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dropsofletters · 1 year

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flowers willingly die [yjh]

summary: each morning for their anniversary, jeonghan saw his dad give his mom a bouquet of roses. she never paid much attention to them, but he did. knowing fairly well that they died while bathing in the sun, packed in a half-full water glass. to him, that is what flowers meant. timely beauties that he adores from afar.

so, while travelling the world, he compared a lot of things to that vacant feeling, but he had never given a bouquet of flowers to someone.

not until he had seventy-two hours to spent with someone he liked.

title: flowers willingly die pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader genre: pilot!au ; guitarist!au ; small town!au ; strangers to hook-ups!au ; slice of life!au type: angst ; fluff ; drama word count: 7k approx. note: this is a request from my ko-fi! if you want to support me and write something for your fave, please do request over there!

Laughable are the tips of his fingers, freezing red, holding onto a ‘margarita’ that no one dares order in Dorothy street. Men here are booming voices, bumping fists on tables filled with whiskey glasses that half-empty themselves before they are off to another one. Quite like their wives, waiting at home with children that will grow to be just as bored of the sinking ships and the freezing summers that never meet the light of the day. It’s surprising that a man like him arrives at such a place, and she can’t say that she’s not a little bit intrigued.

With a suit that fits his slim legs like a second skin and a pair of shoulders that beg to be held on, she lets her calloused fingers trail on her guitar, plucking a few strings, imagining the soundtrack of him. Roaring screams and mermaid lullabies is what she is used to imagining in her songs, but that face is one of a man that has never done half of the work that people in her town do. Word has it that he’s a pilot; high nose, long strands of black hair, and a pout on his lips that, frankly, is quite kissable if she does say so herself.

He’s the booze after a break-up. The decision that no one wants to make, and when he sends a smile that is worth a million diamonds to the woman by the counter serving him another stupid drink that will probably be too expensive for the matters that he wants to partake in, she knows that he’s trouble.

She plays for the little pennies that she earns, trying to play it off as if she’ll be something bigger. It’s her and her guitar, and a few men that have only broken her heart. Her ex-boyfriend is still on her contact list, fresh off a new start as she revises every once in a while to check if he has texted again. The big surprise that isn’t really so is that he hasn’t, so the fickle heart of a musician stares at that pilot a little too long, basking on the face of another person. Someone much different from the men here and their small brains, their big muscles, their terrible idealization of a woman to be that. Pretty little skirts, flirty smiles and then, a goddamned wife.

He must be freezing, but he doesn’t show it that night. She’s wrapped up to the core, with a beanie covering the tip of her ears and her fingertips rubbing on the guitar every once in a while to stop the cold from seeping through. His black suit is thin enough to let her imagine the worst when he approaches her, sipping on his drink and lulling his head to the side when he takes a seat next to her on the stage that no one looks at.

She’s played in this bar for the past three years and no one has ever sat beside her. Not unless it was her ex-boyfriend, pretending that he was interested in what she was trying to make her life out to be.

“It’s been a while since I’ve actually heard live music, you know?” The pilot encounters, spreading his legs and letting the glass lull in between his thighs. “I don’t think I even remember what a guitar sounds like in person.”

“You’re missing out on life, then.” She responds, though she quirks an eyebrow in the process. “Though that’s detectable on the fact that you’re drinking whatever New York housewives drink in a place that seethes sweat and whiskey.”

He chuckles, the tips of his ears growing red, the few strands of his hair that still hold onto the gel that he had applied probably earlier on the day moved by the action of his hands. “You’re calling me a weak drinker?”

“Rather different, I’d say.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not really. Tired of seeing the same things around here.” She comments, biting on that side of her lip that had been scalded by the coffee that she had earlier this morning and perhaps, it’s a bit swollen, because he looks down at her mouth and smiles wider. Trouble, she says. “Though a pilot like you has probably seen plenty of things. Had the greatest of drinks, too.”

“I’ve seen enough of the world to know that it’s both pretty and so…dark, too.” He shrugs, wetting his lips with his margarita. “The nature that I see will die someday, and the skies are so tall that I can’t reach them even when I’m close. That’s deep, now that I say it, but it must be the alcohol getting to the little brain cells I have left.”

She laughs at his antics, licking her lips and thinking a bit about it. If life was so ugly, and so short at the same time, why did we pursue it as if it lasted forever? Why did pain haunt us so badly, starting with heartbreak, if it was only…a matter of time before we disappeared with it?

“I like that. As dark as it is, it’s real.” She continues plucking on the strings, jutting her chin forward. “I imagine you’ve heard better musicians, but I can play any song you can think of.”

“No way.” He counterparts, only to have her sighing.

“Never doubt a woman from this side of town. What I tell you is the absolute truth.” And yet, no one has ever taken her seriously. Those four walls that consist of the cramped town at the seashore of the beach are starting to get too cramped, and this new addition may be just what she needed.

“Photograph by Ed Sheeran?”

“Too easy.”

“I may be a little of a cliché.”

“Unimaginable.” She rolls her eyes, letting a small giggle out. “Who am I dedicating it to? Any wife back home that you miss?”

He shakes his head, pressing a hand to his cheek and looking at her with a lulled look in his eyes, as if extremely in peace with the place he finds himself in. “To Jeonghan.”

“Oh, a husband?”

“Damn no.” The pilot excuses. “It’s my name. I’ve never had a song dedicated to me.”

“Pure lies.” Though she starts playing the tune of the song, only for the two of them to be heard, as if those two connected pair of eyes create an island that only them can visit and travel through.

“I’m not a liar.”

“What man isn’t?”

“You’d be surprised.” Jeonghan licks his lips, painted in the sweetest red shape, chapped because of the cold, and she lets herself be taken by the music, seeing him take small sips of his drink and hum along to the tune.

He asks for one more song.

Then another one.

Finally, another.

Hours spent singing in between the two, sharing drinks, smiles, eyesights that could be confused with anything and everything. It feels nice to be looked at, cherished in a way, treated as though she is special. How easy it is to forget in these positions that at a first instance, we show the best of us. Attraction makes us act in such a way as human beings, but Jeonghan, for that night, seems truthful.

A flower begins to bloom then.

Brown. So brown she could drown, with speckles of stars that gleam and mirror the sight of her, with her hair a mess and scattered on the hotel pillow on the second day of his stance. She’s not naked, god forbid that she is, but she could very-well be by the way he looks at her, with pupils dilated and his smiles mixing with little kisses shared in between sighs and calls of her name.

She had only fallen for brown eyes. The significance of them is rather interesting, if she remembers what Grandma Lore used to say back when she worked at a little music shop. The old woman had passed away four years ago, but her stories had stayed with the town. She said that eyes, in ancient times, were the meaning of a person’s soul in their past life. Those who got their heart broken plenty of times had darker eyes, while lighter eyes were saved for first-love owners and heartbreakers themselves. Quite believable, granted that Grandma Lore’s ex-husband had light blue eyes and had left her and their four daughters alone for a one-night stand.

Brown eyes meant trouble when they were accompanied by a rough voice, but she can’t think. Not when she feels herself being kissed this way. She’s used to the impatience, the short kisses, the ‘it’s better not to leave this behind’ kiss that promises that everything will be alright, but there’s no excitement within them. She knows how she got here, with a little booze on their system and the rays of sunshine that slip through the cracks of the window of his hotel room giving them another day to fuck things up with feelings. Feelings that come with touch.

Jeonghan is exciting to look at, but even when she looks at him, bruises his lips in little kisses and intakes of breaths when she feels him trail down to her neck before going up to her cheeks again, never getting too far, she knows that he’s not him. He’s not that ex that she looks forward to meeting every single day, the man that is so close, somewhere in these dull streets and yet, somehow so far away.

It feels like cheating, but then she looks at the phone that she laid on the bedside table, she hears Jeonghan calling her name and then, it feels like loneliness. This man doesn’t know her, and the man who does isn’t interested enough to call her again, so she presses a hand to his chest, her other palm resting on his nape and turning them around until her thighs look for leverage on his slim waist, undoing two buttons of his shirt and splaying her freezing fingertips on the warm skin.

“Tell me you think I’m beautiful.” The plea sounds pathetic, but it’s been a while since she has heard it. She can only imagine that his eyes mirror his own, vacant of feelings, thrilled and excited by a new face, but not feeling anything else. Though, it is gorgeous when he rests a hand on her back and replies in a lingering breath:

“I’d be blind if I didn’t think you’re absolutely gorgeous.” Jeonghan says those words like he means it and she relishes on them. On being gorgeous, accepted, craved for and thirsted after. She feels like a ray of sunshine, not the lukewarm moonlight that she had been painted as the past few years.

With more fervor, she clings onto the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“We don’t have to keep doing anything if you don’t want to.” Jeonghan retorts. “We can go anywhere you want. A few more kisses, or no kisses at all. I’m okay with anything.”

She blinks back possible tears, masking it with a tender kiss to his lips. How nice it would be to have someone that looked for her, that seeked that delicate touch in the middle of the night when nightmares of losing her were taking over his sleep. But Jeonghan is not that, just a nice card to play pretend with, and she feels bad for even thinking that way.

Picking the bottle of wine up, stolen from the bar in Dorothy street, she takes a sip of it before chuckling softly. At herself, really. “I’m okay with kissing, is that okay with you?”

“More than perfect for me.” Though, Jeonghan licks his lips, tracing her own with his thumb and then, opening her mouth slightly. “When was the last time someone called you beautiful?”

“Huh?”

“You seemed relieved to hear it when I told you just a few minutes ago.”

She can’t hide it from him and perhaps, that’s why Jeonghan flies planes. He’s so ahead and above every other man that it’s surprising. “It’s been a few months.”

“I understand.” Jeonghan grabs the back of her neck, pulling her closer to tug at her bottom lip before marking it with a chaste kiss. “I’ve seen the stars from up close and they can’t compare to you.”

It’s a lie. Of course, she knows it’s a goddamned lie, but it sounds so good. Jeonghan is a midnight getaway, the reason why she feels at ease in his arms, letting herself be embraced, touched, caressed. He doesn’t know that her pupils darken not because of him, but because she wants him to look through them and know that her heart is begging not to be broken again.

Brown eyes, maybe Jeonghan had been broken, too.

Haven’t we all?

Jeonghan knows he only has forty-eight more hours in this place and yet, he wakes up a little earlier than expected today just to go buy fucking flowers. Yes, he’s surprised himself. He hasn’t ever bought flowers, not even for his place back at home because he rarely stays there, but it seems like the right thing to do today.

The whispers of the wind touch his ears and remind him that he should’ve gotten a thicker coat to go outside, but after he dropped her off at her place yesterday when it was a little too late in the morning, and yet not foreseeable with how dark these skies are in this town, he knew precisely where to get her. Seated in her front porch, on a rusty chair that shrieks whenever she pulls herself forwards and backwards, with her guitar in her lap, a coffee cup on the side that has lost its steam and a notebook that she barely touches.

Her hair is a mess, but he waits for the moment when she has to refill her cup to get out of the old car that he rented just because he wanted to feel like he had some control while staying where the Devil forgot to visit. She gets up, extending her arms and giving a glimpse of the waist he dared touch yesterday, curves of sin that would never be his, covered in a plaid shirt soon after when she slips back home.

He places the bouquet on top of her guitar, ripping a paper from the notebook and grabbing her a-little-too-short pencil before jotting down a few words that he barely thinks about. Jeonghan knows that they are an impossibility, that even if he stayed in this town, the rooted insecurity that grows from within her speaks of a heart that has been tainted by too much hope and too little results, but he still writes it. Because that’s what cowards don’t do; try even when there are no outcomes to be expected.

He rushes back to his car, though he’s certain he hears her calling out his name in a shout while rushing to the automobile. He sits there, smiling at her through the dirty mirror only to see her quirk a hand up that accompanies a wave of her eyebrows. Then, he juts his chin forward, pointing to the obvious until she sees it. The bouquet, which she seems too scared to hold as her hands hover into nothingness.

Maybe, this town was too small to see how big her smile could get, or she had never been one to make the right choices. Perhaps, that’s why a talent like hers goes undiscovered. Because she never took the time to listen to anything more than the deafening silence that welcomes a place that doesn’t know about talent. She grabs the flowers in between her hold, looking at them with what he thinks is a lonesome tear grabbing onto her bottom eyelashes not to drop. Soon after, she’s grabbing the note and looking at him with a crooked smile on her face.

It reads, “A shooting star told me they were envious of how pretty you look today. XOXO, Han.”

She grabs her notebook soon after, scribbling onto a page and then, turning the image towards him. He reads quickly, after pressing his face to the steering wheel to hide the blossoming cheeks from both embarrassment and a little bit of cold.

In enormous letters that are not as pretty as her smile, she responds: “Watch them with me tonight, then.”

He raises both thumbs in the air, though she crooks her arm to call him towards her. The car suddenly becomes less interesting as he moves over to where she is, every step falling on crumbling leaves that try to stop him but he can’t. He wraps his arms around her waist, just like how he learned that drives her crazy, and he kisses her. Because not knowing each other is what makes this easier. Knowing that there won’t be a fight that will ruin it all or a ceiling that unites them both with the strings of their hearts, makes a kiss so much easier. Lighter. Better than anything he has ever had.

“You like coffee, I imagine.” She prompts, only to have him nodding.

“I prefer breakfast with it, though.”

“You’re not pretty enough to start ordering me around, you know that Jeonghan, right?”

“A man can always try.” He prompts, though he presses a lonesome index finger to her ribcage before tickling there. That smile could heal hearts and stop wars if she damn so wanted to. “I will help you make breakfast, because judging by your face I imagine that you haven’t eaten much.”

“You’re not wrong.”

She plucks a rose away from the bouquet, twirling it in her fingers before placing it on top of his ear. She moves his black hair away from a moment, fixing it until it stayed still before smiling softly at him.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never gotten flowers?”

Yes, he wants to tell her. The bleeding parts of her soul tell him so. “It’s a shame you haven’t.”

“Well, there’s always a first time.”

And a last with him, too.

A woman in love has such a recognizable face. It’s one of those features that Jeonghan will never forget. Not when seated on a picnic cloth under the moonlight, near the beach-shore that he had avoided at all costs. Not a lot of people are around, but a bonfire nearby had been enough to take her attention away from him and pull away from the hold he had around her shoulder.

Vacant, but he felt the paddering of her chest. He could have heard it, too, but her void glance still looked toward the man sitting by the bonfire, with a beer in his hand and a palm through his hair. He’s seated in between two women, not too close, not too far away, but he watches her mouth tense when she sees them. At first, she brings her knees up to her chest, then she unravels them and spreads them behind her. She does this various times, not finding comfort. Not in him, not in the man she’s clearly in love with, not in herself.

He looks fickle. Small, skinny, with a wide smile and somehow, that easy-going personality that he knows is eating her alive. He turns her back to her, this stranger, that is, and that kills her. She’s not up her feet, but watching far away instead, blinking softly before looking down and smiling at herself. A smile so big and beautiful that Jeonghan knows it’s an absolute lie.

“I’ll tell you something,” Jeonghan professes, rubbing the tip of his nose and then, blowing a sigh into the dense air. “I’ve loved kissing you from the moment you granted me permission the first time. It’s nice, you know, we both know that we can’t promise each other much…but every time you get closer to me, it feels like you are feverish to get rid of her thoughts. Like you are a second away from moaning someone else’s name against my mouth.”

Those idle eyes widen like the moon in its fullest form, and he really looks at her for longer than he should. Such a beautiful woman should not be suffering from a man that is too busy ignoring her. “I’m sorry. Gosh, Jeonghan, that must feel awful.”

It does, but also: “It doesn’t.”

“I…We broke up a few days before you came here. I…It’s difficult, you know?” She questions herself, licking her lips and then, looking up at those stars in which she belongs. “This town is so small that I expect to see him at every second and a small portion of me wishes that when his gaze lays on me, Jeonghan, he just…thinks about what he missed out on. That he remembers how small he made me feel and suddenly compares the woman he made me to whom I used to be and just weeps on wanting me back.”

She stops then, looking at him with a foreseeable shame before she whispers.

“And it’s awful. God, I feel pathetic just telling you how I want him to crave for me, but I spent months just wanting him to look at me. Getting ready. Applying that lipstick shade I know he likes. Spreading a perfume that gave me a headache just ‘cause I wanted to be remembered.”

“Men don’t work like that.” Jeonghan responds. “I don’t think anyone does, really. The more you crave for someone, the less the universe gives them to you. Because humans are polar opposites, not manifestation tactics.”

She scoffs. “Oh, trust me, I know. It’s just the stupid part of me that wants a reaction, because he couldn’t even give me that.”

His hand spreads on her waist, kissing her temple and at that moment, he feels her shake. Because that’s what had been done to her. Tainted, broken, left behind, scared of being touched in a way that feels utterly romantic or safe. “I’d give you everything in the few hours we have left.”

She chuckles. “I hate lies, Jeonghan. I’ve been told too many of those.”

“I’m not lying to you. We can be everything in so little and then, be nothing at all for each other. It’s the feelings you hold, even if it’s just for a second.”

“It’s easier for you to let go,” She assumes, as he has learned she does often. “You’re on a plane, away from this stupid town, looking ahead of everybody. Making stops, just living…”

“Living, leaving, sounds about the same but it hurts just as much. Do you think I enjoy knowing that at the end of the day I have nobody? Because everywhere I go there are hundreds of people I meet, but they are just hundreds of more people that don’t give a shit about who I am, who I will be or else.”

“That’s a way to put it.” Her hand spreads across his cheek, sighing. “These hours we have left may feel like a lifetime if we let it.”

“Not really. I feel like they’ve passed by rather quickly, if you ask me.”

“The best moments pass like that.”

But he’ll never be him, and for some reason, he’s okay with it. His lips spread across her own, hearing a few voices from afar, but he doesn’t care when he pulls away and he sees her with her eyes closed yet, as if relishing on it. Trying her hardest to forget. Only a few more hours left and he won’t see this face again.

Another kiss will do to remember her taste.

Four years later.

Moving around should feel like a task. It is, actually. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, looking at the notebook in her lap and questioning the lyrics she wrote for the demo that the agent had been interested in. Her flight to New York feels a little eternal, if she’s certain, and it gives space to her mind to start thinking about how horrid the lyrics were. Talking about drunk goodbyes and an ex-boyfriend that is sadly most of the meaning behind her songs.

The plane-ride feels eternal, as well, and so much different from the gray skies that she is used to seeing. She moves her feet, swinging them as if she’s a child waiting for lunch, licking at the inside of her cheek and closing her notebook. Alright, it should be good enough. Now, the only thing she can think about is going to the bathroom.

The stripes of her gray and white sweater twirl with every heavy step she gives, as if she doesn’t really want to move forward in life. The future is as scary as a movie can get, and she’s not ready for her to notice that it’s an inherent reality. She ignores the people around her; the snores and the soft music, pushing the curtains away and coming face to face with the bathroom, only for her to get a glimpse of the pilot.

Through the numerous buttons and mirrors on the board, she can see the reflection of a man she knows a little, not well enough, but a reminder nonetheless. The strands of black hair she had held onto when kissing him are much shorter, covered by the hat from his uniform. His coat lays on the backrest of his chair, speaking softly with the older man by his side.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Or how he liked to have her calling him: Han.

The first thing she does is open the door to the bathroom and lock herself up as if she just saw a monster itself. Truth be told, coming face to face with glimpses of her past is a little embarrassing, no matter how long or short the stories were. It’s something that most people should feel. How does one react when a person has caressed every crevice of your mouth with their tongue? It’s a little personal, if she does say so herself.

But then comes the warmth that came with him. She wouldn’t want to say that she has healed completely, lacking trust in herself and others, but Jeonghan holds that kind of power with him. He feels like the world has stopped and she has no need to run away. He’s a bird in the air, flying aimlessly, just holding onto the thread of knowing everything will be alright at the end. Not letting sadness or loneliness stop him.

Hence, after peeing she starts thinking of the million ways she could make a fool of herself. She could greet him once the plane arrived with a kiss, and he could move away. She could say ‘hello’ and he would be unable to recognize her. God, does he even remember her? Does he know that she keeps the flowers that he gave her trapped in between the pages of the lyric notebook she completed years ago and she sees it every December 16th to remember when she met him?

The flight comes to an end and she rushes out of it as purpose overflows her. Perhaps, her perseverance is both her greatest and worst personality trait. She goes to the airport with her hair done a mess, hunting for flowers until she finds some faux ones, returning to the plane at the same time that the captains were getting off board.

Then, he comes face to face with her. High cheekbones, rosy lips, and cheeks that are not as red as how they were in the cold December nights they spent together. It would have been great if Jeonghan was the one to break her heart, because something tells her that he wouldn’t have. Perhaps, the matinee of their relationship would have ended in the two of them just growing apart, but great friends nonetheless. He wouldn’t make her feel as if she was unworthy of love.

“Han.” She breathes out the nickname and Jeonghan raises his eyebrows. He’s surprised to see the bouquet of roses in her hold, and how she gives it to him with her eyes half-closed. “Long time no see.”

“Indeed.” Though he does smile like he did at those times, as if he had never changed, even four years later. He looks different in a better lighting, even more beautiful than she remembers, but when she looks at how his long digits wrap around the bouquet of flowers, something catches her attention.

Diamonds are promises, she had once heard someone say, and while Jeonghan’s band doesn’t have pearls or diamonds, it’s such a pretty gold that it steals her breath away. He’s engaged. Yoon Jeonghan has found love even when high in the air.

“I’m surprised you’re here in New York. Wouldn’t take you for much a traveller.”

He had moved on, and somehow, she’s not bitter about it. She’s angered that she hadn’t been brave enough to get on a plane and say ‘fuck it’, perhaps being the one that moved on herself. She nods.

“I have this small opportunity of recording an album after sending some demos out. Gotta sing for an agent in a record label and see where that leads.”

“Damn!” Jeonghan expresses, laying the bouquet of flowers on one of his arms like a baby before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and smiling against her hair. “I can’t wait for the moment I hear your songs on the radio.”

“Yes.” She answers, pulling away from him and grabbing his hand to trace the ring. “I could write something for your wedding when it happens. Doesn’t look much like a wedding ring just yet.”

Jeonghan cackles, looking down at his hand and smiling gleefully. A fool in love, he had turned out to be, and what a beauty it is to see that he had found someone that was willing to fly oceans and skies just to see him.

“That’d be awesome. I’d dance the shit out of that song.”

But not with her.

It’s never with her, isn’t it?

So with a curt nod and a smile, she lets go of his hand. As it should. “I’ll keep it in mind. I’ll go grab my luggage before someone steals it, okay? It was nice seeing you, Han.”

“Nice seeing you, too.”

Two years later.

With a bottle of champagne propped to her lips and a crowd of cheering fans waiting for her outside at the avenue she will be playing in, she feels a lot lonelier than she should. There is still a man that doesn’t look her way seated a few feet away, trapped in his phone and taking pictures of the enormous gifts she had received from people all around the globe that can’t stop listening to her songs and falling in love with whom they think she is.

She’s ready to get on stage, her guitar oiled up and her gears still turning after boozing herself up the slightest, but even with so much love around her, she knows her wounds still haven’t healed. No one looks her in the eyes, neither do they touch the portions of her heart that feel the loneliest. She’s gorgeous to the people around her, cladded in dresses much too expensive and makeup that makes her look like anyone but herself. Everyone wants to be her friend, her lover, they are discreetly envious of the relationship she has had in the past two months and how the newest it model is in love with her now.

And yet, every bouquet of flower that she receives just withers. Dies willingly, as if to express just that detail is timely, and there is nothing that she hates more than how short ‘forever’ truly is. She will lose all of this someday, and the fear of that thought alone has her standing up and grabbing her guitar, foregoing the bottle of champagne and moving away from backstage to get to talk through her songs.

Though, she stops by the door, turning around and pressing a hand to her waist. It’s Valentine’s Day and Hyuk, her boyfriend, hasn’t looked her way for more minutes than the ones they spent doing it in the bathroom. That’s what she is, just another body for people to look at.

“Did you get me anything?”

The question is a bit superficial, she knows it, but maybe the answer would be something more than empty kisses and posed pictures. It could be a letter from the bottom of his heart or a comparison to the stars.

Hyuk lifts his squared chin, shaking his heart as a laugh racks his body. “We have more than enough for us to celebrate with thanks to your fans.”

“But what about you?”

“Sorry baby.” Though the apology is as empty as it can get. “Maybe, some other time I can think of something to give you?”

Maybe, it’s a pattern in her. It could be her fault, for all she knows, that she always picks the wrong men. Or it could be the universe that never gave her the chance to meet a good man for more than a few days. People passing by, faces to be forgotten, and a heart that will never be mended all partake in the same voice as she gets on stage and sings her heart out.

The crowd goes crazy. She smiles. And it’s all a fucking lie.

Seven months later.

Jess looks gorgeous in the morning, and Jeonghan doesn’t get to see that sight often, with his back pressed to the counter as he sees her wear that same summer dress that she had thrown over her body on their first date. Her recently dyed red hair falls over her shoulders in messy waves, lips dry and barely painted in a bit of pink as she cuts off the old flowers that had grown in their garden.

“I don’t like that you cut the flowers.”

“They’re already dying, babe, and they will only stay as weeds.” She replies, dirtying her knees with sweat pooling at her forehead. Though, the pair of garden scissors she is using glides on the root of the rose she had been cutting, smiling at him with her plump lips. “You’re a little too fond of flowers.”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Dad always gave them to my mom on their anniversaries and she never paid much attention. I liked taking care of them before they rotted.”

Jess stands up at that moment, getting closer to him with a bouquet of dead flowers in between her fingers. She gets closer to him, looking straight into his eyes, for she’s a bit taller than him, before she takes one of the flowers from the bouquet.

“Reason as to why you always give me flowers.”

“Indeed. You wear them in your dresses often enough for me to know that you love them.”

His wife chuckles at those words, slipping a flower over his ear and giving him shivers all around his arms and back. It’s like he is thrown back to that haunted town near the beach, when a woman that deserved more love than she got slipped a flower into his hair and looked at him as if he was the most gorgeous person in this world. Perhaps, for that moment alone, he was.

“And yet, you’ve never gotten a bouquet of flowers yourself. I may start to think about giving them to you as a gift.”

He doesn’t tell her that he has, wrapping an arm around her waist and hiding his face on her neck. He smells her scent, just like flowers, and yet, his mind goes back to the bouquet he had gotten. To this day, he brings one of those fake flowers with him on the plane, just to know that flowers willingly die each day.

But some are memories that never leave us.

She never leaves him. Not in her songs, and not in the flowers.

playlist: prickled - mino ft taehyun. ojos marrones - lasso. august - taylor swift. older - 5sos ft sierra deaton. can i be him? - james arthur. back to december - taylor swift. hello tutorial - zion.t ft seulgi. the one - taylor swift. boyfriends - harry styles. love of my life - queen. glimpse of us - joji.

#jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen #kpop scenarios #writing #seventeen au #jeonghan au #jeonghan angst #seventeen angst #pilot!au #slice of life #guitarist!au

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your-favorite-bi-theater-kid · 1 year

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Soooo it’s been awhine

Hi guys! I know it been a while but my life has been really fucking crazy! I’ve been working really hard on stories for wattpad and I wanted to update you on the stranger things x child reader story which I can say will NOT be continuing. I recently reread it and wanted to cry over how bad it is! I do plan on writing Harringrove and Steddie stuff but I am currently working on Memory a Saiouma story that is on my wattpad and I had yet to put it on my AO3 account. I’m so happy to be back and I will be trying to update you guys more!

now enjoy my art 😊

I know they’re not that good but I’m really proud of how far I have come! Also write in the comments what books you guys are reading I just finished “Dorothy Must Die” by Danielle Paige, which was So Good! I just started the last book in the lunar chronicles “Winter” by Marissa Meyer and it’s soooo good and might be my favorite in the series! If you guys want I’ll do book reviews!

I’ll see you all tomorrow!

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wickedwritersarewe-blog · 7 years

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Imagine: Nox watching you die (Dorothy Must Die)

#dorothy must die #dorothymustdie #dorothymustdie nox #dorothy must die x reader #Wizard of Oz #wicked will rise #wickedwritersarewe #end of oz #yellow brick war #danielle paige #amy gumm #nox #gifs from final fantasy 15

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decadentenemyturtle · 3 years

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The Great Unknown

Part 23

Words: 2499

Pairing: Thorin x Reader

The previous chapter of The Grat Unknown

You had heard many kind of stories in your short life, starting from your favourite of Beauty and the Beast to your dear friend Emma slaying her first dragon. And these were not just stories. These were someones history, something that had actually happened. But still, when someone told them to you, they were just like stories. They felt like stories, not something that actually happened to someone.

Your mother, Regina, used to tell you stories every night, even when you were an adult. She even told you about her past, about the bad things she had done. When you were a kid, many people told you stories, like Mary-Margaret, David (when you asked him nicely and looked like sad, kicked orphan puppy), Granny (when ever you were visiting her little restaurant and if she just had time to tell you something), Bell (even when she rarelly told you that much), captn Hookey the drunken master of thee salties waters of them all (he, and only he could tell the most captivating stories from the seas), Emma (with her glumsy way of just saying that she did, because duh, why not), grandpa Rumple and your brother Henry. The last two were your absolute favorite story tellers. Grandpa Rumple had seen so much in his life and he had his own style to tell things, both good and bad side, and he was being honest about them. And Henry was an natural story teller. He could captive anyone while tellings his stories. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was THE writer.

You had heard too meny stories to count in your life. You knew about war, dragons, ogers, Shrek and Fiona, one true love, the typical Disney story telling of any "good 'n evil" shite, how everything wasn't just as you thought it would be. And yet none of it was quite your story. You were just you, nobody, some sort of an side character of a story.

Yea, you were a daughter of mayor of Stoorybrooke, Regina Mills, and her husband Robind the Hood (infamous steal from the rich and give to the poor -guy), but still, you were not quite their daughter. They had adpoted you, when you were just few weeks old. You had two older brother's, or half brother's, or whatever, Henry and Roland. Your aunt was an evil... sorry, wicked green witch from OZ, who now days was a white which from the Wester OZ, godmother of Dorothy (one of your friends). Your "grandpa" was the infamous Rumplestiltskin, or Rumple for a short, his wife Bell referred rather to be called aunt ("I'm too young to be called a grandma. Sorry, honey") and their son, Gideon, was like a cousin to you. You had a few uncle's from your father's group called Merry Men. Every single one of them called you a princess, and refused to call you in any other name, even when you were a grown up woman threatening to stick a tree in their ass.

Too much information yet? Not too comblicated?

Yeah...

That was your story, your history. Comblicated shaite in a fairytale city, where people ran around killing dragon's, defeating evil beings and what not, while your life was protected and utterly boring. You were not allowed to do anything. Many pople, like the people mentioned earlier, took care of that.

And then came the day, when you could choose the college, or what you wanted to do with your life. You wanted something different, something... well, normal. So, you applied for few different universities. And a new path opened to you, in New York city, when you started your studies as a photographer. Capturing the world from afar and showing it to the world felt like your thing, and far too much something you had done pretty much your whole life; Watching the world from afar while it went on and while you did nothing to it.

Anyhow. After the life you had lived, even after your parent's had decided to move in NY to "have some own time", you felt like a normal photographer, who loved capturing peoples lives in a picture and go on a longer trips with your partner to photograph nature and animals. Your life was normal, perfect and you truly felt like yourself for the first time.

And then you had visited your parent's apartment one afternoon... And the fight that had followed... And then, everything you knew had changed. You didn't know if it was an irony or not, but it seemed that even you had more in your backstory than just regular, boring life. Just, the funny thing was that, you didn't remember a thing what happened to you these past few millenium or so in your life here in Arda.

So, who are you going to blame when you had laughed for the story you had heard from the Blondy, aka Legolas, son of Thranduil, prince of Mirkwood.

"Many things have I heard in my short lifetime, but not a story like this! And when it is suppose to include me!" you laughed drily. You had priefly mentioned to these two elves, that the city you were from was full of stories of heroism and dragons and war and things like that, but how you had never been involved any of those things, even when your mother was a mayor, or the leader of the city, as these two didn't quite understand what a mayor was.

"It still is your past, whatever you remember it or no. When aunt Sarael sent your fea to safe, you must have forgotten your life in here" Legolas said, glancing at you sadly. You three were half jogging, half walking towards the Big lake in front of the Lonely Mountain.

You did feel bad for not remembering, or even knowing what was suppose to be your history, if all what you had just heard was really your history, or if people were just misunderstood and your capability to turn into an animal was just Gandalf's magic's doing. Anyhow, this was your life now, being a daughter of an elf Glorfindel and Guradian-Maian Sarael, a skin changing protects of all Arda. And, apparently, Beorn was some sort of an kin to you. Legolas wasn't sure how, but apparently all the skin changer's were some sort of an descant of your blood line.

"Well, may it be so then. But I do apologie for not remembering anything, or you for the matter" you sighed. To be honest, you felt bad for not remembering and being sure, if this elf was indeed your cousin. You wished there was a way to remember things, but magic and brains had their ways, and therefor, you had no change of just remebering things. Something needed to happend to trigger your memory, and erase the magic blocking your memory. And there was a slight change that you would ever remember your previous life in these lands.

Legolas only sighed, and said nothing. He knew it wasn't your fault of losing your memories of this world. But, Legolas seemed to be sure that you were his cousin. And, then you frowned. He might claim to be your cousin, but the little facts he had given to you to think over and to believe these theories were just that, theories. He seemed to put much weight over the fact that you could only change your form to an animal. For all he knew, it might actually be Gandalf's magic that had caused this to you, not the fact that you were his cousin.

"Hey, Legolas, can I ask you something?" you asked as you followed the two elves down the river. "How do you know I'm your cousin? Do I look like her, or is there something that reminds me of her?" For now there hadn't been any sight of orcs, but Legolas and Tauriel could spot easily marks of a battle. The bodies of dead orcs were dead give away of that, and even you could easily quess that there had been a figt. Which meant that the dwarves and the orcs had had a battle, until the bodies and other sights stopped. Which only meant that rather the company was dead or the orcs had lost sight of the dwarves, or the orcs were all dead.

And after few minutes the prince of Mirkwood decided to answer you. He stopped over a rock, watching a little beach below with a frown. You and Tauriel stopped next to him, you looking up to the blondy.

"I knew her as if she was my sister. You remind me of her; You are shorter than her, but your hair color, facial features, laugh and smile, and...." Legolas stopped and turned to look at you, with a small smile "Above all, your fea is exactly same and as bright and lively and full of life as hers. And there is no possibility to someone have same kind of fea as other has. Even twins share different kind of feas, even if they look similar to eachother" You swalloved, turning your gaze shily from his. So, you did remind Legolas of this girl.

"I... I wish I could remember" you said, still staring at the river. You didn't need to look at the two elves to know that they were looking at you with pity. "I want to remember. Everything. To find a way to remember, or even know if there's a way to remember" Legolas took a step towards you and placed his hand on your shoulder. When you looked up to him, he smiled.

"We will find a way, ressë" he said. You could feel the warmth and friendliness in him, and you welcomed it. Maybe trusting him wasn't so bad idea afterall, maybe all he said was true. You were exhausted and hungry, and slowly you started to realize it. Your tierd emotinons were getting a better of you, and you knew that after eating a little something and a little nap you'd be better and more welcoming in these new things, and maybe even more accepting.

But right now you couldn't do these things. These two wanted to catch up the dwarves, you wanted to catch up with them, catch up with Thorin. The sight of battle had left them, and you, worried that some of them might be hurt. Sturdy as the dwarves might be, one or more of them might still die to bloodloss or poisoning, as you had carefully suggested if the orcs were using poison in their weapons. And since their healer's - Oin's - stuff had been left back in Mirkwood, they had no supplies to bind and heal the wounds. And you weren't even sure, if all the orcs were dead, or if some of them were still chasing the dwarves down.

"There's two possibilities where the dwarves might be" you said. You had crossed a river, rather easily, and were standing now on a beach, where the dwarves had most likely been earlier. There was one lonely, broken barrel left behind, and Tauriel had spotted a place over a rock where "a dwarf sized could easily sit" with pool of blood right next to it. Someone of the company was clearly hurt, and had been given first aid with what they had - which meant a ribbed pease of someone's cloth over the wound.

"The mountain is one possibility, but it is a bit far away for a wounded one" Tauriel mused and turned towards the mountain.

"And they have to cross the lake to get there. They have the barrels, but I doubt that they'd be stupid enough to use them. The water is already cold enough in the river, but the lake is freezing cold. Too cold even for dwarves. They have had to find another way to cross it" Legolas said, seeming to be deep in tought. You looked both Legolas and Tauriel, wondering if neither of them would suggest Laketown. It was nearer than the mountain, and the dwarves probably needed supplies and weapons. And a warm shelter after the ride in the river.

"I... don't think they went to the mountain just yet" you said carefully. Both Tauriel and Legolas turned to you with guestioning look, so you continued: "Atleast one of them might be hurt, so they need healing supplies to get him, or them, better. And, they need other supplies aswell, as I understand that they left without taking anything but the barrels with them. They need a little bit food, clean and dry clothes, and weapons with them. And, as I understood it, there's a fucking dragon in that mountain. And were talking about dwarves here. They would not go anywhere near that mountain without any weapons, even if they might not kill the dragon with these weapons. And if they have orcs on their tail, they might want to get somewhere else than near a dragon, where - if it's still alive- they could get themself killed in a snap"

Something flashed in both Legolas' and Tauriel's eyes, and then they both smiled. You looked at them, a bit confused.

"So, to Laketown we go" Tauriel says, and starts to jog onward, probably towards this Laketown. Legolas gives you encouragin smile and nods to you. You sigh and so the two of you jog after the red haired elf. You really didn't feel like exercising today, but alas, this wasn't a gym class you could just skip when you didn't feel like playing a tag. This was worse than that, far worse than that.

The jog to the small city took about two hours. At some point you had felt like just giving up, sitting on nearest rock and staying there for the rest of the eterinity, but Legolas had offered to carry you on his shoulder - but only if you'd change your form into a small animal. So, you had taken a form of an small cat and on your cousins shoulder you stayed on the rest of the jog.

And, at first you three smelt it - and you only smelled it because you were on a form an animal. A smocke, like when something was burning. Something big. And a bad feeling set on you three.

"Let's hurry, I have a bad feeling about this" you said, and jumped down from Legolas' shoulder, turning into a leopard. You ran past rocks and trees and finally the three of you came out of the mall forest right next to the lake. And then you came to an halt.

It was an early eavning, and the sun was just setting. The sky was colored in orange, yello, pink... You know, the usual. But, right now, the colors were more vivid, more powefull. And there was the orange glow in the horaizon, some kind of steam and smoke rizing from what seemed like a...

"No..." Tauriel whimpered.

The Laketwon was on fire. But there was no dragon on the sight.

Tag-list;

@lidda @lady-bee-fechin @queendarkmuffin @silencegetawayfromme @kettnerjanea @sdavid09 @ealasaid @jumpingmanatee @fab-notfat @bae-age @fricking-ghoul @k-youre-a-fantasy @dumbgopher1 @maddybeck01 @naminalati @leah-halliwell92 @evyiione @tschrist1 @red608 @aliendaddiesneeded @letsbeinspiredby @jotink78 @dragongirl642 @shxrrybomb @awaiting-pointless-dreams @leac813 @sukeraa

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin x reader #legolas #Tauriel #one upon a time #regina mills #robin hood #rumpelstiltskin #emma swan #captain hook #henry

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leggomylino · 4 years

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S&M Act I, Scene I | Windstorm ༄

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

Genre: Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Fluff, Angst

Pairing(s): Lee Minho x fem!reader x Kim Seungmin

Au: Wizard of Oz au

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warning(s): Minorly to moderately dark themes of suppression, depression, panic, and insanity. Mentioning of blood, dark magic, violence, and (censored) language.

A/n: I’m so happy this story is finally coming to light! <3 Thank you to everyone behind the scenes who has supported me on the creation of this series, and to anyone who has ever supported my writing ever. ^^ I hope you enjoy!!! | Inspired by the events of Dorothy Must Die, by Danielle Paige.

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17 @distrikt9 @hanstagrams @hyunsunq @smolboiseavey @jisungsjheekies @iluvlix @moonlit-han @stay-nctzen @yangomangos @stayndays @cotccotc�� @skzctnightnight @multi-stan-present @dreamy-dreamies @yunhoesss (Please let me know if you’d like to be added! Comment, ask, or DM me!!!)

ღ S&M M.List | Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The dreams had been plaguing you for a while now.

“Y/n,” a boy’s voice spoke. “Y/n, always remember, and never forget. You must forgive, and never forget.”

“Remember what?” You’d cry out into the empty space. “Always remember what? What is it I’ve forgotten? Who is it I’m supposed to forgive?”

Alas, the empty space never told you anything. It was just a soft chuckle, the feeling of eyes lovingly watching you from somewhere far away, cloying and envious, and then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

~ ♕ ~

The rain pelting against your bedroom window that night had been harsh. You listened to the uproarious melody, now awake, lying in a pool of your own sweat, heart racing, wondering where you had come to and where you’d just been. It was always this way, taking time to cool down from such a feverishly swift and spiraling dream; although you were theoretically standing still in a vacant space, you felt the effects of falling as you arose.

The rain calmed you. Despite its intensity it was the one thing that gave you peace, something mentally stabilizing to cling onto and give full focus to as the echoes of a dream deferred vanished into the far recesses of your mind, where they’d be all but forgotten until the next evening. You didn’t know what you’d do when the stormy season was over-- it had already been unusual to have such a large mass of wacky weather one after the other this time of year-- and sure a ferrying rain shower or two was normal-- but you’d grown accustomed to running to the storm’s ferocity for guidance, a child’s blanket, a figurative teddy bear that you could squeeze against your thoughts when escaping the dream realm. The heavy downpour washed all of your fears and anxiety away. What would you do when it was all over, and Fall returned?

It had been so odd; with all the rain and fluctuating humidity, the flowers and Spring-Summer crops were in full bloom. You’d never experienced seasonal allergies in the Fall until now. Neither had your best friend, Hyunjin, and...speaking of…

You hadn’t realized it was morning until Hyunjin came bursting into your room with one of your uncle’s chickens in his arm. It was still raining, hard, the droplets sounding like tiny fists pounding to come inside. Doubtful to let up anytime soon. “Y/n! Are you still auditioning for the role of Sleeping Beauty up here? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Mia Harper’s got it covered, and Aunt Em’s gonna slide me your stack of pancakes in the next ten minutes if you don’t get your share of the chores done.”

A yawn escaped you. Hyunjin and his sidekick Kkami had been coming over to assist in your busy-hermit lifestyle ever since you could remember. He was your neighbor, after all, but...more on that later. The moment Hyunjin’s words soared beneath the backlash of bad weather, you’d completely forgotten what it was you’d just been thinking about, before the rain, what it was you’d dreamed. (Ever ironic how the dream had instructed you to remember, and yet, here you were, doomed to forget.) “Yeah, okay…” You yawned, stretching and easing yourself into the usual morning (sometimes afternoon) routine. You glanced at the chicken in his arms, and his subtle goofy smile in the doorway. “Is this your way of saying you’d rather have Pluckers as your lab partner instead of me?”

He shifted his eyes thoughtfully to Pluckers, watching him twitch and litter feathers like drops of rain before giving you his answer. “...I mean, that’s not a bad idea, actually. Have you even started your half of the worksheet yet?”

Ugh. Always about school. You wanted to tell him yes, but in all honesty you’d been spending your free time and late nights with your nose lodged between Harry Potter pages or your eyes plugged and gasping over YouTube storytimes. So you clamped your mouth shut.

And now, the backstory: Hyunjin had been your best friend for years. The two of you grew up next door to each other, which for country living was pretty dang far; having someone as your neighbor here was the same thing as having them live down the block. You’d never known your parents; you were adopted at a young age by your Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, who weren’t biologically related to you in any sense and just as good as any biological pair of adults. The details surrounding your DNA relatives-- and the year you’d come to live here-- were all unknown to you. The only story you’d ever gotten out of Aunt Em was that they’d had you from “knee-high” and that you couldn’t remember because of a nasty fall from one of Uncle Henry’s apple trees; Uncle Henry himself refused to speak of the subject at all, either pretending he needed hearing aids or choosing to run into the next room.

Hyunjin was your only friend in school. You’d never been very good in the communication department; growing up in a small town made your comfort zone the same. But not Hyunjin. He was popular and kind and got along with everyone. He had a gift for catching people’s eyes: every boy envied him, every girl drooled over him, and all your teachers and professors fawned and smiled and patted him on the back, even when he’d blurted out the “dog ate my homework” excuse in eighth grade and you proudly stood up and announced that he didn’t have a dog, disregarding Kkami, just for the amusement of finally seeing him choke and get scolded for once in his life. Instead you found yourself pouting with the Cone of Shame in silence while Hyunjin outrageously was given a star on the Good Noodle chart. It’d been the one moment to ruin your friendship for the remainder of class...until he gave you his Free Ice Cream ticket for PeachyKeen’s ice cream parlor downtown. Then, you were okay.

Even now, in your town’s small local college, he was applauded by all. The only person you’d ever seen frown his way was Uncle Henry, who often argued that a boy of his age shouldn’t be barging into a young lady’s room anymore. But Aunt Em always shrugged him off, quoting her famous “times change” saying and shoved a slice of pie before him, and he was back to watching TV.

A flash of lighting lit up the dim clouded sky, followed by the roar of thunder, and with a panicked squawk Pluckers shot out of Hyunjin’s arms, leaving a trail of feathers to follow down the hall. With a nervous look the two of you exchanged a nod before Hyun gave chase, closing the door behind him, and you got right to work getting ready for the day. It was Saturday, meaning no school, however there was still plenty of farmwork to do and the crops in the field weren’t going to protect themselves. Not from yesterday’s shower, and not from today’s.

You hustled downstairs with toothbrush hanging from your lips, dawned in your favorite plaid skirt and lime-green raincoat, the one with the little frog face over the left breast. Ruffling Kkami awake, Hyunjin’s “beloved baby,” you tossed her a treat from the clay jar you and Hyunjin had made together for her in sixth grade art, spinning and spitting in the kitchen sink.

Aunt Em gave you a nervous look as you tossed the brush in the dishwasher and started aggressively inhaling cinnamon apple pancakes like a beloved Nintendo character. “...And how is my favorite girl this afternoon?” She asked. Her whimsical tone made your neck blush.

“Sorry, I stayed up late studying again.”

“Studying the wizarding world of Hogwarts, you mean?”

“...Perhaps?”

You smiled apple bits and maple syrup, and she laughed, waving a dish towel at you and squinting the other way. “Keep your mouth closed until you're done. Didn’t I teach you better manners than that?”

“I dunno, did you?”

Her eyes bore into yours in warning and you laughed harder, nearly choking on the last bite of spiced apple goodness. Aunt Em sighed, shaking her head while wiping her hands clean. “I suppose I walked right into that one.” She nodded toward the side door, leading to the barn. “Hurry before the storm picks up. It’s gonna be another bad one, they say, so if the wind picks up anymore or it starts hailing or God forbid you see a giant funnel in the sky, I want the two of you right back inside, you hear?”

“Funnel cake?!” Uncle Henry called. He was glued to his usual pleather chair when he wasn’t out tending to the garden or the farm animals or fixing a leaky faucet. He was also in need of a hearing aid; working eight hours a day around screeching metals and brazen farm animals had left his eardrums in shambles. Aunt Em rolled her eyes, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Not cake, I’m talking about the weather!”

“It’s raining cake?!?”

She groaned, earning a chuckle from the two of you. It was cut short when Hyunjin came stumbling past, spitting out feathers and just in arms reach of a couple hens, Pluckers in the lead, signaling that brunch was over. “Thanks for the meal!” you said, shoving the plate forward.

“Be careful!” Em’s voice bridged across the living room. “You two look out for one another! And hurry!”

“We will!” You shouted back. The sound of the door clicking shut was barely audible beneath the heavy thunks of raindrops slamming against the tin roof as the two (five?) of you ventured out into the stormy play.

You wished then you would have taken just the sliver of a moment to look back.

~ ♕ ~

You’d never seen a flourishing of colors much like the one taking place outside. Turnips turning upwards, tulips banging heads, carrots and corn stalks exchanging blows before ending up on opposite sides of the field. Sunflowers having the sun beat out of them. It was something out of the rising action of a thriller movie. You’d seen similar scenes in nearly half the Harry Potter movies; the only thing missing were wizards and wands and perhaps a giant dragon.

“You round up Maribelle!” Hyunjin yelled over the storm. His arms were spread wide as he squinted and squatted through the blinding rain, ushering the rest of the chickens and hens inside the barn. “I’ll get the horses next!”

Nodding you ran through sloshing mud puddles and drowning fields of grain towards the feeding pasture, where dear old Maribelle the could be found, often grazing on weeds or spreading out for an afternoon sunbath. The lone cow of SunnySkies pastures for fifteen years, and the first to join the farm. Instead you found her darting bug eyes around wildly, her knobby limbs quivering beneath a willow tree that provided little protection, the willows only adding to the streams of precipitation pouring over her stiff brown fur. She gave you a frantic moo and bobbed her head in relief to see you.

“There, there,” you soothed, whipping the grass and water from her eyes. “Quickly now, let’s get you into the barn before this picks up anymore.”

She moo-ed again, lower this time, giving you an argueless agreement.

You sledged hard against the rising winds, the blades of greenery that cut surprisingly sharp like razor blades, leaving a small mark upon your cheek. You winced, annoyed at the slight sting, the small drops of crimson that came up against your fingertips only to be washed away just as quickly. It began to rain harder, faster, the wind practically howling in your ears. The faint sounds of a freight train or some sort of heavy machinery filled the distance.

“Let’s hurry, now,” you encouraged your steed, pulling her along beside you. She was reluctant to move, frightened by the spiraling commotion around her. It didn’t help when something snapped beneath your feet, a twig, maybe, or some glass. As if on cue the willow tree came crashing down with a thud.

You braced yourself, sucking in a sharp breath; you needed to get inside; but Maribelle had other plans. Startled, she ran a wayward direction, disappearing in the fog that was beginning to settle over the pasture. “Mari--!” you began to call, taking two steps forward-- ‘til the cries of another all but took your breath away, making you forget about Maribelle, making you forget about everything.

You stood, jaw slacked, slit-eyed, watching Hyunjin blow away. He wiggled in the fierce storm breeze like a flag pitched on the roof. “Y/N!!!” He screamed, clinging to the roof’s edge for dear life. “Y/N, GET INSIDE!!! CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!!”

“HYUNJIN!” You bleated back. “HYUNJIN, HANG ON!!! I’M COMING!!!”

“NO, IT’S TOO DANGEROUS, GO-- AHHH!” He shrieked and ducked his head beneath a flying branch. “...GO INSIDE!!! CALL THE PRESIDENT!!!”

“I’m not calling the President,” you huffed, fighting your way across sideways weather and flyaway hairs to latch yourself onto the barn ladder. Of all the times to crack jokes, only Hyunjin would choose a raging level eight storm. “Hang on I’m coming…!”

...Your voice trailed off as your head listed aside, something bouncing in the corner of your eye. There, rounding the side of the barnhouse, was Kkami, frolicking like a happy-go-lucky lamb to Hyunjin’s side.

“Arf! Rwarf!”

“KKAMI?!?”

Your blood went cold. If Hyunjin caught wind of Kkami, it was all over. “Kkami!” you hissed, or at least tried to over the roaring ninety-miles-per-hour winds. “Go back inside! Go! Shoo!”

“IS THAT MY BABY DOWN THERE?!?!”

Oi. “N-NO, IT ISN’T! JUST A BRANCH!!!”

Ushering Kkami with a branch at least beneath the safety of the barn roof, you hustled back to the side of the building. The rain made it slick and hard to hold onto, but you scaled the side of the barnhouse as fast as possible, avoiding loose vegetation and swatting at leaves and smaller branches and once a lemon wedge that the storm must have torn in two somehow, crawling up loose shingles and various askew obstacles and then...then…

This was the hardest part to remember, a part you wish you didn’t have to remember. Face wet, hair whipping in the tempest breeze, you reached for Hyun’s hand, kneeling, pleading, focusing thoughts on hot cocoa and warm lemon pie inside, an Aunt Em specialty. The reality you were so certain in. A reality that would never come.

“Gotcha...!”

Your hands met, fingers touched, smiles of relief shared. But it only lasted a moment before the rainstorm ripped him away, your cries drowning in the funnel that appeared in the sky...or at least that’s how you wished to remember it: in reality there was a soft, whimpering arf!, followed by your best friend’s gasp as he relinquished your grasp to adhere himself to the skies after Kkami, now paddling against the storm’s current, cries of “My baby!” and anguished “AAAAH”s lost on the wind.

And you could only watch him go, just seeing him manage to latch onto his beloved pet of nine-odd years before disappearing from sight, sucked into the giant magnetizing center of it all you’d completely failed to notice, the last thing from his lips a cry to your name. It’d appeared out of nowhere, substantial and vigorous. Pulling into the station, the train had arrived, uprooting and tearing apart everything in its path. A giant, swirling cloud of gray and gravel and doom.

Oddly enough, in that paralyzing moment, something clicked in the back of your mind: a cursory afterthought at the eye of the storm.

“Always remember, and never forget. You must forgive, and never forget.”

You stared into the eye harder.

“Come home, Y/n. Come home.”

“Y/N!!!” Aunt Em’s frantic voice screeched below. “Y/N, HYUNJIN!!! Y/N?!?”

You couldn’t look. Couldn’t move. Horror froze you to the barn, eyes locked on the exact spot you last saw Hyunjin disappear, the trance calling you deeper and deeper into a strange petrifying submission, until the tornado whorled to your doorstep and swept you away; the pasture, the barn, your home. Everything.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

ღ S&M M.List | Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

Smoke & Mirrors. Copyright © 2020 - 2021 poeticallyspaghetti.tumblr.com. Unauthorized use or reproduction of works is expressly prohibited. Do not repost, plagiarize, claim as your own, or translate my works. Thank you. <3

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imaginewitchsheart · 5 years

Note

How about Claire x Mansion squad HCs in which they realize that their child inherited the Witch's Heart?

This will be a platonic x Reader. With the Reader being the child.

Claire:

She’d be moderately concerned especially after everything she went through. It was one of her fears after all. When she had dealt with it herself.

She sits them down one day, not yet sure if she should involve her partner in the discussion.

“My ray of sunshine. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to have this talk with you but it looks like I don’t have much of a choice.” She then ruffles your hair, giving you a soft look paired with a smile that could only be described as sad.

You tilt your head quizzically, it wasn’t often that your mother was anything other than happy so it was reason for concern.

Claire reaches from behind her and produces a book. “Do you remember these books? The ones I used to read you?”

You nod, “Yes but I like the one you tell me that isn’t in a book! The one about you and Dad!”

You of course were referring to the story of her and Noel. It captivated you, always hearing of just how far he had gone for your mother.

Claire then sets the book down, solumnly. “Ah yes. That one’s you’re favorite isn’t it?”

There was a tangible pause paired with a sigh. “There are things I had trouble sharing with you. You were so young at the time so now I feel I can tell you the whole story.”

She lifts her finger, tilting it to the side and offering to smile. “It’s kinda scary though. Your opinions of my friends might change. Are you ready?”

Your brows furrow as you give a determined nod, hugging a pillow to your chest as you prepare yourself to listen.

Hours passed and you look at your mother wide eyed as she finishes with. “And now…it seems you have the Witch’s heart too.”

You toss the pillow and scramble to your mom, holding her tight. “But everything’s ok now, right? All of you are still friends and-”

She then combed your hair, shushing you gently. “Of course it is! Your father and I are going to protect you ok?”

Her voice then grew more serious as her brows furrowed. “But you can’t tell anyone ok? Even your best friends.”

You give a firm nod, squeezing her again as you simply shake in place.

Ashe:

He noticeably freezes, coming across the research confirming his worst fears.

You his own child seem to have possessed the Witch’s Heart.

No no, that can’t be right. Y/N can’t have the heart. Not like Claire. His breath caught in his throat, remembering the loss of Lilia and his two parents. Imagery entering his head upon then seeing you in the position Claire had been in.

He pushed the papers aside and stood. “No.”

Ashe was determined not to lose you. You were the only family he had and after finally having one of his own he refused to lose his family yet again.

He doesn’t speak to you about it, in fact he avoids the conversation entirely.

Your dad’s behavior tends to shift and he becomes more strict on you than you could ever have imagined.

Had you done something wrong? Where had this come from?

But you had never seen your father so scared outside of when he wakes up from those dreams he has.

The two of you spoke of almost everything so why wouldn’t he tell you…?

Unfortunately for him. Ashe would make his worst mistake this way.

Wilardo:

Taking you under his wing had curved his loneliness.

Being sterile and all, he couldn’t have children normally.

But finding you one day, it reminded him of his tie with gramps.

There was a bitter sweetness there but with how old he was now he masked it rather well.

Your father was perceptive at best, though as intimidating as he could be to others, he was always soft with you.

Though one day you noticed him growing unreasonably tense.

Setting your hand on his shoulder you try to gently get his attention.

He quirks a brow at you, keeping silent.

“Dad…? What’s wrong?” He seemed to look at you differently from before.

More distance in his gaze, more contemplative. Perhaps he was having a bad day? You couldn’t tell.

He simply shook his head. “Let’s stop for today yea? I’ll make us food. You can wander while you wait but stay close.”

He then brushes past you setting up a fire in order to prepare food. Occasionally glancing at you as you wandered the space obliviously.

With a inaudible exhale he merely watched you idly. Why am I always pulled into these hard choices…? Just like with Claire all those years ago.

He hummed while putting together the food, I have options… I could protect them like I tried with Claire but- Hm… the other option is we could both die…

Something else he remembered like a dream, an outcome with Claire where he had done the same.

He eyed you with this soft heart broken gaze, his chest fuckin hurt that’s for sure.

Was this selfish? Possibly. Or perhaps it was mercy.

While you wandered carelessly, the brooding immortal had called you back over for the meal. Handing you the bowl first and watching as you hungrily dug into the food.

You felt your muscles go limp, dropping the empty bowl as he caught you with a sigh.

Your consciousness fades and the last thing you manage to catch is, your fathers voice. “It will be over soon, Rose bud…”

Sirius:

The two of you were sitting, having afternoon tea as he was working on a few amulets in silence.

You knew how particular your father was so you did your best to keep quiet as he worked.

It was one of the few ways you could spend time with him after all so you felt it was worth it for just abit of your silence.

You doodled on this paper in front of you and he idly quirked a brow to watch.

The lines began to form a large gem in the shape of what would be the Witch’s Heart.

It was something you kept seeing in a dream, because of this your dream journal was filled to the brim with drawings of it among the disturbing imagery that usually came with this captivating gem.

Sirius sets down his cup, folding his hands as he only watched. The memories of his two best friends, his partner and that irritating Ashe Bradley idly passed through, invoking a sigh from the other.

“Y/N.” He prodded gently, enough to draw your attention away from the page.

“Hm?” Your head tilted, brows furrowing at his concerned expression. Your father as intelligent as he is happened to be a worrier at the best of times.

“I’m quite curious of your drawing, may I see it?” His red eyes conveyed only worry, his shoulders happened to be visibly tense as well.

You nod, hopping up and circling the work table to sit next to him and place it in his hands.

He only stared at the page, brows furrowed as he placed a hand on your back and rubbed. “Y/N. Do you know what this is?”

Your own brows furrowed and you gently shook your head. “I keep having dreams about it. Plus I see all these scary bloody images but-”

He gently shushes you, patting your head. “I know someone who had this gem once, you know.”

He pauses before correcting himself, “Well..two actually.”

He sets down the paper, rising from his spot and motioning for you to follow.

You perk up, tailing along with him, grasping his hand and kind of ducking under his longer cloak of which you had always seen him wearing.

Of course, you weren’t aware this was new and something he had adopted after the events of the cursed Witch’s mansion.

He mused a chuckle, patting your head again as he lead you into the side room, producing a small blue diary and slipping a picture into your palms.

You perked up, recognizing everyone in the folder immediately. “This is you, Claire and Lady Dorothy!!”

He simply nods, standing next to you and looking at the picture himself. “Yes. Though the two Elford women I looked up to, had that very gem in their chests..”

He gently taps the chest of those two in the picture.

You look up at him tilting your head in minor confusion. “Why is it in their chests, Papa?”

He only sighed, “The gemstone you were drawing is referred to as the Witch’s Heart. “

He suppresses a dry laugh as he continued, “ You know if only I wasn’t so stubborn in the beginning of it all I could have understood it all better, sooner. “

He eyes you softly. “This stone brings ruin to anyone who tries to use it. Though it tends to be in the possession of admirable people. Those who are selfish in their ambitions tend to use these people in order to get what they want, even if it means discarding them.”

He pets your hair, sighing again. “It’s how I lost Lady Dorothy in the first place. Though Noel and I, were sure not to lose Claire in the same way.”

Sirius then paces until he’s standing in front of you, your large eyes focused on him. So much trust held in that young gaze of yours. He now understood the position Lady Dorothy was in when she had him. “Love. You must listen to me very carefully.”

He taps his cheek as he continues, only focused on you, his child. “You must keep this information to yourself. Only speak of it with me.”

You blink tilting your head, “But what about Wilardo-”

He gently shushes you.”Let me handle it, Alright?”

After a moment you smile, giving him a squeeze, feeling him relax as you do.

Should my suspicions be correct my little tea leaf. I won’t let this all happen again.. He mused as he simply pat your head, returning the hug.

Noel:

Stress, this is a fantastic word to describe what your father goes through upon learning this information from Claire.

He had thought it was all over, that things had been wrapped up since their time in the mansion but to hear of this now only gave him whiplash as his chest only seized. Bringing his wife into his arms, remembering it all again.

Of course Claire was familiar with this reaction. He’d often wake up this way and go into a panic attack for a good while until she was able to quell him.

Claire hums idly, combing his hair and urging him to look at her.

“It’s ok Noel,” She continues softly. “Focus on me. We can protect them. We can do anything together, remember?”

The tension in his shoulders hadn’t subsided but damn if he didn’t cling to her. Losing her so many times had been one thing but losing the fruit of their love would ruin him beyond what you could begin to imagine.

He loved her so much, he loved you. Something he believed he could never have but also at first wasn’t sure that he even wanted.

Though after laying eyes on you in Claire’s arms for the very first time, he couldn’t begin to imagine a world without you or her in it.

For a while, Noel believed the only family he could ever have would be Sirius and Claire. Though now after the fact he was surrounded by more friends of which he could have originally imagined and his beautiful wife and child.

Claire brings him to the window, so they could both look at you as you play outside. Sitting in that small flower patch in front of the cottage.

His shoulders slack upon seeing you safe. That’s all he’s focused on, your safety, your happiness.

He want’s you to live, just as much as he wants her to live.

And he’ll be damned if anything happened to either of you.

~Mod Sirius

#Witch's Heart #Claire Elford #Wilardo Adler #Sirius Gibson #Noel Levine #Ashe Bradley #Mod Sirius #Anonymous

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crashdevlin · 5 years

Text

Keeper of the Stars-2: Fated

Author’s Note: A multi-part sequel to Some of This Isn’t Bad

Summary: Y/n was a fan of the Supernatural book series who wrote fanfics and attended the conventions. After meeting the boys through Becky, she stopped being a fan and became a hunter. When she shows up at a hunter wake, she doesn’t expect the Winchesters to remember her, and doesn’t expect the argument that breaks out between her and Dean.

Pairing(s): Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4255

Story Warnings: 18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!, fingering, oral (male and fem rec), protected sex

Chapter Warnings: none

You gasped as you stepped through the heavy iron door into the bunker. "Wow."

"Welcome to the Batcave." Dean said, smirking as he pulled the door closed.

"It's weird, but... this is exactly what I imagined when you told me about it."

"Really?" Dean leaned against the railing next to you.

"Yeah. Down to the ancient computer banks lining the wall, there." You pointed down to a set of old beige-colored computers. "Imagined 'em bigger, though."

"That's just part of it. The main computer's in a separate room with a special cooling system."

You smiled. "Well, that sounds about right."

"Come on. I'll give you the penny tour." Dean said, heading down the spiral staircase. You followed him. "This is the big nerd's favorite room." He said, gesturing around the library. You looked around the room, eyes flitting over the spines.

"Oh, my god. Is that an actual Malleus Maleficarum?"

"Yeah. We got some real cool shit in the fiction section, too." He gestured to another shelf of books. "First editions, all of 'em. Dickens, Pope, Jane Austen, Emerson, Thoreau."

"Why's The Wizard of Oz on the Nonfiction shelf?" You asked.

"'Cause Oz is real." You turned to him with a completely disbelieving look and he laughed. "Got a lot to fill you in on."

"Oz... munchkins, Wicked Witches... Wonderful Wizard of-"

"Yeah. The, uh, Wizard was evil, by the way. Well, bad. The Wizard was all the bad shit out of this sweet old Men of Letters legacy. Dorothy and her dad were Men of Letters, too."

"Dorothy was- This is weird. Like, I've had my share of weird over the last few years, but come on. Oz is real? How do you guys stumble into shit like that?"

"Wish we hadn't. Come on, let me show you my second favorite room in this place." He said, nodding toward a hallway.

You smirked as you followed him. "Let me guess... the kitchen? This place must have a huge kitchen."

"Well, it's not huge, but it's bigger than any kitchen that I've ever had. The kitchen I had with Lisa was nice, but it was pretty small and, honestly, Lisa thought I was gonna poison her and Ben so she never let me cook." He chuckled, pushing his hands in his pockets. "There was this one weekend she went on this yoga retreat. She left money for us to order pizza, but I made stuffed sliders one night and meatloaf the second. Ben loved them." He turned right into a doorway and stepped down into an industrial kitchen. He looked around, proudly. "My second favorite room. What do you think?"

"I think it's pretty great. I... haven't had a kitchen in years. I do most of my cooking on hotplates." You moved toward the fridge. "A real refrigerator. I forgot they came in sizes bigger than 3.4 cubic feet."

"Uh, don't open that. It hasn't been cleaned out in, like, a month, so..."

"It can't be that bad." You said, pulling the door open. You immediately gagged at a foul smell and pushed the door closed. "Oh, God, I stand corrected."

He chuckled and grabbed a can of soda from the counter. "It's warm, but do you want one?"

"No. I'm good, thanks." You said, sitting at the little wooden table and looking up at him. "You gonna sit down and talk to me, or what?"

"What, you don't wanna finish the tour?"

You laughed. "I have a feeling that the tour ends in your favorite room, Dean: your bedroom. I'm not here for that."

"Your loss. My bedroom is badass." He sat across from you and popped the tab on the soda can. "So, where should I start? I've given it a bit of thought, you know, but you're in control here, sweetheart."

"Amazon. Go."

"Had a nice time with a... fairly attractive woman, who immediately got pregnant and had a small girl who... Amazons come out quick, grow up fast, and kill their fathers." He bit his bottom lip and sipped the soda. "My daughter was a pretty little blond monster named Emma. Sam killed her... 'cause I couldn't."

You looked down. "That sucks. That'd definitely make me wary of random encounters."

"Yeah. Haven't had many of those... well, when I was a demon, I was... kinda insatiable, honestly. Refractory period on a demon is something I miss. Anyway. Uh, so filling in stuff you missed out on, Sam was doing those Trials to shut the Gates of Hell and it almost killed him. He was gonna let it kill him. He was ready to die and-"

"You refused to let him." You finished for him.

"Exactly. Anyway, the angel that I let in him, he got turned by Metatron. Metatron made him kill- wait, do you know about Metatron and the angels falling?"

You chuckled. "The angels were kicked out of Heaven by Metatron. Metatron: the voice of God. He transcribed the word of God into the tablets that the prophets can read. He decided to try to be God. You tried to stop him. He killed you. I don't know what happened to him after that, but someone must've neutralized him."

"Yeah. Heaven did. He was in jail for a while. Jail in Heaven, doesn't that just make so much sense? Anyway, he tricked Cas and escaped." He tapped his fingernail against the tab of his can. "There was this... this girl named Charlie. She helped us with the Leviathans and this thing at a ren fair and... we told her to forget about us, forget about the monsters. She was a lot like you, though. She couldn't go back to reading her sci-fi/fantasy books when she knew that there was a real world full of monsters and magic. Against our protests, she became a hunter. One of the most... amazing hunters I..." His voice broke, so he cleared his throat. "Sam roped her into a plot to get the Mark of Cain off of me and she... cracked the code to the spell and, uh, it was in this book and..."

Tears popped up in his eyes so you reached across the table and took his free hand in yours. He gave you a tight smile, then nodded. "She died. Killed by the Frankensteins... for the book... She was a good woman, great hunter." He cleared his throat again. "Anyway, she's the one who went to Oz." He adjusted your hands so that his thumb was running along the back of your hand. "There's a witch named Rowena, she used Charlie's code-breaker to figure out the spell to get the Mark off of me. Turns out, the Mark of Cain was... pretty much the lock on the Darkness' cage. As soon as it was off, out she came."

"Wait, how did you guys convince the Queen-Mother of Hell to do a spell for you?"

"Oh, you know that Rowena's Crowley's mom?" Dean asked, smiling slightly.

"I figured it out. When I was possessed, I had access to some of Yala's knowledge. Crowley does not have a good relationship with that woman."

"Crowley doesn't have a good relationship with anybody. Uh, anyway... Sam got Rowena to do the spell by promising to kill Crowley... which he failed at, so then he chained her up in an abandoned distillery and forced her to do it. He was kinda desperate to save me from the Mark. Neither of us could really stand me that way. He went for magic and the Book of the Damned... I went for a meeting with Death."

"Death? The Horseman?" You asked, pulling your hand back in surprise. He nodded, before looking down at his hand. He clenched it, then moved it off of the table. "Really? You were calling me out on my reckless choices?"

"Death wasn't that bad. He was actually really easy to talk to. He helped us with Cas when he went crazy with Leviathan power a few years ago and he helped me get Sammy's soul back. I knew he could help with the Mark. Except... his solution, because he knew that relieving me of the Mark would let out the Darkness, was to send me away. To freakin' Jupiter or something, you know? Somewhere where I couldn't kill anybody, or hurt the people I care about. But he wouldn't do it for free. I was supposed to kill Sammy because Sammy had been willing to die after the Trials and I had prevented that. I couldn't do it. I killed Death."

"You what?"

"Yeah. Apparently, that's totally a thing we could do the whole time. Kinda sucked, 'cause like I said, Death was cool, but it was him or Sammy... so I stuck his scythe in his chest and he died."

"You... so what Crowley tried to get you to do in 'Two Minutes to Midnight'-" You rolled your eyes at yourself. "When Crowley gave you the scythe and sent you into the pizzeria in Chicago, that could have worked?"

"Yeah. I guess. Shit, I forgot all about that." He laughed. "Wow, there's still some fan in you, after all. Uh, so I killed Death, Sam got Rowena to pull the Mark off of me and that let Amara out. Amara took it as me letting her out, because I was the last to bear the Mark, and we had this... connection. A scary connection. I couldn't hurt her. I tried. Somethin' about the Mark..." He took a drink then ran his hand through his hair. "She was pissed at God because he locked her away and abandoned her. I get it, you know, but she was eating peoples' souls and destroying shit, so we had to put an end to her. I couldn't. Like I said, we had a connection that was overwhelming. So, it was up to Sam and Sam started having visions and he was convinced that they were from God, but it turns out they were coming from Lucifer's Cage. He figured that if he got Sam to meet with him that he could convince him to say 'yes' again."

Dean flashed a proud smile. "Sammy stuck to his guns, told Lucifer 'no'." His face fell as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. "But Lucifer broke Cas with promises to put down Amara. Cas said 'yes' and Lucifer was let out. Lucifer didn't let on, not for a couple months, but he quietly took back Hell from Crowley and started plotting to take Heaven. Then, we... we track down Metatron to get info on Amara and it turns out that The Darkness is the sister of the Light." He gave you a look, and your eyes widened.

"Wait. God has a sister?"

"Yeah." He smirked. "And, uh, we met God."

You felt your jaw go slack and your eyes widened more. "You..."

"Oh, it gets better." He stood, walking to a metal rack near the fridge to grab a bottle of whiskey. "You've met God, too." He said, grabbing two glasses.

"What?"

He set the glasses on the table and pulled the cork out of the bottle. "The day we met, I noticed you had a signed copy of 'Home' in your purse. It seemed... well-loved. You get that signed in person?"

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the book. "Oh! Yeah. There's actually a neat story with that book. I was at the bookstore with-"

"Then, you've met God." Dean poured whiskey into a cup and pushed it toward you before pouring the second glass.

"What?"

"Chuck. Chuck was God."

"No. What? No, you said Chuck was a prophet." You said, picking up the glass and gulping down two swallows.

"That's what he told us... or rather, Cas told us. Chuck went undercover or something. He wanted to be close to the action instead of just writing it." Dean dropped into the seat across from you again and slid the bottle toward you so that you could refresh your drink. "Guess you and God got something in common."

You picked up the bottle and put it to your lips, forgoing the glass. You set the bottle on the table and looked over at Dean. "I can't believe..."

"Yeah. We, uh, didn't believe it, at first, either. But it's true. Chuck was God and he and Amara jumped ship to go rekindle their sibling relationship. So... Earth is Godless."

"Okay." You said, shaking your head. Your hand shook as you poured the whiskey into your glass, a little past half-full. "Okay. Chuck was God. Did he bring back your mom?"

"No. That was Amara, actually. I went in, ready to suicide bomb her with soul-power, got talking and made her realize that she wanted to fix her relationship with Chuck. As reward, I guess, she gave me my mom back. Kinda. Mom's not quite... she's, uh, out of her element. We're working on it. Baby steps."

"What happened to Lucifer?"

"Oh. He's still out and about, somewhere. Rowena sent him to the bottom of the ocean, but it's Lucifer so he's definitely still around. Cas and Crowley are running him down."

You stood, quickly. "There a bathroom around here?"

Dean looked up at you, a bit confused at your sudden movement. "Yeah. Down the hall, second door on the right."

You gave a tight smile and rushed for the bathroom. You splashed water on your face and took a deep breath. This was big. All of this was big. Lucifer is out and about, Death is dead, Chuck was God. Chuck is God. God handed you the book that started you on the path to meet Dean and told you, flat-out, that it was going to change your life. What an understatement. Why would God have- Why did He want you to be a hunter? A memory hit you and you gasped. You wiped at your face, then opened the bathroom door. Dean was leaning against the wall on the other side of the hall. "You okay? Was it too much at once?"

"Chuck wanted me to be a hunter."

"What?"

You cleared your throat. "That book. The copy of 'Home' that I used to keep in my... in my purse, Chuck gave me that. I was at the bookstore in my hometown. I used to spend all of my free time there. I was lonely and depressed and I used books and-and fanfiction as an escape. I was looking for a new series. I'd just finished reading The Dark Tower series and I needed something else. Chuck walked up and handed me that copy of 'Home' and said... 'This book will change your life', and then he walked away. It was fairly cheap, had an interesting summary, so I bought it. And then I went back and bought the rest. I found the online community, the Supernatural Family, and it did change my life. The friends I made on the internet chatrooms, they saved me from myself, an-and then the conventions... There was this big thing when they put together the first convention and I... I didn't have time to stay the whole night, just long enough to get my book signed. When I saw that... Carver Edlund was the one who gave me the book... I made a joke about him hanging out in bookstores to get his sales up. He said that I was the only one who he'd ever done that for." You took a deep breath. "We talked about you. He signed my book and didn't give it back, immediately. He asked what I thought your character needed in a woman. If you were going to settle down, what would you look for in a wife?"

"Chuck wanted you to... what, help set me up with someone?"

"I said 'Lisa'. You had such a good rapport with Ben and she could handle you if you weren't actively being a hunter." You shook your head. "That wasn't the answer he wanted. He pushed for characteristics, not an already-formed character. I said the woman would need to be funny, a bit damaged but not completely fucked up, that she'd need to be sexual but not a whore... she'd need to recognize your value because you don't recognize it, yourself. She would have to be smart to keep up with you and Sam, strong and capable of taking care of herself but not too strong to accept help when it's required. She'd need to be a hunter, because you'll never not be a hunter." You ran your hand through your hair and looked at the floor in the hallway. "He wrote down everything I said on a pad of paper, then handed the book back. I didn't think anything of it. But... soon after that, I... wrote my first erotic fanfiction. I'd been writing for years, but never... thought of doing anything overtly sexual."

"What are you saying?" Dean pushed off from the wall.

You sighed. "I think I gave... God the blueprint for the woman I am now."

"You think Chuck... wanted us together?"

"It sounds stupid, but..."

"No, it doesn't." Dean smiled down at you. "The day we met, I was drawn to you. It was like you were tailor-made for me. I... shit, I told you the truth about the world for no reason. If that wasn't Chuck interfering, I don't know why I did it." He chuckled. "I'll tell ya, Chuck does know how to play the long game, doesn't he? Gave you that book, set you up to... be what I need, what '06?" You nodded. "Got your input on who you thought my perfect woman would be (spot-on, by the way) in 2010, and three years later has Becky force us to meet at the con."

"And then... you didn't answer the phone for... years."

"So, you became a hunter." He leaned forward, pushing your hair off of your shoulder. "A badass hunter who knows how to ask for help."

"Dean..." You bit your lip and looked up at him. "I didn't come here to-"

"Who are you to deny what God had in mind for you?" He asked, amused.

"A badass hunter who's been burned by you before."

"Okay. Fine. We'll ignore the fact that we were set up on our first date by God. Why don't we set ourselves up a second date? A hunting date. I know you've done Wendigos, but have you ever done a skinwalker?" You shook your head. "Great. Sam's on a skinwalker in Minnesota. Either that or a really angry dog that disappears after it kills. I was planning to go meet with him after you left, but... you could come with."

You bit the inside of your lip and thought it through. If you were right, if God chose you and set your life on the path to be with Dean, maybe you should let it happen. You were not, however, going to fall in bed with him again. "Fine. But I'm getting my own motel room when we get where we're going."

"All right. Sammy's got the Impala so we'll take your Chevelle. And you can tell me some more of your hunting stories."

"None of mine are really note-worthy, Dean. I've never started or stopped the end of the world. I'm just... a hunter, you know?" You pulled your keys out and headed toward the bunker entrance.

"Lemme grab my bag, and you can tell me about your very first hunt when we get in the car."

You sighed and headed for your car, starting it and turning in the stereo. You switched from the radio to the CD changer and moved from your Zeppelin disk to your Taylor Swift 1989 disc. You were certain Dean was going to hate it, but you kinda wanted him to. He dropped his bag in the trunk and pulled open the passenger side door. His nose crinkled as he slid into the passenger seat. "What the hell is this?"

You put your car in reverse and headed for the interstate. "Don't bitch about the music, Dean. House rules. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

His eyebrows came together. "Wait. Did you just quote me... to me?"

"Damn near verbatim from the first book."

"Sammy was bitchin' about my cassettes on the way to Jericho. Man, that seems like forever ago." He made a noise of disbelief, then shook his head. "Turn down the T-swift and tell me about your first hunt."

You snickered at 'T-swift' and turned down the volume. "Well, the first time I decided to check out a case was the last one I called you about. The pretzel guy in Enid, Oklahoma. That's how I knew you showed up. I saw you there, hanging out the window of the Impala like a dog. I bounced after that, but I knew you were ignoring me then so I thought... I figured I already knew the basics of hunting and the rest, well I could figure that out as I went along. First case that I did start to finish was a haunting. A little girl in an old TB hospital in New York. The Ghostfacers went there, but they couldn't find the remains, 'cause most of the bodies were burned when they died because tuberculosis is way contagious. There was a doll, buried on the grounds because they didn't have a body to bury. I found a diary that gave me a roundabout idea of where to start looking. What I found was..."

You shook your head. "It was a mass grave of personal belongings. Dolls and books and eyeglasses and pocket watches and... all of these people's last important things. I burned it all. Several of them... thanked me." You shrugged. "I expected a fight. You and Sam are always getting beat up when you try to burn remains, but they didn't try to stop me. They wanted it to be over."

"That must've struck a cord. I mean, you stuck with hauntings for a while after that."

"Yeah. First non-haunt I did was a demon possession Asa took me on. I was scared out of my mind, thought I was going to be possessed, even though I had my tattoo." You bit your lip. "We tracked it, trapped it and sent it home without a single issue. The vessel even survived. I've never had a hunt go so well, before or since."

"Then Asa took you to bed to celebrate." Dean guessed, twirling the air freshener tree that was hanging from the rearview mirror.

"Don't. Don't do this."

"I'm just curious, okay, because I was under the impression that you didn't do a lot of the one-night stand thing."

"It wasn't like that, Dean. It's not like I go trolling the bars, looking for guys like you who won't care that I won't even be in town next week. It was... With Asa, it was two people who understood each other taking comfort in each other a couple times a year. That's all."

"I wasn't trying to say you were like me. I'm a slut. You aren't." He smiled. "So, you and Asa were a couple times a year. Any other... non-boyfriends?"

"Nah. No boyfriends, no benefits. I had Asa and the gig and that was it."

"I'm sorry, then, that I chased you out of the wake early."

"Eh, it's okay. I got to go get some lonely drinking done and totally didn't have to deal with Jael. It's a plus, in my book."

"Yeah. He was a dick. Took Jody and tried to get us to kill Mom."

"Yeah, and he taunted you all about Asa, right? See, Jody and I, we have a very specific dynamic. We both knew we were both fuckin' him, but as long as neither of us said anything, we were both fine."

"Yeah, how'd you meet Jody, by the way?"

"She caught me trespassing." You laughed. "I was poking around the blown-to-shit remains of Singer Salvage and she caught me. Noticed immediately that my Marshall's badge was fake, took me down for questioning. Which was just a trip to the diner for a cup of coffee and some stories about Bobby. She could tell I was green, suggested I find other hunters to hunt with, but I told her that I was fine. So, she gave me her card, wrote her cell number on the back and said to call if I ever needed anything... Even just to talk."

"Ah, that's why she was the only one at the wake who knew that you met us before."

"I didn't exactly advertise how I got into the business, Dean. Everybody else has dead family members or mutilated friends, I've got a stack of books in a storage locker and a one-night stand. Jody only found out because I got drunk and slipped up."

"A stack of books written by God."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know that 3 years ago, did I? And frankly, it still sounds like a joke to hear it out loud."

"Yeah, that never goes away." He smirked as he looked over at you from the passenger side.

"Stop looking at me like that." You demanded, softly.

"Like what?"

"Like you're imagining me naked."

"I don't need to imagine. I've got a great memory. 'Course, you got a bunch of new hunter muscles I'd like to see up close. I mean, your right hook is..." You rolled your eyes and reached forward, turning up the music.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme

SUPERNATURAL TAGS @letsby

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs

#cassie writes stuff #spn #spn fanfic #dean/reader #reader-insert

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supersleepygoat · 6 years

Text

Districts and Domains: Part Three

Pairing: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

(Spoilers) Commissioned by Anonymous: Part 1: Could you write a series sort of with an abo business au. The reader is an omega office worker and her work gets a new CEO who is Alpha! Sam and she immediately knows he is her true alpha but he gives her space and she doesn’t really want to approach him about it since she values being an independent omega. She takes suppressants so that she can still work during her heats but being around her alpha makes them stop working so she goes into heat. Sam brings her back to his house where he Part 2: where he claims her and helps her through her heat. When she comes out of her heat it’s angsty because she never wanted to be claimed and she quickly realized that Sam is a very protective/possessive alpha and barely lets him leave the house. It’s angsty at first but eventually he quells her into a life of submission and they have lots of pups

Summary: Your new boss is an arrogant and dominating Alpha, who also happens to be your true mate. Will he respect your wishes and stay away or will you each give into your basic desires? ABO. Business AU.

Word Count: 6,196

Warnings: ABO dynamics. True Mate Induced Heat. Protective/ Possessive!Sam. Unwanted Advances.

Square Filled: Falling for the Boss

A/N: Written for @spnabobingo

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

“You know, I called you here to help me. I didn’t call you here so you cuddle with Hunter while I’m being torn apart from the inside,” you groan against your pillow. Your heat had hit you harder than you expected last night. So, this morning you called your best friend Charlie for help. She is also an Omega. So, you are hoping she may have a trick or two up her sleeve that can help you. You have to be at work in a couple hours so you need something quick to quell your unexpected heat.

“But he’s so much friendlier than you are!” Charlie teases you. She leaves Hunter’s side to flop down on the bed beside you. “You’re always so grumpy when you’re in heat,” she informs you. She sits up and rests the back of her hand on your forehead. “But I’ve never seen it get this bad before. Maybe we should go to the hospital,” she suggests. Her sudden shift into a serious tone catches you off guard. You didn’t think you were that bad.

“I know you’ve been mated for a few years now. But, you can’t sit there and tell me you don’t remember what doctors do with unmated Omegas in heat.” You raise a knowing brow up at her.

Charlie shivers at the old memory. “I didn’t think they were still doing that. I thought for sure someone would have put a stop to that kind of… torture,” she says in a solemn tone.

“You know how things are. Nothing is going to change unless people start giving a shit about Omegas. And, that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. So… no hospitals.” You have to put your foot down. Current medical interventions for unmated Omegas are more dangerous than the heat itself. The treatments are barbaric and you’d rather die than go through that again.

“Got it. No hospital!” Charlie agrees.

A cramp rips through your lower belly. You roll onto your side to curl into yourself. When the painful spasms stop, you open your eyes. Charlie is gone. When she comes back into the room, she is holding your suppressants and some whiskey.

“I can’t drink that. I have to be at work in…” you look at the clock and groan, “two hours.”

“What kind of asshole makes you go in on a Saturday? Just tell them you’re sick! You always work through your heats. They owe you! They will understand if you need to take one day to yourself, a non-workday might I add!” Charlie says with an annoyed huff. She sets the whiskey and pills down on your nightstand.

“Under normal circumstances, I would take you up on that. But my new boss… I have a feeling he’ll throw a fit if I don’t show up.”

“Your new boss… the Alpha?” She raises an eyebrow up at you and gives you a knowing smirk.

You roll your eyes. You never should have told her about Sam. But your fevered brain makes you chattier than you’d usually be. “Yes, the Alpha. But he prefers to be called Sam,” you inform her.

“You sure about that?” she winks at you. “Because Dorothy loves it when I call her Alpha! She even insists on it,” Charlie offers you a wicked smile as she conjures up a raunchy memory in her mind.

“I’m sure she does. But I’m also sure she doesn’t like it when her coworkers call her Alpha. That title is reserved only for you, her Omega,” you remind your friend.

“True. But from what you told me, you may be Sam’s-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence!” You sit yourself up and try getting out of bed. But, your weakened limbs have other plans. You try storming away but end up tumbling to the ground instead.

Charlie rushes around the bed to kneel in front of you. You don’t look hurt, simply frustrated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off. But, you need to take it easy!” She uses the corner of your blanket to wipe the sweat from your brow. Charlie knows the idea of being claimed is a touchy subject for you. She usually knows better than to bring it up. But the way you were talking about Sam earlier, made Charlie want to push the issue.

“He’s not my Alpha,” you say completely ignoring everything else she said.

“I know,” Charlie says to appease you. She knows you’re not in the mood to be teased about your office crush. She helps you off the ground and sets you back on the bed. She bites he lip as she hesitates to bring something up. She knows you won’t like her offer but you’re running out of options. “I lied!” Charlie blurts out.

“You lied about what?” You look up at her with curiosity.

“I lied to you about how I met Dorothy! I know it’s been years and she’ll kill me for bringing it up but whatever. You know how I said we met at a midnight screening of the Wizard of Oz? I was dressed as the tinman and she was… well Dorothy?” Charlie asks for your confirmation.

“Yeah…”

“Well that was a load of horse shit. We did go to a screening all dressed up… but we were already together at that point. We actually met when I was in heat. I called an ‘Alpha for Hire’ company to help me through it. You remember how bad my heats were before Dorothy… so you are not allowed to judge me! I was too stressed out to find an Alpha the old-fashioned way and I thought-”

“Whoa!” You cut her off as you notice she is starting to ramble. “You can’t honestly think I would judge you for something like that. I know how bad you had it. Trust me, I get it. But was Dorothy really an Alpha-by-the-hour? Now that you mention it, I can totally picture that! She has a very calming presence. She would be good at handling distressed Omegas. Does she still work there?”

You are more surprised than anything else. You don’t blame Charlie for calling that company. Omegas have to do what they have to do to survive. You also don’t blame her for keeping it a secret. There is a certain stigma attached to renting an Alpha for your heat. People assume you are not good enough to find a permanent Alpha. But that is just discriminatory bullshit.

“No, I was her last customer. When she claimed me, she said she couldn’t imagine being with any other Omega. So, she quit,” Charlie says with a soft smile.

You return her smile even though it wasn’t meant for you. It is a romantic notion, an Alpha giving up her job and sea of willing Omegas for her one true mate. That is not common practice. Charlie is a one in a million case. “You got one of the good ones,” you smile at your friend’s contagious happiness.

“Look, I am only telling you this because I have something for you.” Charlie reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a business card. “It’s Dorothy’s old company. They have male Alphas too. She keeps in touch with her old boss. If you use her name, they will know to send over their best guy. Plus, she can get you a friends and family discount!” Charlie winks at you and you roll your eyes.

You take the card and look it over. You shake your head. You hand it back to her before your inner Omega gets too tempted. “I can’t. Thank you, but I can’t,” you say as you push yourself off the bed one more time. This time, you take it slow so you don’t fall down again.

Why not? An Alpha could help you. Like I said, I’ve never seen you this bad before. I-Is it because of Sam?” Charlie asks with hesitation. She knows the question will piss you off so she braces herself for your angered response. To her surprise, the anger never comes.

“N-No…I don’t think so,” you look at your feet as Charlie helps walk you to the washroom to start getting ready.

The truth is, the second you held that business card in your hand, you thought of Sam. You wondered if he would be mad at you for even considering it. It is an irrational thought. You only met him yesterday. He is your boss, nothing more. Intuitively, you know you should not let him influence your private decisions. But the thought was automatic. Your brain must really be fried from this unexpected heat.

Charlie doesn’t push the issue. This is something you need to decide for yourself. She can’t force an Alpha on you, even if it will help in the long run. Charlie just helps you get ready for work in silence.

You are half way out the door when Charlie stops you. “You never took your suppressants this morning!” she reminds you.

“I know, I think something is wrong with them. I have to check to see if they are expired or something. They just stopped working yesterday morning. And now, they are messing with my heat, making it come early and stronger than ever before.”

“Are you sure it is the pills?” Charlie asks.

“What else would it be?” You ask with utter confusion.

Charlie shrugs and keeps her opinion to herself. She knows the telltale signs of when an Omega finds her true mate. She went through the same thing when she met Dorothy. The only problem is, you are more stubborn. You may not realize what is happening to you. If you fail to acknowledge your mate’s call, your body will respond in terrible ways. But that bond is something you need to accept on your own terms. Charlie hopes you do before it’s too late.

Just in case you’re not ready to accept Sam yet, Charlie slips the Alpha for Hire business card into your purse. If your heat continues at this rate, you won’t make it through without an Alpha.

Charlie drives you to work because you are in no position to operate heavy machinery.

“Call me when you’re done. Don’t let that dick work you too hard!” Charlie shouts out the window of her car.

“I am assuming that I am that dick?” Sam’s voice startles you from behind. He leans over to look inside the car. Charlie is sporting a guilty smile. He waves at her.

“Are you Sam?” she asks.

He nods.

“Then, yes. You are that dick I was referring to. You make my girl come in on a weekend while she is in-”

“Alright! Charlie, thank you! But time for you to go now!” You cut off your friend before she tells the whole world your personal business and gets you fired. “Say goodbye, Charlie.”

“Goodbye… Sam,” Charlie all but purrs his name just to embarrass you. Sam laughs as he waves her off.

You lean into the car and whisper so only Charlie can hear you. “I hate you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you too!” she shouts as she peels out of the parking lot.

You turn around expecting Sam to have gone inside already. But he is still there waiting for you. The warm smile on his lips puts you at ease. It wouldn’t be the first time Charlie has gotten you in trouble. So, you’re happy now isn’t one of those times. You don’t have the energy to defend yourself or your friend right now.

“I like her,” Sam says as he guides you into the building.

“You want her? You can have her. She’s your problem now! No take backs,” you joke as you wait for the elevator. You look around the lobby for Henry but then remember it is the weekend and he won’t be around.

When the elevator arrives, you step inside. However, Sam stays in the lobby. “I-I forgot something from my car. I’ll meet you up there,” he says before he steps back to let the elevator close without him.

Sam waits for the doors to close and for you to be out of sight before he stumbles back. He rests his weight against the wall. And releases the breath he had been holding since he ran into you in the parking lot.

You’re in heat. He noticed it the moment you were within range. Sam adjusts his pants so the noticeable bulge is strategically hidden. Sam corrects himself. He can’t let you effect him like this, not while he’s at work.

He steps forward and waits for the elevator to come back. When he steps inside, you scent still lingers in the confined space. He lied to you about forgetting something in his car because he didn’t think he could stand being alone with you in such a tight space. He doesn't trust himself. But now, he is still tortured by your scent and doesn’t have the luxury of being near you.

He doesn’t know how he will make it through the afternoon. He should have just let you have the day off. You will be nothing but his greatest distraction. Sam stumbles out of the elevator when he reaches his floor. He clears his throat and stands up straight. He has a job to do. The sooner he cements this new deal, the sooner he can send you home.

Sam has to pass your office to get to his. He has every intention of rushing to his office and locking himself inside until everyone else shows up. But, as Sam walks by your open door, he stops in his tracks. He sees you sitting behind your desk. The bright smile on your face captivates him even more than your scent does. He didn’t think that was even possible. You are holding the mug Sam spent the previous night reassembling for you.

He watches as you trace your finger along the noticeable cracks. Your smile widens as you poke at the dried glue that seeped from the fractured porcelain. You can feel that you are not alone, so you look up at your door. You see Sam standing off to the side watching your reaction. You hug the mug to your chest and offer your wordless gratitude.

The prospect of putting a little joy in your eyes is what drove Sam to stay late last night. But the warm way you are looking at him now, exceeds his every hope.

Sam offers a humble shrug before pushing off your doorway. He leaves before he says something to ruin the quiet moment. Sam still doesn’t understand why a mug would make you that happy. You put the mug on the corner of your desk beside your framed photo of Hunter. Sam will never understand. It is not the mug that made you so happy.

You sit at your desk and try to get some work done before the guest of honour arrives. This guy better be the world’s greatest lawyer if he is worth all the department heads coming in on a Saturday. But you find you are a little less annoyed about it than you were this morning. Every so often, your eyes flicker between the file on your lap and the mug on your desk. This day isn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

As you sit and wait, you suddenly realize that your immobilizing camps have dulled into a subtle ache. You notice how your sweaty skin is barely even clammy anymore. You chalk your easing heat up to the fact that you are at work and have the opportunity to distract yourself. You fail to consider that the Alpha down the hall is influencing you. In reality, he mere presence is putting you at ease. His proximity is all it takes for your body to respond favourably. But, you refuse to let that thought into the forefront of your mind.

You are playing with the corners of a page you are not really reading when there is a knock at your door. The man standing in your doorway offers you a twinkling smile. You notice right away; this man is an Alpha. If you couldn’t tell by his scent, his presence says it all.

His teeth are straight and white, his jaw could cut glass, and he is even taller than Sam. His bicep looks larger than your head and yet his navy-blue suit fits him perfectly. He stares at you with deep brown eyes through thick lashes. His appearance would have any woman drooling onto the floor. But the second you catch his scent, you stomach churns with disgust.

The stranger looks around the room with a smug look on his face. He assumes your silence is due to admiration. He has that effect on women, especially Omegas. But in reality, you are keeping your mouth shut to swallow your encroaching bile. “Awfully big office for a secretary. Where is your boss, honey? I believe he is expecting me. I am Daniel Reid.”

You bite your cheek as you contemplate how to play this. This man is obviously an asshole and on any other day, you would lay him out. But today, you don’t have the extra energy to expend. So, you keep your correction short and sweet. “My name is Y/N, not honey. I am not Mr. Winchesters assistant. I am the head of human resources. I am in charge of the hiring process actually,” you return his smug smile. “Sam is down the hall, last door on your left. Good luck,” you scoff at the stereotypical Alpha.

You know Sam wants you to schmooze this asshole but he picked the wrong day to push your buttons. You may not have the energy to start a fight with him, but you also don’t have the energy to feign pleasantries.

“My bad,” the Alpha raises his palms in defence. He steps further into your office and lets out a dramatic shiver. “It sure is chilly in here. I am guessing you are the office Ice Queen.” He smiles at you again, only it is much less charming. There is a look of resentment hidden under his facade. “Every office has one. There is always one silly Omega who wants to play professional. Here is a tip, honey. If you want to be taken seriously, don’t come to work while you are in heat. All you do is stink up the joint. Plus, you make every Alpha in the office wager how much slick will be pooling in your panties by the end of the day. It is very distracting,” Reid licks his lips.

You stare up at the man in utter shock. You have been at this company for years. You have been shielded from a lot of the discrimination Omegas usually face in the work place. So, you had forgotten how hostile of an environment this can be. You forgot just how low you can be made to feel.

The Alpha looks at your bare and unclaimed neck. He grins at you. He knows you won’t challenge him. Not just because he is an Alpha and you are an Omega. But because he is highly sought-after in his field. This is the third company he’s met with this week. Each one offers more money and better incentives. If you value your job, you’ll take his degradation in stride.

He wonders how far he can push you. Reid has no patience for Omegas in the workplace. Had he known this company even hires Omegas, he wouldn’t have taken the interview. He believes that any company that hires Omegas cannot be serious about profits. Omegas are dead weight that absorb resources and distract from productivity. But now that he is here, he may as well have a little fun before he turns down Mr. Winchester’s offer.

Daniel strides up to your desk. He scans the clutter on top with a judgmental eye. His finger dance along your personal items. He picks up your rebuilt mug. “Cute,” he hums to himself.

“Don’t touch that,” you finally release your voice.

“Oh, it speaks!” Reid mocks you. “I was afraid you were going to make this difficult for me.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you ask more out of curiosity than anything else. This man is infuriating but it is nothing you haven’t heard before. You are genuinely curious where his sense of entitlement comes from.

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, honey.” There is a hardened threat underneath his term of endearment.

A chill runs down your spine at the warning in his eye. This is not an Alpha who accepts back talk from a lowly Omega. You bite your tongue for your own safety.

“Opps,” Reid feigns surprise as he purposely drops your mug onto the ground. The already fragile porcelain breaks again when it hits the floor.

You spring from your seat and round the desk to confront him. You push on his shoulder to get him to back up so you can pick up the pieces. “Why would you do that?” You bellow at the hateful man.

Before you can get to your knees to clean up his mess, Reid grabs your wrist with bruising force. He pulls you up against him. He traps you there in his thick arms. “Do not put your hands on me! I could break a lot more than a stupid mug. Don’t forget, you’re in heat. What do you say I check the result for the office wager and see how much slick you got for me?”

His hand moves to reach up your skirt and your eyes widen in fear. You kick against him and struggle in his hold. “S-Sam!” You shout before Reid can put his hand over your mouth. Calling out for Sam was instinctive. His name left our lips before you had a chance to think about it.

“Shit,” Reid exclaims. He pushes away from you before your shouting brings unwanted attention. “Keep your mouth shut about this,” he warns you. The threat is not in his words but in his eyes. He shoves you back against your desk and straightens his tie. He turns to leave your office. “Omega bitch,” he says under his breath as he reaches the door.

Sam is in his office. He can still smell you from all the way down the hall. He uses his pending work to distract himself from the tightness in his pants. But then your scent shifts. Sam raises from his seat as your sweet scent morphs with undertones of fear. Sam rushes into the hallway and storms toward to your office.

He was halfway there when he hears you cry his name. The pleading sound in your voice makes his blood run cold. He sprints rest of the way. But Sam stops in is tracks when he sees Mr. Reid leaving your office and closing the door behind him.

Your scent is all over him. “What were you doing in there?” Sam puffs out his chest. That is not the question he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask if you let the other Alpha put his greedy hands on you. But, this is a professional environment and felt that question would be inappropriate.

“I stopped in for directions to your office, Sam. You do know there is an Omega in heat behind that door, don’t you?” The disgust is evident in Reid’s voice.

“She is not your concern,” Sam says with finality.

“Look, you know I respect the work your family does. And in any other situation, I’d get on board with whatever project the Winchesters tackle next. But you can’t expect me to work for a company that hires Omegas. Omegas belong in the bedroom, not the workplace. You knot them, you don’t add them to the payroll. Have your father call me when he’s ready to be serious. The next time I fly out for an interview, you better have a serious offer to put on the table. I came here as a curtesy to your family. But this was a waste of my time.” Reid looks back at your closed door. “That one is trouble. I’d get rid of her before her heat makes an unsuspecting Alpha do something that could get him in trouble.”

Sam steps in closer to get in the other Alpha’s face. Even though he is a few inches shorter, Sam radiates intimidation. “Excuse me?”

Reid doesn’t take Sam’s bait. “Oh, I get it.” He smiles at the younger man. “You like the little bitch. You want my advice? Save yourself a lawsuit and fire her. That way, you can stick your knot in her without her claiming a ‘hostile work environment’. She can’t sue you for workplace sexual harassment if she doesn’t work here,” Reid shrugs.

Sam nods and pretends to contemplate things for a moment. Before Reid has time to react, Sam lunges forward and wraps his fingers around the older man’s throat. Sam snarls as he pushes Reid into the nearest wall. The drywall nearly cracks under the force of his shove. Reid has size and strength over Sam but it is no match for pent up Alpha’s fury. Sam’s determined grip refuses to relent. His fingers bruise into the arrogant man’s neck as he holds him against the wall with seemingly no effort.

“The only reason you are not dead right now, is because of her. I know she’d be pissed if I walk into her office covered in your blood,” Sam informs the Alpha with a low growl. “I can smell her on you. I know you touched her. I know you touched my Omega.”

“She was asking for it! No Omega would come into work while in heat if she wasn’t looking for a knot,” Reid’s defends himself.

“Did you knot her?” Sam asked with barely restrained ferocity.

“No!” Reid tries pushing Sam away but Sam’s rage is making his strength unparalleled.

“But you touched her.” It is not a question.

“I know you Winchesters are old fashioned but get a grip, boy! She’s not even claimed! She’s fair game until someone asserts their ownership. So, claim her or get the fuck off me!”

Sam smiles a joyless grin. He leans in close and speaks in a low tone. “Every night I want you to thank your lucky stars that you touched my Omega in her workplace. If we were anywhere else and she wasn’t around, I would rip your throat out with my teeth. I can assure you that my Omega, or any Omega, would never ‘ask for it’, especially from a fucker like you. If I ever see you again, I promise you that I will taste your blood and watch you bleed out. You have sixty seconds to get out of my building.” Sam spits his venomous words and he releases the larger Alpha. Sam smirks as what looks like fear flashes across Reid’s face.

“You are insane! Don’t think I won’t tell your father about your little stunt,” Reid says as he rubs his bruising throat.

“Forty-eight seconds. Do you want to stay and chat about my father or do you want to keep your all your extremities?” Sam gives the man a simple ultimatum.

Without another word, Reid scurries away. He knows better than to test the younger Alpha. He knows this is no idle threat.

Once Reid is out of sight, Sam turns around and now realizes that he had an audience for the entire exchange. The department heads had heard the commotion and came to see the show.

“I am sorry to have wasted your time today. Mr. Reid and I had come to the agreement that he is not the right fit for this company.” Sam says as he straightens his jacket. He can see his employees staring at him in unsettled confusion. “I’ll bring in doughnuts for the entire office on Monday as an apology for making you come all the way in for no reason. You are free to go. Enjoy the rest of your weekend,” Sam bribes his subordinates to leave quickly and quietly. They obey.

Sam doesn’t wait another moment before he slips into your office without knocking. You jump at the intrusion but settle in an instant when you see it is only Sam. You are sitting on the ground among the broken glass.

“I broke it again,” you say as you push around the broken pieces with your finger. “I’m sorry. I can only imagine how much time it took you to put it all back together.” You voice is quiet and solemn.

“You broke it? Are you sure it wasn’t that asshole Reid who broke it?” Sam asks as he crouches in front of you.

You look up at him in surprise. “I-Is he-”

“He’s gone. He won’t be back.” Sam assures you. He sees you sigh with relief and he mirrors your action as the fear drifts out of your scent. His relief is cut short when he sees the beginnings of a bruise forming on your wrist. He has to bite back his impulse to follow Reid out and rip him to shreds. He bruised Sam’s Omega. He will pay for that. But right now, that is not what you need. “Why are you covering for him?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you a man as distinguished as Daniel Reid broke my mug just to be a petty asshole.” You look back down at the broken pieces.

“Hey,” Sam hooks a finger under your chin to get you to look up at him. “I’ll always believe you. You can tell me anything.” You almost do not recognize his soft tone. His fingers trace along your jaw until he is cupping your cheek.

“Alpha,” you whisper as you nuzzle into his hand. Having Sam so close to you makes you forget all about your would-be attacker. All your thoughts are drowned out by his intoxicating presence.

Sam reaches his other hand out to cup our other cheek but you flinch away from him. You finally remember where you are and who you are. You can’t have him kiss you. If he kisses you, there is no coming back from that. You will be his. But you aren’t ready for that. You like your life the way it is. You like doing your own thing. Every Omega you know loses their independence the moment they fall in with an Alpha. You aren’t ready to give that up.

Unfortunately, your body and your mind have separate plans of action. Your body rejects your mind’s resistance. You double over in pain as the muscles in your lower stomach contract in protest. Sam grips your shoulders and pulls you up against him. You bury yourself in his arms thinking that his soothing scent will settle you. Except, it has the opposite effect.

You skin becomes sticky with sweat and you whine at the pain growing inside you. You start to claw at his chest as your core throbs for attention.

“We’re not doing this here. This isn’t what you want. Settle down, Omega.” Sam swallows his basic instincts. The Alpha inside him is screaming at him to bend you over your desk and take you right here, right now. But, he conjures enough restraint to hold back.

You moan as he calls you by your title. It feels so right coming from his mouth. “Please, Alpha. I need it,” you shift in his lap to wrap your legs around his waist. “Just once, it hurts so bad.”

You don’t know where these needy pleas are coming from. But being wrapped in his scent has eliminated your ability to care. Apparently, you are not above begging for it. You never thought you would be this type of girl. When your heat dies down, you will be very embarrassed by your actions. But for now, you have no plans of slowing down.

“I know it hurts. But, I wouldn’t be able to only do it once. If we did this, it wouldn’t be a onetime thing. It wouldn’t be a quickie on your desk. You are mine. I take everything or I take nothing. And, you asked me to keep my distance. I will respect that.” Sam maintains his resolve. Even as he watches you pull up our flowy skirt to expose your slick covered panties, he remains firm.

“Please, Alpha!” you beg completely ignoring his efforts of restraint.

Sam growls as he hooks his arms under your knees and hoists you both off the ground. He sits you on the desk and makes sure you are stable before he pulls himself away from your grabby hands.

Sam digs through your purse to find your phone. He doesn’t trust himself to drive you home without giving in. He plans on making you call Charlie to come get you. The idea of sending his Omega off in the peak of her heat physically pains him. But he can’t let himself give into temptation, not if you are not ready.

Sam finds your phone but something else catches his attention first. It is a bright pink business cared with thick black lettering. The words written make his bones chill.

Carmen’s Alpha by the Hour

Sam crumples the paper in his hand as he turns back to you. The restraint that once strained his eyes is now replaced with unabashed fire. He strides back over to you and you instinctively open your legs do he can stand between them.

He puts is hand in your hair and pulls your head back. “Is this what you were going to do if let you go home without me? Were you going to let some random Alpha knot what’s mine? Were you going to let another Alpha touch what belongs to me? You are mine to take care of!” Sam’s hand pushes up your skirt so he can cup you mound. You are utterly soaked with slick. Sam growls against your neck as his fingers play with the mess between your legs. “Mine,” he says to reassure himself.

You didn’t know Charlie had slipped the card into your bag. So, you have no idea what he is talking about. But, you are too lost in your own need to care. His fingers are so close to giving in that you cannot focus on a word he is saying. You roll your hips against his hand, looking for that friction he refuses to give. In this moment, he is not your boss and you are not his employee. His is an Alpha and you are an Omega. Nothing else matters.

Sam takes his hand out from under your skirt. He puts that hand on your hip to keep you still. He looks into your eyes for a brief moment. You don’t have to say a word. The desperate tears that pool in your eyes says enough.

Sam kisses you. His soft lips are hardened with hunger. There are no remnants of the kind and gentle man that stayed late to fix your mug. The tongue forcing its way into your mouth is rough and dominant. The hand in your hair and the hand on your hip grip you like a vice as he pulls you closer against his firm body.

Your lungs scream for air but you do nothing to break the kiss. You let the Alpha steal your every breath. As if Sam can sense the burning in your empty chest, he pulls away from you.

You whimper at the loss of his lips. Sam wipes the smudged lipstick from the corner of your mouth but smiles to himself. He likes seeing his Omega all dolled up for work. But he much prefers the deshelled and strung out looking Omega before him.

You open your legs a little wider and arch you back. Your chest heaves as you regain your breath and yet you show him you are ready for more.

“I told you, we are not doing this here,” Sam reminds you as he steps back. The little pout that distorts your features makes Sam want to bite that bratty lip until it bleeds. But he doesn’t, that can wait.

Sam lunges forward and throws you over his shoulder. He leaves your purse, your phone, and your keys behind. He even leaves the broken pieces of your mug on the ground.

Sam carries you out of the building like a caveman dragging his wench back to his den. His behaviour is not that of a boss walking his employee to her car. Luckily, everyone else had cleared out of the office. So, no one can see the primal glint in their superior’s eye. But even if the building was swimming with personnel, Sam would not change a thing. You are his and he doesn’t care who knows it. In fact, he’ll make damn sure the whole world knows it by the end of the end of the night.

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deanswinchcster · 6 years

Text

She had a sister.

// Part 2:

While investigating an unusual murder the boys find out Charlie has a younger sister which just so happens to be the reader.

Paring: Eventual Jack x Reader.

Warning: Swearing.

Credit: to the creators of the gifs I've used. You guys are amazing.

To catch up: Part one.

How was this possible? These men didn't only take you in, they knew Celeste. They knew your sister. Slowly you began to put the pieces together. If they knew Celeste and heard your story explaining your lack of parental figure as well as your last name, they must have gathered that the two of you were related. However rather than being excited due to being a step closer to the one surviving member of your family, you were pissed. Beyond pissed.

You must have been staring at the picture for a while because Jack's hand gently touched your shoulders causing you to jump, letting go of the picture frame and causing glass to shatter everywhere. Instead of worrying about injuring yourself, you gently picked up the photo and tuned in Jack's direction, fire in your eyes once he came into view.

“How do you people know this girl?” You spat through gritted teeth.

Jack realised you were being serious about the picture and looked down at your hands, noticing a small cut had appeared from where the glass had caught your skin. His attention soon moved to the photo of the girl but no names were coming to mind.

He didn't know this girl. Her red curls however did remind him of you, just as vibrate and beautiful. “Y/n, I'm sorry, I don't know her.” He answered honestly, noticing you becoming angrier by the second as he looked from your hands to your face. You clearly hadn't even noticed the blood now. Fearing for your well being, Jack looked around the room before coming up with the simple solution. “We should just ask Dean, he's the one in the picture after all.”

Reluctantly you nodded your head, if Jack said he didn't know her then you really had no choice but to believe him. There wasn't a flicker of recognition across his face.

The pair of you walked back into the other room, your eyes locking in on Dean and without thinking of your next move, you stormed over to him, slamming the photograph on the desk and looking at him with fire in your eyes. “How do you know Celeste?”

The older Winchester looked up at you in shock. He hadn't expected you to figure it out so quick... or at all really. Not because you weren't smart but because he and Sam simply planned on killing the demon responsible for your friends death and sending you back to your apartment without revealing much of themselves in the process.

Clearly that wasn't going to work. Both he and his younger brother had forgotten all about the few photos Charlie had insisted on taking with the boys that they had later framed and hung up. Still, he didn't blame himself or Sammy. He phoned Castiel before you arrived and told him you who you were and that you were coming to stay with them for a few days. He should have been the one to hide the pictures.

With this thought in mind, Dean narrowed his forest green orbs in the angels direction before turning back to you when you slammed you had on the desk once again.

‘Play dumb, Dean. You've done it plenty of times before.’ He thought to himself.

“I don't know what you're talking about...” he started, looking like an innocent puppy dog. “the girl in that photo is named Charlie.”

This caused you to scoff and roll your eyes at him much to his annoyance.

“Bullshit!” You cursed. Did he really think you and Celeste hadn't talked about life when you saw each other? You knew about her secret identities. Hell, you remembered ten years ago when she went by the name Caroline until she became bored of it and decided she wanted something different. “Charlie Bradbury, I know she used that name! And I know you know her real name was Celeste, don't play dumb with me.” By now you were seething. They knew who your sister was and he wasn't telling you.

Why? What could have possibly happened?

“Y/n, maybe you should calm down.” You heard the younger Winchester say which caused you to snap your head in his direction and him sigh.

“I'll calm down when you tell me why you have a photo of my sister.”

Dean glanced at his younger brother and shook his head. You had already lost both parents and your best friend. You didn't have any other family but Charlie and if you knew what had happened, he was worried that would break you. Sure, you were putting on a tough act since Nina had been murdered but no one could stay strong forever.

Besides, if you found out the truth, you would hate both the Winchester's. You wouldn't trust them to keep you safe. Not only that, but you would also know about the supernatural side of the world and they didn't want to expose yet another person to that side of things.

You realised everyone's eye were on you now, but still no one talked and you knew they weren't about to start any time soon. Scoffing, you turned on your heel and walked away from the men in the room, giving Jack a soft smile to assure him you weren't angry at him while ignoring Sam's question about where you were going.

Why would he care? You weren't their responsibility and if they weren't going to be honest with you, then you didn't want to be anywhere near them. You would do the easy thing and leave. Go back to that shitty, rundown hotel and wait there until you receive a call from the police informing you that it was safe for you to go back to your apartment.

This was ridiculous. You refused to stay with people you couldn't trust. Luckily for you, you hadn't unpacked yet so you headed straight down the hall way to the room you had been given, took hold of your duffel bag and slung it over your shoulder.

You only managed to make it a few steps closer to the front door before bumping into the oldest Winchester who was now holding the photo of your sister, some blood had stained the edges where you had cut your hand but other than that it was in perfect condition, not that you cared any more. “Get out of my way Dean.” Trying to side step him was no hope, he would just purposely block you again.

“Where do you think you're going?”

“Away from you.” You snapped, trying your hardest to leave and go back to that shitty hotel.

“You aren't seriously thinking of leaving after your friend has been murdered in your apartment!” He seemed unimpressed but you didn't understand why he was acting like it was a big deal to him. After all, you were no one to him. He didn't come in search for you to keep you safe, he came in search for you to ask you questions. You figured that the only reason you were in the bunker was due to the fact that your last name rang a bell. “It's not safe out there.”

It took everything in you not to laugh out loud. “Don't do that.” You witnessed the confusion set on his face. Shaking your head, you looked up at him, since he was taller than you were. No surprise there. “Don't act like you care about my well being, I'm only here because your recognised me as Charlie's kid sister, this isn't about wanting me to stay safe.”

“I want to keep you safe... me and Sammy, that's our whole deal, we protect people.”

“Yeah well, I can protect myself.”

This time you successfully managed to push past him with minimal effort and came closer to the door just has his hand reached out to grab your elbow, turning you to face him. He realised there was only one thing he could do to make you stay. Tell the truth. “I thought you wanted to know how I knew Charlie.” He asked with an arched brown, knowing he had peaked your interest.

After a few minutes of talking, you agreed to hear him out so he lead you down the abandoned halls of the bunker back to the library where Sam, Castiel and Jack still sat, only looking up when your heels clicked gently against the floor. The younger of the bunch perked up once you entered, patting the empty spot next to him signalling for you to sit. Without thinking twice, you moved across the room and sat besides him, waiting for Dean to speak up about your sister.

It didn't take long until Dean spoke. The entire conversation couldn't have lasted more than an hour yet you felt like you had just been given twelve years worth of information. So far you'd learnt that Castiel was an angel, Jack was a nephilim, meaning he was part human, part angel. Or in his case archangel. Not only that but his father was Lucifer himself. You had also learnt that both Sam and Dean had died a couple of times and stopped the apocalypse from happening. Angel's had fallen from heaven, demon's can freely walk on Earth and have done for years now. All the things that were meant to be fairy tales were all true.

You should have thought they were crazy but you didn't. You actually believed them. But only because Castiel proved him angelic abilities by healing the cut on your head.

Then things changed, and not only were you informed on how they met Celeste, you were shocked to find out that they actually saw her more than you. After a while, she stopped coming and visiting you but now you figured out it was because she was helping Dorothy in the land of Oz.

“Okay, so you know her... where is she now?”

No one spoke and you found that strange. Why were they still hiding things from you?

After a few minutes, Sam cleared his throat and began to speak. “Remember Dean said we die a lot? Well one of the times Dean died, he had the mark of Cain.” As in the bible mark of Cain? At this point, it was the least bizarre part of the story and you were willingly to believe anything. “... Well the mark didn't let him die and he became a demon.”

He continued with his story, telling you about him running off with the king of hell, about how he became human again but still had violent tenancies. As the story continued and he spoke about the danger that came from trying to find a spell to remove the mark, you knew nothing good was going to come from this. Then he confirmed it by telling you Celeste had been murdered.

Of course. What else? You should have known. You were destined to be alone in life.

Four sets of eyes looked at you in concern but you hid your sadness. What use would it be to you? There was no need to be a sobbing mess at times like this, it definitely wouldn't help the boys. They should be focusing on the demon that killed Nina. Yes, they had filled you in on the details to convince you to stay with them.

Sam held himself responsible for what had happened but you assured him the Celeste was stubborn. She helped the Winchester's out because they had become important to her, she didn't feel as alone with them and she sacrificed her life because she knew they were supposed to continue with their lives and do better things. This didn't dull the pain, for you or Sam but unlike him, you wouldn't let it show.

Stay strong y/n, it's the best for everyone.

Reluctantly, you smiled at them and nodded your head. “I understand.” The younger Winchester tried to reach out to you as some form of comfort but before he could, you jumped up from your spot next to Jack and looked around the room. “Well, I'm off to bed. It been a long couple of days. You guys should focus on the demon and I'll stop distracting you. Goodnight.”

A series of mumbled, confused voices wished you a goodnight but you could barley hear them with your back turned as you walked down the hall way.

Your mind was made up. You wouldn't mourn for you sister. What was the use? She didn't even bother to visit you in the past few years of her life. Sam and Dean were her family and you had been forgotten. You had no reason to cry. You felt you had no right.

With a sigh, you opened the door to your bedroom and quickly shut it behind you before stripping of your usual clothing and changing into some loose fitting, silk pyjamas that felt like heaven against your skin. Exhaustion was taking a toll on you now so sleep would be gladly welcome. Before you could let yourself become submerged into a much welcome state of unconsciousness, you would have to wash off your make up and brush your teeth first. So that's what you did.

You crossed the hallway and quickly wiped off your make up, hoping Sam and Dean wouldn't be too pissed that you stained the fully white towel with black mascara. Once that was over and your teeth were sufficiently clean, you headed back to your room. Opening the door only to jump as you noticed you weren't alone.

“Holy shit!” You cursed, holding your hand over your heart as you waited for it to calm down to a normal pace. Once it had, you turned back to the nephilim with a curious look in your eyes. “Why are you in my room Jack?”

“I came to check on you before you went to sleep.” Of course he did. Apparently he could sense that you were hiding your emotions but you'd be damned if you told him how you truly felt. “Are you sure that you are okay?”

If you were honest with yourself, you did have a soft spot when it came to Jack. Even after learning that he was literally the spawn of Satan, you could still sense the innocence that radiated off of him. With a small smile, you sat on the edge of your bed and looked over at him. “Why wouldn't I be?”

He looked over at you like he was questioning what to say to you. He didn't want to upset you. “Well, you've just found out your sisters dead after finding your best friends body... you must be having a tough time and I know it doesn't seem fair...”

Without letting him finish his sentence, you cut him off. “You're right, it's doesn't. But that's the world we live in.”

It wasn't fair at all. You were alone at the age of 19 but this is how things had to be. Maybe you were supposed to be like this your entire life and honestly, you weren't going to complain. Losing people sucked, it hurt so much and you weren't sure how much more you could handle.

“Jack...” He looked over to you with bright eyes. “I know Sam said that your a nephilim and that your dad is Lucifer but who's your mother and where is she?”

Having no idea about his situation, he made you curious. He looked uncomfortable with the topic to the point that you almost regretted asking him but then he smiled as he seemed to think about the women that gave him life. “Her name was Kelly Kline.”

Was? Jesus Christ y/n, you're such an idiot. Since he hadn't realised you had figured it out, Jack continued to speak.

“My mother, she's in heaven.” You sighed, resting your hand over his since he had joined you on the bed not too long ago.

“I'm so sorry Jack, if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you.” He smiled and bowed his head in appreciation.

“Thank you y/n.” Nodding your head, you shuffled up the bed as Jack stood up. “If you're sure you are alright, I'll go now.” Once again you nodded, shifting under the unused bed covers while watching him walk towards the door. “Goodnight.”

Happily, you exchanged the same goodnight and let your head hit the pillow. The sound of the door closing signalised that he had gone and now you were actually alone with your thought. Oh how you hated being alone with your thought.

Maybe you could fall asleep quick and hopefully avoid too much thinking.

With that plan in mind, you allowed your eyes to fall shut and soon you were in the land where dreams felt like a reality. Not that it was always a good thing.

Something worth noting about you was that at as a child, you would had been constantly woken up by one of the carers in the foster home because you were screaming due to a bad dream. At that young age, you were scared of falling asleep and the same dream coming to you. Even though you lost your parents when you were a baby, in your mind you could picture how it happened and it was hell. You hated every single nightmare you would have if it involved them. It all seemed too real.

As you became older, your mind seemed to allow you some form of peace. The nightmares weren't a regular occurrence. They still happened occasionally but you were happy enough knowing that they wouldn't plague you every single day.

Unfortunately you didn't take this into account when you found Nina's mind. It didn't even enter your thoughts that they would return with vengeance.

This time you weren't just witnessing your parents murder, Nina was there too and just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, Celeste showed up. The image of blood so vibrant in your mind, you could hardly stand it. The images would haunt you for the rest of your life and they weren't even real. How could your subconscious be doing such things?

A piercing scream echoed through the bunker and Jack was quick to make it to your bedroom where he found you tossing and turning against the sheets, becoming tangled in the bed covers as you tried to escape the terrifying thoughts of your mind.

Jack had never seen anything like that before. Sam and Dean never screamed like you had and Castiel never slept so this was new to the nephilim. Letting his instincts take over, he took a few steps closer to you, gasping as he witnessed tears streaming down your cheeks which had now turned red from where you had worked yourself up in the night. Gently he reached out and shook your shoulder, calling your name quietly so not to startle you.

Though that was his intention, it didn't work. You woke up with a gasp, reaching out to hit him but quickly he picked up a pillow you had tossed at the bottom of your bed to protect his face. “Y/n, calm down. It's me, Jack. I'm not here to hurt you.”

Luckily you recognised his voice and realised Jack was as harmless as they came so you moved your arms back down and looked around at the state of your bed. Gasping as you realised what had just happened. It wasn't real. You could relax. “It was just a bad dream.” You breathed out, sliding your fingers through your hair as you attempted to even out your breathing.

“Are you okay? You were screaming.” Jack asked. Once he realised you had calmed down, he moved the pillow away from himself, showing his face that you could barley see in the darkness your room was surrounded it.

Nodding your head, you reached out and turned on a lamp from the bedside table, illuminating the room and the two of you. “Yeah, I-I'm fine.” You said rather unconvincingly but before he could call you out on your obvious lie, you changed the subject. “Where are the others?” Hopefully they had slept through your ear piercing scream. It was embarrassing enough that Jack had heard you.

“Sam and Dean have gone back to your college, there was another murder so they went to check it out and Castiel decided to join.” He answered after a while, looked over at you in concern.

Another murder? Was this ever going to end? Who was this demon? All these questions and you asked one that probably didn't matter as much. “Why didn't you go?” You assumed he would have wanted to, they seemed like a team so you were surprised that he had stayed here instead.

His innocent eyes met yours and he smiled sweetly. “I thought you'd prefer it if there was someone still here when you woke up. I wanted to be sure that you were okay.”

For a few seconds or minutes, you weren't completely sure, the two of you just looked at each other, admiring the others face. Jack had a rather beautiful face, you thought. However, you shook your head and almost cursed yourself for thinking such a thing. Don't get close. That was your new rule from now on. “Well, I'm fine.”

He nodded and sighed, realising that maybe he should have gone with the Winchester's and his father. Perhaps you wanted to be alone and he should have respected that. Just as he was about to leave though, the boy heard your voice.

“Jack... please don't leave.” You were scared of letting him close, but you were terrified of being alone and that nightmare resurfacing.

Realising your discomfort the nephilim looked at you and nodded softly. “Would you like me to stay here and watch guard? I won't let anything happen, you know.” Reluctantly you nodded your head, hating to show any weakness but grateful for the kindness he was showing you. You could hardly believe he was Lucifer's child.

To your surprise, Jack opted to sit on the floor with his back against the door which made your stomach drop. Guilt seemed to eat away at you. How could you make him sit on the uncomfortable ground when he was doing something to help you?

With a soft sigh, you shifted over to the left side of the double bed and threw the overs of the right side open. “You don't have to stay there, you can lay up here with me.” You noticed him looking at you with doubt but you tried to ease it away with a smile which seemed to work. A few moments later, he had joined you in your bed and you allowed your head to hit the pillow while closing your eyes. “You promise you'll stay here?” Like you always had done where promises were concerned, you lifted your hand and held out your pinky finger to Jack.

Luckily he had seen this on a TV show Dean had been watching before and linked his own with yours. “I promise.” Neither of you moved your pinkies from the other, your hands simply fell on the bed as you slowly fell back to sleep with Jack watching you as your breathing slowed down.

Tag list: @oliolioxiclean @rachembol @chloe-skywalker @fandom-shit-forever @hcliff56 @j2m-destiel-and-more @jaythenephilim @bunnybaby121115 @high-functioning-fangirl473 @killerunicorn3

#dean winchester #Sam Winchester #Charlie Bradbury #castiel #Jack Kline #jack kline x reader #jack kline imagine #imagine #imagines #SPNFamily #SPN FANDOM #spn imagine #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #she had a sister part 2

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 days

Text

DMD!Scarecrow x Maid!Reader (x DMD!Tin Woodman) || Oneshot

Plot: The Scarecrow likes you; he really does. He thinks that you're cute, and just dumb enough to fall for him if he plays his cards right.

... but f u c k, you're sometimes just t o o dumb to handle. And he cant control himself.

But thats his mistake to fix. His.

Not that bleeding heart of a tin can.

Warnings: Possessive manipulative Scarecrow + Scarecrow yells at you and shakes you. Sexual thoughts. Unedited.

"Fuck!" The Scarecrow's voice generally sounded scratchy, like it had to make it through a thicket before it made it out, but now it sounded terrifying to you. He sounded so mad, and when he stood up to assess the damage your clumsy mistake left, all arms and legs - Spiderlike, - , he towered over you by feet. You immediately cowered back, eyes wide and shiny as you covered your mouth just to keep the cry in. "Look what you- Do you know how much work this is, twit!?"

"Y- yes, sir, I'm so sorry- it was an accident- " You didn't mean to drop the pile of parchment you were bringing him! They were so heavy, and you were so tired, they- they- they just slipped! Now they were all over the floor; hundreds of papers and markers spread all over the floor in a horrible mess that you couldn't even fathom pulling together again in any kind of order.

"... An accident." The Scarecrow repeated, a terrible furious tone in his awfully calm, even nightmare-voice. And before you can get out of the way again, cower to a place further away so he cant touch you, he sees red and reaches for you. He grabs you around the arms; the straw in his gloves crunching and straining around your limbs with surprising strength as he shakes you hard, twice. "Jesus christ you're dumb as a box of rocks." He seethes, sneering into your face. "'Accident'." His eyes roll in the fabric, a disturbing sight, though you're too frozen with fear to consider it too hard. "Get out of my sight, girl. Or idiot- whatever you are. Out."

Then he discards you to the floor, like trash, and you stare at him with wide eyes as he starts cleaning up his work- what he really cares about.

He's never hurt you before, you think miserably as tears well up in your eyes. You knew the Scarecrow was known for his cruelty, you knew first hand of his cold and removed, sometimes gleeful attitude towards his experiments, but he had never been that way towards you before. In fact the Scarecrow had always been rather decent towards you; taking you away from your old grunt work and tedious little jobs to help him in his study and allowing you more breaks than you're usual, so long as you spent them in his room with him (because it was your little secret, he'd told you). He would compliment you, calling you smart, and pretty a couple of times, and saying that you're the only one in this whole palace who he liked. That he felt happy around. He was almost... charming. Well, as charming as a mad straw man can be.

But now you saw the truth in his hate-filled, painted-on blue eyes glaring down at you, and you felt stupid. And terrified. But mostly dumb because- because you felt special. He made you feel special.

And you ruined it.

With a final 'i'm so sorry!', you sniffle and scramble up to your knees- rushing out of the study and hopefully as far away as possible.

When you literally crash into the Tin Woodman it hurts like hell, and you cry out; nose throbbing and forehead aching, sure to leave a bruise, but you're still mostly crying from what just happened. When the Tin Woodman looks down at you, this mess of a maid that just randomly ran around a corner and collided with him, in order to tell you not to concern yourself about it and just go back to your duties- he sees a woman absolutely devastated... and becomes confused.

Thats- that seems like an overreaction to their collision.

More awkwardly then he would like to admit, the Tin Woodman clears his throat and speaks down to you like a very unstable person- which you seem to be, to him (Unfortunate, he thinks, and wonders how you achieved a position in the palace.). "Miss- I don't intend to punish you for this. Just... go." You look up at him with wet eyes and something like gratitude, blinking away some of the tears at his words even though your face still hurts. "Go ahead; back to your work now. Thank you- "

When he tries to side step you, you cant bear it. Thats the kindest thing you've ever heard, right now. He's not going to punish you?? Even though you ran right into him??? And he's the Queen's best General???? Immediately you hide your face in your hands and once again and start to cry--causing him to promptly stop and return to his spot in front of you. "I- I'm so sorry... " You manage to weep, struggling to speak through your sobs. "I- Just- Got- Scolded- And- "

"Ah... " The Tin Woodman nods, believing he understands, patting your shoulder gently with razor fingers. "One of the higher ranking maids disciplined you? Oh yes, I know, that can be... difficult. But its necessary, to improve for our Queen Doro- "

"No," Shaking your head, you sniffle. "I- I- it was the Sc- Sc- Scarecrow... " At that, the woodman looks down at you again- looking properly this time.

Oh... this the girl the Scarecrow has been stealing away lately, he thinks. Well... right now, she doesn't seem like much. (But no one looks pretty when they're crying, so I'll reserve judgement for now. The Scarecrow wouldn't put that much effort into an ugly duckling).

"... my old friend can be temperamental these days." The Tin Woodman relents, finally giving into this situation and stroking his hand over the back of your shoulder. She's so pitiful, tear-damp and snotty, and he remembers when he used to cry. It was terrible and uncontrollable, and she's... there's something about her. Maybe he trusts the Scarecrow's judgement that much, or there's just an undeniable quality about this girl that attracts, but he cant judge her. Cant leave her like this. I guess this is what's happening, now, he thinks; sighing.

I suppose I cant have one of my dear Dorothy's servants walking around in less then top notch working order. Yes, that'll be my excuse. Goddamnit.

"I- I- I didn't mean to upset him!! I tried so- so hard! B- b- but my hand slipped- and- papers went everywhere- "

"Mhmm... " The Tin Woodman wasn't entirely sure what had happened between you and the Scarecrow, it was hard to make out the actual situation; but knowing his friend, former brother-in-arms, it was nasty.

While the Tin Woodman comforts you, his large and intimidating mechanical form blocking almost your entire view of the near surroundings, neither of you notice the tall canvas creature turn the corner and stop still; seeing the two of you.

The Scarecrow stares at the scene with irritation. He cant believe it. After weeks of treating you like you're 'special', making you feel better then everyone else, acting 'nice'-- the second he makes one little mistake, one that was completely your fault in the first place, you end up in that fucking tin can's arms. Figures.

How does that bleeding heart even end up in just the right place at just the right time like this!? You ran off aimlessly! Like a scared rat! If Scare didn't know any better in fact, which he does of course, he would think it were planned. It would have been, if it were him; if their positions were reversed. He'd have observed you for weeks, and made sure to be right where you would find him the moment there was an opening to sneak into your life. Slip ever-so-easily into your confidence and your trust.

In fact- he would have caused the incident that made you need him in the first place. More predictable, that way.

... but this is the Tin Man we're talking about. That dummy cant even get Dorothy to like him- and that kid's the most simple, conceited dolt in all of Oz. He didn't mean for this, thats for sure.

The Scarecrow stays silent, watching them. The girl's an ugly crier, he thinks... though a smirk slips across his embroidered mouth. But still, its kind of nice to know a few pointed words can get her that way. She really cares about what I think of her, huh?~

Perfect.

He'll have you in your rightful place on the ground between his legs, the filthy floor all over your pretty knees and your lips all over him, in no time. You'll look perfect with your mouth open- so fucking dumb, and pathetic. He might not have a dick to fill it with, but rest assured he'll find something~

-But its no time to celebrate, yet. Not with... The Scarecrow scowls darkly at the couple in front of him... this, going on.

He has to get the Tin Woodman out of the way. But, hey, considering how you hang onto his words... convincing you that Tin only has the w o r s t intentions for you, shouldn't be hard.

... After a few moments more of thought, the Scarecrow moves forward towards them; guiding you away from the Woodman and feigning the 'sincere' apology that he practised on the way here. His hands are gentle on your cheeks and he's sure to smile softly, apologetically, and he watches the Tin Woodman disappear out of the reflection in your eyes. Just like he should.

#Dorothy Must Die!Scarecrow x Reader Oneshot #Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman x Reader Oneshot #DMD!Scarecrow x Reader Oneshot #DMD!Tin Woodman x Reader Oneshot #Dorothy Must Die!Scarecrow x Reader #Dorothy Must Die!Scarecrow #DMD!Scarecrow x Reader #DMD!Scarecrow #Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman x Reader #DMD!Tin Woodman x Reader #Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman #DMD!Tin Woodman #Onehsot #Dorothy Must Die x Reader #Dorothy Must Die by Danielle Paige

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asreadbydana · 5 years

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February 2019

Hey readers! Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA recently. The second half of the month I just kind of lost the motivation to make posts, but I am feeling better now. I was still reading during that time though, so here is my wrap up for the month:

📚 Books Read

1. The Obelisk Gate by N.K. Jemisin ★★★☆☆ (🎧)

2. An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon ★★☆☆☆ ½

3. The Narrow Road to the Deep North by Richard Flanagan ★★★☆☆ ½ (🎧)

4. Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward ★★★☆☆ ½

5. Dorothy Must Die by Danielle Paige ★★★☆☆

6. Four Weeks, Five People by Jennifer Yu ★★★★☆

7. The Stone Sky by N.K. Jemisin ★★★☆☆ (🎧)

8. Glory O'Brien's History of the Future by A.S. King ★★★★☆

9. The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo ★★★★☆ ½ (🎧)

10. American Street by Ibi Zoboi ★★★★☆ (🎧)

📝 Blog Posts

• Monthly Wrap Up: January 2019

• February TBR

• Reading Journal: January 2019

• Reading Journal: February Set Up

• Reading Journal: Genre Key

• Contemporary-A-Thon TBR

• Top 10 Tuesday: Book Couples

• Tag: 10 Books to Read in 2019

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wickedwritersarewe-blog · 7 years

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Imagine: Dorothy Gale wants you dead (Dorothy Must Die)

“I want her head served on a gold platter with rubies and emeralds right now!” The princess screamed, you interfered with her plans a lot, and this was something she couldn’t stand...

#Dorothy Gale #dorothy must die #dorothymustdie nox #Wizard of Oz #wicked will rise #yellow brick war #end of oz #wickedwritersarewe #dorothy must die x reader #danielle paige

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biggoonie · 5 years

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MERA: TIDEBREAKER TP

written by DANIELLE PAIGE art and cover by STEPHEN BYRNE Princess Mera is teenage royalty and heir to the throne of Xebel, a colony ruled by the other no-so-lost land under the sea, Atlantis. Her father, his court, and the entire kingdom are expecting her to marry and introduce a new king. But Mera is destined to wear a different crown.... When the Xebellian military plots to overthrow Atlantis and break free of its oppressive regime, Mera seizes the opportunity to take control of her own destiny by assassinating Arthur Curry—the long-lost prince and heir to the kingdom of Atlantis. But her mission gets sidetracked when Mera and Arthur unexpectedly fall in love. Will Arthur Curry be the king at Mera’s side, or will he die under her blade as she attempts to free her people from persecution? An astonishing story that explores duty, love, heroism, and freedom…all through the eyes of readers’ favorite undersea royalty. From New York Times best-selling author Danielle Paige (Dorothy Must Die) and artist Stephen Byrne comes a Mera -and-Aquaman story that explores Mera’s first steps on land, and her first steps as a hero or villain, forcing her to choose to follow her heart or her mission to kill. ON SALE 03.27.19 $16.99 US | 6” x 9” 192 PAGES | FC ISBN: 978-1-4012-8339-1

#Mera #Stephen Byrne #Aquaman

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fatbottombucky · 7 years

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Life Starts All Over Again *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Prompt: Farmers Market AU: Biker!Bucky - I have a thing for Bucky in a leather jacket, let me live my best life Sharon! Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 4,890

Drew inspiration also from this quote about fall, so forgive me for making this so fucking long it’s because I can’t function below 1,000 words.

A/N: Huge congratulations to @promarvelfangirl you deserve all the followers, I hope some of mine go over and follow you because you’re such a fantastic writer. Hope what I wrote is good, sorry about the whole ‘extra’ I went with it!

I kinda went skipped over the whole “Must be at least 500 words” Decided to add another ‘0′ at the end of 500, I’m finding it difficult to write stuff as just one-shots. This could’ve easily been a three part fic, but I didn’t want to be that person. - Rosalie

Fall is one of the best seasons; it wasn’t too hot or too cold. It was the perfect in-between, the middle ground that was nice and safe. You didn’t have to dress up too warm; a nice jumper would keep you satisfied. The leaves went from vibrant green to dusty oranges, shades of red and yellow if the sun caught the trees just right they’d look almost aflame. Fall, undoubtedly, had the best aesthetic going on. Woollen clothes, crisp fallen leaves and cute coffee houses. The colour palette for fall was to die for too; berry colours, various shades of orange going into red, plus the browns- with the splurge of the occasional mustard yellow thrown in.

Fall also had the best holiday, Halloween. Halloween is possibly the greatest holiday of the year, also the strangest but spookiest too. The stores are lined with Halloween decorations, the candy that comes out and the movies you are able to watch- since it’s socially unacceptable to watch Hocus Pocus in the spring. Also what comes with fall and Halloween is the pumpkin, traditionally used to eat and cook with but mostly used to carve a scary face into.

It’s why you loved working at the Farmers Market this time of year. Various shapes, colours and sizes, all laid out from biggest to smallest. It made you smile when you watched as kids picked out their pumpkins; a few had been carved beforehand and on display. The smell of pumpkin pie would also float through the air, freshly made from another stall a few down; it was intoxicating and mixed with all the fresh fruits and vegetables. Nothing could beat a good fall farmers market.

Your grandma owned a small fruit and veg shop, although she regularly sold her produce at farmers markets, you quickly stepped forward to help run her small business from the stall, she was getting too old now to sell all the produce herself and her usual help had family problems for the next few weeks. It was a nice atmosphere in autumn, it wasn’t mad panic like in December, and it was just calm and easy.

Today was no different, a few weeks into fall and you were already happy it had begun. The sun was shining through the clouds but the fall breeze dusted your cheeks a pink tinge due to the cold. A thick dark brown jumper kept you from getting too cold, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows as you packaged up a few tomatoes for the older woman before you. Smiling big as she took the bag from you, passing the correct amount of change before moving on down the stalls.

Glancing over to your grandma you see she’s in heavy conversation with a customer, you frowned slightly at the man stood on the other side of the stall. Hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, thick leather jacket and gloved hands; he seemed just as interested in the conversation as your grandma. He looked as though he should be on a motorcycle with a gang or something, he didn’t look like the type to be at a farmers market or even talking to your grandma.

“Y/N, dear, would you help Bucky with the rest of his stuff. I just remembered I’ve got to go see Bill the Butcher,” Your grandma pulled you from your thoughts, you chuckled slightly.

“His name is Martin, not Bill.” She waved you off before walking down the market towards the Butchers stall way down the market road.

You glanced at the man again, now stood in front of you. Admittedly, you didn’t think he’d be that good looking this close up. He wore a sheepish smile and seemed to have kind blue eyes; he was already carrying a few veggies in a bag.

“So, what else do you need?” You slapped on a smile, figuring just staring at the guy would be way too creepy.

He cast his eyes down to the fruits. “Uh-just a few plums, apples and oranges, I guess.” He sounded uncertain; you nodded once and grabbed a paper bag, grabbing a couple of each. “You don’t usually work here.” It was more of a statement than a question, “I mean I’ve never seen you work here before or even at Dorothy’s stall.” He corrected himself quickly.

“No, this is my first time.” You smiled, pricing up his produce. “Dorothy is my grandma; she needed help for a few weeks on the stall, so I stepped forward.” You shrugged and he nodded once, already handing you the correct amount plus extra, only telling you to keep the change.

There was a silent few seconds before a few people stepped up to the stall to look at the produce, he gave a small smile. “Well, it was lovely meeting you.” He says quickly and leaves just as fast, you watch his retreating figure disappear in the crowd of people with raised eyebrows, what a strange man, is the only thing you think to yourself.

“So, did you help Bucky okay?” Your grandma’s voice startles you, you hadn’t noticed she had come back so soon, you look and frown at her before walking around the stall and arranging the fruits again. “The man I left you with, I trust you helped him out okay?” You nodded at her, shrugging slightly, why was she so fixated on if you helped him?

You glance up and look at the elderly lady, white hair pulled back into a bun. Green knitted cardigan, plus black apron on, slightly shorter than you. “Where’s the meat?” You asked she looked up from her notebook that she carried. “You went to go see the butcher, where’s the meat?”

“They didn’t have what I wanted, so I made a request for tomorrow.” She simply answers, sitting down on the stool beside the stall. “Bucky is the customer that visits the shop regularly, him and his best friend walk me home sometimes if I stay late here. I just wanted to know he got everything he needed,” she shakes her head and you narrow your eyes at the old woman. “What did you think of him?”

You groaned loudly. “I knew it. I knew there was reasons you did that, will you stop meddling in my love life and let me live my life?” You sigh with a slight eye roll, trying to be careful as you rearrange the lemons on the stall.

“It’s been nearly a year since Shayne, I just want you to move on and be happy again.” You nod once, smiling as she smiles back at you. “I’m not going to be around forever, you know that, don’t you?”

“I am happy, I’ll find someone but in my own time. It’s not going to be some dude that occasionally buys fruit from you,” you chuckled and she shrugged as you went back to running the stall. “Besides he’s so, not my type. He’s got that bad boy vibe, I’m not about to get on the back of some motorcycle with a gang member.” Your grandma chuckled at that, rolling her eyes with a small sigh, muttering something under her breath that you don’t seem to catch.

You kept helping around the stall; Bucky would show up from time to time, only talking to your grandma which for some reason that irked you. You didn’t want it to annoy you but it did. You were nice and helpful the first time you met him, you smiled and then he quickly walked off into the crowd.

“Where’s Dorothy?” You look up from your book to Bucky, standing over the stall staring down at you.

“She’s running the shop today, Mandy phoned in sick.” You glance back down to your book, not reading but looking as though you are, “would you like me to phone her? Seems you can’t buy an orange without her assistance,” the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You quickly glance up to see him nodding slowly. “Its fine, I can buy fruit myself. Just weird not seeing her here, I guess.” He completely brushes off your snide comment, thankfully. Bucky grabbed a bag filling it with a few plums, “I wasn’t even going to buy anything but I felt the need to prove a point.” He places the correct change on the side, smiling once before leaving again.

You instantly feel bad for making such a comment to him. He hadn’t done anything to you, not that it mattered; you shouldn’t have been so bitchy to him. You grab the money and put it away, hoping he’d come back in a few days so you could apologise to him before he told your grandma how much of a bitch you are.

“So, he shows up on days at time but then you won’t see him for weeks at time too?” You asked thoughtfully, your grandma nodded as she bagged up celery and passed it to the man paying. “What does he do for work then?”

Your grandma chuckled. “I made a promise not to tell,” you raised an eyebrow at her curious wording. “For a girl that went to University for Law you aren’t very perspective on picking up details on people, are you dear?”

“You’re too cryptic for a woman your age,” you shot back with a small smile that earned a light chuckle from her in response. “Speak of the devil,” you mutter to yourself as you see Bucky slowly maundering through the farmers market. He smiles politely at other vendors, talking up a storm before grinning at your grandma.

He had opted for his hair down, which was a first. You didn’t realise how long his hair was, it brushes his stubbly chin and he was wearing just a blue jumper and jeans, staple leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He looked good, you hated to admit that. You ignore the easy chatter he had with your grandma, opting to sort through the remaining crates of the veg in the van. Picking up one, despite it being too heavy for you, you huff as you try to carry it over to the stall only for it to be removed from your arms.

“Hey, I totally could carry that.” You argue with the back of Bucky’ head as he nodded slightly, placing it down where your grandma pointed to. “Can you not have someone else do my job, I was fine.” She nodded once; you knew she was rolling her eyes at you to Bucky behind your back. “I’m going for a break,” you sighed, your grandma nodded once as you pulled off your apron and walked away and down the market.

You strolled for a good five minutes in silence, waving at a few people that you knew. Smiling slightly at a family, who had excitable children, they were picking out a few pumpkins to carve.

“Y/N?” You glance over your shoulder to see Bucky jogging up to you, you frowned and turned to him. “Have I done something to offend you in any way? If I have then I am sorry, wasn’t my intention.”

You sighed and shrugged slightly. “You haven’t done anything, I’m not mad at you, truly.” You tell him only making Bucky frown at you. “It’s just this… season, I guess. Brings back a lot of old memories, thought helping my grandma out would take my mind off of things but it hasn’t.” You try to explain without actually giving away anything to him, he nods once slowly.

“Well, happy that I didn’t cause the bad mood, I tend to have a habit of doing that to people.” You chuckled lightly along with him, “I’ll let you get back to your break, hope the autumn starts looking up for you.” He smiles down at you; you nod once and smile back.

“Hey, wait,” you call slightly and Bucky stops a few steps away and you gesture with your thumb over your shoulder, “you ever had Maurice’s homemade pumpkin pie?” Bucky shakes his head, placing his hands in his jean pockets. “Well, you seriously need to sort out your life choices, honestly. C’mon, that’s if you’re not busy?” You asked he shrugged nodded, smiling as he followed you through the crowd to the van parked, table and chairs placed beside it.

Maurice had been selling his homemade pumpkin pie since you could remember. He was an older man, silver hair and loud personality. He had recently been bringing his son, hoping that one day he would take over the business. You waved with a big grin, earning a smile from both men leaning through the window of the food van.

“Y/N!” Maurice yelled, “I was wondering when I’d be seeing you,” you laughed slightly. “Who is the strapping lad beside you,” he asked, yelling to his son to get you both a slice of pie, on the house, as always.

You placed a hand on Bucky’ shoulder and pulled him closer to see Maurice, “this is Bucky. He has never had any of your homemade pumpkin pie, so I had to bring him along, obviously.” Maurice looked slightly horrified at Bucky, raised eyebrows before turning around and getting two his best slices, even though they always taste the best, no matter what.

Bucky takes both plates and sitting down at one of the made-up tables, you followed with two sets of plastic knives and forks, handing him his. You sit down, nodding for Bucky to take his first bite; he was hesitant but slowly put a piece into his mouth and chewed slowly. It was a few seconds before his eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up and mouthing a small, ‘whoa’.

“Don’t ask about the recipe, I don’t think even his son knows what it is and he’s meant to take over the business soon.” You chuckled eating your own piece; it’s silent for a few seconds.

“You gonna take over your Dorothy’s business?” You glance up and he’s watching you, eating his piece slowly and you shrug, eating another piece instead of answering. “She mentioned you went and did Law at university, what happened? Is that too personal?” He chuckled, “sorry, I shouldn’t ask a question like that, should I?”

You nod slowly, choosing to finish your piece of pie instead of answering, giving yourself time to think of the correct wording. You hadn’t really talked about what happened, not in real detail, not even with your grandma.

“I did that real cliché thing of falling for a guy, jetting off to LA with him and then… it fell apart.” You shrugged smiling despite it, you sighed slightly. “So, nowhere to go and then my grandma needed help, so I ran from LA and… here I am.”

Bucky nodded. “Here you are indeed,” he chuckled finishing his piece of the pie.

“So, what do you do?” You smiled changing the subject, resting your elbows on the table and resting your chin in the palm of your hand. “My grandma wouldn’t tell me when I asked, said she ‘made a promise’, so, why so secretive?”

He smirks, a little lift of the left side of his mouth with a raised eyebrow. “You asked about me?”

You shrugged. “Of course, a guy dressed in a leather jacket, bad boy vibes and is talking to my grandma like they’re best friends-“

“We are best friends, thank you.” He interrupts with a playful smile.

“Whatever, I was curious as to why someone like you was interested in being buddies with my grandma. I’m protective; don’t need her getting involved in some biker gang.” You shrugged slightly with a small chuckle at his reaction to that.

He shakes his head, mocking being offended by that. “I am not in some gang, plus I am away on vacation from work, I don’t really want to discuss it.” You raised an eyebrow at his simple brush off of the question, although choosing not to pry, just yet about it.

“I better get back to work,” You stand up and he follows, standing opposite with an awkward smile. “I guess, I’ll see you sometime soon considering you can’t stay away from my grandma too long.” You joke, he laughs.

“I don’t know, Dorothy’s assistant has caught my eye too,” he cheekily winks before walking around you and down the market. You’re left watching after him, mouth agape at that and he looks over his shoulder throwing a little wave and smile.

It had been a few days since you had last seen Bucky, admittedly you had been thinking about him, more than you wanted or cared to admit. There was just something about him that you couldn’t put your finger on, he wasn’t like the usual guys you liked or had even met. It had been a while since a guy had made you feel like this, the last guy left you heartbroken and you didn’t want that again.

You give a gentle sigh as you walked through the farmers market, it had been less busy today and your grandma decided she could handle it on her own. At least you wouldn’t have to see Bucky today, a small part of you hoped you would see him before you left but the smarter part made you walk a little faster in case you bumped into him as you left.

You sighed as you see the crowd thinning out, meaning you were close to leaving the farmers market. The rumbling of a bike engine catches your attention, you lift your head and feet instantly stop at the sight before you. Bucky parking his motorcycle on the side of the road, he ran a hand through his hair and unzipped the tight black leather jacket revealing an equally tight white V-neck underneath. You looked around, quickly turning to a stall and a blush rising to your cheeks; hopefully, him and no one else saw you openly gawking at him.

You blinked a couple of times at the items in front of you, trying to regain your breathing to something normal. Till you feel a tap on your shoulder, you cursed softly and turned, Bucky was grinning widely at you. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him for this exact reason.

“Hey Y/N,” you smiled and nodded. “You are leaving already?” He asked, nodding to your bag in your hand and jacket slung over under the other.

“Yeah, it’s not that busy today, so I am free to go.” You shrugged and started to pull on your jacket, smiling as he nodded slowly, placing his own hands in his leather jacket pockets.

It’s a moment of silence. “I was actually here to ask if you wanted to, um, go for coffee or something.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Or, you know, I don’t know just… hang out.”

You raised your eyebrows at him; did he just ask you out? You should say no, you definitely need to say no. “Sure, I’m not busy right now.” You cursed yourself, why did you say yes? You should’ve said no but the smile that lights up his face makes you temporarily forget what you just did. “There’s a coffee shop just across the street, they sell great hot chocolates.” You nod to the small coffee house across the street; he nods with a small smile and follows you across the street.

You stand at the counter ordering your hot chocolates before sitting at a table close to the window. You blow on the cup, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate before looking at Bucky. He had taken off his jacket, you tilted your head slightly and narrowed your eyes, he looked oddly familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You shake the thought away, meeting his eyes and smiling shyly as he sipped his own hot chocolate in comforting silence.

“So, I got to be honest with you,” Bucky sighs placing his mug down and you frown a little concerned; he looked tentative about whatever he was going to tell you. “I like you, have since I saw you working on the stall.” He admits a blush creeping up on his cheeks; you flush a light shade of pink at his confession. “You got something about you, a fire within you and I like that. I was wondering... if you'd give me a chance- I mean, can I take you on a date?”

You look down at the table, watching the steam leave your hot chocolate, debating over what he just said to you. Your heart hammering inside your chest, “Okay, sure…” You trail off and look up at him, he grins and you nod shyly. “I’m not getting on your bike though,” you tell him and he rolls his eyes.

Bucky got your number and gave you the details for the date, although the night before had to reschedule due to work issues. He didn’t reschedule this time, thankfully. You dressed in a maroon skater skirt with a white blouse, tights and ankle boots. Your hair was styled to perfection; you had also found an old denim jacket that would keep you warm in the fall evening. A light tap on your door signalled that he was already here for you, you took a few deep breathes before opening the door with a small smile.

He was dressed in his usual leather jacket, a nice white shirt and dark jeans. Honestly, he always looked good so you didn’t expect anything less from him. He holds out a bunch of daisies, you smile and quickly walk to the kitchen to place them in water coming back to find him still waiting, patiently, by the door. Taking his offered arm and walking out, the autumn breeze making you shiver despite you not being cold.

You walk in comfortable silence through the streets, till, “Are we walking to the farmers market?” You asked with a frown. You recognised the walk; you took this walk every day. “You do know it’ll be deserted, right? It’s no longer up and running, not till 9am!” You chuckle.

Your chuckle stops when you see by Maurice’s food van is a table set out, a few pumpkins that were carved earlier today out with a candle inside and fairy lights are strung from trees to the van. You let go of his arm and walk towards the table, eyebrows rising at the cheese fondue set out. You glance to Bucky and see him smiling widely, shrugging despite this being the most thought-out date ever.

He helps you into your chair, sitting in one opposite you and pouring wine too. “I honestly didn’t have you done as the romantic type,” you confess, knowing you’re blushing just from the sheer thought of this.

“When are you going to realise I am not some bad boy in a biker gang?” He asked a hint of amusement laced his words; you shrugged as he rolled his eyes.

“When you tell me what you do for work.”

He nods. “So, tell me something about yourself?” He changes the subject with a small smirk, cocking an eyebrow as he dips the bread into the cheese fondue.

You think for a few seconds, watching him as he eats before shrugging. “Well, I studied law for a year-“

“No, I don’t want to know about that.” He interjects. “Tell me your dreams, aspirations, what do you want?” He smiled a little and you nod slightly.

“I don’t know what I want.” You admit and he nods. “I guess, to be happy. To get back on my feet, maybe open my own stall in a market someday. I’ve done everything everyone else wanted me to do; finding what I want to do is hard.” Bucky smiled and nodded in agreement.

“You’ll find something and you’ll be great at it.” He grinned and you chuckled, shrugging at his optimism. “ Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” He shrugged and you raised your eyebrows at him, not expecting that. “I’m secretly a philosopher, you should know that.” You giggled, throwing a piece of bread at his head.

The rest of the date was full of laughter, flirty comments from Bucky and a lot of blushing on your part. You had finished the cheese fondue, sitting in each other’s company as you watched a tree slowly lose its leaves and fall to the floor. This was the first time, in a long time; you hadn’t brought up your previous relationship. This was the first time, in a long time; you felt that same happiness, if not something more than that.

"I had never been here when no one else is here, it's... nice." You comment, mostly to yourself, looking around at all the empty stalls and deserted street.

Bucky nudges your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “Want to start heading back? I don’t want us staying out, might catch a cold.” He smiles, you nod and grab your jacket and begin a slow walk back to your place.

You both laugh as you each try to step on the fallen leaves, listening to the sound of them crunching underneath your shoes. You felt like a kid, almost. Bucky’s laugh was also contagious, it was loud and full body, he’d throw his whole body back and let out the loudest chuckle you’d ever heard. It was endearing as it was funny.

“I had a really good time tonight, thank you.” You smile up at Bucky who was grinning, hands in his pockets as he shrugged, a light blush dusting his cheeks. For a guy that looks edgy, he sure was a blushing nerd a lot of the time.

He chuckles slightly. “Don’t thank me; I should be thanking you for giving me a chance, despite my rugged exterior.” He smirks as you roll your eyes, smiling softly as he sighs looking at you.

You can hear the breeze blowing fallen leaves down the street, you feel it brush through your hair and making you shiver, unless that was caused by the way Bucky was looking down at you. A small smile tugging at his lips as his eyes darted from yours down to your lips; you instinctively licked your lips before standing on your toes. He took that as all the confirmation he needed, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. It’s slow and soft, a kiss you didn’t expect from him. He pulls away, a little too early for your liking but his smile is worth it.

“Now I should really thank you,” you slap his shoulder and laugh, kissing his cheek softly before walking up to your home, giving a little wave to Bucky who blows a kiss and walks to his bike, swinging his leg over it and starting it up before driving off.

You couldn’t help but think of what he had said tonight, Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall. It was true, your life had started over last fall when things ended and you had to run back here. Now... it’s starting all over again, for the better, you hoped.

BONUS: (cause ya girl, had to make this funny because ugh too much cheese, I’m lactose intolerant (for reals))

You frowned as you hear multiple sounds of bike engines, walking around the stall you see in the distance around seven bikers all park. All of them getting off, pulling their helmets off and walking through the farmer’s market crowd. Bucky waved at Maurice before grinning at you; you raised an eyebrow at Bucky looking over his shoulder at the others all waiting for him.

“I knew you were part of a gang.” You grin and he shakes his head.

“It’s not a gang; they’re my friend we’re riding to work, thank you.” Bucky rolls his eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “I’m in a band, it’s literally the most obvious job for me, and you’re not very perceptive are you?” He chuckled as you slapped his arm multiple times.

You chuckled. “I’m perceptive enough to know you were in a gang,” he sighed softly as you continued to laugh. “Seriously, what is your band called?” You asked and he kicked his foot, pursing his lips looking at you. “Tell me, please?” You asked, fluttering your lashes as he sighed.

“The Avengers.” You died with laughter, right then and there. “Hey, stop laughing. We’re a serious band, I’m the lead guitarist.” He huffs and you stand up, looking at him wiping the tear from the corner of your eye. “We sing pretty deep stuff, thank you.”

You nod, feeling bad that you had laughed at him and his band mates. “I wouldn’t say deep, we have a song about Bucky forgetting his name that one time.” A man, taller than Bucky, with a kind smile chuckles. “I’m Steve, his best friend, you must be the girl that Bucky has written like six-” Before Steve can finish talking Bucky is getting him into a headlock.

“He wrote a song and named it Farmers Market Girl,” A woman with red hair, the similar black jacket as Bucky’s, shrugged as she picked up a few avocados and placed them into a bag. “Probably, the cheesiest song I’ve had to sing.”

“It’s funny cause he made cheese fondue for the date, nice joke.” Steve grinned as Bucky looked grumpy, glaring at his friends and bandmates.

As they all begin to shop around the farmer's market, you look at Bucky with a big grin and he sighs loudly, knowing what you’re going to say. “I cannot believe you’ve written songs about me.”

“I mean, Farmers Market Girl is definietly about Dorothy but the other five, obviously about you.” He shrugs kissing you softly.

(I don’t know about the ending, honestly, I don’t know what I have written. But it’s a lot. Probably, could delete like 2k words and it’d be better. Also, farmers markets where I am from are weirdly chaotic, so I tried to make this last like what i know them to be, hope it came out well. Hopefully, this goes up at 12pm on Wednesday UK time, I’ll be mid shift on my first day of a new job, so wish me luck lol. Love you Sharon, hope this makes you smile or laugh. Rosalie)

#pmfg2k #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes one shot #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier one shot #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagines #avengers x reader

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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 7 years

Text

Divided We Fall (OUAT - Peter Pan x Reader) Part 4

Requested by @ajakral

Synopsis: Who said there were no girls on Neverland? Who said Peter Pan ruled over this world on his own? On the other side of the island, far from the mermaid lagoon, the echo cave and the skull rock – that’s where (Y/N) and her girls lived. Because behind every great man there is an even greater woman, what would the king be without his queen?

A/N: Doesn’t star any OUAT characters apart from Pan, Felix and Wendy.

Word count: 2.4k

Part 3 <<< >>> Part 5

MASTERLIST

“Up and in line everyone!” (Y/N) ordered and her girls stood in the usual order within seconds, dropping everything they were doing. In a single swift motion, she threw a thick wooden stick to one of the younger girls who fumbled a bit before catching it, out of surprise.

“You can't hesitate, if someone else than me throws something else at you, you need to catch it,” she said and paced in front of the girls. When she reached the same girl again, (Y/N) threw her elbow at her, aiming for the face but this time she caught it before it hit her. “Better,” (Y/N) congratulated her with a smirk.

It was still raining, they had just eaten a good meal, it was the exact opposite of what you called good fighting conditions. Perfect.

“These are the worst conditions you can find yourself in during a fight,” (Y/N) continued. “Pair up!”

In a common movement, all the Lost Girls moved to face up their partner. They paired up with girls of the same strength – (Y/N) shook her head.

“No, not like that. Mingle with the stronger ones, challenge yourself because there is no honor in winning against someone you know you can defeat.”

They changed partners and shared confused looks as they did so.

“Fight, and I want to see you use the elements to your advantage. It's raining, it's muddy, the sounds of nature cover anything else, use it.”

As soon as the words crossed her lips, the girls executed her orders. The smaller, weaker ones attacked first because that's what (Y/N) taught them to do – to strike before their adversary gets a chance to hit them. If you're smaller, it means you're faster. If you're bigger then you can knock your enemy out faster. Sybil and her cunning ways was the first to dive to the ground and swing her leg around to sweep the other girl off her feet and make her slip in the mud.

“Good Sybil! Everyone look at that! That's what I'm talking about. Don't be afraid to play dirty literally and figuratively, Neverland isn't a playground and next time a bunch of Lost Boys come here, I want you to make them eat the ground.”

She made the girls fight and fight and fight again, keeping up the rhythm until they were wetter from sweat than rain. They panted, covered in mud and blood, pointlessly trying to rub away the dirt with the back of their equally dirty hands while dodging blow after blow.

“What the hell is wrong with her?!” Sybil groaned in between a couple punches.

She ducked forward when Dorothy leaped toward her and tried to hit her shoulder. Sybil hurt her shoulder last month, everyone knew that. But it was fair game, she didn't hold grudge against her sister. It was a weakness and she exploited it, like (Y/N) had instructed.

“Shut up or you'll be on watch duty for the next two centuries,” Dorothy replied and attacked again. Her hair kept flying in her eyes and the rain made it stick to her forehead and momentarily blinded her.

“What is it with her today?! Why is she such a pain in the-”

“Sybil?” (Y/N) interrupted the girls' fight and grabbed the poor Sybil's arm. “Got something to say?”

“Yes!” She snapped, letting her emotions take precedence over her head and stepping closer to her leader instead of backing down like a wise person would have. “What's going on? Why are you venting on us? What's the deal with you today?!”

“My deal-” (Y/N) began, talking between her teeth and tightening her grip on Sybil who winced in pain. “-is my business. You stay quiet and do as I say, or you can run off into the jungle and throw your little pity party there. If you interrupt training once more, I'll personally see to your punishment.”

Sybil turned a few shades whiter and her pupils lost in size. Fear sizzled in the air as rain showered them.

“No dinner for you tonight. You're on first watch. Dorothy-” (Y/N) said and the girl's eyes moved from her friend to her leader. “-You pair up with Tina and teach her the basics again, she still can't throw a proper kick.”

She didn't say a word but moved over to where the young blond girl called Tina stood, with her arm hanging each side of her body, trembling in fear. The partner was already walking towards Sybil to face her new adversary.

“Congratulations everyone, you get two more hours of training and you can thank Sybil for that. I'm leaving but don't think for a second that I won't know it if you stop before I say it's over.” (Y/N) clapped her hands – the signal for the Lost Girls to resume their fighting. “If you're not too sore to move tomorrow, it means you did it wrong.”

“If every muscle in your body doesn't scream for you to stop then you haven't given it all yet,” Pan philosophized while circling around the heavy breathing girl at his feet. “Do better or die out there.”

“What's out there?” (Y/N) asked before rubbing the blood away from her split lip.

It didn't stop the bleeding though, and bruises were already forming here and there all over her body. She simply couldn't do it – what he asked of her was too much.

“Why, the world of course!” Pan said with a smirk. “If you're not tougher than the world, it'll kill you, don't you know?” He knelt down to be at eye level with (Y/N) and she had to refrain from spitting in his face. “Get on your feet little lamb, or the big bad wolf will get you.”

“Who's the big bad wolf in this dumb metaphor?” (Y/N) scoffed in disdain, blood dripping from her nose as she slowly stood up, along with Peter. “You?!” There was so much scorn in her voice that she couldn't even blame Pan for the following blow.

Her feet left the ground and (Y/N) immediately raised her hands before her face to protect herself and closed her eyes, ready to take the blow, get the air knocked out of her and to receive another bruise in some painful place. But it never came. (Y/N)'s jaw was still clenched in fear and anticipation when she dared open one eye to see what was happening and the only thing she saw was that Pan wasn't there anymore. Or rather, she wasn't with Pan anymore.

Not a second ago she was surrounded by trees and now she stood on the edge of a cliff by the sea. Neversea was a forbidden place – no Lost Boy was allowed to get in the dark waters. Most of the island was surrounded by sharp rocks anyway, there was only one sand beach, the rest of Neverland was as hostile as one would expect.

A series of sharp edged rocks led the way to the water several meters below. Despite the seemingly deadly territory she was in, the call of the void was strong. Tempting. It was mesmerizing, it sang to her and (Y/N) stepped forward against her best judgment.

“Hello?!” (Y/N) screamed out. Her voice echoed against the rocks but no one answered. “Where the hell am I now?” She wondered out loud.

There was still no answer but this time around she heard voices. She couldn't make out what they were saying but she wanted, needed to know and it somehow made her take another step towards the edge. The sound of the waves hitting the bottom the the cliff was loud and regular, it lulled her and covered the voices she tried to hard to decipher. Her feet moved as though thy had a will of their own. It felt a little wrong, (Y/N) wanted to fight against this invisible force that compelled her to move but this urge didn't take precedence over the need to find the source of the chants.

Where did it come from? Who was singing so beautifully? Whose void pierced through the mist of the sea? It was pure madness but her raised foot hovered over the void – there was no more ground to put her foot on but she couldn't stop moving forward, the wind pushed her from the back and the voices pulled her toward the sea.

“What are you doing, you foolish girl?!” A voice exclaimed from behind her, snapping (Y/N) out of her reverie.

She felt a tight grip on her upper arm and was abruptly pulled back on the land, away from an imminent death. It was like being ripped out of a stupidly vivid dream too fast and waking up feeling dizzy and lost.

“Pan?” (Y/N) asked confusedly. “Did you hear this?”

“Of course I did, everyone does. Don't listen to them, they'll lure you to a certain and painful death.”

This at least made her come back to her senses.

“What the hell was that? Get your hands off of me!”

“I just saved your life, I would advise you show a little gratefulness,” Peter scoffed and released her once he had dragged her far enough from the sea and its mysterious call. “It's not my touch that you should fear but the sirens. If they got their hands on you, you'd be a goner.”

“I'd rather throw myself off this cliff and get eaten by magical creatures than have your filthy hands touch me – and I already told you multiple times that I'm not scared of you.”

Peter dropped his hand and looked at her more intently, making her feel as though he was seeing right through her instead of at her. (Y/N) shivered of disgust and repressed the urge to rub away the feeling of his touch on her skin. He didn't believe her, that much was obvious, but she wouldn't contradict him again. If he wanted to underestimate her then so be it.

“You disappeared, well done,” he eventually congratulated her as though she accomplished some extraordinary deed.

It must have been pretty fantastic since he barely acknowledged her perseverance - if not skill - during their training sessions but suddenly complimented her.

“I didn't do it on purpose,” she said, chin still raised high. There was no point in trying to pass it as talent, she did it on accident and wouldn't be able to do it again if he asked her. “Where are we?”

“The mermaid lagoon,” he scoffed in a way that suggested that he hated this place. “Don't let the pretty name fool you, it's the most hellish part of this entire island. Mermaids will lure you to a certain death if you let your guard down for so much as a second.”

“While you're all rainbows and butterflies and do not threaten my life at all,” (Y/N) snickered sarcastically, earning a stern glare.

She expected Peter to physically punish her for this bold comment, to suspend her in the air, tackle her to the ground, or magically strangle her but he did none of it and simply turned around - trusting she would follow him and not be stupid enough to take a chance on the lagoon. It was a tough choice for her nonetheless and (Y/N) seriously considered running in any other direction than the one Peter was. Thoughts ran wild in her head for a second, but she just literally vanished in thin air before his eyes and he still managed to find her, so how could she even hope to escape by foot?

“Move!” He barked at her form a fair distance. “Training's far from being over, I see you still have some fight in you so you go back at it until you're too tired to insult me.”

(Y/N) thought that she'd have to be dead for that to happen, but she still obliged and silently followed his steps through the thick greenery of Neverland.

At the end of the day, Peter couldn't simply isolate himself from his Lost Boys endlessly and he had to return to camp after a few more hours of sulking at his thinking tree. Even he couldn't call it anything but sulking. Denying this to himself was pointless and he was in his damn right to act like a child if he wanted to – he was the ultimate forever child, who could blame him for acting like one?

“Shadow,” Peter called from the top branch of his tree, high enough to give him a view of the creek and Skull Rock.

It appeared almost right away, as though it constantly lurked in the dark, waiting for its master to whistle. For this alone Peter despised it but he couldn't deny how useful it was. It complete missions like no Lost Boy ever did. The only person who ever came close to this was (Y/N) – that is, until she turned against Peter. Felix could rot in his tree for all Peter cared, he was a poor second in command most of the time, but still the most capable of the Boys. It really spoke volumes about the state of Pan's little army. Pitiful.

The Shadow floats in the air before Peter, blocking his view and waiting orders like the perfect silent soldier. Peter often thought that if the Shadow could talk it would quickly go from his favorite to least favorite minion.

“What's she doing?” He asked in a flat voice – he didn't know why he felt so compelled to fake detachment when he spoke to the Shadow, but he did it. All the time. There was no other way he knew of to deal with the jumble of emotions he felt.

The Shadow shook its faceless head in defeat. Peter had grown to learn how to interpret the Shadow's body language. The Lost Girls' camp was sizzling with tension today, probably like his own camp. (Y/N) was a mess of wild emotions she refused to deal with, and she let out the steam by giving the rough side of the hand to her girls. He sighed deeply. As soon as he raised a hand toward the sky and flicked his wrist, the rain stopped. Peter rarely changed the weather the way he just did, but he knew that (Y/N)'s mood wouldn't improve as long as the storm went on.

“You won't be giving her the usual flower, today I need you to do something else for me...”

A/N: I know I take fucking forever to update, thanks for bearing with me y’all, you’re the best!

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