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yanderes-stuff · 3 years

Note

5; 8 and 9 please and nsfw is optional.

Yes, the feral trio I never did a poly yandere before, and sorry for being so late school was holding me at gunpoint

P.s it's 1:43 am where im at and I got zoom at 7:10 I'll edit the grammar mistakes later but I didn't want you to have to wait any longer

Characters: Skully, Masky, Hoodie

Words 5k

TW: yandere thoughts, cussing, kidnapping, drugging

You met Jay during college when the teacher put you both together for a school project, you got to have a good read on his personality with Jay, being a curious goofy character with a charming atmosphere surrounding him.

After a while, you decided to start the project filming causal nature. you both shared a passion for nature being calmed by the forest, and the woodland creatures which made you closer. After a while, you noticed that he would rarely talk to any of his other friends in favor of talking to you.

This led to many intervals where you caught him staring at you during class and followed you around like a puppy which although made you irritated you brushed it off thinking nothing of it, after all, it's just goofy Jay being Jay.

But alas he fell victim to your charm the conversations he had with you stuck with him and the moments where you were in his presence kept him going till the next day, you reached his heart unlike anybody else he met, and he lived for you alone perhaps it was the way you carried yourself through the gloomy days or the way you were more kind-hearted than anyone he ever met.

He longed to catch your eye and make you laugh but certain feelings were starting to stew inside him whenever he caught your friends talking to you especially if they were putting their hands on your beautiful body and even if they did so casually it made him infuriated he believed that he should be the only one that should be graced by your presence not them

After all, you never knew their intentions but he had a gut feeling they weren't good they didn't love you they only loved you for your looks and looks alone but he loved everything about you and he didn't know why but alas he had friends who were close to you those friends being Brian and Tim his colleague's since high school

However, he had to obtain your affection and warmth to protect you so he wormed his way into your dating life because he had known your crush had his dark secrets that he cheated on his exes and he just couldn't let this snake wrap his suffocating coil and sink his poisonous fangs into you for his esteem

So to resolve this fear of his he followed him home in the dark and threatened to shoot him if he didn't avoid you like a plague but without his knowledge, he didn't know that he was being watched by none other than Tim who mentally noted with haste that he's not the only one who took a liking to you and strolled out of Jay's sight before he could notice him

Relief washed over as he went back to his secret home surrounded by woods away from his lonely college dorm comforted by the fact that the guy that tried to use you had been put in his rightful place now thanks to him all he had to worry about now was the fact that his other friends also shared a connection with you that was too close for his liking

You were his everything now and while he still cherished his friends he wasn't going to let either of them have you even if it put him in danger of course you only saw the good in people and that would include Tim and Brian which he would grow to admire but it would also make him nervous but despite that he knows you love him and he had to make a move quickly to prove he's the only right one for you

Oh how he longed to be anything that would make you happy and today being Valentine's day he promised himself this was going to be the day he asks you out and you'll say yes or at least he certainly hoped you would he grabbed a few things from the store some gifts he hoped would win your appreciation but he had a thought cropped in his mind what if you rejected him and if you did do such a thing how distraught he would be

He waved away those thoughts in his mind trying to convince himself he played his cards right after all he frightened any competition away from you while making sure to be by your side at every moment you needed him the thought of your gentle voice accepting his confession of love made his uneasy mind now calm and focused

Once he reached the school province he took the bag of gifts consisting of chocolates of your favorite brand and bouquets of lovely crimson flowers that are a symbol of his love for you he was finally ready to be your lover and he sure as hell hoped you were too as that thought passed his mind he peeked his head around the corner to your dorm

What he saw made his blood boil and felt a violent sensation he couldn't understand at the time and what he witnessed was Tim brushing his lips against your while caressing your cheek with his rough hand you weren't flinching away but rather leaning in into the troublesome kiss he didn't know Tim could do this he thought he made it clear that she belonged to him

Tim look so entranced by the way your chest raised and fell in sync with his own as he leaned closer with his arm bending above your head caging you against your dorm door

While Jay was peaking he noticed that Tim had a card with a heart placed on in front of it in one of his hands

He quickly pieced together that he had gotten to you first before him as he felt despair overwhelm him why did you have to love Tim of all people he quickly grabbed the gifts and descended the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible at the same time he felt hot tears stain his bitter cheeks that day he drove back to his home weeping

But as he stepped inside an environment of misery following behind him as he sat down on the sofa he didn't think he'd have the guts to kill Tim but little did he know that someone else was in the room with him that individual being Tim and although he didn't want to admit it

Tim planned to kill Jay ever since he witnessed him threaten to kill his old crush since you confessed about liking him which was a big mistake on your part but Tim was glad Jay took care of him but now he had to kill Jay but he acknowledges he didn't want to at all but Tim was afraid of what Jay was capable of when it comes to his unstableness

He knew Jay was infatuated with you and that he's been getting more and more unusual as you continued to spend time with him and he started to dissociate with Brian and Tim which was starting to get concerning because Jay was starting to become extra dependent on your affection to distract him from all the chaos going on in his life

But Jay himself was starting to take drastic measures to prove himself to you and Tim never thought Jay could be capable of violence but he's seen firsthand that he the man that he thought wouldn't harm an insect was contemplating murder out of love

So with guilt, he grabbed his firearm and stared as Jay slowly was lured into a deep slumber he slowly opened the oak closet door so that it was vastly ajar and he tiptoed quietly towards Jays sleeping form beads of sweat was beginning to form on his forehead

Once he loomed over the trembling man's resting figure his silhouette casting a shadow over him his hands shook as he raised the revolver to Jay's temple and his finger was on the trigger there was a small click followed by a thunderous bang

The gory sight of Jay would be etched into his mind for the rest of his life but it would be worth it to protect you but he had to admit it he for some reason felt relief in his mind and another feeling that was off it was a euphoric adrenaline rush he noticed that he was still shaking and realized that he should evade the scene as quickly as possible back to you

You were sleeping so soundly in Tims dorm and Hoodie thought your sleeping form was so beautiful so vulnerable he's been watching you for a while through Brian and he thought this would be the perfect moment to steal you away after he saw the note Tim wrote a letter to you inviting you to come to his place for valentines day

How romantic of him too bad Hoodies going to whisk you away now he recalls seeing you and Tim go on a dinner date in Tim's kitchen he prepared your favorite dish the reason he knows this was because he placed cameras in more secretive places to check on Tim and his episodes when he would become Masky and go out to do God knows what

Hoodie knew Tim was trying to keep he alter personality a secret from you as well as hide his more obsessive side when he would become Masky he would stalk you and take pictures of you going about your day and attach it to his wall later to look at when Tims feeling emotional which Tim had to compile in a box the day previously so you wouldn't freak out at him

Which Hoodie would probably have to steal along with you was a thought that came across his mind as he prepared a syringe with an unknown liquid inside of it from underneath Tims mattress he watched the scruffy brunette man got up and picked up a revolver from the drawer with his pale hands and walked out making sure to keep the gun hidden from anyone's view

Once he was out of sight propped up upon his shoulders he began crawling out from under the bed as quietly as possible as not to disturb your sleep as he stood up gazing upon your softly snoring form as he was searching for the perfect spot to prick your neck with the fluid once he found it he punctured the soft flesh injecting the liquid in your bloodstream you awoke for a second not long enough to examine him but only to be held down by the powerful man as he clasped his rough fingers around your both your wrist

"Shhhhhhh [Name.] baby just relax" he mumbled somewhat gently with a smug smile etched on his face, his thoughts instantly twisting into ideas of what he was going to do to you when you finally got back to where you truly belonged. "Everything is going to be just fine."

As soon as the drug invaded your mind and your world faded once again at the same time he hastily took you into his arms and started his journey back to his abandoned cabin into the darkness of the night and when he reached his own home he settled you in the bed in his room with ropes gripping your hands attached to the old oak foundation of the bed as he snuggled into your warm body once he was feeling bold as the night proceeded

"I've been wanting to do this for a fucking real long time." He mutters under his breath into the crook of the cozy soft flesh of your neck "Best part is that he doesn't know where I live so he can't take you away."

Tim didn't know what the hell could've happened while he visited Jay but all he knew was that something was wrong and now you were missing with no signs clues of to where you might be it was only when he found a note under the blankets with just three words that made his blood run cold

She's mine now

Now he knew has an idea of who could've done it Brian has been strange as well lately by giving death glares to him when Tim tries to flirt with you not only that but he seemed to be more encouraging of Jay's stalkerish behavior Tim now realized the mistake he made earlier by leaving you alone to murder Jay before he could murder him Tim believed the only reason Brian was nudging Jay to stalk you was to get Jay to stop bothering him and let him live in peace but now that Jay was dead there was no other suspect left but Brian

As he was piecing together what could've transpired he heard a buzzing coming from his cell phone he took the phone in his hand while the faint glow of light was still emanating when the device as he saw the message from none other than Brian with a string of numbers possibly coordinates to his location where he kidnapped you from him while he was busy

His breath started to get more uneven with his eyes dilating out of fear while thoughts flew past his mind about your safety he was started to hold himself with his hands gripping diagonally at his upper arms while the fabric of his flannel creased as a reaction to his strength he started to tremble not out of distress but resentment his knuckles started transforming into a snowy white from how hard he was clenching his fist

His mind was beginning to feel fuzzy as his own thoughts were starting to get quiet but the static in his mind was getting only louder followed by a loud booming voice that was starting to overtake him again but this time he welcomed it as he didn't know what other actions he could take

Once it finally overtook him a sinister simile was plastered upon his parched slips he was going to get you back and slaughter Brian as atonement for stealing you and maybe keep you in the cabin away from the violence and then he would fix everything thus you would belong to him

"Fuck Brian you know I'd do anything to protect [Name.] anything for her to be mine." He growled under his breath, eyes now focused on the porcelain mask with dark circles around its eyes with eyes knitted up in what appears to be suprise and pitch jet lips on the wall he told you was just for decoration "You're about to regret what you've just done." He remarks followed by a deep huskier chuckle

He clutches his handgun yet again and sets off on a search to locate the coordinates stepping into his vehicle and sliding in the keys before turning it to start the engine and pulling out of the college campus parking lot now focusing on the road in front of him and driving into the nightfall as to not be discerned by anybody

When he finally reached the trail to the cabin he started sprinting his way to whatever location Brian had sent him he had no time to waste following a trail of footprints of crunched leaves and snapped twigs on the surface of the ground floor when he finally reached the window of the cabin he stood and pressed an ear to listen for activity in case Brian was preparing an ambush for him in one of the rooms

He heard the sound of a struggle and the sounds of thuds something else that he couldn't quite make out but it was still extremely worrying

Bam...bam...bam! "AARGH!" followed by a thunderous crackling of somebody he couldn't make out the voices clearly but he could at least assume what's occurring...what if it was Brian hurting you because you did something that made him extremely furious if that were the case he'd have to come and rescue you but at the same time he'd have to keep his alter ego a secret to avoid your concern for him

He quickly wrapped his fingers around a nearby rock and launched it directly at the cabin glass window instantly shattering it to sharp pieces and stepping through it carefully and at that moment he could make out masculine yells coming from the room in front of him now he is certain the voice wasn't actually you much to his relief

As he more steps towards the door intertwining his fingers against the knob of the old wooden door and twisting while at the same time putting his strength against the ancient oak entryway he could still make out another familiar yet unknown voice furiously screaming along with Brian shouting among all the commotion which fueled his yearning to harm Brian for bringing both you and him into his annoying scheme even moree

Then as he walked inside the miserable room with the white paint heavily chipping away following that sight he witnessed Brian in a vibrant orange yellowish hoody stained in certain places with what appears to be blood along with a pitch-black fabric mask covering the entirety of his head beside the hood that was pulled over his head another thing he noticed on the material placed on Brian's face was a red frown along with crimson pinpoint dots for eyes additionally just plain worn out jeans that looked to be somewhat dirty he realized that this wasn't actually Brian but his alter ego whose name was unmistakably known to him as hoodie but he was still going to execute him nonetheless for possibly harming you

But the other figure straddling Brian clutching a cell phone above him looked somewhat familiar with a coffee brown leather jacket with a black hood that was also above his head he noticed the man's jacket happens to also be tinted in particular spots with that easily recognizable red liquid in addition to this he wore a mask that resembled that of a skeleton with two rows of square teeth and dark circles on both of the holes where his eyes would be with eyebrows that looked to be expressing with curiosity

"Give me back my phone right now you fucker!" Brian hissed eyes glaring up at the man on above of him trying to get to pry the man off him "And get the fuck off of me!" He added with a hint of irritation

"SHE'S MINE SHE'S MINE YOU CAN'T HAVE HER SHE'S MINE!" The man snarled in an outrage his tone obviously hysterical as he raised his other fist preparing to hit Hoodie with a flurry of punches aimed at his already bloody face

As Masky stepped closer to the scene there was a painfully audible creak and both men stopped for a second before their head began tilting over to Masky's direction than the mysterious man spoke his words flowing out of his mouth like fluid

"Well...well...well remember me?" He implored Masky swiftly changing his tone from outrage to relaxed while staring at him intently still with that emotionless mask whilst Hoodie kept swatting for the man to get off of him

"No who the hell are you and did you send me that text." He questions feeling himself getting more disgruntled with this confusing situation he opens his mouth to speak once again "And where is [Name.] What did you do to her!?" His eyes gaze directly at the unusual man

"Oh, you don't recall me, your friend? that you shot dead in my own home!" The man glares and scowls at Masky the unpleasant memory started to rise in his mind again "You took my love then you took my life and now I'm back for vengeance"

"Jay?" Masky grumbled, "there's no way I killed you, why aren't you dead?!" He shouted his mind racing with questions maybe he was just hallucinating this whole predicament

"Close im Skully, but about your little question I'd rather not answer that." Skully answered back Hoodie now was panting under him from a combination of him being crushed under his weight and his failed attempts to injure Skully with his sore bloody knuckles

Hoodie was beginning to feel lightheaded from only getting to inhale so much oxygen just when he thought he was about to black out Skully stood up with his eyes boring into Maskys then Skully spoke

"I'm going to...kill you then I'll kill hoodie then she'll be mine all mine." Skully's breathing started to hitch and become heavier like a bear's breathing as he slowly took a step towards Masky "it's going to be all okay everything's going to be fine it's about to be the way it should be."

You started to thrash around in your bounds fortunately to you it was becoming looser you tried to observe the darkness of the environment around you to tried to find a way to escape back to safety there were windows but they were boarded up but there was an old door which caught your eye as you limped over to it still sore from the burns of the rope that felt like a harsh heat

As you wrapped your hand around the knob and pushed you heard the conversation of people in the next room so then out of curiosity you put your ear to the door you could make out a thickly deep voice and some the sounds of some light coughing along with Tims's voice which filled you with both relief and fear

Because on one hand, Tim is here to save you from this place but on the other what if he got wounded by that other man after thinking about what to do in this situation for a minute that felt like an eternity you decided it would be best to step into the room help Tim beat that man and escape with his help and call the authorities

As you stepped into the room everybody peered in your direction you caught a good look at them one being Tim with his dark brown hair and yellow jacket and worn jeans and a white mask covering his face with what looks to have dark lips and circles encasing the holes meant for the eyes the man in front him looked a bit similar

He has a tan leather jacket with a raven black hood and the same worn pants and a white mask white rectangular teeth and the same dark circles around the eyes as Tims but this time with the same eyebrows settled in a surprised manner in your direction as if they were startled by you waltzing in the room

And then finally there was that easily recognizable sound of Brian's roughly breathing you heard in your sleep but right now he was on the floor laid flat with blood with a yellow orangish cloth hood along with ordinary jeans and a black cover mask with crimson red frown and two dots for eyes above it

"What's going on! who are you?" You questioned loudly, eyes flickering around the room. you were wondering why they were in costumes was Tim in on this sick circumstance?

"I'm here for you my beloved and im Jay but...in a different form," he announced casually as he made a fist and pointed his thumb to his face "My names now Skully"

You were confused because Skully didn't look like Jay whatsoever he was taller and his voice was a lot deeper almost in a chilling way and his figure looked to be more stronger than Jay with his broad shoulders but the only thing that was the same about him was the way he spoke

"[Name.] Give me a minute to deal with him. I won't be needing your help." Masky sighs casually trying to weave away in his mind to distract Skully so your as least scared as possible

"That's quite a rude way to talk." Skully quickly brought out his hand and grabbed his pocket knife from out of his jean pocket while using his other hand to clench Masky's throat blocking his airways while Masky started making choking sounds trying to struggle out of his grasp

"If you kill him I won't ever love you!" You blurted out of desperation trying to save your lover from getting his throat slashed from Skully's blade your eyes now are being focused on Tims trembling body

Skully faltered at this his breathing now became even more intense then he dropped Tim with a dull thud then he started to clutch his arms and rocked himself ever so slightly back and forth in an attempt to comfort himself from your words

While Skully was distracted Hoodie who was now back to full willpower hastily got up as quick as possible and clenched Skullys knife from behind and had it now hovering over Skullys throat Hoodie didn't say a word and just when he was about to make the slit you perked up

"No, don't kill him either for the love of God!" You cried out you didn't believe that what Skully possibly done was right but that doesn't mean you want him to perish you took a quick breather before continuing "Don't or else I be able to love you either"

Instead of trying to comfort himself in an attempt to forget your words he just gave a disappointed sigh and slowly backed away from Skully while he raised his hands in surrender secretly smirking under his mask now comforted that you saved him

Masky was now staring at Hoodie already reaching in his pocket for his handgun but before he could you interrupted "That goes the same for you too Tim."

And with that, he stopped in his tracks and looked from Hoodie to you with a blank stare so you couldn't be able to get a read with how upset he was that you would say such a thing especially when it was Hoodie that did this to you and dragged him into it

"Actually I got an idea," Hoodie speaks enthusiastically eyeing everyone in the room chuckling as ideas resurfacing in his head then smirking to himself "If [Name.] Hates it when we're at each other's throats then let's just share her"

Skully had a thousand-yard expression yard stare then he uttered "Actually as much as I hate sharing I'd rather share than be genuinely despised by my sweetheart."

"I'm going to be honest I'm tired of me and [Name.] Getting stressed by college and...I would rather spend more time with her" Masky spoke softly yet reluctantly while his eyes glanced at yours lovingly "And I'd prefer not to kill my friends despite what they've done"

your lips started to depart to talk attempting to sound stern but your voice came out meek "I'm not sure about this." Your stare now focused on the floor and not any of the men in front of you who on the other hand were staring right into your eyes

Now your mind was frantic on one side how are you supposed to split your affection between three of the closest people in your life all the time and also you loved Jay and Brian as a friend and maybe Tim as a lover but you didn't want them to be at each other's throats especially Skully since he appeared to be tougher than the other two men another thing to note is that all three of them could easily hurt you although you can sense that they didn't want to

But what if they forced you into this scenario if you resisted would they punish you or your family so with that last thought in mind you decided it would be best to accept their offer after all it would be selfish to have somebody dying just because you resisted their demented obsession with you and after all…maybe you'll learn to love them over time

So trying to hide the anxiety in your voice and the heat on your cheeks you spoke loudly enough for them to hear "I've decided that your offer is for the best so I'll accept." their face lit up at your words

Skully was the first one to step towards you at a slow pace as he wrapped his arms under your own in a warm tight embrace whilst he put his chin atop your soft hair

Then Hoodie came trapping you in a side hug nestling into your shoulder while you could feel him against your skin grinning ear to ear through the mask

Then there was Masky who came up from behind and settled his rough hands down on your shoulders then he bent down to kiss the back of your neck which made you jolt in surprise in response to this he just chuckled then he bent down and put his arms under your legs and swept you off your feet while the other two men backed off now carrying you bridal style

Then he started to head back into the bedroom where you woke up in taking the lead while the other two followed then setting you down gently atop the soft oak bed while Hoodie reached for something underneath the bed much to your dismay while you were caged in the middle of the bed between Skully and Masky then Hoodie stood up with a syringe in hand while Masky snaked his arms over yours so that your arms were to your side and you were pulled flush against him feeling him purring against your neck while Skully began to stroke your hair with one hand in an attempt to calm you while his other hand was tracing patterns on your thigh

Hoodie slowly came on top of the mattress putting a finger to his lips while silently shushing you not to struggle as you felt the familiar prick of your skin as your sight began to fade and turn black

"Shhhh love you made the right choice we're so glad but now is the time you get your rest." Was the last thing you heard from Masky's lips before you fell into a deep sleep.

#yandere #yandere slenderverse #yandere masky #yandere brian #yandere hoodie #yandere jay #yandere skully #yandere tim #fanfic #fanfiction #anon ask #creepypasta #slenderverse #marble hornets #yandere x reader

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

Anybody - N. Horan Imagine

NOTE: I sincerely appreciate everybody’s patience with me getting to requests. Sometimes its just nice to take a lil break and write a niall amnesia fic, ya know? anyways, here’s another requested imagine (i combined two because they were vv similar), enjoy!

“You’re telling us you’re still single?” The girl scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

It made your cheeks flame up incredibly and your stomach turn in guilt. Normally, this conversation would not have you so antsy or defensive if it had not been for Niall’s presence beside you. The idea to share lunch with the cast one day and have Niall tag along was entirely your idea, so there was nobody else to throw blame on. You were happy Niall agreed almost immediately to your proposal, despite knowing the repercussions if either of you somehow clued that you were together in front of your friends and especially in public.

Your lifestyles were definitely a commonality in your relationship. The constant interviews and public appearances were what led to the two of you introducing one another. You both had a disposition for complimenting people greatly, but had a difficult time taking them to heart. Your first meeting could be illustrated with the two of you gawking over each other’s work and red cheeks, with the subtle flirtatious remark thrown in. But it was the impetus for the exchanging of numbers, and a couple of dinners and intimate nights shared in the bedroom.

More importantly, it led you here at a restaurant surrounded by your costars for one of Niall’s favorite television shows and the man himself. He claimed it to be one of his favorites before he even met you, which you still doubt to be the truth, but you never pushed him for validity. The question from your costar, who could also be considered one of your closest friends, left both you and Niall stunned for a moment.

“Oh, come on. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“You’ve got guys crawling over you all the time.” Another chimes in. You could not argue his point; it happened every time you stumbled across a male fan of the show, over twitter direct messages or blatantly in response to something you posted online. Even during interviews some male hosts would flatter you in the objective to get in your pants, in spite of how clear you made your interests to be platonic.

“So, I can’t be independent and say ‘no’?” You raised your eyebrows, feeling inferior to your colleagues. Unlike them, having a public relationship was off of the table.

“You can. But admit it, you could literallu have anybody, Y/N.” Your friend looks around the table, earning many nods of agreement. You wish every day to wake up and just have the world know your secret. But it did not work like that.

Your publicist immediately refuted the idea of publicly dating when you mentioned your affair with the musician. She went ballistic, claiming you were insane to just post a picture of the two of you to your socials with the mindset of “whatever happens, happens”. It would lead to speculation, which will lead to a closer eye on the two of you and your every move, she argues. Her demands made you want to keep your mouth shut about your fear of being mobbed by cameras off of the red carpet before this conversation. She went on to say the longer you were “available” in the eye of the public, the more popular you would grow. Teenage boys would fawn over you, their girlfriends would google you to see what the hype about you was and hate-stalk you, which would result in a larger following.

Having that disappear all because you were off of the market would make your numbers plummet and lose grip of your male demographic. You were nearly tuning her voice out by this point, until she pointed out that Niall was probably in the same boat. Girl’s loved him; guys were fuming over him. Bigger album sales, followers for days, until the announcement that one of the world’s biggest heartthrobs is officially taken.

You informed Niall about the conversation later that day. And as much as he wanted to say it was bullshit, he could not. It was true. He had attempted many times to present the relationship reveal presentation to his manager and publicist, but both shut him down the moment he began to speak. As of now, both of you were bound by contract to keep your lips shut.

Niall’s aura screamed its independence, so there was no speculation circling him lately about a possible affair. You however, were fresh meat. The new, hottest thing one of few top, trending shows. Everybody wanted to know your whereabouts and who you we’re hanging around with everyday, all day. And it never really seemed to stop.

The night your followers on various media platforms doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled in a matter of hours was when you needed to turn off all receiving notifications. Messages, mentions and questions were flooded to your phone at such a rapid rate that your phone froze. If a photo was even published online of you hugging a man, you would be interrogated about it for the next five interviews following that day.

Recently, the man in question has been your co-star in the series, Ryan. It was clear in the show that your and his character had major chemistry, but outside of the set, Ryan acted like more of a brother figure than anything. He would scare you whenever you turned random corners in the studio, ruffle your hair and bicker with you at any opportunity.

Many gossip news sources were asking both you and your co-star if the relationship between your characters was the same on-screen and off-screen. But it seemed the countless amounts of “no’s” you both delivered immediately after the question was asked was not enough. The other day, a video of him handing you a water bottle with a smile gained thousands of views overnight, as well as theories that you two were hiding a relationship from the public. It could not be further from the truth, but you and Ryan knew it was useless to comment otherwise.

In fact, everybody around you was discouraging the idea to cancel the rumors. All except one person, who always seemed to be cheering you on in your worst moments. And by the eighth week and hundredth photo of you and Ryan allegedly “confirming” your relationship, you had enough.

You stormed into Niall’s apartment with hot feet. You passed by him and paced his kitchen, while he sat up from the couch. Turning down the volume on the golf match playing on the television, he ventures after you and into the kitchen, finding you scavenging his fridge.

“Hang on.” You held up a finger, before retrieving a cold bottle of booze from the fridge. Niall eyes you carefully in your haste to grab the bottle opener already accessible off of his kitchen island and pop the bottle cap off the drink and down half of it. While you guzzle down the drink, Niall gulps, licking his lips.

Chugging a beer, as weird as it sounded, was one of the hottest things Niall had witnessed you do to date.

“Okay,” you slammed the near empty bottle down, taking a deep breath of preparation. “Go ahead.”

“What happened?” He already knew the answer, but it could not hurt to ask. He figured if it bothered you too much to speak about it, you would deny answering. But, considering he was the only person who allowed you to rant to him, you were not going to throw away the opportunity to do so.

“More shit about me and—” That’s the farthest you could let Niall peek at your day before a familiar ringing noise sounds in the kitchen. Niall releases a sigh as you collect your phone from your back pocket, seeing who was calling.

“It’s Ry—”

“Take it. It’s okay.” Niall assures, without you even having to ask. You nod, promising to be quick, though he knew it would be at least twenty minutes before your attentions could turn back to him. That is, if another article was not sent to you about the situation.

“Hey…yeah I saw…” you eye Niall strolling out of the kitchen, his bare back and tense muscles prominent from your view. “Uh huh…” you murmur, before you and Ryan are venting about your day to one another. All of the interrogations at interviews, the photos people had snuck while touring the set, and the trailer for the newest episode that was just dropped. The trailer went viral within two hours because your editors and marketing team decided to include the kissing scene your two character’s shared in that episode along with the montage of other points. By the time you had ended the call, you found Niall showered and lying on his bed. The television in the living room was black, a sign that the golf match ended much earlier.

“Hey…sorry about that.” You mumble, crawling into his bed beside him.

“It’s okay…I assume you don’t want to talk about your day?” He inquires, looking down as you wind an arm over his stomach.

“W-what makes you…”

“I mean, I don’t want you to waste your breath or anything. Judging by the earful you gave Ryan it must’ve been juicy.” Niall remarks through his teeth.

“I was just—”

“Because why waste your time talking to me about it, right?”

“Niall! Stop!” You yell, allowing a heavy silence to fall in between you two. You take your arm away from his middle and sit up, brows scrunching. “Why are you acting like this?” You ask, tone quieter.

“I…don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m just…I’ve been in my head a lot lately. Thinkin’ about lots of things.” He huffs, turning his gaze down to his legs.

“Like?”

“Like…us.” He answers, face solid.

“What about us?” You hesitate with a trembling voice.

“Well, more like how there isn’t an us.” Niall mumbles, voice gravelly. “To everyone else, anyway.” He breathes, trying a smile but with no avail. The sight delivers a brutal sting to your heart.

“Niall…”

“I know we can’t tell anybody; I know.” He rushes out before you could remind him. “But shit, can we at least act like they do when you’re here?” Your lips part, but fail to generate the right words. “Because right now it kind of seems like I don’t exist when Ryan calls and—and when I ask about your day first but he interrupts, it seems like I can’t get a sound out of you after about it. And damnit, Y/N, I want to hear about it! All of it! And having to listen through the walls just to know you’re okay…”

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“I see what everybody else does. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.” You nod, biting your lip to hold back tears much like Niall was doing judging by his crackling voice. The only reason you really spilled your guts to Ryan was that he was in the same exact position you were in, so he would understand you the most. But that was not entirely true. Because right in front of you sat Niall, who was hiding just as much as you were for the same exact reasons.

“I’m…I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Yeah,” Niall sniffs, “who could blame ya? Ya never have time to ask.”

“And that’s not right.” You shake your head, bringing your body up to straddle his lap. After swinging a bent leg over both of his, and situating yourself over his thighs, you stare into his eyes with a shameful gaze. “It should never be like that. I should tell you about my day, and ask you about yours and…I’m sorry, Niall. I’m so sorry I haven’t.”

“It’s okay—” He tilts his head down, but your hand grabs a hold of his chin scraggly with hair and lifts it back up.

“No, it’s not.” You decree. “To be honest, the reason I never really talk about it is because…I thought it wouldn’t matter to you?” At your admission, Niall’s eyes bulge. The feeling of his warm hands flying to your hips calms both of you to an extent.

“Why would ya think that, love?”

“Wouldn’t you be annoyed hearing me rant about some guy people think I’m dating?” Niall nods his head, understanding your point.

“I suppose…but I’d be angry with you. I’d be on your side.” Niall guarantees with a firm squeeze to your sides. It makes a giggle bubble up from your throat, and a smile crawl up to his lips at the sound of it resounding against his bedroom walls. After bringing his hands in yours and lacing your fingers together, you say, “I’m sure you would. You’d hold me…pleasure me…sing me to sleep.” You smirk, watching Niall grow flush beneath you at his noticeable methods of affection.

“Ryan can’t do any of that.” You bite your lip.

“Damn right he can’t! You’re mine.” Niall looks you up and down, pulling your chest closer to his.

“And I’ll start taking that into consideration more. Now, how about I pleasure you this time to start?” You raise your eyebrows.

“I like the sound of that.” His hand starts to reach up to comb through your hair, but the boisterous rings of your phone interfere once again. Niall heaves a breath and sits back, all while you roll your eyes and reach out for the phone.

“Hey, Ryan.” Niall looks up at you, expecting in less than a second to be off of his lap. But he is rather surprised at the feeling of your hand reaching up to tug the loose sweats down off his waist. “You mind if we talk tomorrow? My boyfriend and I are kind of in the middle of something.” You answer with a smirk, watching Niall’s eyes grow right before you. Ryan’s screams of puzzlement could be heard by Niall as you dragged the phone away from your ear and ended the call. And soon, your grip made its way back to Niall’s boxers with a devious smirk on your lips.

“Now, where were we?”

407 notes · View notes

deans-haunted-baby · 3 years

Text

Best Part of Me

*This is my fix-it of Jack’s reaction to Cas’s death in 15x19 and some of the events in 15x18 rewritten. Featuring a flashback post episode 14x10. I was so disappointed they never really let Jack feel this loss when he dreaded that deal for a whole year. The title is from a song by St Leonards. Enjoy!*

Summery: In Hastings Minnesota, after learning from Dean of Castiel’s sacrifice to the Empty. Jack runs off to be alone somewhere in the deserted town. Breaking down and reliving the last good memory of a hunt he and Cas went on together

Sam and Jack sauntered down the quiet roads, surveying the desolated scenery, coming to a 4-way stop. Nothing but emptiness all around them. Vacant buildings and vehicles, one smashed into a telephone pole. Stores still blinking their neon open signs in the windows. Car alarms blaring off in the distance. But no voices. Not a trace of any souls anywhere. Just nobody. Everyone was gone and the two hunters began feeling like they were starring in that Chuck Heston flick The Omega Man.

Jack could see his tall, anguished mentor was distracted, often checking his phone for calls in case Dean or Eileen or maybe Cas… Desperately searching inside the unoccupied cafes and stores in case they missed someone. He’d been beating himself up all night for not being able to save the AU world survivors. And it was driving him crazy not hearing from his brother for the past 12 hours.

“We should’ve heard from them by now.” Sam blurted; quickening his pace towards a truck. Peeking inside. “Come on Dean, where are you?”

“You think they’re alright?” Jack asked uncertain.

“I don’t know. But you were the last person to talk to Cas.” Sam approached the boy getting restless. “What; did he say anything to you before you guys got cut off?”

Immediately Jack stopped; swallowing hard as he lowered his eyes to the pavement. “No…not really.”

The truth was Jack couldn’t get over this weird twinge he felt in his chest; an ache that refused go away. Like a piece of him had been severed and now he was nursing the phantom pain. The Nephilim boy had it ever since the last time he spoke to his father on his phone…before they were abruptly interrupted by static. Last night the group had split. Dean and Castiel went to confront Billie at the bunker while Jack stayed behind with Sam at the hideaway to protect the remaining people that hadn’t been erased. Next thing he knows survivors are disappearing in front of him, people he knew. Friends and fellow hunters. And then his phone set to vibrate; buzzes irritably in his jacket pocket to which he’d fished it out.

________________________________________

Several hours earlier

“Jack!” the angel’s gruff voice was urgent. But relieved when his son had answered. “Oh, thank heavens.”

“Cas?” the young boy chirps; raking his fingers through his hair. Still not over the shock of seeing all their people vanish and exchanging disturbed looks with Sam. “Cas are you and Dean okay? Did Billie?”

“No, we’re fine,” he replies back; tone switching from critical to sudden despair. “What about you and Sam, the survivors?”

Jack’s face fell on the verge of tears; pacing away from the tall hunter and leaning against the wall.

“They’re gone.” He chokes out. “All of them… Cas…Sam and I tried…we tried… It happened so fast… We just couldn’t save anyone.”

The Nephilim boy heard a heavy sign on the other end then Castiel says, “It wasn’t your fault Jack. None of this is your fault, alright.”

“No, I could’ve done something! If-if I still had my powers, I could’ve protected all of us!”

“Jack, no. Don’t do that to yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done and you did all you could do, okay.” The angel encourages firmly though soft. Giving Jack a chance to calm down before he adds. “Listen…there’s something I…need to tell you…in case anything happens.”

Jack’s heart rose in his throat. “What do mean in case something happens to you?” he demands; voice rising. “Cas what’s wrong?”

“Nothing…yet.”

“What does that mean?”

“You remember what we talked about?” There’s something in Castiel’s question that begins to worry the young Nephilim. “The night we were hunting in Albuquerque?”

Jack let out a sharp intake of breath. “Yes but…what does that have to do with right now?”

The angel hesitates briefly and resumes a response; spontaneously changing the subject.

“I’m so proud of you Jack. I’m proud of the person you are and who you’re becoming,” Castiel’s deep baritone was gentle as it always was whenever he spoke to his son. Never above a decimal than he had to; reserving his emotions. Yet the sadness was unmistakable. “The day that I met you and your mother…changed my life forever. When you chose me…I knew…I knew the moment when I first connected with you through Kelly…felt your love…that I wanted to be your father. And I never felt more happiness in all my eons than I did raising you.”

“Cas why’re saying this?” Jack stuttered; his eyes glistening. He was so confused over the angel’s choice of phrases. “Don’t…”

“Jack I…I need you to do something for me…alright?”

Castiel’s request was blunt yet sudden, jerking the young Nephilim out of his afflicted stupor. “What is it?”

“I want you to look after Sam and Dean for me,” He says melancholically. “Can you do that?”

“Why? What about you?” Jack gasps; his whole-body trembling; going cold. Sinking into a corner holding his knees. Yet he tries to maintain his anxiety during the situation. “Cas, you’re scaring me.”

“I know this is going to be difficult for you to understand but…I want you to be strong, Jack. Stronger than you’ve ever been… To never give up on yourself no matter what. Because I know you will do amazing things one day. I believe in that. I’ve only ever seen good in you.”

“Cas…”

The angel pauses, and with another sigh he reveals, “I love you, son. I love you more than anything in the whole world… You’re the best part of me, Jack… I’m happy because of you; for the time we got together. And I just wanted you to know that…”

Jack could hardly speak his throat clogged. Tears now rolling down his cheeks. He wanted to return those words so badly, his chest swelling like something crushed him from the inside. Finally untangling the muscles in his neck, he pleads.

“Cas…Dad, wait I-” just as the Nephilim boy is about confess the line goes dead mid-sentence followed with an indescribable pain hitting him in the heart; causing Jack to drop his cell in defeat. Muttering the words to himself. “…I love you too.”

________________________________________

Present time

Not long after the two hunters had given up their search for signs of life, did they hear a familiar engine of a car. And a black 67’ impala wheeled around the corner of the street; parking beside two large plants in front of a blue and white store. Dean, he was alive. Sam and Jack wanted to feel elated at that moment…until they saw him exit the vehicle. Alone. And the Nephilim boy’s chest pains increased. Why wasn’t Castiel with him? Jack was too afraid to even ask in case he got an answer he didn’t want. So instead, the three guys traded bleak looks in the middle of the road; minding the fragments of what was once a functioning civilization.

“Everyone’s gone,” Sam says to Dean; barely leveling his shock. Looking around with that false hope someone else might pop up. Then he glances back at his older brother who’s avoiding his gaze. “You see anybody on the way here?”

“No.” the elder Winchester replies huskily. His expression tormented. Again, Jack is afraid of reading him too closely.

Sam fidgeted on the spot; squints his eyes and imparts, “I couldn’t save anybody.” A hint of bitterness enflames his voice at the thought of that reaper. “Billie.”

“It wasn’t Billie. It was Chuck.” Dean discloses.

“What?”

Right then Jack couldn’t keep quiet anymore. He needed to know the truth; impulsively jumping into the conversation.

“Where’s Cas?” His voice was harsh.

The taller Winchester peered over his shoulder at the Nephilim boy but Dean couldn’t even give him direct eye-contact. Visibly shaken. Jack had detected redness within the whites of his puffy eyes. He was so anguished about something that it made the other two hunters nervous. Finally, its Sam’s turn to inquire about the angel’s whereabouts.

“Dean, where is he?”

The elder Winchester was apprehensive; staring off vacantly. Hanging his head and licking his lips trying to conjure up the best explanation he could which might lessen the blow. But Jack was impatient; arms at his sides. Heart pounding with fear. He doesn’t want excuses he just wants a straight answer from his other mentor about his dad. And he was going to get it whether he liked it or not.

“He saved me. Billie was coming after us and…Cas fought her off until we found someplace safe,” asserts Dean and he looks over at Jack who’s getting paler listening to the story. “While you and Cas were…speaking on the phone, he summoned the Empty. It took her. And it took him…” Jack’s heart instantly sank to his stomach. No, this couldn’t be true. No. The Nephilim boy backpedaled, shaking his head in disbelief. Noticing the tears in the hardened hunter’s eyes. “I’m so sorry Jack… Cas is gone.”

Sam’s grief had swallowed him up whole; touching his face with both hands. Struggling to keep it together. But Jack was the opposite. Standing there wearing a hollow smile; releasing a counterfeit laugh.

“No, that’s not true,” argues the Nephilim. “I just talked to him last night. He was okay.”

Sam attempted to console the boy; quickly wiping at his wet face. “Jack.”

“Cas’s fine you’ll see. He’s coming back. He has to come back. I didn’t get to tell him I loved him too.”

But Dean hardly in the mood for sentiments wouldn’t play along. “Jack, he-he’s not… Cas isn’t coming back. I’m sorry.” As Sam tries to reach his hand out to touch the young Nephilim’s shoulder, he receives a heated defensive glare.

Nobody touches him there except for Castiel. NO ONE.

“NO!” Jack barks jerking his body away from the taller hunter’s grasp; face beet red. Even though he already knew. Felt the truth in his heart all along the second that line went dead; the boy had been reluctant to accept it. He was too overwhelmed with denial. “I said Cas’s is coming back! HE’S COMING BACK!”

“Jack, wait!”

Quickly the Nephilim storms off in a random direction of the street; ignoring the Winchesters’ shouts behind him. It didn’t matter where he was going, he just needed to get away from them. Away from the sunlight. From the noise. Away from everything else still standing. Into nothingness. Somewhere that didn’t feel so loud or enclosed. Putting a palm to his head, Jack starts to feel dizzy and an urge to vomit. His vision blurred and his legs began to wobble each step he took. Nothing felt real anymore. It was terrifying.

He could hardly breathe as if something were suffocating him.

Over and over, Jack’s mind is racing in between panicked breaths. “Cas? Cas, where are you?” Reaching his hand out in front of him like a blind person; aimlessly searching for that invisible tether that bound him to the trench-coated angel. Receiving nothing but a light breeze against his skin. “Dad, please, tell me where you are?”

At last, the Nephilim boy stumbles on an old dessert parlor. Sammy’s Highway Café. Despondently gawking at the stupid giant pink milkshake on top of the sign. Walking inside not caring whether he was trespassing or not. The lights were off but Jack could see traces that this place was thriving not too long ago. It smelt of stale food and drink; evident of half eaten platefuls of burgers with fries and empty glasses sitting on top of some of the booth tables. Along the counter was a partially bitten donut beside a cold mug of coffee. A receipt with some money next to the till. And draped on one of the stools, it seemed as though someone had left their beige jacket which resembled so much like the angel’s trench.

Fragments and memories…of live people. Before Chuck took them…just like Castiel. His father.

Stepping towards a jukebox tilting his head, Jack’s blue eyes meet a half-full glass of milkshake sitting on the table close by. Pink, like the one on the sign outside. It disgusted him. A serge of hatred suddenly overflowed his body; knocking it onto the floor and smashing into pieces on impact. Unable to avoid the dibble of pink goo getting on his jeans only enraged the Nephilim more. Resulting in a fit of fury; swiping everything off the counter. Kicking at stray contents clinging to his shoes. His throat clogged up as the anger gave way to uncontrollable sobs. He wanted the pain to stop, but no matter how many things he destroyed, the hurt wouldn’t leave him.

“Cas you liar! YOU LIAR!” he howled; covering his tearful face with one hand collapsing into a corner. Crying. “You said you’d still be with me!”

For over an hour Jack sat like this; breaking down into his palms over his knees. Shedding more tears than he ever thought possible. Practically wearing his eyes out. It was his fault. He should’ve said it back, why didn’t he say it back? Why could he never tell the angel how much he’d meant to him when it counted? Jack wanted the tears to stop the but every time he tapped into an arbitrary memory of Castiel’s face smiling back at him or giving him that infamous sage advice. Heard that soft raspy voice saying his name. The pain worsened causing Jack to cry harder and longer.

All of a sudden, a sharp jab interrupted his grief. Jack was just about to grab the thing whatever it was and toss it until he realized what it was. Digging inside the sleeve of his white jacket, the Nephilim pulls out a single silver angel blade. Jack had completely forgot he’d been carrying it around with him since yesterday. No much longer than that, he carried it all the time in his clothes for a year now as it was very special to him. Wiping at his eyes, Jack clutches the blade and is instantly transported back into a memory of when he’d first received the weapon.

________________________________________

One Year Earlier

Castiel and Jack were in the outskirts of Albuquerque hunting a couple rugarus in the process of kidnapping a family in a warehouse. Around this time the young Nephilim was on probation for using his powers in the fight against AU Michael’s monsters. Ending with the unholy archangel prince trapped inside Dean’s mind. The reason for the restrictions was because of the resurrection spell keeping Jack alive. Every time he used power, he’d burn off part of his soul; something Castiel and the Winchesters did everything possible to prevent. And the best distraction for boy was usually going on some Team Free Will 2.0 hunts.

“Jack, NOW!” the angel shouts, wrestling with the second monster after his son successfully torches the first.

“I got it!” the Nephilim calls back, aiming the flamethrower nozzle ready to blast the creature. He’d remembered Sam and Dean’s specific instructions that the only way to kill a rugaru was to burn them. And he would’ve if he hadn’t frozen on the spot; Castiel would’ve been fried otherwise. There was no way, he couldn’t risk it. “I-I can’t! I can’t get him!”

“Jack, what are you doing?!”

“I don’t want to burn you!”

Immediately the angel groans grumpily. “It’s not holy fire!”

Jack wasn’t a gambler. “Yah but-

“Jack!”

Running out of time, the frantic young hunter goes over another strategy in his mind. He wasn’t willing to singe his dad to stop a monster. And that’s when it hit him. Reckless though it just might work.

“Wait, Cas let him go!” he clamors.

“What?!” Castiel was mystified at how crazy that plan was.

“Just let him go, trust me!”

Taking on too much faith the angel puts his trust in his son anyway and releases the rugaru; dodging out of range. As expected, it instantly launches at the nonchalant Jack who’s armed and ready with the flamethrower; projecting a lethal jet fuel of fire. The Nephilim then covers his ears as the creature releases high pitched throat screeches; its entire body engulfed until the thing’s charcoal hide falls lifeless to the ground. Breathing a sign of relief, Jack stares at the dead monster; spacing out. Brought back to reality when he hears the angel grumbling and rushes to his aid.

“Are you okay?” he asks his dad breathily; helping him to his feet.

“Yah, I’m fine.” Castiel belches; still sore from the fight. As an angel he was much stronger than a human, though it still hurt getting punched in the ribs. And the monsters he tangled with were far from weaklings. “So that was your plan? Just let him go, huh?”

Jack shrugged smirking. “It worked didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did.” The reluctant blue-eyed angel agrees dryly; giving his son an affectionate shoulder pat. “Come on, we’re not finished yet.”

“What do we have to do now?”

“Tend to the civilians.”

After releasing the captive family, Castiel and Jack resumed the dreary task of getting rid of the rotten smelling corpses and packing their things into the aquamarine pickup truck. The night air was hot accompanied with the usual sounds of owls and crickets chirping. Jack’s busily loads the flamethrower into the back compartment, unaware his father is taking a moment to gaze at him. Expressionless though underneath that reserved exterior is admiration. Despite using none of his powers, the boy had handled himself just as he’d done the other several times they’d hunted together.

Castiel couldn’t help feeling impressed with Jack; overwhelmed with a sense of pride. He’d come a long way in his training in such a short time; picking up skills faster than the angel had seen any human. But Jack wasn’t just getting better at the combat or the weaponry. His mind functioned more acutely than any other hunter in the field. And he wasn’t even three years old yet. Still there was something about tonight’s hunt that bothered Castiel. His son had nearly given into his own fear. Fear of losing…him; which could’ve costed them the lives of the family they were saving.

“Well, we’re all packed.” Jack announces gleefully; turning to the angel.

Stonily, Castiel approached the young Nephilim.

“Good.” He says; scratching his hair. “Ah Jack…can we talk about what happened back there?”

The question made the boy frown, unwinding his jaw. “Oh…right… Yah, I-I’m really sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean to-” He stopped himself.

But the angel finished his sentence. “To freeze?”

“Yah.” Jack hung his head in shame.

“Do you know why?”

Did he know why? Of course, he did! Jack was afraid. Afraid of hurting Castiel. No…he was scared of losing him and had been ever since that deal he’d made with the Empty. For the past month it’d been daunting on Jack the severity of his dad’s sacrifice; what it meant. Tried as he might to pretend it didn’t trouble him. Smiling, acting normal. the Nephilim secretly agonized over the angel’s fate. To the point where it either made him overprotective of Castiel or reckless during hunts. Just like tonight.

“I…just didn’t want to set you on fire too, that’s all.” Jack answers vaguely earning his dad’s titled scrutinized glare.

Being as close as they were, Castiel was pretty astute at reading his son’s body language. Knowing when he wasn’t entirely honest. “Are you sure that’s what it was…or was there something else holding you back?”

Jack swallowed, averting his gaze. And it dawns on the angel, sighing, looking heavenward. He didn’t need a verbal explanation; putting his hand on his son’s shoulder in an attempt to console him.

“Oh Jack, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how tough this has been for you.”

“I can’t help it,” concedes the young Nephilim; his gaze shiny. “I know you said not to worry about you but…I am. All the time. And when I keep thinking about that deal you made… I get this…awful feeling in my stomach. Like I’m being torn apart…from the inside.”

Castiel’s reserved face promptly falls, listening intently as Jack confides his deepest fears. Knowing that this deal had been causing his son so much grief pained him. The angel felt like someone had just run him through with his own sword.

“Cas I…I love you. And I don’t want to lose you. Not to the Empty or to anything.”

Parting his lips and softening his eyes; slowly absorbing everything he was hearing. Castiel was touched; taking a deep breath before reassuring. “But Jack, that rugaru was barely a threat to me. And you know my deal with the Empty… I’m far from happy for it to take me away any time soon.”

“What if I don’t want it to ever take you?” Jack remonstrates; defiantly scowling.

“I’m afraid its not that simple.” Sadly, contests the angel.

“But…I don’t want to lose you. I hate even thinking about it.”

“I know…so do I.”

Together the angel and the Nephilim boy endure a tender moment, leaning against the tail end of their truck side-by-side; taking small solace in each other’s company. And quietly gazing at the stars. Then out the blue a bright twinkle catches Castiel’s eye; reminding him of something he’d forgotten. His present to Jack. They’d been so wrapped up in dealing with Michael’s shenanigans, he hadn’t even found the time to give it to him yet. Delving into one of his trench-coat sleeves, Castiel presents the dumbfounded Nephilim with a polished angel blade.

“Cas what…why are you giving me this?”

Castiel pursed his gentle smile and winked. “Call it a late Christmas present. I’ve ah, I’ve been meaning to give it to you…when I felt there was a more appropriate time.”

Jack furrowed his brows; observing the weapon. “Your angel blade?”

He humbly accedes.

“Not just any angel blade but…its the very first one I ever fought with.” Divulges the docile angel. With two fingers he carefully touches the tip, devotedly looking over Jack’s awestruck expression. “I won many battles with this blade…for millions upon millions of years. Just when I thought I’d fall…this weapon seemed to…save my life. And I started to look at it as more of a…good luck charm I guess.”

“Cas I…I don’t know if I should take this. It means too much to you.”

“Jack, I want you to have it. Sort of a celestial warrior’s birthright and with your archangel half technically being of royal lineage…and you’re my son.” The young Nephilim grinned at him somberly; working the blade in his hand. And Castiel pauses giving himself a minute to think about what he was going to say to his son next as it would be difficult. Exhaling heavily, he conveys. “But I also want you have it…as a reminder that…wherever I am…I’ll always be with you.”

At this Jack’s eyes find his dad’s; expression dismal absorbing Castiel’s every word. “Because someday Jack its true, I won’t be here and you’ll have to carry on with your life. I can’t say when it will happen…it could be months or years… Whether it’s the Empty or something else…we will be separated… And it will hurt…” The Nephilim boy’s lip quivered as he holds back oncoming tears; looking away. Pain twisting all his insides; he didn’t like this conversation. Though Jack’s ears and heart remained open to the angel; touching his chest using his index finger. “But just because I won’t physically be here anymore…doesn’t mean I’m gone, Jack. I’m right there…within you. Whenever you need me. You understand?”

“I think so.”

Without warning Castiel embraces Jack in a bone-crushing hug; chins touching shoulders. Closing their eyes. And they held each other tight; savoring every single second of that closeness.

“I love you Jack.”

And Jack whispers out of earshot. “I love you too…Dad.”

________________________________________

Present time

Just like that the memory passed. Jack was back in the café he roughed up earlier. Alone. Curled up in fetal position, clutching the precious gift his father had given him; tears still streaming down his face. Hair matted and moist; clothes soiled. And his heart as broken as that milkshake glass he’d smashed on the floor. Castiel was gone. His dad was gone… Forever… It didn’t feel real, more like a nightmare. A nightmare Jack desperately wanted to wake up from. He couldn’t even think about moving his body it hurt too much. Whenever he tried lifting his head the dizziness settled in and he sunk back into his depression.

“No, I can’t do this.” Jack thoughts bombarded; gawking the angel blade in his grip. “I can’t keep lying here feeling sorry for myself. He wouldn’t want that, not after giving his life for me. I’m supposed to be a hunter and a celestial warrior. I have to be stronger now.”

Using every muscle at his disposal, Jack forces himself up off the floor. Grabbing a stool and countertop for support. His whole body ached; weighted down like it was full of dumbbells yet he didn’t quit moving. Jack could hear Castiel’s voice in his mind, encouraging him like he’d always done on hunts and during one of their sparring sessions in the gym.

“Come on Jack, get up! Get up now!”

“Yes, I will,” the Nephilim promises himself; gnashing his teeth. Lumbering forward on his wobbly legs ignoring the agony. “I won’t let you down Cas! I swear I won’t.”

“That’s it Jack, come on! You’re almost there!”

“Okay!”

One foot in front of the other. Jack slowly repeats this method of awkward walking until all the muscles in his legs have loosened and are functioning properly. As he’s feeling more mobile the pain is subsiding. It’s not quite gone but it’s not intolerable either. In fact, the Nephilim uses it to power through the wreckage and towards the exit. Drying his eyes with the back of his palm. Before Jack realizes it, he’s already reached the door pushing it open. And on his way to search for the Winchesters. Because he’s not alone… He’ll never be alone. He has his family. And Castiel is always with him; guiding him.

25 notes · View notes

fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years

Note

Hi again! Sorry for not using ask box at first, I'm on mobile lol. Anyways I was hoping you can do the compainions with a male reader who has PTSD and fluff happens? Its no biggue if you can't! Thanks!

Cait:

(I strongly headcanon she has ptsd as well)

“Hey, ya aren’t looking too good......oh shite.”

All because the house you were searching scrap for had a particularly familiar blue crib within it. She knew from the second your eyes went hazy that something was gravely wrong. However it was when you approached the crib and you became numb to her touches and words she was queued to take action.

With a light sigh she finally forced your unseeing gaze away from the crib, dismayed at the far off look your eyes held.

“Sole, look at me, you’re stronger than this.” She whispered in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “Come on, let’s just get out of here and go get a pint. Sound good?”

Curie:

“Shh, everything is alright mon amour.”

To say she was confused at first would be a vast understatement. It was for once a normal day, no scavenging, no violence, not even a disenchanted settler going off. Everything was calm and yet you could do nothing to stop the horror of a long gone scene rearing its ugly face, sending terror coursing through your veins. To add to your dismay, you couldn’t stop yourself from striking the petite scientist when she got too close. The illusion was abruptly torn away to reveal her bloody nose and hurt look in her eyes.

After this you tried your best to try to explain yourself through feverish tears, only to be stopped by her with her understanding gaze as she gently sat you down and made haste to administer a mild tranquilizer to ease your troubled mind.

Danse: (he canonically has ptsd)

“Soldier? Sole look at me, I know what you’re going through. I’ve got you.”

Danse definitely isn’t the best at emotional thing, let alone comforting someone. However when he was laying beside your trembling form in your shared bed he knew he had to do something. He took it upon himself to roll you to face him, sighing as you adverted your red tearful eyes from meeting his gaze.

“I-..Danse, it was like I was there all over again.” You sniffled, gasping as he hummed whilst bringing you close into his chest.

“Y-you’re not anymore, no..you’re safe now. I..I wouldn’t let you be in that situation ever again.”

Although he knew well that words would never stop the traumatic nightmares much less absolve either of you from the burden, at least it calmed you.

Deacon:

“Woah, sole it’s just me!”

Naturally Deacon reverted using humor when he saw the first signs of your distress. He was quick to realize the severity of the situation whenever you whipped your head back to look at him with terrified eyes and your hand quickly reaching for your gun.

Luckily you were able to snap yourself out of it before anything terrible became of the situation, but from there on Deacon knew to avoid certain places and worked especially hard on spending a few off days with you to give the rest your mind desperately needed.

Gage:

“God damnit sole, get your head back about ya.”

He’d beat himself to hell and back over it once he realized what was really going on. But..when sole first displayed symptoms of an episode he teased them about it at first, the playfulness fading into annoyance when they refused to leave their home and get their “overboss duties” taken care of for the day.

It was when sole got angry enough to buck up to the raider that he understood exactly what was going on. Well, it was more or less the trembling and tense jaw that gave it away.

“I...I’m sorry.”

Hancock:

“Don’t fret, I’ve gotcha sunshine.”

To be perfectly honest Hancock has seen all kinds of shit being mayor of Goodneighbor so seeing sole absolutely lose their shit at the sound of glass shattering wasn’t a particularly strange ordeal. He didn’t even think to directly link it to an underlying mental illness, no, that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind at the time. The first thing he did was tend to the symptoms of the blatant panic attack, popping a fresh inhaler of jet into his sunshine‘s mouth to calm them down.

Of course after they were calmed he gingerly approached the subject and once they revealed what caused the abrupt panic he gave a solemn smile and nodded in acknowledgement, pulling you into his arms for a loving hug.

Macready:

“Take as much time as you need boss, the caps will still be out there for our taking later.”

He was pretty accustomed to people with ptsd, but seeing his dearest inflicted with him made his heart pang. Either way he understood that even if it wasn’t a flashback or something big, your sudden lack of motivation was also because of the illness. So despite his nature he just laid in bed beside you, occasionally getting up to get food and so, trying to take your mind off of whatever was preoccupying it.

Maxson:

(Totally has ptsd as well)

“It doesn’t make it any better, I know, but I’m here for you.”

He’s grown to suspect every soldier in the brotherhood would eventually develop some form of a stress disorder but that still didn’t prepare him to see his precious sentinel in such disarray and fearful when he approached them overlooking the railing of the airship.

“Sole...” he started with a sigh, his fingers nervously twitching when you didn’t acknowledge his words. “Let’s go back inside.” Was all he could say, eventually just resorting to wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to captain Cade’s office. That night he did his level best to provide you as much comfort as possible, fixing you both a glass of whiskey and snuggling into your side.

Nick Valentine:

“Doll, if this is too close to home it’s alright.”

He should’ve known better than to bring you along a case, a case where a parent was trying to find their missing child. He just knew it wouldn’t be okay. His suspicions were confirmed as you started to feel in horror walking down a familiar path, unwanted thoughts progressively turning into complete flashbacks as Boston’s chilly air seemed to overtake you. Reminding you all over again of the cold tomb you awoke out of. Before you knew what was happening you were sitting on the cold cement curb of some ruined highway with nick close beside you, sharing a cigarette while gazing at the sky. That was the first and only case nick didn’t get to resolve with you since your partnership.

Old Longfellow:

“Alright cap’n, calm down.”

He would of course been around long enough to see a whole rainbow of ptsd related symptoms. Seeing sole’s widened eyes and quickened breath at a seemingly harmless remark of a harbor person, he knew what was up. That being said he isn’t exactly a “let’s hug it out” kind of person so he instead settled for bringing his lover back to their cabin and pouring some drinks. He wouldn’t dare ask what caused that reaction but if sole was apt to speak he’d be happy to listen.

Piper:

“Um blue..you know I don’t expect you to do all of this, right?”

It was quite the unusual symptom of ptsd but no matter what, even if you were sick you just couldn’t stop yourself from going the extra mile in absolutely everything you do for piper. That wasn’t a bad thing per se but..whenever you began to not even sleep more than four hours before waking and wanting go hound for more stories she knew something was terribly wrong.

It took a while to drag it out of you but once she took time to sit and you let the cat out of the bag she was horrified at first but slowly began to understand. So to attempt to remedy your illness she takes special care to remind you that it isn’t necessary to always be doing something for everyone. Self care is key.

Preston:

“General, for once..the settlements can wait.”

He was well aware of your illness the very first time you displayed even a minor trait. So once the nightmares shook you into a hallucinating awareness he embraced you through your vicious yells and even your pained sobs. The next morning when you tried to pretend nothing happened he hugged you once more, taking your gun from your hands before shaking his head.

“Let’s take today off..”

X6-88:

“Sole just breathe.”

Calm and collected was his m.o., no matter what. Be it his programming or just his core personality. That being said he truly did feel concern whenever he saw his normally equally calm love spiral down into a feverish frenzy of anger and confusion. However instead of wasting time he simply teleported back to the institute with you in (embarrassingly enough) literally in his arms, marched up to the doctor and demanded immediate assessment and treatment. Ranks be damned.

#fallout #fo4 companions #fallout companions #hancock #curie #fallout 4 #macready #paladin danse #tw ptsd #sorry if there are any errors i wrote this in a hurry

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: In Bad Waters - part eleven Word count: ±4650 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part eleven summary: Now that Laura if after Zoë, the boys have to think fast in order to save her. Will they realize she’s in trouble? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

Stunned, Sam stares at the door of room seventeen. Dean walks down the hallway with his suit jacket hanging over his shoulder, not having noticed anything unusual. But when he doesn’t hear his brother’s footsteps in his wake, he turns around. “Comin’ or what?” Sam places his hand flat on the door, trying to detect any sign of movement on the other side. He feels like something is off, and shifts his gaze to his brother. “The door just slammed in my face.” “It’s Zoë; what did you expect?” Dean returns, being smart. The younger Winchester isn’t convinced, however, and he pounds on the wooden surface. “Zo?!”

But the huntress doesn’t hear him. She seems isolated, as if the grand hotel room is soundproof. The wall lights flicker, buzzing as they do, the designer lamp in the corner doing the same. Every hair on the back of her neck elevates, both from anticipation and the freezing temperature, which causes her exhaled breaths to float in the air like miniature clouds.

Zoë swallows apprehensively, her gaze frantically darting across the room for anything she can defend herself with, while the disturbing image of Laura stares up at the only living being in the room. The little girl’s neck is clearly broken, her head oddly tilted to the right. Skin so pale it hints to a shade of blue, black bruises noticeable on her arms, legs and cheek as well. Laura glares at her next victim, her eyes hidden in the infinite darkness of her sockets. Water drips on the ground from the edges of her dress and soaked through hair, leaving puddles on the floor. The constant drip mixes with the sound of static from the television and the running water in the shower.

Slowly, Zoë backs out. “You don’t want to do this, Laura.” “Or what? You will kill me?” she returns, way too clever for her age. Little smartass, Zoë can’t help but to think. The huntress is the one who needs to start with the smart talk, though. It might be her only way out of this clusterfuck. She needs to distract the ghost, and pray to the God she doesn’t believe in to make it out of this predicament.

“Why are you doing this?” Zoë asks, as calmly as she can muster. “They didn’t stop it,” Laura says, anger causing her voice to tremble. “They all knew, but they didn’t stop it.” “Why are you haunting me then?”

Carefully, Zoë glances aside from the corner of her eye, at the backpack on top of the drawer. She knows it contains a bag of salt and it might just be her only way of saving herself, or at least stall long enough for her hunting partners to realize something is wrong. She could use a Winchester shotgun right about now. That rock salt shooting two barrel would be handy. Laura’s response triggers her to snap her gaze back at the ghost.

“I’m haunting you, because you are trying to stop me. You didn’t want me to kill Mrs. Dawlson.” Zoë backs out further until she feels the drawer against her spine. While talking, one hand noticeably tries to find the bag of salt in the backpack. “Mrs. Dawlson was a good person, with a family. Now I know how you feel about the person who did this to you--” “- Yes, you do know how I feel. Don’t you, Miss Sullivan?” The spirit turns her head in an abnormal angle, the bones in her neck snapping. “You know how hating someone for what they did to you feels like. That’s why you became what you are.”

Startled, Zoë stares at the little ghost. How the hell does she know all this? Is she playing mind games here? It’s scary how Laura stays so well mannered, and Zoë has trouble looking her in the eye any longer. “I know what your father did to you was cruel and unforgivable, but this isn’t you, Laura. You need to let go,” Zoë tells her. “I can’t. You understand that. You can’t let go either. Someone hurt you, Miss Sullivan. It didn’t just happen, he knew and still didn't help you. Don’t you want to kill him?” Laura pressures. “Oh, I do,” the huntress replies honestly. “But grown ups realize what consequences there are to murder.”

In a blink of an eye, Zoë throws a hand of salt at Laura’s face, which causes her to scream and flicker on and off, but only for a moment. Zoë hastes for the door and turns the doorknob, but Laura still has control over the environment and the barrier between her and the Winchesters stays shut. Sensing her presence, the huntress turns around and sees Laura coming at her rapidly, as if she’s watching a video on fast forward. Right under her nose, the child stops and stares up at her angrily. “That wasn’t very nice,” she hisses.

Suddenly, Zoë feels herself being lifted off the ground, as light as a feather. There is nothing delightful about it, though, because a second later, she smashes into the wall on the other side of the room. “That made me feel angry,” Laura continues, her chin propped down as she gazes at her next victim from under her brow.

Zoë struggles up, but before she can make an attempt to flee, Laura makes a sideways gesture with her hand, sending her victim flying. With a loud bang, she collides with the hard wall on the other side of the suite, the plaster crumbling as she lands on the drawer which breaks through its leg, causing the huntress to glide off the surface and fall down on the floor. Dizzy, she recovers as she feels blood dripping down her cheek, coming from a laceration above her temple. As soon as the black spots disappear from her vision, she glances back up at the disturbing young girl. She points her little finger at her, as Zoë starts to feel an increasing pain in her chest. “Now I’m going to kill you, nice and slow. Just like Daddy killed me,” Laura sing songs eerily. Frightened, Zoë stares at the girl. Before she can blink, the ghost has a death grip on her neck and works her against the wall.

Her efforts to escape have been hopeless so far and with no weapon to defend herself with, the odds are not in her favor. She tries to back out further, but unfortunately she can’t move through walls just yet. It doesn't happen often, but the huntress is in deep trouble. Images of the murder scenes of Laura’s previous victims flash before her eyes; she might end up just like them. In one last desperate attempt to get out of this situation, she closes her eyes, trying to calm herself. In a split second, she pictures Sam Winchester and concentrates. Then she cries out his name.

“SAM!!!”

“Did you hear that?”, Sam asks, alerted on the other side of the door. Dean walks up to him and listens carefully. “Hear what?”

“SAM!!! Get me out!!!”

“There! You heard that, right?” Stunned he stares at the door, then he hits it with his shoulder. “Zoë!!” “I didn’t hear anything. Did you eat mushrooms for lunch or something?” Dean questions, confused. “Dean, you have to trust me! Laura is in there!” Sam cries out.

Without pausing, his younger brother tries to bust the door with a kick, but the lock will not budge. For a split second Dean watches his brother, who keeps going at the varnished wood with everything he’s got. Apparently, he’s not kidding and it puts Dean in hunter mode instantly. It’s not even instinct, more of a reflex. He would follow his brother blindly, he trusts him without a single doubt in his mind. “What is going on here!”, a member of staff shouts at them from the end of the hallway. “Call 911, now!” Dean turns to him and starts running down the corridor. “Where are you going?!” Sam glances aside, out of breath. “I’m gonna try from the outside! Keep going!” Dean commands before he rushes around the corner.

As fast as he can, Dean sprints back to the main hall of the Hampton Inn. While bolting down the stairs to the first floor, he searches for the car keys in his pocket. Very well aware that every second counts, he crosses the lobby towards the parking lot. Quickly, the hunter opens the trunk of his Chevrolet and takes out a shotgun, loading it skillfully. He doesn’t go back inside, instead the hunter runs down the hotel complex, counting the room windows as he passes them.

For once, the universe is helping him, because under Zoë’s suite a van of maintenance crew is parked on the sidewalk. Agile, Dean hoists himself up by the mirror with one hand, climbing onto the roof of the vehicle. Inside, the child ghost has her hands around Zoë’s neck and forces her all the way up to the ceiling, the huntress’ body slack. Laura is about to snap her neck, but then Dean catches her attention. The spirit tilts her head slowly and looks Dean in the eye, then she opens her mouth further than anatomically possible as her eyes sink back in the back of her head.

Knowing no fear for the entity, Dean aims and releases the slug filled with rock salt. It shatters the glass instantly and flies straight through the ghost’s head. As sudden as she appeared, Laura evaporated into thin air with a scream. Zoë collapses down the wall as Sam busts in right at the same time, the vicious spirit no longer locking him out. He stares at his brother through the broken window for a split second and then notices Zoë on the floor, just a heap of fragility. “Zo!” Sam rushes to her and kneels down. Carefully, he cups her face with both hands and taps her on the cheek gently, after which she slowly comes to, coughing. The hunter breathes out, relieved when she opens her eyes. A groan escapes from her lips and she squints as the pain dawns on her. She leans against the wall, out of breath and clearly experiencing discomfort. Blood runs down her neck from a wound on her head, her nose is also bleeding. Several cuts are spread out over her arms and face; she’s a mess.

No wonder, because when Dean steps through the window, he notices that the entire suite is trashed. The table has shattered somewhere during the struggle, glass is scattered everywhere. The couch has toppled over on its back, the TV ripped from the wall and the screen distorted. He crouches down next to the wounded woman, who clamps her hand at her side and takes a careful breath, which obviously hurts her.

“Hey, take it easy.” He puts his hand on her shoulder as she rests her head against the wall again, biting back the pain. “I think I cracked some ribs,” Zoë moans. “What else hurts?” Sam carefully sweeps away her dark hair to reveal the bleeding cut underneath. “The better question is; what doesn’t?” she comments, as she closes her eyes for a second. “That little fucking brat...” “Cursing and angry already. You’re gonna be fine, I see,” Dean jokes, lighting the mood.

Zoë looks up at him, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. He might say so, but she doesn’t feel so good. Carefully she touches her nose, from which blood still drips to her lips and down her chin. “Broke it?” Dean checks. “I don’t think so.” She sniffs. “I swear, if she kills me, I’ll haunt her sorry ass, ten years old or not.” Dean grins at that comment and looks away, but Sam isn’t set at ease yet. “Where’s that ambulance?” he asks his brother. “Ambulance?” Zoë repeats, annoyed. “Yeah, you know. One of those minivans who hurry injured people like you to a hospital,” Dean nags. The huntress glares at him and then turns back at Sam. “I don’t need no ambulance.” “Nope, you’re absolutely fine. You don’t need our help either,” Dean rubs in with a sarcastic tone. “Shut up,” she mutters.

The oldest of the brothers rights himself, smiling victoriously, because for once the huntress doesn’t have a comeback ready. He moves to the doorway to meet the authorities, sirens already blaring in the distance. As soon as Dean is out of sight, Sam cocks his head at Zoë, astonished, his eyes piercingly demanding answers. “I heard you,” he whispers. “I figured,” Zoë responds, carefully removing the blood from her upper lip. “No, I mean...” He pauses and glares over his shoulder to make sure Dean is really gone. “I heard you in my head. How the hell did you do that?”

Zoë glances at the young hunter. It’s clear as day that he’s intimidated by this bizarre turn of events. Honestly, she was just as surprised when she felt Laura’s grip on her loosen. Why she did it? Instinct perhaps. It was her last attempt to connect with anyone outside this room. How she did it? She’s still trying to wrap her head around that one. “I don't know, I just…” She presses her palm against her forehead, this headache is killing her. “That bad, huh?” Sam sighs sympathetically. “Dude, I feel like I’ve been used as a boxing bag.” She pulls back her hand and is unpleasantly surprised by the crimson on her fingertips.

Sam cannot stop worrying, she can see it. Not just about her, but about this telepathic intermezzo they had just a few minutes ago. “It’s probably nothing, Sam. We’re both sensitive to this psychic stuff. It’s no big deal,” she tries to comfort. But the concerns don’t wear off. Not that he can ponder on it for long, though, because a moment later, paramedics rush in.

Some time later, Zoë is uncomfortably sitting in the back of the ambulance. The police have also arrived; several cars are parked on the sidewalk. Officers and forensics are examining the crime scene for traces of the assaulter, which of course, they will never find. The paramedics took care of her head wound and several other minor injuries the huntress suffered. Her face feels like Mohammed Ali himself threw a few punches at her, and to top it all, Detective Lee is standing right in front of her for the third time this day.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything?” Lee checks, after he wrote something down in his notebook. “Not a thing. It attacked me from behind and knocked me unconscious,” she lies, without batting an eye. “It?” The officer looks up at her, a bit indignant by her choice of words. “You know, he, she, whatever,” Zoë mutters, pretending to be casual. Lee watches her for a moment and puts away his notebook. “Off the record,” he starts. “Do we need to put a lot of effort in this case or can I tell my sheriff that the FBI is taking over?”

A little surprised by the new direction of the detective, she looks back up into his eyes, then chuckles. He has a point; right now they are busy questioning each other instead of actually solving the case. They are working the same terrain here and neither of them are helped by that matter. “I’ll spare you some trouble. We’ll take over,” Zoë states. He nods as a sign of agreement, realizing that this is probably for the best. They have no sense of direction on this bizarre case and every lead they do have runs directly towards a dead end. The FBI has more experience with this kind of abnormal. “We’ll be at your service if needed. I hope you’ll catch our killer, this town can’t afford more crimes like these,” the officer ponders. “Neither can I,” Zoë half jokes with a huff, rubbing at the dried up blood on her chin, which is starting to itch. “Good luck,” he wishes her. “We’ll keep in touch.”

Zoë watches him head back for his car as he gestures to his partner to follow him, who was asking Dean some questions. After all, he did demolish a hotel window with a shotgun, but it seems like he’s cutting him some slack. Good for him, because even though she doesn’t like the idea, he did save her ass.

The oldest of the Winchester boys remains standing on the sidewalk. He takes a moment as he looks around. The PPD start to gather their belongings and the first police car leaves the scene. Sam is in the room, looking for leads. Then Dean spots Zoë inside the ambulance and saunters over. “Hate those damn interrogations,” he mumbles as he leans against the left door of the van. “Right there with ya, but they won’t bother us anymore,” she states. “Good riddance,” he comments as he watches the cars leave, then he turns to Zoë, observing her for a moment. “How do you feel?” “I got my ass kicked by a ten year old. How do you think I feel?” she returns snarky.

Dean nods in agreement, being able to imagine that, a smirk adorning his features. “At least you didn’t get killed,” he argues. “You’re the first to survive an attack like that.” “True enough,” Zoë agrees.

Silence follows, the huntress taking the opportunity to take in the guy in his mid twenties. The suit he’s still wearing looks good on him. At first sight you would think he’s comfortable in one, but the loosened tie gives him away. The warmth of midday plus the action, caused beads of sweat to form a trail along his hairline, his skin shimmers. His strong features stand out against the blue sky. With his lips slightly purged, he watches the scene, the sun catching the apple green of his irises. Zoë might not be able to stand the older Winchester brother, but he certainly is handsome.

She isn’t the type of person to apologize, but does realize that his quick thinking saved her life. Strangely enough, that never happened to her before. She never needed to be saved, she was always able to take care of herself. Or is it that there never was anyone there to save her, and she had a little luck with getting out of sticky situations?

“Hey, Dean?” She hesitates. He turns his head to face her, waiting for what she was about to say. “I just wanna say, uh...” she speaks with difficulty. “You kinda saved my ass out there, so--” “Don’t mention it,” he responds before she finishes her sentence.

Dean watches her and smiles slightly when she averts her gaze. Seems like she might start to realize that she can’t always make it on her own. He relieves her from the confronting words, though, he knows it’s difficult to say them out loud.

As the huntress slips off the gurney, she flinches and puts her arm around her side when her ribs ache. Dean tries to make eye contact. “Sure you can hunt like this?” “Of course I can. I had worse,” she snaps, the peaceful moment gone in an instance. Dean shows his hand in innocence, burying the other in his pocket. “Just askin’.”

At that moment, Sam walks up to them, hopefully with some new information. His identification hangs from his neck, so that the police still at the scene know who he pretends to be without asking. “Smart move, Zo,” he compliments, crumbling salt between his finger and thumb. “Where did you find that?” Dean asks, curiously. “On the windowsill. I always salt every entrance of a place where I dare to close my eyes”, Zoë explains before Sam can. “No idea how she got inside in the first place, though.” “She could have come in through the vents,” Sam considers. “I’ll just sleep in a circle of salt next time then,” the huntress mutters. “What did you find?” “Nothing. Same situation as the other three incidents, only you survived.” Sam claims. “I keep wondering, though; how is she able to relocate? I’ve never seen a ghost jump houses like that before, unless they are tied to an object, but you didn’t bring back anything from the crime scene, did you?” Zoë shakes her head. “No, I didn’t. The only explanation I can think of is that she latches onto the person who was there when she manifests, but even that doesn’t add up. “Did Laura say anything?” Dean wonders.

The huntress breaks eye contact with the older Winchester brother. Oh, Laura said something, alright. Something she will not forget anytime soon. Ghosts have the ability to see right through people, sometimes even read their thoughts and memories. The deepest secrets aren’t safe when the afterlife sets in. It scares her that Laura knows about her, about the demon. About John.

“She mentioned something,” she brings up, leaving the personal stuff out. “She kept saying ‘they didn’t stop it’.” “I heard her say that too,” Sam admits. “In your vision?” Dean checks. Sam confirms with a nod and turns back to Zoë. “Did you see anything else?” Sam questions.

The young woman looks away while she ponders. What other details could be of importance? By replaying the moment in her head, she tries to remember every particular detail. “Her hair was drenched,” she recalls with closed eyes. “Water was dripping on the floor. She was wet through.” Both boys frown at that. How does that fit their theories? “That doesn’t make any sense,” Dean comments. “Ghosts look like that when they went for a swim and didn’t come back up, not when they got killed in a beating. Water had nothing to do with her death, she broke her neck.” “I know, another clue of which we have no idea of what the hell it means,” Zoë sighs.

All three fall quiet, trying to figure out what they are missing. Before they can brainstorm further, one of the two paramedics approaches them. The hunters keep their mouths shut when he gets close enough to pick up on any conversation, careful not to talk about the supernatural when unknowing people are around. “Mrs. Evans? I’m afraid we have to take you to the St. Bernards Medical Center in Jonesboro,” he tells her. “What? Why? The AMMC is right around the corner,” Sam jumps in before Zoë refuses to go to any hospital at all. “The ER has been closed down, Sir,” the paramedic answers politely. “For what?” Dean likes to know.

Then two police cars rush by. A bit startled, Zoë glances around the van to see what’s going on, as another car stops. She’s surprised to see that Detective Lee rolls down his window. “Federal agents,” he greets them with a nod. “We have another one at the Medical Center.” Their eyes widen and Zoë’s jaw drops. Another one? How did that happen so fast? Dean is the first to recover from the unexpected news. “We’ll be right there,” he states.

Lee rolls up his window and accelerates. Sirens scream through the street as they drive up the road. The hunters watch the convoy take off, still taken aback. They don’t need a name, they already know who Laura killed. “Hughes,” Dean knows. “Yep,” Zoë sighs and gets on her feet. “Mrs. Evans,” the paramedic objects. “I don’t need to go to hospital. I’m fine, thank you,” Zoë ensures. The first responder insists, however. “I really recommend you to come with us.” “I’ll sign the AMA, thank you,” she returns, her tone stern yet polite. “We’ll take care of her,” Dean backs her up

Sam eyes him, unpleasantly surprised; how could he agree with that? She almost got killed by a ghost, broke her ribs and now she doesn’t even want to be checked out? When he gets a warning glare from both his brother and the huntress when he is about to object, he closes his mouth again. What’s the use anyway. They are both stubborn as hell.

Moments later, the paramedic returns with the Deny Medical Treatment form, which Zoë signs under her false name. Leaving the paramedics behind, she shuffles across the parking lot of the Hampton Inn, reluctantly accepting a supporting shoulder to lean on offered by Sam when he detects she’s still feeling dizzy. “You’re nuts, you know that?” Sam scoffs. “Completely aware,” she answers, this not being the first time someone calls her crazy. “You’re not alright, Zo,” Sam presses. “You’re talking like I’m halfway dead!” she cries out. “Well, you came pretty damn close!” he snaps. “Dude, chill. I know you’re worried about your little girlfriend here, but she has to stay with us,” Dean brings to mind as they reach his Chevrolet. “Excuse me, dickhead, but I’m not little and I’m certainly not his girlfriend,” Zoë corrects, offended.

Before he can respond, Sam also objects. “Why does she have to stay with us?” “Because if she doesn’t, she’ll be alone and Laura will attack her again. We’re not leaving her out of our sight.” Dean opens the door to the backseat of his precious Impala and makes a gesture to Zoë. “Get in.” he orders. “What, in that?” Zoë chuckles as she glares at Dean’s baby inferiorly, letting go of Sam to stand on her own feet. “No thanks, I’ll take the Dave.” “You’re not getting on a bike,” Dean makes clear before she intends to head over to her black roadrunner, irritated by her tone. “It’s not a bike, it’s a Harley Davidson Road King,” she corrects snobby. “If I ride, I ride my Dave, no way you’ll get me in that car.” “That car is a ’67 Chevrolet Impala”, he counters, his face contorting after her insult. How dare she? Zoë pretends the older Winchester brother is non-existent and walks on, while Sam laughs silently as Dean grinds his teeth and watches her leave. “Wipe that damn smile off your face and get in,” the oldest orders his brother.

Sam doesn’t stop smiling, but he does get into the classic as Dean settles in the driver’s seat. Frustrated, Dean starts the engine and roughly drives up to Zoë, then he brings his car to a stop between her and her motorcycle. By this time he has already rolled down his window and now stares up into Zoë’s dark eyes.

“You know just as well as I do that riding that Harley in your condition would be close to suicide. Quit being so fucking stubborn and get in the fucking car!” he commands. They stare at each other, their eyes battling in silence. Huffing in disbelief, she averts her gaze, shaking her head as she attempts to tame her anger. How dare he speak to her like that? “Zo, c’mon. We just want you to be safe,” Sam offers, taking a more gentle approach.

The huntress shifts her focus to the youngest brother, his warm eyes begging her to just get in and stop acting tough. Of course she knows it wouldn’t be an easy ride on her bike and that being driven in a car is far more responsible than riding down the highway herself on a two-wheel vehicle. It’s admitting this to Dean that she detests. Nevertheless, Zoë lets out a sigh, thick with annoyance. Reluctantly, she reaches for the door-latch, but she’s not willing to give in without having the last word. “I thought you said it was a ’67 Chevrolet Impala,” she recalls, using air quotes, as she sits down in the back seat.

Dean rolls his eyes, ignores her comment with difficulty, biting the inside of his cheek to distract himself. As she slams the door, he accelerates. While they exit the parking lot of the Hampton Inn, Dean once again realizes how badly he wants this case to be over, because if Laura does not succeed, he would like to break Zoë’s little neck himself.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read chapter twelve here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural fanfiction #Dean fanfiction #Sam fanfiction #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #SPN #Dean x OFC #Sam x OFC #Dean angst #sam angst #Dark!Supernatural

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elizabethrobertajones · 5 years

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14x08 watching notes

This episode is the Worst I had to lie to my mum when I came downstairs trembling and tear-stained to get a cup of tea to recover, and play it all off as cold symptoms, and now I feel complicit in some sort of deceit with the episode and like Meredith broke the fourth wall through sheer pain.

Good morning, I slept in until seven after they started digging up the road outside at 9pm at night, so I still kinda have a lingering headache from that, but I'm pretty sure Meredith is about to make good on the Dean n Jack murder pact or something else of that level of awfulness so... *deep breath*

YAY it is Lily!! I mean it was pretty obvious from the costuming because wow she's a distinct person but idk maybe some people thought it was her mom?

Anyway getting a recap just of how terribly Jack is doing and then also a reminder of Lily Sunder is just.. Good recap. *kisses fingers*

(*curls up in agony*)

In all the drama I never noticed Rowena being among those who yelled "Jack!" when he went down and to be honest she knew him five minutes and I'm crediting all that panic in her voice to his absolutely ridiculous powers of being the most adoptable creature in the cosmos. You take one look at him and you want to make sure his shoelaces are tied properly and he has a glass of milk.

Anyway he totally caught Rowena off her guard and made her express an Emotion(TM) that was not spite and a good chunk of that is new and improved Rowena of the last year or so, but also just... She bonded HARD :P

Ironically I left the spoon in my coffee in my haste to get up here and start watching so now I will drink it like that and possibly exit the episode also wearing an eye patch

I watched a second and tucked the largest, most comforting stuffed toy this family owns under my arm. Yes, not my personal stash of friends, the family heirloom squishy guy who has been with us through all the worst stuff D:

The framing is Sam sitting at Jack's bedside, Dad no.1 as season 13 firmly established for us, and the dad with the closest traditional relationship of father/son to Jack. Then Cas hovers nearby, struggling to be as close but still Dad no.2 with the ongoing and uncomplicated connection to Jack in the sense that both just sort of accept they're now father and son without any debate or internal wrangling, and that's always been Jack's in with the family and the way he inadvertently got Cas to vouch for him from beyond the grave when he said Castiel was his father and Sam immediately just flipped to Team Jack, not, of course, that he'd not been giving him a huge chance and trying to reach out to him already, but that was his "oh shit this is now my son because Cas is dead" moment.

Finally, Dean fills the foreground, face in shadow, the conflicted Dad no.3 who can't even face his dying son, taking it personally because this is literally the fourth smol child he's taken under his wing who he then lost, from Sam, Ben, Emma, a truly tragic collection of lost children. He resisted adopting Jack because he couldn't be a parent again, not after what Sam put him through as a parent, and yet Jack, the most adoptable boy in the cosmos, eventually wormed his way under Dean's skin too, and by the end of season 13 Dean was acting fatherly towards him and by this season Dean's been opening up the doors and letting Jack be his son. And. Whoops. As SOON as you took him on a hunt for one on one father son bonding time, look what happened.

And so Dean will lurk in the foreground, not looking at Jack, peering moodily into some dark empty box that metaphorically is his soul or his remaining ability to cope with losing children or some such nonsense. The pandora's box of parenthood. He's full on dark romantic hero brooding.

OH NO IT IS A RECORD PLAYER NOT A BOX

I need our family to retroactively adopt a larger, squishier friend to hug in this trying time

Having archived every single one of my watching notes ever between last episode and this episode, I'm more than usually pained by Dean's "not meant to be crap" line because he's been resisting it the entire frikkin time, when Sam kept, even long long long before they knew their real destinies, musing if HIS own personal angst was meant to be and Dean was like don't give me that destiny crap. I swear there's lines about this back in season 2 or 3 when Sam is musing on his powers and the grim lot fate had dealt them. This is a callback line to Dean dealing with his own sense of unravelling control and pure panic about what was happening to Sam, back when that was a thing in the very early seasons and he was having to face the kid he raised from a baby amongst all that tragedy now recklessly declaring all sorts of horrific things about not being able to resist his destiny. Oh, also, in season 2, while under a murder pact from John about killing him if he couldn't save him.

Honestly, it's barely a relationship worth mentioning if you don't have a murder pact going with Dean. Ben is literally the only one of all 4 children AND CLAIRE who hasn't had one with Dean.

If this episode involves Dean bringing any of his records in to play for Jack I'm gonna go out in my pyjamas and take a long walk to the sea and then keep walking once I reach it

Dean you did not walk nearly far enough for Jack to not hear you thump the wall outside his room

PS: totally figured the promo scene was an early emotional beat between Dean and Cas which utterly delights me because the earlier that came in the episode the better as it meant less and less chance it was about anything other than Dean and Cas having an intense relationship over this whole thing.

Jack is the absolute worst about dying. He's this saintly angelic little boy from like, no later than 1900s literature, who exists only to bravely suffer and love with his whole heart. He's snatched out of an era when kids needed morality tales about how to die politely of consumption with the least amount of fuss for their parents and 300 siblings.

How dare you fucking die selflessly. Humanity is at its Bithc This Isn't Fair stage. Throw a fit. Go walk into the sea out of protest.

Okay you're in Kansas I understand how that is an unrelastic option and I grew up spoiled by the immediate location of the sea should I ever need to walk into it.

This show has never made me cry before the title card before.

This is the Pippin and Gandalf scene from Return of the King with the whole Into the West thing that they wrote for a sick fan who died before the movie came out and literally Annie Lennox sings what would be Jack's THEME for this scene.

Sam is horrified that Jack didn't even live long enough for a LotR marathon to explain the reference that's making him bawl.

I LOVE that this scene with Dean n Cas is just about Dean being a wuss about watching his son die because that's so much worse than Jack having asked for a mercy kill or anything. And this all before the title card. Cas tearing Dean a new one about going in and watching your son die smiling beautifully like a little cherub who can't wait to find out what happens next.

Jack's gonna be dead before the title card, isn't he?

Oof.

Hey, Dean, one more reason to hate yourself :) :) :)

Also robbed Cas of watching him go.

But I think tbh they could have done this if Dean wasn't being a coward about watching Jack die that they would leave Sam to sit at this side in the last moment.

Ugh, my eyes are leaking too much to type. What the hell is all this wet stuff coming out of them.

I've never seen a TFW shot where Sam was the shortest but he is slumped over like someone cut all his strings.

"Your brother's in pain" AND WE'RE NOT? YOU'RE NOT? CAS ISN'T?

Dean stopping Cas going after Sam with just a catch of his shoulder... Ugh. The two of them are still connected through all this in a way where Cas and Dean are connected whether Dean's in the most obvious pain or Sam is.

Cas, pls be selfish and in the most obvious pain at some point this episode.

Oh please don't make me watch Dean telling his mom that Jack died

please

I beg you

They put a photo of Kelly next to Jack's bed D: Or has he always had that?

That's not even the photo that Cas had pinned to his board in 12x10 and yes I went and checked, I'm leaking tears too much to watch because Cas is standing over him and this is going to be the worst while Dean's answerphone message lays over the top.

I'm so not here to watch TFW mourn their son.

They had him for like a WEEK this SUCKS.

ALso I said "please don't make me watch" so they cut away to Cas mourning silently while Dean talks to Mary's answerphone because Meredith is an evil fairy who whimsically takes your wishes and twists them into even worse options.

*takes my glasses off and throws them aside angrily when Sam emerges carrying a duffel over his shoulder and wearing the fucking orange jacket he first met Jack in*

God, I don't even wear them for focus, just lack of headaches. Why was I bothering.

7x10 and this episode are probably going to be unholy companions in this show's canon

"She's come down with acute Tear Duct Blockage. The only option is head amputation or we make her cry, NOW" "Don't worry, I have just the thing."

Dean this answerphone message huuuurts

Also explains the Buckleming issue of not calling Mary, to just say, yeah, it escalated, rapidly.

Your brother is storming off and Cas is broken.

If I have to see Cas see a set of PB&J crusts and a glass of milk identical to what Dean saw in 9x10 I'm - well, I'm still here instead of walking off into the sea so my threats are starting to look a bit performative. BUT I'M THINKING IT.

Cas watches Sam go, while Dean is being dwarfed by the bunker and obfuscated by its maze of corridors.

*presses my hands over my eyeballs* STOP. STOP IT. GOD. You're not even sobbing or anything you're just lEAKING. This is so annoying! I'm gonna dehydrate and they'll find a shrivelled skellington here and I'll go with just a few quiet sniffs and a dumb smile on my face like fucking Jack did.

Now I'm just distraught about the first time ever in canon we see Cas drive, it's in his dumb blue car and Dean's broken and not up for driving even if Sam presumably hadn't stolen the car for his errand/driving until he finds the sea and walking off into it mission. All my myriad fantasies about Cas behind the wheel of the impala and Dean grinning at him like yeah that's my baby (which one is he talking about?), and nope we're getting Cas's little partymobile and Dean's mute expression of grief.

NEVER MIND THEY SHOWED ME SAM CURLED UP ON THE GROUND USING THE IMPALA AS A BELOVED FAMILY HEIRLOOM TO HUG AND I SOBBED OUT LOUD FUCK YOU MEREDITH FUCK YOU

I need the tissues why were they not here in preparation for this episode

I need to avoid my mum all day on the ground of spoilers because my face is a walking spoiler

"TELL ME YOU DIDN'T MAKE A DEAL" "wha- no, I'm trying to make a pyre"

Making a pyre doesn't usually involve curling up on the floor.

Cas is getting an accidental glimpse of 13x01's emotional landscape, not that anyone will tell him this was what it was like for Dean, that we now have Sam in the spot of. We're getting some mirror image missing moments, like we just saw Dean get the axe out but did see him begging God... in this one we see Sam go take it out on a tree.

Incidentally I re-read all of Terrible Coffee AU two days ago for Reasons and the scene where Sam is whaling on a tree while screaming into the sky is pretty much this. Which is fucking hilarious that 2 years ago I decided Sam taking out his feelings on the local trees was a Thing when he was depressed.

(I wrote that scene the day Eileen was murdered on the show and honestly at the time he was mostly just angry on canon!Sam's behalf and I figured I'd come up with plot reasons later.)

Oh, they weren't driving the party!mobile, they were driving something else. I'm not even gonna ask where they get these vehicles

Yeah I'm harping on Dabb vs cars because Cas is talking about Jack's story ending like this and certainty of death for angels and this is just... the worst.

the story line - Cas deciding how their stories go. Dean resisting the how it's supposed to be of Jack's death. TFW want to take the narrative into their own hands. We KNOW in this world deaths are stored in notebooks, potential ways to pass that you skate past until one claims you. They're free to write their own stories but the ending is always pre-written for them... It's just a matter of which one. But Cas especially... Jack was supposed to bring paradise, and maybe the emotional landscape between season 12 and 14 is a gulf of difference in their openness and bonds, largely facilitated by Jack's presence in the narrative and relentless open love for everyone who was nice to him and even those who weren't in Dean's case. He breezed through their lives, manic pixie dream girl'd them to emotional health, and mayfly'd out. But that's THEIR stories. That's not JACK's story. That's not the epic destiny something as cosmically powerful as him was due, and the potential he was shown to have... It abruptly gets into the territory of Dany having her whole Stallion That Mounts the World prophecy for the son she lost... I've not watched the TV show since it diverged so wildly I couldn't hack it any more, but the books with everyone wondering if, like, Jon Snow was this guy instead, etc, picking this that and the other guy... what if Dany's lost child WAS the only one it applied to and the prophecy just fizzled out? ASoIaF looms over Jack's narrative... He's literally been framed against an Iron Throne in the past, and his character arc for parts of season 13 was a sort of anti-Joffrey in many ways. And then in death, GRRM's unromantic look at fairytales and heroic narratives comes for him too, that maybe it doesn't always happen like the stories say...

... but of course, he also has LotR coding, and in THAT regard, Sam Gamgee has his good old speech about the heroes in the stories and how we relate to them and are inspired by them and become them. The stories that matter. And Jack's was supposed to be one of those. In a way, their lives have been so epic that Jack mostly having a personal impact rather than a cosmic one seems wrong to them. That he didn't become the great hero of his own story, but was a tragic hero who ran a dramatic but personal arc and burned out because his asshole father killed him and his asshole uncle presumably finished him off with an experiment in grace transfusion. At least if my dashboard is to be believed :P It's inconcievable to TFW, the "making it up as we go" people who tore up the script and threw away the pages, that they can't just make this happen or that Jack didn't serve some great purpose. Even men as weary of Destiny as they are, struggle. Just because that was their lives, so how could the son of all three of them not follow in all his fathers' footsteps?

"Jack being taken before his time... Being taken before *me*" Cas shut the fuck up.

But that is the speech from Theoden, and once again Sam is Gandalf, which is fucking hilarious that Sam's been Gandalf TWICE this episode.

Ever it's grown on the tombs of my forebears...

you have four bears???

God dammit that joke didn't stop me crying as they go knock their glasses together and hold Jack's lil 3 dads wake

3 Dads Wake is a great name for a whiskey

God, Cas is drinking.

CAS.

They need to give him like one bottle to every finger of whiskey they drink but dammit if they don't get Cas loaded.

Letting them talk privately about how aweomse Jack was and not letting us hear it is a crime

Listen you don't even know me if you didn't think as soon as the nougat appeared on screen I didn't hit pause and sob for a whole minute with my hands over my face

Officially worse than bobby and the goddamn licorice conversation

Cas laughing with caramel hanging out of his mouth is the worst thing the sho whas ever done and I'm suing for emotional damage

Imagine being one of the bitter stans who hates one or more of TFW or Jack right now watching this scene. God, are you even human. They're eating Jack's secret nougat stash they all pretended they didn't know he had.

I can't believe I'm now thinking that Lily showing up will probably be a lighthearted way to bring up the mood of the episode.

Cas is offficially wobbly! We have Cas tipsyness!!

Sam tapping out first. Oh no. Don't leave. Don't.

Fuck you Sam Winchester how dare you canonically be the most lightweight of TFW consistently for the entire show and need to go crash off the side of your bed and sleep on the floor while Dean n Cas are still drinking together.

Did Dean seriously outdrink Cas.

Well that's... something.

I am gonna cling to that like a rock in the churning sea I have walked out into.

Also I managed to calm myself down with walking around my room taking deep breaths so I could go downstairs pretending not to be a wreck, so I could get tea, and my mum made me finish the sudoku for her. I don't have the heart to show her this episode. She loves Jack more than anyone in this god damn fandom and maybe more than Cas does. Maybe I'll lie to her and say the show ended last episode and Jack was fine hahahahaaaa

OH FUCK I hit play and there was a single line of dialogue for the whole wake. Dean drunkenly slurring to Cas, I think, you know we did everything we could, right?

I'm...

*walks further out into the ocean*

"Here's to you Jack, wherever you are" I am not okay.

Oh fork you Meredith we did not need to see the boy in Heaven eating burgers.

Oh fork you Meredith we did not need to see the boy in Heaven eating burgers while on a case with all of his dads.

OH SON OF A BENCH THIS IS THE DODGE CITY CASE AKA 13x06 MEREDITH YOU DINK.

Oh dear, Heaven is broken. Who was the ashhole who was saying that Jack should die so that he can go to Heaven so he's well-placed to help deal with all this nonsense.

LOL Jack would be the sort of person who goes to Heaven and doesn't need more than a second of prompting to be like oh wait I am dead and in Heaven, and just, like... Go open the door. Just pop his head out like cooee I wanna hang with my dads anyone here to replace the bulb in the sun so I can carry on hanging out here for eternity?

Like, seriously, I'm dead, this is when I am supposed to catch a break.

Let The Boy Say Fork.

Listen, secondary to his power to be adopted by everyone on sight, Jack is uncanny also with just walking into trouble.

And to try and be clam for a moment, this is Jack getting pulled back into the story, but not just by unfortunate happenstance, because he was the one with the sharpness, the cosmic awareness even on this level that Heaven just doesn't quiiiiite work for him in the way it's supposed to even if say it was at full power, that he is the one who voluntarily not just understands instantly that something is wrong, but then is fully snapped back to his old self, and chooses to open the door, and that is the moment of choosing to continue his story, at least for now.

It's like how the last time we saw Bobby chronologically was in Inside Man and Cas and Sam woke him from his repose and got the fighting spirit back into him enough to open his own door and rejoin the story for one last hurrah... And it was a choice there too, a moment of once more telling the natural order to screw itself, Bobby could step outside the proscribed ending of his narrative one last time.

Unless Jack finds him and is adopted on sight today.

Sam looks way too healthy.

Invigorated by having a Plan

Lils. Finally getting to see the Bunker filled with all her stolen research notes.

And no that wasn't canon before, but boy am I hoping she recognises her research amongst all the bunker's angel lore.

Men stealing fuckin everything

"We've never looked through Kevin's angel tablet translations"

HAVEN'T WE?

WE HAVEN'T

THEY HAVE BEEN THERE

FIVE

FUCKING

YEARS

And every forking time something comes up where they might be useful I say, HEY WHAT ABOUT KEVIN'S ANGEL TABLET TRANSLATIONS?

and the show says

hey so we don't have the angel tablet but we do have the demon tablet

and I'm like I'm sure that won't have any dumb side effects that could be avoided by having the angel tablet translation just on hand in your archive

did Meredith hear me screeching

because I screeched very very loud after 13x14

13x13 sorry

that was Bucklemming handing her the wrong fucking tablet

this is bitter vindication but feels even better than her and Bobo remembering the grace extracting needle in 12x19

Glynn is a fucking gift.

On the other hand this episode now is pulling on 9x06 and 12x10 at once and that makes me feel woozy

I can't deal with a Glockeybo combo

Also waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah Kevin's handwriting. I can't deal with that AND Bobby memories AND FUCKING NOUGAT DEATH

Which I mean I do feel instantly better about once he opened the door and let himself back into the story and I stopped crying at once and cheered up and Lily is indeed providing much needed relief, wild as that all sounds.

Lily trying to explain her soul magic to Sam and Dean, rubes who haven't done a single enochian calculation in their lives.

Wait, no, Sam has done one, in ... 12x19 ...

But yeah, a rube and a completely self-taught asshole who knows like one thing about it.

And she's like oh yeah just use his soul and they're like AAH WTF LILY and she's like er this is the most obvious thing in the world what is the problem here

where are my cas reaction shots

Jack wearing an eyepatch for the rest of the show would be adorable and hilarious

"it won't cost much... he'll never miss it" trust me his soul is enormous and boated with sweet nougat love, he can spare it, guys.

Dean being able to say "Jack's dead" one day later, when he couldn't say it about Cas practically until he was BACK

Nice trade. TECHNICALLY nothing dodgy about it at all, at least in the sense that aside from resurrection consent issues from Jack, once he's back the choice is still on him to choose to grow old and die as Lily has done, or even to stop using the magic to sustain himself and die again immediately if he is squicked out by it... Or it all comes from trading on his OWN soul power.

Definitely better than demon deals or having any favours looming over them etc

And with Heaven in the state it's in, honestly sending Lily there might be easier than they think if NO ONE IS LEFT TO RUN IT.

Er, imminent ghostpocalypse issues aside.

We're in ghostpocalypse territory as of a minute ago show time, btw.

Cas has quietly observed all this chatter and we get back to him when he says, "Don't you think Jack should decide for himself" so honestly Cas is right there with me, and I always like when me and Cas are the ones agreeing on a thing in the episode.

Obligatory reminder that Sam is more aware than most about soul stuff

*takes another piece of coal off the pile I was going to send Meredith for ruining christmas*

HEY, ANUBIS.

Don't tell him about what they did to Osiris

Unless that would amuse him

Wait never mind Meredith is literally throwing in amusing snark about 7x04 which I think when Adam Glass disowned that episode (despite how I actually think it's really good and he was too hard on it) he never expected anyone would ever want to throw in amused references about it in canon ever again.

"When God left - sorry, long story - " Lily is one of the few people who seems able to conceptually roll with the nonsense TFW deals in all day.

She should join the squad. Always room for a 100 year old badass with deep enochian lore knowledge.

I'm sorry has Jack crashed Kelly's heaven or is this a rando little girl. I immediately thought she was Kelly in the long shot and they substituted a lil girl for POV when we got closer and actually had to go back and look again and she was the little girl all along.

This also conceptually looks so much like Cas's eternal tuesday afternoon.. A rainy, flower-filled garden.

Roosevelt looks SO much like the doggie in 11x20 aside from anything else

IT IS KELLY

This is horrifying since they never ever got to meet ever until now and I'm suing Meredith

I mean I'm already suing her but I'm just adding this to the list of complaints. My laywers are working overtime on this episode.

FORK!! THEY GOT HER BACK FROM LEGENDS OF TOMORROW FOR A DAY!!!!

Can Kelly and Jack go on a rampage around Heaven to fix things?

Her hair is suspiciously darker from the back which I think is her Legends look from the gifs I've seen

Wait, Bobby had a forking dog called Rumsfeld, and Kelly has Roosevelt.

"Hi mom you're dead"

".......................................................... NOooOoOooooOOoo No no no baby no"

Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean resisting the spell and complainging "gotta happen, no other way" is making me feel like the Heaven Drama is going to smack them right before they can get it all done and give them a LOT MORE to worry about than Jack but also give them a roundabout way to see him again and also, of course, mean Lily might be useful for an entirely other purpose while she's here...

Dean right now is rationalising this through the lens of that all their terrible deals have been terrible and that this is just one more step on the Winchester life and death merry-go-round, and of course that Jack is about to get the full family treatment he deserves. But that's the Winchester lens of looking at things that even when deaths are brutal and lives cut unfairly short, there's going to be a way to bring them back if they haven't finished their stories. John finished his, in 2x22 seeing Dean get the revenge he needed to be at peace, but everyone else...

Is it ethically right to put Jack on that merry-go-round when he smiled sweetly and died with as much enthusiasm as he gave pretty much everything in his life?

The table lamps are out in the bunker D: them being dark is so ominous

And Cas shows up like shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit something worse going on guys

They're so casual about just summoning gods into their front room these days

Of course they're doing it in the spot in front of the door with the war room behind in one direction... The opposite end of the library to where they opened the rift.

Sam picks his way through the wet paint but Dean stands right in the centre of this circle for SUMMONING THE GOD WHO DECIDES WHO LIVES AND DIES AND WHERE THEY GO to have this lil chat with Lil?

And now Dean steps out of it and corners her with the obvious question - what's wrong with your magic and why are you risking going to Hell to stop using it entirely?

I'm so sorry you have to look at more dead angels, Cas

I'm also so sorry they were killed by black slime because wow after season 7 that was a laugh and a half for you

... Can you swear in the hallways of Heaven?

DUMA LIVES

(probably "for now" though hopefully longer than that)

Ma'am are you aware you have a Nougat on the loose too

I'd love it if Cas is like hi what's happening also have you seen my son

This actress needs to come back for a 3rd time to follow Dean around in a crisis moment.

OH NO now Cas is coming to the heaven memory and seeing what Jack considered his best memory

YEAH. I knew Naomi would show up, I just didn't know when :D

(She wasn't in the credits as far as I could tell but I already sort of knew they were leaving people off? Or maybe I was thinking lol I bet Amanda Tapping is in this episode and they won't tell us... On the other hand she mAY have been in the credits but I was WEEPING MY EYES OUT so didn't clock her despite my efforts to hold myself together and see who was coming up on screen)

Naomi doesn't have the most dramatic entrance on the show but she sure is racking up points for good entrances one at a time each time she appears. She never just, like... toddles onto screen normally.

"Perhaps the angel side of him knew he was in Heaven" honestly the most tragic thing I was trying not to think about is that he knew the entire time but he was willing to play along and enjoy hanging with his dads for eternity despite that.

Oh man it's another dispute over who owns Jack. Is this kid never going to be allowed to just sit and eat burgers and nougat? (Hopefully not at the same time)

Also based on last episode where it seemed like the Empty was awakening but had Lucifer's eyes and we were all NOOO fork that!! is there some more complicated forked up aspect to what's going on or is it just itself and awake and coming for Jack?

I love how Naomi just casually knows how many people are in Heaven

"What's one nephilim boy against all that?" "But he's MY nephilim boy!!"

OH NO NAOMI

NOT LIKE THIIIIIS

We better get an answer on her state by the end of the episode because she's my fave villain bar Metatron on the entire show and devouring her in shadow is just... yikes.

"give it a sec" *POOF* Anubis is prompt, okay.

He probably honestly is somewhat slighted that they're 14 years into their career and he hasn't clapped eyes on them.

"Yeah, we've died." "A LOT."

I honestly, at this point, do not blame them for their lax attitude towards the permanence of death. They need a lot of counselling they're not getting and until they do they really are going to always be terrible at this.

A brief moment where Anubis is like, am I going to get Flirty Banter with Dean Winchester?? and he looks at him and Dean's eyes are all dead and "my son is dead" and Anubis sighs like welp not today oh well better luck next time, if I survive this...

Getting flirty banter with Dean is a sign of high honour and takes you to some very interesting places.

Into Dean if you stick with it like Crowley did

And Lily's been standing there this whole time like wow these boys suck up all the attention in the room and I kinda hate them

Oh I LOVE this abacus. Is this some nerdy ass research that meredith did to know better than most what to expect here? Even I haven't heard this one, though I haven't really revisited Egypt lore after the expected Egyptology phase as a kid...

Anyway the half white half black beads are super interesting in a wider show symbolism way.

Oh deeear, Lily.

Of course that instantly makes you fascinated about what would happen if TFW stuck their hands over it.

What a good line on the show's philosophy about making your own fate - it's not destiny or a choice from above or anything like that. Your individual actions get you sent to Heaven or Hell in the natural course of things and it's weighed in such a way all he can do is use his equipment to read which way you're going... Everything else is down to you. Free Will, write your own story.

Of course, if Lily did some huge sacrifice I bet she could change things.

CAS LAUGHED

ugh this episode should be banned.

If you hug Kelly I'm rioting.

Everyone who ever hugs Cas slaps their hands firmly on Misha's broad shoulders like it's law and digs in and I don't know if it's because Cas has this wonderful presence about him that even when you're around Misha acting him in the moment you get swept up in it, or you just want to hug Misha like that, but Cas hugs look like the most amazing hugs in the universe and everyone just GOES for it.

Also I am typing this nonsense because I literally used up my box of tissues earlier and the next option is stealing a roll of toilet paper. So I will snark and try and ward off the sobbing.

"I'm so sorry. I failed you." Kelly, who has spent about 5 minutes in Jack's presence and understands his nature even beyond her blind faith in him from before but now gets to see the evidence of it: "You didn't. You didn't."

Yes, please can more characters tell Cas that he did a good job even when things don't quite go to plan. Dean's drunken slurring about how they did the best they could, this...

Kelly tells Cas how wonderful Jack is like Cas doesn't know and Cas breaks up.

And you know what this looks like and I'm not going to survive typing this and can already feel my eyeballs filling up with water... 10x20 and Jimmy and Amelia talking about Claire at the end of the episode oh god I hate it take it away from me.

Oh good Cas telling Jack we need you alive to fix Heaven but just in a passive way where you not being dead means the Empty backs the fuck off rather than you having to DO anything

Ooops the Empty is here as Dumas. I suspect she's not surviving this episode but MAYBE Naomi survives.

I am saying with full wishful thinking after seeing her completely consumed by black goo

I do like the concept of "THERE ARE MAJOR STAKES TO RESURRECT THE BOY. BRING HIM BACK THIS INSTANT. LITERALLY SAVE THE UNIVERSE BY BRINGING THE NOUGAT SON BACK TO EARTH." because that makes it so much different from "hey bring me back and maybe accidentally unleash some terrible evil in the process but we'll deal with it later because that's what we do"

"HE'S OUR KID" Sam snaps

I hate it, thanks

For the love of god appeal to her more as a fellow parent.

Dean DIRECTLY EQUATES Jack and May

Hold me

Equating no soul to not being human in front of Sam aka our no soul test case. Owie. Another reminder of just how hard Dean took it in season 6 until he got Sam back, all that skin crawling feeling of being around him...

You know what? Jack reminds me of the sort of example nice ensoulled Sam stuff we saw in 6x12 when Jared was allowed to play over the top sweet and uncomplicted for a few scenes, just to be a total contrast to how he'd been acting thus far in the season. Of course, we saw him for like 3 scenes of Dean smiling in pure relief when Sam did Nice Things before it all got complicated again, and Jack's been a long-time character :P But Sam does have a sweet street that when it emerges in the rare times it can be uncomplicated, is I think the closest equivalent to where Jack's innocent sweetness is drawn from. He's the son of Sam's puppy dog eyes specifically.

But yeah I think Lily just needs to have this resistance and anger about it all to make it so much more of a flip if she were to decide to do the spell, so that it counts as an even gooder good deed to MAYBE flip her chances. By giving her a good work to do.

And hey maybe if she meets Jack for a minute she'll love him and then be changed by the experience and go out and do more good things etc etc.

DUMAS IS SO GOOD AT BEING CREEPY!!

Misha hammed the FORK out of being the Empty and now she has to live up to it and she IS.

CAS don't fight the Empty by trying to stab it, fight the Empty by humming this is the song that never ends.

*makes a disgruntled sad noise about being forced to see Jack laid out on a table in his cute lil PJs with his cute lil socks*

Wait, if Lily does this spell does this mean she's using up the last of her soul to do it and going to the Empty anyway?

ANGRY LIONESS KELLY COMING TO YELL AT THE EMPTY AND GIVE IT A PIECE OF HER MIND

I've just paused after her yelling "STOP" but whatever happens next, she leaped in when Cas was getting kicked around and that's BAD ASS.

Hitting Kelly is like... probably a rage button Jack didn't even know he had so I would like to see how that goes over, but we cut to them trying to resurrect him.

I forking love how this is 2 seasons in a row where the message seems to be that you live to spite nihilism and the bitter end of death.

D'aw even though Sam said they'd pray it was Dean who used prayer to reach out to Cas in Heaven to give him that heads up. Like, totally practical rather than the sort of prayer he's made before to Cas that was all emotional appeal, but, let's save our son, huh?

CAS NO DON'T SAY THAT

The Empty might also really want to think about that because it knows you forking suck to keep around so trading yourself for Jack is like... really? do I really want that? :P

"Not for years. EONS, MAYBE." Cas, bud. I love you. I want you to stay alive that long. Do you really forking think that with the life you lead you have eons left? I mean it's really heartening to hear you talk about yourself this way. But I have to ask.

The Empty telling Cas that it'll come for him when he finally lets himself be happy is forking hilarious. Cas hasn't been happy once in his life and he doesn't plan to start now. Eons, maybe.

Just like that, he's unlocked eternal, grumpy life. Take notes, Lily.

I mean on a practical level this is basically like, yeah, this is why Destiel isn't canon, because as soon as Cas allows himself to be happy, he's ALWAYS known he gets punished for it. In 4x20 he rebelled for Dean and was instantly dragged back by Naomi... This sense of another mission, never belonging, always being on the outside and not getting the emotional resolution he needs, and actively running from it at times or throwing himself in the way of danger to make Dean be happy without him... it's interesting honestly that the Empty is here as Duma and not Naomi as she's been the agent of hoiking him back from happiness enough times in canon... And that fear of losing everything as soon as you're happy? That's what first kept Dean from Jack and then as soon as he really truly fathered Jack, happened to him. Like, that's Team Free Will's entire life story, starting with Jess, to date, here with the Empty making this threat.

Duma survived!!

Cas... really could have just bought a few minutes to do the spell rather than given himself that burden >.>

But he's determined to make a more lasting sacrifice, one that ensures this won't happen again with Jack, that he can always die whenever he wants and go to Heaven and not be bothered here.

Oops Jack's angry now. Now he's seen a dad sacrifice for him, he's suddenly got a case of the Winchester Angsts. Dean in season 2, for starters. Not a good place to be D: Dean in season 2 is proportionately his worst season.

I'm not crying because I think I already died earlier in the episode, but that was... truly awful... to watch Cas tell Jack he's at peace with it and he loves him and everyone loves him and then Kelly butts in like I LOVE YOU TOO and mom him a bit with straightening his jacket and hugging him and... UGH.

Lily has either the start of a heart attack or loses her soul entirely in the background and wanders into a corner to die? Er.

OH HEY WE ALSO MANAGED TO GET THE WORST DEAN HUG SINCE 2x22 WHEN HE GRABS JACK. NEVER SEEN HIM HUG LIKE THAT BEFORE, DON'T WANT TO SEE IT AGAIN THANKS

Nope, she just dieded.

Let's hope she went to heaven and we get a super corny young Lily surprise Alicia Witt return moment at the end since this episode is just throwing everything at it.

It's Anubis' office!!!

Wow, that's a noisy annoying place to work

Still, I LOVE these visualisations of where the cosmic forces of the universe work

I called it super corny but I'm DYING to see Lily's fate change.

"Say hello to your daughter for me" DOn't make me cry about Lily please I beg you I am run dry

OH THANK GOD NAOMI SURVIVED. Hooooooraaaaay!!!!!!! Oh this is a wonderful ending to a perfect episode to not have to deal with her having being consumed and left dead off-screen somewhere.

LOL that slam as he realises what's up and even though she obviously can do what she wants, he's still protectively closing Kelly's door to put a barrier between her and Naomi.

"I'm here to thank you"

Oldest trope in the book, but I love when they look over their shoulder to see if "you" is someone else, and Cas, unflappable Cas, in Naomi's presence, still checks the infinite empty corridor.

*double checks*

"...... you're welcome?"

Wheee unlocked new plot for altrusim!

Ahahaaaahaaaaaaaaa Jack wrapped in a fluffy grey robe. Listen. I am

not

okay.

Jack with his burger and Dean's dead guy robe, spitefully living...

I bet Dean made the burger

WHY did I type that when I knew how likely it was to make my eyes burn.

I did not cry at the last scene of them all at the table so I am going to eat extra cookies at lunch as a reward.

And Jack and Cas sharing a little glance, knowing what Cas did. Father and Son's first dire family secret! :')

And gently roll the camera away to credits to leave them to their happy little scene.

Presumably with a slow fade so you can fumble for some more tissues.

Gyah.

#14x08 #season 14 spoilers #I am angry about how in the last 3 seasons multiple episodes have wandered around like hi I am the new best episode of the series #make up your MIND #remember when Baby felt weird like it was the first in years that had smashed the season 5 barrier of where all the Best Episodes were #and like aside from 6x11 and 7x10 we'd long passed the episodes that were utter stand outs in their field?#and now you have a like 50:50 gamble you're just going to walk into the Best Episode of the Show #it's fucking annoying #my stuff

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 6 years

Text

Leave Me Breathless

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 8x15!

Summary: After a fight to the death, Negan decides to take out his leftover adrenaline on an innocent bystander...and that innocent bystander is you.

Characters: Negan x female reader

Words: 4,008

Author’s Note: Soooo I couldn’t get THIS idea out of my head, and I decided to try my hand at it. I was a bit shocked at myself, to find that this immediately went darker and dirtier than I had originally planned, but I’m pretty proud of it, even the parts that aren’t just smut. Here’s hoping y’all enjoy the ride ;)

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

Warnings: explicit smut, dubious consent, dominance/submission, fear kink, breath play/choking, knife kink, degradation/humiliation, a tiny moment of daddy kink, fluid play, death scene at the beginning, explicit language

Don’t say I didn’t warn ya ;)

Gif Credit goes to @hughxjackman

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You watched in silent horror, along with the rest of the Sanctuary, as two men tussled in the middle of the large room. They hit into each other with a low thud, like two battering rams colliding. You gave a low gasp when the taller man decked your leader in the face, sending him spinning. He was only deterred for a moment, as he straightened himself and hauled off a punch of his own, fist connecting with his opponent’s chin with a loud crack.

The two of them were growling and yelling like deranged beasts, a loud juxtaposition to the silent and still onlookers. You were in the front row, getting an up close and personal view of the testosterone-filled battle. You knew that this couldn’t end well...that only one of them would walk away as champion...only one would walk away alive. And yet, just like when one sees a car pile-up or a house on fire, you were unable to look away. You all stood silently and watched with bated breath, no one willing to make a noise or sudden movement that might draw the attention of the two men.

The large Savior, Simon, was thick and muscled, and had started out with the upper hand when he threw the first punch without warning. However, Negan was lean and quick, and he had pure rage on his side. His eyes almost glowed with the fire of vengeance, as the desire to punish Simon for his insurrection pulsed through his body and fueled his brutal movements. When he threw Simon to the cement floor and climbed astride him, hands at his throat, you lifted your own hand to cover your mouth, eyes wide as saucers as you watched his fingers tighten on the larger man’s windpipe. Spittle flew from his mouth, as Negan furiously accused Simon of being disloyal, his hands never wavering from the other man’s throat. You weren’t fully able to register what he was saying, your head full of a loud buzzing noise, as disbelief and morbid fascination caused goosebumps to erupt across your flesh.

You had never thought about what death would sound like. Sure, you’d seen plenty of walkers, even seen plenty of dead bodies...mangled bodies...bloated and deformed bodies. But you’d never actually seen the life leave someone, never considered that it would have a sound.

That sound was the crunch of a windpipe collapsing, the sigh of a final breath being squeezed between now-still lips. It was followed by the sneer of victory, of heavy boots thumping against concrete as the victor regained his feet, a muttered growl of “asshole” leaving his lips and echoing around the large space.

Coolness trickled down your cheek, and you realized that it was from the trail of a tear. That you were still standing there in shock, along with the others, waiting for orders. How did one react, after a display such as that? Did you applaud? Drop to your knees? Silently pray you weren’t next?

As if he could hear the whir of thoughts racing through your head, hazel eyes lifted and locked onto yours from a distance of mere feet. They took in your hand-covered mouth, the shock and the fear, and maybe even a touch of awe, that coated your face. They trailed down and took in your form, encased in snug jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers that had seen more than their fair share of miles. Something flickered in that gaze, as if a decision had been made, and he stepped in your direction.

You felt a rush of air, as those on your left and right scooted over, as whoever was behind you backed up. The hunter had sighted his prey, and the others parted like the Red Sea, willing to sacrifice you if it meant that they were safe from his grasp.

Calloused fingers wrapped around the wrist at your face, warm and unresisting. He started for the exit, practically dragging you behind him, feet fumbling as you tried to figure out how to walk with legs that had been reduced to the consistency of Jell-O. You glanced around at the mass of faces watching blankly, some with eyes trained on the floor, not one of them willing to raise a muscle or even shift in your direction. You walked past Arat, who was standing next to the doorway leading out of the vast room. Her eyes connected with yours for an extended moment, and she gave an imperceptible nod. Whether or not it was meant to be a reassurance or a warning, you had no clue.

Head dizzy with fear and uncertainty, you struggled to keep up with Negan’s fast pace, as he pulled you down the nearest hallway. He hesitated at the first open door on the right, before seeming to make up his mind that this space would do. He jerked you in front of him and through the doorway, pushing you into the middle of the room, which was dark and smelled faintly of bleach.

A soft click followed by overhead brightness signaled that he had found the light switch. Squinting until your eyes adjusted, you realized that you were in a single stall bathroom.

Alone.

With Negan.

And he had just closed and locked the door.

Backing up a step towards the sink, dry lips struggled to form words, to say something, anything, oh god why did he bring you here?!

Your dazed brain focused on random little details, such as the fresh blood that trailed into his eyebrow from a cut on his forehead. The dark bruises beginning to form on both cheeks, where he had been hit. The masculine hair sprinkled along the back of his left hand, juxtaposed with the smooth leather covering his right. Hands that had, mere minutes ago, crushed the life out of another man. An involuntary shudder ran up your spine at the thought, and he saw it, eyes lasered in on you, not missing a single detail of your reaction to him.

His top lip curled up into a snarl, a morbid attempt at his usual arrogant smirk. Rather than appearing charming, he just looked deadly, like a wild animal. He started across the small space, stalking towards you so that you backed up further into the corner, until you hit cold porcelain and had nowhere else to go. The sink jutted into your lower back, as he stopped directly in front of you, his presence automatically causing you to lean away from him until your back was contorted into a C-shape.

He still didn’t say a word, but his breathing was heavy, jaw clenched, and you were fairly confident that, in this moment, he was more than a bit unhinged. You weren’t sure if he wanted to fuck you or kill you, and the possibilities flaring in his demon-bright eyes made you tremble like a caught hare in front of a hungry wolf.

A wolf that had just committed cold-blooded murder, fangs still dripping with the fresh blood, and was now trying to decide if you would be his next victim.

You were terrified, fear like a cold bullet down your spine. However, deep in the pit of your stomach, there was also a little spark of recognition that flared to life. Whether it was a survival instinct, telling you to submit in order to avoid further harm, or whether it was true desire that had been festering in his direction for longer than you cared to admit, you weren’t sure. Hell, maybe it was both.

All you knew was that, when he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck and jerked you up against him, your body went slack and willing. Lips collided hard enough to bruise, as he used his height and strength and masculinity to showcase his dominance over you.

When his tongue thrust past your open lips, you tasted the faint tinge of blood, sharp and metallic, and weren’t sure if it was his or yours. His body crowded into you, hips pressing your back painfully into the sink, chest looming above yours, causing you to be so off balance that the only logical option was to cling to his shoulders. Or, at least, you’d later tell yourself it had been the only option...not that you had just wanted to.

You gasped in aroused surprise when he jerked your shirt up to your armpits, then ripped the cups of your bra down, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hot gaze. He gave a dark chuckle at the sight of your already-hardened nipples, before bending his head and taking one roughly between his teeth. You cried out at the sharp pleasure-pain sensation, completely overwhelmed by the realization that he fully planned to fuck you in this bathroom, and that there was nothing you could do to stop it.

That you didn’t want to stop it.

Warm flesh and cool leather at your stomach indicated that he was undoing your jeans, practically ripping the zipper in his haste to get the offending garment off. He pulled back a scant distance, in order to drag the denim down over your hips and thighs. He got one leg free, and abandoned the task, leaving the jeans to hang off your left calf and foot. You were about to try and kick them off yourself, but the pants were quickly forgotten when a sharp snick echoed in the tiled room.

Hair stood up all over your body at the flash of a switchblade in Negan’s hand, and your vision became black and fuzzy at the edges when he brought it down towards your thighs.

“Don’t move a fucking muscle,” he ordered, voice raspy with sex and authority.

Holding a trembling breath, you had a moment where you thought this was it, that he had changed his mind, the scales tipping in favor of death over fucking. Eyes transfixed by the sharp metal, you watched as he used his gloved hand to pull one of your legs up and out, exposing your cunt. He slid the flat of the blade across your inner thigh, before delicately moving the tip underneath the crotch of your panties and pulling them out from your body, causing the elastic to strain.

With one quick, deft movement, the knife cut through the fabric, smooth as butter. Fear morphed back into arousal, and you gave a low, desperate groan, wetness flooding your pussy from the heady rush of adrenaline. He then lifted the knife and did the same to the front of your bra, slicing through the fabric and leaving your body bare except for the t-shirt still bunched up under your chin and the jeans hooked over your foot. Disappointment filled your chest when he closed the knife and put it back in his pocket, followed by a low burn of shame that you had hoped he’d continue to tease you with it. That he’d run it back down your leg, digging in just enough to leave a thin red line, and mark you as his.

You were shocked by your own thoughts, and especially that they were directed at a man who, frankly, you had tried to keep your distance from, up until this point. Sure, Negan was hot as hell, and had a commanding presence that drew women like moths to a flame, but he was also incredibly intimidating, with his violent dramatics and gaze that seemed to cut through all pretense and strip you down to the core. It had been so much easier to avoid him when necessary and keep to yourself and your duties.

Well, all those months of staying out of sight had been in vain, because here you were, getting a front and center demonstration of the formidable authority that was Negan.

The hand at your leg vanished, to be replaced at your waist, as he abruptly lifted you onto the sink and stepped between your thighs. Fear that it wouldn’t hold your weight was quickly forgotten by a leathered hand cupping your pussy. He gave a satisfied smile when your lips fell open with a needy moan, as he pushed two gloved fingers inside your wet heat.

“That’s it, show daddy how much you want him to fuck you. Does the sight of blood and death turn you on, little girl?”

You wanted to deny his claim, say that you weren’t like that, weren’t aroused by such morbid things...but the truth was staring you right in the face that maybe, just maybe, you actually were. Words were impossible, anyways, especially when he dropped the hand not in your cunt and started unbuckling his own pants. You should put an end to this, should ask him to stop and let you go back to your room, where things were safe. Instead, you gave a sharp cry of pleasure when he twisted his fingers inside of you at the same moment that he pulled his heavy, weeping cock out of his pants.

Your thighs instinctively spread apart on the sink without your brain’s consent. You were mortified at how your traitorous body was reacting to his like a bitch in heat, but the prospect of having that thick cock inside of you, after so many months of feeling empty, was too tempting to resist.

His fingers slid out of your cunt, making you whine in despair, the leather soaked and glistening with your desire. He trailed them up your stomach, leaving behind a line of shiny wetness, before lifting the digits up to your mouth with a command of, “Open.”

Lips parting without hesitation, he pushed the same two fingers deep inside your mouth, grabbing the sides of your cheeks with his thumb and pinky, holding your head immobile. The abrupt intrusion caused you to gag slightly, but you swore that the reaction made his eyes flash with sadistic pleasure, and he didn’t loosen his hold. The tang of leather mixed with the sweet, musky taste of your own juices flooded your tongue, and you moaned around the makeshift finger gag. The parallel to when your own hand had been covering your mouth earlier was not lost on you, and the reminder of the fight raised your desire another notch.

Eyes connected hotly to your own, he watched as your eyes widened and you twitched on the sink, at the feel of his hot cock nudging between your folds. Without further hesitation, he plunged inside of you with a quick, hard thrust that made you give a muffled scream around his fingers. Your pussy struggled to accommodate him, the sharp burn of your walls stretching around him signaling your body’s surrender.

His ungloved hand was at your hip, fingers digging into your flesh with a steel grip that matched the one he had on your face. In fact, the press of his digits was so rough that you were certain there would later be bruises on your cheeks that echoed the ones on his own face.

Pulling his hips back, he drove in deep, giving you no choice but to cling to the edges of the sink underneath you and let him do with your body as he wished. Nostrils flaring, he set up a brutal, fast pace, and the burning discomfort between your thighs soon morphed into a conflagration of pleasure. Whines and moans filtered out from your finger-stuffed mouth, as drool dribbled down your chin and onto your bunched-up shirt.

His body pressed down into yours, the sink groaning in protest at your combined weight. The jeans must’ve fallen off your foot at some point, because it was bare when you lifted it to wrap around his still-clothed body. The hot, thick drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls had you arching up into him helplessly. Every nerve ending in your body was focused on the sensations happening between your legs and the building pressure that signaled your orgasm was on the horizon.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled in your ear, his panting breaths hot on the side of your throat. “Is this what you were fucking hoping for, when you watched me strangle that asshole?”

You dimly realized that the expression on your face earlier, when the two men had been fighting, must’ve given away dark desires that you hadn’t even been aware you possessed. Somehow, Negan had taken one look at you and known your secret kinks, known that your panties had been uncomfortably wet while watching him beat and kill his traitorous second-in-command. He had seen his own bloodthirsty arousal reflected back at him in your gaze, and had decided to take advantage, without giving you a chance to think it through or say no.

Before you could fully process this sexual self-awakening, the hand at your hip moved upwards over the front of your body. Long, warm fingers trailed up your chest, tweaking your nipples harshly before spreading out over your collarbone and wrapping lightly around the front of your throat. His hands at your mouth and throat pushed you backwards, until your head was pressed up against the cool surface of the mirror hanging over the sink.

Your eyes widened with slight panic when the fingers tightened, pressing in on the sides of your neck in just the right way to cut off your flow of oxygen. Your hands flew up from the sink, wrapping around his wrist and forearm in a silent plea for air, which he denied.

“What’s the matter, doll? Since you fucking enjoyed watching earlier, I figured I’d give you a little fucking taste of what you missed out on.”

Shame flooded your body when his words caused your pussy to clench around his cock. Giving a deep groan at your reaction, he growled, “Jesus fuck, squeeze my dick like that again.”

He then loosened the fingers at your throat, causing you to suck in air as best you could through your nose, since his fingers were still jammed in your mouth. You barely got two breaths in before he cut off your air again, and got what he wanted in the form of your cunt tightening spasmodically around him.

Glancing down the front of your body, you watched, dazed and a little panicked, at the sight of his thick cock slamming into your cunt. Every time he pulled back, you could see the thick, white arousal from your pussy coating his dick, proof that you were enjoying his special brand of humiliation. You started to time your breaths to his thrusts, counting as he cut off your air for one two three four five six seven eight thrusts before letting you breathe for one two three four thrusts, then starting the cycle all over again.

You clawed at his wrist with sharp nails, but weren’t sure if it was because you wanted him to stop or were wordlessly begging for him to keep going. You looked up at his face, his jaw clenched tight and sweat dripping down his temples. The thought hit that this was the last thing Simon had seen, that the same hands wrapped around your throat and in your mouth had taken the life of a man not even half an hour earlier. That they were capable of doing the same thing to you, if he so wished. Rather than smack you back to reality, the thought caused a hot spark of fear that only served to further fuel your body’s frenzied arousal.

You weren’t supposed to like this. You should be horrified at the situation, struggling to free your throat from his grasp or biting down on his fingers to make him let go. You shouldn't be thriving off his brutal thrusts and humiliating dominance, shouldn’t be arching up into him, desperately pleading with him for more. You shouldn’t, but you were; begging in muffled, garbled whimpers for him to go harder. Faster. Harder. Faster harder deeper, oh please, yes, right there!

You thrived off the pain and degradation, as he plunged inside you so harshly that it caused a sharp ache with each deep thrust. And it was when he cut off your air again, with a whispered command of, “Come on my fucking dick. Right. Fucking. Now.,” that your body finally hit the precipice and flew over the edge.

Your spine went rigid with tension, back arching underneath him, before your orgasm released in a pulsating wave that sent you soaring up above the bathroom, above the Sanctuary, and exploded you out into the universe. The sheer force of the pleasure was terrifying, rattling your bones and making you feel as if you might black out. He relaxed his grip on your throat with a groan, jerking his hips sharply as he found his own release inside you. The black spots in your vision started to clear, as blessed oxygen filled your lungs, the same way that his hot cum was filling your cunt. His body twitched involuntarily and he gave a gasped, “fuck,” before stilling above you.

Lifting his head, breathing still heavy and ragged, Negan scanned your face, as if looking for something. You weren’t sure what he saw, or what he found, but it made his lips tip up slightly on one side, in the smallest of smirks.

Finally drawing his gloved fingers out of your mouth, you both watched as a thick string of saliva came with it, hanging in the air between his digits and your tongue, before breaking and splattering onto your chest. His fingers were soaked with drool, and he patted you on the cheek with them, before wiping the back of them across the bunched fabric of your t-shirt. Shame caused heat to flare in your cheeks, and it only intensified when he pulled his softening cock out of you, and you felt the warm trail of your combined cum trickle out of your pussy and down the crack of your ass.

He looked down over your drool-smeared face and well-fucked body, eyes flaring when they reached the juncture of your thighs, which were still spread wide, as you reclined bonelessly on the sink. You couldn’t even find the energy to gasp when he trailed a finger up your sopping cunt, gathering a glob of fluids that he brought up to the light to inspect.

You watched in awe as he brought the finger to his mouth, licking off the cum mixture with his tongue. He considered for a moment, before giving a hum of approval. He then shoved his cock back in his pants, zippered and buckled them, and ran a hair through his hair. And, just like that, he was once again presentable. Well, minus the sweat stain on the front of his shirt from his exertion and the glove that was sporting more wet spots than dry. Meanwhile, you still hadn’t moved from the sink, and looked as far away from presentable as was humanly possible.

He seemed to enjoy that, because he gave your body one last look-over, as if committing each detail to memory, before throwing you an arrogant grin and wink, and turning towards the exit. With a soft click, the door shut behind him, and you were left alone in the cold, sterile bathroom. Finally sliding off the sink and onto shaky legs, there was nothing left to do but gather up the tatters of your panties and put back on the clothes that hadn’t been cut in half.

Once dressed, you found that you didn’t want to leave, hand hesitating on the door knob. Walking outside this room meant that you had to step back into reality...meant acknowledging that this had really just happened. It also meant that you were going to have to cope with the fact that there was a whole new side of you that you hadn’t even been aware existed.

A side that had loved every single second of what Negan had done to you in this room.

A side that was already craving more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Negan Tag List, Forever Tag List, and Peeps who specifically asked to be tagged in this one (bolded names wouldn’t tag):

@hannibalssweaters @strangersangel9 @bamby0304 @mamapeterson @wheresthekillswitch @ericuhlorain @badsongwinchester @foofyschmoofer @magpiegirl80 @efeysa @peachtickler69 @supernaturally-lucky @favs-imagines @multireality @twdncgan @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @yuuki1000may @crzcorgi @rapsity @sunriserose1023 @breakfast-of-a-teenage-killer @heartfulloffandoms @superwholoki @winchesterswoonathon @is-this-you-manning-up-sammy @vizhi0n @kellyn1604 @embracetheapocalypsewithme @starshinesupergirl @noodlecupcakes @backseat-negan @opheliadawnwalker3 @superprincesspea @lucifers-trash-stash @squid-from-mirkwood @winmomomy @beltz2016 @tbkc @hausbolton @the--aviator @purplemuse @letsby @flamehairedwritings @carleymartinez @ryangoslingstanktop @jasoncrouse @genevievedarcygranger @princessmoonspunky @cass-xxo @mwesterfeld1985 @sillykittyface @jmackie1983 @despoina-nt @negan--is--god @risingphoenix761 @majinbuuwithatan @megmeg-chan @wickednerdery @ne-gans @deathvalleyqueen @jobean12-blog @jeffreydeanneganstrash @negvnsbombshell @yedi16 @wonderstruckbyfandoms @satanssubmissive @ibelongtonegan @isayweallgetdrunk @shadesofarrogance @divadinag @ambthegamer @negan-is-daddy @jdm-organ

#negan #negan's thirst squad #negan smut #negan fanfics #negan fanfiction #negan fanfic #negan x you #negan imagine #negan x female reader #negan x reader #negan x oc #reader insert #twd #the walking dead #ash writes #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #NTS

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turnupswritessometimes · 5 years

Text

Banana Fish - AshEiji - Ch3

Title: Skipping Stones

Part: 3/?

Word Count: 2282

Description: A collection of oneshots filling in some scenes that probably didn't happen in between episodes/scenes, but that I like to think did because these boys need to talk to each other.

Edit: This fic is also available on A03 under the same name. I would post a direct link but Tumblr then doesn’t put the post in searches so..

Ash was starting to get restless. He felt like a lion holed up in a cage too small for it. The novelty of riding around in a van like Scooby Doo was starting to grow thin – he was sick of service station food, sick of sleeping with two snoring lumps every night and sick of having nothing to do but stare at the world going by them. America seemed never-ending. How could they be sure they weren’t just driving around and around the globe, never reaching their destination?

It was those thoughts that were driving him inside. They were hard to shake. They needed him to go for a walk and clear his head to shake – to look at different street signs and license plate numbers to reassure himself that they had actually left New York. The problem was, he was being kept inside. It was unlikely he’d be recognised, especially so far from Manhattan, but, as Max kept reminding him – he had killed a man and got bailed out of jail. People would still be looking for him. The police were only third or fourth down that list.

Most of the time, he could deal with it. Eiji would bring a brown paper bag into the back of the truck and sit cross legged with him, worrying that he’d picked the wrong sauce or something else stupid. Most of the time, Shorter kept them company.

Then there was that one early morning walk with Eiji. Ash wasn’t entirely sure that it happened. The colours of that morning seemed to bright – too painted watercolour – to be real. But if he concentrated hard enough, he could still remember Eiji leaning against him, his dark, fluffy hair tickling Ash’s cheek and his mouth grinning into Ash’s hoodie. His imagination wasn’t good enough to conjure that up.

Eiji was asleep now. Mixed up in a bundle of jumpers and hoodies and a nylon sleeping bag they had picked up at the first homewear store they could find. Ash hated the feel of them, but they were decent protection against the bitingly cold nights.

He had thought Shorter was too – thought he had simply dropped off to sleep sitting up against the back of the truck. But then a voice came to him through the dark.

“I've seen the way you look at him,” Shorter was just a black shape in the black night. A shadow more than a boy.

“What?” Ash forced himself to look away from the bundle of blankets and out the back of the truck instead. There were plenty of stars, but they were just tiny pinpricks in the night sky.

“Eiji,” Shorter’s voice was low, determined not to wake him. “You like him, right?”

He could have feigned ignorance. Said, yeah, he liked him, they were mates. But the insinuation was too obvious in Shorter’s tone. It made his gut squirm.

“No,” he said, quickly and sharply. “No. I'm not-“

“Bent?”

“No.”

There was a pause. Ash had used the voice he used to get people to listen to him. The one that made boys twice the width of him tremble. Of course, Shorter was different. Shorter had stopped being scared of Ash long ago. It didn’t defer him for long.

“It's okay-“

“I'm not, okay?” Ash snapped again. He hated that patronising tone. He had no parents to have this conversation with – he shouldn’t have to have this conversation. “I'm not like Papa Dino-“ he hated the way it still rolled from his tongue like clockwork. “- or Marvin. I'm not.”

“There's nothing wrong with it,” Shorter was dancing around the word. That was fine, Ash was too.

“You used to call Marvin a fag all the time. You hated him.” Ash’s voice cracked on ‘hated’ and he cleared it. He had thought he had ironed out his voice cracking like that a long time ago.

"Not because he was gay," he'd finally said it and the word was lighter than it should be in the air. "Because he was a paedo and a rapist. They both are. The three are separate from each other. Being gay is the only thing that's not - wrong."

Another car drove into the petrol station, it's headlights like search lights. The white lit up Shorter's face for a moment. He was still wearing those sunglasses. His face was unreadable.

Ash kept his silence, watching the man stepping up to the gas pump. Where was he going, at this time of night? The question wasn't a satisfactory distraction.

“So - do you?" Like Eiji?

Ash didn't want to admit that he didn't know. He wasn't really sure what attraction was like. He wasn't sure how he was meant to feel - how he was even meant to know if he liked someone.

He had liked kissing Eiji. He liked flirting with Eiji, now more than ever because instead of turning him beetroot, it made him grin. His eyes would glance down and then up at Ash as though he was checking that he was still there. Ash could watch that all day.

Was that liking him?

He couldn't ask Shorter that. It was better to deflect the question.

"It doesn't matter. He'll be going back to Japan soon," the car drove away, taking it's otherworldly light with it. Ash was glad, it meant that Shorter couldn't see him hugging his knees to his chest.

"A long distance relationship would probably be safer for him," Shorter's voice was soft and Ash felt a pang of - he didn't know what - jealousy? He was the one who worried about Eiji. No one else.

"Stop chatting shit, Shorter."

Shorter laughed, a sound quickly muffled when Eiji shuffled.

"Seriously - if Ash Lynx can't get a guy to stay with him then where's the hope for the rest of us?"

"You've been in this truck too long," Ash said. He faked a yawn, pushing himself onto the floor. "You're delirious."

"You say delirious, I say I've had my third eye opened. I can see things now, Ash. I can read your mind."

"Right now my mind's telling you to piss off."

Another laugh. He stayed still, not in a comfortable position, but one he could hold. It was barely five minutes later when he heard Shorter beginning to snore.

His head was pillowed on his elbow and he could see the sky. He wished he had the knack to read constellations. He wondered if Eiji could. He wondered about Eiji a lot. There was so much he didn't know about him. So much he couldn’t know about him – because the more he knew about Eiji the more attached he would get.

Ash couldn’t afford to get attached to Eiji. Especially not after Skip. It had proved it. Ash Lynx could not afford to get close to anyone, it only put them in danger. He hadn’t even known Eiji as long as he’d known Skip – he shouldn’t care this much about some Japanese boy.

Some Japanese boy with ridiculously soft hair and stupidly sparkly eyes.

Oh shit.

Oh shit – was that attraction?

The thought made Ash’s heart stop. He lay there in the dark, his elbow throbbing underneath him.

In two seconds, he was scrambling to his feet and clambering over the back of the truck. The ground slipped beneath him in his haste and he almost fell headlong.

He hammered his fists on the driver’s side of the window – right against where Max’s ear was slumped against the glass.

The man jolted upright, his hand hovering over the wheel, before he saw Ash’s blonde hair, like a candle in the darkness. He blinked apart sleep-heavy eyes, rolling the window down.

“Ash? What’s wrong?” he was frowning, his hair sticking up like a porcupine’s quills. Why did everyone think there was something wrong? Why couldn’t he just want a chat with people? So what if it was the middle of the night?

“Can we talk?” Ash swallowed. He was suddenly finding it hard to look Max in the eye. His chest was tight.

“It’s – what – two in the morning?” Max frowned at the dash. Ibe groaned next to him, turning further away from both of them.

Ash shrugged. “It’s important?”

“Mm?” Max’s head tilted to one side.

“Not here?”

Max nodded his head again and again, looking like a bobble headed doll. Ash wondered for a moment if he’d fallen asleep, but then he was opening the car door and pulling on a pair of battered boots. He stumbled down from the truck.

They headed over to one of the pumps, leaning against it. They were all advertising a space to put adverts.

“What’s wrong?” Max fished in his pockets, coming back with a cigarette between his fingers. “Nightmares?”

Ash shook his head, watching the lighter spark and flicker to life. “I have a problem.”

“You think we’re being tracked or something?”

It was all they thought about. Wasn’t anyone else thinking of anything else?

“I think-“ Ash couldn’t believe he was saying it. He fiddled with the gas pump behind him. “I think I might fancy Eiji.”

Max took a long drag on the cigarette, puffing it out in a long cloud. “And that’s – what? News?”

Ash’s middle finger twitched of its own accord. He shoved it into his pocket, taking a breath. Why was this so hard to talk about?

“To me. I – I didn’t see myself ever having a crush, okay?”

Max was silent. He drew out another breath on the cigarette, tapping the end out. Ash’s nose twitched at the smell. Golzine didn’t smoke, that was where he drew the line, but a lot of his lackey’s did. Ash hadn’t been able to place the smell for years. It wasn’t particularly repulsive to him. He didn’t care to try it – he wasn’t about to risk yellow nails and teeth and whatever else for an addiction – though that it would certainly be a way of getting his own back. He could only imagine Golzine’s face if he saw his precious pet with his fingers round a cigarette.

“I’m sorry,” Max said finally.

“Yeah, I know, I had a shit childhood. Can we move on?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say when you say stuff like that, okay?”

“Nothing. I’d like you to just carry on.”

“Fine. Carrying on,” smoke fell from Max’s breath like bubbles. “I don’t see the problem. You and Eiji are good together.”

“He’s - he’s Eiji. He’s nothing like me. He can’t fight, he can’t shoot-“

“I think you like that,” Max wasn’t looking at him. “I think you like that he’s completely out of your world.”

“That’s the point. He’s completely out of my world. He wouldn’t survive in New York – and he won’t even stay.”

“Ibe can’t force him to stay here, you know,” Max spoke slowly, his eyes on the van. “Eiji’s nineteen. He’s an adult. If he wants to stay here – no one can stop him.”

“I hate that. I hate how relentless he is.”

“Hate?”

Ash looked away, letting his hair fall across the side of his face. Of course he did, but it was in a weird hate kind of way. He wanted his emotions to fall into place like they usually did. Love. Hate. They shouldn’t mix.

“Can I try that?”

“What?”

“Your cig?”

“No way,” Max laughed in clouds. “You’re way too young.”

“Oh yeah? How old were you when you first started?”

“Older than you. You’re what, twelve?”

“Just one drag.”

“You’ll get addicted and then where will you be?”

Ash shrugged. “Addicted.”

Max tapped the ash away, took another drag, actually looking as though he was considering it.

“All done,” he said, crushing it under his boot.

“Fuck you.”

“Just tell Eiji how you feel. From the sounds of it, he’s not all too good with relationships either. The two of you will figure something out.”

“That’s just like an adult to say,” Ash muttered. His temper was back like someone had flicked on a switch – he felt it boiling all over him. He started back to the van.

“Oh, thank you for waking up at two in the morning to help with my love life, Max. I really appreciate it, Max,” he heard the man mutter behind him. “Teenagers.”

“Old man. Why am I listening to you, anyway? You’re divorced.”

“You asked. I answered.”

“Yeah, well, never again.”

Max opened the car door, and Ash caught sight of the smirk on his face. He realised too late that he had fallen right into the trap.

“Suits me just fine, kiddo.”

The door closed again. Ash gritted his teeth, his fists curling of their own accord. He wanted to punch the van. He wanted to kick the van. Kick or punch anything.

That was how his anger was – a sudden throb of violence. A sudden urge to kick out. It came and went quicker than a tide. He was just furious and then –

Not.

He breathed out, leaning against the van and staring up into the pin-pricks in the sky. Maybe they were all trapped in a jar, and those little lights were the air holes. A child was watching them with fascination right now.

Ash shook his head – those kind of thoughts were even worse than thinking about Eiji. Those kind of thoughts burrowed into his mind and sat there for days. He’d rather think about Eiji.

Of course, Eiji had also burrowed his way right into Ash’s mind.

Shorter was right. Ash liked Eiji.

He just had to figure out if Max was right too.

He’d never hear the end of it if he was.

#banana fish #asheiji #ash lynx #aslan jade callenreese #eiji okumura #ash/eiji #ash x eiji #eiji x ash #eiji/ash #turnupswrites #max lobo #shorter wong

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mimik-u · 6 years

Text

Flower Child (Chapter 9)

Title: Home (III)

A/N:

The last of the Beach City filler episodes "Home" installments—I swear, lol. Thank you guys for sticking with "Flower Child." I appreciate each and every one of your Kudos and comments; they never fail to make me feel like I'm on top of the world. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Next week, we'll be back to Empire City, and for the first time in this fic, I think we'll play around in Steven's point of view for a little while. ;)

(Pearl sketch at the bottom.)

AO3

01.

The sand pushed against Garnet, but Garnet pushed back, dragging her feet through the coarse grain that seized at her with millions of grasping hands. Fingers around her swollen ankles. Claws. But she did not stop; she could not afford to stop.

She was afraid that she would let the sand bury her if she did.

The yellow dunes a monument to her cowardice.

To every instinct that had told her to run.

The sun carved itself into her back; she ran to invite its pain, not in spite of it.

Her tank top was slick with sweat, pressed against her skin like a white tattoo; she ran and half-wished the garment would choke her.

Damn coward that she was, she ran.

And she did not look back. The sharp heaving of her chest felt like knives.

One full hour of this—don’t stop—two—don’t look back—and then suddenly, without warning, Garnet’s powerful legs buckled underneath her and she pitched forward in the sand, choking, teeth gritted with the salted grain. She coughed violently, and black spots sprayed across her vision as she fought to maintain a tenuous grip on reality, but it slipped away from her as she dipped her forehead against a fallen, sweat drenched arm. The sun bore down on the back of her exposed neck. Her breath clouded in the pocket between her face and the hot sand. The ocean seethed against the shore.

Garnet closed her eyes.

She let go.

And a memory stole in—soft, vulnerable, a moth fluttering next to a candle.

It was twilight, and the setting sun slanted through the blinds to soak the painfully white walls. An orange that seared. A deep purple that left a bruise. An angry pink, like the aftermath of a blow. Garnet sat on the edge of the railed bed, hands clenched until they were gray on her lap.

And she was still, dreadfully still—a statue on the verge of erosion.

“Garnet?”

She didn’t hear him at first, couldn’t hear anything past the blood boiling in her ears and the unholy trembling of her bones, her chest, her stomach.

“Gaaaaarnet,” he persisted, a teasing edge to his voice. “You’re missing the best part! Toast just broke up with Milk because she thought he was cheating on her with Cereal, and now they’re both crying about it on split screens! Oh, wait—no! I spoke too soon! Toast, Milk, and Cereal are all crying on triple split screens! Gosh, this is good stuff!”

It was Monday night, which meant that a new Crying Breakfast Friends was on. A show about clinically depressed breakfast items, it was somehow Steven’s favorite.

He liked to gush about it.

This was normal, she told herself.

This was normal. She bit her lip so hard that blood welled where she split it.

This was normal. She couldn’t look at him.

This was normal. His empty catheter bag hung limply off the side of the bed.

“Pearl said that I need to, uh, critically examine the stuff I watch, though, so if I’m being honest, the problem here is kinda forced. Cereal is obviously not into romantic relationships, and she just views Milk as a friend, which is totes cool, but I appreciate the character development they’re giving her.”

Kidney failure.

He had kidney failure.

He was thirteen years old, dammit, and he had—

“Because you see,” he continued over the sound of a closely whirring machine, over the sound of her spiraling panic, “Cereal never shows emotion. Like, ever, and she really values her friendships with both Toast and Milk, so this being the thing that breaks her is actually kinda sweet.”

Dr. Maheswaran’s lined face had fallen into geometric disarray when she had told them, all of her harshness slipping into nothingness, into a helplessness they had only seen her wear once before.

The day of Rose’s funeral.

“I’m sorry,” she had whispered. “I’m so sorry that this has happened.”

“And what I’m trying to say, Garnet, is that you’re spacing out right now, and it’s really scaring me,” Steven said, his voice vulnerable with the admission, cracked.

The words were distant to her, landing in her ears but traveling no further. Even so, Garnet painfully drew her head up to look at him; it felt as though there was a weight upon her neck, a yoke, an iron clasp, a world.

His dark eyes burned into hers, and they were the only things that did; the rest of his features were pale, ghostly, having long lost their beautiful olive tint to sickness.

He was thirteen.

He had kidney failure.

“Please,” he murmured softly, extending his chubby hand towards her—as far as all of the tubing and wires would allow. “I need you to be here for me, Garnet. If you’re scared, let’s be scared together. Because I’m kind of scared, and everyone else is gone, but you’re here, and yet, you’re not really here, and I—”

She was slow, slower than she usually was when it came to comforting Steven. He scraped his knee after falling down? Easy. She could scoop him up into her strong arms and blow raspberries onto his tubby belly until he forgot the sting. Emotional episode of Crying Breakfast Friends? She’d pass him the tissue box seconds before he even opened his mouth to ask for it.

But this?

This?

This was uncharted territory—for Steven, for her, for Greg, Amethyst, and Pearl.

So she was slow, achingly slow, to close the distance between them, to wrap Steven into her arms, to place her chin on the crown of his curls.

But she managed it.

(How? She couldn’t say.)

She rubbed soothing circles into the small of his gowned back and whispered, “I’m here.”

I’m here.

In the warm shield of her arms, Steven began to cry.

Barely five minutes had passed, but they felt like an eternity as Garnet finally pushed herself out of the sand and into a tentative sitting position, lightheaded from the heat and yet heavy with exhaustion. She could have floated away; she could have melted into the ground.

But both of these options were untenable.

She had to—she stumbled gracelessly to her feet—get to—she palmed a sweaty hand across her face—Steven. A low growl tore through her teeth as she began to run.

The sand pushed against Garnet, but Garnet pushed back, hands scissoring the still air, thighs burning with the exertion. She felt the clever trappings of the yellow grain, felt the particles climb up her skin and entreat her to stay, but she did not stop; she could not afford to stop.

She had a purpose now.

Something… someone… to run home to.

One full hour of this, but not quite two—she was fast, determined, indomitable—and the beach house came into view, snugly perched on the cliff, its railings newly livened up by a multitude of colorful balloons. Garnet only slowed to a walk when her foot found purchase on a stair, lead pooling suddenly onto its weight.

Nearly four hours of running, and she’d forgotten her water bottle in her haste to leave. Her lips, her throat, her entire body were scorched, but she paid no mind to these little details as she dragged herself up the stairs, one sluggish foot after another.

She had to—she crossed the wooden deck—get to—she wrapped her glistening fingers around the door handle—Steven.

Garnet opened the door.

A whoosh of cold air rose to greet her, and she was able to pry her eyes out of their half-lidded weariness. The ceiling fan in the living room whirred. Kneeling next to the coffee table, Peridot and Lapis looked up from where they had been counting plastic utensils.

Peridot opened her mouth as though to speak, but someone else beat her to the punch.

“Garnet?”

Her head shot to the left, and there Steven was—sitting on his bed, his pale face awash with relief.

She was slow, achingly slow, as she climbed the couple of steps leading up to the loft.

But she didn’t have to go much further.

Steven slid off his bed and met her halfway, curling his arms around her sweaty leg.

“I’m here,” she said softly, placing a tentative hand on his curls.

I’m here.

(And I’m sorry.)

“Ugh,” he replied with a grin, scrunching up his button nose, “you stink, Garnet.”

02.

Naturally, the fish fry was a success—as it always was with Pearl at the organizational helm.

Only a handful of people lived in Beach City, true, but this very handful invited their friends and family from neighboring towns and cities, and fifteen odd people somehow became nearly one hundred. By five, around seven hundred dollars had been raised, and they hadn’t even looked at the bids for their silent auction yet! (Vidalia was offering up some of her artwork, and Boardwalk vendors like Mr. Fryman and Kofi had been gracious enough to donate services like free catering to the pool of available items.)

Leaning against the porch railing, Pearl surveyed the view in front of her and waited for the swell of pride that usually congratulated her after a night of such accomplishment. Garnet and Amethyst had arranged round tables all over their little stretch of beach, and sitting at the front of the deck, a long, rectangular table boasted scant and scattered piles of white to-go boxes, the pitiful remnant of what had once been teetering pyramids. (Surely, people would snag the last couple on their way out, just to have leftovers for tomorrow.) The sun, golden and blurred around the edges, sunk into the low neck of the horizon, casting lovely, shimmering images on the ocean just beyond the beach. People were laughing and talking and dancing to some hip electronic song that Vidalia’s DJ son was blaring through his tall speakers.

The day had been perfect.

So why did Pearl feel like she was about to throw up?

Maybe it was the way various people from town kept coming up to her and asking after Steven. They meant well, but their sympathetic eyes and the pity in their voices and the subtle relief in their faces (I’m glad it’s not me) started to blend and grate after awhile.

“Ah, poor Universe,” Mayor Dewey sighed, tsking lightly. “It just doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“Sweet kid.” Barb Miller knocked her affectionately in the shoulder (nearly barreling her over in the process). “I just dunno if I could do it if it was my Sadie.”

“You tell Steven that he’s welcome to come to Funland at anytime, ya hear?” Mr. Smiley smiled, all teeth, brimming with an ungodly kind of optimism.

“He’s not looking good, is he?”

“You guys are doing the Lord’s work.”

“Has there been any news?”

“I’m bringing a casserole over soon!”

And on and on. Pearl’s hand drifted to her stomach, and her eyes drifted down to one of the tables closest to the house, where Garnet was sitting alone, her expression seemingly vacant behind her trademark sunglasses. But Pearl was perceptive, and what’s more, familiar with Garnet after nearly two decades of being her roommate. The sculptured lines of her muscles were tense, electric with nerves. Her legs were crossed, but the foot she had on the ground bobbed out of time with Sour Cream’s music.

Maybe it was the knowledge that tonight, she’d sit across Garnet and tell her about the contents of Dr. Maheswaran’s letter. She’d have to watch as Garnet’s stoic features would crumple as she registered the words feeding tube, how her hands would clench tightly on her lap in the place of spoken words.

Maybe it was the fact that Steven had only picked at his grilled fish tonight, had nibbled on an unsalted french fry or two before shoving his plate away apologetically.

“I’m just not hungry.” He’d said the same thing about his pancakes this morning. He’d thrown up the one pancake that he could stomach.

Or maybe it was the way Amethyst’s brown eyes had dulled after Pearl had grabbed her arm earlier this evening and told her that they were going to have a family meeting on the deck.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Her voice was quiet, scratchy in all of her vulnerable places.

Pearl stifled the urge to look away and could only manage a curt nod.

“I figured as much,” she sighed, pulling a hand across the back of her neck. “Dr. M was really antsy this week. Guess that can’t mean anything good.”

She searched for Amethyst now and found that she was with Steven. They were sitting on the shoreline, backs to the house, eyes on the setting sun. She had one plump arm slung around his shoulders. In the dying light, her long hair was a brilliant silver stream.

Jealousy nicked at her with an unexpected sting, a little paper cut right across her sternum, one inch long.

She wanted to know what they were talking about.

Wanted to cling to every word that came out of his mouth.

Every moment… every hour, every minute, every second… was precious with him nowadays.

He was an hourglass turned over, slowly trickling away.

Maybe she’d go down there and join them…

Maybe that would abate the awful mess of her stomach…

Maybe was her constant refrain tonight.

Uncertainty was the word.

“Ya’ve done it again, Pearl.”

Pearl blinked, and with a jolt, realized that Greg had joined her on the balcony, an appreciative grin stretched across his red face as he greeted her. In an old, white tank top and ripped jean shorts, he was just as Greg as ever, but his bleary eyes betrayed him (just as Garnet’s foot did her and Amethyst’s dull expression spoke volumes). His tired gaze slid to where Steven and Amethyst sat on the beach, following where hers had just been, and his smile seemed to take on the subtle tinges of sadness as he absorbed the simple image.

She regained her composure with a tiny cough. “Ah, thank you, Greg. I’ve been meaning to catch you by the way. We’re having a family—”

He cut across her as kindly as anyone cutting across someone could manage. “—meeting tonight. Yeah, I know.” He jerked his thumb down below. “Garnet told me.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

They lapsed into silence. There was nothing left to say; there were oceans. (But neither of them were particularly good at navigating the rough waters, so they remained silent in an attempt to not choke on salt.)

The party swirled on without them.

People laughing.

Talking.

Dancing.

Enjoying themselves.

They were all but alien creatures, every single one of them.

How were they so happy?

So carefree?

How was their world not bleak and gray and centered around a little boy named Steven?

“Pearl?” Greg asked after a long while.

“Hm?” She slid a curious glance his way, but he never took his eyes away from the darkening silhouettes of Amethyst and Steven; they were but specks in the distance now, bathed in the dusky sun.

“Do you remember what Rose used to say about sunsets? She had this whole speech about them, and I can almost hear it in my mind, but I honestly can’t remember it word for word.” He chuckled lightly and tapped the side of his balding head. “The years are catchin’ up to me, I guess.”

The mere mention of her name sent an involuntary shiver down Pearl’s spine. She wanted to hug herself; she wanted to wrap herself around the name and be left alone to mourn for it, but all the same, she knew instantly what Greg was searching for in her memories.

Her voice was thick as she volunteered it.

“She loved sunsets,” she whispered, looking down at her hand on the railing. Pale and cold, it was knotted with tiny goosebumps; the wooden grain beneath it was simply knotted by time and wind and salt. “And when she was… sick, you know, she used to say that sunsets were lovely ways to think about life and death and everything in-between. They’re explosions, riots of color that precede beautiful, star-strewn nights. She—”

Pearl faltered; she couldn’t go on.

“She said she was a sunset, didn’t she?” Greg said softly when he realized this. “She said that we shouldn’t grieve for her… that we should appreciate the night she leaves behind.”

She couldn’t say yes so much as she could intimate it.

She nodded very slowly and tried to smile.

He shot her a watery grin in return.

The first stars began to pop up in the vast canvas of sky; Steven lifted his arm to point at them.

03.

By seven, nearly all of their guests had finally left; what stragglers remained helped clean up. By eight, the beach was all but pristine, the fish fry eradicated from its silky existence. All that remained were the multitude of collapsed tables that they had leaned against the deck for the night. Greg would take ‘em back to their storage unit sometime tomorrow. By nine, Steven had taken his bath and was tucked into bed by all four of his guardians.

“G’night, Stu-ball.”

“Goodnight, Steven.”

“Night.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite, Ste-man,” Amethyst grinned before promptly attacking his blanketed feet.

He giggled, the others stepped down from the loft, and then he surreptitiously whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “The window!”

She winked at him conspiratorially before descending herself.

When everyone was in their respective rooms, getting into their pajamas, Amethyst snuck into the darkened living room and moved deftly towards the corner that was opposite to Steven’s loft; with its L-shaped bench and plush cushions, it was more or less a reading nook for nerds like Pearl and Peridot to make themselves comfortable in. Glancing around to make sure that no other adult was observing—she was pretty sure she could detect a dark pair of fourteen-year old eyes glinting at her from across the room—she unlatched the lock in the window that overlooked the deck and pushed the glass an inch or so upwards. A narrow strip of humid air snuck its way into the cool room.

She gave Steven a thumbs up she wasn’t entirely sure he could see before scurrying off to her own room to pull on her own nighttime gear (a tank top and booty shorts, of course).

By 9:30, their little coterie was assembled at the white table that perched conveniently on the far corner of the deck, asses already chafing in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. (“I’ll eventually get us cushions,” Pearl often claimed. “I’m just waiting to find a set that complements the house best.” “Jesus,” Amethyst moaned in return.) Pearl sat lightly at the edge of her own chair and squinted at a tiny slip of paper that was barely illuminated by the soft, yellow porch light; Amethyst immediately recognized it as one of the papers that Dr. Maheswaran had wanted her to pass on.

As furtively as possible, she snuck a glance at the crack in the window that no one had yet to notice, thrilling a little at their clever subterfuge.

“So, uhh, what’s in that letter, Pearl?” Greg asked, nervously eyeing the note. He didn’t know the contents—none of them did—but there was something in Pearl’s features—something dark, something bleak—that spoke to their worst assumptions. Amethyst stiffened in her seat to prepare for the blow, never quite letting the window leave the periphery of her vision as she did.

Shit, maybe she shouldn’t have done this.

Pearl opened her mouth and then promptly shut it, and then opened it again but no words came out. Silently, she passed the paper to her left, to Garnet, who scanned Maheswaran’s piss poor handwriting before shoving the paper into Greg’s surprised hands.

She didn’t have her sunglasses on.

Her eyes, one blue, the other brown, stared wildly into space.

Amethyst was suddenly stricken of the image of a wounded animal—cornered, desperate, doomed.

“No, no,” Greg shook his head, his low voice rising with each denial. “It’s too soon for that. We can’t be there yet. He’s still eating. He’s—” The note had crumpled in his large hand.

“He’s puking up nearly everything we give him,” Pearl said lifelessly, staring down at the table. “That can’t be healthy for him.”

Amethyst impatiently snatched the letter from Greg’s clenched hand. “Lemme see!”

She smoothed out the wrinkles as much as she could manage and read:

Pearl,

Steven’s health has declined considerably in the past few weeks. You all have probably noticed it and let me be quick to assure you that it isn’t because any lapse on your behalves. Chronic kidney disease tends to progress faster in adolescents.

All the same, he’s lost seven pounds since May, and with the onset of anemia, he’s at risk of losing even more, amongst other complications. My advice to you this week is to ensure that he strictly follows the dietician’s recommendations for caloric intake. Additionally, he absolutely must take those iron pills in order to encourage red blood cell production in his body.

If I find that his condition has worsened by the end of this week, then I think our best step forward is hospitalizing him again, so that we can supplement his nutrition with a feeding tube—

She didn’t read any further, didn’t have to, dammit, and she cast the offending object away as though burned. Wrinkled and worn, it landed in the center of the table, an eyesore that drew all of their baleful glares.

For the most part, the letter was fine.

Hell, it was in the ballpark of the kind of stuff Dr. M usually sent.

It was just those two words.

Feeding tube.

He might need a feeding tube.

Greg was right.

They couldn’t be there yet.

It was way too soon.

“Dammit,” she said aloud, only remembering at the last second that it was carrying to ears beyond the ones at the table. (With every passing second, with every new drop of horror pooling in her belly, Amethyst regretted letting him listen in. He’d just been so persuasive on the beach, so ready to accept the consequences of what he could possibly hear… but even if he was prepared, she wasn’t so sure that she was.)

“Crude,” Pearl sighed, pinching the bridge of her sharp nose, “but accurate.”

Garnet shifted in her seat, her mouth set into an impossibly firm line that only budged when she spoke; her words were tense, pushed out through gritted teeth. “So what now?”

“Pardon?”

“What do we do now?” she asked, as though it was the most obvious question in the world, and perhaps it very well was. Dr. M had given them a possible consequence, and now they had to do their best to avoid it coming into fruition—if that was even possible.

Amethyst pulled the paper back to her side of the table, glanced over it one more time.

My advice to you this week is to ensure that he strictly follows the dietician’s recommendations for caloric intake. Additionally, he absolutely must take those iron pills in order to encourage red blood cell production in his body.

“I guess we just try to follow Dr. M’s orders,” she shrugged when no one else was forthcoming, but even the act of shrugging seemed like a betrayal to the situation at hand. Her mouth was achingly dry. “Make sure he eats, give him his medicine, and yadda-yadda-yadda. It’s not a lot to work with, but it’s, like, better than nothing.”

“Well said,” Greg murmured, and to her relief, both Garnet and Pearl eventually brought themselves to nod.

“Better than nothing,” Garnet repeated, seemingly to herself. And then her bicolored eyes seemed to focus, as though drawing themselves back to the present. She blinked once and offered a lopsided grin to Amethyst, and Amethyst felt a sudden rush of grateful heat clamor up her cheeks. It’d been far too long since one of those had graced her features.

“Then I suppose that settles that,” Pearl said with visible relief, reaching across the table and reclaiming the note. She appeared a little less harried now that they had established a game plan. “Before we disperse, we should probably cover our finances for—”

Amethyst hadn’t even opened her mouth to call Pearl lame when an ominous plunk resounded from inside the house—dull but louder than it should have been. Closest to the window, but not facing it, Pearl whipped her head around and ascertained the crack with a choking gasp.

“Has that been open this whole time?!”

Amethyst suddenly found herself very interested in a lightning shaped crack in the table, but luckily enough, Pearl was more focused on examining the source of the noise—please be one of the cats, she hoped against hope—than actively being suspicious about a window that they usually kept closed all the time. She sprung gracefully from her chair and opened the door as quietly as she could possibly manage, sticking her head in to look.

“Oh, my God! Steven!”

#steven universe #pearl #garnet #amethyst #greg universe #flower child #mimik-u #s: steven universe #i'm so tired y'all #i woke up at 3am to finish this baby #long post

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imaginedilestrade · 7 years

Note

Can we have a special Ben X reader fic for his birthday 😊❤️

A/N: okay I don’t usually do this but since it’s Benedict’s birthday I will 😁 so here’s a special birthday Ben X reader ficlet 😊 Happy birthday Benedict! 😄🎉

————————

“He likes you, you know…” You slowly looked up to Amanda who had a Cheshire Cat like grin on her face. You rolled your eyes and playfully jabbed her side and she flinched on the spot laughing.

“No he doesn’t, and anyway we’re friends and he seems happy with that,” you told her in a matter of fact voice. You were standing with her on the set of Sherlock, you had been casted as Mrs Hudson’s granddaughter back in 2010 and had been on a few episodes since then as well as other acting jobs. Amanda loved to tease you by constantly telling you that Ben liked you.

She looked at you with a questioning glare “Are you?” Amanda asked and her question whirled around in your head.

You didn’t have time to answer her as the director shouted “Places!” And you and Amanda rushed to get into character. “Alright everybody! Action!”

You watched Martin and Ben work, their acting was flawless and almost effortless. Well flawless most of the time, as soon as the thought went into your head Ben burst out laughing at ‘Johns’ witty remark.

You couldn’t help but giggle and Ben looked up over to you with a small smile on his face “Alright is everyone ready?” The director asked and Ben nodded, quickly apologising for his outburst before continuing with the scene.

You stood waiting with Rupert at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the flat, ready for the director to shout action. “I’m going to feel like the third wheel,” he lightly chuckled and you furrowed your brow.

“What do you mean? You asked, fixing your costume a little.

Rupert shrugged “Well when you two have a scene together it’s like you both enter a world of your own…” He trailed off and you looked ahead, composing your thoughts. Did that really happen? If it did you didn’t notice it.

“Everybody ready? 3…2…1…action!”

You ran up the stairs with Rupert “Morning Sherlock,” you chirped with a smile “I found Greg on the stairs.”

“Who?” ‘Sherlock’ asked.

You rolled your eyes “Lestrade!” Both you and ‘Greg’ said at the same time. You continued on with the scene perfectly, subconsciously trying to find this ‘world’ Rupert was talking about.

The next scene you were shooting was with Andrew, where ‘Jim’ had kidnapped you and ‘John’ and 'Sherlock’ would have to save you. “A little bird told me that you’ve auditioned to be Cleopatra in the Globe theatres production of 'Antony and Cleopatra’.” Andrew looked at you with a smile on his face, a far cry from his almost petrifying Moriarty expressions.

“Uh yeah I’m waiting to hear back from them. Apparently they might be casting David as Antony.”

“Tennant?” Andrew clarified and you nodded.

“Yeah but I’ll have to wait and see if I get the part first.”

“I know some of the production managers there, I’ll give them a call and sort you out,” Andrew winked and you gasped, instantly bringing him in for a hug.

“Thanks Andrew that would be amazing!” You let go of him and prepared yourself for the scene. You had to wait for 'John’ and 'Sherlock’ to untie you from a chair that was in front of a loaded gun with a timer. You got into character and the scene began. Your character had their eyes shut and you cried some fake tears, your eyes opened when you felt hands fumble with the rope around you.

“Sh-Sherlock?” You sobbed out and watched as Ben avoided looking you in the eye. You wanted to furrow your brows but did your best not to break character. 'Sherlock’ untied you before pushing you to the ground as the gun went off.

“Cut! Perfect take guys!” The director shouted.

You barely heard him though, you were too entranced with Benedict hovering over you. Ben snapped back into reality and out of the trance he was being pulled into with your eyes “So-sorry Y/N…” He stuttered out and helped you up before quickly going to prepare for his next take.

You let out a small sigh and returned to your trailer just as you received a call “Hello?”

“Y/N! You got the part of Cleopatra!”

—-

About a month later Sherlock was wrapping up filming and all the cast and some of the crew gathered around on set to celebrate “So Y/N…” Mark trailed off with a knowing smirk “Or should I call you Queen of Egypt?” You couldn’t help but smile and let out a giggle as the rest of the cast gasped with surprise.

“You got it?!” Louise asked with a delighted squeal before pulling you in for a hug.

“Yeah all thanks to Andrew!” You smiled at the Irish actor.

“Oh nonsense! You got it because you’re the best bloody actor in the country! Come give me a cuddle” you walked over to him and embraced him in a tight hug “Congratulations.”

You stepped back and found yourself looking into Ben’s eyes “Congratulations Y/N,” you wrapped your arms around him tightly, inhaling his goosebump inducing scent.

“Thank you…Sorcerer Supreme…” You teasingly whispered in his ear with a smile before pulling back, only to be still held in his arms. You smiled at his surprised face, he never told anyone, or at least couldn’t remember if he told anyone “A little bird,” you told him and he clicked on. That little bird was always Amanda.

You went back to your trailer for the last time in the series to collect your things when the door opened “Ben! Hey!” You smiled and put down a box of your belongings.

“Hi…” He slowly drawled out “Uh I just wanted to say well done again for getting the part of Cleopatra.”

“Thank you,” you bashfully smiled “Congratulations to you too! Dr Strange?! That’s amazing! I loved those comics. Marvel are very lucky to have you. When do you start filming?” You asked.

“I head out to Nepal tomorrow then Atlanta after that…” He trailed off with a sad tone and you gulped.

“For how long?” You asked in a whisper.

Ben burned his gaze into the ground “Five months.”

You felt your heart shatter, you wouldn’t be able to see him in person for five months. It would be the longest you would have been away from him. “Oh,” was all you could mutter out before you put on a fake smile “Well I’m sure it will be an amazing experience!”

“Yeah,” he sent you a half smile “Who has been cast for Antony?” He asked raising a suspicious brow.

“David Tennant was cast, I’m looking forward to working with him!” You smiled.

“Yeah…lucky sod gets to kiss you…” He mumbled so quietly that you didn’t hear him. “I’ll come and see you before the production finishes, I promise.” He smiled and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek. It lingered for what felt like hours “Goodbye Y/N.”

“Bye Ben…”

—-

Three months later you found yourself on the stage bowing for the final time as the crowd cheered and gave a standing ovation. You scanned your eyes across the crowd looking for a certain face but he wasn’t there. You tried not to let your disappointment shine through as you smiled and waved whist the curtain closed.

All the Sherlock cast had visited you, all except Ben. You sat in your dressing room that night, still in costume, looking at a photo from way back in 2010 at a young, fresh faced, Sherlock cast. You smiled and traced you fingertips over Benedict’s face with a sad smile. In the photo he had his arm around your shoulders with a large smile on his face. You both looked so young.

Your face had an even bigger smile on in. Sherlock was your first proper acting gig and from that your career propelled. A knock on the door snapped your from your thoughts and you hollered the person on the other side to come in. “Miss Y/L/N?”

You turned around seeing it was a backstage assistant “Um everyone has gone home but there is a person waiting for you on stage.” They smiled and left you utterly confused.

You walked to the stage, still in costume, and found no one there. That was until you heard a voice echoing through the empty theatre “I am dying, Egypt, dying; onlyI here importune death awhile, untilOf many thousand kisses the poor lastI lay up thy lips.”

You flawlessly began to recite your lines as Cleopatra, quickly getting into character with a smile hearing his voice. “I dare not, dear,–Dear my lord, pardon,–I dare not,Lest I be taken: not the imperious showOf the full-fortuned Caesar ever shallBe brooch’d with me; if knife, drugs,serpents, haveEdge, sting, or operation, I am safe:Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyesAnd still conclusion, shall acquire no honourDemuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,–Help me, my women,–we must draw thee up:Assist, good friends.”

“O, quick, or I am gone.” You saw Benedict stepping out of the shadows in the most bizarre costume, quoting Antony. You couldn’t help but laugh at his attire and perfectly designed facial hair.

“What are you wearing?!” You laughed, clutching your stomach.

Ben smiled “Stay in character!” He told you and you managed to calm your giggles.

“It’s going to be hard when you look like that,” you waved your hand up and down in front of him as he joined you on stage “But alright.” You cleared your throat and composed yourself before continuing with your lines “Here’s sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord!Our strength is all gone into heaviness,That makes the weight: had I great Juno’s power,The strong-wing’d Mercury should fetch thee up,And set thee by Jove’s side. Yet come a little,–Wishes were ever fools,–O, come, come, come;” Your breath hitch feeling Benedict’s hands soothingly rub up and down your forearms. You continued speaking with a trembling voice as the strangely dressed actor in front of you made your mind spiral out of control with nerves. “And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived:Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,Thus would I wear them out…”

Your voice was nothing but a whisper as you finished your line “You came…” You trailed off.

“I tried to come sooner, I wanted to see you. We’re filming in London for a few days, I’m sorry I broke my promise.” Ben’s gaze fell to the ground and you were quick to place a finger under his chin, drawing his attention back to you.

“You’re here now,” you smiled “Dr Strange…” You teasingly smirked and ran your fingers over his costume.

Benedict let out a bashful chuckle “Yeah…” He drew out “I came straight from filming. I arrived in London yesterday and we started filming straight away. I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You smiled and propped yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek “You’re here now, that’s all that matters…and you got a private show.” Ben felt his cheeks burn when your lips left his skin and especially when you winked at him after the words 'private show’ left your mouth.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered and moved closer to you.

You look down to your outfit and shrugged, lacing the delicate fabric between your fingers. “We have very talented costume desig-”

“No,” Ben cut you off “You look beautiful…” He trailed off and cupped your face with his scared hands, which you knew was special effect makeup. “Always…” He leaned forward and passionately crashed his mouth to yours. You couldn’t help but moan as he intertwined his fingers with your hair. He pulled back leaving your lips slightly swollen and tingling “How was that kiss?” He asked with a small smirk, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Amazing…I’ve wanted that for so long,” you softly whispered and peppered your lips across his own.

“Better than kissing David Tennant?” He asked, standing up straight with a serious look on his face.

“Much better,” you hummed.

“Good,” Benedict sent you a half smirk “I may have lightly threatened him not to kiss you that good.”

“Ben!” You burst out laughing and playfully slapped his chest. He laughed along with you and wrapped his arms around you.

“Do you want to come back to mine for dinner?” He asked with eyes full of hope.

“I’d love that.”

—-

“Benedict! Y/N! Benedict! Over here!” A hoard of paparazzi and press kept calling your name.

“They’re going to have a field day with us…” You gritted out with a smile directed in the direction of the cameras.

“I know,” Ben spoke to you in the same fashion “Spend five minutes with them then I’ll get you back to the hotel to get that dress off you…” He seductively trailed off.

“Ben…” You warned with a smirk.

It had been a few years since Ben kissed you back in the globe theatre and since then you both had been inseparable. You talked to a few journalists while Ben stood next to you, talking to others. “Firstly Y/N congratulations on your Olivier award for your role as Cleopatra in Antony and Cleopatra, secondly how are you enjoying the D23 Expo?”

You smiled and answered “Thank you so much! It’s absolutely amazing being here! I’ve loved meeting everyone and of course watching the Infinity War trailer. I’ve asked Ben countless of times for spoilers but he never tells me!” You laughed.

“You’re a big fan of Doctor Strange aren’t you?” The interviewer asked and you nodded “What other roles did you enjoy Benedict in?”

“Oh The Hobbit and obviously Sherlock. I love watching him work, it’s such an honour.” You smiled adoringly at the blue eyed man by your side.

“Does he attempt to deduce things when he’s not playing Sherlock?”

You let out a laugh and Ben glanced over to you with a gushing smile. “No!” You replied “Thankfully not! I mean he can barely say the word penguin so-”

“Hey!” He cut you off and placed both hands on your side making you jump “You said you’d never bring that up…” He sent a fake pout in your direction, one that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Sorry!” You defensively held your hands up “Sorry darling!”

The interviewer laughed “So are you planning on making Y/N Mrs Cumberbatch anytime soon?” The interviewer pressed.

You and Ben both let out nervous chuckles before you were both cut off by a voice “No! She’s becoming Mrs Robert Downey Jr!” Robert called from behind the both of you and you all burst out laughing.

“No she’s not!” Chris hollered “She’s going to be called Mrs Evans and we’ve already agreed to adopt Tom Holland!”

“No we haven’t! Plus I think Ben wants to adopt him!” You shouted back with a laugh. You felt Ben’s hand come around and gently brush across your stomach.

“I don’t think we’d have the space, love.” You smiled hearing the soft, whispering tone that lingered around your ear. “Sorry folks!” Ben waved “we’ve got to go!”

You walked off with him to a car “How long do you think it will take them to figure out we married in secret Mr Cumberbatch?”

“I’d give it a few months,” he let out a snort of laughter and pressed a kiss to your temple “Mrs Cumberbatch.”

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emulateharry · 7 years

Text

story of my life: Dunkirk Extra

“I’m going to miss you,” Kacey whispered against Harry’s chest as hd her close.

“I’m going to miss you, too but it’s not for long and I won’t be too far away. Maybe I can come home one weekend,” he replied, stroking her hair.

Harry felt Kacey shudder slightly and heard a soft sob.

“I feel like I just got you back and now I’m losing you again!” she wailed.

She was trying to be calm. She really didn’t want to make this harder than it already was but she couldn’t hold back the tears. Kacey had known he was scheduled to leave for Dunkerque to film the movie. She knew it was a tremendous opportunity for him and that he had worked hard to win the role. Harry was excited about the part and had been preparing for weeks. He had even cut his hair, capturing the whole thing on film, moving and still, for a documentary and a magazine layout. Kacey knew all that but it didn’t make it any easier for her to say goodbye to him.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard and tried to compose herself. She looked up at Harry, staring at his face as if to memorize his features. He smiled at her and gently thumbed her tears away before bending to place a kiss on her trembling lips.

“I love you, Kassidy. I won’t be gone long, I promise,” he said. “I have to go now baby or I’ll miss the train.”

Kacey struggled to put on her brave face and force a small smile to her lips. She managed, but only just.

“I love you, Harry. Be safe and please let me know when you get there.”

“Always, baby.”

With a last soft kiss, he picked up his bag and headed out to the car where Andy was holding the door open for him. * Kacey headed straight to the small gym at the back of the house. She popped in her earbuds and turned on the treadmill, determined to ‘exercise’ her demons away. Her brain kept a running commentary over the sound of her One Direction playlist as she walked briskly.

‘You knew he had to leave. Why did you make it harder than it had to be?’

‘It’s a Christopher Nolan film for goodness sake, not an episode of some cheesy TV series.’

‘You’re supposed to be supportive. Get a grip!’

Her phone buzzed insistently, interrupting the mental diatribe. It was a text from Harry.

“Hey baby. I’m on the train. I love you.”

She smiled and sent a response. She could do this. She had plenty to keep her busy while he was gone. She had wanted to go with him but, while he didn’t say no, she knew he was worried that she might distract him. He was nervous, and she did not want to make it worse. It wasn’t even going to be that long but it was their first separation since the attack. Kacey wasn’t really afraid to be home alone, she just wanted to be with Harry. He was her happy place.

Finishing up her workout, she turned off the treadmill before heading to the kitchen for a bottle of water. Sipping slowly while looking out the window at the rare sunshine, she decided to sit outside for a bit at the table in the courtyard. Snagging her laptop from the desk in the sitting room, she headed out the doors.

Kacey sat on a chaise longue next to the fountain. The sun, warm on her face, invited her to nap and she closed her computer, placing it on the table.

* Harry was feeling good. The filming was going well and they had just completed some difficult scenes before breaking for a three-day weekend. He planned to do a lot of sleeping, relaxing and studying his lines over the next few days. He hadn’t spoken with Kacey the last several days. She had some week-long writer’s event in Scotland that she was attending. She had, apparently, agreed to be the guest speaker some months ago otherwise he would have asked her to come to France and visit him. He was disappointed but he understood; they both had obligations.

This evening he was having dinner with Aneurin, Fionn, Tom, and Ken Branagh at Ken’s invitation. They walked into Le Table de Cha’ to be greeted by the host and owner. Harry had eaten there several times since he had been in Dunkirk but this was the first chance he’d had to talk with Ken. They had no scenes together and only had time to exchange simple pleasantries as they passed each other on the set. Sir Kenneth was a legend and Harry was looking forward to this dinner.

The host showed them to a table in a small private room in the restaurant. He handed them the menus and went off to alert the waitress that they had arrived.

Harry was listening intently to a story that Ken was telling about working on Harry Potter when the waitress bustled in. She was a middle aged woman with dark brown hair pulled into a bun and a lively smile. In rough English she introduced herself as Amelie before explaining that she was training a new girl who would be taking their dinner orders, if they didn’t mind. All four replied that of course they didn’t and turned back to their conversation as she left.

Amelie returned to serve the bread and the first bottle of wine then quietly left the room. They had almost finished the first glass when the waitress returned with her trainee in tow. Amelie introduced her as Giselle and informed them that while the young woman spoke little English she would be happy to translate if necessary. Fionn, Aneurin, and Tom were looking at Giselle, entranced, while Harry and Ken were sitting with their backs to her. Harry was engrossed with his menu as she began to speak.

Harry was listening carefully to Giselle’s mellifluous voice and working to translate what she was saying as he continued to peruse the menu. He glanced up to see Fionn and Aneurin staring at her, mouths slightly agape. He was about to turn around to look when her words came from very close behind him. She was relating the evening’s dessert, a ‘chocolat religieuse avec ganache et crème’, which sounded positively seductive in her accent. Harry shifted in his seat. Giselle paused briefly before moving to describe the daily special.

Harry tensed when he felt her hand on his shoulder, his frown reflecting his dismay at the unwelcome touch.

“Le plat du jour, pour Monsieur Harry seulement,” she paused briefly before leaning close to him and finishing “is me.”

Fionn and Aneurin sat blinking in surprise as Ken smiled into his menu. Harry, resigned, turned to Giselle only to see Kacey’s smiling face.

“Surprise.”

He almost knocked his chair over in his haste to stand and pull her into his arms.

“What?? How are you here?” he croaked as he hugged her tightly.

Ken was smiling broadly and Amelie clapped her hands with glee watching the two.

“Took some planning and a lot of work with a dialect coach. Ken helped me maneuver you here.”

Harry looked from one to the other of them with a bemused expression. Suddenly remembering his manners, he introduced Kacey to Fionn, Tom and Aneurin. She greeted them then turned to hug Amelie before taking the seat next to Harry.

“How do you know each other?” Harry asked, looking from Kacey to Ken.

“I met him at the Terrier premiere. He and Chris worked on ‘Jack Ryan’ together,” Kacey explained.

“Yes, I was fortunate to meet your charming girlfriend. When she called me to set this up, I thought it was the least I could do,” Ken said, still smiling.

Amelie came back with a second bottle of wine and remained to take their orders as Harry poured Kacey a glass.

The dinner was wonderful and the conversation sparkling but Harry was anxious to get Kacey back to his room. After the coffee and dessert he began making excuses and 15 minutes later they were on their way to his room. Immediately upon closing the door behind them, Harry turned to her and kissed her deeply. Palms holding her cheeks, fingers entwined in her hair, he kissed her until they were both breathless.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Kacey whispered as she unfastened the few buttons on his shirt then moved to divest him of his trousers.

“I’ve missed you too, baby” he managed between kisses as he lifted her dress over her head, pleasantly surprised that she was naked underneath.

Kacey put her arms around his neck and jumped; Harry catching her as she wrapped her legs around him. Mouths joined, he walked over to the bed and lowered her gently to the mattress. Their first lovemaking did not last long, the three weeks separation left them primed and ready, but it was a relief to be able to touch one another again. They lay in the moonlight streaming in from the windows, skin to skin, talking and kissing and reconnecting until Kacey had to pee. Harry, teasing her for her ‘tiny bladder’, followed her to the bathroom and turned on the taps running a bath while she took care of business. He lit a couple of candles and tossed in a bath bomb before turning to hold Kacey’s hand as she climbed into the tub. The scent of jasmine and clary sage filled the small room wafting from the steaming water. Kacey sat down and leaned back against Harry as they snuggled in the delicate pink water. Gentle kisses and sweet caresses in the candlelight and Kacey felt like she was in a dream. Being with Harry was always like that, as if the lines between reality and fantasy blurred and they were somehow transported to a private cocoon where the world could not reach them. Kacey did her best to savor those moments and lock them away in her mind to take out and replay them when they were apart.

The water had cooled and their fingers and toes had begun to prune when they climbed out of the water. After drying off with the plush towels from the warmer, Harry took Kacey’s fingertips and led her back to the bed. She climbed into it, leaning back into the pillows as he reached to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He wanted ample light to see the beauty of his girl and to see her face when her pleasure became too much for her. Gently pressing her knees apart, he slid his nose up the inside of her thighs until he reached the apex. Planting a soft kiss on her lower lips, he used his fingers to spread them and looked at her and sighed. “There’s my beautiful petal.” Kacey smiled down at him and stroked his hair with her fingertips. Harry wasted no more time and began to devour her with lips and tongue and teeth, the stubble on his chin providing a sensual scratching. He stopped only to lift Kacey’s thighs over his shoulders and scoot her hips down so that he could get to even more of her. Probing deeply with his tongue and running his nose over her clit he heard her gasp and call his name as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Harry licked her through it then crawled up her until he could line his cock up with her entrance. Sliding into her soft swollen walls that encased him snugly, he moaned at the feeling. Leaning down to kiss Kacey he began a slow rhythm using his entire length, her hips moving in time with his, ensuring that he reach her depths. Kacey was undulating beneath him and the noises she made spurred him to move faster. He was digging his fingers into the fleshy part of her hips lifting her up to meet him when he heard her whisper “Harder, please Harry. Harder.” Pausing for only a moment to lift her feet and place them on his shoulders, he obliged. Kacey groaned as he filled her again and again. Looking down to watch himself disappear inside her, hearing her mewls and groans sent him over the edge and he came with shout of her name. Kacey was right behind and he could feel the pulsing of her orgasm in time with his own. Once their breathing had returned to normal, they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Harry awoke to the covers being pulled off of him, the cool air washing over him and making his skin pebble. He opened his eyes to see his beautifully naked girlfriend on her knees smiling down at him.

“What are you up to, minx?” he croaked at her.

Her wide smile gave him a hint as she proceeded to wake him in her favorite way; her lips and tongue and throat hitting all his pleasure spots as she coaxed an orgasm from him. Harry obliged and, arching his back, he felt the release and the pressure of Kacey’s tongue as she sucked him clean. Licking her lips to catch a droplet that had managed to escape her mouth, she smiled at him again as he pulled her down to kiss her.

“I love you, Kassidy.”

“As I love you, Harry.”

“Good morning!” Harry greeted as he and Kacey entered the reserved room in the restaurant. Fionn, Aneurin, and Tom were already seated and drinking tea.

The men at the table took note of Harry’s messy hair and the light flush of Kacey’s cheeks as they joined them for le petit dejeuner.

“I didn’t expect to see you two all weekend!” Fionn smirked at them. Kacey gave him a shrewd look as she sat in the chair Harry held for her. She waited for him to sit beside her before responding.

“Well, young Fionn, when one is running a marathon, one needs sustenance. Seven calories and a couple of grams of protein simply will not suffice,” she said daintily as she placed her napkin in her lap.

Fionn just gave her a blank look, the meaning of her words not registering immediately. Aneurin, after a beat, choked on his tea and Tom burst into laughter. When Kacey looked at Harry he was giving her a stern look.

“What?”

Harry raised his eyebrows and continued to look at her.

“He started it!”

Harry, still giving Kacey the look, inclined his head towards Fionn who had finally realized what she meant and was blushing profusely.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Fine.” Turning to Fionn, Kacey huffed out a breath and said, in a petulant voice, “Fionn, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. Please don’t judge Harry for his girlfriend’s rudeness.” Turning back to Harry she said “Are you happy now?”

She glared at his smug expression for a moment before they both started laughing.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, smiling affectionately.

“I was hoping that you would keep me,” she replied, gazing at him through her lashes.

“Oh, I plan to,” he murmured as he leaned forward to kiss her.

* After breakfast, Harry asked Kacey if she wanted to see the set. She agreed excitedly and they went back to their room for credentials before setting off to the restricted area. On the way Harry talked about the history of the area and pointed out spots of interest. At the security gate, he greeted the guard by name and thanked him as he let them into the set.

Holding her hand, Harry led Kacey through the warren of trailers and and equipment to the beach. Walking out from the wharf onto the sand, the wind whipped up making Kacey shiver beneath her jumper. Harry pulled her closer, quietly telling her the story of the evacuation as written by Chris Nolan. They walked slowly, watching the waves churn before crashing onto the shore. Kacey stopped and looked at the recreated mole, imagining the men trapped on the pier. She stood holding tightly to Harry, trying to take it all in. She could feel the desperation and fear of the men trapped on the beach, the intense yearning to get home. Imagining Harry as one of them was overwhelming and she began to cry. Her own loneliness and longing for him feeding the emotions, she clung to him fiercely as she sobbed. Harry held her close and stroked her, murmuring soothingly until she regained her composure. They stood watching the sea until Kacey began to shiver.

Harry led her to the craft service in a section of one of the warehouses. While the actors had a three day break, there was none for the crew. Dozens of people were gathered at the tables eating and talking on their lunch break. Harry greeted each by name and introduced Kacey. A security guard in his mid-50s was seated at a table alone and Harry asked if he and Kacey could join him.

“I’d be delighted Harry-bo,” he replied with a grin.

Harry grimaced slightly and shook his head. He introduced the man as ‘John’ and held Kacey’s chair for her before walking over to the craft table to get some tea and a small snack.

Kacey turned to John and asked “Harry-bo?”

“Yes. It seems that your young man is partial to the gummy bears,” he explained with a laugh. “He went through so many bags of them that it was a natural nickname.”

Kacey was laughing as Harry returned and set down her tea. “You had to tell her, didn’t you?” Harry accused John.

“Aw now, it’s one of the things we love about you, Harry-bo. Makes you more like one of us and not some global superstar that no one can talk to,” John placated.

Smiling and shaking his head Harry responded, “I’m not some global super---”

“Denying it doesn’t make it untrue young man,” John interrupted. Turning to Kacey he added, “He is also quite partial to the oreos.”

“Why thanks for telling all my secrets, John,” Harry was smiling through a slight blush as Kacey held his hand.

They sat talking with John for a few more minutes before he had to get back to work. After cleaning up their mess, Harry led her on a tour of all the pertinent spots on the set. Seeing Kacey stifling a yawn, he started to head back to the hotel. Just as they reached the entrance, the clouds released the rain that they had been holding and they ran the last few feet into the building. Once in their room they snuggled down for a nap, the wind gusts sending the rain pelting against the windows, the sound lulling them to sleep.

* True to Fionn’s prediction, no one but room service saw them for the next two days. They spent the time attached to one another in every way they could think of. They were touching constantly and making the most of the time that kept racing away. Monday evening, Kacey was packing up her things, but it was difficult. Damn it. She did not want to be separated from him again. In the bathroom collecting her toiletries she gave herself a stern talking to in the mirror over the sink.

She was determined to leave gracefully so that he could remember her smiling and not all blotchy and teary and red. It took every ounce of strength she had, but she managed. She kissed him, held him and told him again that she loved him. Then she picked up her bag and breezed through the door and down the stairs and through the lobby into the waiting car. She didn’t cry until she was on the train. As they pulled out of the station Kacey promised herself that she wasn’t letting him go away without her again anytime soon.

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