glad for it, for his presence by your side. Kim Namjoon saved you in more ways than meet the eyes. He saved you two nights ago when he found you holding Jeongguk’s lifeless body, he saved you when he put you inside that car with his friends, he saved you when he successfully brought you here, to the Refuge, where you can now freely mourn your loss and do it right. This is the first proper goodbye you were granted ever since it all started and in this moment you part ways with the love of your life but also with your family and friends, with everyone you’ve ever met that turned into an impossible monster or perished before the venom could turn them into one. And you allow yourself to break a little because it’s ok, you’re allowed this one moment of weakness now, you’re allowed to cry your heart out for all the things you’ve lost during this fight.

Your knuckles turn white against the necklace around your neck. The sharp ends of the feather dig into your skin and you let it, hell, you even grasp it tighter as if trying to merge your hand with it as if that could somehow bring him back or let him live right inside of you to his fullest. The tears run faster down your cheeks because this, right within your grasp, is all there’s left of him: a necklace and your memories. Nothing more.

All that Jeongguk was, his past and present and future, they were all swept away in an instant, like dust under the force of the wind and you are the only one that remains to remember him, to tell his story to the world, to let him live on so that he won’t ever be forgotten amongst the millions of lives that were lost.

Just you, a necklace and a fist of ashes.

It’s with trembling fingers that you release them all in the air, let his entire being be swept away by wind so that it can cover the land all around you and be reborn in this field in the form of beautiful flowers, majestic trees, droplets of water to fill the river running down the hills.

The breeze is warm against your skin and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine his fingers caressing your body just like the wind is, you can almost imagine him embracing you through this air surrounding you, playing with your hair and enveloping your body.

For the first time in days, you smile. You smile at the thought of him being finally free and at peace right where he wanted to be, you smile at the thought of him looking down at you with his beautiful eyes, with pride shining in them. You smile at the thought of him nodding his head while patting yours, you smile at the idea of his fingers lacing with yours one last time as he says his goodbye with the promise of always looking down on you, of always protecting you, even from up there where nothing goes unseen. You smile and you thank him for loving you so much, for saving you countless of times even before the zombies arrived, even before you realized you were being saved and that you even needed to.

You thank him and tell him how much you love him, how you will never forget him, how you’ll keep cherishing him and keeping him right inside your heart for every second of your life from here moving forward and you repeat those promises you shared one year ago, on that altar, so that he knows you are his forever and no matter what, you’ll always belong to him just like him belonged to you until his very last breath.

When the touch of a hand warms your shoulders and brings you back on Earth, for a second you startle and foolishly hope to turn around and see him standing right there, smiling at you with his head slightly tilted to the side. But when you turn it’s not Jeongguk that welcomes you, no, it’s Namjoon with his timid smile, with eyes full of wonders and understanding and this time, your smile, incredibly, does not falter nor disappear.

Namjoon doesn’t utter a single word and he doesn’t need to because you know, even though you’ve barely met him, that he is simply there for you, that he is offering you his support and friendship amidst those difficult times and you don’t tell him how grateful and touched you are but a part of you suspects he already knows.

Your eyes drift away from his face and it is then that you notice the other three boys standing a few steps back from the two of you, their eyes fixed on you and the deserted land right behind your back.

They came.

You don’t know when they arrived or if they’ve been there the whole time but either way, you are grateful for their presence too because at least, someone else besides you is here to say goodbye to the wonderful man that was Jeon Jeongguk and it does not matter that they never met him and that they never will, they are still here to accompany his soul somewhere far away from this nightmare and the smile on your lips spreads while tears run down your cheeks once more.

You thank them, your voice nothing more than a trembling breath and they smile back at you, nod their heads and join you right there, at the edge of this green cliff where it’s easy to imagine a new world full of peace and love.

You look up at the sky once more and as the silence envelops you and the boys once more, you whimper out your farewell.

“Goodbye, Jeongguk.”

The grass is soft and ticklish under your feet as you walk through the empty path that leads to your favourite spot: the edge of the hill.

A warm smile spreads on your lips and you unconsciously fasten your pace as your eyes land on the vast sea of green, the clear sky up ahead, the dozens of flowers scattered all over the valley.

“Hey there, handsome.”

Your voice breaks the silence of the heaven-like place, gets carried away by the gust of wind that welcomes you right there, in front of the marble stone where you are bound to be found every single day, right when the sun rises up in the sky and shines brightly on everything in sight.

Your fingers reach out to caress the marble, feel the crevices that make out his name right under your digits. You’ve done this countless of times before and yet you still hope one day they’d get engraved in your digits and stay there to accompany you every single hour for the rest of your life.

You heave out a little sigh as you let your body fall on the ground to hug your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them.

You know this is futile, you know that there is absolutely nothing of him right there, under the ground, that this is just a symbol of his existence, of the fact that once, a great man named Jeon Jeongguk walked the Earth and yet, you still come here every day to talk to him, to see him and remember him like he used to be before everything crumbled down and burned.

This time, it feels different though. Your smile falters a little, you divert your gaze and fix it on the ground to play with the grass, pluck with your fingers whilst you search for the right words to speak because you know, the moment they’ll hang up in the air they’ll become real and part of you is still not ready to face it all, to embrace the inevitable change coming your way.

“Today is the day,” you say then before biting down your bottom lip whilst lifting your gaze back up. In an instant, the tombstone disappears and sitting right across from you is Jeongguk. His eyes are sparkling, his lips are twisted a little to the side in a gentle smile and he is nodding his head in encouragement, urging you to speak up.

“We’re leaving in an hour.” Your voice is small and full with the uncertainty you feel blossoming right inside your heart.

Five years have passed since that night in that city in ruin. Five years spent in this Refuge trying to save and rebuild humankind. Five years of battles and uncertainties and pain, so much pain, but also joy and relief and victories and now, now the nightmare is over and what awaits for you outside this safe haven is a world similar to the one you left behind before the zombie appeared. A normal world rebuilt by those that were left behind, a world full of normalcy and opportunities and peace.

But you are scared. Scared of the future, scared of leaving this place that has kept you alive and safe for so long, scared of leaving him behind even though there is nothing of him left in this place anyways. But Jeongguk smiles at those words and it’s one of those dazzling smiles that used to make butterflies dance in your stomach, that used to turn your heart into a hummingbird, that used to make you feel as warm as the sun itself. You can almost hear his voice then, telling you how happy he is and that you should not be afraid, that he’ll still be right here for you, watching over you every step of the way.

It’s then that the tears come and fall down your cheeks. It’s then that you nod your head and promise him you’ll be back, one day, to sit just like this on this spot of grass in front of his tombstone. It is also then that a pair of small hands comes up your face, hides the sight of Jeongguk from you, throwing you into a pitch-black darkness that instead of fear brings nothing but laughter.

“My, my, who is this? Could it be my little monkey, by any chance?”

Yoona’s laugh fills the air as you turn around and welcome her in your embrace to tickle her to the point of tears. Her eyes shine as she looks up at you and you can see so much of him in there sometimes it’s almost painful to look at her but today, today it serves as a reminder that you’ll always have a part of him right beside you, no matter what.

“I’m sorry, _______. I tried to buy you a little more time but she just wouldn’t sit still.”

Namjoon’s voice reaches you then and as you lift your eyes you watch him stand there with his apologetic smile, dimples in full display as he shakes his head while watching your daughter struggling under the torture of your fingers on her belly.

“It’s ok, don’t worry. I was done anyways.”

You smile at your kid, bump your nose together with hers and hug her tight to your chest. She’s your little miracle, the very last gift he left behind before turning into ash and when you thought all of you was gone, when you thought you’ll never be able to love anyone else anymore, she came your way and filled your heart with all the love of the world.

You hear Namjoon’s steps as he walks away, allowing you one last moment with the love of your life and this is just one thing more to add to the list you are immensely grateful to him for. At this point, you are convinced not even an entire lifetime will be enough for you to be able to repay him or thank him enough for all that he has done for you all these years.

“Are you ready to leave, baby?”

Yoona nods her head in excitement. She’s the adventurous type, just like her dad used to be, and the thought of seeing the outside world thrills her so much she could barely sleep last night. This place is all she’s ever known, all she’s ever seen but you told her about the world outside those high walls made of stone, you told her stories about faraway places that look nothing like the Refuge, you told her fairytales from your childhood but also memories of yourself, her grandparents, her father and now that this world she’s been dreaming about is suddenly within her grasp all she wants to do is reach her little arm out and grasp it with all her might.

“Are you sad, mommy?” Her little palm rests on your cheek and it is then that you realise a few tears have escaped your control once more. You quickly brush them away but that is not enough to bring the smile back on her lovely face, to erase the worried expression twisting her features. “Is it because of daddy?”

She turns around towards the tombstone then before reaching out her little arm to feel the characters that make out his name under her digits, just like you always do. You know she is caressing his face now, that she’s making sure he knows how much she loves him even though she has never seen his face before, even though she has never heard his voice before and all she can do is imagine, fantasize and dream about him.

“Will daddy be sad if we leave?”

Her voice is small and your heart breaks a little and oh, it takes all your strength to keep the tears from falling now, to hold the pain deep inside of you where she can’t see it. You tighten your grasp around her, rest your chin on her tiny little shoulder so that you can place soft kisses on her cheek and reassure her that it’s ok, that you’re going to be ok and that no matter what, he’ll always be right beside her and all she’ll ever need to do is close her eyes to see him and feel him all around her.

“No, baby girl. Daddy will always be with us, no matter where we go and he’s happy, so so happy we’re going on a little adventure.”

She smiles a little, nods her head a couple of times before diverting her gaze to the necklace around her neck. She grasps the feather with her tiny fingers, brings it to her lips to kiss it lovingly and then she turns to you and the storm seems to have passed, just like that.

“Because he’s right here, right?”

She brings the necklace towards your face and you nod a couple of times before pointing right to her heart, “And right here.”

Yoona smiles her brightest smile and untangles from your embrace in favour of the tombstone. You watch her throw her arms around the marble stone and hug it tight to her chest and then you hear her whisper her farewell words—Goodbye, daddy. I love you.—and oh, your heart breaks all over again in an instant. And you would break too, right then and there, if it weren’t for her little smile and for Namjoon’s voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We have to leave soon.”

His voice is apologetic and full of understanding and you offer him and your daughter a gentle smile as you finally rise up from your spot. Your baby throws her arms around your neck as you lift her up and warmth spreads through your body as you hug her closer to remind yourself why you are doing this, why you are leaving all of this behind. For Yoona.

Namjoon’s hand finds your shoulder then as he throws one of his arms around you and even though he doesn’t speak a single word, you hear all of the things he wishes he could say to you and when you look at him, you silently thank him over and over again like you have been doing every single day of these past few years.

But your last words in this place are not reserved for him, no, they are for Jeongguk and only for him to hear.

Goodbye, my love. I will always love you.

A gust of wind caresses your cheeks then and you smile at the bright sky above your head because deep down, you know this is him touching you and when you close your eyes, just for a second, you can hear his voice through the gentle breeze, whispering right inside your ears.

Don’t fear, my love. I’ll always be by your side. I love you.

#goldenclosetnet #fwlbingo #ficswithluv #jungkook smut #bangtanhq #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #jungkook angst #jeongguk angst #bts angts #bts ff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts react

409 notes · View notes

princessmisery666 · 2 years

Text

Can We Talk

Summary: This story is about the five moments that changed the course of Sam and Hayley’s lives that always started with; “Can we talk?”

Warnings: fluff, smidge of angst, Bobby’s death mentioned, friends to lovers, slow-ish burn.

W/C: 5.6k

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, OFC (Hayley) Mentioned: Bobby, Jody, Donna, Alex, Claire, The Fitzgeralds.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x OFC (Hayley)

Notes: Set season 8 onwards.

Bingo: @anyfandomfluffbingo Square Filled: Drinking Buddies.

A/N: I tried to write this in omniscient third but it didn't work out how I wanted. I changed it to limited third but there's probably still a sprinkling of omniscient third left here too. Also, I have intentionally switched between both character POV's in each scene.

Special Credits: @writethelifeyouwant for helping me work out the ending and @slytherkins whose help is always invaluable and she wrote some sections.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch - I can never thank you enough // all mistakes are my own.

Graphics: pics found on google. Title card made by me. Dividers @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Sam Winchester // AF Fluff Bingo

“Can we talk?”

That's the way it usually started. The answer was always yes, and what followed usually changed the course of their lives.

Sam and Hayley had become fast friends when they first met in Bobby Singer's kitchen, having more misfortune in common than two eight-year-olds had any business having. Hayley had been dumped at her Uncle Bobby's by her junkie mother, Sam, by his revenge-obsessed dad. Hayley had never met her father. Sam's mother was dead. It had helped both of them to have someone who understood, someone to talk to.

"Can we talk?" Hayley had asked when they were sixteen before asking Sam, who was already dreaming of Law school, to help her file for emancipation. When the judge granted it, Sam believed - for the first time - that he could be something more than his father, and it was freeing in a way he could never have imagined. Hayley's literal/legal freedom carried her away from Sam, but only physically. They stayed in touch, and she occasionally visited him at Stanford when she passed through. They were both looking for their place in the world. For Hayley, that meant being on the move. For Sam, that meant, for once in his life, staying put.

Life always drew them back together eventually, though.

The backstreet bar was so small it could barely be called that. It was more like a hole in the wall; dark, musty, with the stench of old men and filled with so much smoke, Sam didn’t want to stay inside any longer than he had to.

Though it had been eight years since they’d seen one another, Sam recognized Hayley immediately, even though her hair was long and a chocolatey shade of brown instead of the short, light blonde he remembered. A new nose piercing and a few tattoos on her arms didn’t detract from her smile, which, though not pointed at him, radiated kindness and warmth, reminding Sam that, for a time, that warmth had been the only good thing in his life.

That was why he hesitated to approach her. He wasn’t bringing good news, and as soon as he delivered it, that smile would descend into misery. He wanted to give her a moment longer of peace - and himself a second more to relive the memories of the times that kindness had been directed at him - before she noticed him.

For her part, cleaning glasses behind the bar, Hayley could be forgiven for not spotting the looming giant standing by the door right away, as the smoke in the room was so thick, most of the patrons couldn’t see beyond the person immediately next to them. Large as he was, her friend wasn’t a man who demanded attention. In fact, he quite often shied from it. But once she finally caught sight of him, she grinned brightly, until he shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans and shuffled toward her almost reluctantly. Hayley was familiar with that apologetic posture, was unaccustomed to not being met with a beaming smile and an enveloping hug, and when she understood what their absence meant, her grin fell.

“Hey, Sam,” she said, and her smile that time was fleeting and small, “you grew up.”

He’d been about to say the exact same thing to her, and it made him chuckle because somehow, it would have sounded lame coming from him. “That’s what happens when you don’t see someone for a while, stranger,” he said, leaning over the bar to meet her halfway in a semi-awkward hug. “Can we talk?”

Hayley called out she was taking a break to no one in particular and led Sam through the rarely-used kitchen. No one ate there anymore; the stench of cigarettes and body odor was not the most appealing of aromas to be surrounded by while chomping down on a ten-dollar steak.

The alleyway, littered with cigarette butts and large, overflowing dumpsters, smelled marginally better than the bar but still wasn’t the location Sam would have chosen to tell Hayley this news. However, he wasn’t going to prolong the situation by asking her to go somewhere else, and in the grand scheme of things, what did the location matter? The outcome would remain the same.

The door closed behind them, and she took a seat on an old chair that was more rot than wood. Sam seemed to be wrestling with something, so she patiently waited while he took the deepest of breaths, searching. Hayley had always viewed Sam as a formidable warrior; he’d told her the stories of both victories and failures, but watching him try to make himself appear smaller, shoulders hunched, hands still in his pockets, was unsettling. His unannounced appearance was enough for her to know something was wrong, but it seemed only yesterday the Winchester’s had prevented the apocalypse. Surely there couldn’t be another one looming.

This would be a moment they both carried with them for the rest of their lives. Hayley would remember this day as long as she lived, where she was, what she wore, the words Sam used. Sam would look back on it with a weird sense of fondness in the years to come, knowing this was the moment that planted the seed for their relationship to grow to what it eventually became.

So, in the end, the heartbreak was unavoidable. The way in which Sam delivered it was what mattered, and as long as he didn’t deliver the news in a song and dance, he couldn’t get it wrong.

“Bobby’s gone,” he said with a heavy sigh. “He passed a week ago. I’d been trying to track you down, but I was too late. I’m sorry.”

Of all the things she could have thought about, her mind worked backward, trying to figure out where she had been? What had she been doing while her Uncle was dying? She recalled seeing a missed call from an unknown number, and guilt numbed her.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, out of reflex and a reminder to herself more so than Sam. She had no idea whether or not Sam held any blame. She only knew her Uncle, and the selfless life he led had a short shelf life. “How did he...did he suffer?”

Hayley recalled asking the same question of the police officer who informed her of her mother’s death; the only difference this time was that she hoped that the answer was no. Hayley knew the hunting life, so she wasn’t asking if Bobby had been in pain. That, unfortunately, was a given. She was asking if he’d suffered, in the sense of, had he been ripped apart by some monster and bled out or possessed by a demon so that he was aware but not in control?

Sam had expected the question. It was the morbid detail every victim of loss wanted to know when they lost someone unexpectedly. He shook his head vehemently, “No, no. He died in a hospital. Dean and I were with him.”

It was partly true. Bobby hadn’t suffered; a bullet to the head courtesy of Dick Roman had put him in a coma. She didn’t need to know he’d run from his reaper and ended up a spirit with unfinished business, tied to the boys by Dean carrying his flask. The information wouldn’t bring her peace or comfort, so Sam omitted it. Sam didn’t mention that his brother and Cas had disappeared when Dick exploded, mainly because he didn’t want to burden her further with that fact, and he was also afraid that she’d insist on helping find them. Though she’d dabbled in hunting before, this life really wasn’t for her, and Sam had made a promise to Dean not to look for him, after all.

She nodded, and her shoulders slumped with relief, but her eyes darted back and forth, her mind in a distant memory of Bobby making a big deal of passing down his secret banana bread recipe. She’d begged him for years to show her, and when the old man caved in, they spent the afternoon hunting Sioux Falls for ‘the perfect bananas’. It took two years for her to work out that the reason Bobby had been reluctant to give her the recipe was because he used it as an excuse to entice her home every once in a while. Now there was no home to be enticed back to, and the realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Sam saw her fold in on herself, and he rushed to kneel at her feet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as she wept into his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised, not knowing if it were true but feeling responsible for the weeping woman.

The wet concrete had seeped into the denim of his jeans by the time her sobs subsided, but neither of them moved from the embrace for a long time.

Eventually, when his joints ached, and Hayley seemed to have run out of tears, he asked, “Hey, wanna get out of here? Grab some dinner?”

She nodded wordlessly, head still buried in his shoulder, and he had to be the one to pull back enough to wipe her tears. Soon enough, they found themselves in a small diner with sticky floors and faded leather booths. They reminisced about the man that raised them both and toasted in his honor. Then, when the owners shut off the lights and locked them out on the street, after a lingering hug and promises of being just a phone call away, they went their separate ways once again.

A few years later, Hayley, ‘Agent Carter’, strolled onto a crime scene in Wisconsin, flashed her Ginko’s-courtesy badge at the locals, and took charge. If she acted like she belonged, as Bobby had taught her - “you can get anywhere with a badge and a confident attitude, kid.” - then everyone would believe she did. Forty percent of hunting was getting into places she wasn’t allowed to be, and her Uncle’s advice had never steered her wrong.

A rookie deputy, who she’d already chewed out for trampling her crime scene, timidly lifted the tarp covering the corpse. She’d barely crouched to examine it when someone from behind her called. “Agent Carter, you know these guys, Agents Tyler and Sambora?”

Fortunately, the squeamish deputy holding the tarp wasn’t looking at her, so the panic that swept through her went unnoticed. It was one thing to deal with local law enforcement, but agents trained to detect bullshit was another matter altogether. She’d only been hunting for a few years, and she’d been lucky until now. However, when she whirled to face them, the panic dissolved to relief.

Agent Carter stood, turning in a way that made her hair swish around her shoulders like a shampoo commercial, and both men were caught off guard. Dean’s smile oozed confidence, and he was so clearly going to play the flirty angle. Sam was seemingly able to read his brother’s thoughts in his expression, and he silently willed him not to go there with a tight smile and subtle roll of his eyes. She smiled at them, more friendly and inviting than one might expect given the circumstances, and Hayley watched them size her up.

Sam frowned slightly as if there was a niggling thought he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It hadn’t been that long since she’d last seen Sam, but enough time that his hair had grown a few inches. It had been longer since she’d seen the eldest Winchester, and he’d aged like fine wine. They were instantly recognizable, but apparently, the same could not be said of her. She supposed it stood to reason. She looked pretty different from when either of them had last seen her. Her hair was blonde again, there was a little more weight on her face, and her piercing was gone - too hard to sell the image with it in. Though, she couldn't deny she was a little hurt that that was all it took for Sam, of all people, to fail to recognize her.

It was undoubtedly the context. They wouldn't expect to find her here, of all places. They must not know that she'd taken up hunting after her Uncle died. Hayley knew she could never fill his shoes, Bobby had been more to the community than a mere hunter, but she'd felt a sense of duty. Someone had to take up the slack he’d left with his passing, even if just a portion of it.

“Agent Carter,” Dean greeted her as he approached with a self-assured, ‘I belong here’ bow-legged strut. “What do we have here?” he asked, gesturing toward the covered corpse at their feet.

He was good; she had to give him that. Hayley wasn’t about to make things easy on him, though. Dean had played his share of pranks on her when they were kids, and besides, she was annoyed they still hadn’t recognized her, even this close up.

“Can we talk, Agents?” she asked pointedly, beckoning them over toward a police cruiser and, hopefully, out of earshot of the other officers.

Sam had an uneasy feeling as they followed her, it was written all over his face, and she pondered how he managed to convince real law enforcement. Or perhaps it was the knowing look in her eyes and something about the way she’d said ‘agents’ that caused the expression.

Dean asked, “Wanna tell me what this is about, Agent Carter?”

“Well, let’s see,” she said, a hard set to her features, “there are the mass murder charges, grave desecration, impersonating an officer of the law, credit card fraud...and that’s just in three states.”

Dean's stomach seemed to drop to his ankles with his thick swallow, but he quickly recovered. He gave his most charming smile and a long-suffering sigh. “Ah, I see what's going on here. You’re mistaking us for those two brothers who went on the murder spree a few years ago. Honestly, you’d think they’d give us different partners after the fifth or so time someone on an assignment called to turn us in,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, “but I swear the lieutenant just thinks it’s funny.”

Sam could see she wasn’t buying it and reached into his pocket. “Speaking of, you’re welcome to call our office if you’d like,” he said with a polite smile, pulling out a business card.

Hayley took the card dutifully and studied it. The number, she knew, belonged to Garth. The card was identical to the one she carried in her own pocket. She looked between the two, stern expression still in place, waiting for them to see her. Really see her.

Sam’s unease hadn’t lessened, but the cause was beginning to shift, and he looked at Agent Carter as steadily as she looked at him. She hadn’t believed a word, and it was obvious he could tell, but he was waiting for her to make a move before revealing anything else. His eyes creased at the corners, and they seemed to ask the question he wasn’t airing; ‘have we met before? You look so familiar…’

Dean, meanwhile, was evidently growing increasingly uncomfortable with the staring contest they were engaged in. He looked back and forth between the two of them, desperately trying to get Sam’s attention subtly. What the hell was Sam doing, acting so suspicious? If she were an actual Fed, they’d be in serious trouble. Even Dean’s flirting might not be able to salvage things if Sam didn’t get with the freakin’ program.

“Look, if we’re stepping on your toes,” Dean interjected, hands raised, “we can back off. Maybe there was some sort of mix-up at Headquarters.”

Hayley could see Dean was finally starting to sweat, and, satisfied, she decided to take pity on them. “Calm down, Winchester,” she said with a grin, slapping Dean playfully on the shoulder. “I’m busting your balls, idjit.”

Dean blinked at her. He looked at her as closely as Sam had been, and recognition dawned.

“Wow,” he said, a smile creeping across his face, “Hayley Singer. Goddamn.” He shook his head and looked her up and down. “You certainly grew up.”

Neither Sam nor Hayley failed to catch his suggestive tone, and Sam stepped in before Dean could say something worse. “That’s what happens when you don’t see someone for ten plus years, Dean,” he reminded him with an apologetic smile to Hayley.

The apology in his eyes was on his own behalf, now, instead of Dean’s, and she accepted it when she smiled and said, “Well, seeing as we’re all here, shall we work this one together, boys?”

Sam nodded without even a glance to Dean to get his thoughts on the matter. Now that he knew who she was, Sam was so happy to see her.

Destiny, fate, or coincidence intervened three times, and Hayley and the Winchester’s appeared at the same job; a ghoul, a salt and burn, and a vetala. The other six times, before the relationship dynamic changed again, Sam had explicitly asked for Hayley’s help.

The bunker was the base of operations. Hayley would meet the boys there, leaving her car in the garage before traveling together in the Impala. It saved on gas and parking, and of course, it meant Dean got to pick the music. Whenever they returned, if it were late or they’d driven for an extended period of time, Hayley would spend the night. No one likes to overstay their welcome, though, so Hayley always made sure to be up and gone by midday the following day.

Dean had been the instigator of the next important moment, as it had been his idea to ask Hayley to move into the bunker on a more permanent basis. He had thought about it once or twice while they’d worked together, and once he realized his brother had more than a professional interest in her, it made total sense to give Sam the best shot at happiness he could. Besides, Hayley was practically family, and Bobby would have wanted the boys looking out for her.

The morning was ticking away, and soon after breakfast, Hayley would leave the Men of Letters Bunker. So Sam was prolonging breakfast as much as he could. He’d taken his time making his smoothie while she had devoured a stack of pancakes and teased him for his ‘clean’ living.

“C’mon, Sam,” she coaxed, waving a forkful of pancake in his face from across the table, “I’ve never seen you eat something ‘naughty’,” she concluded with full-on air quotes. “I promise I make the best pancakes.”

A bold statement that Dean quickly backed up.

“She’s not lying, dude,” Dean chimed in on his way past the kitchen door. He’d already made a not-so-subtle point of leaving them alone, so Sam didn’t have an audience.

“Go on,” she begged, pouting, “for me.”

The pout was too cute to deny, not that he would have ever denied her anything. Sam feigned a sense of confidence to distract from the puddle of mush her pout made him into and grabbed her hand along with the fork. He imagined it, he must have, but it felt like a shock went through him at the touch of her hand, or maybe it was a static shock.

He guided the food to his mouth and unexpectedly hummed around the chunk of pancake; it really was good.

“See,” she said, sitting straighter, a proud smile smoothing out the pout. She leaned closer and lowered her voice, “don’t tell Dean, but they’re vegan pancakes, totally healthy.”

“Except the half-pint of syrup he drenches them in,” he chuckled, unable to stop staring at her proud smile.

Later, standing outside her room, he tried to find that same fake sense of confidence, but he was so nervous he thought he might throw up. He raised his hand, ready to knock, and while he took a deep breath to prepare, she pulled it open. A duffle bag slung over her shoulder, and a larger one she’d been holding fell to the floor as she stumbled back and yelped in surprise.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” said Sam, “I was gonna knock...” taking a step forward with his arms raised in an attempt to steady her before she fell, he tripped over the bag she’d dropped. Rather than save her, he managed to throw the whole two hundred and twenty-pound weight of his body directly at her. Effectively doing the opposite of what he’d intended and knocking her on her ass. And, in an effort not to land on top of her, he twisted his ankle and landed so hard on his shoulder he damn near dislocated it.

“Oh god, Sam, are you okay?”

Except wanting to die from the sheer embarrassment, he was fine, and as soon as he convinced her that he was, they both almost coughed up a lung from laughing.

There was no way he could possibly make any more of an ass of himself, and he still hadn’t explained his presence, so sitting right there on the floor, watching Hayley blot tears of laughter from her eyes, he asked, “Can we talk?”

Those anxiety-inducing words sobered her fast, and it hadn’t been his intention to sound so serious, but it was serious. He was about to change their entire relationship, and that wasn’t a decision he had taken lightly.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing I’m already sitting down,” she quipped, but it fell flat in her tone.

Sam took a deep breath. It shouldn’t have been as hard as it was, but at that moment, he knew it was because he felt something so strongly for her, and it scared him half to death.

In some ways, Hayley was like Dean. There was always an underlying itch to be on the road; staying put in one place too long sometimes felt like growing soft. For a moment doubt overtook him. What if what he was about to do wasn't as nice a gesture as he hoped it would be? What if she was more like Dean than he realized, and putting down roots wasn't a plan she had for her future?

“Dean and I have been talking, and well…” Nervousness got the better of him, and he had to laugh to clear the emotion away. “We, um, we like having you around, not just for hunts but here too, and we thought maybe you could stay?”

She looked at him for the longest time, so long that he thought maybe she’d hit her head when he’d knocked her down.

“Permanently,” he elaborated. “Make this your home, too?”

Luckily they were still on the floor because she threw herself so hard at him, arms looped around his neck, that she knocked him flat on his back.

The town was irrelevant, but the possession case had been a tough one for them all. A young girl couldn’t be saved, and the three hunters each walked away with bruises and a wound that required stitches. Once the blood had been cleaned off, and with fresh clothes on their backs, they all stalked off to the nearest bar to drown their sorrows the best way they knew how.

Dean found a target within fifteen minutes of entering the bar, and he left Sam and Hayley in the booth to catch his prey.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar scenario; they were predisposed to being drinking buddies. They often made a game of it, watching Dean work his magic and dubbing the words he exchanged with whichever pretty girl took his fancy.

But this particular night, the mood wasn’t right for games, and the quiet was born of reflection. What could they have done differently? How could they do better next time? What if they had tried this instead of that?

Hayley observed Sam across the table while he stared into a void and peeled the edge of the label from his beer bottle. His expressive eyes clouded with regret. He felt personally responsible for their failure.

“Can we talk?” Hayley asked with a heavy sigh.

She hadn’t asked because there was a particular subject she wanted to discuss; she simply didn’t want the silence of their thoughts to devour them. The question had the desired effect of pulling Sam from the toll of his memories.

He flashed a rueful smile, and the gesture transported her back to the hours before when he’d given her a similar one. He’d lain unconscious on the floor with Dean worrying over him, begging him to wake up. Hayley had been immobilized by panic, staring at Sam’s limp body and wondering if the force of the demon’s power throwing him into the wall had been the last his body could handle. When he’d finally come around, he’d given her the same smile.

The torment she wrestled with took control of her face and caused Sam’s brow to crease with concern. Forever the comforter, he slipped a hand over hers, squeezing gently to bring her back to the room.

“Hey,” he said softly. A single tear slipped from her left eye, and Sam rushed to switch sides and sit beside her. He thumbed it away before it traveled to her lip. “Hey, hey,” he lulled, “talk to me, what’s wrong?”

She hadn’t intended to discuss any heavy subjects, but at that moment, with Sam’s large body shielding her from the rest of the bar, his warm hands cupping her face to keep her focus solely on him, she decided it was time to speak a truth she’d been holding back.

“Today really scared me,” she began, “there was a second that I thought you were done for, and it…” She sighed the longest sigh and grimaced when she continued, “I don’t want to make an ass of myself here, but I can’t keep ignoring it either.”

“Ignore what?”

“This whole thing isn’t working for me anymore,” she admitted.

Sam forced himself to swallow the taste of bile, berating himself for not seeing it sooner. Hunting was a burden; it took its toll on everyone, and today had been the last Hayley could endure. He dropped his hands and twisted to face forward so she wouldn’t see the hurt and disappointment so clearly etched on his face.

She saw it regardless, and panic pinched her breath temporarily while she raced through her thoughts of Sam knowing where the conversation was heading and preparing himself to reject her. He had to have known how she felt, or so she thought. She flirted with him; she favored him over Dean when it came to working together, sharing a bed, or any other task that involved choosing a Winchester. So he had to know, right?

Sam had short-lived notions of there being something between them, something more than colleagues or friends, but he always talked himself down before he did anything about it. The disappointment he felt wasn’t directed at her; it was at himself that he hadn’t taken any of the million opportunities to tell her how he felt because he’d been afraid. Afraid of rejection, scared of giving her his heart and ultimately the control to break it. But now, any chance of her feeling the same or loving her and losing her was gone.

He reached for his bottle across the table, took a long drink to give himself a moment to figure out what to say. He contemplated telling her then that he felt something more than friendship for her, that he wanted to explore where that could go, but it wouldn’t have been fair of him, not when he assumed she was telling him she’d had enough. He didn’t want to potentially manipulate her into staying.

“Screw it!” she declared, and with a newfound blast of confidence, she used a not so gentle grip under his chin to turn his face to hers to better crush her mouth to his.

Sam had been so convinced she was telling him that she was leaving it took him a full fifteen seconds or so to register what was happening, and before he could react, she’d pulled back.

His expression was one of pure shock, as if someone had thrown ice-cold water in his face, and it evaporated the confidence Hayley had as if they were in the humidity of New Orleans at the height of summer.

“If that was totally out of line, just say the word, and I’mma pretend it never happened, and we can go back to being hunting and drinking buddies; just keeping each other company while Dean screws his way through all fifty states,” she rambled and raised her glass as if to toast. “Okay, great.” she clinked her bottle against his when he didn’t move to do the same, and she swallowed the remaining three quarters in loud breathless gulps.

“Not okay,” he finally managed to say.

“I’m sorry, Sam, I shouldn’t have…”

He didn’t allow her to finish the apology, following her lead; an overzealous forceful pinch of her chin turned her face to his so he could kiss her again. Hayley, more prepared than he had been, reacted instantly. She twisted her body to him, put her hand on his cheek, and relaxed against him. She tasted like beer, and her tongue was cold when it met Sam’s, but it didn’t matter because she also tasted like possibilities and happiness.

Life took the inevitable twists and turns, some good and some not so good but Sam and Hayley remained together. Chuck was eventually defeated, and life slowed down, so much so, Sam finally allowed himself to believe there was a future beyond apocalypses and evil. The possibilities were endless.

Especially so when they were surrounded by their family and friends celebrating the birth of Garth’s fourth child. Jody, Alex, Claire, and Donna had made the trip to the bunker to join the Fitzgeralds, Cas, Jack, Dean, Hayley, and Sam.

Sam watched the scene propped against the library door, a glass of eighty-year-old whiskey in hand, a content smile glued to his lips. Everyone was happy, and he’d never felt more at peace. Yet, he was increasingly frustrated.

He’d made three plans for his proposal, and each time something had gone wrong; Hayley got sick; only the flu nothing serious, but still plan one was out. Plan two; Baby broke down a few miles from their destination, and Dean had to rescue them, so plan two’s mood was ruined. Plan three; a vamp nest needed taking out, and Dean had been injured, almost fatally, so, until today, the focus had been on Dean’s recovery.

Hayley’s schemes were also ruined. The first plan had been ruined by a two-day storm that wreaked havoc on Lawrence. Her second had been thwarted by Sam inviting Dean and Cas to dinner with them. After that, she decided she didn’t need a plan; the right moment would present itself eventually. Like now.

Hayley walked toward Sam, a smile that matched his own on her lips, but there was a deeper meaning than pure happiness behind her eyes that made Sam wonder what she would ask. Before she could, he kissed her. He’d never been one for public displays of affection, but he didn’t care; her smile required a kiss, and he was loath to deny any of his urges when it came to her.

“Ew,” Dean called out, “get a room.”

They pulled apart laughing, and without a word uttered, they collectively flipped Dean off. His jesting smile beamed back at them, though it went unnoticed as the couple only had eyes for each other.

They stared at one another; love and admiration reflected back, and simultaneously much like the rude gesture toward Dean; they asked, “Can we talk?”

Another chuckle shared, and in an attempt to break the nervous tension he felt, Sam kissed her again. In anticipation of another request for them to ‘get a room’ from Dean, Sam decided that was probably the best location for their talk. He took her hand, and without question, she followed.

This was it.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for; there didn’t need to be fancy dinners or a meaningful location of fond memories shared. He just needed Hayley. And she had decided the same.

Ever the gentleman, he allowed her to enter the room first, and he followed after silently closing the door behind them.

While his back was turned, Hayley prepared herself. She thought she’d be anxious, but all she felt was excitement.

Shock took Sam’s breath when he turned back to face her. Hayley was in the middle of the room, on one knee, her earlier smile broader but tinged with a hint of nerves. In her hand, a small velvet box held out to him, and the light glinted off the polished platinum ring.

“Sam, will you marry me?” she asked.

“NO!” he yelled. Perhaps too aggressively, and her smile quickly fell. Sam rushed closer and dropped to his knee so close there was not a breath of air between them. “I was going to ask you! You can’t ask me,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the princess cut diamond ring that had been metaphorically cutting a hole in his pocket for months. “Hayley, will you marry me?”

It was a running joke for years to come about who asked who. Dean always insisted it didn’t matter, that he’d been the catalyst to start their relationship as he’d been the one to suggest she move into the bunker.

And so the argument went, round and round.

Nevertheless, it always ended the same; Hayley pinned beneath Sam squirming to get away while he tickled her breathless and then kissed the air back into her lungs before whoever was present - usually Dean - told them to get a room. They’d stare at one another for a beat and then ask, “Can we talk?” which was code for something that required very few words.

Super Supernatural: @denimbex1986 / @avanatural / @deanwanddamons / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @flamencodiva / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @petitgateau911 / @waywardbaby / @xoxabs88xox / @cockslut-padalecki / @stoneyggirl2

So Get This - Sam Winchester: @supernaturalgrandma / @samfreakingwinchester /

#SamWinchester #anyfandomfluffbingo #sam winchester #samwinchester #spn #fluff #samwinchesterfluff #DeanWinchester #Dean Winchester #deanwinchester #dean winchester #samwinchesterangst #samwinchesterappreciation #Supernatural #Supernatural Fanfic #slow burn #fanfic #spnfanfic #supernaturalfanfic

41 notes · View notes