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sailoryooons · 8 months

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Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences.

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end.

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night.

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it.

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property. Let’s try to play nice and show face.

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do.

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl.

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.”

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway.

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts.

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer.

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right.

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him.

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.”

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.”

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.”

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound.

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top.

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well.

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed.

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom.

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely.

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck.

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone.

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal.

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house.

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced.

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly.

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses.

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel.

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops.

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning.

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients.

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store.

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time.

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes.

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in.

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required.

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm.

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you.

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space.

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too.

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work.

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms.

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room.

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time.

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh.

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back.

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you.

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.”

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.”

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.”

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for.

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning.

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability.

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly.

So he does.

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly.

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you.

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds.

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees.

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no.

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs.

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead.

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it.

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to.

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.”

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.”

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.”

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.”

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair.

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out.

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.”

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful.

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough.

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?”

“Fuck yeah, Angel.”

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him.

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him.

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching.

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home.

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier.

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything.

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love.

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day.

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.”

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake.

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be.

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time.

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.”

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it.

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth.

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have.

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to.

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself.

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters.

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself.

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now.

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him.

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner.

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers.

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile.

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head.

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin.

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator.

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly.

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away.

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning.

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip.

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement.

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left.

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt.

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen.

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something.

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss.

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle.

Money. This man has money.

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately.

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either.

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.”

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder.

“I will fucking kill you.”

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast.

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.”

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.”

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen.

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life.

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is.

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.”

“Okay.”

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“See you soon.”

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat.

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood.

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin.

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe?

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi.

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.”

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting.

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead?

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated.

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again.

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost.

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm.

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have.

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage.

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it.

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live.

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple.

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off.

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried.

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined.

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety.

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Click. Squeeze. Bang.

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand.

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang.

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels.

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified.

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!”

“That’s it, keep talking to me.”

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!”

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths.

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?”

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place.

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather.

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off.

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun.

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you.

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home.

Home.

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare.

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now.

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only.

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense.

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this.

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling.

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.”

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching.

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk.

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs.

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle.

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him.

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver.

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw.

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good.

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good.

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you.

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking.

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.”

“Fuck.”

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little.

“Fuck yeah.”

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself.

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.”

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.”

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.”

“Mmm.”

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying.

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock.

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad.

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity.

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?”

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.”

“Shit shit shit shit.”

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it.

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin.

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest.

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.”

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #mafia yoongi #mafia bts #minors dni #minors do not interact #halis happy agust

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beansprean · 2 years

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@blakbonnet @saltpepperbeard Your post has come to fruition…this comic hurt my teeth with its sweetness!! I should apologize for how long it is but...I won't.

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Stede and Ed standing in an 80s grocery store. Ed, wearing a black tee shirt tucked into lightwash jeans, black boots, a light blue handkerchief in his back left pocket, and his hair in a high ponytail, is standing with an empty grocery cart with both hands on the handle and one foot up on the bottom basket. He glances from the empty cart and then to Stede, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Stede, wearing a retro-patterned teal and purple short sleeved button up tucked into pleated khaki slacks, brown leather loafers, and a gold watch, his hair swept back in a big feathered quiff, holds his hands up defensively with a nervous smile. He says, “Oh- Darling, no. No, no, I’m too big!”

2a. Ed begins to stalk towards Stede with a mischievous grin, arms out in a grabbing motion. Stede backs up, smile growing even as his eyes narrow in warning and his hands try to bat him away. “Ed.” he says shortly. 2b. Ed darts forward and grabs Stede around the waist, scooping him up over his shoulder. Stede bursts into laughter, face going red, and yells “Ed! Put me down, you’ll hurt yourself!” 2c. Ed walks back toward their cart with Stede flopped over his shoulder and sings, “Nonsense, love!” In the background, there is a young brown woman wearing a patterned jumpsuit with long dark feathered hair facing the shelves as she browses cereal. There is a baby over her shoulder wearing teal overalls who catches Stede’s eye as they pass and reaches out a chubby little hand to wave at him in solidarity. Stede waves back automatically, clearly embarrassed but unable to stop smiling.

3a. Ed half-falls into the cart with a punched-out “Oof!” as he flops Stede down into it butt-first, his face buried in Stede’s chest and Stede’s legs flying up around him. 3b. Ed lifts himself up with his arms braced on either side of Stede, nose-to-nose with his husband who has sat up in the cart with a silly grin, one leg thrown over the side. Ed continues the previous conversation with a soft smile, “It’s like holding a couple of grapes.” 3c. Ed closes the last inch between them to smack a kiss on the tip of Stede’s nose. Stede reddens and snorts out a laugh.

4. Close up on the woman in their aisle as she chooses a cereal called “Matey Puffs” featuring a white cartoon Blackbeard with a hook hand. She glances over in confusion at Ed and Stede as they zoom away, Stede tucked in the cart and Ed driving, both giggling uncontrollably. The baby continues to wave after them.

5. Text reading “Later…”

6a. Stede and Ed waiting in line at the checkout. Stede is still in the cart, knees pulled to his chest, now surrounded by piles of groceries including a bottle of L&P soda, a bag of shredded cheese, a head of romaine lettuce, a bottle of wine, a few packs of meat, a bag of apples, a bag of Twisties, a loaf of bread, a bag of Roshuns, several packs of spaghetti, and a few miscellaneous cartons and jars. Ed, one hand on the cart handle, suddenly smacks the heel of his other hand against his forehead with a “duh!” expression. He exclaims, “Oh, shit! We forgot the oranges!” Stede turns his head around shoot him an annoyed look and replies, “What?? That’s the whole reason we came!” 6b. Ed runs off in a cloud of dust, shouting behind him, “BRB, Baby! Kiss kiss!” Stede cranes his neck after him in panic, unable to move from his grocery prison, calling, “Wai- Ed! Ed!!” 6c. Stede turns back around, red faced, sweating with nerves, and now a middle aged man alone in a full grocery cart. In front of him in queue is a bald man resembling Black Pete in a white suit with the sleeves rolled up, pushing his own cart. Behind him are an older dark-skinned woman with short gray hair wearing a puff sleeve shirt, long pink skirt, and pearls, holding a full basket with both hands and a large Māori man resembling Fang in a pink polo shirt and pleated khakis with a bag of dog food under one arm. They both step forward automatically to fill Ed’s vacated space.

7a. The older woman leans forward toward Stede with a small smile, saying, “You and your husband are very sweet.” Stede cranes his neck around to smile at her nervously, replying, “Oh! Thank you…” 7b. The woman loosens one hand from her basket to place it on Stede’s cart, continuing, “Let me push you forward, the queue is moving.” Stede drops his chin to his chest in relief, breathing out a much more genuine “Thank you.”

8a. Text at the top reads “9 minutes later”; Stede has reached the front of the line. The employee, who resembles Izzy, is wearing a blue striped button up and red bow tie under a yellow apron and stands, one hand hovering over the register as he stares down silently at Stede. Stede, looking small and scared, barely able to peek over the edge of the counter, stares back sweatily with wide eyes and says, “Ummm…” 8b. The employee startles as Stede cracks his head back and screams at the top of his lungs, “Ed!! Darling, where are you?? We have a problem!!”

9a. Ed suddenly zooms into view holding a bag of oranges, sliding smoothly between Stede and the register with a grin and a wink. He says, “Never fear, my love! I’m here!” Stede smiles hugely at him, full of relief and love. Behind them, the Izzy-like employee just glares at them, looking extremely tired, revealing he is wearing a large anachronistic button that says “service with a smile”. Stede cries, “You came back!” Ed replies, “Never left.” Both their speech bubbles are filled with pink hearts. 9b. Text in parentheses at the top says “he really didn’t.” We now see Ed from earlier, already holding the bag of oranges, peeking out from behind a shelf with a warm expression. He giggles, one hand to his cheek, as he observes Stede’s predicament from afar. Offscreen, Stede is saying, “Oh- Louise, we’re moving again.” Louise, presumably the older woman behind him in line, responds, “I’ve got you!” Stede continues, “Haha, getting awfully close to the front, aren’t we… I wonder what’s taking Ed so long…” /end ID

#ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #modern ofmd #80s aesthetic #mlm #our flag means death #my art #fanart #image described #bob damrons handkerchief code may be required reading but there r lots of fun easter eggs #originally i was like hehe what if the baby was jim but i was like no then everyone would be way younger but #who cares baby jim

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fatecantstopme · 3 months

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Take Your Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: What happens after you lose the love of your life?

Warnings: character death, a lot of talk about death, grieving, childbirth, single parenting, cursing, use of pet names, mentions of smut/implied smut.

A/N: This is insanely long and some parts are painfully sad, but it's a beautiful story of love and family that persists even beyond the grave. There's a lot of POV switching between Dean and reader. I hope you love it as much as I do.

“The two of you are like rabbits,” Sam groaned. “I swear you could hear it outside the bunker.”

Dean laughed heartily. “It’s not my fault she’s so damn hot.”

You blushed and buried your face in your hands. “Sorry, Sammy. We’ll try to keep it down.”

“I’ve lost the ability to pretend I didn’t hear you two.”

You laughed. “What can I say? He’s good at what he does.”

“Ughhhh,” Sam groaned as he left the kitchen.

You leaned into Dean with a smile. “Maybe we should try to keep it down, for Sam’s sake.”

Dean seemed to contemplate it for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, babe. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve some enjoyment—celebration, even. We beat Chuck, Jack’s in charge, there seems to be less monsters running around…and somehow we’re still alive to see it.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.”

“Plus,” Dean leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “my wife is the sexiest woman on earth. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

You laughed warmly and playfully smacked his arm. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grinned. “But you love me.”

You smiled as you leaned up to kiss him. “Very much.”

**********

“It’s kinda nice to be on a regular old monster hunt,” Dean said with a smile.

“Is it weird that I’ve missed this?” you asked.

“Definitely not. I’ve missed it too,” Sam responded.

“Vampires,” Dean mumbled. “I do love killing vampires.”

You chuckled lightly and rolled your eyes.

The three of you grabbed your machetes and headed towards the barn. You knew this was where the vamps were bedding down, but you weren’t sure how many of them were there.

Dean shot you a grin before busting in the barn door, shocking several vampires into action. Dean let out a weird holler of excitement and dove into the fray. You and Sam exchanged glances before jumping in.

Everything was going well. It was a pretty easy hunt, to be honest. You’d just beheaded the last one when you heard Sam yell your name from behind you.

You could hear the terror in his voice and when you spun around, you came face to face with your greatest fear.

“Dean!” You screamed as you ran across the barn. You grabbed his face when you reached him, tears already streaming down both of your faces. “No…” you whispered.

He coughed and wheezed softly. You could see the piece of metal sticking out of his chest and you knew he was dying. You’d always known the life was dangerous—that any of you could die young, but things were finally good. You thought you’d actually get to grow old together.

Sam stood beside you, just as devastated as you were. “Dean, please…”

“It’s okay Sammy. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

You inhaled sharply, tears blurring your vision. “Please don’t go,” you begged. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so damn sorry,” he whispered. “But you’re gonna be okay—you’re gonna be fine.”

You shook your head rapidly.

“Yes you are, sweetheart. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re gonna mourn, but you’re gonna keep going. You’re not the kind of woman to ever give up, so don’t start now.”

You stared at him, letting his words wash over you, knowing they would be some of his last.

“Take care of each other,” Dean said to both of you.

“We will,” Sam responded, emotion clouding his voice.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

You whimpered softly before standing on your toes to kiss him gently. “I love you too, Dean. Always.”

He smiled, but you could see the light fading from his eyes. “One more thing, baby.”

“Yes?”

“‘Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it a while.’”

You let out a breathy chuckle. He would never admit it, but The Princess Bride was one of his favorite movies. He’d always loved that line in particular and he’d said it to you on your wedding day instead of “till death do us part”.

“Wait for me,” you whispered, caressing his cheek affectionately.

He reached out a hand and brushed the tears from your cheek. “Take your time,” he said so softly you almost didn’t hear.

You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see the moment he died—you couldn’t bear it. When his hand slipped from your face and you heard Sam let out a pained sob, you knew he was gone.

You finally looked up, and the tears began to fall in earnest. You’d never felt a pain like this before—not even when he’d died in the past. This time was different. This time was final. Dean was dead—and a large piece of your heart went with him.

**********

Dean’s POV:

I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to get my bearings. I was surprised by how bright it was--I was pretty certain it had been night only moments ago.

"Hey Dean," a familiar voice said from behind me.

I spun around with a smile on my face and immediately embraced the man in front of me. "Bobby!"

Bobby returned my hug. "It's good to see you, kid."

Seeing Bobby made me realize where I was and the smiled slipped from my face.

He patted me gently on the shoulder. "Yeah, it's tough at first."

"(Y/N/N) and Sammy..." I whispered. "I left them."

Bobby nodded sadly. "I know, kid, I know. It's gonna hurt for a while, but they're both tough people. They'll be okay."

Tears blurred my vision at the thought of my wife and little brother mourning my death. I hated the idea of leaving them all alone, especially (Y/N). I knew Sammy would be okay--he always was. But (Y/N)? I'd made her a promise--I promised her forever. Then I went and got myself killed...leaving her to put the pieces of her life back together--a life we were supposed to share.

"I'm worried about (Y/N/N)," I whispered. "I can't stand the idea of her being alone. And the not knowing how she is? That might kill me--figuratively, I guess."

"I know the feeling, but I do have some good news for you. Things are obviously different up here, thanks entirely to Jack."

Bobby gestured to a building off in the distance and I realized it was the Roadhouse.

"A lot of us hang out here together--Ellen, Jo, Ash, Charlie, Pamela," Bobby said. "Also, we now have a new option--the ability to check in on the people we left behind. It's how I knew you'd be coming here."

"Wait--I can check in on (Y/N)? And Sam? Like I can see them?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, anytime you want. The only thing is, time moves differently up here, so you'll probably only catch glimpses of their lives over time."

"I'll take anything at this point. How do I do it?"

"You just picture the person clearly in your mind and you'll be able to see and hear what's happening in their lives at that moment. Plus, if they call out to you--like a prayer--you'll hear them."

"So all I have to do is picture (Y/N/N) and I'll see her?"

Bobby nodded. "Just remember, you're not gonna see the moment you left...it's probably been a couple weeks at this point."

I nodded. "I wanna see her."

Bobby patted my shoulder again. "Take your time. I'll be in the Roadhouse. Come on in when you're done--I'm sure there's a few people who wanna see you."

"Thanks, Bobby."

I watched him walk away for a few moments before taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I pictured my wife's beautiful face in my mind with everything I had. Within moments, I was transported to a room I knew very well--our bedroom in the bunker.

(Y/N) was laying on our bed, wearing her favorite flannel of mine, and clutching a pillow close to her chest. I could tell she'd been crying for some time and it broke my heart.

There was a knock at the door and Sam's voice called out to her, asking if she was okay.

"I'm alright, Sammy," she answered softly.

"Do you want dinner?"

She sniffled softly. "I'm not really hungry, but thank you."

I heard Sam sigh quietly. "Okay, let me know if you change your mind."

I turned my attention back to (Y/N) just as she rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to do this without you," she whispered. "I thought we'd have more time."

I could feel the tears stinging my own eyes as I watched her cry softly.

"You promised me, Dean. You promised me forever," she whimpered. "I shouldn't be angry with you--it's not like you left me on purpose. But I can't help it, Dean. I'm so angry, and bitter, and heartbroken, and so...alone."

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she finished talking, her words cutting into me like a knife.

"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered, wishing like hell she could hear me. I just wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. I needed everything to be okay--I needed her to be okay.

She sighed quietly, bringing my attention back to her. "I just love you so much, Dean, and I--I miss you." She inhaled deeply before continuing. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know I'll be okay. It'll take some time, and I'll never stop missing you, but I will be okay."

I didn't realize how badly I'd needed to hear her say those words. My heart still ached, but her words helped heal it just a little. "I love you so much, beautiful--always."

She smiled up at the ceiling as if she'd heard me, but I knew that was impossible. She pressed her hand to her lips and blew a kiss towards the ceiling.

I smiled as I blew one back. She'd always blown me kisses when I was alive and I was glad she was continuing the habit.

I watched her curl back up on her side and sigh softly as she pulled the pillow close to her. I stayed just long enough for her to fall asleep before closing my eyes and returning to heaven.

**********

"SAM!" you screamed loudly. "SAMMY!"

You heard his loud footsteps echoing down the bunker hallway as he raced towards you. He appeared in your doorway slightly out of breath and more than a little terrified.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asked breathlessly.

Your hands were shaking as you held up the item in your hand.

Sam looked at it in confusion. As you watched, you saw the realization dawn on him and he gasped.

"Wait, (Y/N)--are you--are you pregnant?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks. "This is the third one I've taken...they all came up positive."

"Oh my god," Sam mumbled. "You're gonna have a baby."

You stared at him in mild terror. "I'm gonna have a baby," you confirmed.

Sam stared at you, clearly unsure what he should do. After a few moments, he grabbed you and held you tightly. You leaned into his hug, more grateful than ever to have him in your life.

"We should take you to see a doctor. I'm sure Eileen would come too."

You nodded against his chest, the tears on your cheeks wiping off on his shirt.

"We're gonna help you, (Y/N). You won't be going through this alone. I promise."

You stepped back and offered him a small smile. "Thank you, Sammy."

**********

Dean's POV:

It had been a couple days since I'd last checked on (Y/N), so I decided to take a little time to myself to pay her a visit.

I closed my eyes, envisioning (Y/N/N)'s face clearly in my mind. When I opened my eyes again, I saw (Y/N) sitting in the bunker library, reading a book.

Her back was to me, so I moved closer to see over her shoulder, trying to see what she was reading. I expected it to be one of the novels she was always reading, but this appeared to be one of those self-help books. She wasn't the type of person to read self-help books, so I was pretty surprised.

Before I could move around to see her from the front, Sam came into the room carrying an absurd amount of food. I looked at the food on one of the plates and even I had to admit it looked gross. Some sort of burger, but with what appeared to be greek yogurt on it...and mustard?

Sam sat the plate down in front of (Y/N) and she clapped her hands in delight. "Looks delicious!"

Sam looked at her with a slightly grossed-out look on his face and chuckled lightly. "I felt disgusting making it and I don't think I can watch you eat it," he teased.

She laughed and took a big bite of the sandwich, a groan of pleasure slipping from her lips. "Oh my god, that's so good."

Sam laughed heartily. "These pregnancy cravings are nasty."

She giggled, but I missed her response because I was too focused on what Sam had just said...pregnancy cravings? I looked at the book (Y/N) had sat on the table beside her and saw the title "Parenting 101".

I finally got a good look at my wife and noticed her round belly and I nearly passed out--if I could even pass out. I thought I was about to hyperventilate and my shock must have pushed me out of my trance--sending me straight back to heaven.

I nearly ran--okay, I did run--all the way to the Roadhouse, bursting in the door, out of breath and panicky.

"Hey easy there, kiddo," Ellen said as she stepped forward to check on me.

"(Y/N)'s pregnant," I practically yelled, shocking every person in the room.

Bobby looked up at me from the beer he was drinking with a look of shock on his face. Ellen had been patting my back, but now she was frozen in place.

"Is it--I mean, could it be yours?" Ellen asked gently.

"I--I don't know," I mumbled. "I have no idea how long I've been dead."

"Ash!" Ellen yelled.

The man in question appeared almost instantly. "Yo!"

"How long has Dean been dead?"

"Uhhh...hold on." Ash started typing away on his laptop. Two minutes later he answered, "A little over six months."

Bobby had gotten up from his seat and came over to help Ellen escort me to a chair. "Have a seat, son. Just breathe."

"Looks like you're gonna be a father," Ellen said gently.

"I'm--how--I--" words were not coming to me easily. I didn't know how to feel or what to think--all I knew was my wife was pregnant and I wasn't there to support her.

The more I thought about it, the sadder I became. I wouldn't be there for the birth, wouldn't get to hold (Y/N)'s hand through it all...I would never meet my child. My wife was all alone, doomed to the life of a single parent all because I was careless enough to die too soon.

"At least she has Sam," I whispered lowly.

Ellen was rubbing comforting circles on my back and Bobby squeezed my shoulder.

"I need to talk to her," I said suddenly. "How can I talk to her?"

Bobby shook his head. "You can't, Dean. I'm sorry, but that's just not possible."

Tears stung my eyes and I stood up abruptly. "I think I just need to be alone," I mumbled.

I could feel several pairs of eyes on my back as I left the Roadhouse and began to mindlessly wander, unsure of where I was going, but certain there was a destination.

**********

"You can do it, (Y/N). Just breathe," Sam said calmly.

"You tell me to breathe one more time, Winchester, and I'll kill you," you hissed.

Eileen looked up at Sam with a small smirk. "I think she's serious," she said.

Sam quickly signed 'I'm just trying to help.'

Eileen chuckled. 'Why don't you go get something to eat. I think that would be helpful.'

You let out a groan of pain and Sam's eyes widened. "Okay...I'll go do that."

Eileen shook her head and moved forward to grab your hand. "Men," she mumbled.

You laughed lightly before another contraction hit you. "Fuck," you groaned.

The nurse gently patted your leg. "You're doing great, sweetheart. Just keep breathing."

You squeezed the hell out of Eileen's hand, which got her attention. "Labor is hell--don't have kids."

She laughed. "I'm sure Sam will want one or two, especially after meeting his niece."

"Adopt," you ground out as another contraction hit you.

She gently brushed the hair out of your eyes, wiping the sweat off your forehead in the same motion.

You were beyond grateful for the two of them, even if you couldn't express it in that moment.

"Dean, you son of a bitch," you growled. "This is all your fault!"

You didn't mean it of course, it was more a heat of the moment thing. You missed him terribly and the pain of his absence had never been greater.

**********

Dean's POV:

In the middle of my walk, I heard someone scream my name. I paused, listening for any other sound.

"This is all your fault!"

I knew immediately it was (Y/N)'s voice and I went to her without a second thought.

I was shocked to find myself standing in a hospital room, my beautiful wife lying on the bed, clearly in pain. I stepped farther into the room when I heard (Y/N/N) whimper softly. Eileen was on the other side of the bed, squeezing her hand and gently brushing her hair back to calm her.

I was desperate to grab her hand, to tell her everything would be okay. She wasn't wrong--I was the one who got her pregnant, but I couldn't be there to help her through the birth of our child. It broke my heart to see her in such pain, especially knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

"Okay, sweetheart, it's time to push again," the nurse said softly.

(Y/N) let out a low grunt of pain as she leaned forward to push with all her strength. Eileen continued holding her hand and I watched her face tighten in discomfort as (Y/N) squeezed it.

Even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I started talking to her. "I'm right here, baby," I said softly. "You're doing so well, sweetheart."

Sam suddenly came into the room, looking concerned, but also a little terrified. "How you doin' (Y/N/N)?"

She shot daggers at my little brother and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Obviously not great, Samuel," she growled.

Eileen chuckled and gestured to Sam to go back out in the hallway. "We'll call you in when the baby comes."

Given the fact that Sam's face was a little green, I had to agree it was best for him to be out in the hall.

My attention was drawn back to (Y/N) when she let out a soft cry of pain.

"You're doing so great, (Y/N)," the nurse said. "Keep pushing, honey."

She continued pushing and even though she was clearly in a lot of pain and discomfort, I couldn't help but think she was so beautiful and powerful in that moment. I'd never seen a stronger woman in all my life.

"She's crowning!" the doctor called. "Give me a really good push."

(Y/N) groaned in pain as she pushed, cutting the circulation off in Eileen's hand with the strength of her squeeze.

"That's it, one more!"

(Y/N) let out one more agonized groan before collapsing back against the mattress. As soon as she did, I heard the loud crying of a newborn baby--our newborn baby.

"You did so well, honey," the nurse said. "So, so, well. I'll clean her up and let you hold her, okay?"

(Y/N) nodded with a weak smile, eyes meeting Eileen's moist ones. 'You did amazing,' she signed.

"Thank you," (Y/N) whispered.

The nurse brought a little bundle over and handed it to my wife. "Here's your mama."

(Y/N)'s arms wrapped around the sweet bundle, holding her close to her chest. "Hi, little one," she murmured sweetly. "Welcome to the world."

I leaned over to get a good view of my daughter. "Good job, mama," I whispered.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered.

I couldn't help but agree, she was perfect.

"What are we gonna name this sweet girl?" the nurse asked.

(Y/N) looked up with tearful eyes. "Charlie," she answered. "Her name is Charlie."

Tears filled my eyes, emotion overwhelming me. (Y/N) had loved Charlie has much as I did, so I shouldn't have been surprised that she'd want to honor her memory like this.

"That's a lovely name. Do you want to give little Charlie a middle name?"

At that moment, Sam came back in the room, a teary smile warming his features. He entered the room fully and came to the side of the bed to get a better view of his niece.

(Y/N) looked up at him and smiled. "MaryEllen," she answered. "Charlie MaryEllen Winchester."

Sam choked back tears as he leaned forward to place a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead and then to Charlie's. "I think that's a perfect name."

She smiled. "Me too."

The nurse smiled as she wrote down the name on the form in her hands. "Okay, sweetie, did you want to put a name down for the father?"

(Y/N)'s face dropped slowly and it made my heart ache. "Yes. His name was Dean--Dean Winchester."

The nurse nodded and jotted it down on her form. "I'll go file this and be back in a few minutes."

Tears were streaming down (Y/N)'s cheeks as she stared at our little girl. "I wish Dean was here," she mumbled.

Sam and Eileen exchanged sad looks. "I know, (Y/N/N)," Sam said gently. "So do I."

"I'm right here, baby," I whispered. "I'm always right here."

"She's perfect, isn't she?" (Y/N) said softly, changing the subject.

"She really is," Eileen confirmed.

I wanted to stay, but I couldn't bear to see my daughter and not hold her. It was making my chest ache in an unimaginable way.

I was about to make my exit when (Y/N) cast a glance to the ceiling and whispered, "I love you, Dean." She blew me a kiss and I couldn't help but smile.

"I love you both, baby. So damn much," I murmured before closing my eyes and returning to heaven.

**********

"Do babies ever sleep?" you grumbled as you stumbled into the kitchen after a very long and sleepless night.

Sam looked up from his coffee with a small smile. "She will eventually," he answered. When you shot him a glare, he slid his coffee towards you. "You need this more than I do."

Your expression softened. "Thanks." You took a sip, sighing gratefully as you sat at the table.

"Eileen with Charlie?"

You nodded. "She's so good with her."

Sam smiled. "I know."

You took a deep breath before saying something you'd been thinking for a while. "I think it's time for me to move out."

"What?" Sam asked in shock.

"The bunker's no place to raise a baby, Sam. I think it's time I find somewhere else to live."

He looked sad, but he nodded his head in understanding. "As much as I hate for you to leave, I understand why you need to."

You smiled tearfully. "Everywhere I look, I see Dean. His memory is infused in these walls and I love it, but it hurts--it hurts in a way I can't explain. Charlie and I need a fresh start--a real home."

Sam got up and gave you a warm hug. "Just don't go too far, okay? We need you both in our lives."

"I actually talked to Donna last week...she asked me to move in with her."

"That would be great! I'd feel better if you weren't alone, so I love the idea of you staying with Donna."

"It would just be for a little while, until I figure out what we should do for our future."

"You know I'll support you, (Y/N), in whatever you choose to do."

"I know, Sammy. You're the best uncle Charlie could ever have."

**********

Dean's POV:

When I arrived back in heaven, I found myself in a place I didn't recognize. I guess I'd kept walking mindlessly while I was checking in on (Y/N)...if that's even possible.

"Hello Dean," a familiar voice said behind me.

I turned around in surprise. "Jack?"

Jack smiled at me. "It's good to see you, Dean."

I returned the smile. "It's good to see you too."

"I heard you wanted to talk to me."

"I...I did?"

"Rather, you wanted to talk to (Y/N), which is something you would need to discuss with me."

"Bobby said it's not possible."

"He's correct. That's not something that has ever been done, but I suppose this is a special circumstance."

"It is?"

"You've saved the world selflessly so many times it's truly hard to keep track. Both (Y/N) and your brother have done so as well. As such, I believe you are owed something in return."

"I thought my reward was getting into heaven."

Jack smiled. "Perhaps initially, but this would be a reward specifically from me."

"Are you saying I could talk to (Y/N)? I mean, really talk to her?"

Jack nodded. "It would be a one-time thing, but it would allow you to properly say goodbye to her--and to Sam. Plus, I think you deserve the opportunity to meet your daughter."

"How long would I have?"

"I can give you an hour."

I nodded eagerly. "Please."

Jack smiled and reached out his hand, putting two fingers to my forehead.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a very familiar place. I looked around the bedroom (Y/N) and I had shared in the years since we'd discovered the bunker and I couldn't help but smile.

(Y/N) was curled up on the bed, reading a book, and she hadn't noticed me yet. I cleared my throat, getting her attention, and nearly ended up with a knife embedded in my chest as she threw it across the room with shocking accuracy.

"Woah! Baby, take it easy! It's me!"

She grabbed another knife from the bedside table and held it out in front of her. "Who the hell are you?" she growled.

"It's me, sweetheart."

"That's impossible. We burned your body."

"I know you did--listen, baby, I don't have much time. Jack sent me."

She paused, knife lowering slightly. "Jack sent you?"

I nodded. "Run whatever tests you need, babe, but it's me. It's really me."

She took a step towards me, then moved with surprising speed, tossing holy water at my face and pressing the silver knife against my skin.

"Dean?" she whimpered softly, dropping the knife to the floor.

"It's me, beautiful."

She said my name again before slamming her lips against mine in a hungry kiss. I kissed her back and my arms wrapped around her to pull her closer. I couldn't even express how much I'd missed this feeling.

When she broke the kiss, I saw tears in her eyes and I knew the look on her face was reflected on mine.

"I missed you so much," she whispered.

"I missed you too."

"How is this possible?"

"Jack sent me down here to say a proper goodbye--he said I deserved it."

She smiled and caressed my face. "How long do we have?"

"He gave me an hour."

She nodded. "Then we have no time to waste."

She pulled me even closer to her, kissing me with more passion than before. I knew what she wanted by the way she held me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it just as much.

I pulled her down onto the bed with me, ridding both of us of our clothes as quickly as possible. I held her close to me as we made love, not wanting to forget a single moment.

She whispered my name against my skin as she came around me, repeating the sound as she came down from her high. She held me tightly as I found my release, my teeth nipping at her pulse point to stay quiet.

We laid there quietly in each other's arms for a few minutes, but we both knew we didn't have a lot of time. I sighed softly as I dragged myself out of the bed to grab a washcloth to clean her up before we tugged our clothes back on.

Suddenly, (Y/N) seemed to realize something and yelled, "Oh my god! Oh my god, you don't know."

"Know what, sweetheart?"

"I--you--we...do you wanna meet your daughter?" she whispered.

I smiled warmly. "Little Charlie? I'd love to meet her."

Surprise lit up her pretty face. "You--you know?"

"Another gift from Jack--everyone in heaven is able to check in on the people they love down here. So I've been keeping an eye on you and Sam."

Tears filled her eyes again, and she couldn't formulate a verbal response. Instead she wrapped me in another hug and placed a soft kiss to my lips.

"I hear you when you talk to me too, ya know."

"You do?"

"I do. Anytime you call out to me, I can hear it."

She smiled warmly. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Dean."

"I can tell you it makes me incredibly happy."

She took a deep breath and shook her head, as if to shake off the intense emotions she was feeling. She turned away from me, walking over to the crib behind her. She reached in and scooped up our daughter before walking over to me.

"Do you wanna hold her, baby?"

I nodded, emotion clouding my vision. "I'd love to."

She slipped Charlie into my arms and I fell in love instantly. I didn't know I could feel this way about someone. I held my baby girl close to my chest and stared at her beautiful, peaceful sleeping face.

"She's so perfect, (Y/N/N)."

"She really is," she whispered as she leaned against my shoulder. "I'm so happy to get to have this moment with you."

I looked over at her with a soft smile. "Me too, sweetheart."

Charlie opened her eyes at the sound of our voices and made a cute little cooing sound that warmed my heart instantly. She reached one of her little hands up towards my face and I moved my hand towards her. She wrapped her fingers around one of mine and cooed again.

"Hi, princess," I whispered. "Aren't you just the most beautiful girl?"

(Y/N/N) chuckled softly and kissed my shoulder.

"You're gonna look just like your mama. I can tell. Hopefully you get her brain too."

"And your daddy's bravery and loyalty."

I smiled at her and she returned my expression. "Oh and her name? Perfect."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, baby. I love it."

"I wanted to honor your best friend and the two women who helped make you the incredible man you are."

I leaned down to her and kissed her again. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Dean."

We spent several more minutes in silence together, just looking at our beautiful baby--the baby we created together.

"We should go wake Sam," (Y/N) said softly.

"He'd kill me if I didn't see him too."

"He might kill me too," she teased.

She went to the door and gestured for me to follow. I followed her down the hall to Sam's room and waited as she knocked.

"(Y/N/N)? You okay?" Sam asked as he opened the door.

"I have a surprise." She stepped to the side to allow me to come into the doorway.

Sam's jaw dropped in shock. (Y/N) reached out and pulled Charlie from my arms and addressed Sam. "It's really him, Sammy."

"Dean?"

I nodded and my little brother practically tackled me in a hug.

(Y/N) smiled at the scene in front of her. She'd never expected to get another chance to say goodbye to me and she knew Sam needed this as much as she did.

"How are you here?" Sam asked as he finally let me go.

"A little favor from Jack--just for an hour. I'm here to say goodbye properly and to meet my baby girl."

Sam seemed to remember (Y/N) and Charlie's presence and he turned his attention to them. "I don't know what to say."

"I don't think any of us do," she said gently.

"That's not entirely accurate," I said softly. "I'd been thinking about what I would say if I could talk to you both."

I turned my attention to Sam first. "Sammy, I just want you to be happy. I want you to live a good, full life--the kind of life you always dreamed of. You deserve to be happy and I really couldn't ask for anything more than that."

As I finished addressing Sam, I heard Jack's voice from behind me. "Dean? It's time."

I turned to him and pleaded softly, "Just a couple more minutes to say goodbye to (Y/N)...please."

Jack nodded and took a step back to allow me to finish.

"Dean?" (Y/N) whispered.

"Your turn," I said gently as I reached for Charlie, pulling her into my arms with a smile. "Now you better be a good girl, you hear me? You treat your mama with honor and respect. You have no idea how lucky you are to have her as your mother, but I hope someday you realize it...and I hope you know just how much I love you. I'll always watch over you, little one. I promise." I placed a gentle kiss to her little forehead and she stirred happily. "Sammy, can you hold your niece for me?"

Sam nodded and took Charlie from my arms, too emotional to say anything else. He just clapped me on the shoulder and nodded--it was all I needed to understand what he couldn't say.

"Your turn, baby," I whispered as I took a step towards my wife.

"I'm not ready," she whimpered.

"Me neither, sweetheart, but here it goes." I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close to me. She looked up at me with teary eyes and I took a deep breath before continuing. "You are the light of my life and I am so honored to have been loved by you all these years. I would do anything to be able to stay with you, but we both know that's not in the cards for us. That doesn't mean I won't be with you...I'll always be with you, sweetheart, even if it's only in your memories and your heart."

She sniffled and tried to smile a little. I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before continuing.

"I want you to keep living, (Y/N). I need you to keep going--to fight for the life you and our daughter deserve. I'm so proud of everything you and I have accomplished together and I can't wait to see what amazing things you do with the rest of your life. I love you, baby, and I'll never stop."

She closed her eyes and nodded, tears slipping past her lids. She opened them back up and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine. "I'll love you forever, Dean Winchester," she whispered against my lips.

I kissed her deeply, pouring everything I had into the kiss. I needed her to know exactly how much I loved her and how badly I would miss her.

After what felt like both eternity and not nearly long enough, we separated. "I've gotta go, beautiful," I whispered.

"I know," she whispered back.

I kissed her lips again, then her forehead, before pulling away from her. I smiled at my brother, who returned the expression in kind. I touched my daughter's cheek and turned away before I lost the nerve to walk to Jack's side.

"Jack?" (Y/N) called.

Jack's attention went to her and he smiled gently.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, (Y/N)."

"Keep him out of trouble," she said lightly with a small smile.

Jack chuckled softly. "I don't think even I can do that."

I turned back to look at my family one last time and I couldn't help but go back to give (Y/N) one last kiss. "Goodbye my love," I murmured.

"I'll see you later, Dean," she said gently. "This isn't forever."

I held her close and kissed the top of her head. "Take your time, baby. Take your time."

I pulled away from her and walked away, refusing to look back--knowing if I did, it would break my heart. I looked at Jack and said softly, "I'm ready."

He nodded and touched my forehead just as he had before. When I opened my eyes again, I couldn't help but smile as I stood outside of the Roadhouse. I knew I would never be whole as long as (Y/N) and I were apart, but I felt so much better knowing she was safe, happy, and loved...that she would never give up, that she would keep living.

**********

Almost three years had passed since you'd said goodbye to Dean. It had been an eventful time--and a deeply emotional three years. You couldn't begin to express how much you missed him, but it comforted you to know he was okay and could check in on you whenever he liked.

You'd moved into Donna's house and you would be forever grateful for her compassion, kindness, and friendship--and for her help with Charlie. Raising a child on your own wasn't easy, but you were blessed with a chosen family who would never let you down.

On this particular night, you were curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling as you so often did. You spoke to Dean, telling him how much you missed him and updating him on Charlie's life.

"I can't believe she's already three," you murmured. "She has your eyes, you know--the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen."

You sighed. "There are moments...moments when she looks up at me and I swear I'm looking into your eyes. I just have this feeling she's going to be so much like you, even if she looks more like me."

You chuckled before continuing. "I hope she's strong and brave like you, and also kind and loyal like you. I hope she loves as passionately as you did and I hope she never has to wonder her worth--or how much we love her."

You'd just finished speaking when you heard a soft whimper at your door a second before it opened. Charlie stepped through it, eyes teary.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?"

"I had a bad dream," she whispered.

You pulled the blankets back and invited her into your bed. The little girl curled up against you with her head on your shoulder. You rubbed her back soothingly and asked her what she'd dreamed about.

"A monster," she whispered fearfully.

**********

Dean's POV:

I'd been listening to (Y/N) talk to me when Charlie suddenly appeared in the room, telling her mother she'd had a nightmare. I watched as (Y/N) invited her to come sleep in her bed and ask her what she'd dreamed about.

"A monster," she'd whispered.

"A monster?" (Y/N) asked. "What kind of monster, baby?"

"He was big and hairy and he had claws and red eyes and he was really scary," Charlie rambled. "He came out of my closet and tried to hurt me."

I watched (Y/N) pull her a little closer, holding her tighter than before. She kissed the top of Charlie's head and promised her she was safe.

"No monster is going to hurt you, little one," she reassured our daughter. "Do you know why?"

Charlie looked up at her, bright green eyes filled with fear as she shook her head.

(Y/N) smiled at her warmly. "Because you're a Winchester. And do you know what monsters fear the most, sweetheart?"

Charlie again shook her head.

"Winchesters," (Y/N) whispered. "Your daddy and your Uncle Sammy made sure of that. No monster would dare try to hurt you."

"Really?" she asked in a small voice.

"Really," (Y/N) confirmed. "Besides, I'm here to protect you and so is your Aunt Donna. I will always keep you safe, Charlie. Always."

Charlie seemed pleased by this, a little smile appearing on her face. "You promise?"

(Y/N) smiled and kissed her on the head. "I promise, little one."

Charlie nestled in closer to her mother and sighed contentedly. (Y/N) stroked her hair and began to sing softly, the sound more soothing than anything she'd said thus far.

I watched my beautiful wife comforting our daughter in a way my father had never comforted us when we were afraid. (Y/N) made Charlie feel safe and protected and I knew she would defend her with her life--just as I would have done.

I stayed long enough to hear (Y/N) sing all the words to 'Let It Be', her favorite Beatles song. It reminded me of when I was young and my mother sang her favorite, 'Hey Jude'.

I wished I was there for them both--to comfort and protect the way a father and a husband should. But I knew the people I had left behind would always be there for my girls, and that had to be enough.

By the time (Y/N) finished singing, Charlie had fallen asleep. She looked so peaceful it warmed my heart. (Y/N) smiled up at the ceiling and blew a kiss my way--her way of closing the conversation.

I returned to heaven, pleased with the knowledge the people I loved most were safe and happy. I couldn't ask for anything more.

**********

"Charlie MaryEllen Winchester!" you yelled as your daughter ran across the backyard of Sam and Eileen's house.

You heard her contagious giggle and you shook your head. "This child..." you mumbled as Sam came up beside you.

"She's a lot like her dad."

"So is yours," you teased as you nodded towards little Dean as he chased Charlie throughout the yard.

"I feel like naming him after Dean should have been a warning."

You laughed. "He's got great parents, so I wouldn't worry about him."

Sam slung an arm around you and tugged you into his side. "Charlie's got a pretty great mom too."

You smiled up at him and laid your head against him. "I can't believe she's six."

"Neither can I," Sam admitted. "And Dean's three? When the hell did that happen?"

"No idea."

"Kids!" Eileen called from the doorway. "Dinner!" The kids ran into the house and Eileen gestured at the two of you. "That means you too!"

You laughed. "How does she put up with us?"

"She's a saint."

"Amen."

After dinner, the five of you gathered in the living room to play board games. Halfway through a game of Monopoly, Charlie looked up at you and asked for a story.

"You always tell the best stories, mama."

You smiled. "Okay, munchkin. What kind of story do you want?"

"Can you tell one about daddy?"

Emotion clouded your face for a moment before you smiled at your daughter again. You looked into her beautiful green eyes and hummed softly. "I think I can come up with something."

"So does that mean we're done with Monopoly?" Sam asked hopefully.

"I think so," you chuckled.

"Thank god." He turned to little Dean. "Auntie (Y/N) is gonna tell a story about your Uncle Dean."

"Uncie Dean!" he squealed happily.

You laughed warmly and gestured for both kids to come sit in front of you. You closed your eyes for a moment, mentally calling out to your husband in the hopes he would check in and see this moment.

"How 'bout the time daddy gave me an impromptu birthday party?"

Sam laughed loudly. "I love that story."

You smiled. "Me too." Your expression changed as you reminisced, but the warmth never left your eyes.

"It was my 25th birthday and your daddy wanted to celebrate what he deemed was a big milestone..."

**********

Dean's POV:

I heard (Y/N) call my name, so I told Charlie, Jo, and Pamela that I had to forfeit our game of pool. "It's (Y/N/N)," I said with a shrug.

"Awww," all three of them said in a teasing tone.

I waved them off as I went outside to visit my wife. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the whole family sitting in Sam and Eileen's living room.

My daughter and my nephew were sitting on the floor watching (Y/N) with wide eyes. Even Sam and Eileen were paying close attention. (Y/N) appeared to be telling some kind of story and she was signing it as well to make sure Eileen could keep up.

I entered the room fully and heard (Y/N) telling a story--a story about me.

"We weren't exactly big on celebrating birthdays in our line of work, but Dean got it into his head that today was important and needed to be celebrated. I have no idea what the heck he was thinking, since we were living out of motels at the time, but he decided he wanted to have a birthday party for me."

"He didn't say a word to me about it," she continued, "but he did tell his brother." She threw a pointed look in Sam's direction and he shrugged innocently. "We had just started dating...I think it had only been a few months, actually."

"It was six months," Sam cut in at the same time I whispered, "Six."

(Y/N) laughed. "Okay, six months. Anyway, we didn't have any cases on the horizon--no where else we needed to be, so your father thought it would be a good idea to have a celebration. He bought a cake, balloons, streamers--the whole nine yards."

"He sent the two of us out to pick up dinner so he could decorate the little motel room," Sam added.

"When we returned, the entire room was covered in decorations and he was standing in the middle of the room holding a bundle of lilies--my favorite flower."

She sighed happily at the memory and I had a feeling she could picture it as well as I could.

"He even said 'surprise!' when we came into the room. I remember it being a really heartwarming moment for me. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd celebrated a birthday and here was this man I'd only been with for a short time going all out to celebrate me."

"Your's was the only birthday I can remember him making a fuss over," Sam commented. "That's when I knew how much he cared about you."

She chuckled lightly. "Oddly enough, I still wasn't sure why he'd picked me, and I had no clue how deeply he cared for me...but I can pinpoint the exact moment I knew I loved him."

Both kids leaned forward, especially Charlie, who seemed to be hanging on to her mother's every word. Even Sam looked like he was unaware of this part of the story.

"We'd had dinner, and Dean forced Sam to sing me happy birthday--which was hilarious, I might add--and then he brought out the cake. It wasn't a store-bought cake like I'd expected. It was a homemade cake--yellow cake with chocolate icing, my absolute favorite. I was beyond shocked, especially since we didn't have an oven."

She grinned as she continued. "When I asked him where he got it, he admitted that the day before he'd gone to the store to get the supplies he needed and then he uh--well, he broke into a bakery to use their oven to bake me a cake for my birthday. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me...and silly as it might sound, that was the exact moment I knew I was in love with him."

"Daddy broke into a bakery?" Charlie asked.

(Y/N) laughed. "Yes, he did, but it was a special circumstance. Don't commit crimes, kids."

Sam laughed and I could tell he was thinking about all the illegal shit we'd done in our lives--all kinds of things we wouldn't want either of our children to do.

"I want someone to break into a bakery to make me a cake," my daughter mumbled.

All the adults in the room laughed, myself included.

"Baby, I'd break into a bakery for you any day," (Y/N) teased warmly. She reached out and scooped Charlie up and pulled her onto her lap. She squeezed her tightly before tickling her stomach lightly to emphasize her words.

I watched the sweet moment for a little while longer before the ache of not being with them became unbearable. I blew my wife a kiss I knew she couldn't see and one for my daughter as well. "I love you both," I whispered before returning to my rightful place.

**********

"Moooooom!" Charlie moaned. "It's Sunday! You can't do things on Sunday."

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "You wouldn't have to do anything today if you'd done your homework yesterday, like I told you to."

She grumbled and sighed. "I hate homework."

"You sound like your dad," you teased lightly.

Charlie seemed to brighten at the comment, as she often did when she was compared to her dad. "Can't we do our Sunday dance party first?" she pleaded.

You sighed, giving her a look you'd often used on Dean. It clearly said 'You aggravate the hell out of me, but I love you endlessly'. Charlie knew what it meant as well as Dean had, so she knew she'd won.

"Fine," you mumbled, throwing your hands up.

"I'll pick the first song!" Charlie yelled as she jumped out of her chair and ran towards the stereo.

You'd bought an old stereo that could play cassette tapes as a kind of homage to Dean. After all, you had all of the albums he'd loved on cassette.

"This one!" Charlie exclaimed, pressing play on the machine.

The intro to 'You Shook Me All Night Long' by AC/DC started playing and you couldn't help but laugh. It was probably your fault she loved classic rock so much, but she really seemed to thrive on it the same way Dean had.

You watched your daughter start dancing around the living room to one of her favorite songs. At nine years old, she had no idea what the song was really about--but she sang those lyrics with all her might.

She grabbed your hand and dragged you into the dance with her. The two of you danced around the living room, singing along to song after song until you were both out of breath.

You'd started 'Sunday Dance Party' back when Charlie was just a baby. You'd dance around with her in your arms, singing along to songs that spoke to your soul--and songs Dean had loved with all his heart. The tradition had continued on for nine years now--and you hoped it would never end.

"Okay," you gasped breathlessly as the last song came to an end. "How 'bout a slower song to wind down?

Charlie nodded her agreement and started digging through the albums. "Mom, where's the Bob Seger one?"

Your heart clenched for a moment, remembering how you'd taken the album to your room to listen to it when you were having a particularly rough night. "One sec, baby. Let me grab it."

You went to your room and retrieved the tape, delivering it to your daughter who looked confused.

"Why was it in your room?"

"I wanted to listen to it earlier this week. It's--well it's a special album."

Charlie looked at you quizzically.

"It was one of your dad's favorites. He always said Bob Seger was the greatest lyricist of all time..." You closed your eyes, picturing Dean's face as he sang along to 'Night Moves'. "I can still hear him singing along."

Charlie looked sad and she reached out to grab your hand. "Do you wanna listen to someone else?"

You smiled and wiped the stray tear that had fallen on your cheek. "No, baby. Pick a Bob Seger song."

Charlie gave you a lopsided smile that so resembled one of Dean's and your heart tightened. She selected a song and to your surprise, Dean's favorite Bob Seger song started to play.

"Night Moves," you whispered.

"I really like this one," Charlie admitted.

You took her hands and started to sway to the music. "It was your dad's favorite."

Charlie beamed at that--clearly pleased with the correlation. It was another song she knew every word to, but had no idea what it was about. It made you smile, hearing her sing along.

When the song came to an end, Charlie looked up at you. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"What was dad's all-time favorite song?"

You exhaled slowly as you thought about it. "He had two--'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blue'."

"Led Zeppelin."

You grinned. "Very good. Your dad would be proud."

She smiled. "What's yours?"

Your expression changed, the smile falling from your face. "If you'd asked me before I met your dad, my answer would have been different. But now? It's an REO Speedwagon song from the '80s. It's called 'Can't Fight This Feeling'."

"I...I don't think I know that one."

"That's probably because I haven't played it in a very long time--you were probably four the last time I listened to it."

"Why?"

"It was too hard to listen to it," you admitted. "The night Dean--your dad--asked me out, we went to a karaoke bar. He decided he wanted to sing a song and he chose 'Can't Fight This Feeling'. He dedicated it to me and it became our song. When he asked me to marry him, that song was playing in the background and it was the song we danced to at our wedding."

"So it reminds you of dad."

You nodded. "More than any other song ever could."

"Could we...could we listen to it?" she asked softly. A pained expression crossed your face and she immediately backtracked. "We don't have to."

"No, no, it's okay. We can listen to it. It's probably way past time I listen to it again."

You went into your room and dug out the old REO Speedwagon album, bringing it out to the living room and placing it in the cassette player. You pressed play and as the intro started, your chest tightened again.

Charlie listened intently as the song played and you swayed along to it, the lyrics slipping from your lips softly. For a moment, you swore you could feel Dean standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you, swaying with you. You closed your eyes and heard his voice in your mind, singing softly just for you to hear.

**********

"What am I supposed to do with her?" you grumbled, head in your hands as you sat across the table from Jody.

Your friend laughed softly. "She's a teenager now, (Y/N). She's probably gonna be a bit of a pain in the ass for a while."

You groaned. "You raised teenage girls. How did you do it?"

Jody smiled. "It wasn't easy, let me tell you, but my girls are good girls now and I'm thankful for it. It's probably gonna be a little harder for you, though--Charlie takes after her father in a lot of ways."

"Oh you mean like his stubborn, pig-headedness? Or his sarcasm and biting humor?"

Jody laughed. "Yeah all of that is true--but she also takes after him in a lot of the good ways too. She's just as deeply emotional as him, but she doesn't know how to express it or understand it yet."

You sighed. "You're not wrong. Dean never really learned how to express it, but he didn't exactly have a normal childhood. I'm just hoping I can help her--that is if I don't kill her for mouthing off all the damn time."

**********

Dean's POV:

I was surprised to see (Y/N) sitting at Jody's dining table, the older woman sitting across from her. (Y/N) looked stressed and I felt the strong urge to comfort her, even though I knew I couldn't.

"You're not gonna kill her," Jody assured my wife.

"I just might if she tells me I'm ruining her life one more time."

"Uh-oh. I've heard that one before. What's she think you're doing?"

"I told her she can't hunt."

"Well yeah, she's 13."

(Y/N) shook her head. "Ever. I told her she could never hunt."

Jody looked sad, but unsurprised. "Ahh..and she didn't take that well."

"No," (Y/N) said firmly. "No, she did not."

I was more than a little surprised (Y/N) had told Charlie she couldn't hunt. I mean, I didn't want her to hunt either, but it wasn't like (Y/N) to try and make life decisions for someone else.

"Did you tell her why?" Jody asked.

"I tried, but she was too angry to hear me," (Y/N) whispered. "I can't lose her, Jody--she's all I have."

Jody reached out and squeezed her hand. "She's not all you have, honey, but I get what you're saying. She's your daughter and you don't want that life for her."

"She's all I have left of Dean," she whispered so softly, Jody had to lean in to hear her.

"Oh honey," Jody said gently as she got up to give my wife a hug. She cried into Jody's shoulder and I suddenly felt like I was intruding on a very private moment I wasn't meant to see. I was about to go back to heaven when I heard (Y/N) speak again.

"Do you think I should tell her everything?"

Jody sighed as she thought about it. "Do you think she's ready to know the truth?"

"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "But I can't help but feel that if she only knew, she wouldn't want that life for herself...and maybe she would understand why I don't either."

I wasn't entirely sure what (Y/N) was referring to. I assumed she meant the general horror that was our lives--and all the pain and loss that went with it.

"Talk to Sam," Jody suggested. "See what he thinks."

(Y/N) nodded her agreement and I decided to stay with her until she spoke to Sam...I had a feeling I would want to know what happened next.

**********

"Hey Sammy," you said softly as he opened the door.

"Here to get Charlie?" he asked.

You nodded, but grabbed his arm to keep him from turning around to get her. "I...I wanted to talk to you first."

"Sure, (Y/N/N). You okay?"

You shook your head. "Did she mention how much she hates me?"

Sam sighed and guided you to his office, just off the front door. "She mentioned something about it, yeah."

"I told her she couldn't be a hunter."

"I'm surprised she'd even want to be, given how much death and pain it caused all of us."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Sam raised his eyebrows, but remained quiet, waiting for you to continue.

"I didn't tell her the whole story," you admitted. "About Dean's death."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't want her to know how awful it really was, so I told her he died instantly--painlessly."

Sam sighed softly. "(Y/N)..."

"I know! I know...I shouldn't have lied to her. But the truth is so much worse and I didn't want those images in her mind. I didn't want her to know how he suffered, how we watched him die knowing we couldn't save him."

A soft gasp behind you alerted you to the presence of another person. You spun around just in time to see your daughter peeking around the corner, a look of horror on her face. As soon as you made eye contact, Charlie raced away from you, running up the stairs and locking herself in the guest bedroom.

"Charlie!" you called as you ran after her, Sam close on your heels.

You knocked on the door and begged her to open it--to let you explain, but she refused.

"Baby, please just open the door," you begged.

Sam touched your arm and gestured something you didn't quite understand. He repeated the gesture and a look of comprehension spread across your face. You nodded and he left quickly to grab what he needed.

When he returned, he had his lock picking tools in his hand and he began to pick the bedroom door lock. When it clicked, signaling it was now unlocked, he stepped back and allowed you to enter.

**********

Dean's POV:

I was shocked by the events that had led to this moment, but at the same time, I didn't really blame my wife for lying to Charlie. In all honesty, I had done the same thing about a million times in my life--all under the guise of protection.

As (Y/N) stepped into the room, I followed her, eyes darting around the space, trying to find my daughter. I finally noticed her, curled up on the floor on the other side of the bed, back against the wall and knees pulled up to her chest.

(Y/N) clearly saw her too because she made her way over there, dropping to her knees in front of Charlie. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she whispered.

"You lied to me," Charlie seethed.

I saw (Y/N)'s eyes flutter closed for a moment, tears beginning to form. "You're right," she admitted softly. "I lied to you. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I can't change it. If you'll let me, I'd like to explain why...and tell you the truth."

"How do I know you won't lie again?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

Charlie finally made eye contact with her mother and my heart nearly broke at the hurt look on her face. She'd been crying pretty hard and her eyes were red and puffy. She looked conflicted, but finally reached out a hand and her mother grabbed it, pulling her to her feet.

(Y/N) and Charlie sat on the bed in silence for a moment before (Y/N) began to speak. "When you were little and you'd ask me where your dad was, it always hurt me to answer you. When you were born, I was still in mourning, and I never really dealt with his death until you were a few months old."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "Our lives were complicated in a way I could never fully describe to you. Your father always believed he would die young--I was just too naive to agree. His death broke me in ways I'm embarrassed to admit. He was my everything, Charlie, and for a while, I wished I could trade places with him."

She sighed, tears falling freely now. "But then I found out I was pregnant and I had to shift my whole mindset. My life became about taking care of you--protecting you--and nothing else mattered. I may not have always gone about it in the right way, but I never intended to hurt you."

Charlie sniffled a little and turned to face (Y/N) as she continued talking.

"The things this family has done--the lives we've saved, has earned us a bit of special treatment. I know I've told you a lot of things about monsters and demons and angels--all of those things were true. Heaven and Hell really do exist, and your dad really is in heaven."

She closed her eyes, thinking back to many years prior. "When you were a baby, your dad was given a gift by god. He was able to return to earth for one short hour to say goodbye to me and Uncle Sammy--and to meet you."

Charlie's eyes widened in shock. "He met me?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Yeah, baby, he did. He held you in his arms and told you how perfect you were--and how he wanted your life to be beautiful and amazing; sentiments I also share. It wasn't until that moment I really started to heal--to properly grieve."

"But what about his death?" Charlie whispered. "I heard you say it was awful and he suffered."

I watched agony flash across my wife's face and I wanted so badly to hold her--to take away the pain. Just like I wanted to shield Charlie from the memory (Y/N) was about to share.

"We've lost a lot of people in this life, Charlie. More people than I'd care to admit. The three incredible women you're named after all died as a direct result of hunting--of the life we chose. There were so many others that we loved deeply and lost painfully. Your dad was no different."

"The main parts of the story are true. We were hunting vampires--me, your dad, and your Uncle Sam. Everything seemed fine...it was a shocking cut and dry, easy hunt, but it turned into the worst night of my life. I heard your uncle scream my name and I just knew...I almost didn't turn around."

She sniffed softly and exhaled shakily. The painful memory was not one she had ever wanted to relive. "Your dad had been thrown by a vampire, like so many times before. I didn't even think anything of it, but when I turned around, I saw--" she cleared her throat, "I saw his feet dangling slightly, up against a post, with a piece of metal sticking out of his chest."

Charlie gasped and renewed tears sprang from her eyes.

(Y/N) didn't stop...once she'd begun, she couldn't stop. "I knew without him saying a word that he was dying--this was it. Your uncle and I had to stand there and watch him slowly fade away. I heard him take his last breath, taking a piece of my soul with him. It was hell, Charlie."

Charlie was crying harder as her mother turned to her, her own tears staining her cheeks. (Y/N) reached for her and Charlie dove into the comfort of her arms.

"I'm sorry, mama," she cried.

(Y/N) tightened her grip. "It's alright baby."

The two stayed like that for a long time, not separating until their tears had dried.

When Charlie sat up and wiped her face, she seemed almost sheepish.

(Y/N) turned to her with a sad smile. "So you see, that's why I don't want you to be a hunter. It's not that I think you couldn't do it or a desire to control you--I just don't wanna lose you."

Charlie nodded. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you," she whispered.

"It's okay, baby. I'm not mad."

I couldn't even begin to express the various emotions I was feeling in that moment. I was proud of my wife and heartbroken for her and Charlie. I missed them both terribly and I knew they felt the same. The ache in my chest was a constant reminder of the distance between us--and I didn't know if I could take much more of it.

********

"Well, baby," you said, looking at the ceiling. "Our little girl turns 16 today...and it scares the hell out of me."

You sighed and dragged yourself out of bed, heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

"She's got a boyfriend, you know," you continued. "I think I scared him a little bit when he came over last weekend to meet me. You'd be proud."

You brushed your teeth, humming quietly as you did.

"His name is Zack--he seems nice enough. I'm not too worried about her. She's a tough girl and knows how to fight, thanks to her mama."

You sighed as you ran a brush through your hair.

"I just can't believe she's two years away from adulthood. It blows my mind," you admitted softly. "It's days like today that I miss you more than ever. I wish you were here Dean, and I love so much."

You blew a kiss towards the ceiling before finishing getting ready.

When you went downstairs, Charlie was already at the table eating a bowl of cereal.

"My, my, you're up early," you teased.

"It's not every day a girl turns 16, mom," she teased in return.

"16...god that makes me feel old."

"You are old."

You threw a dish towel at her and she giggled as she blocked it. "Little shit," you mumbled.

"Fry cry from when you used to call me 'little one'."

You smiled. "You were so cute back then."

"What? Am I hideous now?"

You laughed and squeezed her in a tight hug. "You're the most beautiful girl I know."

You kissed her cheek and she groaned. "Gross, mom."

You laughed. "You know, someday you're gonna miss this. Soon, you'll be going off to college and leaving me in the dust. You'll get married and move away and one day you'll wake up and think 'man I wanna hug my mom'."

Charlie rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." She paused for a moment, her face sobering slightly. "Hey mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you date?"

You nearly choked on your coffee. "Pardon?"

"Why don't you ever date? You're pretty and smart--I know there's a lot of hot, single dads at school who would love to take you out."

"As much as I appreciate that darling, I'm not interested in dating."

"Why not?"

You sat your mug down. "Why the sudden interest in my dating life?"

"Because I'm going to college soon, mom--and I don't want you to be alone," she admitted softly.

You sighed. "Oh sweetheart. You don't need to worry about me, I'll be just fine. Besides, I'm not alone--not really."

"I don't mean friends mom, I mean someone to love you."

"To be honest with you, Charlie, I've thought about it...but I know, in my heart, no one will ever compare to your dad. No one could ever love me the way he did, nor could I ever love someone as much as I love him. So I don't mind being alone--I know for a fact I will see your dad again. That's a gift most people will never have."

"I want a love like that," Charlie said quietly.

You smiled. "I hope you will someday, baby. I really do."

She smiled and nodded, looking down at the last of her cereal. "It's kind of nice knowing heaven is real--like not just having faith, but knowing."

You glanced up, a small smile on your face. "Yeah it is, sweetheart. Yeah it is."

**********

"Mama," Charlie whimpered as she practically barged through your front door and straight into your arms.

"What's wrong baby? What happened?"

"Steven broke up with me," she cried.

"Oh sweetheart," you said gently. "Come on in and sit down. Let me make you some chamomile tea."

Charlie sniffled and nodded, coming into the house and sitting down at the kitchen island to watch you as you prepared her tea.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

"He said I wasn't good enough for him--that he's going places and I'll just 'hold him back'."

You closed your eyes and your grip tightened on the tea kettle in your hand. You felt the strong urge to go find this kid and smack him around a little, but you knew that wouldn't solve anything. It certainly wouldn't fix your daughter's broken heart. For the first time, you were glad Dean wasn't here--you knew he would have beaten the shit outta the kid for hurting his baby girl.

"He's obviously an idiot--and an asshole, for that matter."

Charlie sniffled again. "But I love him."

You sighed softly, turning around to face her. "I know, sweetie. But I also know he's not the right man for you."

"How do you know?"

"He would have never said those things to you if he was. If he loved you and I mean truly loved you, you would be his priority."

Charlie nodded, but still looked horribly sad. You finished making her tea and sat the cup down in front of her with a soft smile.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. It's going to hurt for a while--and that's alright--it's okay to feel. But you're going to dust yourself off and keep going."

"What if I never find anyone?" she whispered.

"You're 19, Charlie," you said gently. "You've got so much time. I was 31 when I married your father."

She looked up at you with sad eyes. "I wanna find a love like you and daddy."

You inhaled deeply. "That's all I've ever wanted for you, sweetheart--and I know your dad would want the same thing. I'm sure it's hard to not have relationship role models in your parents, but at least you know how we feel about each other."

Charlie shook her head qucikly. "You guys are my relationship role models. Just because dad isn't here, doesn't mean I don't look up to him and you. I've heard stories about how much he loved you my entire life--from everyone, Uncle Sam, Aunt Donna, Aunt Eileen, Aunt Jody, Claire, Alex...everyone. And I've seen how much you love him...even now. It's been 19 years since he died and your love hasn't diminished."

Tears filled your eyes. You were glad she knew how much her parents loved each other, even if she never saw them together.

You came around the island and took Charlie's hand, guiding her to the couch in the living room. She sat down beside you and you held her close, letting her cry softly into your chest.

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart. Someday, you're going to meet someone who makes you laugh, holds you when you cry, supports all of your goals and ambitions, and loves you for who you are. They'll treat you right, respect you, and fight for you even when it's difficult."

You kissed the top of her head and continued, "I hope that person makes you feel amazing--like you're the only woman in the world to them. I want you to be loved fully--by someone who sees your value, your worth. And I hope you love them with the same kind of endless passion."

Charlie sniffed and held you a little tighter.

"I love your dad with everything I have--he's the other half of my soul. He loved me infinitely more than I deserved and I am incredibly honored to have experienced that kind of love. All I want is for you to experience a love like that--a love that lasts forever...death be damned."

**********

Dean's POV:

I listened to my daughter cry over her first broken heart and I watched my wife comfort her in a way only someone as amazing as she is could do.

I listened to Charlie say her mother and I were her role models--that she hoped to find a love like ours one day.

I cried as I listened to my wife tell our daughter her hopes for the future--and the love she hoped Charlie would experience. I cried even harder as (Y/N) tells her the kind of love we shared--the kind that lasts even in death.

I can't help but share the same hope as my wife--echo the same prayers for her future. She deserves the world, and that includes a love story for the ages.

I watch, with tears in my eyes, as my wife glances up at the ceiling and mouths 'I love you' before blowing a kiss. This time, I whisper the words back and blow a kiss to her, hoping somehow she can sense it.

**********

"He's just such a great guy," Charlie gushed.

You looked over at Sam, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Does he treat you right?" he asked.

Charlie nodded eagerly. "He's so good to me. He's always respectful and sweet--I...I think I love him."

Your eyes widened and you gave Sam a pointed look.

"Why don't you bring him by for dinner on Saturday?" Sam suggested.

"That would be great!" She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thanks Uncle Sam!"

She rushed out the door, giddy in the way only new love could be.

"So you're gonna research the hell outta him, right?" you asked.

"Obviously," Sam agreed.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Sam had completed his research and to your happy surprise, there didn't seem to be anything concerning in this guy's past. Of course, you took precautions, as you so often did with Charlie's friends and boyfriends. You needed to make sure she was safe.

Sam had laid out the silver dinnerware and you'd blessed all the water in the house, just in case. You could never be too careful--you were still Winchesters after all.

When Charlie and her boyfriend, Paul, arrived, you were surprised by how gentlemanly he was. He'd brought you flowers, which you thought was a very sweet gesture, especially since they were lilies--your favorite.

"That's so sweet of you, Paul," you said warmly. "Lilies are my favorite."

He smiled. "I asked Charlie what your favorite was so I could get you something you would like."

You were surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but it gave you a very positive feeling in your chest. A feeling you could see reflected in your daughter's eyes.

The more you talked with him and the more information you got, the more you liked him. He was genuinely kind and caring, and you could see how much he cared for Charlie.

He made her laugh, he made her smile, and he was gently affectionate with her in a way that reminded you of Dean. In fact, there was a lot about him that made you think of Dean...and that made you extremely happy for your daughter.

Eileen, Charlie, and Paul were sitting in the living room after dinner, while you and Sam cleared the table and did dishes. You'd had to practically force Paul to go sit down. He was very insistent on helping you. Normally, you would have happily taken his help, but you really wanted to talk to Sam alone.

"So what do you think?" you asked softly.

"He doesn't seem to be any kind of monster," Sam mumbled. "And he treats Charlie well."

"I like him," you admitted. "He, uhh--he reminds me of Dean."

"Really?" Sam asked in surprise.

"The way he looks at Charlie...the way he makes her laugh and smile...the way she looks at him. All of it reminds me of my relationship with Dean. It's what I've always wanted for her."

Sam smiled. "You must really like him to compare him to Dean."

You chuckled. "You're not wrong. I'm happy for her, but I'm not trying to marry her off yet."

Sam laughed. "I know you're not, don't worry."

Later that night, Charlie asked you what you thought of Paul and you repeated what you'd told Sam earlier.

"He reminds you of dad?" Charlie whispered.

You nodded. "I liked him very much."

"So do I, mom."

You pulled her close, hugging her tightly. "I'm happy for you baby."

"Thanks...I'm glad you approve."

"So does your Uncle Sam, for the record."

"That actually makes me feel really good," Charlie admitted. "It's almost as good as having a seal of approval from dad."

You smiled. "I know your dad would like him too, sweetheart. He makes you happy and that's all we've ever wanted for you."

**********

"Today's the day," you whispered, looking at the framed picture of your husband. "Our baby girl is getting married."

It had been two years since you'd first met Paul and the longer you knew him, the more you liked him. He was the right match for Charlie and you couldn't even begin to describe how happy you were for her. She deserved to be loved by a good man--to experience a love as powerful as her parents have.

You couldn't believe they were getting married today. It was the next step in your daughter's life and it brought you so much joy, and perhaps a little sadness. It was the end of an era. Your little girl was about to start a new life with the man she loved...and it made you miss your other half.

You'd always known today would be difficult. Dean wouldn't be there to walk his daughter down the aisle and it broke your heart, but that didn't mean he couldn't be present. You had a framed picture of him with you at Charlie's suggestion--a way to keep his memory with you on this special day.

His picture was wonderful, but you craved his presence--his soul. You wanted to feel like he was with you, and you knew he'd want to witness the events of the day.

"Hey baby," you said to the ceiling. "I really need you here, Dean."

You waited a few moments in silence, hoping he had heard you.

**********

Dean's POV:

I was lounging in a chair in the Roadhouse, listening to Charlie and Ash have a heated debate about some nerdy computer thing I couldn't possibly understand. Just listening to them made me smile--it felt good to be surrounded by so many people I'd loved and lost.

I took a slow drink of my whiskey and chuckled softly at their antics. I made eye contact with Ellen over the tops of their heads and she had a similar expression on her face.

"I really need you here, Dean."

I heard (Y/N)'s voice in my mind and knew I needed to go to her immediately. She didn't sound distressed, but I could tell she needed me by the tone of her voice.

I stood up and crossed the room towards the bar where Ellen was standing. "I need to go check on (Y/N/N)."

Ellen nodded. "Use the backroom. I'll keep everyone out."

"Thanks, Ellen."

I went into the backroom and sat down. I closed my eyes and pictured the sweetest face in the world--my beloved (Y/N). When I opened my eyes, I was in a place I didn't recognize, looking at a woman I knew to be my wife--even if she didn't quite look like the woman I always pictured.

She was older than even the last time I saw her, but she was no less beautiful. Her curves were softer, her hair was graying, and the lines on her face were deeper. None of that mattered to me, she still stole my heart with just a glance.

She was wearing a long silky robe, which only increased my confusion. We were in a strange place, and she wasn't wearing proper clothes.

"Well, handsome, I think I've given you enough time," she said softly. "You're probably wondering where we are..." she gestured around. "Today is a very special day...it's Charlie's wedding day."

I gasped--I hadn't realized enough time had passed for her to have met a man worthy of marriage...hell, I didn't even know who she was marrying.

"I don't know if you've met Paul yet, but he's a wonderful man, Dean--and he's so good to Charlie. You would really like him, I just know it. He even reminds me of you," she said softly. "He loves her the way you love me. It's what we've always wanted for her."

I couldn't believe my daughter was getting married, but if her soon-to-be-husband was as great as (Y/N) described, then I was beyond happy for her. I wasn't going to miss a single moment of this day, no matter how long it took.

"I've gotta get my dress on and go check on (Y/N). Feel free to go find her--I'll be there soon."

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to stay for that...she was still my wife, after all, but it felt creepy to watch her change. Instead, I went to find my daughter.

It didn't take me long to find her and when I did, my heart clenched in my chest. She looked so much like her mother it was almost frightening, the only difference was her eyes.

I had no idea how old she was, but I would have guessed she was around 28--if only based on how her mother had looked at that age. She had long, beautiful hair that was styled in some fancy wedding do. A woman was finishing her makeup and there were other girls in the room with her chatting away as they got ready.

I didn't want to see something I couldn't unsee, so I decided to go back to (Y/N)'s room until the ceremony began.

**********

You smoothed your dress and took a deep breath before entering the bridal suite to check on your daughter. She was just preparing to put on her dress when you entered.

You inhaled sharply and tears stung your eyes as you took in her beautiful face--she almost seemed to sparkle. "You look beautiful, baby," you whispered.

"Thanks mom. I was wondering where you were--I almost sent one of the girls to come get you."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

You crossed the room and hugged her tightly. You helped her into her dress, zipping up the back and looking in the mirror with her.

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Nervous," she admitted.

"Don't be. You're marrying a great man. You have nothing to be nervous about."

"Were you nervous on your wedding day?"

You chuckled lightly. "Not even a little."

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "I knew I wanted to marry your father and I knew he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for me--nothing else mattered."

Charlie smiled and you saw some of her nerves fall away. "I wish daddy was here right now," she whispered.

"He is, sweetheart--I know it."

"How do you know?"

"I told him I needed him. He would never ignore that call."

Charlie smiled tearily and you waved your hand in front of her face to dry the tears.

"Don't mess up your makeup, sweetie."

She laughed and you placed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks mom," she murmured.

"You ready?"

She nodded. "I'm ready."

"Then let's go."

**********

Dean's POV:

I waited patiently outside of the bridal suite for my wife and daughter to emerge. I was rendered absolutely speechless when I caught a glimpse of Charlie--she looked even more beautiful than before. Even better, she looked so incredibly happy.

I followed the bridal party as they moved towards the main hall where the ceremony was taking place. I watched as everyone began to line up and I started to wonder who would be walking Charlie down the aisle.

As I had this thought, my brother appeared with something in his hand. He looked older too, of course, but he still looked like my little brother to me.

"I think you forgot something," Sam said to (Y/N) as he handed her what appeared to be a picture frame.

She took it with a teary expression and hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Sammy."

He kissed the top of her head before embracing Charlie. "You look beautiful, Charlie."

"Thanks, Uncle Sam."

"Alright, I've gotta go sit down. Your mother will kill me if I'm late." He addressed his words to a tall young man I quickly recognized as my namesake, Sam's son, Dean.

"Better go fast, the procession is about to start," (Y/N) teased.

I'd assumed Sam would be walking Charlie down the aisle, but now I was truly confused. Perhaps (Y/N/N) was going to do it.

The doors opened and the music poured out as the wedding party began the long walk down the aisle. Before long, the only people who remained were my wife and my daughter.

"You ready, sweetheart?" (Y/N) asked.

Charlie nodded. She took the picture frame from her mother and breathed deeply. She kissed her hand and then placed it on the picture with a small smile. I looked at the picture and surprise lit up my face. It was a picture of me...

She handed it back to her mother with a smile.

"In a way, he's still walking you down the aisle," (Y/N) whispered softly.

"It's perfect," Charlie affirmed.

The wedding march began and (Y/N) squeezed Charlie's arm gently. The two of them began the walk down the aisle and I followed behind them, proud to be there for this powerful moment.

This was the proudest moment of my life--or I guess afterlife. My daughter was happy, my wife was happy--I couldn't have asked for anything better.

**********

"You didn't say it would be this awful," Charlie accused you.

You chuckled lightly. "Of course I did, but you didn't want to listen."

Charlie groaned as a contraction hit her.

You looked up at Paul, who looked slightly terrified. "You alright there, Paul?" you asked gently.

"I feel a little anxious, that's all," he reassured you.

You smiled, thinking back to the day you gave birth to Charlie. Sam's face had looked very similar to the way Paul looked right now.

Much like you, Charlie was tough as nails, and you knew she would make it through childbirth just as you had. "You're doing great, honey," you murmured.

She moaned in pain, squeezing both your hand and Paul's. You winced slightly, but let her keep squeezing. You soothed her gently, brushing her hair back from her face, much like Eileen had done for you 30 years prior.

You almost couldn't believe it had been that long. It was hard to believe how fast the time had gone by, but part of you still felt as though time was too slow. You wanted as much time with your daughter as possible, but your desire to be reunited with Dean was almost as strong. Love was complicated that way.

Charlie's nails biting into your skin roused you from your thoughts and you focused back on your daughter, trying to help her through one of the most incredible--and painful--moments of her life.

Ultimately, Charlie was in labor for a grand total of 14 hours before giving birth to a very healthy baby girl. You watched proudly as she held her newborn daughter in her arms and whispered to her much like you'd done to Charlie when she was born.

"You did so well, sweetheart," you said softly as you stroked Charlie's hair.

She looked up at you with those piercing green eyes of hers--emotion filling every part of her face. "She's so perfect."

You smiled, remembering the past as if it were yesterday. "Just like her mama," you murmured.

Tears filled Charlie's eyes and you kissed her forehead gently. You were just as emotional as she was, but you did your best to hide it. You didn't want to burden her with your emotions.

"Do you have a name picked out?" you asked.

Charlie nodded. "Lillian, after Paul's mother."

You knew Paul's mother had passed away a few years prior, so you thought the sentiment was especially sweet. "Lillian is a good name."

"Her middle name is Deanna...in honor of dad."

You inhaled sharply, surprised by how a simple name stirred up so much emotion. "He would love that, baby. In fact, Deanna is your great grandmother's name. Your grandmother named her children after her parents, Deanna and Samuel...Dean and Sam."

"I never knew that," Charlie whispered.

"I guess I never really thought about it until now."

Charlie looked up at Paul. "What about her last name?"

Charlie had chosen to keep her last name when she got married. She loved the name and the history that came along with it--plus she wanted to honor her dad, a sentiment you appreciated.

"I think we should hyphenate it," Paul answered.

"Lillian Deanna Winchester-Riley," Charlie said slowly. "I like that."

Paul smiled. "I like it too."

You smiled at the young couple and your sweet granddaughter, enjoying the moment as long as you could. There was so much you wanted to say, but now wasn't the time. You wanted this day to be nothing but happiness and love--Charlie deserved it.

**********

Dean's POV:

It had been several days since I'd last heard from (Y/N) and I was beginning to worry. Usually she talked to me pretty often, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time.

I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, so I decided to check in on her--just in case.

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find myself in a large doctor's office. I looked around the expansive room filled with several large comfortable reclining chairs, confusion flooding my mind. I didn't see (Y/N), but I did notice several people sitting back in their chairs, hooked up to IVs and monitors, and I had a feeling this wasn't a good place.

I began to walk down the rows of chairs, examining every face I came across. It didn't take me long to figure out this was a cancer treatment facility and these patients were likely receiving chemotherapy.

At the end of one of the rows, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting alone, reading a novel. My instincts told me to go to her and as I got closer, I realized I knew the (y/e/c) eyes as well as I knew my own.

"(Y/N)," I whispered as I sunk to my knees in front of her. She looked so much older than the last time I'd seen her, but I knew without a doubt that was due to her illness. She was wearing a pretty bandana on her head to hide her lack of hair and she looked painfully thin.

It broke my heart to see her like this--and it made me angry. Out of all the people in the world, (Y/N) deserved this the least. She was a hero, for god's sake. She'd saved the world as many times as I had, and she was a genuinely good person. She didn't deserve to suffer like this.

"Hey Miss (Y/N)," a woman's voice said from behind me. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/N) looked up at the young woman and smiled. "I'm alright, Cynthia, all things considered."

Cynthia nodded, a sad smile on her face. "Any nausea?"

(Y/N) shook her head. "I guess I'm used to it."

"Alright, well let me know if you need anything. You've got another hour left and then your daughter will be here to pick you up."

(Y/N) nodded and I watched the nurse walk away. When I turned my attention back to (Y/N), I could tell she felt terrible. The chemo was killing her as much as the cancer--she was becoming a shell of the woman I loved so dearly.

I almost couldn't stand to see her like this--the urge to run was one I had to suppress. (Y/N) needed me now more than ever and I would be damned if I left her side for more than a moment. She might not know I was there, but I hoped my presence would somehow comfort her.

I pressed my lips to her forehead in a soft kiss she couldn't feel and I whispered how much I loved her. As much as I wanted to be with her again, I needed her to survive--Charlie needed her more than me right now, so I couldn't be selfish. I would have done anything to make her healthy, but this was one problem I couldn't solve.

**********

You weren't exactly surprised when you'd been diagnosed with cancer three years prior, shortly before the birth of your first grandchild. You didn't tell Charlie until after Lillian was born...you hadn't wanted to worry her.

Chemo had been hell--maybe not quite as bad as what Dean had described hell to be like, but close enough. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy. You'd spent an entire year going to treatment after treatment, seeing doctor after doctor, and feeling like death the entire time.

You'd lost more than your hair...you'd lost your happiness and your spark--you'd lost yourself. Even now, two years in remission, you still didn't quite feel like your old self. You weren't sure you ever would be...life had simply thrown too many obstacles at you, and you were bound to break at some point.

The two constants in your life during your illness had been Charlie and Sam. You weren't surprised by either one's presence and you appreciated the love and care--even when they were a bit overbearing.

Now that you were healthy again, Charlie had been focusing more on her husband and two children--having just given birth to her second child.

You couldn't fault her for it, after all you'd told her you were completely fine. The only person who saw through you was Sam, but then again, he always had.

"Speak of the devil," you murmured softly as Sam walked into the living room.

"Were you talking about me?" Sam teased lightly.

"Technically, I was thinking about you."

"Okay, good. That's less concerning. For a moment, I thought you'd been talking to yourself."

"I tend to keep those conversations internal."

"You tend to keep everything internal," he admonished as he sat down beside you.

You sighed, hating how right he was.

"So come on. How are you really feeling?"

"Honestly, Sammy, I'm okay. I'm neither good, nor bad...I just am."

Sam exhaled deeply and nodded. "Has therapy helped at all?"

You shook your head. "I can't really explain what I'm feeling to a therapist, ya know? They wouldn't understand--hell, they'd probably think I was nuts."

Sam raised his eyebrows knowingly. "It's Dean again, isn't it?"

Tears filled your eyes. "I miss him now more than I ever have before--with the exception of the weeks after he first died. I can't explain it, but somehow almost dying has made me want to let go...to be with him again."

"I can't even begin to understand how you're feeling," Sam admitted. "But that doesn't mean I won't be here to listen and do what I can to help you. I don't want you to die anytime soon, but I know how it feels to welcome death with open arms."

You laid your head on his shoulder. "It's almost as if cancer took the joy out of life. I thought for sure I'd feel it again when I got better, but it's just not there. I don't want to die, but I'm tired, Sam--I'm so incredibly tired."

He knew what you meant without you having to explain yourself further. He simply wrapped his arms around you and held you close, allowing you to cry against his chest. He would have done anything for you, but he knew this time you were beyond his saving.

**********

It was your annual visit to your oncologist and Charlie had decided to come with you. You'd been in remission for five years now, but you had a feeling of dread you couldn't describe.

Charlie must have sensed it because she demanded to come with you to your appointment. You felt a bit like an invalid, having your daughter come with you, but you knew she was doing it out of love and concern.

"How have you been feeling lately, (Y/N)?" your doctor asked.

"A bit tired, but otherwise okay," you answered.

The doctor nodded, a sad look on her face. It was a look you knew well--you'd seen it before. "Just tell me," you inisisted.

Both Charlie and the doctor looked surprised, but the doctor was the first to recover. "I'm afraid your scans aren't looking good."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath--both knowing and fearing her next words.

"It looks like the cancer is back...and it's spread."

You sighed heavily, but didn't cry--you'd already accepted the inevitability of death and you weren't surprised it was arriving sooner than you'd expected.

Charlie, on the other hand, was devastated. You heard her gasp out a soft sob, so you turned your attention to her, wrapping your arms around her to comfort her.

"How long?" you asked the doctor softly.

"With chemo and maybe some radiation, a year, maybe a year and a half."

Charlie's soft crying intensified, prompting you to hold onto her a little tighter.

"And without treatment?"

"Wait, mom--no," Charlie said quickly.

Your eyes locked on to the doctor's gray ones and she exhaled softly. "A few weeks--two months at most."

Charlie looked up at you, bright green eyes begging you for something you knew you couldn't give.

You smiled sadly, tears of your own filling your eyes. "I can't do it again, baby--I just can't. I don't want to live the last bit of my life suffering like I did with the last round. I'm 70 years old--I've lived my life, and I'm ready to let go."

Charlie sniffled. "But I'm not ready."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. We're never ready for the people we love to leave us. I don't want to leave you, but I can't stay forever."

"How am I supposed to live without you?" she whispered.

You smiled. "Luckily, you have a loving family who will support you through this. Losing someone is never easy, but you'll get through it, sweetheart. I'll be going to join your dad, so we'll both be watching over you."

She seemed to find some comfort in this, but you could still see the pain she was feeling. It broke your heart to leave her, but it was time. You were ready to go home--to Dean, who had always been your home.

**********

Telling Sam you were going to die had been one of the hardest things you'd ever had to do. He hated the idea of losing you almost as much as Charlie did, but he understood why you couldn't go through treatment again.

You'd done the rounds--saying goodbye to all the people you loved who still remained on earth. You would miss them terribly, but you knew this wasn't goodbye--you'd see them all again someday.

For the last week, you'd been in hospice. The end was coming soon and you were ready, even if your daughter wasn't. You were on enough pain medication to take down an elephant, but you managed to stay awake long enough to talk when you had visitors.

Today was one of those days. You'd already said your goodbyes to everyone else you loved, but Charlie was the one you knew would be the hardest. You'd tried to prepare her for this moment, but you knew it wasn't easy for her. You wanted to reassure her everything was going to be alright--she was going to be okay.

"I wanted to talk to you, sweetie," you said softly, interrupting your daughter's story.

"Sure, mom," she murmured, taking your hand. "What is it?"

"I'm ready to go," you whispered. "But I can't leave until you let me go."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I'm not ready."

"Yes you are. You're the strongest person I know and you've got a loving husband who will help you through this." You squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Besides, you know where I'm going...how many people can say that?"

She nodded, sniffling softly. "Not many."

"Exactly. But you know. You know heaven is real. You know that all the people we love are there waiting for us. You know I'll always be with you--that I'll be checking in on you any chance I get. That knowledge is a gift, Charlie...the greatest gift I could possibly give you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing your words to sink in. She hated letting you go, but she knew you were right. It hurt her to see you in pain and she could tell you needed to go.

"I will always love you, Charlie. Always. You're the best parts of me--and your dad. I've been honored to be your mother, to watch you grow up, to see the amazing woman you've become. I'm so proud of you in every way a mother can be proud of her daughter. You will always be my little girl--and I will never ever leave your heart."

Charlie laid her head on your chest, letting the tears fall in earnest. "I know how much you love me, mom, and I'm so thankful that I've had all these years with you. I love you so much and I'll miss you always. But I know it's time for you to move on...and you're right, I'll be okay. So it's okay...you can let go now. Go be with dad...where you belong."

Those words warmed your dying heart. They were what you needed to hear--what you needed Charlie to say. This was it. The last few moments of your life on earth. For many people, this moment would spark fear, but for you it was a welcome relief. As you'd told your daughter, you knew where you were going--you were going home.

**********

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find yourself in an open field. The sun was shining brightly and birds were singing softly. For a moment, you were lost--unsure of where you were or how you got there.

You looked down at your hands, surprised to see how soft and smooth they were. You'd become accustomed to the wrinkles of old age, but it appeared those were gone.

"Hello, (Y/N)," said a familiar voice from behind you.

You turned around and greeted the young man with a smile. "Jack!"

You hugged him without thinking--something you'd always done when you'd both been on earth. You supposed thinking of him as a 'young man' wasn't quite accurate anymore, but that's how you'd probably always see him.

Jack returned your embrace with a gentle smile. "Welcome to heaven."

You let go of him and nodded. "I, uhh, I think I'm a little younger than I was when I died." You held your hands up as evidence.

Jack nodded. "You are the same age you were when Dean passed away. I thought you would appreciate that."

You blinked away tears and nodded quickly. "Thank you," you whispered. You were about to ask where Dean was when Jack nodded towards a building in the distance.

"He's in there."

You glanced towards the building, eyes narrowing to read the signage above the door. A warm smile graced your face as you realized it was Harvelle's Roadhouse--the very place you'd met Dean.

You turned back to Jack to thank him, but he'd disappeared. You murmured another thank you to him, knowing he would hear you. He was god, after all.

You walked the relatively short distance to the Roadhouse, stopping outside the door to take a deep breath. It might not have been all that long for Dean, but for you it had been 38 years.

You knew you were more than ready to see him, so you pulled the door open and stepped inside. It felt exactly like stepping into the past--like being embraced by a favorite memory.

**********

Dean's POV:

I heard the doors open, but I didn't think much of it. People were always coming and going from the Roadhouse. It was a popular establishment, even in heaven.

I didn't even think anything when I heard Ellen greeting someone happily. I was too engrossed in the old western show I was watching on the TV above the bar.

It wasn't until I heard Bobby say "(Y/N)" that I started to pay attention--the spell finally broken. I looked around, trying to figure out why he'd said her name, when I made eye contact with the most beautiful (y/e/c) eyes I'd ever seen. I would know those eyes anywhere.

I jumped out of my seat and took a few steps in her direction, whispering her name like I was afraid she would disappear if I said it too loud.

She smiled at me--a warm, loving expression I'd missed more than I could express. "Hi, Dean."

Hearing her voice pushed me into action. I moved towards her at the same time she moved towards me--meeting in the middle in an embrace I'd craved for longer than I'd care to admit.

Neither of us spoke, we didn't need to. Just feeling her in my arms again was better than any words she could have said.

She looked up at me, affection warming her features, and I couldn't help but stare. She was so beautiful it hurt--if I hadn't already been dead, I would have passed out from lack of oxygen. I couldn't breathe as I looked at her--hell, I didn't even want to blink.

She reached up and touched my face, and I leaned into her caress. I'd missed the feeling of her gentle hands and I reveled in the feeling now.

She gently tugged on my head, pulling me down towards her. She stood up on her toes so she could press her lips against mine in a kiss more passionate than any we'd ever shared.

**********

Seeing Dean for the first time in almost 40 years was a shocking experience. He was just as handsome as you remembered, perhaps even more so.

You knew just by the way he looked at you that his love hadn't diminished in any way--just as yours hadn't.

Your embrace was wonderful, but it wasn't until your lips met his that you really felt the powerful emotions coursing through you. You had no desire to ever stop kissing him and you had a feeling he felt the same way.

You poured all your love for him into the kiss, and you could feel how much he loved you in return. It was more passionate--more powerful--than any kiss you'd ever shared with him on earth. You weren't sure if it was a heaven thing or simply because you'd been apart for so long.

When you finally separated, he looked at you with adoring eyes, hands still holding you firmly against him. You had a feeling he was afraid to let you go--a sentiment you shared.

He seemed to remember there were lots of witnesses around, which only made him more protective of you.

"Do you wanna see where I live?" he whispered quietly.

"Of course."

He addressed the room without taking his eyes off you. "I'm sure we'd all love to catch up and reminisce, but it'll have to wait. My beautiful wife and I have some catching up of our own to do."

You heard some knowing chuckles, which neither of you acknowledged. Instead, you allowed him to lead you out of the building and onto a gently sloping trail.

At the end of the trail sat a lovely little house, complete with a white picket fence--the kind of storybook ending neither of you had gotten in life.

Dean led you into the house and you instantly fell in love with it. There was just something about it that felt like home. Perhaps it was the man standing beside you, a hopeful look on his handsome face.

"Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," you said honestly.

He seemed to relax again, a small smirk dancing on his lips. "Wanna see the bedroom?"

You grinned. "I'd love to."

He led you down the hall to the bedroom. To your surprise, the room looked identical to the bedroom you'd shared at the bunker. You didn't expect such a simple thing to make you so emotional, but you couldn't help the tears that sprang to your eyes.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

You nodded. "I just didn't realize how much I missed this room."

He smiled. "It's the only place that ever felt like home."

You shook your head. "Anywhere with you felt like home to me."

He turned to you suddenly, pressing his body against yours as he pulled you in for another heated kiss. His desire for you was evident in his actions and you had to admit, you wanted him just as badly.

"I'm glad you took your time," he admitted.

You pulled back, a little surprised at his words.

"Not because I didn't wanna be with you, baby. You know that," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to live a beautiful, full life."

You smiled warmly. "I did, Dean. I really did...but I never stopped missing you."

"I know," he admitted. "I was there for a lot of it."

"I always hoped you were."

He smiled at you again, before leaning down to place soft kisses to any piece of exposed skin he could.

"I have something I wanna try," he whispered against your skin.

"Mhmm?" you hummed softly.

"I wanna see if there's a limit to the number of times I can make you cum...it is heaven after all," he murmured huskily.

You gasped. "Dean!"

"Only if you want to..."

"Take me to bed, Mr. Winchester," you whispered. "I think we've both waited long enough."

"Anything for you, Mrs. Winchester...but don't rush me. Now it's my turn to take my time."

You giggled as he tossed you onto the bed, lips never far from each other's skin. You made love more times than either of you could count, trying to make up for all the lost time. Neither of you kept track of the number of times you fell apart in each other's arms...all that mattered was the love that still sparked between you, a love that even death could never diminish.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean Winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x wife!reader #dean winchester x wife reader

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jihyoruri · 9 months

Text

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 ALL OF THE GIRLS YOU LOVED BEFORE(1/2) huh yunjin x reader

warnings: swearing, this is a part one of two imagines, high school au, based on tatbilb, this is a long one and so will the next part

jennifer huh.

yn knows her as yunjin.

well, that was before she was the lacrosse superstar womanizer that everyone in the school loves for some reason.

yn knew her since they were little kids, when they had their own friend group that would hang out at school and all after, when yn had a raging crush on the charismatic girl,before high school was a thing in their young minds, before yn was deemed not good enough to be what they call "popular."

it's not like yn dwells on it though, she totally doesn't think about how her ex best friend is now dating her ex crush, she always knew they would get together, they belong together so why should she care?

she has all she needs, she has her two sisters, her dad and her best friend.

she's over huh yunjin.

so why does she have to come back into her life?

.♡♡.

the sound of taylors voice plays from yn’s record player, it blends in with the sound of the hard rain that hits her window.

she places the thick black headband on her head it goes well with her knitted cream sweater, she smiles at herself in the mirror while humming to the song.

she looks at the vintage clock on her night table, that her older sister got for her, 6:15.

that should be enough time to make that breakfast that she planned on making since last night, they better be appreciative she thinks to herself.

she grabs her already packed backpack, heading down the stairs and into the kitchen turning on the lights.

she gets to it, heart shaped pancakes, fruits, bacon for her dad, spam for her little sister hyein, she always includes something that her family members like, she would include something for her older sister miyeon but she’s gone for college.

yn let’s out a sigh at the thought, with miyeon out of the house that meant that yn was the big sister, the responsible one, the one that makes sure that dad gets his coffees and that he gets home from work safe, that one that makes sure hyein has her grades up and is doing good.

the only thing is that’s not yn, she’s the middle child with her head in clouds, the hopeless romantic with no responsibilities.

now she has all of miyeon’s duties.

the sound of foot steps fill yn’s ears as she places all of the food on the island in the kitchen, they only eat on the dinner table during dinner.

“good morning, honey.” her dads voice fills the room, all ready in his work clothes, he comes up to yn and places a kiss at the side of her head, “this is amazing, what the occasion?”

yn looks at him offended, “why does there need to be an occasion for me to do something nice?” she asks affronted.

“because you only go cooking or baking crazy when stuff is on your mind.” he says stuffing a piece of bacon in his mouth.

“well, to bad for you mr doctor.” she says to him pouring coffee in his cup which makes him look at her even more suspicious only miyeon knows how to make his coffee right.

“oh, don’t look at me like that, I made sure to ask miyeon how to make your coffee correct before she left.” yn said irritated, “and I am totally fine, so stop looking at me like that.” she tried to say harshly but came out pretty soft.

“I’m not looking at you any way.” he dad responds putting another bacon his mouth before giving her an obvious pointed.

“oh, would you-” yn got cut off by the fast steps of her young sister coming down the stairs, “I smell pancakes!”

yn smiles at hyein as she sits in her seat, hyein rushing to put syrup on both the pancakes and her spam.

yn scrunches her face, “that’s disgusting.” she says looking at hyein’s maple syrup covered plate.

“you know what’s disgusting?” hyein asks with a hint of what yn would call evil in her voice, before yn can respond the younger girl pours syrup on yn’s eggs.

“you brat!” yn yells, “dad!” this is why miyeon needs to be here.

her dad just ignored the two girls taking a sip of his coffee.

hyein laughed as yn looked at her plate in disgust.

“eat up girls.” their dad said, “school starts soon, yn you okay with driving miyeons car?”

yn just nods her head hesitantly, truth to be told, she hates driving, it gives her anxiety she doesn’t know how miyeon and dad do it.

“I’m gonna bring my helmet.” hyein says laughing at yn’s annoyed face, their dad joining in.

“ha, ha, very funny.”

.♡♡.

yn pulls into her schools parking lot, turing down the music and parking beside a familiar looking car.

her heart slows down when she the person come out of their car, aeri.

she’s miyeon’s newly ex girlfriend, but before she was miyeon’s girlfriend, ex girlfriend, she was yn’s first girlfriend, well girl-friend.

yn crushed on the older girl for years, just hoping that she liked her back, and one day did give her a little hope.

“how do you tell someone you like her.” aeri said to yn as the girl looked up from the book.

this is it, yn thought to herself, but then she saw the blush rush to aeri’s face as she talked about the person, looking up at the library ceiling like a lovesick puppy, and yn knew it wasn’t her.

but there was still a little hope.

but that hope disappeared when miyeon came home, her face red, yn couldn’t tell if it was from the coldness or something else.

“aeri asked me out,”miyeon said with a dreamy look on her face, yn’s mouth dropped in shock as miyeon took off her thick scarf, “I think we’re like girlfriends, isn’t that carzy?”

and oh, how yn wanted to run up to her room and cry, but then she saw how happy miyeon looked, yn hasn’t seen her look like that since before their mom died.

so with that yn wrote a letter.

a letter that poured her whole heart out to aeri, and tucked it away in a box, it was the last letter that yn has ever wrote for her crushes.

when yn gets a crush it’s not like any old crushes, her feelings are strong and doesn’t matter what age she is, they just get so strong that the only thing she can do is write it out on a page and put it away.

miyeon would tell her that she’s being dramatic and it’s unhealthy but that’s just yn, a hopeless romantic that writes love letters to her crushes that she will never send out.

never.

“holy shit, you drove here.” aeri’s strong voice fills yn’s ears as she gets out of the car, “this is like a big accomplishment, I thought I’d have to drive you to school all year, not that I’d be complaining though.” aeri said longingly.

ever since miyeon broke up with her, she’s been going to lengths to keep that relationship with the rest of the family, she was close to them before she dated miyeon she’s their neighbour and still wanted to be close to them now, yn felt bad for her, all she wanted to say is that she would never break up with her like miyeon did.

“dad’s been making me.” yn said, throwing her backpack over her shoulder, he keeps telling her that she has to get comfortable with the road.

“want me to talk to him?” aeri asks, as they walk into the school, “he loves me.”

yn shakes her head, “nah it’s okay, he’s right I do need to learn.” she says as they make a stop at aeri’s locker.

yn watches aeri open her locker, she’s just doing a normal thing and she’s mesmerized, this is bad, really bad, yn can’t still be in love with aeri.

“yo!” a familiar voice shouts wrapping their arm around yn’s shoulder, “where have you been, y/n/n?” ryujin says to yn.

ryujin has been yn’s best friend since freshman year, after ryujin’s cousin dropped yn, she was their to pick up the pieces and has been their ever since.

“I’ve been here.” yn replies, “where have you been should be my question?”

“I’ve been around.” ryujin shrugs, “sorry aeri, I’m gonna have to steal yn for little bye!” ryujin says before pulling yn down the hall.

“have you heard the news?” ryujin asks like it’s the most crazy thing known to mankind.

“what news?”

“maya and yunjin broke up! can you believe that?.” ryujin says with a jump, “she left yunjin for some collage chick.”

maya, yn’s ex best friend and now yunjins ex girlfriend, maya is the one that dropped yn like she was nothing, like she did something wrong to her, yn will never understand why, they were so close, maya leaving her behind left her really blindsided.

maya had yunjin been in an relationship since the 8th grade, they’re in grade 11 now, yeah that’s a long time we know.

“you’re lying.” yn said, her mouth agape.

“would I lie?”

yn give ryujin a pointed look.

“okay, yes I would but I’m not about this, my evil cousin broke up with her bimbo sports star womanizer girlfriend the huh yunjin!” ryujin said. “this is huge this is crazy.”

“I’m very surprised you didn’t know, it’s like breaking news.” ryujin said as they walk up the stairs, “but then again all you do is stay in your room reading while listening to taylor or lana records or your baking your life away because somethings on your mind.” ryujin said nudging yn, “you’re such a dork.”

“I’m hurt.” yn said with a faux wounded voice, pressing her palm against her own chest.

“oh, I apologize, please forgive me, I will walk you to your class.” ryujin says dramatically.

.♡♡.

yn’s back at home sitting in room at her desk, doing her homework, her and hyein got into a fight in the car, she can barely remember what it’s about, but she knows hyein definitely remembers, nobody can hold a grudge like that girl.

yn walked down the stairs and sees hyein watching tv, “did you do your homework?”

“yeah.” hyein responds her eyes still on the tv, “what are we having for dinner?” the young girl asks.

“I was thinking about ordering pizza.” yn says picking up her book that she left on the couch the night before, “since dad is gonna be home late.”

hyein eyes lit up, “yes! order pizza.”

yn smiles happy atgt hyein doesn’t seem mad at her, for now

“oh, I gotta put in gas.” yn said letting out a groan, that’s another reason on why she hates driving, the money expense that comes along with it, she’s grateful that her dads a doctor, but what happens when she’s on her own?

“you know.” hyein starts, “if you had a partner, they would drive us around and you wouldn’t with your terrible driving.”

yn ignored that last comment.

“you know, like how aeri would drive us around.” hyein added.

“well, are you gonna find me a significant other you child?” yn asked pushing her sisters head.

“maybe.” is all the younger girl replies with.

.♡♡.

yn was at her locker when aeri came up to her in the morning a look on her face that yn couldn’t really pin point.

“yn, can I talk to you?” the girl asked, she seemed really stressed out which made yn concerned.

“yeah sure.” yn said putting her pink sweater over her tank top, the school has been so chilly lately.

“why didn’t you tell me?” aeri asks.

“what?”

“why didn’t you tell me that you liked me…” aeri trailed off and yn finally took a proper look at her, yn scared her, her eyes stopping at a familiar envelope in aeri’s hand.

this couldn’t be, no way, yn felt like she was gonna throw up, how did that get out? how did this happen what do I do ?

“where did you get that?” was the only thing that could come out of yn’s mouth, she feels herself growing lightheaded, is this what being in shock feels like ?

“I got it in the mail.”

yn let out a big sigh, “just for you to know, this is like very old, very very old.” she says taking it out of aeri’s hand, “like I barely remember what I wrote.”

I wish I could drag my hand through your hair.

yeah totally don’t remember.

I need away to get out of this situation.

“i don’t know yn, this just really threw me off, I mean miyeon breaking up with me and now me finding out that you liked-”

“I have a girlfriend.” yn cuts her off abruptly. shit, why did I say that.

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“who?”

“what?”

“who’s your girlfriend.”

that’s when she comes to yn’s vision, huh yunjin in all her glory, walking down the hallways like she owned the place.

“jennifer huh.” is the first, “huh yunjin!” the ringing of the bell fills the hallway, yn smoothly turns around, “see you later aeri, I gotta go!”

yn does something that you could never imagine someone like her doing, she runs down the hallway and practically launches her self into the taller girls arms, her feet a little above the ground, yunjin raises her brows amused, “yn? what in the-”

she doesn’t answer all the she does is kiss her.

all that goes through her mind is that she hopes aeri is watching or all of that was for nothing.

yn’s heart beats like crazy, this is so not like her, she hasn’t even kissed people like that, but all thoughts leave her mind when she realizes that she’s kissing her back, huh yunjin is kissing her back.

yn opens her eyes and pulls away and yunjin is wearing the same expression on her face that she was wearing before, amused but also confused. “thank you so much.” yn whispers, “your welcome?” yunjin replies still very much confused.

yn untangles herself from yunjins arms and sprints off to the opposite direction.

.♡♡.

yn waits outside of the girls locker room, waiting for yunjin to come out, she’s been wanting to explain this mornings incident all day, it’s the least that she can do.

yunjin was the very last person to come out, her hair was wet and she had an oversized sweater with her jersey number on it, yn couldn’t lie she looked good.

yunjin takes a look at yn and all she says is, “hey.” and doesn’t stop walking.

yn rushes to keep up with the taller girls strides, “so, about this morning.” she laughs awkwardly.

yunjin finally comes to a stop, “oh, yeah what was that about?”

“it was just…” yn trails off, “a prank, a dumb joke.”

“oh, and does it have to do with that letter that I got this morning.” yunjin says crossing her arms, leaning against the wall.

so they all did get out.

“yes, well no, actually yes.” yn stutters out.

yunjin let’s put a deep sign, “look.” she says leaning up from the wall, “I think you’re cute, in a cute dorky way, I don’t know, but me and maya just broke up so…”

yn is flabbergasted, her mouth drops in shock, huh yunjin is letting her down like this?! and what does cute in a dorky way mean? that doesn’t feel like a compliment to yn.

“I mean it’s very flattering.” yunjin continues, “that you’ve liked me for so long but… you know.”

“I do not like you.” yn says very loudly. “so you’ve got no reason to be giving me the letting you down easy thing.”

yunjin looks side to side, before leaning down to yn’s height, “so then why did you kiss me.”

yn let’s out an annoyed sigh, “i kissed you, so someone thinks I don’t like them, and that I like you even though I don’t and I do like them.” yn says like it’s the most understanding thing known.

yunjin looks at her confused.

“you see, my letters got sent out-”

“wait letters as in multiple? how many are there?”

“five-anyway the one that I actually like found out and you can see how bad that might b-”

a light frown comes upon yunjins face“who?”

yn leans back awkwardly, “that’s classified information.”

“I think I deserve to know.” yunjin says giving yn a pointed look, “or I’ll just go on thinking that you’re still obsessed with me.

“aeri uchinaga!”

yunjin furrows her eyebrows, “wait isn’t that girl dating your sister?”

“um, dated past tense.” yn coughs up, “but you can already see how bad that situation is, and I just said the first thing that came to mind and that was you.”

“so you used me to save yourself?”

“yes, exactly.” yn responded before cringing.

but all yunjin does is laugh, “I think I should add funny to cute and dorky list.”

yn glares her eyes at her.

“you know, we should keep this up.”

“what?” she can’t be serious.

“I mean, maya has been going crazy since this morning and it’s nice to see.” yunjin shrugs, “she can realize what she’s missing out on and this can also help you with your situation with aeri.”

“no, no way.” yn said turning around but yunjin grabbed her wrist and turned her back.

“come on.” she dragged out, “it’s a win win, I get show maya what she’s missing and you can do whatever you’re doing with aeri.”

yn just stared at her for a little, something like this could end very bad.

“aeri seemed to believe it this morning.”

that’s what got to yn’s head.

“I’m in.”

.♡♡.

yn sits in her bed, her head in her hands as she listens to ryujin’s voice.

“gosh, I can’t believe you jumped yunjin like a crazy woman and kissed her.” ryujin laughs through the phone, word got around to ryujin about what happened and she called yn immediately to make sure that it was true

“yes I did now shut up or I’m hanging up on you.” yn said embarrassed into the phone but all ryujin did was tease her more, is yn did what she threatened to do, hang up on her.

yn let out sigh and flopped on her back, turning her head towards her door she sees her dad peaking his head through, “I’m gonna be dropping hyein off in the morning since my hours changed and miyeons car is in the shop after you scratch it.”

yn cringed at the memory, “so, you are taking the school bus for now on, yay you!” you dad says before going back into his room.

yn looks up at the light on her ceiling, at least she doesn’t have to drive anymore.

.♡♡.

yn sees yunjin standing in the parking lot beside her car, when she comes off the bus, yunjin raises her hand at the girl, “are you seriously taking that thing everyday?”

yn scrunched her face, thing?, “yes, I am taking the school bus.” yn makes sure to add more base in her voice when she said “school bus.”, “my sisters car is at the shop and my dad can’t drop me off, so I have to take the bus.” yn says nonchalantly, “I mean it’s a win for me I don’t even like driving.”

yunjin let’s out a groan like this is the most offensive thing that someone could say to her, she opens her mouth to say something but decides against it, opting to hold grab yn’s hand and holds it as they walk in lowly muttering, “just walk and look pretty.” to yn

walk and look pretty I can do that yn thinks to herself, I think .

yn side eyes awkwardly as she puts on a smile as yunjin says hi to every person know to earth, how many people does this girl know?, but she has to act natural like her and yunjin are a thing a couple, so she keeps that smile on her face.

yn thought yunjin was done her little meet and greet but she was so wrong, her face dropped when a bunch of yunjin’s teammates come up to them this was starting to get annoying

after yunjin is done talking,yn tries to slip her hand out of yunjins grasp, but the taller girls grip tightened, “your hand is all warm and clammy.” yn hissed at the yunjin.

“I think yours are.” yunjin said through clenched teeth.

yn gave her a “the fuck” face, from what yn knows in her years of living her hands don’t get all warm, sweaty and clammy.

when they get to yn’s locker, yunjin turns yn to face her, and leans in to try and kiss her, out of panic yn raised her pointer finger and let it smush against yunjins lips.

“what the hell!” yunjin says looking at yn’s finger with a concerning amount of anger.

“sorry I panicked!.” yn says, “also don’t sneak up on me like that!, I’m not you.”

“you better lower your voice dummy.” yunjin says pointing her finger in yn’s face before looking around to see if anyone heard yn.

“don’t call me dummy.” yn says crossing her arms, “you dummy.”

yunjin rolls her eyes at yn, it’s obvious she’s annoyed with yn’s behaviour and yn’s about to lecture her how this is yunjin’s fault and not hers, until in the corner of her eyes she sees maya walking down the hallway.

“gotta go!” yn says quickly, speed walking towards the other direction.

.♡♡.

yn sits on yunjin’s desk chair watching the other girl hang up her jersey, yunjin drove yn over to her house after school since they definitely had to go over some ground rules after the fiasco that this morning was.

“I know it’s gonna be you with the ideas and rules so hit me.” yunjin says as she hangs stuff in her closet.

“okay so,” yn says clasping her hands together, “we obviously have to come up with a origin story, how about I was your first kiss-”

“you, my first kiss?” yunjin interrupts, “I think me being yours is definitely more believable.”

yn squeezes her eyes shut for a second before opening them, “I’m gonna pretend like I didn’t get offended by that and continue, so I was first kiss when we were like in middle school and ever since then ive been a thing at the back of your mind.” yn says doing a little wiggle at her idea, “sorta like she fell first and he fell harder but it’s she fell first and she fell harder.”

yunjin stares at yn for while only snapping out of her daze when yn snaps at her. “are you even listening?”

“oh yeah.” yunjin replied shaking her head, “yeah, we can go with that.”

yn clapped her hand excitedly at her idea being approved and yunjin softly smiles at yn’s big smile, “okay, now let’s get to the rules.” yn says opening her backpack and taking out a bright pink notebook.

“you’re writing this down?” yunjin asked in confusion.

“to stay organized.” yn says shrugging her shoulders, doodling little hearts on the page already. “okay, so first rule, we can’t tell anybody that this is fake.”

“duh.” yunjin says before sitting up, “we have to talk about each other like we’re in love and shit when we’re around other people and either me and you aren’t around.”

yn laughs for a second for teasingly saying, “I don’t think I had anything fond that comes to my head when I think about you.”

“you had a lot to say in your letter.” yunjin says lowly.

“I don’t even remember what I said.”

“you said you love how beautiful my big eyes are, and that I have a way of making people feel special.” yunjin said her eyes becoming soft.

yn looks up from the page, “I did didn’t I? wow you were really something back then, huh?

yunjin flinches at the word were.

yn can feel the atmosphere shift, yunjins mood not being the same, “hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine, dude.” yunjins laughs awkwardly sitting on her and pulling the chair that yn’s sitting on closer to her. “let’s get down some more rules, and then I’m gonna drive the princess home to her palace.”

.♡♡.

it’s been about a mouth since yn and yunjin had started “dating.”, and it’s been going well, people believe them, yunjin has been driving yn and hyein to school, everything thing is great.

yn blew her hair out of her face as she rolled the dough, she was making pastries for hyein’s school bake sale, and as the baker in the family it was obvious who the responsibilities of that was going to lay on.

yn dusted off her pink apron that miyeon brought back for her when aeri and her went to japan together, as she hears the doorbell go off.

yn flinches immediately when she opens the door and it reveals, huh yunjin, who bursts out laughing at the sight of yn, she had flour all over her.

“is this a makeup thing?” the athlete asks as she laughs.

yn gives her a an unamused look before she rolls her eyes, “what do you want yunjin?” yn asks as she turns away, heading back to the kitchen and leaving the door open for yunjin to close.

“to pick you up!” yunjin says raising her hands, as yn looks at her in confusion, “to the party, did you read my letter?” yunjin has been writing yn letters daily since that’s something that maya always wanted her to do but she never did.

“I was going to.” yn says defensively as she slaps yunjins hand away from the chocolate chips, “ but I got caught up with this.” she says gesturing to the island that’s filled with baking supplies.

“but you promised that you’d go to my games and parties with me.” yunjin whines leaning against the counter.

“sorry.”

“you know what.” yunjin sits up “hand me an apron, I’m helping you so this can go faster and we can go.”

“wha-”

“you’re not getting out of this one l/n.” yunjin says, “hand me an apron.”

yn sighs defeatedly and turns to get a plain pastel yellow apron from the shelf and hands it to yunjin.

“I want that one.” yunjin says pointing at the one on yn’s body, “no, this is mine.”

“you owe me for not reading my letters.”

“nope.” yn shakes her head, “this is non negotiable, I were this every time I bake it’s like my lucky charm.”

“but if I wear it I’ll be your lucky charm.”

“yeah no.” yn says before going on her tippy toes and putting the apron over yunjin’s head and tied it.

“so, why is this party so important.” yn asks as they both begin.

“it’s important because maya is gonna be there.” yunjin says nudging yn, “this will be the night where I show my girl off to everyone.”

yn tries not be affected by the words, she really does know how to make people feel special.

“you do realize you’re putting my life in danger right?” yn asks dramatically. “maya is a the most jealous person to exist on earth.” yn says as she measures.

“no she isn’t.”

“yes she is, I remember when we were like 8 and I finally got that ken doll that everyone wanted-” yn starts her rant but gets cut off.

“oh, yeah you guys were like bffs.” yunjin teases.

“I wouldn’t say bff…” yn trailed off, she opens her mouth to say something but gets cut off by the front door opening.

“I’m home.” her dad’s voice fills the house, yn looks at yunjin panicked. “oh my gosh, my dad is here.”

“what’s wrong with that?” yunjin asks confused, “because.” is all yn said with a slight whine in her voice.

yunjin throws up her hands confused, she opens her mouth to say something but gets cut off by yn’s dad’s voice.

“yn, are you making th-” he comes to halt when he sees the other party in the kitchen, someone he hasn’t seen since yn was in middle school.

“huh yunjin.” he says pointing at the girl, “look at you all grown up, yn why didn’t you tell me you were getting the gang back together.” yn cringes, “please don’t say that dad.”

“hey dr l/n.” yunjin says smiling at the man, she remembers seeing him sometimes when she and some of the other kids would wait for yn to come outside and play.

“so what are you doing here?” he asks leaning on the counter.

yunjin smirks at yn before looking at the man, “I was actually coming to pick up yn to come with me to a party.” yunjin says completely ignoring the glare from yn.

“oh, really.” he says surprised that his daughter that stays in her room all say is actually going to a party.

yn raises her hands in a motion, “but, unfortunately I can’t go since I’m doing hyein’s bake sale pastries.” yn says happy at her save.

“what, no!” her dad says sitting up, “you should go, me and hyein will finish the pastries, your mom taught be how to make the ones that you’re doing in college.” he says taking the apron off of yn and pushing her towards the stairs, “now, go upstairs and put something nice on.”

yn groans but reluctantly goes up the steps and to her room.

her dad looks at yunjin and raises a brow, “so what? is this a date or friend thing going on here?” he asks bluntly.

yunjin eyes widened at his bluntness, he didn’t seem like he cared that his daughter might be going out with a girl, it was odd and foreign to her since maya’s parents weren’t really the accepting type.

“um, it’s a date thing sir.” she says awkwardly.

“okay.” he said with a straight face, “with that, let’s get down some rules, no drinks no drugs,” he raised up both of his hands, “and no hands.”

“yes sir.”

.♡♡.

yunjin and yn stood outside the big house in front of the front door, “remember what we need to do?” yunjin asks the shorter girl.

“yes, we need to be believable.” yn says nodding, tightening her ponytail.

yn flinches when yunjin brings her hand to her hair and takes the hair tie out of the ponytail that she had it in.

yn looks at yunjin in shock, “why’d you do that?”

“you look prettier with it down.” she shrugs before opening the door and taking yn’s hand.

anxiety strikes yn when she sees the amount of people filling up the big house, this type of setting wasn’t for her and never has been, she looks up and yunjin but all the girl does is squeeze her hand in an attempt of comfort.

to make things worse, yn sees the person that she really wished yunjin was lying about coming, maya.

she’s sitting beside her best friend sora, her eyes burning into yn and yunjin, her hand clenching her drink, before whispering into sora’s ear.

yn subconsciously pushes herself closer into yunjin’s side, she flinches when she hears her name being shouted.

“yn!” sora shouts, motioning for yn to come over, yunjin pushes yn closer to the area where the girls are sitting, mouthing you got this, before walking over to her teammates.

yn shuffles over to the seats and sits beside sora, “hey…” she trails off.

sora gets straight to the point leaning closer to yn, “everyone’s dying to know what’s the story with you and jennifer.”

yn leans back into her seat uncomfortably, this somehow feels like trap for some reason, why would maya and her best friend as her to sit with them anyway?.

“whatever jen said I guess…” she trails off, playing with yunjin’s varsity jacket that she forced yn to wear.

“but we wanna hear it from you?” sora says sitting closer, “it’s always different with the other person’s pov.” she says.

yn hesitantly takes a look at maya who’s still clenching her cup, “it’s okay yn, you can talk about it, I don’t know if you know but I broke up with her.”

yn nods, “that’s what she told me.” even though she already knew from ryujin.

“so when did this start?”

“pretty recently.”

“how recent?” sora presses.

“before school started.”

maya’s eyes light up, “I think you’re relationship is adorable..” she compliments, you can tell it’s fake, “I’m gonna get another drink, do you want anything yn? milk or apple juice perhaps?” she asks with shade.

yn shifts uncomfortably with sora laughs at what maya said, “I would ask for chocolate milk, but yunjin is getting my drink so I’ll be fine.” yn say’s making sure to use the name that people only close to yunjin use.

she smiles in satisfactory when all maya does is roll her eyes and walk to the drink table.

yn gets up from her seat telling sora that she’s gonna go look for yunjin.

she finds yunjin sitting on one of the couches with her friends, yn pauses for second and thinks, what would a girlfriend do?

she walks over and plops down right in yunjin’s lap, who looks up at yn with a mixture of shock and amusement, yunjin’s friends decide to mind their business and talk amongst themselves.

“did you get my drink.” yn smile leaning into yunjin, who nods her head and picks up two drinks from the stand beside them, she hands yn her non-alcoholic drink.

yn takes a sip out of her drink and scrunches her face at the bitterness, “is it supposed to taste so bitter?” she asks adjusting herself in yunjins lap.

yunjins eyes widened and she takes the drink out of yn’s hand, “sorry that’s mine.” she laughs, swapping their drinks and taking a sip of her own.

the rest of the night was filled with yunjin and yn putting on a show of being a couple, and yn trying to hide from maya wrath which amused yunjin.

.♡♡.

yn hummed to the halloween mixtape cd that her dad gave to her from the 90s as she put on her costume.

it was every kid’s favourite day of the year a day where you get to dress up and get candy for free, halloween.

yn was dressing up as nana komatsu, from her favourite anime, she owns the manga and binged watched the show with aeri.

she’s been planning this costume since last summer and she can finally wear it, she wonders if people will recognize who she’s dressed up as, they better. she thinks to herself.

after she’s done getting ready she walks downstairs and picks up an egg tart to munch on while she waits for yunjin to pick her up.

yunjin’s running late, like always, but can yn really complain? at least she’s not driving and good thing her dad dropped hyein off at school early.

yn locks the house door and stands outside to wait for yunjin when she hears a familiar voice, “hey!”

she turns to see aeri in her costume she’s dressed up as nana osaki.

both their mouths drop, both then proceeding to laugh at the coincidence. “oh my gosh, what are the odds?” aeri says still laughing.

“I know.” yn says waking over to the fence where aeri is on the other side on, “great minds think alike.”

“absolutely.” aeri says before pointing behind her at the car in her driveway, “want a ride to school nana?”

yn shots her an apologetic look, “sorry, yunjin is picking me up.”

aeri looks down at the ground for a second before looking back up at yn, “oh, that’s fine, I was just offering.” she backs away from the fence, “see you at school yn.” she says before getting into her car an driving off.

yn let’s out a sigh to herself, that was awkward.

after a couple of minutes yunjin finally shows up.

yn opens the door and sits in the front seat, taking a quick glance at yunjin’s costume, spider man? or spider woman ?

“whoa” yunjin said taking a look at yn’s costume, “you look hot, your what’s her name from that strawberry anime right?”

yn narrows her eyes her, “it’s nana and it’s not about strawberries dummy.” yn then looks at yunjin up and down, “and you’re spider woman?”

“it’s hard to explain.” yunjin says as she turns down the radio, “I’m a girl version of peter parker.”

“basic.” yn coughs out.

“what?”

“nothing.” yn says looking out the window.

“no repeat what you just sai-”

.♡♡.

yn walks over to locker after a school held the costume award assembly, she wasn’t surprised that yunjin’s friend group won best group costume, people like them win every year.

as yn took out her books she felt a presence behind her, she knew who it was immediately.

“congrats on winning.” yn says not even looking at yunjin.

“thanks strawberry girl.” yunjin teases leaning against the locker beside yn’s.

yn opens her mouth to respond but gets cut off by a certain voice.

“hey,nana!” aeri says as she walks past yn with one of her friends.

“hey,nana!” is what yn responds with, a big smile on her face as she watches the girl walk down the hall.

yunjin looks at aeri down the hall and then back at yn before clearing her throat, “you know I don’t appreciate, my supposed to be girlfriend doing a couple costume with someone that’s not me.” yunjin says jealously reeking from her tone.

“it was coincidental.” yn says defending both herself and aeri.

“but still.” yunjin whines, “this looks bad on me.”

yn rolls her eyes at the girls antics, “what do you want me to do, quickly pop by the halloween store get an unrealistic red wig and be your mj.”

“could you do that?” yunjin asks, “cause that would be great?”

“no!” yn says, “because guess what? I worked to hard on this costume for it to be ruined by your jealousy, I didn’t spend hours on FaceTime with my sister while she was in japan in thrift stores getting me this outfit.”

it was yunjin’s turn to roll her eyes at your dramatics, “can you at least think about it.”

“yunjin!”

“what?”

“you are such a baby.” yn laughed

“I’m not, it’s just tell me that isn’t weird.” yunjin crossed her arms.

“okay, how about to make you feel better, you tag along with me to take hyein trick-or-treating and after when she goes to bed me and you can watch a movie.”

yunjin raised a brow at the offer and decided to push more, “a horror movie?” she asked smiling she knew you hated them.

you let a groan, “yes a horror movie.”

“invitation excepted.” yunjin smiled.

#lesserafim x reader #le sserafim #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin #yunjin imagines #girl group imagines #yunjin fluff #yunjin angst

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