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mrs-kmikaelson · 10 months

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05| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader Summary: As you settle back into the Quarter, you juggle your personal and new professional life—but with the Mikaelsons, it was almost as if there was no difference between the two. Warnings: none Words: 5.6K

Masterlist | Part 6

a/n: i see this series getting long, guys; just letting you know. btw, i'm pretty much unoccupied, so u can expect new posts for this series and possibly other imagines like every 2-3 days. and tysm for all the support! anyway, i'll let you get to reading now.

I walked into the Abattoir with a façade of confidence. I was now completely sober, facing the repercussions of my drunken actions. It'd been about a week since my agreement with Elijah and he'd only just called me in to speak with him yesterday.

I was currently cursing my drunk self, but at least Marcel was now allowed back into the Quarter without any fuss. Of course, he wasn't allowed back into the slaughterhouse, but he did compel himself a nice little townhouse a few minutes of human-walking away from my place.

In New Orleans, it was always better to live in the Quarter than anywhere else. This was the heart of the city's supernatural happenings. You were both safest here and also at most danger. But I guess, if you had enemies, you wanted to be in the Quarter because, if you had a crew to roll with, then nobody would really try you.

That's how it used to be at one point in time, and that's what the factions were trying to achieve now.

I was immediately greeted after making it past the gates. "Y/N," Elijah said, walking towards me, hands held out. He wrapped an arm around me, walking me to the couches in the middle of the courtyard. I tried not to show any discomfort at the physical touch. "It's lovely to see you."

I chuckled a little. "Feeling's mutual," I replied, causing the nobleman to let out a little laugh himself. I sat down on one of the couches while he sat on the other. "So, what have we got today?"

He sighed, "The withes are unhappy because of- all due respect, Marcellus' actions."

Right. Marcel forbade anyone to do magic. While I understand his reasoning, trying to protect a little witch by the name of Davina Claire, it was cruel. To ask a witch to go without magic was like asking a human not to breathe; it was damn near impossible.

Even though I get what he was trying to do, I still didn't agree with it—but that didn't mean that I agreed with what the New Orleans witches were doing either.

"So I've heard. But I'm sure you're aware of why he did what he did." He was; otherwise, I wouldn't have brought it up. I wouldn't do anything to endanger Davina; she'd become like a family to me. I knew that the Mikaelsons knew all about Davina, the harvest, and whatnot.

"Yes, of course. To protect Davina, I understand. She is special, without a doubt." Elijah's voice with filled with nothing other than conviction; I'd expect nothing less when people were speaking about Davina.

I smiled thinking about her. "Yes, she is."

"However, it still hasn't done us any favours on a community-wide scale." Elijah ran a hand through his hair. "The witches' spokesperson, Genevieve, is just about furious with the treatment they've received." A look suddenly appeared on his face. "And considering the... interactions my family has had with her, I wouldn't want to anger her further, especially since Hayley is with child."

This was the first time my heart didn't stop at the mention of Klaus' unborn baby. Instead, I was too focused on the witch Elijah named: Genevieve. Now, this was a name Marcel had somehow neglected to inform me about, but I was well aware of who she was.

From my understanding, Rebekah Mikaelson killed her the same year the Mikaelsons fled New Orleans, sometime in the early 1900s. Marcel spilled the whole story to me one night when he was drunk.

Genevieve died. Yet, according to Elijah (and I know this is not a coincidence) she's alive leading the NOLA coven.

Great.

I responded after a beat, bringing my hands together. "Okayyy, so what are we doing?"

"Making the witches happy, love."

Now my heart stopped.

I turned my head to see Klaus just finishing walking down the stairs. "Elijah tells me you're our new... fixer." He shrugged, making his way to the minibar. "So fix it."

"Niklaus."

"Get a grip, Elijah. I don't think I'm offending the young woman," he said before turning to face me. "Am I offending you, love?"

I skipped the whole processing bit of this situation and dived straight into my persona. "Not at all."

Klaus made a gesture to me with his hand, turning back to his brother. "See, Elijah. Marcel's right hand has tough skin." Elijah responded with a much more exhausted sigh than before, rubbing his hand on his face. Klaus ignored this, turning back to me with a bottle of bourbon in his hand. "Want me to pour you a glass, Y/N?"

"It is ten o'clock in the morning, Niklaus."

"All the more reason," he quipped back. "Y/N?"

I tried to loosen up, but my smile probably came out a little more tense than I originally intended. "I'm good; thank you."

Klaus looked at me for a few seconds before shrugging and pouring his own glass. Elijah took this opportunity to continue, but not before letting out another sigh. "As I was saying before my brother so tersely interrupted us, Genevieve has agreed to meet with us after I told her that you—Marcel's right hand, as Niklaus put it—were going to be representing us."

I tried to focus all my attention on the task at hand instead of my absent father who kept looking over at me periodically. I remembered what this was like when I did it for Cellie; I just had to get back in the game. "So, if you are looking to make an agreement of some sort, what are you willing to negotiate—give up, even?"

Just as Elijah was about to answer, Klaus briskly cut him off. "Oh, that's all on you, love." I narrowed my eyes slightly and he elaborated. "You decide then and there what you think is fair." He shrugged again, and although he looked carefree, he also had a smug look on his face that I doubt he was even trying to hide. "Ball's in your court." This was a test.

I didn't ponder on that for too long, nodding to him. "I can do that."

Klaus nodded back. He looked like he wanted to say something, but a quick look from Elijah seemed to make him want to hold his tongue. Thank God.

While I seemed like I was coming a long way, just the mere idea of holding a conversation with this man was terrifying. There were so many things I was holding my tongue about. It was just lucky that I so happened to be 500 years old. A few, quick conversations with my dad who had no idea I was his illegitimate child would not break me. Maybe it fucked with my head, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

I'm here after all, aren't I?

Elijah cleared his throat. "Well, it seems to me that we've discussed everything we needed to discuss for today." He stood up and I followed suit. "Again, it was lovely seeing you, Y/N."

"Likewise." I shook the hand he held out, once again ignoring the weird original rush I felt. "I'll see myself out." Couldn't get out faster.

I walked toward the exit before Elijah could say something gentlemanly about escorting me out and before Klaus could say something that'd boggle my mind even further. I assumed he'd text me the details about the meeting later.

I took a deep breath immediately once I was far enough from the compound that I was sure they wouldn't hear me. I had no idea how I was going to get used to any of this, but it was too late to go back now.

In the meantime, I decided to take my mind off the Mikaelsons for a bit by visiting someone who I've yet to see.

I walked into the old church with caution. It wasn't like I had a problem with Kieran; I just felt awkward whenever I talked to him, so I'd rather avoid him. I've had enough awkward situations in these past few weeks to last me a lifetime.

To my luck, he was absent and so I just walked straight upstairs, dodging cobwebs as I went until I made it to the attic's ajar door. A girl sat on a stool in front of an easel, painting a landscape. She was so focused she didn't even notice me push the door the rest of the way open.

I smiled, leaning on the door as I looked around the room that'd changed since I last saw it, now more decorated and screaming it'd been touched by a teenage girl. "So Marcel's still got you holed up in here, huh?"

She instantly spun around with her jaw dropped. "Y/N?!" She ran toward me, engulfing me in a tight hug that I'm sure would've broken some bones if I was human.

I chuckled, "Hi, Davina. I've missed you, too."

She pulled back, looking over me with disbelief visible on her face. "Oh, my God- when did you get back?"

"A little while ago. I'm sorry I couldn't come see you sooner, but I've been absolutely swamped. I promise, though—going into the future, I'll make time to see you." Davina smiled, pulling me back in for another hug. Her happiness spread to me and I started smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt. I think this might be the first time I've been this happy since I got back to New Orleans.

Davina was an amazing kid. I was supposed to meet up with Marcel the night of the harvest when he saved her, and so I ended up meeting her a few months before I left. She just so happened to be one of the few people who know my secret. She was incredibly gifted and reminded me so much of my younger self. I felt like I owed it to her, to myself, to be there for her. In the short time I've known her, she's become something like a little sister to me, if not a daughter.

When we broke from the hug, we both ended up sitting on the bed. I let her catch me up on what's been happening, even though I already more or less knew it from Marcel's summaries. "Okay, so if the witches aren't trying to hunt you down anymore, why are you still hiding away in this attic?"

"Well, I'm not hiding away anymore," she replied. "Marcel just figured it'd be safer for me to stay here instead of with them. He still doesn't trust them and, honestly, neither do I. They've been acting kind of weird since the witches were resurrected, but I just deal with it and go there everyday to practice."

I hummed. I understood Marcel's reasoning; keeping Davina at the church was actually pretty smart. I wouldn't trust her with a bunch of vengeful witches, either, especially after they tried to kill her once. But this attic was far too small for a little girl to spend her days in.

I looked around the cluttered room, thinking before I said screw it and decided to propose my idea to Davina. "What if you didn't have to stay here?" I asked, looking back at her.

She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean? It's not like there's anywhere else I could go, besides with the witches."

"Not necessarily true." I sat up straighter. "I mean, my townhouse has three rooms, and only one of those rooms isn't empty." I shrugged, gesturing around the room. "It's bigger than this place, so all your stuff would fit."

She sat up too. "Wait, are you being serious?"

"Hell yeah, I am. And the protections on my place are a lot better than this church's, trust me."

"You want me to move in with you?"

"Yeah, Davina, that's what I've been sayi-" I was cut off when she threw her arms around me in the tightest hug she'd given me since I entered the attic, and that was saying something.

"Oh, my gosh! Yes, of course!"

I giggled at her enthusiasm, hugging her back before pulling away to pull my phone out of my back pocket. "Okay, I'll drop you off at the apartment now and I'll text some people to come pick up your stuff and bring it to you." I glanced back up at her for confirmation, looking back at my phone when she giddily nodded. "You can just make yourself at home and get settled in. I'll be home a bit later; I just have a business meeting first."

"Yeah, sure." Davina then stood up, looking around and clapping her hands. "I'll start packing!"

I laughed for what felt like the umpteenth time since I've seen her, standing up too. "Alright, D. I'll see you later," I said, but she was already far too engrossed in packing her things, giving me a distracted goodbye. I shook my head, the corners of my lips going up even higher as I left the room.

Thank God I wouldn't have to come back to this creepy ass church anymore. I really hadn't even thought of asking Davina move in with me; it was such a spur of the moment kind of thing, but I had no doubts then and no doubts now. She'd be safer with me than here, with the witches, or even Marcel.

At the though of my friend, I went to text him about this new development, coming across a message from Elijah along the way.

Elijah M. We'll be meeting the witches at 7:00 PM at the compound.

You OK, I'll be there.

I stuffed my phone back into my pocket after responding to Elijah and texting Marcel about Davina. Seven was two hours away, so I had time to go home and freshen up before the meeting.

I wasn't nervous; I'd already been here before, already done it all, but I did feel a weird pressure to do this well. Something in me said Klaus was counting on me to fail, so it was my job to prove him wrong.

I walked right into the compound later without standing out front for ten minutes like I did this morning. I was gonna have to get used to this all eventually and I'd prefer that'd happen sooner rather than later.

I was apparently earlier than everyone else because there wasn't a Mikaelson or red-haired witch in sight. I checked my watch: 6:30, it read. Earlier than I expected, but that was fine with me. I wiped the imaginary dust off my outfit: slacks and a tight white dress shirt that I'd unbuttoned just enough to not look like a female Elijah. Resemblance to the Mikaelsons was not what I needed right now.

I was just about to pull out my phone to keep myself busy when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, my eyes meeting the mother of Klaus' kid. "Oh, hi," she greeted, a surprised look on her face. "What are you- oh, right, Elijah told me you guys were meeting with the witches tonight."

"Yeah- it, uh, appears that I'm a bit early." I chuckled, making small talk even though I really didn't want to have any unnecessary conversations with anyone that lived in this building.

"No, it's a good quality. Elijah's like that," she told me. I nodded, ignoring my thoughts which were questioning her relationship with Elijah. Something told me it was a lot more complicated than it seemed. "I wanted to thank you, by the way."

My brows furrowed. "Hm? For what?"

"For covering me that day with Elijah- and for saving me from that vampire that day, too," she expressed with an almost bashful look on her face. "I realize I was pretty rude to you, but I was really just having a bad day, and-"

"And I'm a vampire, so you were just being careful." She let a small, embarrassed smile form on her lips which I reciprocated. "It's fine, I get it. I'd do the same if I were in your shoes."

"Thank you for understanding; I really appreciate it." I told her it was no problem, resisting the urge to be nosy and ask why she didn't wanna tell Elijah what happened; I didn't want to risk her growing suspicious of me.

Before Hayley and I could fall into an uncomfortable silence, Klaus and Elijah strolled in through the gates into the courtyard. Klaus' eyes narrowed between me and Hayley, probably in a protective manner, while Elijah greeted me.

"Y/N, sorry to have kept you waiting-"

"Oh, no, it was no biggie." I gestured to Hayley. "I had good company, anyways." Hayley smiled, excusing herself after wishing us luck with the witches, but I doubted I'd need it.

I was good and I knew it. Half a millennium alone in the world taught you how to negotiate, how to get your way when you had no one else on your side. Really, I was less worried about the witches and more worried about being in Klaus' presence.

Speak of the devil.

"The witches should arrive soon," Klaus announced, glancing down at his watch then up at me, a smirk arising on his face. "And then you'll be able to play your hand."

I stopped myself from narrowing my eyes or doing anything that showed I felt the shade he was so obviously throwing my way. Clearly, without even having really spoken to me, dear old dad has decided he doesn't like me, much less trust me. I don't know why that hurt because I don't even want to be talking to him period. I guess there's just a part of me that disagrees with that.

Like this morning, Klaus didn't waste a second before walking over to the bar. "Can I interest you in a drink whilst we wait, love?" He poured himself a glass. "Some... liquid courage, if you will."

He's being a jackass on purpose.

I declined, "No thanks." I shook my head. "I don't need it." And I also don't need to be under the influence around the Originals.

Klaus chuckled in an almost sardonic manner. Like the night I met him, he had a dark air around him that he barely cared to conceal. Klaus wanted people to notice that about him; he wanted people to be scared. And I was, but for entirely different reasons.

However, I'd sooner die before letting him know that. If he wanted to play hard ball, then I'd be the best damn batter he's ever seen.

Klaus turned around, tipping his glass to me. "You're quite confident."

"Well, I can back it up," I quipped back. In response, he sarcastically smiled, taking a sip of the brown liquid in his hand. From the corner of my eye, I saw Elijah glancing in between us watchfully.

"So I've heard- and you know, it got me thinking, what exactly is it about you that makes you so special?" This-

I was given time to pause by Elijah's interjection. "Niklaus."

He held his hands out in the air. "What, Elijah? I'm just curious," he reasoned.

I cut Elijah off before he could say something more in order to respond. "No, it's alright, Elijah; I understand the skepticism." I looked back to Klaus whose eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. "The reason why people are more inclined to listen to me is because I don't operate with a desire to instill fear in others, just respect." I maintained eye contact with Klaus, hoping he was picking up what I was putting down. I knew he got the message when I saw his jaw clench.

He looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, the gates to the compound opened. All three of us looked toward the entrance to see Genevieve and two other witches walking beside her, like a little entourage.

Elijah seemed to let out a sigh of relief at the intrusion. "Genevieve," he greeted, walking toward them. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. Please, take a seat. Can we interest you in any beverages?"

While Elijah was clearly doing his best to mediate, Klaus didn't say a word, only burning a hole into the side of Genevieve's head with a hard glare while he drank his scotch.

The three of them sat down on one couch as Elijah and I sat on the one parallel to it. "No, that'll be alright," she said, crossing her legs. "I know you appreciate verity, Elijah, so I'm gonna be honest: I wouldn't have agreed to this meeting if it weren't for the woman sitting next to you."

Elijah nodded. "Yes, I'm completely aware. Y/N is here to make sure that we both get what we want and to ensure that the future of the Quarter, and everyone in it, is prosperous."

I smiled, holding my hand out. "Hello, it's lovely to meet you. I've heard many good things about you." That was a lie.

Shaking my hand, she responded, "Likewise. The elders of the coven are practically smitten with you. I've never seen witches so eager to deal with a vampire."

"Well, I hope that, after our discussion, you will also be more eager to work with the Mikaelsons."

Genevieve almost scoffed at what I said. In my peripheral, I saw Klaus roll his eyes—at me or her, I'm unsure. "Please, Y/N—I'm sure you're aware of who exactly these people are and what they've done. Even though you're a vampire, you have to admit it's outrageous." Her voice was incredulous.

I really don't understand what she was making a big fuss about. From the way the story was told, Genevieve used to have a huge crush on Klaus back in the day—ew—but I wasn't gonna actually use that against her. I didn't want her to resent me; I actually needed her to like me for this to work.

"I understand where you're coming from," I told her, managing to muster up a sympathetic expression. "But we all want the same thing: peace. That is the final destination; there are so many stops along the way to get there, so if peace is where we truly want to be, then we need to be willing to put aside our differences."

The redhead sighed. "I hear what you're saying, but how can we expect peace while working with these people? How do you expect us to trust them?" Now, Klaus scoffed, causing both Genevieve and Elijah to look over at him, Elijah with a more stern look in his eyes. I, on the other hand, ignored him altogether, focusing completely on the witch in front of me.

I said her name to get her attention back onto me, thus causing Elijah to look away from his brother, too. "I am, in no way, asking you to trust blindly. We're willing to negotiate; just state your terms." I knew this was dangerous, giving her the opportunity to ask for whatever she wanted, but the witches had been recently oppressed; giving them the chance to ask for what they wanted was like an apology of sorts, one that I felt they'd appreciate.

Genevieve looked hesitant, glancing at both of her associates, to Elijah, Klaus, and then back to me. Even without looking at him, I could feel Klaus staring at me, probably questionably. None of them were expecting that move.

See, because I was representing the Mikaelsons, Genevieve expected me to state their terms first then negotiate since they were more powerful. So, of course she was surprised.

After a beat of silence, she finally spoke up. "We want to practice freely."

"Done."

"And we want to celebrate our festivals without a hassle."

"Of course."

"And we want to reclaim witch territory for ourselves and ourselves alone, like the Lafayette cemetery."

"Reasonable," I noted, waiting for her to say something else. When she didn't, I asked, "Is there anything else we can give you? You don't have to answer right now; we'll take some time then I'll get a contract drafted-"

"Esther Mikaelson's grimoire." At her interjection, the room went silent. I didn't even wanna know what Klaus looked like right now, but Genevieve sure as hell seemed to have regained her confidence. "We want Esther Mikaelson's grimoire." That was one ballsy request.

"Are you out of your mind?" For the first time since the witches walked into the compound, Klaus spoke. I looked over at him to see a look of shock adorning his face as if the redhead just tried to kill him—and, I mean, was he that far off?

You don't ask for the Original Witch's spell book without wanting to kill or at least having the ability to kill if you so need it.

Elijah seemed to recover from a shock of his own, trying to calm his brother down. "Niklaus-"

"I am not giving you my mother's grimoire." Klaus had set his drink down, walking toward where we were all sitting. Smoke might as well have been coming out of his ears. I knew that, if I were one of the three witches sitting across from me, I'd be shitting myself. "After what you tried to do to my family, you expect me to hand over-"

"Niklaus." Elijah cut him off, but more firmly and this time Klaus actually listened, turning to look over at Elijah with hard eyes. His eyes flickered to me for a split second before looking back at Genevieve—or glaring, rather.

While Genevieve looked slightly startled, I saw the dead-set expression on her face. It'd be hard to try and convince her that Esther's grimoire wasn't what the witches wanted, but it was possible.

Gears turned in my head as I thought it over until a quick idea popped into my head. At that moment, I began, "I'm sorry, Genevieve. We can do everything else you mentioned, put it in writing, but Esther Mikaelson's grimoire is a no-go." I saw her shaking her head before I even finished.

"Then no deal-"

Elijah cut in, "Genevieve, please-"

"I can give you the next best thing." I caught Genevieve's attention easily, along with everyone else's in the room. In seconds, I had come up with a quick fix; it was a gamble, but if you aren't willing to go big, then go the fuck home. "I currently have a Bennett grimoire in my possession." I paused, gauging her reaction. Clearly, this night was full of surprises.

I suppressed the urge to glance over at my relatives; I had a feeling that I already knew what their faces looked like.

Genevieve struggled to compose herself, so I continued, "It's yours, so long as you accept." I understood what was happening here: the witches or the spirits or whatever were already decided, and they wanted the Mikaelson grimoire, but how could they be upset with what I was offering? A Bennett spell book was a damn good replacement if I ever saw one, and if anyone knew that, it was Esther's children themselves.

I knew the history—I've spent my life learning it. Ayana taught Esther everything she knew; the Bennett bloodline was one of the strongest, maybe even stronger than the Mikaelsons. And although I doubt Genevieve knew the lengthy Bennett history, she quickly got her bearings and responded, "I- we accept-"

I cut her off, smiling, "Great. Now our turn." I clasped my hands together. "You guys can keep your sanctuaries, the cemetery and whatnot, but in shared areas like the rest of the Quarter, we ask that you remain peaceful and avoid altercations with other factions. We're asking the same of the other factions, as well. Similarly, the Mikaelsons don't want conflicts, so we'd also like to avoid altercations in that area."

It seemed pretty simple because it was. It was like what Elijah said to me that night in Rousseau's: everybody wants power, and the witches were no different. They didn't agree to this meeting for peace; they agreed because they wanted power, and the Mikaelsons struck this deal for the same exact reason, even if that's not how the nobleman would've phrased it.

While I didn't provide the witches with the same prepared list of terms, what I was asking for would have the same effect. The Originals were already on top, so what more did they really need to ask for?

Genevieve, once again, looked over at the two girls sitting next to her who both nodded at the silent question she was asking. When she turned back to me, the smallest of smiles was on her lips. "You have yourself a deal."

I reciprocated her expression as we both stood up. I shook her hand. "Pleasure doing business with you. I'll work on getting that contract drafted in more detail, so please, come to us with any other requests you may have."

Genevieve nodded, letting go of my hand, and Elijah took the pleasantries from there, walking them out of the compound. This left Klaus and I alone momentarily.

I looked over at him to see that he was already staring at me. I felt a chill go down my spine from how intently he was looking at me, my mini adrenaline rush dying down. It looked almost like he was picking me apart with his gaze.

I didn't want him to think I had something to hide, so I held his stare. We were both silent until Elijah walked back. This time, he didn't seem to sense the tension in the room—that, or he just chose to ignore it.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said. I looked away from Klaus to smile in response, but the second I did, he broke his vow of silence.

"How do you have a Bennett grimoire in your possession?" Klaus' voice was cold and accusatory, just as his eyes were. Elijah just might have frozen had he not been a thousand-years-old; hell, I probably would have, too, but I'd already been crafting an explanation as soon as the idea popped into my head.

Not the real explanation, but one that made more sense.

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I met one a few hundred years ago. She died after she was in the wrong place, wrong time, but she left that book to me."

Klaus didn't look sold. "A Bennett witch left her grimoire with you, a vampire? Not with her family?"

"Well, to be fair, she wasn't in touch with her family at that time," I retorted. "And I was human at the time so, yes, she left it to me because she knew it could come of use one day."

Klaus didn't reply to me, instead choosing to continue staring me down. However, his glare was now lessened, so I knew he sort of believed me, even though he had doubts.

In the time that Klaus wasn't saying anything, Elijah cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. When I looked over, he smiled and tried to further de-escalate the situation. "Thank you, again, Y/N."

That was my cue to leave. "No problem. Are you okay with meeting up tomorrow to discuss the contract?"

He nodded. "Of course. Lunch?"

"Sounds great," I said, grabbing my bag that I'd left on the armchair next to me. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Elijah bid me farewell while Klaus remained mute, but I still felt him staring at me, even as I was walking out; only when I'd walked two minutes away from the compound did I finally let go of that feeling

I didn't speed all the way home this time like I had been doing recently after exiting the Abattoir. Instead, I decided to take this time to think since I really haven't gotten a moment alone all day.

The excuse I gave Klaus wasn't too far from the truth—I only warped it slightly. I didn't know who he knew or how well he knew my mother before he slept with her, but I knew that if I gave him the real story, there was a possibility that he'd find out who I was.

The real story was that my mother was best friends with a Bennett. Almost like history repeating itself if you thought about it; Amelia Bennett was to my family what Ayana was to the Mikaelsons. She was both a mentor to my mother and me.

In reality, we were a lot closer than I made it sound. She was a lot closer to my mother than she was with the rest of her family. We were in Salem; the witch trials were just beginning, so any witch in the area was either preparing to leave or to die. She was anticipating the latter, so before she died, she made sure to leave the assets she had to my mother.

The other Bennetts didn't dispute this, fleeing west. The rest of the story, I try not to think about. I needed to be strong, for Davina, for Marcel, for Amelia, for my mother, and for myself; otherwise, everything I've sacrificed would've been for nothing.

With that thought, I had a new resolution.

This, what I was doing here in New Orleans, could not fail. I have not lived the life I've lived just to fail. So from this moment forward, I decided to be better, to be stronger. No more quivering at the mention of my father or his baby, no more getting shaken up by conversations with the Mikaelsons.

Walking toward my apartment, I made myself a promise.

This city will not break me, no matter what.

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flowersadida · 4 months

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I don't like "The Runaway" episode. Imho this is a very strange plot, pulled out of thin air. And most importantly, it ignores Toph's really interesting conflict that could have developed her character.

The episode begins with Toph and Katara fighting over their differences. The most disgusting thing here is not even that their quarrel was taken out of nowhere, but a flashback to previous episodes. The authors based the series on the misunderstandings between Toph and Katara at the beginning of their relationship, completely ignoring their subsequent beautiful friendship. Not only did they throw out Katara's concern for Toph in the desert and their time together in Ba Sing Se, but they also pretended that this particular episode resolved all the misunderstandings, which means it was important. This is ugh.

Do you know what I would do instead of this unnecessary quarrel? I would finally resolve the misunderstanding with Aang that has been going on since the episode “The Desert”.

Remember when Aang blamed Toph for getting Appa stolen? Why not resolve this obvious and hanging misunderstanding? I mean, Aang and Toph don't talk alone at all after that episode, and that's bad.

A dedicated episode about their relationship would have filled that gap nicely and would have also strengthened the characters' bond.

Also, it's in this episode that I would show how Toph learns sandbending. Imagine the conflict that could have arisen: after losing Appa in the desert, Toph realized that she isn't such a great earthbender, because there are things that are beyond her control. She hates feeling inferior, especially when that deficiency caused her to lose a friend.

The sand is too loose, she loses its sight as soon as she lets it go. And the only one she can turn to for help is Aang.

Think about it, why are the dunes in the desert so mobile? What spreads sand and makes it so unstable? The answer is the air. To bend the sand, Toph will have to turn to the opposite element and to the one with whom there was no time to resolve the issue: Aang. And all this is connected not only with her desire to get rid of the imperfections of her bending, but also with the goal of never losing friends again and always being able to help them. And also finally make peace with Aang, her very first friend.

Imagine how Aang would teach her to feel the sand in the air. How, for example, she could see the currents of the wind... How the grains of sand would become her guides into the gaping void above her head that Toph had never seen before.

What wonderful emotions we would witness. The blind girl finally saw what was unattainable even with earthbending. I'm sure it would greatly impact Toph's personality and expand her understanding of things, and I want to experience it with her.

If there is a fanfic about this, I'd like to read it. Because the canon, alas, has lost all possibility of implementing something like this. After all, Toph learned sandbending off-screen, as if there was no emotion associated with it

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla critical #atla au #atla meta #atla toph #toph #toph beifong #atla aang #aang #taang #I don't know if a ship hashtag is needed #but I'll put it

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 5 months

Text

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: none

Word Count: 2702 words

a/n: hello!! so I was able to edit a lot today. :') I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by Sunday! Let me know what you think about this chapter, I would love to hear your thoughts on this one! Happy reading! <3

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Chapter 4

You felt off all day.

It was something you couldn’t explain. Out of nowhere that morning, you woke up with a slight headache and a sudden uneasy feeling that refused to go away until late in the afternoon. It was Friday, and you decided to close early due to your bizarre state. You planned a night-in with some warm tea, hearty soup and a marathon of a new series you started.

Currently, while finishing up cleaning the tables and organising the chairs, you paid no attention to anything and swayed mindlessly to the soft music in your headphones with the fresh scent of lavender filling the room which you were using to wipe the tables down. Your friends had already left for the evening and the skyline of Seoul provided a composed and serene atmosphere, one which you were very grateful for at this time.

You pondered the cause for your sudden headache and a spike in anxiety. Werewolves rarely got sick, the main reason may be because of exhaustion, but as far as you could recall, you weren’t over-exerting or pushing yourself too hard. While the beginning of your journey was far from effortless, you paced yourself when it came to facing challenges. Because you knew if you overworked yourself, especially since you were still recovering at the time, Jisung wouldn’t hesitate to tell Chan and Minho. You could handle Chan but you were afraid of an angry Minho.

As you continued to lose yourself in your thoughts and music, you didn't hear the bell of your cafe ring. However, you felt your emotions suddenly shift and there was a rapid electric rush through your body. Following it was a pull you knew all too well.

It couldn’t be?

You spun around and halted at the figure in front of you. He was still slightly dripping wet, his hair damp and his clothes stuck to him but his face glowed beautifully. His eyes sparkled and he panted with a slight smile beginning to form as he looked at you in awe and admiration.

Song Mingi, your soulmate, and one of the loves of your life stood in front of you in the flesh. It had been six months since you last saw him and the last time you saw him was during the worst times of your life, one that took a lot of therapy to start unpacking. Luckily, Chan knew someone who helped you immensely in deconstructing all the walls you had built.

You thought a lot about this moment, coming face to face with one of your soulmates and unravelling all the feelings and emotions that had been buried inside you for so long. There were times when you wracked your brain with so many different scenarios, playing out what you would say, how you would act and your responses when they responded. You hoped to prepare yourself for the imminent confrontation but truthfully, you were far from well-prepared.

As Mingi approached you cautiously, you were stumped. So many questions began to flood your mind. What are you supposed to do? Should you be aloof and standoffish? Should you start yelling? Should you run away, let Chan handle it and never look back?

The main question you had was, did you harbour any hate towards Mingi? Hate was a very strong word and you couldn’t begin to fathom hating one of your mates. Yes, you were hurt, angry and disappointed in them but part of you didn’t want to throw in the towel just yet. If there was any possibility for reconciliation, you were willing to try, albeit you wouldn’t go easy on them.

Something you learnt in therapy was that relationships are a work in progress. It’ll never be perfect like you were told growing up and it didn’t necessarily have to be set in stone with you not having a choice about it. You did in fact have a choice, and while you still believed fate had a role in bringing people together, a real relationship requires showing up, learning from mistakes, taking accountability and trying again if both parties truly care for each other. If not, you knew you had to face the harsh reality of walking away even if it broke you.

You wanted to make it work with your soulmates, and Mingi was the one out of your eight mates who you were closest to after Hongjoong. He was the second one you had bonded with and spent a lot of time together before meeting everyone else. You would describe him as your tall alpha with a soft heart and sweet personality. He wore his heart on his sleeve, he’s a tenderheart and big softie who would seek you out to share his snacks with because he didn't like to eat alone. He struggled with his self-esteem because being the middle child had him being forgotten a lot. You were there along with the boys to give him comfort and show him his worth. Song Mingi is the tenderest, sweetest and softest person out of the entire pack.

"Mingi..." you murmured.

"Y-Y/N..." his voice broke out in a raspy tone.

The moment he spoke snapped you out of your daze. You just wanted to hug him, embrace him and feel his warmth again. As your finger grazed his hand, he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head repeatedly.

"It's you! It's really you!" He cried.

That’s all it took for you to break your facade and you broke down in his embrace, sniffles and sobs racking your body. Mingi just pulled you closer.

"Don't cry, don't cry angel. I know I have a lot to apologise for. I-I can't even b-begin to explain it. There are no e-excuses for my actions. I'll make it up to y-you. No matter what, I won't ever hurt you like that again."

You felt the sincerity in his words. You knew he was being sincerely honest. You weren't ready to forgive him - you both still had to have a proper conversation about everything. But for now, you wanted to have this moment with him, after so long you finally had your Mingi again.

It took a while to peel Mingi off you because he kept refusing. He was taller than you and much stronger so it took a lot of convincing that you weren’t going to vanish into thin air once he let you go. He wouldn't even sit if you didn't. When you placed him in a chair and moved away to give him a blanket, some tea and maybe a change of clothes, he bolted upright and grabbed your hand, holding onto it for dear life.

Your apartment was right above the café. You had a few oversized jerseys in your closet as you were currently experimenting with your style that could fit him but it seemed to be futile on retrieving anything.

Mingi refused to part with you so instead he followed you foot to foot behind the counter as you pulled out one of the blankets from under the counter that you had for safekeeping for the colder days. He stood close by as you made him some tea.

Suddenly, your phone went off signalling a message. Mingi was confused by the sound and intrigued by the device you pulled out of your pocket. As you quickly checked to see who it was, Mingi quickly snatched it from you to see what it was.

"Hey—Mingi!"

Your shouts went unanswered as Mingi stared at the screen. He was confused by the interface. Who is Jisung? Somehow he exited out of that app and managed to click on Instagram. Your profile was the first page when he opened the app and his brows pinched in even more confusion.

"Is that you?" he asked

You tried to get your phone back so you could explain things to him but Mingi is taller than you.

He pressed on the picture with you and Chan. It was a harmless picture that was taken during Chan’s birthday party with the two of you posing with big smiles as you both leaned against the kitchen counter watching Seungmin and Hyunjin fight over something. Your caption was simple: Happy birthday to my best friend. However, Mingi’s instincts kicked in seeing the two of you standing in close proximity. He felt a low growl wanting to erupt from his throat, his protective senses coming in. But he noticed your smile. You hadn't smiled like that in a long time. It was only with them and the last time was probably when…he couldn’t remember the last time.

You were able to grab back your phone after accidentally stepping on his foot.

“Ow!” he cried.

“Finally.” you sighed.

"Who is that?" You could hear the pain that was evident in his voice. Even if you did want to be cold towards him, you didn’t have the heart to. It was difficult to remain aloof.

"He's my friend," you answered, "His name is Chan and he was the one who found me in the lake and brought me back with him."

"The lake? You came through the lake?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I don’t know how, all I remember is jumping in and then everything went dark. Then next thing I knew I was here.”

“That's why we couldn't find you. You were in this realm all the time?"

You hummed and nodded.

"Yeah, I…I didn't want to come home…” you stuttered, “I-I couldn't..." you trailed off.

Truth be told, you weren’t 100% certain what to expect from Mingi. There was so much heaviness weighing on your shoulders and in the air, that you couldn’t read what was going through Mingi’s mind or predict his next move.

Was he going to snap at you, ridicule you or berate you?

Mingi felt your uncertainty as the spark of your bond started to drop and he brought you into an immediate hug.

"I can't blame you,” he started, “We left you with a lot of broken promises, we didn't take care of you like we are supposed to. It hurts to hear that you didn’t want to come back to us but…you were also hurting a lot more than we were."

You didn’t realise the tears cascading down your face. For so long, you just wanted to be heard, understood and comforted.

"Mingi, we have to talk about all that…”

“Let’s talk now then. At least cover some bases?”

You agreed and brought the tea to a table in the far corner away from the window. You sat opposite Mingi with great effort as he was still uneasy not being able to feel your touch, you saw the way he never took his eyes off you.

You cleared your throat holding the teacup securely in your hand.

“First of all, I’m really, really, really, really sorry for not realising sooner the damage we were doing to you. I know an apology isn’t even enough. The fact that it had to take you being separated from us, for us to recognise the severity is inexcusable.” he began.

You listened intently, anxious at what he had to say.

“When I discovered how damaged our bond became, it felt like an entire collapse of my world. I don’t even know how to explain it, it was as if the one thing that kept me going was stripped away and I was operating on autopilot with no clear way ahead,” he paused, “My birthday wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a celebration, there was more grief than anything. I always told you how much you meant to me and you going missing showed me just how important you are to me Y/N. You’re my entire world and I can’t bear the thought of living without you. I hate it and I don’t want to live like that. I should have noticed my treatment towards you, I should have told the boys, I should have supported you and been there for you. I’m so sorry for failing you.”

“Mingi…”

“Hit me, yell at me, tell me as it is. Don’t hold back Y/N but please…don’t give up on me. Please give me a chance to make it up to you.”

“I…I appreciate your honesty Mingi. You seem to be sincere. I thought I would never be understood. It felt like I was drowning in a sea of my feelings. Everyday I prayed one of you would wrap your arms around me and end the nightmare I was living in. All my life…I was taught how to be a perfect mate and to consider your mate as your whole world, but when your mate forgets you, your world falls apart and you’re left stranded in a dark void with no real direction to follow. When I was running from those rogues, it came to my mind that you all were on the other side of town with Lila…”

Mingi grimaced at that realisation. You were in danger and they were so far away from you. He held your hands that were still wrapped around the teacup, rubbing soothing circles to comfort and help you gather your thoughts.

“I always thought it was my fault,” you cried, “I wanted to call out for you through the bond but I couldn’t even focus. I felt like a failure, I thought I failed at being a Luna, and so many questions plagued my mind every day and night. What does Lila have that I don’t? Why am I always a second choice? Why does Mrs Kim hate me? What’s wrong with me?”

Your voice broke as you spoke. Mingi wanted to kick himself for doing this to you. He finally saw the way you had been broken. You questioned your self worth, they made you question your worthiness. You didn’t know how you were so important, you were a precious gem to him, you were priceless.

“Nothing’s wrong you angel, if anything, something is clearly wrong with the rest of us because we’re plain idiots for making you think you’re unworthy. You deserved to be loved, adored and respected.” he answered.

“It hurts Mingi. All I ever wanted was to be someone's favourite person growing up. I wanted to be the one, you could come to for anything. I wanted to help in any way I could. I just wanted to be loved.”

“And you are loved, my love. I love you so deeply and truly, I really do. I will never let you feel that way again. As long as I live, you’d be showered unconditionally with love and respect.”

You closed your eyes and regulated your breathing to compose yourself.

“I’m willing to work things out Mingi. But you should know, I’m not sure if I trust you right now. So many thoughts come in, what if it happens again? What if -”

“It won’t. It will never happen again, angel. I know that seems like an empty promise. But it isn't! I promise you, I will make you trust me again.”

You looked at Mingi with some uncertainty. You never considered love would be like this, you always thought it would be easy. You didn’t know what was going to happen next but at least for now, this was a start.

“Tiny steps. Let’s take tiny steps then. I’ll introduce you to Chan tomorrow, he’ll help you get in contact with the others. Let them know you’re safe.”

Even after all the hurt they gave you, Mingi was in awe at the way you cared so deeply for them.

“Let’s head upstairs,” you said tiredly.

As you both made your way to the apartment, Mingi thought about everything. It pained him deeply to know the hurt they caused you. He made a silent promise to himself that he’ll be better for you.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him and you deserve unconditional and unwavering love. In no way, shape or form were you ever a second choice. You could never be second - you were and will always be first.

He’ll make things right again. He promised.

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Tag list: @eastleighsblog , @sehun096rainbow

#ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #poly!ateez #ateez series #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic

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alovesreading · 7 months

Note

any fic recs? like fics you just cant live without other people reading?

okay i might not be the best person to ask this because i'm writing two long series at this moment and i barely have time to properly read fics like i used to but i can defo give you a little list of recommendations!

when you say fics i can't live without other people reading, Nothing Revealed In A Common Crisis by my wonderful and incredibly talented best friend @imagine-that-100 is the first to come to my mind! An absolute masterpiece of a fic, alex turner x reader x matty healy love triangle that's just so well written and thought out that it makes me scream. I'm entirely obsessed with it and it truly is my roman empire LOL! (it also introduced me to the 1975 so we love it!)

make sure to check out the rest of N's work fr, all of her series are amazing and if you want one shots, Will We Talk is insanely good and I'm eager for her to post part 3 and All Is On My Side is everything to me as well!

of course, i have to add Aphasia by another one of my besties @red---moon 'cause that fic is just so damn good. I will be forever obsessed with the way Red writes and her characterisation is just so raw and real, it's genuinely inspiring. also if you want some george x reader x matty brainrot, her one shot Indecision is surely gonna drive you mad.

another one of my incredible best friends, @kennedy-brooke put out her first fic Dress which has a part 1 and part 2 and it's so fucking good, I think every George girlie needs to read ASAP!!!!

if you wanna indulge in some fun and really well fucking written gatty content, i have to send you over to read everything @vinylandcoffeecollection has out! In particular, The Cellophane House and its sequel Lost Boys had me in shambles and I loved it so much!!! Another gatty legend is @drinkurkombucha and i would defo recommend all of her work! my favourites will forever be Talking To George and Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction!

i fell in love with a Ross fic i read the other day by @butyou-callmewhenyourebored and i think it deserves more attention. i fully was almost crying by the end of it, it was so sweet and well written!!!

now if you need filthy smut to read, i will definitely be sending you over to @lottiecrabie! she is the absolute queen of smut and everything she has written has left me jaw dropped and gasping for air lollllll!!! (such a shame she's leaving but she will never be forgotten)

also Three's A Party by @abiiors!!! jesus christ almighty, when i tell you i died reading this, i mean it. pure ross x reader x george brainrot.

another one that had me gagged was Satiate by @heavenhealy! that fic had me sweating and screeching like an idiot.

and for the last filthy one that comes to my mind it is @toomuchracket one shot inspired by politician!matty that truly ended my life in the best way when i read it the other day.

let me end this all in a wholesome cute note and put you on dad!matty because Playing On My Mind by @ughgoaway has me in a chokehold and the little extras they have been posting have me swooning and wanting to die for dilf matty!

it's fair to say that this fandom is filled with talent and i have too little time to properly indulge in all the great pieces everyone puts out so this list is way too short! but i hope you enjoy this messy but great list lol!!!! i really hope that by the time i'm done with the long series i'm currently writing, i can read much more and actually give a longer and more organised list. hope this helps anyway!!

#A's asks #can you tell i suck at shutting up #went on a rant for no reason #lmfao i hate my brain #much love to everyone in this list tho!#amazing talented people all around!!

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l0vergirls · 9 months

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i think i'm in love with you.

— tim drake x gn!reader

— summary: you and tim confess your feelings for each other on a regular afternoon.

— a/n: probably ooc tim idk, no plot just vibes tbh

Sunlight spilled through your bedroom window, landing perfectly on your undone bed. Your abandoned but completed school work lay still on your desk. You let out a deep sigh– you weren’t supposed to be done this early. The sound of your alarm woke you up the second the sun rose– This is a day of productivity, you said. Only, you didn’t count just how much work you had to do, and completely overestimated it. The subjects you worked on were easy, nothing you couldn’t handle alone. Now, you had an entire day free, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Until the soft ping! of your phone had stolen your attention. You dragged your hands across the wrinkled blankets, and grabbed your phone from the night stand. Your little device had been left unattended for the hours you kept yourself busy, causing a flood of notifications, most of which were from your best friend, Tim.

bestest buddy <3: y/n??? hello???

bestest buddy <3: HEY where are you

bestest buddy <3: can i come over

bestest buddy <3: ok doesn’t matter i'm coming in a couple hours anyway

His comical series of texts made you smile. There was never a dull day if Tim had anything to do with it. Sent 12:38 pm, it read. It was currently 2:00 pm, where was he? Unless he got told off by his father, or just suddenly decided not to come (highly unlikely. he likes the food in your kitchen too much), he should be here, if not sooner.

You hurriedly made up your bed, not caring whether it was messy or not, and pulled on some hoodie you found laying on your chair. Leaving your room, you were met with the smell of your mother’s delicious cooking. You took quick steps down the stairs, and made a beeline for the kitchen. However, before you could head to the kitchen, you saw a rather amusing sight at the dining table.

It was your best friend, currently eating lunch with your mom. They seemed to be enjoying good conversation. Or your mom did, at least. Tim mostly just sat quietly, too focused on his food to speak. You always underestimated his appetite.

“Wow, eating without me? Thanks, guys,” you teased, ruffling your best friend’s already messy hair, earning a chuckle from your mom.

“When did you get here?” you turned your attention to Tim, who took his sweet time finishing his plate. He dressed comfortably, you noticed, as always. Not that it ever affected how good he always looked. Plus, under all the fairly loose clothing hid a pretty toned body thanks to his nightly activities. You’ve had the pleasure of getting a peek or two before.

Tim’s fond gaze went from the food on his plate to your eyes, a smile on his lips. “Not too long ago. Your mom just finished cooking when I came,” he tilted his head to the side very slightly, “and I was pretty hungry, so… I had to eat before I went up to you.”

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, “Oh, nice to know where your priorities lie.” You took a seat across him, your mother at the head of the table.

The rest of lunch was filled with catching up, gossip (courtesy of your mom), and talks of school, unfortunately.

Now, here the two of you were, in your room. You weren’t doing anything, aside from doom scrolling (much of your attention span had been ruined long ago) through various social media apps, and so was Tim, who you were currently admiring.

The sunlight perfectly accentuates the curve of his nose, the color of his eyes that you can (and would gladly) easily get lost in. His dark hair frames his features just right. Your eyes somehow drop down to his lips, a pretty and pale pink and currently in a small pout. You wonder if he realizes this.

To most of the world, he was Tim Drake, adopted son of the billionaire Bruce Wayne. To criminals, he was Red Robin, a fearsome vigilante. To you, he was just Tim, your best friend who likes cracking jokes that you swear aren’t funny (they are, sometimes, but you’d never tell him that), accompanies you to the supermarket to do the groceries, and stays up all night with you when you can’t sleep. And you’re pretty sure you’re in love with him.

Tim feels your eyes on him. You don’t know this, of course. But suddenly he’s aware of his breathing (too fast? too slow? oh, his heart’s moving quite quickly now), his posture (is he slouched? that’s no good. but he can’t be too stiff either–), and his hair (is it messy? is that why they’re looking? oh, god–)

“Tim?”

You’re very close to him now. Too close. Not that he minds. He never does, as long as it’s you. He feels your elbow against his, as you both sit up on your bed. He feels your shoulder lightly bumping against his.

“Yeah?”

You let out a small sigh, unbelieving that you’re doing this right now.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Oh.”

It takes him a while to register what you’ve said, but you don’t mind waiting. You understand.

You hear him let out a shaky breath, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Your eyes meet his, and you feel yourself lean into him. You give him a small smile, but your eyes give you away; they’re brighter than they’ve ever been.

“How long?”

He mirrors your smile, only a bit bigger. No, a lot bigger. He can’t really contain his feelings right now. His hands find yours, a gentle warmth radiating from his. You felt safe; you always felt safe with him.

“A while, I think. You?”

“Not sure. A long time, maybe. I just felt like telling you now.”

“Wanna go on a date?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, but you’re paying.”

“When do I not?”

#— yan writes.#tim drake x reader #tim drake #dc universe #red robin x reader #dc comics #red robin #— dc.#— the bats.

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blooxorsista · 2 months

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Blue Exorcist - 3x09: Rin, Izumo, & the Rescue Scene

Okay, I was reading the comments under the latest episode (3x09), and I wanted to type something out, but it ended up being pretty long and I decided I'd just post here instead.

Basically, this post will address Rin and Izumo's character development in this arc, and the importance of the rescue scene in the most recent episode.

I've already mentioned that this arc is probably my favorite in the whole manga (although I'm not currently caught up), but the scene where Izumo cries for help and Rin comes to her rescue is probably one of my absolute favorite scenes in the series.

The scene was just so impactful to me as a reader, which I wrote about in my analysis from when Chapter 60 came out.

So needless to say, I was SO excited to finally see this scene animated! I was also especially excited to see the Nine Tails dance from Izumo, and was slightly disappointed that they may have adapted it too faithfully to the manga, with still shots instead of a moving dance. Maybe they didn't want to assume what it looked like and chose to play it safe. (It's fine, not a deal breaker!)

It wasn't totally apparent in the anime episode, but manga readers know that Rin noticed Izumo crying from the vent. That's why we saw his wide eyes right before he exploded through the ceiling. It was seeing Izumo that caused him to move into action.

It may be easy to overlook since it moved so quickly in the anime, but that scene is extremely important for both Rin and Izumo's characters. Up until that moment, Rin had been struggling internally about fighting humans. When he's trapped inside the giant zombie, he can hear the voices of the humans that were inside (in the same way he could hear Kuro). That's why he was having a bit of a mental breakdown, asking his father what he should do.

He KNOWS that he has to cause harm to humans in order to succeed in this mission. But it's easier said than done for him, because as someone who has been constantly demonized and struggled with his sense of self, he has drawn himself a red line in his own personal code of ethics. To him, the zombies ARE human. And hearing their voices just confirms that for him. They are still conscious inside of their experimented bodies. So in order to fight them, he would have to harm these humans who were essentially innocent victims of this organization.

For Izumo, she finally accepts her true feelings about others, and asks for help. Up until this point, she's put up a strong front, thinking she had to handle everything on her own and couldn't trust anyone. Now she lets all her walls come down and accepts her vulnerabilities.

And it's exactly in this moment that both Rin and Izumo have a synchronous realization. For Rin, seeing Izumo crying, asking for help, in her most vulnerable state -- it's the catalyst for him to resolve his own inner conflict.

In an instant, he has made his decision and strengthened his resolve (either consciously or subconsciously) to harm humans because all he cares about in that moment is to save Izumo.

It's enough to snap him into action. And that's HUGE development for his character. We even see him hesitate slightly at the end of the episode when the zombies fill the room, before ultimately slashing through them with his sword, because he knows that that is what's needed to save Izumo and her mom. In fact, I'd probably argue that this hesitation is due to Rin having to consciously decide to attack them, meaning that when he moved to save Izumo, he reacted subconsciously.

I just felt the need to point this out after seeing so many comments complaining about Rin and Izumo's actions and character development this season. In truth, their actions and motivations align.

Another common complaint I saw was about how Izumo should have taken Rin's offer for help the first time (on the bridge). I'd like to point out that running away wouldn't solve Izumo's problems. Even if she were to be rescued and escape with Rin and the others, Gedouin still has her mother and has already threatened to use her little sister if Izumo refused. In her mind, staying was the only solution, because her goal was to protect her family at all costs.

Despite what we know of the Nine Tails, Izumo believes that she can take control and use the possession to her advantage and destroy her enemies. That way she wouldn't have to worry about them coming after her or her loved ones again.

And for Rin, he's coming to learn that "good" and "bad" are not so easily distinguished. His view of the world has been turned upside down after realizing that not all of the "bad guys" are demons.

And as a side note, I also want to mention the animation style. I know it's been a bit of a controversial topic this season, since the style is so different from seasons 1 and 2, and that a lot of people have complained about some of the episodes. However, I had a feeling that the animation team was just prioritizing the more important scenes over the others (after all, there is a limited amount of time and budget, so it would make sense to spend more time on the biggest scenes, if you have to choose).

And I was glad that this seems to be holding true up until now. I was happy with the quality of the scenes that featured Izumo this episode (much like how I thought her backstory episode was high quality), and especially the rescue scene. And I loved that we finally got to see posessed!Izumo colored and animated!

I'm also curious as to how the next episode will be adapted. I was reading through an old rant of mine from when the corresponding manga chapter came out, so I'll be curious to see if I feel the same way after watching the next scenes play out.

All in all, I'm still enjoying this season and getting to experience the manga come to life with animation and voice acting!

#blue exorcist #blue exorcist 3x09 #blue exorcist season 3 #ao no exorcist #rizumo #original post #ane #rin okumura #izumo kamiki #analysis #read more #also i'm not saying this season is perfect #but i'm still having fun #tags #my analysis #anime #season 3 #3x09

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mlchaelwheeler · 2 years

Text

Byler fanfic recs (bc we need it)

A Dream Always the Same - @sevensided

Complete || 99k

If you're on byler tumblr, and you haven't read this fic, this is a requirement. So well written, and gives us a perfect characterization of Mike (looking at you, vol 2).

Can't Hold Out Forever - scorchstorm

Complete || 18k

The fics that go through the years of Mike and Will knowing each other since kindergarten just hit different, ok? This one's no exception.

Crazy Together - imyoursandthatsitwhatever

Incomplete || 18k

A S2-era fic about Mike and Will sharing emotions, having sleepovers, and overcoming trauma. What's not to love?

Darling, You Got to Let Me Know (Should I Stay Or Should I Go?) - andiwriteordie

Complete || 11k

Mike gets vecna'd. Need I say more?

Filling the Gaps - nfna118

Complete || 119k

A series of works about Mike and Will starting in kindergarten and going through the seasons. From multiple povs. This is one of my favorite works ever; the characterizations are spot on!

Geography Notes and Doodles - midnighteverlark

Complete || 4k

Mike accidentally takes home Will's sketchbook instead of his geography notes. This one is so adorable omg.

I Never Find Out 'Til I'm Head Over Heels - orphan_account

Complete || 12k

Mike asks Will to the school dance every year, but Will thinks he's just being nice. Mike is trying so hard but he's not quite there yet.

I Want to Know What Love Is (I Want You to Show Me) - reitvelds

Complete || 2k

The snowball, where Mike and Will finally get their slow dance. S2 my beloved <3

In The Haze of Hesitation - sylvianightshade

Incomplete || 39k

Byler and elmax, ft. an oblivious Dustin and Lucas. Set post-S3 and currently in progress.

It's Dangerous to Go Alone! - @byeler

Complete || 12k

Will has trouble sleeping, so of course Mike sleeps over. Late night talks and movie watching, it's adorable.

Jealousy (Turning Saints Into the Sea) - wasabi8000

Complete || 11k

Set post vol 1, Mike is jealous when a cute guy hits on Will at a gas station. Mike pretends he isn't jealous, but his excuses are getting out of hand. This is hands down the funniest fic I've ever read, it will have you smiling the whole time.

Laughing Matters - empressoftears

Complete || 5k

Will gets his wisdom teeth out, and the medicine causes him to say some things to Mike he normally wouldn't. This one is hilarious, I'm never not thinking about "how am I supposed to kiss Mike if I don't have any lips?!"

Neither Of Us Ready to Let Go - dirtyvalentines

Complete || 4k

A different take on the S3 fight in the rain, filled with angst, fluff, and lotr references.

Over a Bridge Of Time - @sevensided

Complete || 23k

The amazing sequel to "A dream always the same." So cute (that ending though!), and I am constantly thinking about the picture of Mike and Will hanging on the Byers' wall of family pictures. So adorable <3

The Red Envelope - midnighteverlark

Complete || 45k

Another classic for byler tumblr--if you haven't read this, where have you been? Will writes down his feelings for Mike in a letter, which Mike accidentally takes home with him. Cue angst.

Thirteen - arlathahn

Complete || 21k

Mike and Will through the seasons, if El left to be with Kali after S2. Also, Will has powers.

Together Forever - orphan_account

Incomplete || 17k

From kindergarten onwards; Mike and Will's development in their feelings for each other. They're kids and maybe don't understand everything quite yet.

Undertow - @byeler

Complete || 11k

Yet another classic fic for byler tumblr. In which Will hasn't had his first kiss yet and Mike offers to help him practice. Featuring Max as the best guide to sorting out feelings ever <3

#after whatever vol 2 was. here's some happiness <3 thank me later #byler #fanfic rec #mike wheeler #will byers #sarah.txt #save #fanfic

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lovelybrooke · 9 months

Note

Bro, you don't understand the amount of brainrot you gave me from your HSR × GI crossover fic.

Cause like any generic person scrolling through the Yandere HSR tag, I came across your concept and was like, "Wow, that's cool!" It's not really common to see crossover fics between two of my favorite games, so I jumped at the chance and devoured your concept like my life depended on it. (I've already re-read it a few times since then 💀)

And your fic has taught me one thing about myself that I hadn't known prior to reading your concept...

I think I might have an addiction to angst 🤧

If ya wanna read my angsty thoughts, here they are:

When I first read your fic (or concept), I defaulted to a human reader, but then I was like, what about an immortal reader? (I.E. Adepti)

Cause here me out, the archon war was a devastating event, and during that time, it was kill or be killed. And if the reader (or darling) was present during that time, then they have most definitely experienced great loss watching as the friends they've known for so long dissappear from view and even after the war they still experience losses from the mortals they've grown close with when traversing across the nations.

And, of course, they end up in the HSR-verse, which is exceptionally cruel cause not only have they lost all their current friends but also getting forcefully ripped apart from their home.

Then, of course, they were found by Himeko and Welt, then brought the reader aboard the Astral express, and the rest is history within your concept.

Isn't it just cruel that the people you thought were your friends suddenly turned their back to your desires of going back to your homeland? 🥺

Anyway, Poll time:

I don't believe this is really important to add on, but it's an FYI... kinda... but I ended up choosing cryo (really hard choice between cryo and anemo, but Ganyu and Shenhe pulled me through on this one), and for the weapon, I didn't really know what to pick so I ended up picking polearm cause... Shenhe and Dan Heng...

What do you take away/gain from this?:

Absolutely nothing 💯💯💯💯💯 (I think)

What did I learn?:

Apparently, my first language wasn't Spanish, but actually, pain and suffering. 💀

What did I gain from this?:

My thoughts have been let free, and finally, my brain can (hopefully) turn off for a moment. (This can't happen. I get brainrots at 2am.)

Also, another fanfic writer who actually writes for my special interest (I.E. Spiderverse, Demon Slayer, TLOU)

That's all, I'm out!

- uhhhhhh, idk what I should sign with...

Number one, I’m super happy that you enjoyed the concept. Honestly when I released it I didn’t think people would enjoy it because how different both the games are, so I’m happy to see that people like it.

Number two, I do agree that reader being immortal would be really interesting. For the series, reader is going to stay human, but I do like the idea of reader being an Adeptis. Imagine the reader filled with guilt over the loss of their friends, attempting to protect their new ones even if it means their life. They’d feel as though it’s the only thing they can do to pay them back for helping them adapt to this strange world. Is definitely an interesting ideas.

(Also, if I’m being honest, I voted myself for Dendro and Claymore because they’re my favorites. But don’t let that sway your votes. I’m really interested in what the results will be).

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin x reader

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luv4fandoms · 1 year

Note

Hey boo! I know you’re on like a dwayne kick recently(me too tbh) are you cool with writing angst?? bc i would LOVE some dwayne angst maybe reader gets hurt and he’s just freaking tf out. I LOVED your rut series and know you’d do my justice 💋💋

-💜💚

First off, thank you so much 😭 I hope I did your request justice, and I'm so glad you enjoyed the rut series!

Second...Ok so it's really funny that you asked this Anon cause Dwayne (once again) infiltrated my dreams last night, so part of this is actually from a dream I had, and it just fit so perfectly that I just added onto the dream lol. That is also why the reader has a brother cause it is kinda like my "when you're unaware" story, like idk why but I put one of my brothers in the group in my dreams lol. Anywho! I hope you like it!

Also the girl is hinted at being Demisexual since this is based on a dream I had and I'm Demisexual.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

Don't blame me (Dwayne x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 3,532

Pairing: Dwayne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst!

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

It wasn't unusual for Dwayne to be quiet, in the months that you had known him he wasn't very talkative unless you started the conversation, and even then, he was more of a listener. Tonight had been much the same, you were all sitting in the cave just hanging out, Paul was sitting by the rock box with Laddie, Marko was sitting on the floor sewing on some patches to his jacket. Star was sitting next to your brother who was currently having a conversation with David, and you were sitting on the couch next to Dwayne. The evening had been full of laughter before that, as your brother and you recalled stupid things you had done as kids, even Dwayne laughing when you spoke of how you epicly failed at skateboarding and swore you wouldn't try it again for your bones sake.

But now he had gone quiet, the sound of the music filling your little corner of silence, and from the corner of your eye you could see him staring at you while you read. He always did this, you noted, stared at you when he thought you weren't looking. Or maybe he knew you knew, maybe he didn't care that you knew. Either way you watched him turn away, looking at the ground in front of his boots.

You could tell he was thinking, he had that very far off look in his eyes that told you he was in his head, something he did when he was stressed. Before suddenly he stood, stating that he was gonna go for a ride, and made his way out before anyone could question it, though maybe it was only you questioning it as everyone just nodded and went back to what they were doing. But you watched him leave, watched him make his way out into the night, listened as his bike came to life before speeding off into the distance. Something wasn't right, in months you had known them Dwayne never just went for a ride by himself, though judging by the others it was something he had done before, but you had always seen him take Laddie along, or he would offer you a joyride.

He had seemed so lost in thought, in an almost somber way and it made your heart ache at the thought that he was upset for some reason. Your brain immediately thinking back on everything you had said that night, searching for anything that may have upset him, were you the cause of his mood? Or was it something else? You sat in your little corner of silence, mind racing and turning everything over and over for what, after looking at your watch, was about two hours…

Two hours and he still hadn't come back, you knew he wasn't hunting because they had hunted earlier, the knot in your stomach twisted as your brain pictured all the things that could be wrong, even flashing on if there were, somehow, hunters in town. Making up your mind you quickly stood and grabbed your brother's keys, jogging up the steps, throwing back a quick. "out" when your brother asked you where you were going. He had taught you how to use his bike…somewhat.

You were still very new and very unsure about it, preferring to just ride with one of them, but you couldn't wait around anymore, something was wrong, and it worried you. So with a quick kick the bike came alive, and you slowly took off, a little wobbly, but moving.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

Dwayne had to get out of the cave, he knew he should just talk to you but he couldn't, what was he supposed to say? That he realized he was in love with you? That he thought it was just an interest in the start because your personalities melded well together? That he thought the reason he accepted you so quickly was because you were one of his pack mate's sister, but really, he's come to realize, was because he's been in love with you from the start?

He still remembers when your brother introduced you to them all at the boardwalk, you were so nervous but you played it off like you were calm, but he could hear your heart racing. He watched you stay by your brother's side that night, finding solace in him, a familiar presence, and Dwayne found himself wanting you to find that same solace in his presence. He watched you instantly become friends with Laddie, taking the small boy on any ride he wanted to, even if you were dizzy and nauseous afterwards, just to see Laddie smile. He listened as you talked about your nieces and nephews that were around Laddie's age, and how you were often the babysitter, but all Dwayne could see was how amazing of a mother you would be for Laddie.

As the days turned into weeks you became more comfortable around them all, dancing around the cave with Paul, sewing with Marko, even discussing books with David. Star became like your sister, and Laddie soon took on the role of your son, even if neither one of you really noticed. Weeks turned into months and you were more often than not, by his side, preferring his quiet nature than the rowdiness of the others. He had lost track of how many nights the two of you would just sit on that beat up couch and talk, well, you would talk, he preferred to listen.

You were so animated when you told him stories of friends and family, memories of childhood or just random things you had learned throughout your life. He honestly could listen to you forever, your voice soothing to him, a sound that could even calm the beast when he hadn't fed. Not that he would stay around you long if he hadn't, he couldn't risk it, he had control over himself, but sometimes, sometimes you smelled a little too good in a different way. That was another thing, your smell, he had first smelled it when you met, that sweet floral scent that reminded him of a mortal life past, but also of amazing nights in this life.

It was a scent he couldn't name other than a word that came to his mind a few weeks into your friendship…Home. He would let it fill his senses when you rode on the back of his bike, allowing himself to unabashedly bask in it while you were unaware, he would never admit that this was the selfish reason he had you ride on the back of his bike when Laddie wasn't with the group, that and the feeling of your arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, your happy screams and laughter filling his ears as he sped down the beach, he would smile and laugh along, sharing your joy as you drew yourself closer to him, always closer, but never close enough…

Not in the way he wanted to be, he was sure of that. You had told him before, how you never found anyone really attractive unless you formed an emotional bond with them, he was sure you only saw him as a friend and nothing more, whereas he wanted to be so much more. He wanted to hold you when you were upset, laugh with you when you were happy, hug you just because he wanted to, kiss you just because he could. He wanted to give you everything he was…

But that came with a part of him he didn't want you anywhere near. You had never seen them change, never watched them hunt, and he didn't know if he would ever want you to, because deep down he was terrified that the true realization of what they, what he was, would cause you to run away from him, and he couldn't handle that.

"Hey, did Y/N find you?" Your brother asked, looking over at him. Found him? He must have worn a confused expression because the man became visibly concerned.

"She left a little while after you, we figured she was going to find you" he added, as the others now turned to look at Dwayne.

"She took off on B/N's bike" Paul stated, and Dwayne could feel the dread start to creep in, they had taught you how to drive sure, but you were still so new, so wobbly and unstable when you drove. Without a second thought Dwayne found himself running back to his bike, quickly starting it and taking off to find you.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

You had searched the boardwalk first, then the pier, every quiet place you figured Dwayne would hang out, and still, nothing. You were becoming more worried as you followed the paths that Dwayne would take and still hadn't found him, there was only one more place to look. It was a ways out, a quiet little space that Dwayne said he went to just get away, you had felt so honored to be taken there, to be let into his world a little more. You would be lying if you had said that you hadn't been drawn to the quiet man as soon as you two met.

Sure you were nervous as heck to meet your brother's friends, but there was just something about him that eased your worry. You had always been called picky by your friends when it came to guys, but you couldn't help it, your heart and brain just worked differently. You didn't see people in that way unless you felt an emotional bond with them, maybe it was a way to stop yourself from getting hurt again, or maybe you were just waiting for the right one. But something about Dwayne pulled you in, it wrapped around you, and soon enough you were realizing you had a crush on him.

As the weeks turned into months you realized that the crush had developed into love. How could it not though? Dwayne was always so careful with you, so tender and caring. He would pull you closer if he felt like you were cold at the boardwalk, or take Laddie on rides if he felt like you needed a break from the constant movement.

That was another thing, seeing him with Laddie made your heart absolutely melt. There was always something about seeing guys who were good with kids that made you smile, but the way that Dwayne was with Laddie made you so soft. Then there was how much of a good listener he was, you were so used to guys zoning out, completely ignoring you, or interrupting you to change the subject that having someone give you their undivided attention while you spoke was so foreign, and yet, so refreshing. But he would, he would seemingly hang onto every word, even if it was a story you yourself thought was silly halfway through it, Dwayne wouldn't let you stop, always asking what happened next.

You had never felt so seen, so protected and yet so free with someone. You still remember the first time he got you on the back of his bike, you were so scared and honestly afraid you would hurt him by how tight you were squeezing, but he only laughed, a sound that had your heart jumping and you swore you wanted to hear it more often. You had peaked over his shoulder, the beach flyinv past you, but you also saw the smile he wore, eyes flashing back to yours for only a moment before returning to the sand in front of him, but he looked so calm, so free. So despite your fear you allowed yourself to relax, and soon realized why he felt that way.

Those rides happened more often after that, anytime Laddie wasn't riding with him, you were, excited screams when he would come off the boardwalk quickly, or go around a sharp turn. Happy laughter as he sped down the beach, the wind in your hair. It really wasn't surprising that you had fallen for him. Which was also why you were so worried about him, you needed to know why he was upset, and if there was anything you could do…

Or if you were for some reason the cause of it. Riding along the beach you finally made your way up the small hill to the lookout point, but again, no Dwayne. You felt like you could cry at this point, you didn't know where else to look to find him, knowing that he probably had other secret places. You thought that maybe he would have gone back to the cave, maybe you were looking around for nothing, at least you could hope for that scenario. Deciding to head back to the cave to see, you went to turn the bike but instead accidentally gave it too much gas, shooting forward and over the small hump of the hill.

It wasn't a tall hill, but it was enough of a cliff that when the front tire made contact with air, it quickly angled down, and your body followed with it. Landing with a hard thud, you managed to land on your side and not your neck but what you hadn't accounted for were the rocks at the bottom. So as you slid down the hill, the bike now pushing you along as it rolled with you on its side as well, your head slammed into a large rock, causing your vision to quickly fade to black, and the sounds of the running bike disappearing into the nothingness.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

Dwayne had checked everywhere and still he couldn't find you, if he had a heart he swore it would be beating out of his chest. You weren't at the boardwalk or the pier, he hadn't seen you so far on the beach, where could you have gone? And why did you go looking for him? He had thought he hid his emotions well, but had you noticed? You must have.

Did you watch him as closely as he watched you? Had you really cared that much about him to take off into the night, unstable and unsure, just to find him? You were crazy if you did, but then again, maybe so was he. If he had just come out and said something the two of you wouldn't be on the wild chase to find one another.

He just hoped nothing had happened, he didn't know what he would do if you were hurt. Suddenly remembering the spot he had taken you to about a month ago he realized he hadn't checked there, revving his engine he took off across the sand faster. He wasn't far from the spot, it wouldn't take him long to ride up the hill and check. But the sound of another bike made him slow, was that you?

Had he finally found you? Could the two of you finally stop the game of cat and mouse? No…No the engine was running but it wasn't moving, it wasn't coming back down the path towards him, it was just idling…and it wasn't where you should have been if you were at the top. As soon as he rounded the corner he felt his heart stop all over again.

'No no no'

He quickly stopped his bike, not even bothering to put the kickstand down as it fell on the sand while he ran towards you, quickly pushing the bike off of you and turning it off. Luckily it hadn't been sitting on your skin to where it would have burned you, but you still hadn't moved. Gently lifting your head the scent of blood filled his nose and he felt his breath catch, the red liquid was covering one side of your face, sand sticking to the drying liquid. It seemed like it had stopped bleeding but there was still a lot.

"Y/N" he spoke quietly, unshed tears brimming his eyes as he looked you over. He could still hear your heartbeat, and it wasn't faint which gave him some relief, you also didn't seem to have any broken bones. He pulled you to him, his hand coming up to try and wipe away some of the blood.

"Please, open your eyes" he spoke again, voice unable to become any louder, he knew a lot could happen to a human when they hit their head too hard, what if you never woke up again, what if he never got to hear your voice again? Never got to see you smile, or hear your laugh, never got to see you play with Laddie again…Never got to tell you he loved you.

"Please" he called again, closing his eyes as he held you closer, this couldn't be how it all ended, he would change you before he let that happen, he didn't care if you hated him after, you would be safe, you would be ok.

"Dwayne" you voice softly called, a warm hand pressing to his cheek, a cheek he didn't realize was wet with tears that had fallen unknowingly.

"Y/N" he breathed, meeting your gaze as you looked up at him, cradled safely in his arms.

"You're ok. I was worried" you said with a small smile, you really were worried about him, and that worry made you search…And it made you get hurt.

"You're hurt" he stated, trying to compose himself.

"I'm ok, just a little bump" you reassure him, but he just shook his head.

"You shouldn't have went looking for me, if you hadn't then…Then this.." but he couldn't finish his sentence, because you were pulling him towards you, lips gently pressing against his before he deepened the kiss, pouring everything out into that moment. He swore that if, for some reason he did die in that moment, he could die happy now that he finally got to kiss you. When you parted though you smiled at him, resting your forehead against his chest as he held you.

"You can't blame me, love makes you crazy" you spoke against his skin and he felt the smile before he even registered it. You loved him…You loved him too.

"I don't blame you, why do you think I raced back out when they told me you went looking for me" he explained, your eyes meeting as you looked up at him, lost in each other's gaze for a moment.

"Why did you leave?" You asked, and he took a moment to answer, wiping more of the blood off of your skin, honestly shocked he wasn't tempted to drink it, maybe that's what fear does to them.

"Because I didn't know how to deal with the fact that I love you when I thought you only saw me as a friend"

"Bet you feel silly now" you spoke softly, smiling up at him.

"I do" he stated, looking at your wound, which luckily now that he could see it better, wasn't that deep.

"But you still shouldn't have come after me" he told you.

"No, that's not how this works. I was worried, I would chase after you again if I had to" you told him, watching as he shook his head before leaning down and catching your lips in a kiss again.

"Crazy girl" he spoke against them.

"Your crazy girl?" You asked, you both may have confessed but you still wanted to be sure.

"My crazy girl" he smiled, kissing you once more before lifting you up and carrying you back to his bike.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

"So what you're saying is…you wrecked my bike"

"I didn't mean to! Look I can pay for anything I broke ok just tell me-"

"I'm just messing with you, I'm glad you're ok, don't do that shit again got it! So where is my bike exactly?" Your brother asked Dwayne, and you watched as Dwayne explained where it was before offering to take him.

"No you stay here with her so she doesn't do anything stupid again" he told him before leaving.

"I'll have to find another secret spot for you" you stated, watching your brother leave.

"It's ok. I like that spot more now"

"But it's not secret anymore"

"Maybe not…But it is where we said I love you for the first time" he smiled, leaning down to kiss you again.

"You're so cheesy" you giggled

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up.

#the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne tlb #dwayne #tlb dwayne #dwayne the lost boys #dwayne x female reader #tlb dwayne x reader #dwayne x reader #vampire x reader #vampire #the lost boys angst #tlb angst #asks and answers

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writingmochi · 5 months

Text

ｌｏａｄｉｎｇｉｎｔｅｒｆａｃｅ．．．

you have reached year 2

lissie: greetings, visitor! this is your flight director speaking~ welcome to the two-year anniversary of this blog (freaking awesome if you ask me). thank you so much for reading, indulging, and/or interacting with this blog, me, or my works. the sentence before cannot describe the gratitude i'm expressing towards all of you. this is a yearly recap for me and maybe for new visitors who come to know what has happened on this blog for the year.

before we get to it, i'm doing a survey to get to know my audience better (and more research). if you have spare time, do fill in the survey so that i get to know more about the visitors, the works, and the audience on tumblr in general! (average time is around 3 minutes~)

survey link! (survey closed)

leggo!

all research done (read: works written and released)

troubled pixies | txt's taehyun (2 parts; 52k [novel])

smirch episode 2: jay | enhypen's jay (27.4k [novella])

isobel | txt's soobin (43.3k [novel])

pizzeria run | enhypen's sunoo (17.9k [novella])

total: 4 works (1 two-shots, 3 oneshots) and 140.6k words written

all the navigators connected (read: mutuals i got within the year. check last year's recap if you didn't find yours!)

@it-rains-blue (via @itz-yerin)

yerin! the other biggest bamtori i know here! gosh i hope you're doing well irl and online... hope for the best for your confession cafe >> check it out folks @the-love-cafe

@heart2beom

hey jazmine! i notice you haven't posted in a while now. so i'm hoping your doing okay, okay?

@tyunlatte / @wave2tyun

alex! if you are lurking, i hope you're doing so good irl! live your life for the best (edit: alex's back!)

@lovejoshua

1/6 angels: ilem istg! hi! you've been like one of the constant presence when i check the discord server. hope you treat yourself well!

@junniieesbby

2/6 angels: whenever i see a heart, it always reminds me of you, angie. i think you're busy currently, so the best i can say is that hope you have a good rest cause you need it and always hydrate ;)

@hanniejie

3/6 angels: hey lex! i just saw the band au teaser on your blog and i wanna punch myself for not noticing that sooner! /j hope you have a great time writing that one :D

@txt-yaomi

4/6 angels: sof!! i gotta have to consult you more for street spirit cause just the way you work with the album for angel is just *chef's kiss*

@talesofyuan

yuan~~ ngl i can't wait to read your kei lovesick series (tho i'm hoping to staying loyal to yixiang) can't wait to see more of your &team fics. check the blog out for &team content, folks!

@choistick

5/6 angels: saph !! thanks for the tag and hope your hiatus is treating you well~

@robin-obsessed

6/6 angels: lee~ i've just seen that you also like riize like akfjbaieufiw okayyyy i hope you have a good day/night whenever and wherever you are!

@dido-of-the-endless

hi nida! tbh you have so many side blogs i'm confused in which one you post your writing (so i'm tagging your main account). feel free to consult me if you have any wips you wanna let out lmao >.< n thanks for joining the txt hub server, i won't know you if not from there...

@pyeonghongrie (via @pyeonghongrie-main)

rie! thank you so much for letting me in the cult (mueheheheh) and hope we can interact more here or on the server

@aduh0308

welcome to the roster, ada! thanks for letting me join the soobin collab and nice to see you!

director's journal entries (read: all the rants i have thought out the past year. some are genuine, some are sarcastic):

wow… i freaking broke tumblr huh

i shouldn't have been too ambitous fook me

bruh my body's crumbling…

i swear i hate college for not allowing me to write

i broke tumblr twice w/ a txt fic alsnskdams

tumblr can’t handle things :(

is my mind running too fast or is it just harder for people to understand me? annoying much…

i’m literally a step away from going out of the kpop fandom. this kind of fan behavior is sickening

^ and the fact is: i’ll probably survive

kinda wish someone could appreciate my writing just like i do for other people here

is there something wrong with how i write asks? i should have put more tone indicators…

the desire for me to revert back to web 1.0 is crazy. like, me owning a blog? ughh yes pls!

i’m getting freaking frustrated!!!

AGGHHHGHHHHHHHH

… will i ever … :")

*queue yoda's voice* you pushing back more wips i see

how the fuck have i made fewer works yet the wc is 20k away from last year's result? (166k for 12 compared to 140k for 5 works)

^ it's quality over quantity now darling

^^ and the fact that the year 3 count will get higher because of the fics you've delayed

notable moments from the past year

established @a-dream-bookmark, a rec blog + kpop writer & reader network

reaching 200!

started writing for ateez!

joining @kflixnet, @k-labels, and @cultofdionysusnet networks

what’s next?

lissie: if you haven't seen it, i'm starting a new big-scale series called terra incognita for enhypen's jake, do check it out if you like cyberpunk, or dystopian fics! also, i an doing the wips that i promised will be released this year (will prioritize evaluation and subterranean homesick alien first)

lissie: once again, thank you so much for following me on this journey! cheers~

#the voyage: year 2 #milestone of the moon #announcement from the moon

36 notes · View notes

talltalesandbedtimestories · 24 days

Text

Wash. RINSE. Repeat. - Dean x Reader/OFC

"Rinse" is Part 3 of the Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Series

Rating Mature

Dean x Reader/OFC

Tags: Canon-compliant (or trying to be), Season 3, Lots of Angst, Demon Assault/Attempted Sexual Assault (trigger), Show Level Gore/Violence, Language, Pining, Dean is infuriating at times, Sam is the sweetest, Main character death (offscreen; but, it's Supernatural, so you know, it's probably not sticking)

Word Count: 15,000

Summary: The boys stink. Something needs to be done about it.

The above summary was something I came up with when I thought this was going to be a fun little one shot. (hah! stupid writer and her stupid assumptions. how dare she think she can make plans and have Sam and Dean adhere to them.) It still applies to the beginning (and this sniff, sniff theme may come up again) but I'm going to add that this story is a first person reader insert that weaves in and out of show canon.

"Rinse" won't make a lick of sense if you haven't read the other parts. If you want to read the previous installments, you can find them on AO3 -- WASH -- PRE-RINSE

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Friends Becoming Strangers" square.

A huge thanks to @jacklesversebingo for allowing me to use one of my bingo squares in a part of a story I was currently working on. These bingo prompts have genuinely tested my creativity and provided some meaty plot twists. Thank you, thank you!

Rinse

~ Six Months Later ~

I bolt upright in bed, mid-gasp.

My heart pounds. Flashes of what caused my pulse to race appear in the curtain call of each blink.

Bobby. In the dark with a flashlight. In his house? Sneaking around, like he’s investigating an unfamiliar place. Then, he was attacked by something. Thrown to the floor in his kitchen. A blur of arms clawing. A screeching sound that wasn’t human.

What the hell? I shake the shiver out of my spine and glance over at the alarm clock. Fifteen minutes before it goes off. There’s no way I’ll get back to sleep. I resign myself to get out of bed and start the day.

It’s gonna be a busy one at Hoyt and Hagan. There are two client appointments on the calendar. I’ve got some note taking during and transcribing to do after each of them.

I debate with myself in the shower as to when I should check on Bobby. It’s still too early and he’ll only scoff in my ear at the unnecessary concern.

I decide I’ll call him during my lunch break, all nonchalant like. Hey Bobby, it’s your favorite psychic nut job, poking out of hunter hibernation for some updates.

Just to be sure he’s okay.

I grab a slice and a soda at Tony’s Pizza Parlor for lunch. The four block walk gives me a chance to stretch my legs and see if they’ll be short staffed over the next week. I need to bulk up my car maintenance fund. According to Nate at Carl’s Auto Shop, I will probably need to replace the brake pads in a few months. Before the squeaks turn into screeches at every stop.

Gary’s working the counter. I try not to fuss with my hair too much in his presence. His dimples drill into his cheeks with a bright smile. My stomach spins like it’s in a washing machine. I ask him how his Aunt Cheryl is doing. The swoony, sensitive six footer moved back to Matamoras when his only living relative, Cheryl Somers, fell ill and couldn’t take care of herself anymore.

It’s been five months since Gary arrived and became ubiquitous around this tiny town where you only have to breathe heavily to become the subject of juicy gossip. He works a variety of service jobs. I’m blessed that one of them is at Tony’s. My random shifts have intersected with his on occasion. I am also cursed because I still haven’t gotten the nerve to get past simple pleasantries. Mainly I worry I’ll slip about my personal details or he’ll ask me a question about my family. And, I’ll have to lie. Because he’d never believe the truth. The people that would understand are just as damaged as I am.

Playing at normal is tough.

I scoot into a booth that has a nice vantage of the counter so I can spy on Gary. I pry the greasy pepperoni one by one from the stringy mozzarella. The deconstruction exercise prolongs my excuse to hang around with my solitary slice. I mindfully chew. Taste buds light up with oregano, tomato sauce, processed toppings, and velvety cheese.

The one brain cell not focused on Gary reminds me about Bobby. I dab at my face with a one-ply scratchy napkin, then tap in the start of a phone number I know by heart on my cell. Bobby’s name appears from my contacts after the fifth digit.

I’m still miffed about Garth accidently dropping my old phone in the depths of the Delaware when he visited six months back. He felt so bad he drove me to the nearest cell phone store and bought me a new one right on the spot. He got me a newer and nicer model. It didn’t make up for all the contacts and messages I lost, though. It took me weeks to connect with almost everyone I could remember.

I wait for Bobby to pick up. It rings. And rings. And rings. The voicemail answers. “You’ve reached Bobby. You know what to do.”

I know what to do, but I hang up instead. I’m that person that hits redial and gives it another try. Bobby is prone to leaving his cell phone atop a stack of books or on the kitchen counter as he hops from room to room. So, there’s a chance he might…

“You’ve reached Bobby. You know what to do.”

I sigh and collect my words. “Hey, Bobby. It’s been a bit. Wanted to see how you’re doing. Nothing much new on this end. Give me a call, though, soon. Yeah? Been told my car’s gonna need new brake pads. Wanna make sure I’m not getting hosed on the cost to replace them. Okay? Thanks. Bye.”

“Who’s Bobby?” The voice drifts over my shoulder from behind me.

Oh God. Gary’s asking that question. I’m gonna have to turn and actually make eye contact and answer. I swallow and rotate in the booth a bit. He’s wiping down the table, tray filled with trash in his grasp. Wavy jet black bangs obscure his eyes for a brief second. It’s not enough time before his onyx irises gaze with interest in my direction.

“Huh?” I pretend I didn’t hear him.

“Who’s Bobby? He’s not the only guy that knows a thing or two about cars.” His smile is bright. “I could probably help you out. Take a look.”

“Oh.” I want to bang my head into the table to shake out any words that are longer than one syllable. “That’s… that’s…”

“He family? Bobby?” Gary stands beside my booth now.

“Yeah.”

Gary nods. “Well, offer’s available if you need it.” Someone, maybe Maribel, shouts his name across the restaurant. “Good luck.” He darts away.

“Thanks.” I groan at my suave communication skills.

~~~~

(Italicized Dialogue from S3, Episode 10, “Dream a Little Dream of Me” - Teleplay by Cathryn Humphris; Story by Sera Gamble & Cathryn Humphris)

Dean sat at Bobby’s hospital bedside.

It’d only been a couple days since he got the call. A doctor had been looking for a Mr. Snyderson.

Bobby enjoyed informing Dean years ago of the name he would have to answer to if he received a call from someone in search of Bobby Singer’s emergency contact.

“How the hell’d you get yourself into this mess, Bobby?” he asked aloud.

Dean wondered if Bobby had picked the name Edgar Snyderson so that would be all John’s eldest son would focus on. Not the fact that if he ever heard it uttered by anyone else, it would be because Bobby wouldn’t be able to call him a numbnut or an idjit.

Sam was due back any minute. Dean’d tasked Sam with the research part of this mystery, which included combing through the collage of pictures and news clippings hidden on the back closet wall in Bobby’s hotel room.

The room where his comatose body had been found.

Dean had gone to the university to dig up any information on a Dr. Walter Gregg, whose obit had graced Bobby’s case board. Finding out about unapproved dream studies led to the name of a test subject, Jeremy Frost. The college kid made it clear the doctor had been playing fast and loose with his research and the people involved. That equalled a whole lot of potential enemies and nefarious insinuators. Bobby was probably close to figuring out who the murderer was.

The machines whirred and beeped around the man he’d bet his life on, if he had much left of it to wager.

Dean was shy of six months before his demon bill came due.

“I don’t need you rolling out the red carpet for me in the hereafter. Pretty sure you ain’t gonna be taking a sauna or walking over raked coals. But we don’t need you practicing your harp skills anytime soon, either.” He bit his tongue at the name that almost slipped out. He tried not to mention her if he could help it. The more time went on, the more he hoped it would stick; his nonexistence for her. “It’d kill her if something happened to you.” He nodded to no one. “We’ll figure this out.”

As if on cue, his studious brother entered the room. “How is he?”

“No change.” Dean wiped a hand over his face and stood to meet Sam by the tray table at the edge of the bed. “What you got?”

“Well, considering what you told me about the Doc’s experiments, Bobby’s wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense.”

“How so?”

“This plant, Silene Capensis, also known as African Dream Root, it’s been used by shamans and medicine men for centuries.”

“Let me guess – they dose up, bust out the didgeridoos, and start kicking around the hacky.”

Sam scoffed. “Not quite. If you believe the legends, it’s used for dream walking. I mean entering another person’s dreams, poking around in their heads.”

“I take it we believe the legends.”

“When don’t we? But dream-walking is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this dream root is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with enough practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good. You could turn good dreams bad.”

“And killing people in their sleep.” Dean added the obvious.

“For example. So, let’s say this doc was testing the stuff on his patients Tim Leary-Style.”

“Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night.”

“But what about Bobby? I mean if the killer came after him, how come he’s still alive?”

They both stared at Bobby.

“I don’t know.” Dean tapped Sam in the middle of his chest. “Come on. Man needs as much beauty rest as he can get before we wake him. And a kiss on the lips better not end up being the cure.” He strolled to the doorway and turned back in time to see Sam making his way to Bobby’s side.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing we’ve ever had to do to save someone.” Sam chided in a soft whisper over his shoulder towards Dean. “Stay strong until we can figure this out, Bobby.” His gigantor hand gripped Bobby’s pale one.

Dean marched out into the hallway in wait. Something heavy lodged in the base of Dean’s throat. He swallowed but the fear wouldn’t loosen. The possibility of losing Bobby. The memories of his father in the hospital right before he died kept rising to the surface. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Sam finally joined him. They walked down the hall towards the nurse’s station and the elevators. Their steps got into that synced soldier rhythm they easily fell into often. Dean wished it would continue in silence. But out of the corner of his eye he spotted Sam’s mouth open and close. Trying out the lines in his head before he’d have to share what he was thinking.

With that much thought, Dean knew it wasn’t going to be anything good.

When it was only the two of them in the elevator going down, Sam spoke. “Am I gonna have to be the one that mentions the elephant in the room?”

Dean’s gaze lifted to the ceiling. He sighed.

“We gotta call her, Dean.”

“No. We don’t. We’re gonna handle it so she doesn’t have to ever know what kind of danger Bobby was in.”

“She deserves to know,” Sam mumbled. “Bobby’s important to her. Plus, all of this dream stuff…”

“Sam,” Dean started.

Sam got his hands and arms in the conversation now, waving them about. “She should be here!”

“No!” Dean huffed, raising his voice back at Sam. He glanced at the number display. “I still need to work this case with you. I shouldn’t even be in the same state as her, let alone the same room. We can’t risk that, Sam. Not again.”

“You of all people know what she’s capable of. She could get into Bobby’s head.”

“Yeah. You know it. I know it. Bobby knows it. But, as far as we know, Elena doesn’t. As long as she doesn’t remember me, she won’t be doing any ‘Wonder Twins, Activate’ shit. And we’re gonna keep it that way.”

“Dean!”

“No. Bobby’s been onboard with the plan, all of it, for the past six months. Last I checked, you were, too.”

“Not like you gave any of us a choice.” Sam snarked.

Dean ignored the jab. “Bobby’d want us to exhaust every other option before we pull her into something like this. Again.” He pointed at the floor as the door’s slid open. “We find another way.” He waved a hand for Sam to exit first. “Let’s go, Sherlock.” They covered the distance quickly to another set of double doors. “So, how do we find our homicidal little sandman?”

“It could be anyone.” Sam stated, looking thoroughly exasperated.

“Yeah?”

Yeah.

Dean rattled off possible suspects. “Anyone who knew the doctor, had access to his dream shrooms.”

“Maybe one of his test subjects or something?”

“Possible, but his research is pretty sketchy. I mean, we don’t know how many subjects he had or who all of them were.”

Sam scoffed.

“What?” Dean asked.

Sam sighed, long and deep. “In any other case, we’d be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now.”

Dean halted, pulled at Sam’s forearm to stop his brother’s stride. “Know what? You’re right.”

“What?”

“Let’s go talk to him.”

“Sure. I think we might find the conversation a bit one-sided.”

“Not if we’re tripping on some Dream Root.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

~~~~

There’s been no response from Bobby by the end of my work day.

Something was up. A car question always ensured Bobby would return a call within hours.

I call the other hunter who knows almost everyone’s business as much as Bobby does.

“Elle Woods.” Garth coos his nickname for me. I still don’t get how he made the connection between me and the fictional main character in Legally Blonde. “How’re you doin? To what do I owe this honor?”

“Hey, Garth. I’m trying to get a hold of Bobby. He’s not answering my calls.”

“Oh?” The one syllable expresses confusion.

“Yeah.”

“When’d you last talk to him?”

“It’s been about a month.” My face warms at the confession.

“Oh.” The one syllable is laced with judgment.

I let the guilt was over me as I wait.

“Hm. Well, I had to call him about a case I worked in Baton Rouge, Louisiana last week. There was this circus in town and a murder pinned on one of the performers. Killer clowns couldn’t turn their victims into a pile of green goo last I checked.” Garth chuckles.

I veer the conversation back. “Was he okay? Everything good at the salvage yard?”

“Oh, well, he wasn’t home. Was working his own case.”

My skin tingles at the news. It’s not surprising to hear. Bobby hunts on occasion. It’s more the reminder of the dream I had of him that morning that puts me on edge. “Where was he?”

Garth sighs. “If memory serves right, he was investigating something that happened at a university in, I think, Pittsburgh.”

“Okay, thanks Garth.”

“Sure thing, sweets. Want me to try and check in on him, too?”

I smile. “Appreciate it.”

“I’ll tell him to call you ASAP if I make contact.”

“Thanks.”

“No problemo.”

“Talk soon.”

I hang up. Pittsburgh. It’s clear across in western Pennsylvania. A good six-hour drive from me. Couldn’t be any farther from Matamoras and in the same state. It makes sense he wouldn’t bother to call me. Not like he could do a quick pop in.

Still.

I click my teeth. Moments later, I’m clicking away at the keyboard, searching anything weird over the wire that matches what Garth told me. Only one news headline has me screaming Yahtzee in my head. There’s mention of a university neurologist dying in his sleep. Cause: Unknown.

It’s not much. But, it would catch Bobby’s eye. And he’d do some digging. So, I do the same. The neurologist was the research head of a large, ongoing sleep study. And, another article hints that his death may have been the result of foul play.

I then do what Bobby always suggests I do when I can’t get a hold of him and he’s off on a case somewhere. I contact hospitals in the area.

By the third phone call, I’ve found him. All I can get out of the medical staff is that he’s unresponsive and been in their care for a few days.

An hour later, I’m on I-80, headed to Pittsburgh.

My brakes are squeaking big time.

~~~~

(Italicized Dialogue from S3, Episode 10, “Dream a Little Dream of Me” - Teleplay by Cathryn Humphris; Story by Sera Gamble & Cathryn Humphris)

My driver’s license (fake) gets me the information I need at the hospital. Next of kin and all that. A doctor runs through the updates on Bobby’s current medical state while we stand at the nurse’s station. It's good news. Bobby woke up a few hours ago.

The doc questions why I wasn’t listed as an emergency contact. He mentions that they had to call a Mr. Snyderson instead. I shrug, rattling off that my Dad probably doesn’t think I know how to manage an emergency.

I wonder who the hell Mr. Snyderson is as I get Bobby’s room number and am pointed in the direction to find it. Mainly I’m relieved that the closest thing I have to family - that hasn’t disowned me - is conscious and doing fine by all accounts.

I don’t even need to check the number, hearing Bobby’s voice drift out into the hall from a room just up ahead on the right. “We better work fast… and coffee up. ‘Cause the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep.”

I take a cautious step in and prepare to meet “Mr. Snyderson.” A very tall figure with expansive shoulders stands at the side of Bobby’s bed. His broad back is to the doorway. It’s the moppy head of hair that I recognize first. My brain swims with sudden knowledge and memory. I feel overwhelmed and a bit lightheaded.

Sam. Sam Winchester. A hunt. We worked a hunt together a couple years ago. Road tripped from Maine to California. I even remember spending some time with him at Bobby’s after a car accident he’d been in with his dad. I’m also struck with the fact that he lost his dad. The scattered moments don’t have any connective tissue that I can discern. They catch my attention like twinkling ornaments atop a Christmas tree. Each represents some commemorative event I need to be reminded of.

Bobby sees me in the doorway. His face runs a litany of emotions. Serious to surprised. Welcoming to worried. “L.” He whispers.

I smile. Sam spins. His rotation hints at the shape of someone sitting on the other side of Bobby’s bed. Sam settles with a stare at me and walls off the stranger for the time being.

Sam’s as cute as I remember. There’s a bit more mass to him. And then, I remember us bonding over his psychic abilities. It’s disorienting, the flashes and pops of life bursting out of hibernation.

“L?” Bobby asks. “You doin’ alright there, kid?”

I shake my head and manage a smile again. “Considering I’m visiting you in the hospital, don’t you think I should be the one asking that question?” I hesitate at the awkward glances Sam and Bobby shoot each other. I flap my hands at my sides. “Hey, Sam. How are you doing? Been a while.”

His eyes bug. “H-Hey Elina. Yeah. I’m, I’m doin’ pretty well.” A hand scratches the side of his neck. “How’s things in Matamoras?”

“Good. Doing my best to stay out of trouble.” I point a finger at him. “Are you Mr. Snyderson, who got the call about Bobby instead of me?”

“That’d be me.” There’s a terse answer from the other side of the room. The figure is still hidden by Sam. A scrape of chair legs follows.

Sam swallows. Hard. He steps to the side.

My gaze lands on a pair of bright green eyes staring back. The guy is male model attractive. My skin warms up in a reflexive response to all that pretty. “You can call me Dean, though.” He smirks.

“Dean?” The name registers instantly. “Sam’s brother?”

He nods and puffs his chest out. I can’t quite tell if it’s a smug posture or if he’s donning some invisible protective armor.

“He-” I start to fill the gaps in my mind as my mouth reveals the facts. “Sam’s mentioned you.” Older brother. Cocky. Pain in the ass. Overbearing.

I don’t get a response in return. Instead, Dean turns to Bobby. “We’ll touch base if we hear anything else.” He rounds the edge of the hospital bed and taps Sam on the arm. All I get is a quick nod from Dean before he disappears.

“See ya.” Sam smiles, lips scrunched tight. He stumbles past me out of the room, following his older, shorter brother.

Yeah, I’ve met my share of guys like that before. Bad boys have never done me any favors. Way more trouble than they’re worth. I keep reminding myself of that as I catch one last glimpse of Dean Winchester in the hallway before Sam shuts the door behind him.

When it’s only the two of us, I hurry over and give the old man a careful embrace. He taps my back in assurance. “I’m fine.”

I peel away and stand to squint at him. “Let me guess? Fine enough to hop back into solving whatever caused this.” I plant my hands on my hips. “Why can’t you fall back asleep? And why does that Dean dude rank as your emergency contact?”

He squints back at me. “The Winchester boys are family, too, L.”

“Sam’s what you’d call an absolute peach, Bobby, I’ll give you that. But, I don’t have any firsthand experience with Dean to make a judgment call.”

“Hm.” Bobby nods slowly. “Could’ve sworn you’ve met both of them.”

“Nope.” I definitely would have remembered Dean Winchester.

~~~~

I knock on the door to Bobby’s room at The Aviary Hotel.

There’s a delay. I can hear some cursing and arguing as I wait. The taller squatter opens the door part way in greeting. “El.” Sam smiles.

“Hi.”

“Everything alright?” A hand stuffs into a pocket and he leans against the door, filling up the space.

“Bobby’s probably getting released tomorrow morning.”

“That’s great news.”

“It is. I figured I’d grab him some clean clothes for his discharge.” I sweep a hand towards him. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, uh…” Sam stammers.

“For chrissakes.” Dean’s voice interrupts. An arm pushes Sam back into the room and out of the way. Dean grimaces at Sam before giving me a dose of all that attitude. “Listen, Elena, it’s great that you’ve decided to come all this way and play nursemaid. But, we’ve got actual case work to do. So, would you make it quick?”

I blink at the condescending tone. Bobby filled me in on the details back at the hospital. I had felt a little sympathy at the predicament Dean has found himself in. HAD. “Oh, of course. Certainly don’t want to interfere with all your great case work. Is there another suspect you need to give a DNA sample to?”

Dean’s irritation crumbles. He looks like a shamed puppy that’s peed on the carpet.

“Don’t mind him, El.” Sam pulls the door all the way open. “We’re all a little high strung at the moment.”

I scoot in between the brothers. The room’s wallpaper is a feathery explosion in blues, greens and yellows. “Well, the decor isn’t going to help calm anyone down,” I critique.

Dean flops in a sad looking armchair and grabs sheets of paper on a nearby side table to study with intense interest.

Hospitality must be Dean Winchester’s middle name.

“Get you something to drink?” Sam strolls by Dean, backhanding Dean’s bicep along the way. Dean pays him no mind.

I wave a hand. “Nope. Just point me in the direction of Bobby’s stuff and I’ll be out of here.”

Sam offers a soft smile in apology and gestures to a set of louvered bifold doors. The room is crazy huge. A full kitchen and another door that must lead to the bathroom make up the other half. There’s a desk on this side of the living area. More papers litter its surface, along with a laptop that I recognize as Sam’s (various stickers are slapped on top).

Yep, the brothers have made themselves at home. The double beds have been slept in by the state of the sheets. I smell greasy fast food.

When I open the closet, Bobby’s entire wardrobe is hung up. I grab the empty duffle from the closet floor. “Was he planning on moving here?” I frown to myself. When I remove the first plaid ensemble from a hanger I spot the case board on the back closet wall. “Ah, of course.” I take my time and fold one shirt with care before packing it. Then another. Taking my sweet time as I take in all the information.

I decide to inquire with the friendlier Winchester. “So, Sam. Bobby told me what happened to him.” I turn to see him sitting at the desk. Dean’s in my field of view in the background as well, still reading. I attempt a poke. “That he was stupid enough to make himself a prime lullaby target of this Frost kid.” Dean’s mouth purses but he doesn’t look over. “Got any ideas yet on how he gets some shut eye without being murdered?”

Sam sighs. “No.”

I want to ask if he’s thought about using his powers while he’s asleep and under the influence of the African Dream Root again. But I don’t know how Dean feels about his brother’s powers. Or, if he even knows for certain. My memory is still hazy and I don’t want to risk outing him or stirring up a touchy subject. Something tells me Dean wouldn’t handle Sam’s powers well if he did know.

“Well, if you need me to try and make contact with someone on the other side, let me know. I mean I haven’t done it in a while, but I can always give Bobby’s friend Pam a call if I need some guid-”

Dean bolts out of his chair. Papers crumple in his tight fist. “We don’t need you to do anything.” The dismissive tone matches the inconsequential way he stares at me. “We don’t need anyone else fucking things up.”

Sam rotates in the seat, arm resting along the chair back. His bewildered and angry expression towards Dean is all I focus on. My cheeks warm at the berating from this stranger with a chip on his shoulder the size of the Grand Canyon.

“From what I hear,” Dean continues, “you are giving the normal life the good ole college try back in Montezuma. I suggest you keep it that way. And get as far away from all this as you can.” His voice cracks at the end. That sound makes me dare to lift my gaze back to him.

He’s trying his best to be an all-knowing asshole. But something’s cracking the veneer. I don’t think he’ll be able to keep it up for much longer. For a moment, I want to march right into this guy’s personal space and slap him. Right before I hug him. But it’s a fleeting inkling. I nod at him. “I’ll get this stuff to Bobby. Sounds like the both of you can handle picking him up at the hospital in the morning.” I inhale and prop up a smile as I turn to Sam. It’s the only way I’ll keep my lips from quivering.

Sam’s brows angle down. “I’m sorry, El.” He whispers.

I shake my head. I can’t speak. If I do, I’ll cry. And I don’t fucking know why my body is reacting like this to the things Dean Winchester said to me.

My heart is racing. I walk with lightning speed to the door.

My brakes are squeaking big time back to Matamoras.

~~~~

Sam’s tired. He should be the one sleeping in the back seat.

He’s the one that’s lived through and remembered hundreds of Tuesdays where Dean died. He didn’t have the blessing(?) of a memory wipe with every morning reset. Now, he panics when he stumbles upon a radio station playing the chorus of Asia’s most well known song. He woke up on so many Tuesdays to “the heat of the moment.” Those words grate like fingernails across a chalkboard every time he hears it. Hearing that music always makes him question for a couple seconds if he’s been dropped back into Groundhog Day Hell.

One Tuesday did have a Wednesday after it. Without Dean.

Sam’s lived six months without Dean already. The Trickster showed him what life would be like without his brother. Sam spent those six months obsessed, determined to find a way to bring Dean back from the dead. He’d convinced the Trickster to snap his fingers and take him back to a Wednesday where Dean lived. Honestly, the Trickster probably got bored of Sam’s sulking and found another puppet’s strings to pull. But, regardless, Sam got his brother back.

He hasn’t bothered to share any of what happened during those six months with Dean (or that one of his deaths actually stuck). Not when they’re trying to prevent Dean from going to hell.

Sam’s need to fix messes could be considered heroic –maybe even to him– if he wasn’t the reason the messes were created.

Sam’s not sure how much one person is expected to withstand. If he and Dean are in some kind of tragedy endurance contest, he’d like to tap out, please, and wave the white flag in surrender. But, then, he thinks about Dean going it alone. When he decides that’s not an option, he straightens up, plants his feet, and braces for the next wave of sorrow to pummel him.

So, yeah, Sam’s tired. But still determined that his brother’s not gonna die. Not anytime soon. Not if he has a say in the matter. Especially when Dean’s no longer resigned to the inevitable of his demon deal coming to fruition.

Sam can push through the exhaustion and fight for Dean’s future because even Dean wants a chance at what’s possible for himself.

Sam saw it with his very own eyes in Dean’s dream. Not the dream Dean’s currently having in the backseat. In between snuffles and snores he’s mumbling nonsense (something about wrenches and spanners). No, what Sam witnessed in Dean’s dream months back proved Dean thinks about a future of what ifs.

The dream had occurred days after he and Dean had managed to wake Bobby from the nightmare coma courtesy of Jeremy Frost. Days after Dean found himself in grave danger of becoming Jeremy’s next victim.

Dean hadn’t slept for days. The threat of never waking up again meant classic rock on full blast in Baby. Gallons of coffee. A concerning amount of No-Doze pills that Dean most definitely wasn’t taking to cram for a college exam.

Bobby had kept himself awake researching with Bela. In between, he spent a lot of time fuming at Dean for the way he’d sent Elina packing. Dean brushed off Bobby's grumpy attitude and reminded him it was best for Elina.

Dean had eventually reached a breaking point, gave his safety a big ole’ “fuck you,” and decided sleep was worth the risk. He’d driven Baby to a clearing off the road, parked her, and leaned back to close his eyes.

Sam harvested some of Dean’s hair right off the scalp, insisting that if Dean was going under he’d need someone to watch his back in the dreamworld.

When they’d both roused from sleep in the Impala nothing had seemed off.

Until Elina popped up in the backseat.

“Finally!” Elina exclaimed.

Sam almost pogoed off the bench at the sound made by a person that most definitely could not be there.

She bopped first Dean’s, then Sam’s, shoulder with a folded up newspaper. “Geez, you two were really knocked out.” Her elbows and arms draped atop the front bench’s backrest. “I was gonna give you five more minutes of beauty sleep. I know you both need it.”

Dean’s eyes widened, staring at her. His lips parted.

Sam dared to interact with the apparition. “El, what are you doing here?”

Her brows furrowed. She nodded in pensive thought. “I ask myself that question every day, Sam. What the hell am I doing with my life, hunting with the likes of you two?” She nudged Dean’s shoulder with an elbow and grinned at him. “Saving people: an absolutely non-existent way to earn a living, am I right?”

Dean nodded back and offered a confused smile. “R-right.”

Elina looked from Dean to Sam then back to Dean. “You okay?”

Dean nodded with increased fervor and turned in his seat to give her his full attention. “Yeah.”

“Better be. I think I found us a case.” She presented the paper to Sam. “Take a look.”

Sam took the offering and gazed at the front page. A jumble of letters littered the paper like a word search puzzle. “What are we looking at?” Sam bluffed.

“A man was found dead in the famous confectionery amusement park in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Police hadn’t released details of the death to the public.” She tapped the spot that appeared to be a headline. “An anonymous source talked to this reporter and said the guy that died had been literally encased in a chocolate mold. You know, like those chocolate bunnies? Only this was a gigantic chocolate dude. Impossible to create anything like that in the on-site factory.”

“Solid Milk Murder,” Dean mumbled. Sam watched his older brother fixate his gaze away on Elina’s face.

“Get this,” Elina continued. “This reporter did more digging into the victim’s life. Six months prior his father had died. Dad had been a supervisor at a candy factory in a Delaware beach town. He’d been pulled to pieces in a taffy stretching machine.” She scooted behind Dean and wrapped her arms around him. Dean stiffened in shock. “Sticky situation,” she mumbled into Dean’s ear and then pecked him on the cheek. Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A small smile lined his lips. When his eyes blinked open and Adam's apple twitched with a swallow, he appeared to relax into the embrace. “I say the Three Amigos see if this is our kind of thing.”

Before Sam or Dean could respond a noise rattled outside of the car. Elina flickered out, gone in an instant. There’d been no time for either of them to discuss what had happened. They quickly exited the car to investigate.

Dean manifested Lisa next. The scene was the perfect slice of Apple Pie Life. A picnic in the park. Lisa had even told Dean she loved him before disappearing.

Things went downhill from there. But, they’d made it out of the dream alive. Jeremy hadn’t, thanks to Sam turning the tables.

Unfortunately, Bela had broken into the safe in the hotel room and stolen the Colt. Bobby left them with a promise to be in touch if he got a lead on her or the gun’s whereabouts. That was the only thing they thought could kill Lilith.

Sam finished packing back at the hotel. A heavy mix of anger and defeat hung in the air. Quietly writing, Dean hunched over the desk in an attempt at privacy while Sam bounced around the room grabbing all their items. Sam spotted names on the envelopes Dean stuffed into his bag when he was done. One read Lisa. The other, Elina.

It wasn’t until they headed out to the car and tossed the bags in the trunk that Dean spoke.

“Hey Sam, I was wondering, when you were in my head what did you see?”

“Uh, just Jeremy, he kept me separated from you. Easier to beat my brains out I guess. What about you? You never said.”

“Nothing. I was looking for you the whole time.”

As easy as it was for Sam to withhold all the dream details, he was pretty certain Dean was doing the same.

The car doors creaked and squeaked. When they settled in the driver and passenger seat, Dean said, “Sam…”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been doing some thinking. And… well, the thing is… I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go to hell.”

“All right, yeah. We’ll find a way to save you.”

“Okay, good.”

Sam’s lived through his own hell since Dean confessed wanting salvation from an eternity of torture. With everything they have been through, they’ve got nothing to show for it. They still aren’t any closer to finding Bela and the Colt and the magic bullet that will put an end to Dean’s demon deal.

The last case in Milan, Ohio and the monster they encountered fed off Dean’s fear of dying. The crocotta had used its powers to mimic their dad’s voice and contact Dean through the phone. The monster, claiming to be John, told Dean he could help him locate the demon that held his contract.

Dean had opened up to Sam after they’d defeated the crocotta back at the motel room.

(Dialogue - in italics - from Ep. Long Distance Call; written by Jeremy Carver)

“I wanted to believe so badly there was a way out of this. I mean, I’m staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell… for real, forever, and I’m just…”

“Yeah.”

“I’m scared, Sam. I’m really scared.”

“I know.”

“I guess I was willing to believe anything – you know, last act of a desperate man.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having hope, you know.”

“Hope doesn’t get you Jack Squat. I can’t expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can’t expect anybody to, you know? And the only person that can get me out of this thing is me.”

“And me.”

“‘And me’?”

“What?”

“Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that’s what you come back with – ‘And me’?”

“Do you want a poem?”

“Moments gone.” Dean turned on the television. “Unbelievable.” He passed Sam a beer and they drank in silence.

They’ve shaked and baked their way through a handful of demons since that case; trying to get any information on the real demon that holds Dean’s contract. But they keep hitting a brick wall. Whatever owns the agreement to Dean’s demise scares the holy hell out of every demon they’ve encountered.

Sam might have a lead on a novel way out of Dean’s contract. It doesn’t involve facing off with the Demon that makes every underling willingly choose an exorcism over betrayal. The solution may be wrapped up in the potential case they’re heading to in Erie, Pennsylvania. Sam knows it will be a hard sell if his hunch is right. But he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

For now, anyway, Sam’s got another trick up his sleeve. He offered to drive from Ohio into Pennsylvania so Dean could get some shut eye. The trek had taken longer because he passed right on by Erie. On purpose.

Sam’s luck ran out about an hour from the destination when Dean stretched and sat up in the backseat.

Sam clocked Dean in the rearview mirror. He checked his watch. Eyes widened. “What the hell? Did you drug me? I’ve been out for like seven hours.”

Sam had thought about knocking his brother out. Thankfully, he didn’t need to resort to that. Yet.

Sam shrugged. “My smooth driving lulled you to sleep.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean chuckled.

Sam’s jaw clenched as he passed a highway distance sign that displayed the city where they were headed.

“Sam.” The mirth in Dean’s voice disappeared. “Sam,” he repeated. “Are you lost? You better be lost.”

Dean has always looked out for Sam. Sam knows, deep down, Dean’s always wanted happiness for him. Sam wants that for Dean, too. If Sam can unload Dean off to someone that might be able to help him get happiness in whatever form - whether it’s the hunting life with Elina or the suburban life with Lisa - why shouldn’t Dean get the chance to try?

“Pull over,” Dean ordered.

Sam shook his head. “Nope.”

“Bitch, what the fuck?”

“Consider this a proactive discussion prior to the demon deal dissolution.”

Dean groaned. His head flopped onto the backrest. “I’m so kicking your ass when you stop this car. And, you’ve gotta stop eventually.”

“It’ll be worth it.” The hesitance in Sam’s voice contradicted the certainty of his words.

Dean was directly behind him now. Sam could feel Dean’s warm breath on the back of his neck as he huffed, “Really?”

Sam swallowed hard. “Yep. We’re gonna find a way to save you, Dean. And, when we do, Elena’s gonna remember all of it.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean murmured.

“Well, if she doesn’t, then Bobby and I will tell her everything that happened.”

Dean slapped him upside the head.

“Jerk! I’m driving!” Sam exclaimed.

“It won’t change anything.” Dean slid to the middle of the back seat. “It won’t change how I feel. She’s better off without me, Sam, and you know it.”

“No, I don’t. And how would she know it when she doesn’t even remember you? You got a shit deal and Elena got dragged in as a free gift with your order.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“I know you didn’t. But, Dean,” –Sam glanced at his brother– “Elena didn’t ask for it either.”

“She’s trying the normal life thing. That’s good. I’d just complicate it all again.”

“You could give the normal life thing a try, too, you know.”

“You aren’t gonna shut up about this are ya?”

“Nope. Come on, no time like the present.” Because there’s literally no time, Sam thought.

~~~~

Ugh. No time!

I rummage through the jewelry box. Again. My gaze darts to the alarm clock on the nightstand. I should have left the apartment five minutes ago if I wanted to appear fashionably late.

The attempt at nonchalance is no longer an option. I will now have to text Gary.

Running later than expected. Wait for me?

Thoughts claw their way up the curtains in my head when I rush like this. I can’t find my grandmother’s rose gold necklace. I know I didn’t lose it. At least I hope not.

Are the blouse and skirt not dressy enough for Bella Notte? I forgot to ask Gary if it’s a formal restaurant. If I send another text it will be obvious I’m obsessing way more than I should. Maybe the outfit is too much? If it is, I probably don’t need the necklace, too. But now that I went searching for it and it’s not where I expected it to be, I have to find it.

My fingers thread through my hair and grip my skull. I’ve gotta calm my ass down.

The phone chirps with news of a Gary response.

Nowhere I gotta be but waiting for a beautiful woman. Just don’t stand me up, alright?

Gary’s flirting. And even through the technical distance of texting this attention increases the beating of my racing heart. I steady my fingers to type.

Of course not.

Screw it. It’s taken almost a year for this first date to happen. I can tear the apartment upside down for the necklace I was going to wear when I return.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the jewelry box mirror. I touch the soft leather cord around my neck. It doesn’t go with the blouse. But I promised Bobby I wouldn’t take the thing off when he gave it to me months ago.

I sigh, thinking about the grouch in the hospital bed. Back then, he asked where the fire was that I needed to get to in such a goddamn hurry. I wasn’t about to tell him I was running away from an avalanche of attitude by the name of Dean Winchester. The passing thought of that guy still bristles my fur. What the hell was his problem?

Bobby ordered me to hand over his duffle I’d brought from the hotel room. It took him a couple minutes to sift through it as he grumbled about my packing job. Eventually, he pulled out a cord with a charm.

“Should have given you one of these years ago, L. They only gotta find a chink in your armor when you’re the most vulnerable. Lost. Without hope.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Demons, knucklehead.” He rubbed the scrap of hair atop his balding skull.

I frowned. “My place is warded to ‘Singer Specifications.’” I air-quoted. “Salt lines get redone on the windows and doors weekly with double-sided tape. I’ve got a spray bottle of holy water on the kitchen counter. You even told me you peeled the upholstery off the roof of my car to paint a Devil’s Trap under it.”

He cleared his throat. “Right, I forgot I did that.” He waves the cord at me. “Overkill? Maybe? But a lot of shit’s been stirred up lately. And there’s an increase in demon activity because of it. Humor an old man. Put it on and promise me you won’t take it off. Ever.”

“Ever?”

He nodded. “Shower with it. Sleep with it. The whole nine yards.”

I’d kept my promise.

But, tonight. Well, tonight, fashion sense beats common as I pull the cord over my head. Before I can drop it into my jewelry box, there’s a knock at my door.

I frown, stuff the cord and charm in my grip, and wonder who’s paying me a visit and how fast I can get rid of them. “Who is it?” I call out.

“Uh, it’s Dean Winchester.” The voice rumbles. “You probably don’t remember me.”

“Oh no,” I mumble and rush to the door. I’m face to face with him after a quick unlock and pull. “What happened?” The question spews out. I hear how frantic I sound.

His eyes widen and punctuate his already shocked expression. “What?”

“Bobby! What happened?”

“Nothing. Bobby’s fine. Back in Sioux Falls, far as I know. Talked to him just yesterday.” He raises a hand to apparently calm me.

The gesture has the opposite effect. From my limited encounters, any reaction from this man reeks of condescension. I lash out with what I think is biting sarcasm. “Good. Hopefully Bobby put me down as his emergency contact like I asked, Mr. Snyderson.”

He confuses me further with a smile.

I shake my head and try not to focus on how cute his smile is. Or how long his lashes are and how that only adds to the flirtatious vibes when his lids flutter over those green eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Sam and I were in the area. On the way to a case.” He rocks back and forth from heel to sole.

I peek past him to the staircase landing. No Sam.

“He’s waiting in the car, outside.” Dean clears his throat. “He figured it was better I do this alone.”

My hand lands on my hip as I try my best cool-and-could-care-less stance. “Do what?”

He sighs. “Apologize.”

I’m staring up at this guy. Not as tall and eclipsing as his brother, but still much taller than me. He’s wearing a leather jacket that’s a little too big for his frame. A fleeting thought has me wondering if it’s Sam’s. But that can’t be right. An older brother doesn’t get his younger brother’s hand-me-downs. There’s hesitation and uncertainty in his eyes. Their gaze flits from side to side. For a moment, he seems smaller.

And sincere.

“I’m on my way out,” I state. Then add, “but you can come in for a minute.”

He tugs a smile up the corner of his mouth and hurries inside. My nose twitches at the odor of stale sweat and something metallic.

“This is a nice little place you got here. Just like I imagined it would be.”

Why the hell had he been imagining what my place looks like?

His hands disappear into his jacket pockets. He strolls into the middle of my apartment.

I close the door. “You mentioned apologizing.” I’ve got places to be, buddy.

Dean turns to stare back at me. He lifts a brow, then steels his jaw. “Yeah.” He rotates on his heels to face me full on. “I was a dick and you didn’t deserve any of my bullshit. I’ve been going through some shit for about a year… not an excuse, I know that. But, I figured an explanation to go along with the apology was in order. Trying to make amends to the people I wronged before I hang up my hunting license.”

“You’re quitting?” For some reason, the confession utterly surprises me. I know nothing about this guy. But, none of that lines up in my brain about him. “Getting out of the life?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He smiles. It’s forced and pinned high on his cheeks. “Got any tips?”

“Tips?”

“Yeah, how’d you do it?”

I shake my head. “Tips should come from someone who’s done it successfully. I can’t say I’ll never get wrapped up in a case again. It’s a work in progress.”

He shrugs. The long jacket sleeve almost swallows his clenched fist at the action. “I don’t know. You’ve got a job. Your own place. Sounds pretty successful to me.” He spins, slow and deliberate, taking in the details of my apartment.

It should feel intrusive. Privacy invading. But, I find myself taking advantage of the opportunity to study his mannerisms. His lids squint, then relax. He licks his top lip. There’s a slight nod to some steady bopping tune that might be playing in his head.

Dean halts and stares at something. He bends over and leans to the side. On his way to the dresser, he crouches with creeping steps. Investigation mode appears to be activated with a graceful squat. A hand sweeps along the wood floor out of my view. He hops up to standing. Something shiny dangles between his fingers.

I float over in adulation at the sight. “Oh wow, you found it!”

He grins and drops it into my open, waiting palm. “Pretty important?”

“A gift from my grandmother.” My gaze darts to the corner behind the dresser where it had been hiding. I connect the dots. “It must have slipped over the side.” I inhale and beam at Dean. “Thank you.”

“Glad I could help.”

I drop the anti-possession charm on the dresser and use both hands to put on Grandma’s rose gold necklace.

Dean points to the leather cord. “Don’t forget that.”

I shake my head. “Doesn’t go.”

The judgment in his eyes wipes away any mirth on his face. “Bobby gave you that, didn’t he? He’d be awfully disappointed to know you weren’t taking precautions. ‘Out of the life’ doesn’t mean you slack off on being careful.” He scoops up the cord and unties the knot. A nod precedes his order. “Hold your arm out.”

I’ve obeyed before I realize it. He wraps the cord around my wrist a few times, turning it into a bracelet. Warm fingers fumble against my skin to fasten the leather. They slide up my forearm just enough to tuck the charm under my cuffed sleeve. “There,” he states. “Don’t have to worry about clashing or demons tonight.”

I’m about to thank him again when his eyes do a double-take in the direction of my dresser. He stares in surprise. “You-uh-you collect a lot of cat figurines, huh?”

I huff out a laugh and joke, “Yeah, I’m easing into the crazy cat lady role.”

He picks one up from the dozen miniature cats without asking.

I smile at the little angel in his hand. “That’s my favorite one.”

Dean raises a brow. “Another gift?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Best guess is the people that rented the apartment before me forgot it in the dresser they left behind. I found it in the bottom of a drawer under my clothes one day.”

“Oh.” He nods. “Why’s it your favorite?”

“I don’t know. Just makes me smile.”

“Hmm.” There’s a far away expression on his face.

I suddenly remember I am now very, very late for a date. “Well, Dean, I appreciate you coming by to apologize. No hard feelings. I hope things work out for you. Really.”

Dean relocates the angel with care. He straightens and gains a couple of inches. “I can use all the hope I can get.”

I nod along with him for what seems like forever.

“Riiight.” He stretches the word. “Have a nice night.”

I trail him to the door. “Tell Sam I said hi?”

He turns and looks at me. “Will do.” A hitch of breath follows. I wait for him to say whatever it is he seems to be mulling over. He offers me a soft smile. “Goodbye, Elina.”

The door opens and closes in a second and he’s gone. I’ve been surprisingly affected again by one Dean Winchester. And even though the apology should make me feel better, I somehow find myself worrying about the mysterious and aloof hunter.

I sigh and choose not to dwell on it if I can help it. After all, I’ve got a date!

I rush to the bathroom one more time.

~~~~

Gary’s lips are insistent. Not super rough. His hands curl about my waist. The door handle by the passenger seat presses into my lower back.

The front seat of my VW bug isn’t very roomy. But, here we are, parked at the Staircase Rapids Canoe and Kayak Launch along the Delaware River. The deserted pull off and the moonlight dancing over the water make for a decent and impromptu makeout location.

Dinner was nice enough. I thought my Fettuccine Alfredo was a little runny. But I kept those thoughts to myself.

Gary was a nice enough dinner companion – from the crusty Italian bread with the dipping oil to the Tiramisu we shared. After months of building Gary up in my head, I thought I’d only find more of him to be starry eyed about. Once we could finally talk uninterrupted, the only new thing I’ve found out is he’s very good at deflecting. He offered up short and stubby answers to most of my questions.

I assumed a cool disinterest had crept up in him by the end of the night. He didn’t ask anything very personal. There was nothing deep and probing. Well, except for his tongue currently in my mouth.

As I rate his kissing technique (there’s too much swirl and suction for my liking) I’m also wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Why am I not able to let go and enjoy the closeness and warmth of this other person? It’s been way too long since I’ve experienced this kind of touch. I don’t need to calculate how long. My inner scorekeeper quickly reminds me. It’s been almost two years since my one night stand in Wildwood, New Jersey.

I’m swimming in a haze of too much wine mixed with indecisiveness. His fingers skirt under the hem of my blouse and test the waters. When do I tell him that’s enough? Do I let him cop a feel over my bra? Despite his insistence to pay for my dinner, I slipped my credit card to the waitress so we could split the cost. I didn’t want to owe him anything.

I’ve done more for less attention and regretted it later. I shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t beat myself up for craving touch and fulfilling a basic human need.

It would be easy if I didn’t want more. And I’m realizing with every slip and slurp of Gary’s mouth that there isn’t going to be anything more than this. Whatever happens.

He whispers in my ear that I look incredibly hot tonight. I should gasp a thank you or toss him a complementary compliment. Instead, I’m reminding myself how expendable and forgettable I am. I’m tallying up how many people I expected to stick around –who displayed a modicum of care and interest– actually did.

Gary has been, well, nice enough. I recall how he offered to look at my brakes months back. Fixed them for me at cost at the garage where he moonlights.

All the chance encounters with this man have been thrilling and invigorating. After tonight, they could be embarrassing and stomach upsetting.

Cause this doesn’t feel right.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I finally get what I think I want… and… it’s not.

“Whatsa matter, baby?” he mumbles the question into my mouth.

I snatch at the opportunity presented. My hand rests atop his chest to push him away. I am done inhaling the red wine and cocoa on his breath. “I-I think it’s getting late.” His offer to drive me home in my car, after I had too much wine, is now an obvious problem. I scramble to sound invested in his well being. “You don’t want to call Jason too late for that drive back to the restaurant to pick up your truck, do you?”

“Sweet of you to worry, but I’m a big boy.” He combs some of my hair behind my ear. “You aren’t having a good time?”

“No,” I hurry out my answer. Gary’s figure is awash in the ashy gray of evening. His face, half in pitch black shadow, gives me little to read. The whites of his eyes are the only thing I can make out well. He blinks in wait. I continue. “I had a great time. But, it’s getting late.”

“We could have an even better time if you’d relax.” His thin lips curl up high into a smirk. Hands overpower with ease and clamp over my wrists. A push and I’m smothered between his chest and the door. He grapples my arms tight against my sides. His mouth latches onto my neck. “Isn’t this what you’ve been wanting?” His question vibrates under my skin.

My heart beats for release. “Gary, please…”

“Hm, begging for it already.” He chuckles.

“No.” I squirm. I shake my head, lift my shoulder in vain to detach his lips from me. “Take me home, please.”

He groans out an exasperated sigh. His bangs sweep over my lips. “For fuck’s sake. We could’ve had a good time tonight, El.” His teeth click. He launches backward into the driver’s seat.

I sit up and wedge farther into the little corner between the door and the seat. Where the hell can I run where he won’t catch me right away? There isn’t anything for five miles in either direction on this stretch of road heading back to Matamoras from Pond Eddy. I massage the skin of one wrist. Maybe I can convince him to drive me home? Promise to continue the fun at my apartment? I could hop out of the car and run to the 24-hour Smoke Shop a block away.

When I switch to the other wrist I notice something’s missing.

Gary starts the engine. The dashboard illuminates and winks to life. He taps on the overhead light. My leather cord dangles from the tips of his fingers. He eyes the charm swaying back and forth. His lips peel back and display pearly whites. “Fuckin’ piece of shit,” he hisses. Under the engine hum a whirr accompanies the opening of the driver’s side window. With a quick slingshot, my necklace disappears into the darkness outside.

“What the hell are you doing?” I’m surprised at my ability to sound angry.

“What did Dean have to say when he stopped by earlier?” Gary asks and turns to look at me. I can see every inch of his face now but he’s not any easier to read.

Oh. Shit.

I grab the door handle.

But I’m not faster than Gary.

He cups the back of my head and slams my forehead into the curved outcrop of the dash. A shock of whiplash shuffles the contents of my skull. It’s followed by a ringing in my ears. Fingers weave into my hair and tug me to sit upright, tipping my head back like a Pez dispenser. I scream at the corkscrew twisting of his hand. Hundreds of strands yank out of my scalp.

“The Winchesters.” Gary is calm and stone faced. He’s in my personal space, staring down at me. “Where are they headed?”

“I-I don’t know.” Balance upended, I’m woozy and confused. “How-, why-”

“Those two are stupid enough to get themselves killed if they aren’t careful, El. Help ‘em out. Tell me where they are going.”

“I t-t-told you. I don’t kn-”

I hear a crack, then realize it was the side of my head getting slammed into the car window. A dull, heavy pulse bangs against the kettle drum that is my brain.

“We gotta do it the hard way, huh?”

I slump against the glass and close my eyes. The surface is cool, slippery. Despite the pain radiating throughout my body, I could fall asleep.

Gears shift. The car judders forward in that familiar way when I give it a little too much gas. Then, it slows to a crawl.

“We’ve got a pool going, seeing how boring as hell it’s been topside lately. Pun intended, by the way.” Gary hums a little to the pop tune blaring from the radio. “Who’s Dean gonna run to before his deal comes due?” He announces the question like a game show host. “I had my money on you. Always thought you had an advantage over Lisa. I mean, yeah, there’s Ben. That meat stick has a soft spot for kids. But, you, I mean come on, you were in the life. You know what it’s like. You get him. Well, when you remember him.” Gary snorts. “You saved him for fuck’s sake!”

I force my lids open. Something sticky’s blurring the vision of my right eye. The headlights are creeping over a dirt path. Gary taps the steering wheel to the song’s beat.

“Wha- talkin’ ‘bout?” I murmur.

“You pulled out in the lead at the last minute. Spray a little scrubbing bubbles in there” – he presses a finger to my temple – “and I’ll get what I need, get out of this ass backwards town and onto bigger and better things. A promotion from Lilith. Maybe visit New York City. Get up to some trouble.” Gary turns to grin at me. I’m seeing double, his figure swimming in and out of focus.

His eyes turn totally black.

I shake my head. The pounding only increases.

A demon. There’s a fucking demon driving my car.

“Gotta say I’m a little disappointed.” Gary slams the brake pedal hard. My body flails back into the seat. I groan as Gary continues talking, shifting into park while the engine runs. “Thought we could have some real fun before getting down to the doldrums of business. This wasn’t the way Gary wanted to end up inside you, either.”

I gotta get out of here. I reach for one of the door handles but I only fist at air. Beyond the car hood, I can only make out a sliver of the dirt path awash in high beams. Ripples of water, the color of black volcanic glass, sway and meet the edge of the earth.

Sudden and abrupt, Gary’s palms cradle my head. A kaleidoscope of black-eyed masks circle in my vision. “Open wide so I can have a peek, baby.” His jaw unhinges. Smoke expels from between his lips. Onyx clouds hang in the air. Terror bubbles up and a pitiful yelp leaves me. His gaping hole of a mouth turns up at the corners in a sinister cheshire cat grin.

The smoke appears sentient, swirling its form into a thread with a needle-like point heading right toward my mouth. Then, I feel the invasion. The alien gas slides down my throat. It violates and expands throughout my lungs and inflates in dominance. It’s rough, uncaring, pawing under my skin for control. My vision is gone, a complete blackout. I can’t stop blinking in hopes I will see something, anything. I gasp somewhere, far away, for breath.

“There we go, baby.” It’s my voice, but I’m not saying the words. I’ve been amputated from the body I’m stuck inside. The prisoner part of me rattles around in my brain, beating against my skull. “It’ll be better if you don’t fight.”

My sight returns but it’s distorted. I’m peeking through a fisheye lens. My hand adjusts the rear view mirror - without any directive that’s mine - so I can stare at my reflection. Half of my face is smeared in blood. My blood. My fingers push matted hair off my forehead and cheek. My eyes leer at my own visage, lascivious and coveting. My tongue peeks out to lick the blood dripping from my nose.

“Oh, we’re gonna be able to get so much more done with this body.” Incorporeal fingers flip through my memory. “Hm. You weren’t lying. You don’t know where they went.”

“Elina?” A hoarse voice mumbles out of Gary’s body slumped in the driver’s seat.

“All those naughty thoughts.” My voice holds a condescending, judgy tone, as I stare at Gary. “Maybe if you’d paid more attention to taking care of that sickly aunt you wouldn’t be in this mess, Gar.” One of my hands feels its way up Gary’s shirt and under his suit jacket. It finds something cool and hard inside the breast pocket. My other hand unceremoniously pulls the clear bud vase from the mount it resides in near the steering wheel. “Lilith appreciates your service.”

Gary stares at the folded hunting knife in my hand. A firm wrist whip releases the blade from the confines. He scrambles to sit up in the seat. “What-what are you-”

Gary doesn’t get to finish his sentence. I’m screaming in the cage of my brain. My hand slashes at his throat, plunging deep into the flesh and meeting the resistance of bone. My wrist twists. My other hand places the bud vase near the gaping wound. Blood gurgles and spurts into the receptacle as Gary’s head flops to the side.

I can’t stop screaming.

“Hopefully that’s enough.”

My voice quips out some lines of Latin as my eyes stare hard at the tiny vase.

“Fuck. Well, guess that killing two birds with one stone saying doesn’t apply here. Not enough juice.” My hand tosses the vase into the back of the car. “We’ll just give Sam a ring and find out where he and Dean are. Find another warm body to make another call. Then we’ll update Lilith on our progress.” I see my lips scrunch up in the mirror’s reflection. “Gary’s gonna have to go for a swim.” My body expels an exasperated sigh.

I can’t stop screaming.

“Shut the fuck up. Or when we track Dean and Sam down, I’ll cut their tongues out and feed them to you.”

I gasp, stunned and muted by the threat.

“That’s better. Now where’s that cell phone of yours.”

Dropping the knife, my hand searches the footwell by my heels. The demon will secure my purse in moments.

Dean’s face flashes in my memory. I can use all the hope I can get.

“You get him. Well, when you remember him. You saved him for fuck’s sake!” Gary’s voice - the demon’s words - replay in my head.

Demons lie.

But I remember Sam. Sam doesn’t deserve whatever this demon has in store for him. And, deep down, I’m pretty sure Dean doesn’t deserve it either.

From the periphery of my sight, I see blood seeping out of Gary’s fatal wound. The wound my hands created.

Demons kill.

The demon won’t hesitate to do this again to someone else.

Unless I fight back.

“You can’t fight me.” My voice sing songs. “You don’t get out of this until I say.”

I remember Sam. Sam was able to do things he hadn’t thought possible when something was important enough to try and save.

“I told you to shut up.”

I realize how similar my voice sounds to my sister’s when she used to tease and scold me.

I hated that.

The engine idles, a background hum to all of the crazy.

My hand flips my phone open and begins to tap through my contacts.

I won’t be used to hurt another person. Anger boils and the body I’m in heats up around me. My thoughts zone in on how the gear shift would feel in my hand. How I’d press on the brake while I switch from Park to Drive.

The pedal bears down and the gear shift clicks to R, N, then D.

“What the–?”

I imagine my foot lifting off the brake and slamming the gas.

The car hiccups forward, almost rearing up on its wheels like a horse being whipped. It’s only a few seconds and then it’s bobbing as if it’s been fitted with hydraulics. Gary’s lifeless body bounces in the driver’s seat.

“You psycho bitch!” My voice screams. “Your funeral, not mine!” I feel my jaw open wide, stretching muscles and tendons to their limits.

The lights flicker out in the car. I focus on the sound of water lapping against the exterior. Whatever is going to happen next, I hope it’s quick.

“What the hell?!?” My voice roars in the dark. “What did you do?!? Why am I stuck?!?” My head whips side to side with a feral intensity.

I imagine chuckling like a victorious villain. The Devil’s Trap on the ceiling. Bobby came through for me. Again. Even as my body shivers at the cold water surrounding my feet, I know I can do one last thing to make the man proud. After all, I aced my Latin class in college.

I thread the words of the exorcism together, echoing in my brain.

“No! Stop!”

My body is betraying me again, either because of the demon or because I might be weakening its hold and control over my flesh. I’m fading. Lids too heavy to keep open.

Glass breaks behind me and water rushes in. The ice cold shocks my heart. Hands wrap around my waist and tug. I’m pulled through the water. This must be what dying feels like.

I break through the water’s surface. “El!” A hand wraps around my waist. A body tangles around mine in the river and drags me somewhere.

Pairs of hands hold me down on hard ground.

“Fuck! Sam!”

The Latin chant spills from a familiar voice, fast and furious.

Sam.

The force of water and smoke expelling from my throat jolts me awake. My eyes flicker open.

I see them.

Sam and Dean stare down at me. A heavy full moon hangs in the sky behind them.

“Hold on, El!”

Dean.

I can’t, though.

~~~~

I wake up screaming.

Sam and Dean are gone.

No moon. No night.

I’m in a room. Yellow fluorescent light.

My heart races. Something beeps.

I stare at a drop ceiling.

“El!”

Pamela. Pamela’s here. I gasp for air.

“It’s alright, darlin’.” Her hand soothes a warm trail up and down my arm.

I slowly realize “here” is a hospital room. I am in a bed, sensors taped to skin and needles tapped into veins.

“Aw, sweetie. Everyone’s gonna be so happy to know you’re awake. Doctor’s gonna want to check you out and talk to you.” She sighs. “Unfortunately, so are the police.”

My mind swims with newfound knowledge. “Dean.” I croak out. “Where’s Dean?” I turn to see her watercolor blue eyes inspect me. The usual troublemaker grin is nowhere to be found.

She pats my hand. “Later, sweetie. Listen to me now.”

“Pamela…”

“Do you remember what happened to you? In the car?” She strokes the hair atop my head. “Do you remember what that thing did to you? Do you remember what it made you do to Gary?”

The knife in Gary’s throat. The blood. I nod. The tears flow.

Pamela nods back. “That’s what the police want to talk to you about,” she whispers. “But, if you claim it was self-defense-that he was gonna hurt you-trust me, it’ll be an easy sell. Those two lawyers you work for, Mitch and Ryan?” I nod as she continues. “They’ve been by to check on you and keep me informed of the investigation. Gary’s Aunt Cheryl’s been rotting away in the basement of her house for months. Gary” –her voice even lower– “that thing joyriding him, it had you in its sights all that time, just waiting for the right moment, like a goddamn serial killer. Cops found photos of you all over the house and satanic” –she air quotes– “stuff in his room.”

My head spins. “Why? Why was it after Sam and Dean?”

A nurse pops in. Her face lights up. “Oh. How’s the patient?”

Pamela smiles and grips my wrist. “Sis just woke up.”

The nurse beelines to the side of my bed and checks the IV drip. Her gaze skirts over me and then at the monitor. “Dr. Wallace is making the rounds.” She clears her throat. “We’ve been given specific instructions to notify the police department as soon as…”

Pamela waves a hand, “Just do whatever you gotta do so we can get her out of here as soon as she’s able. Please.”

The nurse nods and zips out of the room.

“Sis?” I notice a dull throb from my forehead extends to the right side of my head. Oh, yeah, my skull met the dashboard and a window. The painkillers are obviously holding back a torrent of pain.

“Bobby needed one of your relatives to watch over you while he…” Pamela trails off.

“He’s with them, isn’t he? Sam and Dean?”

“What do you remember?”

It’s all a jumble. Memories and thoughts can’t reconcile themselves. “I remember knowing Dean, and then… not. And then, knowing him again.”

Her fingers rub circles atop my hand. “I don’t know all the details. Bobby’s a vault when he swears to secrecy. But, the long and short of it… this Dean Winchester made some kind of demon deal almost a year ago.”

I close my eyes. All I hear in my head is Dean.

I don’t like any of this, though, not one bit. I can’t keep literally dragging you into my shit.

Whatever this connection is, it’s obvious we don’t have any control over it. And that can go real bad, real quick.

You’re special. And I want you to stay that way.

“Oh, Dean,” I whisper. “What did you do?”

“Hey.” Pamela gives me a soft nudge. “This Dean sounds like a ton more trouble than he’s worth. You need to worry more about yourself right now, those police that are going to be by, and getting better. Bobby’s orders.”

~~~~

I was in the hospital for two more days under observation because of the head trauma I sustained. Once they ran me back and forth for numerous tests I finally got discharged with orders to rest.

I’ve been on lockdown for three weeks. I’ve also got security detail.

Not from the cops, mind you. I was convincing enough with my story. They bought that what I did to Gary was in self-defense. It wasn’t like I had to embellish much, just selectively omit some details. The demon had left a trail of crazy and murder that only supported my innocence.

No, I’m on lockdown with Pamela. And Garth, my security detail, has been ordered by Bobby to act as a sentinel outside my building. When he’s not in his car by the entrance during the day, he’s tucked into a sleeping bag by the threshold of my door at night. Pamela sleeps on the couch. I am within eyesight of either one of them in my twin bed. No one could ever claim this studio apartment is spacious.

It’s not so much about who might be coming after me, I suspect, as much as where I might run off to. Bobby called Pamela often. There’d been discussions, of which I’d not been allowed input, that maybe I should be moved. But the logistics and the where couldn’t be agreed. I couldn’t be taken to Sioux Falls. That meant Sam and Dean were there.

Garth had to get on the phone one night and offer, “Geez, Bobby. Law enforcement here is so on edge even the wind changing direction gets the third degree. No way anyone new or somethin’ out of the ordinary gets by them for quite a while. This is probably the safest place for El to be right now.”

That seemed to be good enough for Bobby, finally. Not for me. All I want are answers from Dean about why he thought wiping my memory of him was a great idea. More importantly, all I want to do is help him. Nothing involving a demon is good, I’m living proof. And anything involving a deal with a demon is a thousand times worse.

Pamela went out for food and supplies one morning while “cousin” Garth and I had a late Saturday breakfast. It was the first time we’d been by ourselves.

“You never met Sam and Dean Winchester?” I ask and slurp the sweet sugared milk from my cereal bowl.

“Nope.” Garth helps himself to another serving of the copycat Froot Loops.

I sit up and eye him as he digs in. “So, it was Bobby, then, that had you destroy my phone?”

He gasps, then coughs, mouth full of cereal. A little milk dribbles out of his nose. The features on his cue ball of a head scrunch in towards the center at his discomfort. “What?”

“Come on, Garth. Be honest with me.”

He wipes the mess off his face. “Alright, fine. Yes, Bobby had me do it.” He raises a hand. “And before you ask, I swear I don’t know why. He just told me you needed to be kept out of harm’s way and getting rid of your phone would help with that. So, I did.”

“I know why,” I mumble. “Erase any trace of Dean. It was probably Dean’s idea and Bobby just had you execute it.” I stand, itchy with irritation, and head over to the sink to deposit my cereal bowl. “Doesn’t it piss you off? The way Bobby doles out orders and we’re supposed to follow them without question?”

Garth blows his nose, I’m guessing to clear it of any residual milk. He flares his nostrils and does a little head shake. “Way I see it, Bobby’s survived this long on more than a little luck and a lot of praying. Like it or not, he’s usually right.” Garth looks up at me from his seat. His face wrinkles up into a thoughtful expression. “Bobby did tell me you got pretty close to those Winchesters. The Dean fella, in particular.”

I cross my arms, lean against the tiny bit of counter space that makes up my kitchenette. “I thought so.” I sweep my socked foot along the linoleum floor. My gaze lands on the cat figurine collection across the room on the dresser.

“Thought?”

I zone in on the cat angel. The one Dean got me. The one he picked up when he was here and trying to apologize when I didn’t remember everything. “Being close to someone means having faith in them. That’s how it goes for me anyway.”

“Faith is hard to come by for some people.” Garth shrugs. “You and I are close but it wasn’t always like that. I had to earn it. Look me in the eyes and say you have faith in everything I do with a straight face.” He raises his eyebrows.

I feel my mouth quirk up into a grin. “Fair enough,” I chuckle.

There’s a tell tale knock at the door. It’s the secret knock and I start for the door. But Garth raises a finger and sprints over before me.

Pamela breezes in with a couple bags. “Alright, I think I got everything on the list.” She drops them on the table and pulls out a newspaper for Garth.

“Thanks, Pammy. Gotta catch up on what Marmaduke’s up to.”

She smiles softly at him, then hands me a pile of envelopes. “Grabbed your mail.”

“Thanks, Pammy.” I parrot Garth.

I don’t get the same sweet smile at the use of the nickname. “I’m makin’ rice and beans tonight. Not up for discussion.”

“Hmmm.” Garth rubs his non-existent tummy and wades through the newspaper.

The two of them chatter. I walk to the couch and flop on it, flipping through the mail. Bill. Bill. Junk. But then there’s an envelope with my name and address handwritten on it. The print is haphazard and hurried. It’s postmarked from Sioux Falls from about a week ago. And in the top left corner are two letters.

D.W.

I purse my lips to hold in a gasp. Once I compose myself I announce, “Anyone gotta use the bathroom before I take a shower?”

“Nope,” Pamela states.

“I am A OK,” Garth replies. “Pammy, you like Garfield?”

I pull some clean clothes out of the dresser and dash into the bathroom while they discuss the merits of Odie.

It’s the only place I can get any privacy. I sit on the toilet, my change of clothes a heap in my lap, and Dean’s letter in my hands.

My entire body shivers. I inhale deep and slow to try and calm down, but it’s not helping. A finger inches under the flap and rips open the envelope. I unfold three pieces of paper that were inside. The first one is on stationery from The Aviary Hotel.There’s a crease etched in the middle, top to bottom, and a few left to right; it’s been folded into a smaller square at some point in the past.

The writing is tight and neat. Different from the one on the envelope.

I’m not gonna apologize for how I acted today, El. What would be the point, anyway? You wouldn’t understand why I had to. Take my advice and stay as far away from Sam and me as possible. –Dean

Short and not very sweet. But, I think back to the altercation I had with Dean in the hotel room with the loudest wallpaper I’d ever seen. It was when I didn’t remember, months back. Bobby had been in the hospital. I shake my head, even now, at how obnoxious Dean had been.

The fucker was doing everything in his power to make sure I wasn’t gonna give a shit about him. But why? Why the memory wipe? I tuck the page behind the others.

The next page is on very familiar stationery. I gave it to Bobby as a cheeky little gift one Christmas. He never uses it, but I know where he stashes it - in the right side drawer of the desk in his library.

Dean found that stationery and probably sat at that very desk to write what I’m now reading. The page has crinkles in it, like it was balled up and thrown out.

I let out a chuckle in nervous hiccups at Dean’s scribble right under the fancy font.

A bunch of BS from the desk of B.S. Ain’t that the truth!!! El, Bobby told me you remember everything. His friend Pamela told him that you’ve been asking about me. I don’t know why your memories came back. The deal’s not up yet. I’m glad you’re gonna get to go home soon. I’m so sorry you got caught in the middle of all of this ,. princess I always just wanted you safe. As much as I wish things could be different, nothing good comes from being around me. It kills me you had to find out the hard way with the demon riding that guy. All those times you saved me and didn’t give up on me, it kills me I’ll never be able to repay you proper. I’m glad you remember me now. Truth is, I didn’t think you ever would again. It hurt to have to push you away all this time. To not reach out and tell you about the stupid thing I did when I was crazy in my head over losing Sam. He died, El. About a year ago.

I stop reading. Drop the papers in my lap. I recall the very healthy looking Sam I saw months back. And the one who helped rescue me only weeks ago.

I traded my soul to bring him back. But the crossroads demon only gave me a year before my bill came due.

My heart beat increases, pounds in my head. Dean’s words trigger the pain from the assault, a deep ache in my bones. My skin prickles with anger.

Sam died a year ago and Dean’s deal was for a year.

No, Dean. No.

The bitch thought it’d be cute to wipe your memory of every little bit of me as part of the agreement. You gotta believe me, El, that’s not what I wanted. I may have thought it was better you’d never met me. But I never would have traded losing you for Sam. Me, that’s a no-brainer.

I turn the page over and continue to read Dean’s words through my blurry vision. The other pages scatter onto the tile floor.

I want It just twisted the knife, having you look at me like I was a stranger. Having to tear into you hurt so fucking much. But it was all I could do to drive that urge to help out of you. You were a great hunting partner. One of the best. It’s selfish of me and dangerous for you, but I’ve thought about what it would be like having you hunt with Sam and me again. Like a team. And it feels right. I think that life, if the apple pie life was never in the cards for me, that would have been nice.

But my time is almost up, so I’m gonna try to hold on to what might have been, wherever I’m going. I just want to tell you that I love need you to stay safe, alright. I need you to be okay when all this is over. And, I need you to be there for Sam. And maybe, maybe he can be there for you, when you want to remember me. Cause I’ll never forget you, Suds. -Dean

Both hands cover my mouth. I stifle the sobs. It’s not helping and I’m only getting louder. Pamela or Garth will knock on the door soon. I lean to the left and twist the faucet knob. A spurt of water shoots out. A steady stream soon follows.

I wish he’d tried to tell me. That night when he was here. I would have thought he was crazy. But, still, I might have told him to have Sam come up and confirm. I might have called Bobby. I might never have gone to meet Gary.

I could have been with them all this time. Trying anything and everything to help. I grab the page again and look at that word he’s crossed out. Love. He could have written anything after that. He could have just wanted to remind me that he loves pie.

But somehow, I think not.

More tears come.

I flip the lever so water cascades out of the showerhead. I wipe my soggy eyes with the back of my hand and gather up the other dropped pages.

The last page wasn’t written by Dean. The print is large and loopy. Sam.

Dean tossed both these letters out today. The first one he’d been carrying around in his bag for months in an envelope with your name on it. I saw him dump it in Bobby’s office along with the second note. I wanted to give you the chance to read them now, in case there’s time for you to reach out before we track down Lilith. Maybe give him a reason to keep fighting, El. Cause he’s tired of hearing me. He’s trying to hold on but the closer he gets to the clock running out… I can’t lose him, either. Sam.

I leave all the pages atop the sink. My gaze lingers on the phone number Sam wrote at the bottom of the note. It’s gotta be Dean’s. My brain and body go on autopilot. I cry as I shower, towel off, and then dress into my second set of pajamas for the day.

By the time I exit the bathroom, Garth is gone, and Pamela waits for me on the couch. She’s the best big sister I could ask for in that moment, opening her arms for me to collapse into and cry some more. She waits until I’m ready to tell her everything. When I’m done, she tucks my damp hair behind my ears and gives me a nod for courage.

“You do what you got to do, sweetie. I’ll be out in the hall. When you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”

I know he won’t pick up. And, I don’t know what I’m gonna leave on his voicemail. I stand up and walk over to the dresser. I place Sam’s note on top of it, by my cat figurine collection, and punch in the numbers. The ringing begins and I stare at the little cat angel, readying to say anything after Dean’s greeting.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell so you must know what to do.”

“Hi.” My voice eeks out, a whispery rasp. I clear my throat. “Dean. It’s me. El. I-I just wanted to tell you that I’m-I’m pissed. I’m pissed that you didn’t hang around at the hospital and wait for me to wake up. Cause, ah, I-I did think of a tip for you.” The lump in my throat makes my breath hitch. “Don’t quit the life. Not yet. And don’t wait so damn long to kiss me the next time you see me, Winchester. I’ll, I’ll be waiting.”

I circle my finger along the halo of the little kitty.

~~~~

I don’t sleep that night. I wait for his call. When my phone finally rings, it’s a little after two in the morning.

But the name on the screen is Bobby. He hasn’t called me direct since I’ve been out of the hospital.

I answer but don’t say anything. Just wait for the old man’s voice.

“I’m sorry, L. He’s-he’s gone.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #dean x ofc #angst #whump

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