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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

The Colour of Waiting is Purple

Summary: Spencer's just trying to get home as quickly as possible when a bad decision to take a shortcut down a back alley leaves him broken and bleeding into the night. // Hotch thinks it's a new case when his phone rings at 3 in the morning. It isn't.

Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, physical assault, major character injury, hospitals, dad hotch, hurt spencer, angst with a happy ending, eventual fluff

TW: graphic descriptions of violence // physical assault (no rape/non-con)

Pairing: Gen, Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Disclaimer: I'm sure there are some medical inaccuracies here, everything I know comes from google, whump tumblr blogs, and my embarrassing obsession with medical dramas. I also have no knowledge of the US medical system aside from what I know from the aforementioned sources so excuse any issues there.

Spencer doesn’t think anything of it when he leaves work at his usual time, the clock pushing midnight and the offices deserted. He packs his few personal belongings up and turns off his lamp before nodding to the janitor, the only other person to be seen, and taking the elevator down to the ground floor where there’s a little more sign of human life at least.

As soon as he steps out into the crisp winter air, he feels the exhaustion of working close to 18 hours straight on far too little sleep hit him. They haven’t even been working a case, he just gets so caught up in his reports and consults that he doesn’t notice the hours whizzing by until he looks up and the bullpen is deserted, dark except for his desk lamp.

Inevitably when spending the day at the office dealing with banalities, he finds something that captures his interest. It tends to send him on a trawl through the internet — or, occasionally, to another part of the building — looking it up in every journal he buys a subscription to until that itch is scratched.

The others always gently touch his shoulder or call out to him as they leave, which he tends to hear about 50% of the time, and Hotch especially tries to make him leave at a more sensible time, but he can’t help the way his brain works. Once it latches onto something it’s not letting go until it’s satisfied.

His feet carry him to the Metro station while his brain absently thinks over his most recent fixation, and soon enough he’s at his stop and back in DC. The streets are slightly more lively in the city, and the noise and light snap him back to reality enough to remind him of his bone-deep fatigue. He usually walks down the main streets to get to his apartment building, occasionally catching a bus if he’s earlier than usual or a cab if he’s later, but tonight he’s just longing for a quick microwave meal, a shower, and his bed. So, he dips down an alleyway and takes the shortcut home.

It’s stupid.

He knows pretty much every statistic there is to know about his city, and at the forefront of his brain are those concerning crime. DC has one of the highest crime rates in America, and a person’s chances of being a victim is 1 in 18, and although it’s slightly lower in Adams Morgan which is one of the safest, violent crimes are still 36% higher than the national average. This is decidedly increased when you take stupid risks like walking through the backstreets in the dead of night when you’re on your own.

Sadly, this does not occur to Spencer before he’s deep in the back streets of the city, being slammed ruthlessly against a wall by two men he didn’t see coming.

He’s winded immediately, and before his brain can catch up with what’s happening, a knife is being held dangerously close to his neck. All his self-defence training, all the moves Derek had spent hours teaching him when he’d first joined the BAU fly out the window and he can only breathe heavily with what he knows must be a terrified expression on his face.

“Well, well, well,” the man holding the knife leers, his arid breath hitting Spencer’s face, “look what we have here.”

The other man doesn’t speak. He’s stood slightly further back, arms crossed as he stares Spencer down. Although he’s physically the lesser threat right now, something about him has ice pooling in Spencer’s stomach.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, you fucking pansy,” he continues, pushing Spencer further into the wall, pain blossoming across his body, “you’re gonna let us look through your gay ass purse, and we’re gonna take whatever we want from it. And then, you’re gonna let Paulie here do whatever he wants to you. He’s had a real bad day, and a pathetic little queer like you is just the punching bag he needs, you hear me?”

It’s all Spencer can do to nod his head frantically. He wants to open his mouth, to negotiate, to talk them down, but this is nothing like when he’s faced with the FBI’s most wanted. He’s in control there, he’s on his turf, his playing field, it’s his game and he knows every rule, every bylaw, every exception.

Right now, he’s completely at these men’s mercy.

“Paulie, take his bag.” The man doesn’t take his eyes off Spencer’s face, scanning his expression and body language for any sign he’s about to bolt, for any reason to put his knife to work.

He tries to calm himself down a little, enough to catch his breath at least. He’s taken countless beatings throughout his life, he knows how to survive, just… please, don’t let it be anything more. It’s all Spencer dares to hope for.

The other man steps forward and snatches his messenger bag, unceremoniously dumping the contents of his bag on the pavement. Spencer’s just grateful that he doesn’t have anything in there that hints towards his career. He knows this type: they’re intimidating but they’re easily scared. Right now, he’s a weak twenty-something on his way home, he’s not a threat to them, but who knows what they’d do to him if they realised he’s a fed?

They take his wallet and his phone before they rummage through his pockets to find some spare cash. His badge is tucked in an inner pocket in his blazer and his Quantico ID is still hanging around his neck, hidden under his scarf, blazer, and thin overcoat; he’s so glad he never took it off.

An icy tear drips down his face as he stands there, pressed against the wall, awaiting his fate. All he wants right now is to be back at home. No, that’s not right. All he wants right now is Hotch. As soon as the thought of his father-figure crosses his mind, the tears start flowing faster, desperate to feel safe again, knowing Hotch is the only person to really let him feel that way.

The man holding the knife has turned to watch Paulie sift through his bag and rummage through his pockets, but as soon as his steely grey eyes return to Spencer’s face, his face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Aw, are you crying?” he mocks, starting to laugh. “Are the big bad men making you feel scared? You gonna run home to Mommy?”

He knows that it’s exactly what the man wants, but he can’t stop the tears from devolving into full-blown sobs at his words. The whole terrifying experience, the implications, the realisations of what might be coming for him in the next few minutes start to catch up to him and he’s violently shaking as he cries uncontrollably.

“You’re pathetic,” the man spits, releasing his grip on him slightly, letting Spencer’s shaky legs collapse under him and send him crashing towards the ground. “He’s all yours, Paulie. I’m gonna enjoy this.”

His position is quickly taken over by Paulie as the other man leans against a dumpster close by to watch the show, and Spencer looks up at the intimidating man with fear blazing in his eyes as he hangs in purgatory, knowing the hell that’s about to rain down on him.

Paulie doesn’t take long to get started and he doesn’t hold back, his sturdy, black boots kicking him relentlessly in the stomach and his thighs before moving up to his chest, slamming the toe of his boots into each individual rib. Spencer can hear the other man laughing maniacally over the sound of his own bones breaking, over his own choked pleas for mercy, but it’s like Paulie doesn’t hear either of them. His face is blank as he gives Spencer the beating of his life, and it only makes him more terrifying.

He quickly gets bored of kicking Spencer and bends down to yank him up by his scarf, only to land a hard, brutal punch on his jaw, then his cheek, then his nose before dropping him down again, this time so his back is vulnerable, at the mercy of Paulie’s cruel feet.

The torture continues for a few more minutes, and Spencer doesn’t know how no-one hears his desperate cries, but they’re left alone in the alley as he coughs up blood and feels his bones break under the tread of Paulie’s boots. He’s deprived of air as his chest is stood on, as his windpipe is crushed, but finally, finally it’s over.

“I’m bored,” Paulie grunts, giving Spencer one last brutal kick to the base of his back before walking over to the other man. They both saunter off down the alleyway, not casting a single look back at Spencer lying curled up on the ground, surrounded by his own blood.

Soon, the men have left, and he’s alone with only his ragged, painful breaths for company. He can hear the hoots of a bachelor party just a street over, but no-one’s coming to save him. No-one else is stupid enough to venture down the backstreets of DC. Not with crime rates like those of their city. Not in the small hours of the morning. Not alone.

He doesn’t even have his phone to call for help.

⭐️

Hotch expects it to be work when he picks up the phone at 3am. By the time he’s sat up in bed and sliding the bar on his phone to answer it, he’s already half in work-mode, ready to call Jessica and drive Jack over before racing into work to beat the others on the team. He can already taste his first coffee of the day.

“Hello, is this Aaron Hotchner?”

It isn’t work.

“Uh, yes,” he says hesitantly, shifting upright a little further, sleep-addled mind trying to guess who the caller could possibly be, “speaking.”

“Hi, my name is Mary Kutner, I’m calling from George Washington University Hospital. I have you down as Spencer Reid’s emergency contact, is that correct?”

Hotch’s heart plummets, and he leaps out of bed immediately, ready to get dressed as the shock wakes him up. “That’s correct. What’s happened?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge much information over the phone, sir, but we’ll need you to come to the hospital urgently.”

He isn’t usually an emotional person, but he can feel tears springing to his eyes already. Spencer is a surrogate son to him, and knowing he’s hurt without knowing what he can actually do about it is an atrocious feeling. Please don’t let me watch another member of my family die, is all he can think as he tries to gain enough composure to reply to the nurse on the other end of the line.

“Can you tell me his condition?” he asks, somehow managing to get the words past the lump in his throat.

“He’s currently in theatre, sir,” Mary replies as gently as one can in such a professional tone. “If you come down to the hospital and report to the ER a doctor will be able to tell you more. I’ll need you to bring identification with you, please.”

“Okay,” he breathes, trying to keep as calm as possible, “okay. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be right there.”

He throws the phone on the bed as he finishes throwing his clothes on. He packs two bags: one for him (mostly filled with things Spencer might need) and one for Jack, pulls on his coat and shoes before creeping into his son’s room and lifting him out of bed gently, carrying him down to the car.

Jack is a heavy sleeper — he frequently wakes up the next morning tucked in his room at Jessica’s, sometimes in the car on the way — and he’s endlessly thankful for that now. Explaining why he’s dashing out of the flat with a panicked look on his face to a seven-year-old is a conversation he’s glad to avoid.

He rings Jessica on the way who, used to his early morning calls waking her up, has no problem with looking after Jack.

Somehow, he manages to make it to the hospital only forty-five minutes later, and he didn’t even have to park illegally. Thank God the hospital is at least a little quieter in the dead of night.

“Hi, I’m Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid’s emergency contact,” he explains shakily to the woman at the front desk, laying down his FBI identification bag down as ID. He could use his driving licence, sure, but… if knowing they’re FBI agents will make any difference to Spencer’s care then he doesn’t give a damn if this could be construed in some way as abuse of his position. He’d rather lose his job than lose his son.

“Oh, hi Agent Hotchner,” the woman says with a tone of recognition, glancing at his ID before typing something into her computer, “I’m Mary Kutner, I spoke to you on the phone. Dr Reid is still in surgery but I’ll go and find a doctor who can explain the situation to you.”

He nods absently, face stern and pinched as furious anxiety toils inside him. He feels like the last forty-five minutes have been a daze, and now the bright lights and noisy machines and bustling action of the Emergency Department at a major trauma centre are slowly snapping him out of it, the implications of ‘urgent’ and ‘surgery’ and it being the middle of the damn night finally catching up to him.

Some number of minutes pass by — he’s too anxious and caught in his head to keep track of the linear passage of time right now — before he’s approached by a young doctor, wearing a mask carefully constructed of confident professionalism and reassuring compassion.

“Agent Hotchner?” She’s clarifying uselessly, she knows it’s him. He knows she probably has to confirm for some stupid HIPAA rule, but he just wants to know what happened goddamnit.

“Yes,” he replies shortly, “what’s happened to Spencer?”

He doesn’t miss her almost perfectly concealed wince, and he feels his stomach sink further. “He was involved in an assault on his way home from work. A passer-by found him in a back road not far from the hospital and called for an ambulance. Luckily we got him into surgery quickly. Upon admission’s initial assessment, he had a ruptured spleen, a collapsed lung, a double kidney contusion, and he suffered a pelvic fracture along with multiple broken ribs, a fractured jaw and cheekbone, and several severe breaks in his left forearm, wrist, and hand.”

Hotch stares at the doctor in disbelief as she lists Spencer’s injuries: he feels like he’s going into shock. How could anyone want to hurt the sweetest person he’s ever met? How could anyone be so brutal? He’s worked with serial killers for nearly two decades and still, nothing could prepare him for this. He sits down in the seat behind him as the world spins, his brain trying to piece everything together.

“Are you alright, sir?” the doctor asks, sitting down in the seat next to him. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“What?” He turns to look at her before her words sink in and he realises what she asked. “Oh. No, I’m fine… I— is he going to be okay?” As soon as the first tear spills down his cheek, he can’t stop them from falling one after another, dripping down his face in his most public display of emotion since Haley died.

“He’s going to need a lot of care,” she reasons, “he’ll need to stay in hospital for at least a week depending on the outcome of the surgery, but we have every reason to believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

“What’s— what’s the surgery for?” He feels like he’s having an out of body experience.

“They’ll address the internal bleeding first by either fixing or removing the spleen and making sure we didn’t miss anything else on the scans. The surgeon will also assess the damage to Spencer’s kidneys and make sure they aren’t contributing to the internal bleeding. They’ll address the pelvic fractures and the collapsed lung as well. You need to understand that Spencer may need further surgery and he’ll definitely need very close monitoring over the coming weeks and months.”

“What about his broken bones?” Hotch asks. “How bad is it?”

She sighs. “They’re bad,” she admits. “The pelvic fractures are likely going to have a big impact on his mobility, and he won’t have the use of his left arm for a long time. We’re looking at a long recovery, Agent Hotchner. But we have every reason to believe that he will eventually recover.”

She pats him comfortingly on the hand before getting up. “Someone will fetch you as soon as he’s out of surgery.”

It’s not until she’s halfway across the waiting room that he realises she never even told him her name.

It’s close to 8am by the time a surgeon walks over to him, still dressed in scrubs. There’s a smudge of blood on his shirt and Hotch winces at the knowledge that it’s Spencer’s.

“How is he?” he asks, leaping up. He doesn't want any screwing around. He just wants to know if Spencer’s going to be okay.

“He’s stable. The surgery went well. Unfortunately, we had to conduct a full splenectomy to stop his internal bleed which does put him at risk for serious infections, but otherwise, it’s good news. His kidneys will need support but should heal in a timely manner, and we were able to set the rib that punctured his lung and reinflate it, although we’re going to keep him on oxygen to be safe. His pelvis was severely fractured but we managed to reposition the displaced bone fragments and inserted a screw and metal plate to hold them together.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hotch sighs with relief. The worst, immediate threats have been dealt with, and it settles a small part of the anxiety he’s feeling.

“He’s in room 338 if you’d like to go and see him. He should be waking up shortly.”

⭐️

Wasting no time, he races up to Spencer’s floor where a nurse lets him onto the ward and leads him down to 338. He pushes the door open apprehensively, swallowing his emotion at the sight of the man he considers a son lying in a hospital bed. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s been rushed to the hospital, but it’s never been like this. It’s always after a case: Spencer knows the risks of the job, they all do, and he puts himself deliberately in harm's way for the sake of others.

This time, though… this time he was just walking home from work. This time he had no say in the matter.

His left arm is in a cast and his face is bruised and swollen, chestnut hair matted and tangled. Opening the bag he packed, he pulls out a comb and gently teases out the tangles until he can comb through the curls completely unobstructed. There are undoubtedly more knots at the back of his head, but those can wait until he’s woken up at least. It just makes him feel like he’s doing something.

It’s only when he sits down in the chair by his bed that he realises it’s Thursday morning now; he’s supposed to be at work today, they both are. No-one except Jessica knows what’s happened.

The first thing, he supposes, is to ring Strauss.

Once that’s out of the way and she knows that neither he nor Spencer will be in today and he’ll inform her of the latest updates as soon as possible, he messages Rossi. He’s the only one who will be able to remain objective enough to inform everyone, and he’s enough of a dad to the team to help manage everyone’s emotional responses.

Just as he hits send on the message, his head snaps up at Spencer’s quiet whimpering as he comes around.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” he says as soothingly as possible, “it’s okay, I’m here. You’re in the hospital. Are you in pain?”

Spencer blinks his eyes open blearily, wearing such a pained and vulnerable expression that it goes right to Hotch’s gut. He nods in response to his question, his good hand reaching to hold Hotch’s.

“Okay, there’s a PCA pump right here, I’ll turn it up a little. Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, tears springing to his eyes. Now he’s not in as much physical pain, Hotch knows this is pure emotion, and he thinks that’s somehow worse. Spencer’s been through a horrifying physical ordeal, but the emotional recovery is going to be just as gruelling and last years. If there’s one word he’d use to describe Spencer, though, it’s resilient.

He shushes him gently, bringing a hand to his hair and caressing it lightly. “I’m here,” he repeats. “You’re safe. I won’t leave you, okay?”

Spencer nods and relaxes into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he calms down a little.

“You rest now,” he murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Everything’s going to be okay.”

They’ll deal with the fall-out later. They’ll deal with the team coming to visit, with the paperwork for his sick leave and the frustration of government bureaucracy. They’ll manage their way through processing the trauma of what happened to him, the physical, mental, and occupational implications of the assault. They’ll stay glued at the hip while Spencer’s interviewed by the police, while doctors explain to him just how serious his injuries are.

Right now, though, Spencer will sleep and Hotch will sit by his bedside watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to every steady beep on the heart rate monitor, searing the living breathing proof that Spencer is alive into his mind. Spencer will sleep and Hotch will cry silently over the cruelty of the world, he’ll grieve for the man he said good-bye to 12 hours earlier, knowing he’ll never quite be the same again.

Spencer will sleep and Hotch will be there, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up again.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #criminal minds whump #whump #spencer reid whump #aaron hotchner #hotch #spencer reid #aaron hotchner & spencer reid #criminal minds gen #criminal minds gen fic #criminal minds angst #tw violence #tw assault #tw beating

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Patient Zero

Chapter One

Paring: Din Djarin/Imperial Reader

Word Count: 1,127

Warnings: No big ones, mentions of carbonite freezing, needles, and PTSD

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Working with the Empire as one of their researchers was, in theory, a boring job. At least, right up until you were assigned the mysterious Patient Zero. With no records, no data, and no name, he may as well not exist. But he’s much more than meets the eye, and you’re about to find that out the hard way.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 1 of 4.

You saw patients all day long aboard the Imperial medi-ship, but none were as intriguing as Patient Zero.

Patient Zero had, to your knowledge, once been a hard to catch high priority bounty, but the bounty was removed suddenly under unknown circumstances. The Empire found him despite the missing bounty and, in their words, acquired him. He’d been horribly volatile and aggressive, and they’d had no choice but to freeze him in carbonite. Every so often, they’d unfreeze him, and he’d come out swinging, so they refroze him.

It was a process that gave you hives. Refreezing, especially in rapid succession like that, was incredibly dangerous. When Patient Zero did finally calm, he was entirely blind for three months and had difficulty moving by himself for almost four weeks. But he’d recovered well enough for you to take over. As one of the Empire’s leading researchers, they’d given you Patient Zero to focus on. Up until then, you’d studied him from afar, but the reassignment from basic medical to patient study meant that you’d have a very up close and personal relationship with Patient Zero.

He’d been stubborn at first, naturally. You could tell that beyond the blindness and the immobility was a warrior’s soul, although you couldn’t ID him to confirm a past. It was as if his face didn’t exist. So you’d resorted to the next best thing. Putting him in the database yourself.

Samples had been taken and tests had been run during your manual input, and you’d found something really interesting. Patient Zero wasn’t a Force sensitive individual by birth. But he’d been exposed to a powerful Force user for a long and regular amount of time, and that had altered his biological makeup to adapt him to the Force. In other words, he had forced his body to become Force sensitive. It was such a breakthrough that you’d almost not believed it. But numbers don’t lie.

You sighed, inputting another file entry. Recently, Patient Zero had requested a notebook and pencil, and you’d provided it. He wasn’t talkative at all, so you figured writing things down might help him. His journaling had given you glimpses of his past, despite every word being written in a language no one knew how to translate. He doodled a small Mudhorn on the corner of a few pages, and you had scanned the page to copy the drawing into his file. So he had traveled to or lived on Arvala-7. But not many saw a Mudhorn and lived to tell the tale.

The current entry to Patient Zero’s file was a scanned page in which there were no words, just drawings. The Mudhorn doodle, a mysterious two-tusked creature, a scratched out drawing of a creature with large ears and round eyes, a poor attempt at his own face, and a helmet with a curiously familiar design. It was the most hodgepodge collection of drawings, and yet, they told a story.

Hitting enter, you scooped up the newly printed file and shoved it in Patient Zero’s folder. Tucking the folder safely in a file cabinet, you left your office, intent on visiting your favorite patient.

One thing you’d learned about Patient Zero was that, despite his initial stubbornness and his clear instinct to fight, he never turned down food. Not even in the beginning, when he’d growled and fought like a starved animal. He’d always eaten everything, which, to you, meant that he knew the value of food. Either he’d been intentionally denied food, or he knew what it was like to simply not have more. Either way, he was now fed three solid meals a day, which was good for his body.

You carried two lunch trays into his room, smiling when you saw him where he always was. Sat at the desk with a book. The room was incredibly simplistic. Grey metal floor, lighter grey walls, basic white lights. A bed with no bed frame on one side of the room, covered in neatly folded white blankets and two pillows. A desk, two chairs, and a bookshelf, all slightly barren and white in color, on the other side of the room. A single door led to his bathroom, a tiny room with an unbreakable mirror, a toilet, a sink, and the base toiletries. It was mildly depressing, but Patient Zero never voiced his discomfort with the room.

You placed his lunch in front of him, settling down at the desk as well, using the spare chair. Patient Zero looked down at his food, then back up at you, a clear look of discontent on his face.

“I know it’s what we had yesterday,” you said, starting on the mystery meat on your tray. “But it’s what they had.”

Patient Zero shrugged and picked up his fork, slowly eating his vegetables first. You’d found that endearing, that he always ate his veggies first. You could almost imagine a child version of Patient Zero being chided for not eating his greens, leading to this learned trait.

You both ate in relative silence, not wanting to disturb the delicate bond you had. He didn’t hate you as much as he hated the troopers and the other scientists. But you were the only one who’d made a real effort to humanize him, giving him comforts and treating him well.

Finally, you could avoid it no longer. “You drew another Mudhorn,” you said softly, taking a bite of the unidentifiable mash of what you hoped was a starch. “Have you ever seen one?”

Patient Zero was quiet and still for a moment before softly saying, “I killed one.”

“I’m sorry?” To your knowledge, Mudhorns were nearly unkillable. It typically took a small army to even wound one. And yet, your incredible Patient Zero took one down, and by the way he said it, you assumed he did it alone.

Patient Zero’s mouth twitched in what you quickly learned was his version of a smile. He didn’t say another word about it.

After lunch, you two headed down to the labs for tests. Patient Zero reluctantly let the troopers follow, eyeing them warily the entire time.

“Lay down,” you instructed upon reaching the lab room. Patient Zero did, laying on his back on the raised white table.

“Good,” you murmured, positioning some of the machines that hung down from the ceiling. “This’ll pinch.”

Patient Zero didn’t move as the arm cuff began to take a blood sample. You’d been monitoring his m-count, surprised to see it holding steady despite not using or interacting with the Force. Today was, seemingly, not an exception.

You punched in the numbers, adjusting your coat and sighing. “You’re an extraordinary man,” you said softly down to your patient. “I just wish I knew who you were.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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mistymark · 4 years

Text

VIGILANTE/S IV

part four // 2.8k words // superpowered!au // (sort of) gang!au // series masterlist

summary; in which you consider yourself somewhat of a vigilante.

warnings; swearing, mentions of death, weapons and killing, gang shit really

notes; this fic is now 10k words and that's a personal record so damn

“I hear training was a success,” Doyoung says when he returns from Jaehyun’s ‘errand’.

You roll your eyes, your jaw set. You don’t look at him, focusing instead on the camera footage Mark had given you to watch. A notepad sat in your lap as you sat cross-legged on your bed, the computer in front of you. The footage was over 12 hours long, showing only a large gate leading to an estate that looked to be the size of a museum. The leader of the Red Crown lived there, you knew, and you were supposed to watch and record who was entering and exiting through the gate during the 12-hour time period.

“I’m being serious.” You finally look over at Doyoung, standing in the doorway, and the expression on his face almost resembles pride. He’s never been anything but serious, but he seems more playful now. “You beat Johnny.”

“He beat me about fifty times,” you deadpan, giving him a pointed look before shifting your attention back to your notepad. Doyoung walks in and looks around the room, as if it’s his first time seeing it – like it would help him understand you.

“What was your time?” He asks, his back to you.

“Fifteen twenty?” The worst fifteen minutes and twenty seconds of your life, probably. He looks at you, and for a moment you can’t read the expression on his face.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t say anything. Briefly turning his attention away from you, he stops to look at the drawings and photos attached to the wall, his face stoic again. He’s looking at the detailed sketches of weapons – disturbingly realistic, in your opinion – that adorn the wall by the door. The others were strangely anatomical – surprisingly accurate hand-drawn outlines of bodies were pinned against another bare wall. One had a skeleton, another vital organs, and one had the bloodstream mapped out beautifully. Hand-written notes were scribbled across the paper – you’d attempted to read them but the messy scrawl was illegible.

“What’s this?” When he turns around, you hold up one of the leather-bound journals you’d found on the bedside table. It was quite possibly the creepiest thing you’d ever read. One of the entries had just read, January 16th, tried knives again. Sixteen stab wounds. Mostly torso, though heart was avoided. Twelve hours exactly. Another, only two days later, was simply: January 18th, bullet between the eyes (removed). 6.4mm. Four hours.

You’d wondered if the owner was an interrogator like Doyoung – or just a torturer. Part of you was glad you hadn’t had the opportunity to meet him. From what it appeared, none of the others really missed him, either.

Doyoung furrows his eyebrows, “Don’t read that. It’s personal.”

“The guy’s dead.”

You’re unsure if Doyoung hears you, as he chooses to focus on the pictures on the walls once again. Your personal favourite was in the closet, attached to the inside of the door, otherwise hidden from sight. It was a mix of charcoal and red paint, barely resembling a face, but it felt more personal than the ones on the walls, tucked away in the closet where no one would see. It wasn’t nearly as detailed or clear as the other posters, and you had stared at it for almost two minutes before realising what it was.

“The first time Donghyuck fought Johnny, he didn’t even get a time.” Doyoung’s voice sounds far away as he recalls the memory. You wish he hadn’t blocked you from using his powers so that you could see whatever he was remembering.

“What about you?”

“About fifteen seconds.” He snorts at your expression. “Don’t be discouraged.” His attention suddenly moves to the door, and you follow his gaze, though nothing is there. With a nod, he leaves.

You’re left alone again, and you wonder what it is with these boys and never saying goodbye.

You’ve managed to speed up the footage just enough to make your task bearable but have to pause it when a familiar black van enters the shot. It’s identical to the one you’d seen at the Den on the night you met the team, but the number plate is different. This number plate is familiar in a different way. Unlike every other vehicle that had passed through the gates, the driver’s window does not slide down. No ID card is able to be captured.

You know exactly who it is – the only person who can enter the estate without having to show credentials. The Red Prince.

Even though the footage is far too grainy to make out anything in the mirrors, you swear you can see his reflection. Eyes that stare directly into the camera, as if he knows you’re watching. You wonder if he knows he’s being watched, that a group of Supers had managed to hack into his security system.

The gate slides open wide, and the eyes disappear. You shiver.

“Y/n?” You’re shaken from your thoughts when a voice calls you from the other side of your door.

“Come in!”

“Wow,” Mark offers you a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Donghyuck never lets me in his room.”

“Well-,” you shrug, then hesitate. You realise you have no idea what to say to him. At least, you don’t have anything to say that isn’t insensitive. Clearing your throat, you push your notepad to the side, “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” his eyes scan the walls, taking in the inside of the room, “Johnny needs the notes from the security footage by tonight. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Thanks, Mark.” You can feel how tight your smile is, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He turns to leave, but just as the door’s about to close, he pops his head back inside the room, “Oh, by the way, don’t be worried about training today. Johnny was impressed.” He smiles. “Have a good night, y/n.”

It’s almost midnight by the time you get to the end of the footage. 14 vehicles entering, 10 leaving. And you know the licence plates and drivers of them all.

You feel uncomfortable watching the footage, being right at the gate but unable to enter. Your determination to get in there and take down the Red Crown is strong, frustration bubbling inside you. Everything they’re doing goes against what you believe in, and there’s something about your anger that makes you stand up and head to the kitchen. The walls of Jaehyun’s office are transparent again, and the light is on , even though you know he can’t see you, you freeze when his eyes snap up from his laptop.

It’s weird being unable to hear or see the other team members walking around, and the warehouse feels much emptier without them. Soft snoring makes you jump, and you smile at the sight of Jaemin passed out on a couch nearby, his breaths steady, though slightly too fast. Part of you was surprised by how fast he seemed to live his life, though he had told you he had to consciously slow himself down most of the time. “It’s like letting someone win in a race by running slower than them,” he’d explained. “You know you can go faster and beat them, but you don’t. Like constantly coming second place.”

“Does it get frustrating?” You’d asked.

“Almost unbelievably so,” he’d smiled at you, though you could see some inner turmoil behind his eyes.

When you’re filling a glass with water, Jaehyun steps out of his office, the door closing loudly, snapping you out of your thoughts. His feet are soft on the floor – you almost don’t hear him coming. “Can’t sleep?” He’s reaching for a mug on the shelf behind you, and you sidestep to move out of his way.

“I just needed to clear my head,” you swallow, and quickly take a drink of water as an excuse not to elaborate.

Jaehyun slides the mug under the coffee machine, and watches it whir to life. Only now can you read the words printed on the side, ‘World’s Greatest Boss’. You snort when you see it. He turns his head to look at you, and raises an eyebrow. There’s something different in the way he does it. Normally, when he does this, it’s questioning, analytical, intimidating. Now? You’d say it’s borderline flirtatious. It takes you a second to realise why it seems so different.

He’s standing in front of you, leaning over the counter top, waiting for his coffee – in sweatpants. He’s mindlessly biting the inside of his cheek, and you realise you’ve never noticed he has dimples. Probably because he never smiles.

“What?” He’s frowning slightly, but when he looks like this, it just looks cute. The furrow in his brow almost looks guarded, as if he’s worried you’re about to say something offensive.

“Uh,” you look down, collecting your thoughts, then a smile appears on your face. “Your mug, I-”

He looks down at it, and there’s the ghost of a smile on his face, “The first birthday present Johnny ever got me.”

“It’s…cute,” you say it more like a question than a compliment. A loud thud makes you both stand tall, staring into the darkness to make out any movement. There’s a quiet yawn, and the sound of retreating footsteps. You turn back to Jaehyun, and any emotion he’d displayed in the last two minutes was wiped from his face. His face is hard again, and he looks more like the man you’d seen earlier. He looks older, authoritative. “I’m gonna get some rest. I hear training tomorrow is going to be intense,” you offer him a smile.

His attention has moved from you again, staring into the darkness of the warehouse. He bids you goodnight without looking at you, carrying his coffee gently to his office, his mind somewhere else.

You leave your glass in the sink, promising yourself you’ll wash it in the morning, before making your way back to your room.

You can hear faint murmurs coming from another room, but the walls are so thick you can’t make out any of the words. Moving the laptop from your bed to the set of drawers next to the door, you prepare for bed.

The door suddenly bangs open, and a duffel bag is dropped onto the floor noisily. You gasp in shock and the person in the doorway looks just as surprised to see you. “Who are you?” He asks, frozen right there in the middle of the doorway.

“Y/n. Who-” His eyes are wide and calculating, searching the room.

“Well, what are you doing here, y/n?” He crosses his arms, looking at you skeptically.

“I’m part of the team. I-”

“I meant, what are you doing in my room?”

You’re struggling to keep up with the conversation at this point. You shake your head. “Your room – ? Wait, you’re Donghyuck? You’re dead.”

His gaze is fierce, “I was dead. I’m not anymore. Now, I’m tired. And I’d like to sleep in my own bed.” He walks into the room, rifling through the drawers of the dresser, looking for something.

Reaching out for his power, you can feel it thread through your body, though it’s more painful than invigorating, very different to most of the power you can feel in other Supers. “You’re immortal.”

“Obviously,” he doesn’t even turn around.

A lightbulb goes off in your head as the journals on the bedside table catch your attention, “So the journals – you… you were killing yourself?”

Donghyuck rounds on you, “You read my – ? Okay, you’re clearly new to the team. Rule number one; never read anyone’s journal.” At the confused look on your face, he rolls his eyes, “We all have them. You’ll get yours soon. To track your drawbacks; track your strength.”

You raise an eyebrow at him from where you’re sitting on your – his – bed. “Drawbacks?”

“Damn, okay. Rule number two; know your drawbacks. The limits of your power. We all have them. Jaemin’s is how much he has to eat and sleep. Chenle and Mark lack control.” He gestures to his journals before turning back to the drawers, “As you can see, mine is time. Takes a long time to come back to life.” You barely hear it when he mumbles, “Surprise, surprise.”

“You just kill yourself over and over again?”

“Pretty much.” He finds what he’s looking for but doesn’t take it out from the drawer. He turns to face you again, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed once again. “What do you do?”

“I mimic other people’s abilities.”

His eyebrows raise slightly and he whistles lowly in appreciation, but he doesn’t say anything. “Drawback?”

“Uh… I guess it’s distance. If they’re too far away, it’s like I can’t reach their power.”

He nods in understanding, then furrows his eyebrows, “Johnny will have you training with all of us, then. Have you done ability training yet?”

You shake your head.

“How long have you been here?”

“One day,” you shrug.

“Wait, you’re the one Doyoung brought in?”

You pause, then nod.

“Ah, Jeno killed me before we could meet, I guess.”

“Jeno killed you?!” Your voice is high and loud. Jeno was much stronger, much faster, much more skilled than you were. You had no chance against him if he ever decided you were his next target. Donghyuck’s eyes widen at the loud noise, and he crosses the room to shut the door, “Shit, calm down. I’m immortal – it’s not like it’s a big deal. Almost everyone here has killed me at least once, though he does hold the record.” The side of his mouth quirks up to the side in a smile that you would almost call cute. Maybe if he wasn’t talking about his friend murdering him, he’d be cute.

You don’t know what to say to that. “You’re insane.” That works.

He shrugs, “Jeno’s always been impatient.”

“So he just kills you. Logical.” The disbelief in your voice makes him laugh.

“Rule number three; never get Jeno angry. His drawback is his anger.”

“Holy shit, where were you when I joined? I could have used some of this information.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Well, first of all, I was dead. Then I had to go out of town for a day – and here I am.”

You nod, “Right.”

Donghyuck grabs his bag and turns it upside down onto the top of the bed. You aren’t quite sure what you were expecting to come out, but it certainly wasn’t guns. You wait for something – anything – normal to drop out, yet it seems like it’s just guns. At least fifteen of them, ranging in size. You don’t say anything.

He takes one look at your face and immediately explains, “I just bought them. Our weapons dealer is based in China – Winwin? He’s a friend of Jaehyun’s – and he just got into the city two days ago. Jaehyun made me go pick them up.” Under all the posters and sketches on the wall, the walls are painted a bright red, and the subtle blush on Donghyuck’s face almost matches them completely.

“I didn’t realise there was more of you,” you say.

“Us.” You look up in confusion, and he offers you a smile, “More of us.” He clears his throat, his attention going back to the weapons on the bed, “Yeah, Jaehyun has connections everywhere. Japan, China, you name it.”

Carefully, he places the guns in boxes and stacks them in the corner of his room. He brushes off his hands on his thighs, “Look, I’m happy to take the couch tonight, but don’t get any ideas. This is my room, and I fully intend on taking it back after –“ He cuts himself off with a yawn and you raise an eyebrow at him. Rolling his eyes, he heads for the door, giving you an awkward bow of his head as he closes the door.

You feel a little bad about stealing his room, but you’re so tired, you don’t have enough time to think about it before you’re drifting off to sleep in his bed.

237 notes · View notes

monsterlovinghours · 4 years

Note

So... I found an interesting tweet and was wondering if you'd write something sexy for it.... "In Vietnam it's a popular belief that if you are single in your 20s there is a ghost following you and hindering your romantic life because it wants to be with you and I just want to tell my personal ghost to quit being a coward and fuck me already." Also I claim the ✨ Emoji, if that's okay?

That’s fine with me, Starburst! holy fucking moly this took me forever to finish and this turned out way longer than i had originally planned but fuck this is such a neat idea and it just kinda snowballed but it’s finally done hurrah!!!!

fem!reader, just bear with me i am soft and full of feelings and i need to self insert

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she unlocked the front door to her empty apartment. Her empty, cold, lonely apartment. Another unsuccessful first date, ruined before any real potential could be reached. Everything seemed to go wrong; first her car wouldn't start, then her Uber was late, the table next to theirs at the restaurant was noisy and obnoxious, and the movie they had wanted to see had been sold out. Her date hadn't offered any suggestions to further the date, just sighed and took her home. He didn't even try to touch her, barely looked at her, and that stung more than she cared to admit, to feel invisible and undesirable. If he was the first, second, or even the fifth, it might not have hurt quite so badly. But the numerous dates she had gone on since entering her twenties had all gone the same way, ending too soon without a single spark of chemistry. Was there something wrong with her? Was she that repulsive?

Sighing, she swallowed her tears for the moment and walked dejectedly to her bedroom, dropping her purse and keys as she went. Down came her hair from the careful twist she had pinned it into, Mediterranean blue waves spilling down her back, her dress shed and her shoes kicked off. Makeup removed and dressed in panties and an oversized shirt, she slipped into bed, curling up with a pillow hugged to her chest. Finally, she let the tears come, sobbing out her hurt, her frustration, her loneliness. She had thought that perhaps this would be the one that went somewhere, that she'd finally break the cycle and maybe, just once, she'd have the chance to feel wanted, to feel seen. To love and be loved, like everyone else. But no; either she was entirely unloveable, or some force out there was deliberately fucking things up for her. In desperation, she angrily muttered through her tears, "Whatever cosmic entity has decided that I'm going to be lonely and hurting forever, could you either fuck off or come fuck me yourself?"

Thud

Something fell from her desk, something relatively heavy, and she sat up with a start and a gasp, her heart hammering. Her journal had fallen to the floor, lying open on a date that was still several months in the future, and the pen that she kept tucked in the pages…was standing upright on the page, scribbling something onto the paper. Her heart rose up into her mouth, fluttering sickeningly. That...was...not normal. Slowly, she slid out of bed, approaching the journal as if it were a live thing, dangerous and fanged and unpredictable. The pen finished whatever it was writing and fell over, and she knelt to read the message it left behind.

i thought you'd never ask babe

She sat back, her eyes darting around the space as if she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious specter that seemed to be listening, watching. Her voice soft, hesitant and tremulous, she asked, "Is someone there?"

Instantly, the pen flew upright again, scratching something out just below its previous message.

been here the whole time sorry about your date.

"Oh my fucking god," she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Who...who are you? How long have you been here? Are you the one fucking with my love life?"

whoa one question at a time babes

To calm herself, she took a deep breath. "How long have you been following me?"

5 years

"Jesus." She let out a breath, unsurprised to feel her hands shake as she ran them back through her hair. "Why?"

its complicated id rather tell you face 2 face

Her brow furrowed, getting to her feet to switch on her light. "Okay. So come out and talk to me. Why are you hiding?” The pen scratched across the paper insistently.

invisible not hiding

“So...make yourself visible?” She crouched by the journal, noticing that the pen was digging into the paper so hard it was nearly tearing it.

Can’t until you say my name

“So what’s your name?”

Can’t tell you

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. The pen suddenly flew across the room, where a poster that had been hanging on her wall swung loose, then fluttered to the ground. Her poster of the constellations. The pen was circling something, a name...the name of a star.

“Betelgeuse?”

Almost excitedly, the pen wrote next to the star, the words jagged and sloppy.

Two more times!!!

She paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. “Beetlejuice.”

One more one more one more please baby gimme one more

One beat, then two, then she threw caution to the wind and spoke the word one final time. “Beetlejuice.”

Her light flickered, as if to announce the sudden appearance of a very real, very solid looking figure standing with their feet planted on her poster, wearing a suit of dirty black and white stripes and a grin that could light up a small town. “You said it! You finally said it! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for five fucking years and you finally said my name!” Before she could speak or even breathe, he had all but lunged for her, wrapping her up in his arms, the smell of damp earth filling her lungs even as he tried to squeeze the breath out of them. Ineffectually, she squirmed in his over-enthusiastic embrace, trying to wriggle away, to take a minute to process what the fuck was happening and who the fuck was standing in her bedroom right now.

“Wait wait, hold on, so...your name is Beetlej-”

“Shhhhh!” He clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t say it. I’m sorry babes, but I’ve waited too long for this to go tits-up now.” He lowered his hand slowly, that grin resurfacing. “Okay, so I know you’ve got a lot of questions and you must be pretty excited to meet your own personal ghost but before we get to the boring stuff I gotta do one thing first.” Without giving her a chance to ask, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her to him even as he dipped her back and kissed her, his lips like ice, though surprisingly soft. What surprised her most was not the kiss itself, but rather her lack of aversion to it; she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long that she was desperate for any kind of affection, even the strange, otherworldly, and rather abrupt kind. Oddly enough, she even found herself kissing him back, her fists gripping the lapels of his coat as he set her upright again. That Cheshire grin still hitched the corners of his mouth high, and his gaze raked over her like a physical caress, cool, white hands still curved in her waist.

"Alright. Fire away, babes, ask me anything."

"Um…" Her head spun, thoughts racing, heart still pounding a chaotic timpani in her ears. "Did...did you say 'my own personal ghost'?"

"I sure did. You're one of the lucky gals that gets a ghost attached to ya when you reach adulthood. And you've got the luck of the draw, sweet stuff, because you managed to snag the Ghost with the Most!" His thumbs hooked into his suspenders, though oddly enough, two hands still stayed clasping her waist.

"And you...you've been fucking with my dates...screwing around with my love life for five years?"

Her voice raised a bit in pitch, and he had the presence of mind to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, but none of those schmucks were good enough for you. I had to scare 'em off, you're mine."

"Excuse me??" She broke his grasp, stepping away from him as her brows knitted together in hurt and anger. "I've spent five years convinced there was something wrong with me, that I was repulsive or unattractive or unlovable, because no one ever made it past the first date, and you waited this long to tell me that it was you the whole time? Do you have any idea how worthless I felt after each failed date? How broken a-and defective I felt? How-”

“Hey hey, take it easy for a second, dollface!” He grasped at her wrists; until he grabbed them, she hadn’t realized how wildly she was gesturing. “Look, I tried. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw you to get you to talk to me. It ain’t exactly easy for the dead to communicate with the living. But you knew I was there, didn’t you? Hasn’t every house you’ve lived in felt just a little bit haunted?” She paused, thinking back to all the doors she had closed but hadn’t opened, the objects on the floor that had been sitting secure on a shelf when she’d left, the quiet moments when she couldn’t sleep when she swore she could feel eyes on her. Encouraged by her pause, he continued. “You breathers are stubborn, you just don’t wanna see what’s right under your noses. Until tonight, I barely had enough influence on the living world to push a piece of paper off the desk. But you...you called for me. You finally gave in and called for me.” He grinned again, and though the fangs should have made him seem frightening and demonic, he just seemed...relieved. “I was finally able to tell you my name, and let me tell ya, there hasn’t been a single sound in my very, very long existence sweeter than you calling my name.”

She took a deep breath in, processing everything he had told her, everything that had happened in...god, had it only been three minutes? “What did you mean when you said that...I was yours? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Means you’re mine, babe. It means that you’re my girl.” Something dulled the gleam in his eyes, and to her surprise, the green in his hair began to fade to a deep, shamed violet. “I was there for every night you fell asleep cryin’ over some guy who would have only hurt you in the end. It gutted me that I couldn’t do anything to help. You’re my baby, and I don’t like to see you hurt, and I really don’t like being the one to hurt you. But it had to be done. You didn't belong with any of them." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as his hair faded back to green, as if he were forcing the color to appear. "We're wasting too much time talking when I should be kissing you."

"W-We just met!" The outrage on her voice felt like a show, a dutiful proper response to finding a green-haired, handsy ghost in her bedroom. But she hadn't once tried to wriggle out of his arms, unconsciously leaning closer when his hand slid up her spine.

Beetlejuice shook his head, stepping into her, strands of pink peeking through the green of his hair as he felt her body against his, solid and oh, so warm. "We've known each other for years, honey. You may not have had a face or a name, but deep down you've always known I was there. If I was just some stranger, you'd have run for the hills by now." She wanted to argue, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. His presence felt familiar, like a memory from her past she had all but forgotten about, but the emotions attached still lingered. It was why she hadn’t struggled when he reached for her, hadn’t tried to shake off his grasp, had kissed him back. His grin widened when she didn’t argue or protest, and he pulled her close, her body flush to his; he all but purred at the way her lashes fluttered, her hands naturally settling on his shoulders, as if they had done this a hundred times.

“Let me kiss you,” he rasped, holding her chin in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, babe, please...let me give you a real kiss.” There wasn’t much more than a fraction of a second of hesitation before she nodded, gaze flicking to his mouth just before the distance closed and her brought her lips to his. With that first urgent kiss out of the way, this one was softer, more patient, sweet, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she parted them without question. Oh, it was wonderful, more so than she had ever dreamed, to be kissed like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, to have hands pressed so close to her skin, as if she would slip from his fingers and shatter if he let go. She wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up on her bed, but the softness of the duvet embraced her as he laid her back, kneeling over her. She moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against hers, the sound echoed as he tasted the first flickers of her pleasure, soft and tremulous, like the first stretch of the wings of a newly emerged butterfly.

“I wanna touch you,” he growled, his kisses trailing down her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good already, baby.” One of his hands rested at her collarbone, waiting for the invitation to slip lower. “Please, honey, let me pull your shirt up? Wanna feel just how warm you are under there…”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, leaning up on one elbow. He seemed confused, perhaps just a touch annoyed, but he stopped. “All those years you spent following me around...did you ever…” She gestured to herself. He smirked.

“Of course not. Not that I didn’t want to, sweetness, but when I saw you for the first time, I wanted you to be able to see me back, y’know?”

“And when I...had...alone time?” She arched a brow, and his grin widened.

“Didn’t see a thing. Scout’s honor. Though, I definitely heard quite a lot. You know, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned her head to the side in an attempt to mute the color rising in her cheeks. “Nope, huh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, babe.” His fingers gripped her chin again, bringing her gaze back to his. “I want you to keep looking at me, no matter what.” She nodded, and he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good girl. Now, lemme get a look at you.” Perhaps not quite as slowly as he should have, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, groaning as her breasts came into view, soft and tipped with dusky pink. “Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered, and she moaned as his hips pressed into hers, seeking warmth and friction. “Such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen you come in from the cold, saw these little beauties all stiff and hard through your shirt, and wanted to tease them with my tongue until I had you moaning and squirming.”

She shivered, letting loose a soft sound of want as he settled his weight more firmly over her, purring like a cat as he leaned down to kiss her nipples, first one, then the other. A moan left her as she felt his tongue softly lick at one stiff peak, her hand tangling in his hair, which to her surprise pulled an answering moan from him. Seems she had found a weak spot.

Oh, she had never dreamed that this would feel so nice, his mouth at her breasts, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing. His hands, still cool but warmer than before, squeezed the full flesh, kneading restlessly, and she arched her back, pulling her shirt off all the way and moaning. His scruff tickled her skin, made her shiver and break out in goosebumps, and she let her fingers drift through his hair, causing him to spill little growls and purrs against her skin.

"Ohhhh, baby," he groaned, lifting his head, his hair a deep rose pink, his pupils wide, drinking in the sight of her. "Baby girl, I've dreamt of this moment for five years, I wanted to make it so good for you. But I don't think I can wait." His hand slipped down her body, palm flat to her skin to touch as much of her as he could at once, then slid between her legs, inside her panties to cup her sex, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit. She keened, her toes curling, and he groaned in response. "Please, babe," he murmured, pushing the tip of his middle finger into her. "Please?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, god, please."

There it was again, that mega-watt grin, his mouth split wide with joy. "Thank you, doll, fuck...oh, I've been wanting this for far too long." He sat up, and in the time it took for him to be upright again, his clothing-suit, tie, and all-had vanished, leaving him naked and visibly throbbing. His hands shook as he pulled down her panties, his cock twitching as he saw her bare for the first time. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my god…” Nearly the same temperature as her now, he touched her, thumb rubbing her clit as he pressed two fingers inside. “Has any guy ever done this to you before," he asked lowly, his free hand sliding up her thigh as he watched his fingers slide in and out of her.

"No." Her answer came immediately with a shake of her head, hips rolling against his hand. "No one."

"I knew it." He grinned, withdrawing his fingers and popping them in his mouth with a deep groan. "Knew you'd wanna save this for me." Licking his lips to savor her, he crawled over her, grasping himself to guide his cock to her entrance. The tip pressed inside, and he groaned, shivering as he saw her teeth come down on her lower lip. "Feel okay?"

"Feels great," she murmured, reaching up to hesitantly cup his cheek in her hand. "You can move, honey, you won't hurt me." Her heart gave a funny little stutter as he nuzzled into her palm, as if craving her touch. He began to rock his hips, so shallow and gentle, widening her for him, though she could see the strain it put on him to go slow, the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Any last doubts she had about him melted away as she fully understood the care he was treating her with. To wait so long for somebody, to be with them every second and watch them laugh and cry and hurt without you, to ache with the need to touch them and be near them, and for the object of your affections to not be able to see you, let alone touch you...she could only imagine how frantic for her he must feel, but he was taking the time to consider her comfort, setting a slow pace despite the fact that it must be torture for him. “Beej?” She spoke the nickname softly, and his gaze focused on her with laser intensity, teeth exposed in a grin. “You don’t have to take it so slow, I won’t break.” Her thumbs stroked over his cheeks, slipping down to cup the sides of his neck and trace his jaw. “I want you to...to feel me. I made you wait so long, honey, but you can make up for lost time now. Don’t hold back.”

A thousand expressions crossed his face at once, his hand sliding around the back of her neck to lift her head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Baby,” he rasped, sounding on the brink of some tremulous emotion, “are you sure? I want this to be good for you-”

“This is as much for you as it is for me. If...if we’re really meant for each other, then isn’t it my job to take care of you, too?”

Beetlejuice let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his lips pressing desperately to hers. “How did I get so fucking lucky to land a babe like you?” And with a snap of his hips, he was fully hilted, his eyes rolling back to the whites as she jolted in his arms, her wet warmth squeezing him, gripping him so tight. A string of curses left his lips, some in a strange language she suspected wasn’t from anywhere aboveground, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, that’s it, babycakes,” he crooned, his hips rolling, groaning with each delicious slide within her velvet. “Ohhh shit, you take me so well...yeah, fuck, you feel so damn good, sweet stuff. You doin’ okay?”

Oh God, was she ever. It was a little uncomfortable at first; while he was average in length, he more than made up for it in width, and there had been a strange burning as she stretched to accommodate him. But that sensation of fullness, of movement, of joining...was indescribable. It felt like breathing for the first time. Like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Like the ceasing of a lifelong pain she had grown too used to to notice until it was no longer there. “Yeah,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m great. P-Please, you can go faster.”

He looked stricken at the glisten of her eyes and the tremble in her voice. “You sure? We can stop if it hurts, babes, I don’t-”

“No.” Her hands shot up to thread through his hair, yanking on it to pull him down into a kiss, the first time she had kissed him. “God, no. It doesn’t hurt, honey, it feels...oh, you feel so fucking good…” To emphasize her point, she squeezed her walls around him, bucking her hips up, and he groaned, shuddering against her. “More, please, I need more of you.”

His mouth left hers, but his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to leave her skin, kissing across her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear, down her throat. “Fuck, say it again,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat as his pace increased, pushing harder, faster, the sense of something on the verge of collapse filling the room around them.

She knew what he meant, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair, neck arching as her hair spread across the pillow. “I need you,” she repeated, her body meeting his, rising up as he pushed down, rolling and cresting and crashing like waves against the shores of her bedsheets. “I need you, please.”

Whatever splintering dam had been holding him back finally broke, and he latched his teeth into her throat with a cry, slamming into her with unrestrained passion, marking her at her pulse, her collarbones, even just under her jaw. She was his, his, and no one else could ever have her now. She had called him, accepted him, opened herself to him in so many ways, in ways he never dreamed a beauty like her ever would. Praise dripped from his lips like rain, showering her in attention and bite marks. Her back curved, her body alight with sensation, each nerve electrified as she held him tighter and tighter, curling herself around him and letting herself get lost in him. This was everything she had wanted, everything she had been missing, in the world’s most unconventional lover. Affection, pleasure, desire, playfulness, care and attention. Her heart melted, her entire self surrendering to him; she felt it now, felt the rightness of his claim. She was his, body and soul. She always had been.

His moans changed in pitch, his thrusts frantic, mindlessly chasing his pleasure as he took her hand, pressing it into the bed beside her head as his fingers wove between hers. “Babe, fuck, I’m gonna come...can I come inside you, baby? Huh? Can I fill you up, sweetness, fill you up and make you come with me? Please, baby girl, I’m so close…” He growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded, almost too breathless to reply. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I’m already yours.”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before releasing it. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m y-oohh fuck!” She cried out, cursing as his free hand began rubbing her clit, hard and fast, tripling her pleasure all at once. “I’m yours!”

“Again, babes…”

“Yours, Beej, I’m yours!”

“Louder, baby, scream for me!”

“Yours!”

With a shout, he broke, his entire body shivering as he came, cool and so deep within her she could practically taste it. The fingers at her clit didn’t let up, and moments later she was following him, her pleasure crackling through her, spreading like lightning across a stormy sky through her body. Her vision faded, dimmed, but the light of his smile and the sound of his voice remained clear as day, grounding her as the muscles in her body unfurled one by one, her body collapsing against the bed as the pleasure faded slowly. There was the sensation of something dripping down her thighs, something wet and just slightly cooler than her own skin, and a delicious little shiver went through her at the sensation, heightening the little aftershock tremors.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow of her breasts, “that was worth the wait.” His hands cupped them, pressed them together as he buried his face between them. For a few moments, everything was silent and still, his lips skimming her skin in little butterfly kisses as she stroked her fingers through his hair, catching her breath. Then, she heard something, heard his voice, heard a muffled voice murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his face ever so slightly, but not looking up at her, he said loudly, “I said you have nice tits!” The words tumbled out of him a little too quickly, and the sudden flush of pink in his hair was a sign that he hadn’t meant for her to hear him, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Either way, she didn’t press the matter, smiling secretly to herself. His kisses, however, became firmer, his tongue even darting out to flick against her skin, and she moaned, wriggling against him as his lips began to migrate south.

“Where’re you headed, honey?”

“God, I like hearing you call me that.” He grinned up at her, licking over her navel. “What, you didn’t think I was done with you, didja? No way, dollface, I’ve got five years of lovin’ to make up for.”

She could have made the argument that they had tons of time to make up for those five years, but as his fingers spread her open to allow his tongue to lap at her clit, the sentence was erased from her mind, her hips jolting up into his mouth. It had been worth it, she decided as his clever, hungry mouth sent her spiraling into one frenzied orgasm after another. All the heartache and tears and lonely nights had been worth it, since it had all lead up to him. For the first time, she felt wanted. Felt loved. Felt truly, finally seen.

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waywardaardvark79 · 4 years

Text

Supernatural Rewrite: Season 1, Episode 10: Asylum

Summary: Y/N Singer joins Sam and Dean on the road. A rewrite starring you.

Pairing: eventual Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: language, show level violence

Word Count: 10,442

A/N: I’ll try to do at least one episode a week. No set schedule. Tags open.

You blinked open your eyes, trying to focus on the blurry red numbers on the clock, 2:37 AM. You tried to move around in bed, but Dean had wrapped himself around you and you couldn't move.

"De." you said, trying to move his arm, only causing him to hold on to you tighter. "Dean, come on. You gotta let me up. I gotta pee."

"Mmm...no." he sleepily mumbled, throwing one of his legs over you, further preventing your escape.

You sighed heavily, "I gotta pee." you said, Dean burying his face in the back of your neck.

"Five more minutes." he said, his lips practically touching your skin, sending a shiver down you spine.

"Let. Go." you said, your hand sliding under the covers until you found his thigh, your fingers giving it a hard pinch.

Dean shot up in bed, "What the fuck, Y/N?" he asked, glaring at you.

"I gotta pee." you said, climbing out of bed, Dean settling back down, rolling to face away from you.

"You coulda just said so." he mumbled, you shaking your head as you walked to the bathroom.

You walked into the bathroom and closed the door before flipping on the light, trying not to wake the boys. You pulled off your gloves and tossed them on the sink before using the bathroom, standing back up a few moments later to wash your hands.

You dried your hands on one of the small motel towels and flipped off the light before opening the door, forgetting your gloves on the bathroom sink.

You shuffled back to bed, half asleep, and crawled inside, Dean's back to you. You snuggled up to him, tucking your legs under his, one arm thrown over his side, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, your face buried between his shoulder blades as you breathed him in.

"Bein' the little spoon is kinda nice." you head Dean say, your mouth turning up at the corner as you chuckled under your breath, not realizing at the time that he didn't actually say that out loud.

You were still half asleep, a low murmur pulling you closer to consciousness, but your eyes remained closed as you shifted in bed, listening.

"Oh, please don't wake up. I'm not ready for you to wake up yet." you heard Dean think, stilling yourself, wondering if he would continue. "I wonder if you ever notice just how much I look at you. I would think it would be a hard thing to miss. Sam sure says it is." Dean thought before he lifted your hand from his chest, "Hmm...maybe it doesn't work when you're sleepin'. Hey, maybe you could stop sleeping in those gloves all the time. I kinda miss the way your hands feel." Dean thought, pausing for a moment, his hand wrapping around yours, "You know, there are so many things I want to tell you, but I just never can find the words or the right time." he thought, and as much as you wanted to know what he was going to say next, you moved, Dean quickly letting go of your hand as you opened your eyes.

It wasn't right to listen in on him when he didn't know you were, when he didn't think you could hear him, and part of you didn't know if you were ready to hear what he had to say.

There had been enough change in your life. You didn't know if you could handle anymore, even though you were pretty sure you were feeling the same as him.

"Hey, I didn't think you were ever gonna wake up. It's about time though, Singer. I can't feel my arm anymore." Dean said, your hand on his chest as you raised up, allowing him the room to pull his arm from under you. "Shit, Dean. Why the fuck did you have to go and say something like that?" he thought, a slight smile on your face as you sat up and pulled your hand away from him, breaking the connection.

"You'll live." you said, getting out of bed, grabbing some clothes out of your bag before walking into the bathroom to get dressed.

"Real fuckin' smooth." Dean breathed out, rubbing his hands over his face.

"What'd you do now?" Sam asked, rolling over in bed.

"What?" Dean asked, looking over at him.

"What did you do now?" Sam asked, again, the bathroom door opening before Dean could answer.

"I don't know about you guys, but I need some fuckin' coffee." you said, slipping on your gloves as you looked between them. "You guys want anything?" you asked, grabbing the keys from the table.

"Yeah, grab us some, too." Dean said, throwing the covers back.

"Alright, I'll be right back." you said, turning to head to the door.

Sam watched you go, an amused look on his face, "So, you're letting her drive now?" he asked, once you walked out.

"It's just coffee. It's no big deal." Dean said, getting up to get dressed.

Sam chuckled, "Sure it's not." he said, a smile on his face.

"Drop it, Sam. I said, it's not a big deal, so it isn't." Dean said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." Sam said, Dean giving him a look before walking into the bathroom.

You pushed through the motel door about twenty minutes later with a tray of coffee in your hands, Sam busy on the phone.

"No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought...he comes to you for 'munitions...maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything." Sam said.

You walked into the room and handed Dean his coffee, "Lookin' for John?" you asked, Dean nodding his head.

"Thanks." Sam said to the person on the end before hanging up.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asked as you handed Sam his coffee.

"Nope, and neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?" Sam asked.

"No, same the last time I looked. Nothing I can make out...I love the guy, but I swear he writes like friggin' Yoda." Dean said.

"Well, what about Bobby?" Sam asked, turning to you. "Maybe he's heard from him."

"Sam, they...they don't really talk anymore. Besides, I talked to Dad yesterday and he didn't say anything about it. Believe me, if he heard from him, he would mention it." you said, Sam's face falling.

Sam thought for a moment, "You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's." Sam said.

"We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail." Dean said.

"He's right, Sam. That'd just be bad fuckin' news." you said.

"I don't care anymore." Sam said, a cellphone ringing, Dean crossing the room to go get it. "After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, guys. You both said so yourselves, and I know that both of you tried calling him and...nothing."

"I know!" Dean snapped, rummaging through his duffel, "Where the hell is my cell phone?"

"Move. I'll find it." you said, knowing an argument was about to start, and you hadn't had enough coffee to deal with it yet.

"You know, he could be dead for all we know." Sam said.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sam. Really?" you asked, still digging through the bag.

"Don't say that! He's not dead! He's...he's..." Dean trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam asked.

"Don't fuckin' start, Sam. It's too God damn early for this shit." you said, finally grabbing the phone and flipping it open, a text message from an unavailable number staring back at you, the message short and sweet, coordinates, "Well, fuck me." you said, passing the phone to Dean.

"Huh. I don't believe it." he said, his eyes on the phone.

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's, uh...it's a text message. It's coordinates." Dean said, going over to the laptop.

"You think Dad was texting us?" Sam asked Dean.

"Who else would it be?" you asked, Dean nodding his head in agreement with you.

"He's given us coordinates before." Dean said.

"Guys, the man can barely work a toaster." Sam said, looking between you and Dean.

"Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least." Dean said.

"Well, was there a number on the caller ID?" Sam asked.

"No, it said unknown." you answered.

"Well, where do the coordinates point?" Sam asked.

"That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois." Dean said.

"Ok, and that's interesting how?" Sam asked.

"Rockford, Illinois." you said, shaking your head, "Why does that sound so familiar?" you asked, Dean holding up a finger at you.

"I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this. This cop, Walter Kelly, comes homes from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum." Dean said.

"Roosevelt Asylum?" you asked, Dean nodding his head.

"Okay, I'm not following. What does this have to do with us?" Sam asked.

"Dad ear marked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see." Dean said, reaching for the journal.

"I fuckin' knew that place sounded familiar." you said.

"Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths...till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go." Dean said.

Sam scoffed, "This is a job...Dad wants us to work a job." he said.

"So, what if he does?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?" Dean said.

"Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing." Sam said.

"What are you getting at, Sam? It is kinda our job, so I don't see what the big deal is." you said, Dean speaking before Sam could say anything.

"Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!" Dean said.

"This doesn't strike you guys as weird? The texting? The coordinates?" Sam asked, looking between you and Dean.

"Sam." you sighed, at a loss for words, knowing nothing that you could say to him would change his mind.

"Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'." Dean said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The three of you were standing in a bar, each of you looking for Daniel Gunderson, the partner of the cop that killed himself.

"Right there." you said, subtly pointing out the man who just sat down at the bar.

"Ready?" Dean asked, nudging you.

"Yeah, reporters, right?" you asked, Dean nodding his head before the two of you walked over to him.

"You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Gunderson said.

"Huh. I'm, uh, Nigel Tufnel and this is Lyla St. James, The Chicago Tribune. Mind if we ask you a couple questions about your partner?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I do. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here." Gunderson said, obviously annoyed with the two of you.

"That's okay, I swear it won't take that long. We just want to get the story in your words." Dean said.

"We would really appreciate it." you added.

"A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You two gonna ambush me here?" Gunderson asked.

"We really are sorry for your loss." you said.

"But, we need to know what happened." Dean added, Sam walking up and shoving him aside, roughly.

"Hey, buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Why don'tcha show a little respect!" Sam said to Dean before turning to you, "Same goes for you. You two should get outta here."

"Come on." you said, grabbing Dean's arm.

"You didn't have to do that." Gunderson said.

"Yeah, course I did. Those two were serious jerks. Let me buy you a beer, huh?" Sam said before looking at the bartender, "Two."

"Thanks." Gunderson said.

You and Dean were sitting on the Impala when Sam walked out of the bar.

"Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy." Dean said, you rolling your eyes.

"I told you not to start anything." you said, shaking your head.

"I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting." Sam said.

"Huh?" Dean asked.

"Never mind." Sam said.

"What'd you find out from Gunderson?" Dean asked.

"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop, head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him." Sam said.

"That's all well and good, but what about at home? Maybe the guy had a shitty home life." you said.

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids." Sam said.

"Alright, so either Kelly had some deep seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him." Dean said.

"Right." Sam said.

"What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?" Dean asked.

"A lot." Sam replied.

The three of you pulled up outside of the asylum, all three of you getting out of the car.

"You gonna be able to make it, Singer?" Dean asked, looking at the tall chain linked fence.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I can make that, and I'm a little fuckin' insulted that you even asked." you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Well...it's just last time you had to scale a fence like this...you had some trouble." Dean said.

"Last time I had on a skirt." you said, looking up the length of the fence.

"Yeah, but if you need my help just let me know." Dean said, looking you up and down.

"Newsflash, I'm not wearing a skirt. I'll make it just fine on my own." you said.

"Hmm...see, I was just thinkin' that those jeans look a little tight. I'd be all for you takin' 'em off if you need to. You know, to make it over the fence." Dean said, smirking at you. "Hell, I can even help you take 'em off. You know, if you need me to. I'm always willing to help."

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head, "Be thankful you're fuckin' hot, De. I mean, do those lame ass attempts actually work on anyone?" you asked, as you started to climb the fence.

"You think I'm hot?" Dean asked, a smile on his face as he followed you up the fence, quickly passing you.

"Show off." you breathed out. "You know, I should have known that was all you would get outta that." you said, working your way down the other side of the fence, Dean already on the ground.

"Hey, you can't take it back now." Dean said, his hands coming to rest on your hips, "Go ahead and jump. I got ya." he said, easing you to the ground before the two of you took off running to catch up with Sam.

"So, apparently the cops chased the kids here...into the south wing." Sam said, pointing up at a sign over one of the doors, the three of you now inside the asylum.

"South wing, huh? Wait a second." Dean said before flipping through John's journal. "1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts, and started lighting up the place." Dean said.

"So, whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it." Sam said.

"That's what itt sounds like to me." you said, walking ahead of Sam and Dean.

"But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean asked.

"This could have something to do with it." you said, holding up a broken chain. "Looks like the doors are usually chained."

"Could've been chained up for years." Sam said.

"Yeah, to keep people out, or to keep something in." Dean said.

"Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel." Dean said to Sam, as the three of you walked down a hallway, "You too, Miss Cleo."

"How long have you been sittin' on that one?" you asked, a half smile on your face.

"Dude, enough." Sam said.

"I'm serious. You guys gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you two got going on." Dean said.

"I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes, weird dreams." Sam said.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell." Dean said before looking to you.

"Listen, I'm not even gonna fuckin' pretend to know what's going on with me. So, if you wanna go with ESP then go ahead. I kinda thought we settled on magic fingers, though." you teased, Dean smiling.

"You get any readings on that thing or not?" Sam asked, looking over to Dean, trying to get the focus back on the case.

"Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home." Dean said, looking down at his EMF before nudging you, "You, uh, feel anything, or you know, however it, uh, works?" Dean asked, nodding his head towards your hands.

"I'd have to take the gloves off, but I can tell you that there is definitely something going on here. I can tell that with these on." you said.

"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day. Maybe that's why." Sam said.

"Yeah, the freaks come out at night." Dean said.

"Yeah." Sam said, you nodding your head.

"Hey, Sam, Y/N? Who do you guys think is the hotter psychic, Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Y/N, or Sam?" Dean asked, Sam pushing him causing Dean to laugh, "I'm pretty sure me and Y/N have the same pick." he said.

"So, you think Sam is the hottest, too?" you asked, Sam laughing loudly.

"What?! No! You were supposed to say you!" Dean yelled, you and Sam both walking into another room before he could say anything else.

Dean whistled when he walked in, "Man, electro-shock, lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." Dean said, grinning at you and Sam, Sam ignoring him.

You chuckled, smiling back at him, "I haven't seen that in years." you said, shaking your head, "Well, as near as I can figure out, It's 'cause I, uh, fight and fuck too much." you said, quoting the movie under your breath as you looked around, Dean smiling at you.

"So, whaddaya guys think? Ghosts possessing people?" Dean asked, forcing himself to focus on the case instead of you.

"Maybe." Sam said.

"Or maybe it's more like Amityville." you suggested, Sam nodding his head.

"Or the Smurl hauntings." Sam added.

"Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining." Dean said, grinning, you turning to face him.

"I said, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just going to bash your brains in! Gonna bash 'em right the fuck in." you said, quoting The Shining, doing your best Nicholson impersonation, Dean laughing loudly.

"See, that's why I love you." Dean blurted out, both you and him freezing the moment the words left his lips, each of you looking at each other in panic. "I...didn't...I mean, as a, uh, friend. Yeah, a friend, that's it." Dean said, playfully punching your arm.

Sam cleared his throat, "Dean." he said, Dean looking over at him, "When are we going to talk about it?" Sam asked.

"Talk about what?" Dean asked, your heart racing, afraid that Sam was going to push the two of you to talk about your feelings.

"Sam, we don't need to talk about anything. He already explained himself, okay? Lots of friends love each other. So, there's no need for a therapy session or intervention, or whatever you have planned. Let's just fuckin' drop it." you said, Sam looking at you strangely.

"I was talking about the fact that Dad's not here." Sam said.

"Oh, of course." you said, slowly nodding your head, Dean speaking up before you could embarrass yourself any further.

"Oh, I see...how 'bout...never." Dean said.

"I'm being serious, guys. He sent us here..." Sam said, trailing off.

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later." Dean said.

"It doesn't matter what he wants." Sam said.

"Sam." you sighed, "Can we just do the fuckin' job, and fight later?" you asked.

"See. That attitude? Right there? That is why I always got the extra cookie." Dean said.

"Guys, please. We've had this fight a hundred times by now. It's not going to fuckin' solve anything. Let's just do the job. John clearly wanted us to, and even if he didn't, it's still a job. If we leave now more people are gonna die just because we couldn't suck it up and move past shit." you said.

"Dad could be in trouble. We should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about." Sam said.

"I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order." Dean said.

"So, what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?" Sam asked.

"Of course, we do." Dean said, both of them more than frustrated.

"Alright! You two are gonna knock this shit off right fucking now. We have a job to do. We can pick this bullshit up later. You two can fight all you want then, but right now both of you are gonna lock it the fuck up." you said, looking between them, Dean turning away, ending the conversation.

The three of you were poking around, looking for any information you could find, all three of you remaining silent, the tension palpable.

Dean picked up a sign, "Sanford Ellicott...you guys know what we gotta do. We gotta find out more about the south wing. See if something happened here." Dean said before walking away, leaving the sign with Sam.

"Come on, Sam." you said, turning to follow after Dean. "Let's go find out everything we can about this asshole."

"How do you know he was an asshole?" Sam asked, the corner of his mouth turning up.

"Well, he was a doctor in this fuckin' place. That can't be anything good, so I'm pretty sure that makes him an asshole." you said, Sam shaking his head at you, a smile on his face, "But, what do I know? I think everyone's an asshole." you said, Sam chuckling as he stepped to your side.

You and Dean were waiting outside of Dr. James Ellicott's office, the three of you deciding that Sam was the best one to go inside and talk to him.

"Do you think Sam's right?" Dean asked, leaning against the glass windows by the door.

"About what?" you asked, looking up at him from your spot on the ground, your knees drawn up to your chest, your arms wrapped around them.

"About Dad. Do you think he's...he's dead?" Dean asked.

"I don't." you said, Dean sliding down to sit next to you.

"Do you really think that, or are you just tryin' to make me feel better?" he asked.

"I wouldn't like to you about that. I'm not gonna sugar coat things just to make you feel better. I mean, I wouldn't want you to do that to me, so." you said, Dean nodding his head.

"So, you think he's alive?" Dean asked, again.

"I do. I don't think we're gonna find him though." you said, Dean's face falling, "At least not any time soon."

"Why not?" he asked.

"If John doesn't want to be found, we won't find him, and I honestly think...that he doesn't want us to find him." you said.

"Then what's with the text messages? The coordinates?" Dean asked.

"I think you were right when you said he wanted us to take over. I think that's why he's sending us jobs." you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We...I...need to find him." Dean said. "I have to."

"I know you do, and trust me, I'll be there every step of the way to help you, but I think we'll find him when he's ready for us to. John's smart, Dean. He knows what he's doing, and he can take care of himself. He'll be okay, De." you said.

"I hope you're right." he said.

"I always am." you said, trying to lighten the mood, stretching your legs out in front of you, "So, you have nothing to worry about, okay?"

You felt Dean kiss the top of your head, "Thanks for, uh, just thanks." Dean said before standing back up, scared that he crossed a line. "What in the world could they be talkin' about in there? He's been in there forever." Dean added, changing the subject.

"Maybe he's talkin' about us." you teased, getting to your feet.

"Us?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, what did he call us the other day? Emotionally constipated? Said therapy would do both of us some good. Maybe he's gettin' some tips." you said, Dean laughing.

"Yeah, I can see him doing somethin' like that." Dean said, shaking his head, the two of you slipping into silence, both of you fearing what could slip out if the conversation continued.

Dean was leaning against the windows again, looking bored when Sam walked out.

"Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?" Dean asked, catching up to him.

"Just the hospital, you know." Sam said.

"Well, with how long you were in there, you should know the entire fuckin' history of the place." you said, Sam giving you a completely done look.

"And...?" Dean asked when Sam didn't say anything.

"And the south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane." Sam said.

"Sounds cozy." Dean said.

"I was thinkin' the same thing." you added.

"Yeah, and one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff, attacked each other." Sam said.

"So, the patients took over the asylum?" Dean asked.

"Apparently." Sam said.

"Any deaths?" Dean asked.

"De, a bunch of psychotic people rioted...of course people fuckin' died." you sassed, Dean rolling his eyes at you before playfully shoving you.

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our Chief of Staff, Ellicott." Sam said.

"Whaddaya mean, never recovered?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I mean, what the fuck could they have done with them?" you asked.

"Cops scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must've...stuffed the bodies somewhere." Sam said.

"That's grim." Dean said.

"Yeah, so, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down." Sam said.

"So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies." Dean said.

"Not to mention, a fuck load of homicidal spirits." you added.

"Good times, huh, Singer? Let's check out the hospital tonight." Dean said, you and Sam nodding in agreement.

The three of you were back at the asylum, Sam pushing open the door, you and Dean beside him.

"Getting readings?" Sam asked, holding a video camera and a flashlight.

"Yeah, big time." Dean said, looking down at his EMF.

"This place is orbing like crazy." Sam said.

"Probably multiple spirits out and about." Dean said, glancing over at you, stopping when he noticed you taking off your gloves, "What are you doin?" he asked.

"What good are magic fingers if I don't use them?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders.

Dean looked at you, concern etched on his face, "I don't know, Singer. You remember what happened last time. you should put 'em back on." Dean said.

"I'll be fine." you said, Dean shaking his head at you, knowing that he couldn't change your mind.

"If these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting." Sam said, trailing off.

"We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful, though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit...is the pissed of spirit of a psycho killer." Dean said.

Sam had separated from you and Dean, walking into another room alone. After a minutes on his own Sam saw an old woman through the lens of the camera he was holding, her hair white, one eye bloody and hanging out as she moved towards him.

"Dean. Y/N! Dean!" Sam yelled, you and Dean running into the rom, Dean rummaging through his bag. "Shotgun!" Sam yelled.

"Sam, get down!!" you yelled, raising your gun, Sam throwing himself to the ground before you pulled the trigger, the old woman disintegrating once she was hit.

"That was weird." Sam said, the three of you still on edge.

"Yeah. You're tellin' me." Dean said, walking out of the room, you and Sam following after him.

"No, Dean, I mean, it was weird that she didn't attack me." Sam said.

"Maybe she just hadn't had time yet." you said, Dean nodding.

"Yeah, looked pretty aggro from where I was standing." Dean said.

"She didn't hurt me. She didn't even try! So, if she didn't wanna hurt me then what did she want?" Sam asked, a noise coming from one of the rooms the three of you were passing, stopping all of you in your tracks.

Dean immediately raised his shotgun, Sam flicking on the flashlight as the three of you walked into the room the noise came from.

You looked around the room, spotting the top of a blonde head sticking up from behind an overturned bed, grabbing the boys to point it out to them.

The three of you braced yourselves, Sam reaching out to tip the bed over, a terrified girl spinning around to face the three of you.

"Fuck. What the hell are you doin' in here?" you asked, definitely not expecting to see another living person.

"It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?" Dean asked.

"Katherine. Kat." she answered.

"Okay, I'm Dean, this is Sam, and that's Y/N." Dean said, introducing the three of you.

"Okay, great...we all know each other now. So, how about you tell us what the fuck you're doing here?" you asked.

"Don't mind her." Sam said, stepping forward. "She means well...really. What are you doing here, though?" Sam asked.

"Um, my boyfriend, Gavin." she said.

"Of course." you said, shaking your head. "Of course, there's two of you."

"Is he here?" Dean asked.

"Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just...pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and..." Kat trailed off, completely terrified.

"Alright, Kat? Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend." Dean said, gesturing between you and him.

"No! No, I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you." she said.

"Yeah, that's a really bad fuckin' idea. Almost as bad as the one to come in here in the first place." you said, Kat shrinking back .

"She's right. It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous." Dean said.

"That's why I gotta find him." Kat said.

"Alright, I guess we're gonna split up then. Let's go." Dean said, stopping you when you tried to follow after Sam, "Uh-uh, you're with me. I can't make you wear the gloves, but I can keep you with me, so I can make sure nothing happens." Dean said.

"Jesus Christ, Dean." you said, walking away from him. "You know, you gotta trust me when I tell you that I'm fine. You've already got one damsel in distress to look after. You don't need another one." you said, Dean biting his tongue to keep from arguing with you.

You, Dean, and Kat were wandering around the halls, looking for her boyfriend, Gavin.

"I got a question for ya. You've seen a lot of horror movies, yeah?" Dean asked her.

"I guess so." Kat said, Dean turning to face her.

"Do me a favor. Next time you see one? Pay attention. When someone says a place is haunted...don't go in." Dean said.

"He's right, you know. All this shit's real, and you're gonna mess around and get yourself killed." you said, Kat nodding her head.

You, Dean and Kat were walking down yet another hallway, Dean leading the way, his flashlight fading.

"You son of a bitch." Dean said, shaking the flashlight.

"You want mine?" you asked, grabbing your flashlight, trying to turn in on, "Fuck, mines out, too."

"It's alright. I got a lighter." Dean said, reaching into his pocket.

"Ow. You're hurting my arm." Kat said causing you to turn and face her.

"What are you talking about?" you asked. "I'm not touching you." you said, looking down to see a disembodied hand clutching onto Kat's arm. "Oh fuck." you said, quickly grabbing onto her, both of you ripped backwards into a room, the metal door slamming behind you.

Dean rushed over to the door, and struggled to pull it open, Kat banging on it from the inside, the door not budging.

"Lemme out! Please!" Kat screamed, Dean continuing to struggle with the door.

"Kat! Hang on!" he yelled, pausing a moment. "Hey, Singer, try to calm her down." he said, smashing at the door with a metal pipe.

"Singer, what's going on in there?" Dean asked, worried that he hadn't heard you yet. "Y/N!!" he yelled again, getting no response from you.

Sam and Gavin were running down the hall towards Dean, "What's going on?" Sam asked.

"They're inside with one of them, and Y/N ain't answering." Dean said, Kat's scream causing him to whip back towards the door.

"Kat?! Kat, what's going on in there?" Dean asked, completely panicked that he still hadn't heard you.

"Help me!!" Kat screamed.

"Kat!" Gavin yelled.

"Get me outta here!" Kat yelled, sliding down against the door.

"Kat, I need you to listen to me, I need you to tell me what Y/N's doing. Is she okay?" Dean asked.

"I...I don't know. It...I think it did something to her. She's...she's just sitting there." Kat said, Dean trying even harder to open the door.

"Y/N! Y/N! Come on, Singer! Talk to me!!" Dean yelled.

"Kat, it's not going to hurt you." Sam said, stepping up to the door.

"Bullshit! It hurt her!" Kat yelled, Dean's heart pounding in his chest, needing more than anything to get to you.

"Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down." Sam calmly said.

"She's gotta what?!" Dean asked, turning to Sam. "It's already done something to Y/N, and now you want her to face it?"

"I have to what?!" Kat yelled.

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us. They're trying to communicate. You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it." Sam explained.

"Tell that to the comatose girl in here. You face it!!" Kat yelled.

"No! It's the only way to get out of there." Sam said.

"NO!" Kat yelled.

"Do you really think the door will open if she does it?" Dean asked Sam, Sam nodding.

"Listen to me, Kat." Dean said "I need you to turn around and look at the son of a bitch, okay? Find out what he wants. That's the only way this door is openin'. So, just do it. Dean said, aching to get inside.

"Kat?" Gavin asked, when he didn't hear anything.

"Man, I hope you're right about this. I gotta get in that fuckin' room." Dean said before waiting in tense silence, the lock clicking before the door slowly opened.

"Oh, Kat." Gavin said, Kat standing in the doorway.

Dean pushed by her, rushing into the room and kneeling down by your side. You were just sitting there, your back against the wall, a blank expression on your face.

"Y/N. Y/N." Dean said, grabbing your shoulders. "Come on, Singer." he said, his hands coming up to your face, one on each cheek.

Your eyes were open, but you weren't looking at him. You were staring straight through him, somewhere far, far away from there.

Sam walked into the room to see Dean taking you into his arms, his back against the wall as he clutched you to his chest.

Sam crouched down next to Dean, thinking to himself that he couldn't remember a time when he had see Dean look so scared.

"What do I do, Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice breaking. "I...I don't know what to do."

"It's okay. We're gonna figure this out. She's going to be fine." Sam said before turning back towards the door, "Kat, what did you see? What did it do to her?" Sam asked.

"I...I don't know." she stammered out, still terrified.

"Well, think God damn it!!!" Dean roared, Kat jumping back.

"Dean!" Sam barked. "That's not gonna help." he said before turning back to Kat. "Just try to think, okay. Anything you can remember could help." Sam said.

"He...he...just touched her. She was trying to get something out of her pocket, I think, but it was too late. He touched her, and she...she just stopped. I...I don't know she was just standing there looking at him, and then she just slid down the wall." Kat said, Dean looking down to see your gloves halfway out of your pocket.

"Okay, so he probably didn't possess her. He just touched her." Sam said, looking down at you, waving his hand in front of your face. "Kat, did you see where he touched her?" Sam asked.

"He just grabbed her hand, I think." Kat replied.

"Okay, maybe he was trying to show her something." Sam said, more to himself than to Dean.

"No, somethin's wrong. She...she shouldn't still be like this. She said it stops when she isn't touching something, and she's not fuckin' touching anything." Dean said, panic in his voice.

"Dean, I need you to calm down." Sam said, his own worry and fear for you pushed to the back burner. "Ok, she did something like this when we were in Kansas, remember? She, uh, touched something in the closet and then kind of just zoned out." Sam said, Dean nodding his head. "So, what did you do then? You got her to snap out of it."

"I didn't do anything. I just talked to her, said her name a couple times." Dean said.

"Try it again." Sam said.

"I tried that, Sam! It didn't fuckin' work!" Dean yelled.

Sam took your hand in his, "Hey, Y/N, we need you to wake up." he said, your eyes still wide open, not blinking. "Come on, Y/N. You can do it, just wake up."

Dean took hold of your other hand the best he could while still trying to hold you, "Hey, come on, Singer. You can't do this. We need you. You know that. We'd both be lost without you. I mean, who'd save our asses? So, just snap out of it." Dean said, both him and Sam slipping into silence when you didn't respond.

"He's right Y/N. We need you. I...I need you. I know we aren't as close as we used to be, and that's my fault, but I want to get back there. So, just make your way back here. If anyone can do it, it's you. We're waiting for you." Sam thought to himself, still holding onto your hand.

"Singer, I know you're in there somewhere, and I got to believe that you can hear me. Come on, Y/N, just do something...give me some sort of sign here." Dean thought, looking down at you to see you in the same state. "Come on, Baby, don't do this to me. You...you can't do this to me. You said you weren't going anywhere. You promised. So , I need you to snap the fuck out of it, and get your ass back here. I need...I need you. Please, just please, wake up." Dean thought, your eyes starting to flutter.

"Dean! Look!" Sam yelled, both of them looking down at you. "Y/N?" Sam asked, Dean holding his breath.

"Stop thinking." you finally said. "I...can't hear you when you both think at the same fuckin' time." you said, Sam smiling a relieved smile as Dean pulled you into a hug, crushing you against his chest, as he released the breath he had been holding.

"You scared the shit outta us, Singer." Dean said, refusing to let you go.

"Is...is somethin' wrong with the car?" you asked, your eyes closed as you tried to center yourself.

"No, no. The car's fine." Dean said, giving Sam a confused look.

"Did you see something about the car?" Sam asked, just as confused as Dean.

"No, but I heard Dean say something about Baby not doing something, so I just thought..." you said, trailing off, Dean not even bothering to look embarrassed.

"Y/N, what happened?" Sam asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Give her a minute, Sam." Dean snapped, still holding onto you.

You opened your eyes, "I was there...at the riot. I saw it. I...I felt it. 137. We got to go to room 137." you said, your thoughts still a little jumbled.

"137?" Kat asked from the doorway. "That's what it whispered in my ear before the door opened. 137." she said.

"That's what he wanted me to see, but I...I don't know. It was...I think he was taking me there, but then he let go of my hand and I couldn't see anything anymore. I could...I could just feel. I could feel all of their emotions, but it was just black. It's like I was trapped inside my own fuckin' head, and I couldn't find my way out. I could only focus on what they were feeling and I couldn't get back." you said, Dean holding onto you tighter.

"It's okay. You're back now. I've got ya. I'll always get you back." Dean said, rocking you side to side.

"I know you will. I know." you said, pulling back from him, "We have to go to room 137. I have to see this through." you said, pulling your gloves from your pocket and slipping them on.

"Nothing I say is gonna change your mind, is it?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. I...I have to do this, Dean. I can't just go hide in a corner, scared, somewhere. I just...I need to do this." you said.

"Fine." Dean said, even though it was the last thing he wanted to say. "Room 137, it is. But, you're putting those gloves on, and you're not taking them off no matter what. And, you're gonna stay right by my side like we're fuckin' glued together. Are we clear? I need to know that you're gonna actually listen to me for once." Dean said.

"Ok. We're clear. The gloves stay on, and I stay with you." you said before wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Take a breath, De. I'm fine. I'm just fine." you whispered in his ear, feeling him take a deep breath seconds later.

You, Sam, and Dean were crouched against the wall where Gavin and Kat couldn't over hear.

"Alright. So, if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone..."Sam trailed off.

"Then, what are they trying to do?" Dean asked.

"There's something that they want us to know, that they want us to see." you said.

"Well, I guess, we'll find out." Dean said before looking over to you. "Gloves?"

"Gloves." you said, holding your hands up so he could see.

"Alright." Sam said, nodding his head.

The three of you walked back over to Kat and Gavin, "So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?" Dean asked.

"That's an understatement." Kat said.

"Okay." Dean said, turning to Sam. "You get them outta here. We're going to go find room 137." Dean said, Sam nodding his head, knowing that Dean needed to keep you with him.

Sam was leading Kat and Gavin down a hallway, "So, how do you guys know about all this ghost stuff?" she asked.

"It's kinda our job." Sam replied.

"Why would anyone want a job like that?" she asked.

Sam huffed a laugh, "I had a crappy guidance counselor." he said.

"And Y/N and Dean? Are they..." Kat trailed off.

Sam sighed, "It's complicated." he said. "They don't know what they are, but I like to call it denial."

"And are they your bosses?" Kat asked.

"No." Sam said, looking down at her, a little bothered by the question.

You and Dean were walking down a hallway, both of you shining your flashlights on the doors, looking for room 137, Dean glancing over at you every few seconds.

"De, I'm fine. you don't have to keep looking." you said, your flashlight landing on room 137. "There we go."

Dean pushed against the door, using his weight to push aside the broken furniture blocking it, finally getting it open.

The two of you walked inside noticing that the room was a complete mess, filing cabinets pushed over, papers everywhere, the walls stained.

"Well, guess we should start lookin'." you said, flipping through some folders lying in a cabinet.

The two of you were still searching and you were starting to get discouraged that neither of you had found anything yet. You looked over in Dean's direction to seem him running his hands along the wall.

Dean happened upon a loose panel and pried it off, finding a satchel full of papers behind it, "This is why I get paid the big bucks." he said, waving the satchel at you.

"I'll stroke your ego later. Let's open it." you said, pulling up a chair.

"I got somethin' else you could stroke." Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows at you, trying to make you laugh.

You threw your head back, laughing loudly before looking up at him, "Pretty sure that would chafe like a bitch." you said, wiggling your gloved fingers at him, Dean laughing as he pulled up a chair next to you.

You opened the satchel, a journal with many notes and hand drawn pictures of medical instruments inside. "Well, that's just fuckin' creepy." you said before you started to read over the notes, "It's like a fuckin' how to manual."

"Yeah, well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy." Dean said, a noise making both of you look up quickly.

Sam was moving back down a hallway towards Gavin and Kat, "Alright, I've looked everywhere. There's no other way out." he said.

"So, what the hell are we gonna do?" Gavin asked, panicked.

"Well, for starters. We're not gonna panic." Sam said.

"Why the hell not?" Gavin asked, Sam's phone ringing before he could reply.

"Hey." Sam said.

"Sam, it's me. I see it. It's coming for us." Dean said, the connection bad.

"Where are you?" Sam asked.

"We're in the basement. Hurry up!" Dean said, Sam hanging up the phone before looking over at Kat and Gavin.

Sam quickly instructed Kat on how to use the shotgun, telling her to be ready to shoot before making his way to the basement.

"Dean! Y/N!" Sam called out, searching through hallways and rooms, his flashlight flickering and fading, a door behind him swinging open.

Sam raised his gun and approached carefully, "Dean? Y/N?" he asked.

A shadow moved behind a ragged curtain, catching his attention. Sam pulled the curtain back expecting to see someone, but finding nothing.

He turned back around, an old, beaten up man with ragged hair and clothes was standing before him. The man grabbed Sam's face, his hand starting to glow.

"Don't be afraid. I'm going to make you all better." the man said.

You and Dean were coming around the corner, Dean seeing Kat just as she pulled the trigger. Dean grabbed you and threw the both of you back around the corner just in time.

"What the fuck?!" you yelled.

"Damn it. Damn it, don't shoot. It's us." Dean said, both of you still against the wall.

"Sorry. Sorry." Kat said.

"Son of a..." Dean said, coming around the corner, looking at the marks on the wall.

"What the hell are you two still doing here?" you asked, looking at Kat and Gavin.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked when he noticed he wasn't there.

"He went to the basement. You called him." Gavin said.

"I didn't call anybody." Dean said.

"Oh, fuck." you breathed out, knowing that this couldn't be good.

"His cell phone rang. He said it was you." Kat said.

"Basement, huh?" Dean asked, looking over to you.

"Basement." you said.

"Alright." Dean said, grabbing some extra weapons. "Watch yourselves...and watch out for us." he said before the two of you headed to the basement.

"Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam!" Dean called out.

"Come on, Sam!!" you yelled, Dean turning to see Sam standing right in front of him.

Dean jumped back, automatically raising his gun, "Man, answer us when we're calling you! You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam answered.

"You sure?" you asked, looking him over, something seeming off about him.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Sam said.

"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here." Sam said.

"Well, you're right about that." you said.

"I think we know who, Dr. Ellicott." Dean said.

"That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. I think that's what that one wanted me to see." you said.

"You haven't seen him, have you?" Dean asked Sam.

"No. How do you guys know it was him?" Sam asked.

"Dean found his log book." you said.

"Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff, makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin." Dean said.

"Yeah, real fucked up shit." you said, shaking your head.

"But it was the patients who rioted." Sam said.

"Well, can you blame them, Sam?" you asked.

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it." Dean said.

"Instead, it fuckin' backfired and only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So, we're thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? You know, being a dick even in the after life." you said.

"Think about it, the cop, the kids in the seventies. He was making them so angry that they became homicidal. Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em." Dean said.

"How? The police never found his body." Sam said.

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he'd work on his patients." Dean said.

"I know if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on him myself, give him a taste of his own fuckin' medicine." you said.

"I don't know. It sounds kinda..." Sam trailed off.

"Crazy?" Dean filled in.

"Yeah." Sam said.

"Yeah. Exactly." Dean said.

Dean opened another door, and looked inside before gesturing with his head for you and Sam to follow.

"I told you guys. I didn't find a hidden room." Sam said, you and Dean checking the walls.

"Well, that's why they call it hidden." Dean said.

"You hear that?" you asked, what sounded like wind catching your attention, Dean nodding his head.

"What?" Sam nervously asked, as you and Dean looked around.

"There's a door here." Dean said, crouching down and holding his hand out, you quickly joining his side.

"Dean. Y/N." Sam said, pointing his gun at the two of you, a trickle of blood running from his nose. "Step back from the door."

"What the fuck are you doin', Sam?" you asked, your eyes on the gun as you stood up.

"Sam, put the gun down." Dean said, rising to his feet.

"Is that an order?" Sam asked.

"Nah, it's more of a friendly request." Dean said.

"Listen to him, Sam, put the fuckin' gun down." you said.

"'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders." Sam said to Dean before turning to you, "Both of your orders."

"I knew it. Ellicott did something to you." Dean said.

"For once in your life just shut your mouth." Sam said, "That's all both of you do....talk."

"What are you gonna do, Sam? Guns filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill us." Dean said.

Sam pulled the trigger, shooting Dean in the chest, the shot blasting him backwards through the hidden door.

"God damn it, Sam!" you yelled, looking behind you, trying to see Dean, Sam now aiming the gun at you.

"It may not kill you, but it will hurt like hell." he said, you turning just in time to see him pull the trigger.

You and Dean were both lying on the floor, both gasping for air after coming to.

"I...can't wait...to roast that motherfucker." you panted out, Dean looking over at you, making sure you were okay.

"Sam!" he said, Sam standing over the two of you. "We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal." Dean said.

"I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Cause you're following Dad's orders, and she's too scared to disappoint you and say anything. That's why she never goes against you. You always do what Dad says without question, and then she does what you say, like a trained dog. Are you that desperate for Dad's approval, Dean? Are you that desperate for Dean's, Y/N?" Sam asked.

"Fuck you." you spat out, looking up at him.

Sam chuckled, "Oh, here we go, the whole I'm so tough act. The I'm not scared of anything bullshit you always pull. Yeah, we can see right through that, Y/N. You aren't fooling anyone, just yourself. We both know that you're scared, scared that Dean's gonna realize what a freak you really are and toss you aside." Sam said, looking down at you.

"Like I said, fuck you." you seethed.

"This isn't you talking, Sam." Dean said.

"That's the difference between you guys and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic like you two." Sam said.

"So, what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill us?" Dean asked.

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you guys tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago." Sam said.

"Well, then here. Let me make it easy for you." Dean said, holding out his gun to Sam. "Come on. Take it." Dean said.

"Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." you said, going along with Dean, knowing that he had something up his sleeve.

"Take it!!" Dean yelled, Sam taking the gun and pointing it at Dean. "You hate us that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Your best friend? Then go ahead, pull the trigger. Do it!!" Dean yelled.

Sam pulled the trigger, but the chamber was empty. He tried again, and then once more, the result the same every time, giving Dean enough time to hit Sam, knocking him to the ground.

Both you and Dean got to your feet, Dean moving to stand over Sam, "Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol." Dean said, Sam glaring up at him.

Dean delivered a vicious right cross to knock Sam out, almost falling over as he did so. "Sorry, Sammy." he said, patting Sam.

"Alright, let's go find those fuckin' bones and get this shit over with." you said, the two of you starting to look around the room.

"You know, you didn't seemed too freaked back there when I handed Sam my gun. You kinda just went with it." Dean said.

You shrugged your shoulders, "What can I say? I trust you." you said, noticing a bit of something sticking out of a closed cupboard, "I figured you had a plan." you added, nudging Dean to get his attention.

Dean moved closer to the cupboard and opened the door to find a mummified corpse, both of you flinching back and gagging.

"Jesus fucking Christ." you said.

"Oh, that's just gross." Dean said before salting the body. "Soak it up."

Dean dropped the salt container, and you passed him a small tin of kerosene. He squirted the body, both of you completely oblivious to the presence behind you until a gurney came flying across the room, knocking both of you to the ground.

Dr. Ellicott appeared in front of both of you, and reached down to grab Dean's face, his hand lighting up, "Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you feel all better." Ellicott said.

You crawled over to Dean's bag, quickly finding his lighter. You flicked it open and struck it before tossing it onto the mummified body.

Dr. Ellicott let go of Dean as his remains started to burn, Dean crawling out of the way, both of you watching as Ellicott's ghost turned black before falling to the ground and crumbling on impact.

"Take that...you crazy fuck." you said, Dean collapsing on the floor next to you.

"Thanks, Singer." he said.

"Anytime, De." you said, patting his arm, Sam starting to wake up.

You and Dean looked over at him as he flexed his jaw painfully.

"You're not going to try to kill us, are ya?" Dean asked.

Sam raised his hand to push at his jaw, "No." he said.

"Good...because that would be fuckin' awkward." you said.

The three of you were standing outside the asylum with Kat and Gavin, the sun shining brightly overhead.

"Thanks, guys." Kat said.

"Yeah, thanks." Gavin quickly added.

"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean said.

"Yeah, the next time you're looking for a date idea go with pizza, beer, and Zeppelin IV." you said, missing the way Dean's mouth turned up at the corner.

The three of you stood back and watched Kat and Gavin walk away, giving them one final wave goodbye before turning to the Impala.

"Hey, guys?" Sam said, you and Dean turning to look at him.

"I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there." Sam said, looking at the two of you apologetically.

"You remember all that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it, but I didn't mean any of it." Sam said.

"You didn't, huh?" you asked, eyeing Sam, still feeling a little salty.

"No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep." Dean said.

"Yeah, me too." you said, climbing into the car.

The three of you checked into a motel, the boys letting you grab the first shower this time.

You walked out about fifteen minutes later, "Next." you said, pulling on your gloves as you sat down on the end of the bed.

"Go ahead, Sam." Dean said, Sam getting up to walk to the bathroom.

Dean turned to you once Sam closed the bathroom door, "How bad did he get ya?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I've had worse." you said, Dean coming to sit next to you.

"Let me see." he said.

"I told you...I'm fine." you said, not wanting to worry him.

"Please?" he asked, needing to see for himself that you were okay.

You flopped back on the bed, sighing dramatically as you lifted your shirt, pulling it up just enough for him to see where you got hit, the shot hitting you right at the apex of your ribcage.

"See, just fine." you said, Dean ghosting his fingers over the already forming bruise.

Dean let out a slow breath, leaning down until his forehead rested on your stomach, his hands on either side of your waist, "Hey, I'm fine, okay? Just fine." you said, again, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

"I...you just really scared me." he said, turning his head to the side, still laying it on your stomach.

"I'm sorry." you said, your fingers moving to card through the hair on the back of his head, Dean raising his head to look up at you.

"I thought...I thought..." Dean said, trailing off, unable to say the words, his hands gripping your harder.

"Hey, I told you before that I wasn't going anywhere and I meant it." you said, the bathroom door opening, Dean quickly sitting up.

"I, uh, saved you some hot water." Sam said to Dean, trying not to look at you or his brother as you pulled your shirt down.

Dean looked over to you, as if he was asking your permission, "Go." you mouthed, Dean standing up and walking to the bathroom.

You moved up in the bed once the bathroom door closed, pulling back the covers before laying down on your side of the bed.

"Y/N, I really didn't mean that stuff." Sam quietly said.

"I know. Don't worry about it, Sammy. Everything's fine. Let's just get some sleep." you said before turning away from him.

You felt Dean's side of the bed dip a few minutes later, the lights in the room already out. He crawled into bed beside you and pulled you back into him, his arm coming to wrap around your waist, almost as if he was scared to not be touching you.

You could feel how tense he was, "Hey." you said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "Relax, okay? Everything's fine. Get some sleep, De. I'll still be here in the morning." you said, Dean still holding you tightly to him, but you could feel his body start to relax.

The three of you were sleeping, you and Dean tangled up in each other as a phone started to ring.

"Dean." Sam said, Dean not moving.

Sam frowned and grabbed Dean's phone from the night stand before checking the number and flipping it open.

"Hello." Sam said, listening a moment before sitting up straight in bed, "Dad?"

A/N: I just want to say a big thank you to everyone that takes the time to read this. I really appreciate it. I love hearing what you guys have to say. I'm a socially awkward train wreck, so I may not always reply, but I want you all to know that I truly appreciate each and every one of you. <3 <3

Tags: @miraclesoflove @22sarah08 @deans-baby-momma @spnae @karikatz12481 @spngirl05 @winchester-fantasies @freddiemermaytaydeac @rainbowkisses31 @in-deans-arms @scentedhoundshepherdmoney @teamfreewillisbae @it-could-go-off @moonlight-on-her-skin

#supernatural #series rewrite #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fic #dean x you #dean winchester #reader insert #dean #sam winchester #spn fic #spn

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duhliriouss · 4 years

Text

Joker One Shot:

Painted Faces

Request: Hey, can i request a headcanon (or one shot if you like) for Joker and reader painting each other's faces, because reader wants to be a clown too, so she starts daub her face with Joker's greasepaint and he finds her doing it, and he helps her? That would be cute I think. :)

A/N: @ohallthecrushes I got so into this that I finished quicker than I thought! I also got a little too into it and forgot that you wanted reader to paint Jokers face as well :( I hope you like it nonetheless! It’s kinda more sexy than cute but I’m pretty happy with how it came out. I hope you are too 🤎 oh and also.. I write on my phone and can’t figure out how to add breaks in my posts so I’m so sorry if this blows up your feed for anyone..

Word Count: 2,199

Warnings: mentions of sexual tendacies, mentions of nudity, violence, some angst?

You sat with your legs bent in front of you outside the apartment window on a small roof overhang that overlooked the rundown streets of Gotham. It was windy so your (y/h/c) hair flew a tad viciously In and around your face.

You liked to sit here and smoke your cigarettes waiting for Joker to come home. You would people-watch at the chaos that persisted every day down below you. It kept you at ease at this point.

You and Joker were called the king and queen of Gotham. Although you didn’t enjoy the publicity as much as he did.

So you sat from afar most days. Looking down at the beautiful mess your clown had created for the both of you.

Your eyes flicked around casually looking for any hints of reds and greens. You never knew when Joker would return. It was different day by day. He became a busy man after throwing over the city. The whole world as far as you could tell had heard about the Infamous Joker. It created a mass over throw of government everywhere. People wanted him dead. Lots of people. So most days he was out without no telling when he would be back. Lots of times you went with him. But he encouraged you this morning to stay home this time. It wasn’t safe.

You sighed anxiously. Giving up on your routined lookouts, you stood up and made your way back into the flat, careful not to trip over your black red and blue checkered skirt while stepping back through the window.

You left the window open to be able to still feel the nipping breeze as you paced around the flat. You were so tempestuously bored. You counted your paces, holding your hands tightly behind the small of your back. Your eyes flickered to any possible thing that could save you from the dullness this day has given you. Little huffs of disapproval left your lips each time you flicked your eyes to each corner of the room.

Giving up fast, you walked into Joker and yours bedroom. You looked around desperately until your eyes laid on Joker’s cassette player that laid scrambled on the round wooden table in the left corner of the room. Piles of cassettes toppled over each other, there was so many that some must have trickled onto the carpet.

Waisting as many seconds as possible, you walked over and began to pick them from the ground, shuffling each between your hands to read each one before placing them back on the table neatly. You moved your thumb away to read one that caught your attention.

“Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield”

You placed the rest of the cassettes that was tucked between each finger down on the table before putting that one cassette into the hatch, Flicking on the play button.

You closed your eyes and listened for a moment before turning your back to the table in approval. You began to sway into your steps gracefully around the bedroom barefoot. You took your left hand and lazily dragged it across the neatly made quilt that laid on the bed following to the end of the bed frame . Slipping your delicate fingers up to the top of the wooden bedpost. You let go to the batter of the music and swayed again to the other side of the room. Your right hand now fell to Joker’s vanity. You traced your fingers along everything that laid on the table. You traced over the words in his journal that was left opened, then quickly switched over to the photos that stuck to the sides of the mirror. Most of the photos were of you. Joker loved to take random pictures of moments he didn’t want to forget. A collection of them were mainly you posing naked. He always had a way of making them more tasteful than inappropriate; resplendently eye catching. It had become a hobby only shared between each other.

So entranced by your own thoughts, you failed to notice that Joker was home

And he was watching you.

The music was just loud enough to not hear him sneak in. He heard the music playing remotely in the other room as he silently stalked over with a smirk written on his face. He danced into each step gracefully. Soundlessly bringing himself to the door frame that connected to the bedroom you were in.

He placed both hands above his head resting on each side of the frame as he absorbed your every move.

You let your finger slowly fall down the length of the mirror followed by your gaze until your eyes landed on the basket of greasepaints and lipsticks. Excitement swelled throughout yourself as a sudden thought crossed your mind. You instinctively sat down in his seat and pushed yourself in. Placing both your hands on the vanity pondering what you should touch first.

Jokers lips parted slightly into an amused sneer, bringing his tongue up the front of his teeth in a gratified manner.

You began to swift through the paints looking for white, all the while singing along to the music that resounded the whole flat. Finally finding the white greasepaint, you let out a small squeal of pure excitement. How have you not thought of doing this before?

You flipped your hair behind your shoulders with a giant smile that stretched ear to ear. You dipped the paintbrush in generously and brought it up to your pale skin.

“Need some help darling?”

The little tinging sounds of the paintbrush falling to the vanity elucidated your shock. You whipped around to the familiar amused grin written all over Joker.

The end of song faded until silence fully filled the bedroom. He was clearly determined to see your cheeks turn a rosy shade of red. And clearly it didn’t take much. Your cheeks beamed and your wide (y/e/c) eyes looked up at him bashfully. Your jawline held a small streak of white.

“I um.. I wanted to.. I-I’ve been so bored today being alone all day. I just wanted to see what Id look like as a clown too..”

You lowered your head shamefully. You weren’t quite sure why you were so embarrassed. You felt caught in the act of something you haven’t done before.

Joker let out a series of chuckles before making his way over to you. His slender finger lifted your chin until you looked up into his admiring eyes, a pout written evidently on your face.

“I want to see too” he nodded his head slightly as he spoke, his grin widening.

Your pout quickly turned into a wicked grin that matched his own. You closed your eyes and hummed into his hand that now cupped your face.

He leaned in, tickling your face with his hair as he did so. His cheek rested on your eye as he kissed your temple before doing the same to other side, then finished with a passionate kiss to your lips.

He pulled away now. And without any permission, placed his hands underneath the wooden dining chair, turning it away from the vanity and toward the side to face him. You complied silently, anticipation filling your stomach deliciously. You watched his every move.

There was another chair that was next to the vanity that held many VHS tapes. He picked them all up in one swoop, tossing them onto the bed. He then brought the chair to face yours, creaking the floor as he did so. He took a seat, spreading his legs as he leaned forward past you to pick up the paintbrush up off the vanity. Your nostrils filled with his heavenly scent that you could never get enough of.

“Lean towards me doll”

“Okay”

You leaned forward and closed your eyes. His right hand rested on your thigh just beneath your skirt. It was cold and sent shivers up your spine. You visibly shook and let your lips part slightly.

Joker watched you intently. He was already so In tuned with the reactions he gave you. Most of the things he did was all on purpose anyway just to see your captivating reactions. And oh did it please him.. watching you being a dismantled mess under his touch.

With one last kiss on your still parted lips, he dipped the paintbrush into the white paint and brought it your flushed cheeks. You twitched, trying to quickly accustom yourself to the sudden coolness.

“How was your day Princess?”

“Boring. Oh so so boring” you aspirated dramatically. Letting out a childish giggle which Joker harmonized along with you.

“Shh. Keep your face still”

“How was your day?”

“Wonderful now” he cooed

You let out another warm hum while he finished turning your face into a bright flash of white. His hand still laid on your thigh for leverage while he continued with his masterpiece. He reached behind you again to clean the brush and came back with a new color dipped on the bristles.

You finally opened your eyes for the first time since he started. A flash of confusion crossed your eyes at the black paint that engulfed the brush. Joker was quick to read and respond to your expressions and mannerisms as he always did.

“I’m replacing the blue with black for the eyes. Everything else will stay the same. It will make your beautiful (y/e/c) eyes pop” his voice cracked as he gave you a charming smile

“whatever you say” he always put you in a trance when he talked to you like that.

He continued on with his mastery taking his time to make sure it was perfect. He licked the bottom of his lip, pausing occasionally to take in the mask that hid your sweet innocence. He’s never seen you like this before. And he wanted to see it more often. You both didn’t talk much as he finished. You and joker were so in sync with each other that you didn’t have to talk all the time. You both just knew. And you couldn’t explain it. But the feeling was so raw and rhythmic.

“All done my Queen” Queen?

You fluttered your eyes open to find Joker looking smugly back at you. Both hands now found your thighs as you turned your head to look in the mirror.

“Wow..”

“You like it?”

“I love it..”

Joker swiftly stood from his chair, placing it back against the wall. You watched as he shuffled over to his cassette player, digging through the tapes, letting them fall to floor.

You huffed with a roll of your eyes.

“I just picked those up!”

“Shh”

Finally finding the one he was looking for, he placed it in the hatch and turned it on, spinning around back to you.

Didn’t I Blow Your Mind This Time - The Delfonics

His steps danced over to you in a flash, reaching out his hands for you. You intuitively placed your hands in his letting him bring your weight up to his chest, expecting him to lead you in a dance. Instead he turned you around by the hips to face the mirror, reaching around you to move the chair you were sitting in to the side. He stood behind you and moved his hands from your hips to the underneath of your arms, bringing them up until they were parallel to the ground. His face came in from the side and nuzzled in the crook of your neck as he spoke, letting his hot breath send shocks throughout your core.

“Your officially a queen now baby girl”

“I am?”

“Mhm, and I think we found your signature look”

You let your head rest against his as he dragged his hands back to your hips. He swayed you back and forth to the melody that boomed the whole apartment. His head still in the nook of your neck, leaving hot kisses. He spun you around again and took your hand in his, leaving his right on the small of your back. He led you softly and rthymically across the wooden floor. Swirling you around with his arms in the air with yours shortly before bringing you back up against his chest.

The music took over your body and beamed through every vein and vessel of your being. You kept your eyes locked as he twirled and spun until dipping you down low to the floor, letting your long (y/h/c) hair brush against the cold wood. He brought you up again and took you with him in wide circles. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back, welcoming the dizziness that swelled in your head. Joker took that opportunity to shower the front of your neck and chest with kisses, leaving marks of red and white greasepaint. You whimpered In approval. He brought you in slowly until your chests heaved against each other. You were both out of breath, feeling each other’s hot pants against your lips. He brought both hands around you and swayed you more lazily. He placed his forehead against yours as he rocked you more gently.

“Joker?”

“Yes kitten?”

“You’re such a good dancer..”

“I know”

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jungshookz · 5 years

Text

the one where yoongi finds the scrapbook you didn’t have the chance to give him

☁ pairing: min yoongi x reader

☁ genre: android!yoongi universe, heartwrenching angst, sad hours!!

☁ summary: yoongi misses you more than you could ever know.

☁ wordcount: 2.4k

☁ trigger warnings: mentions of character death

☁ note: sUPER!!!!! important that you listen to this while you read the drabble to set the mood! i tried to keep the drabble short so that you’d be able to finish reading it just as the song wraps up buT once again this was a baby drabble that spun out of control so i suppose you could always play it on repeat til ya finish reading lol // this drabble honestly came out of nowhere buT it was really gloomy out today so i wrote a drabble inspired by the movie ‘up’

(gif isn’t mine!)

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

yoongi first stumbles upon the scrapbook when going through the closet to choose an outfit for you (he ended up choosing that dark blue floral dress you liked so much)

he thought it was one of your old notebooks from university but… it’s not

it was tucked underneath a whole bunch of old shoe boxes filled with extra nuts and bolts and wires

‘𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓯𝓯 𝔀𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭’

yoongi furrows his brows as he brushes his fingers over the foam letters that have obviously been hot glued onto the front of the faded leather journal

he opens the book to a random page and his eyes immediately start watering when he sees your handwriting

you always did have the prettiest handwriting

‘remember when-‘

yoongi slaps the book shut and shakes his head before tucking it away and getting back up onto his creaky knees

(namjoon’s starting to lose his touch) ((yoongi noticed his frail fingers trembling the other day when he was tightening a screw in his leg))

he’s not going to read the book

yoongi shuts the closet door quietly

he’s not going to even open the book

the thing is

yoongi still hasn’t touched the book but he’s thought about it every single day

he hasn’t touched it because he knows that if he opens it up and looks through it the realisation that you’re no longer with him will finally start to sink in

he knows it’s been two months since you passed

he knows it’s been two months since he last held your hand and kissed you and told you how much he loved you

he knows it’s been two months since he last woke up to the sight of you curled up next to him

he knows it’s been two months since he’s started coming back to a cold and dark apartment instead of a warm and bright one where you greet him at the door and smother him in kisses before starting to blab about your day

it’s just

weird

it’s weird not having you around

it’s weird not hearing you tinker around in the kitchen at three in the morning snacking on some animal crackers or going hAm on a tub of ice cream (even after all these years he still thinks it’s funny how you always seem to think you can get away with your midnight snacking)

it’s weird having to wash and dry the dishes all by himself because you were always the designated dryer and he’s caught himself holding out a freshly washed plate next to him on more than one occasion

he’s used to you standing right next to him and now there’s no one there

it’s weird doing all the chores alone

you were awful at folding the laundry but yoongi liked having you next to him struggling to fold up a pair of jeans

it’s weird not seeing you vacuum the living room while humming a song to yourself and bopping around all over the place

it’s weird when he cooks dinner now because he doesn’t have you peeking over his shoulder and begging him to give you a little taste of the spaghetti sauce before he plates dinner

it’s weird watching tv alone

it’s weird not turning his head and seeing you all snuggled up on your sofa chair because you fell asleep halfway through a movie of yoongi’s choice (you were never really an action movie person)

it’s weird not having to pull the covers aggressively over him halfway through the night because you were always a blanket hogger

it’s weird not making faces with you in the mirror every morning when the two of you are brushing your teeth

he hasn’t touched any of your things

your toothbrush is still sitting next to his

the right side of the bed still belongs to you

the framed picture of you and namjoon from university days still sits on your bedside counter (right next to the framed picture of you and yoongi at that pottery place you took him to for his birthday) ((the two of you are sitting across from each other and your clay-stained hands are squishing yoongi’s cheeks together while yoongi’s face is all scrunched up)) (((jungkook took the photo)))

the right side of the closet still belongs to you

all your old cardigans and sweaters and t-shirts (some borrowed aka stolen from yoongi) are still hanging there

the knitted blanket that he made for you still hangs over the arm of your chair in the living room

he hasn’t even touched the jar of soft caramel chews that sit on the coffee table (it took a loT of convincing for yoongi to let you fill an entire jar up with candy)

the apartment is far too quiet

the only thing that can be heard right now is the soft pitter patter of the rain against the windows and the occasional rumble of thunder

yoongi glances out the window for a brief second and watches as a flash of lightning lights up the sky for a moment

it’s been raining a lot as of late

you always thought that rainy days were perfect for staying inside to snuggle up together and read a book

yoongi perks up slightly and looks down the hallway to where the bedroom is

…a book.

“You were never really an arts and crafts person, so this is a surprise to me.” yoongi says aloud as he sits back down on his chair with the leather scrapbook on his lap

he smooths a hand over the front cover and raises a brow when he notices one of the foam letters coming loose “You have the crafting abilities of a child, you know that?”

he can practically feel you slapping his arm and letting out a whine at how hard he’s ripping into your crafting abilities

he gives it a quick flip through as to prepare himself for all the things he’s about to see

the book is practically bursting considering it seems like you tried to shove as much stuff in here as possible

also the pages smell like the perfume you like to wear

very sweet and flowery

you’ve taped polaroid pictures in there along with other little mementoes like movie tickets and a copy of your work ID from bangtan laboratories and even a copy of yoongi’s blueprints that you stole from namjoon and a couple dried petals from the bouquet of roses yoongi gave to you on one valentine’s day aND of course the bracelets you got from when yoongi took you to the winter carnival

there are even the photobooth pictures that you guys took at the carnival

yoongi proposed to you halfway through posing for pictures because he wanted to be able to capture the exact moment he asked you to marry him

the first picture is of you mimicking yoongi’s poker face (he always thought your poker face was shiT) ((and he was right)) with yoongi rolling his eyes next to you

the second picture is of you with your tongue sticking out and your eyes crossed as yoongi is faced away from the camera rummaging through his jacket pocket

the third picture is of you suddenly being aware of the purple velvet box yoongi has in his hand and the look of pure shock on your face aLways makes him laugh

the fourth picture is of you with watery eyes and a gaPing mouth because yoongi just asked you to marry him

and the last picture is of you practically tackling yoongi in the cramped booth

all that can be seen is one of yoongi’s legs and arms in the air because you did actually tackle him strAight out of the booth

he flips to the next page and purses his lips when he sees that there’s nothing on the page besides a hastily written note

‘flip to page 6’

yoongi can’t help but snort lightly when he sees the note you left for him on page 6

‘made you look, you gullible-ass android - you were always so easy to prank! still love you though xoxoxoxoxo’

it looks like you left a kiss mark next to the note even though it’s kind of faded now

he always liked it when you wore that wine-red lipstick

‘remember when you got mad at me for breaking my bracelet that one time? …i kind of did it again.’

you took your bracelet apart and pulled out the wires and then glued them into the shape of a heart for the sake of sticking it into your scrapbook and yoongi laughs lightly at the memory of him taking care of you all night after he picked you up from that club and you were practically stumbling all over the damn place

he remembers how you asked him to stay with you that night after he tucked you into bed

and he did

he stayed with you

you told him he was warm and he said it was because of his generator

he only said that because he was nervous!!!!

there’s a handwritten recipe for chocolate chip zucchini bread taped to this page

he smiles and dusts his fingers over the spot on the page that’s been stained with chocolate

he remembers how he insisted on making zucchini bread for your birthday instead of a traditional birthday cake because it was his way of sneaking more vegetables into your diet and aLso it has less sugar and is less fattening so!!!!

also zucchini bread is vEry good and you can’t even taste the zucchini so it’s a win-win situation

and somehow you had snuck into the kitchen while he left to go dig through the pantry for some sugar and you had sprinkled a handful of chocolate chips into the batter before quickly getting the heCk out of there

yoongi hadn’t noticed the chocolate chips until he cut a slice for you and noticed that his knife had streaks of melted chocolate and-

“You didn’t.” yoongi gawks and watches as you rip a chunk off and pop it into your mouth

you swallow your bite and hum happily “oh, but i did!”

yoongi sighs and reaches over to dot a bit of melted chocolate onto the tip of your nose “You drive me absolutely crazy, you know that?”

“i’ve been told.”

and on this page you made a little pocket and slipped the CD from your wedding into it

‘side a has our wedding video; side b has all the songs we danced to.’

yoongi recalls the night you came home with a whole list of songs that you wanted to dance to at the wedding

yoongi wasn’t programmed to be a dancing android so he was ready to download some software and become a professional waltzer in five seconds flat but you stopped him because you said you wanted to teach him how to dance

“Learning is hard.” yoongi grumbles as he tries to figure out the footwork of the waltz “Also, shouldn’t I be leading this dance?”

“i’m going to lose my toes if you lead the dance.” you snort and hit the play button on your phone “now, c’mon!”

yoongi lets out a sigh as you place your hand on his shoulder and he reaches out to grip at your waist

you take his other hand in yours and take a step forward

yoongi takes a step back at the same time

okay

yeah

this is boring

yoongi’s not doing this

“I do not want to waltz.”

you let out a gasp when yoongi suddenly spins you around in a circle before pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist

“Can we dance like this?” he grabs your arms before hanging them loosely around his neck

you let out a soft giggle and lean in to press your forehead against his as the two of you sway back and forth “you’re lucky i love you so much.”

“That is one of the reasons as to why you are marrying me, yes?”

“…you got me there.”

as he continues to flip through the book and look through all the memories that he shared with you, yoongi feels a lump growing in his throat and a twinge of pain blossom in his chest when he reaches the last page and sees that you’ve left a note for him

he brushes his fingers across each word

‘to my favourite human mind model adaptive super android, m1n y00ng1: thank you for giving me the best years of my life. thank you for being my best friend. thank you for the adventure of a lifetime. i love you. yours forever, y/n.’

the note is fairly short and sweet but it still manages to make yoongi let out a choked sob

thank you for giving me the best years of my life.

you were the best thing to ever happen to him

thank you for being my best friend. thank you for the adventure of a lifetime.

you made him so immensely happy and he’s enjoyed spending his life with you because you really were the love of his life

i love you.

he loves you now and he’ll love you forever.

he misses you.

he misses you so much it hurts

he misses the sound of your laugh and the feeling of your skin and the smell of your hair

he misses hearing you call for him when you need help with something and he misses having you scold him for not charging up overnight and instead playing video games with jungkook (it took more than a couple years but he eventually warmed up to the goofball)

yoongi’s vision is completely blurred from how many tears keep leaking out of his eyes

he reaches up to cover his face with his hands after a droplet drips down from his chin and bleeds into the paper

this is the first time he’s properly sobbed since your funeral

he kept it together for the most part but as soon as he got home and shut the door behind him he collapsed to his knees and began to cry his heart out

but of course

he knew that you always hated seeing him cry so he forced himself to get a hold of himself for as long as possible

but looking through this scrapbook that you made detailing your guys’ life together is just too much for him to bear

he holds the book to his chest and shuts his eyes before leaning his head back against the plush chair

a single tear rolls down the side of his face

yoongi misses you every day

but on your guys’ anniversary?

he can’t help but miss you a little more than usual.

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prynacle · 5 years

Text

[Fanfic] Father & Son

Lunoct Celebration Days @lunoctweek

August 30 || Day 1: Happy Birthday, Noctis!

Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum. Genre: Slice of Life. Summary: Regis, as King, has a lot on his plate: war, duty and even a prophesy, yet he manages those fairly well. Isn't it odd then that Regis, the father, can't make some time for his one and only duty?

[Epilogue]

Dejection.

The face his son briefly flashed after declining his quiet invitation to expend the afternoon together had definitely been one of dejection.

Naturally, Noctis had masked it as soon as it appeared, quick enough so that it didn’t linger on his mind, and he, who was too wrapped around the unflattering military news that reached him that morning, had accepted the answer despite a more perceptive part of his subconscious registering the detail. It wasn’t unexpected then why, after reciting a matter-of-factly rundown of his schedule to Noctis, their breakfast had turned uncomfortably silent, with what he now understood had been an unvoiced truth lingering heavy in the air.

The pregnant silence had been the reason why he had given it a thought afterwards in the first place, and now that he took the time to review what was say and done that morning, he felt ashamed of how blind he had been to all the signals that were clearly present.

Regis briefly rubbed his brown once the eyes around the ongoing council meeting turned to a member sitting far from him on the table, and seized the moment to dig further into his memory.

As expected, some details still didn’t catch up.

Because… when was the last time he made-up a bedtime story for Noctis? How many meals had he skipped with him in the last month? When was the last time his son had shown unannounced in his office? He honestly couldn’t remember, and the realization sent a shiver down his back.

Had he truly been neglecting his son? When King Mors still ruled, Regis had been involved early on external affairs. Theirs was a relationship grounded on war and duty; they had always been King and successor Prince, and while he never felt particularly close to Mors, the man, they bonded over a shared understanding of what was truly important: Eos.

That had been Mors and Regis. The same couldn’t be said for Regis and Noctis.

Having been firsthand witness of the horrors of the enemy, tasted defeat and felt the sorrow of trials yet to come, Regis set his mind on giving Noctis a life different to the one he had had.

It was not Noctis’ place to be at the center of a war at his tender age. All he ever wanted for him was to learn, love and smile; to experience life at its fullest, for as long as he could allow him. Thus, being a fatherly figure to him, especially to compensate since Aulea's absence, had been his priority early on, and he had managed fairly well until Niflheim started creeping closer again.

That is just how things are, says a voice in his head, and Regis finds himself somewhat agreeing. Everything he did, he did it to protect Noctis, his future...

…and everyone else’s.

As long as he were King, the crown weighed on him with responsibilities he needed to take care of if he wanted the best for his son. It was the right thing to do. He was justified.

That's what King Regis thought.

But Regis, the father, wasn’t blind to his excuses.

No matter how grounded on logic, reason, loyalty and sacred duty those were, there was no good enough of an excuse for placing those sad, resigned eyes on his young son.

The king would continue to rule, but the father... where had he gone? Sitting on a chair, forever mourning time lost? Now that he listened to him, it was obvious he had neglected himself, as much as he had his son. He yearned to do so much more for him-- with him.

To see that carefree smile on his son’s face would be his ultimate reward.

The focus around the table shifted again, and the meeting moved onto a review on public affairs that Regis was already updated on, so he allowed his mind to completely muffle out their voices, free to wander further away.

Lately, dinner had been the only moment he and Noctis shared together through the day.

Some days, when emergencies demanded, they could not even have that. Regis was too busy leading a country, and Noctis was too busy attending elementary school. Soon, his son would be hitting puberty, wouldn’t he? There he would start grown fast, too fast, and for a moment Regis entertained himself imagining what kind of man his son would become. With the way things were going however, he was afraid all that growth would happen away from his eyes.

If he didn’t pay him enough attention, he could soon end up dinning with a stranger at his table.

Waking out of his pessimistic trance, Regis shushed and chastised himself. Would Aulea be here, she would do as much. “Look at you. Aren't you overthinking it? That was never your strong point, Regis. Acting on your hunches has always earned you better results,” he could hear her remind him between chuckles.

Aulea always knew him best, in ways nobody ever did.

Making up his mind, he focused again in the ongoing discussion, decided to wrap things up as quickly as possible.

Today, he would expend quality time with his son.

It’s been far too long since.

Noctis sat on the grass, yawning under the shade of a few trees at the park outside the citadel, finally unsupervised.

He had managed to trick his chaperone into thinking he needed to practice nature drawing for art class at the castle’s garden, only to leave his tools abandoned under a bush and make his escape from the stuffy atmosphere of the citadel through his secret exit—a set of selected glass panels with loose, rusty screws. With each of his successful escapes came the taste of a thrilling sense of adventure, and he sometimes wondered if it was anything similar to how his father had felt when he went out with his friends outside the city, many years ago.

Like he once told him in his bed-time stories.

That, too, that had been many years ago.

Sighing, Noctis relaxed against the bark of one of the trees, its roots curved enough for him to lay at the right angle and be cradled without risking a stiff neck. Comfortable as he was, it wasn't hard to brush some flecks of hair aside to take in the soothing beauty of the trees surrounding him; the warm light of the sun seeping through the leaves, the lazy shadows they made around him, dancing along with the movement of the wind.

This was something he could do all day: sleeping against his favorite resting tree, away from the suffocating stiff attention of the castle’s personal. Just him, the sound of chirping birds and the wind caressing his hair and skin.

Sometimes it felt a bit cold at given moments, though.

And suddenly humid.

Actually, it was cold because it was humid, and only in this one specific spot on his face, too. Had a raindrop fallen from the tree leaves and he hadn't noticed?

Opening his eyes, Noctis' view was greeted by an endless sea of black.

“Woaaaah!” he yelped, tumbling back in the grass. From his place, flat atop the dirt ground some steps from where he had been sleeping, he saw the face of his offender.

Umbra’s black fur shined healthily under the afternoon light, the white mark on his snout bending around his cheerful expression. His wet nose was leaning close to where Noctis’ face had been moments before, and If he had noticed Noctis’ outburst, the dog feigned ignorance.

“Umbra! How did you find me? ...Ah, your nose…right, never mind.” Noctis said, the laugh in his voice still laced with lingering drowsiness. Getting up on his knees, Noctis patted Umbra's head, reassuring himself of his presence. “You scared me.”

Giving him a whine and a lick to his hand, Umbra sat back, waiting patiently for Noctis’ full attention as he finished scrubbing his eyes awake.

If the dog was here, it could only mean…

“Did Luna send something back already?” excitement filled Noctis face. Taking out his shared journal, he readied himself to read Luna’s handwriting under cover of the tree’s shadow. As he reached the latest entry page, his cellphone ringtone started beeping, and the caller’s ID on the screen had him on his feet in an instant.

Sliding the screen to answer, Noctis' hurriedly started to make his way back to the castle. He had barely time to catch his breath. “Dad?!”

“May I know where are you right now, son?” Noctis started jogging.

“I was just…the garden…” dammit, had he been discovered already? His mind razed for a decent lie, but if his father was the one calling, his chances of getting away with it were pretty low. He couldn’t just simply lie to him, not over a call right after his nap.

The small laugh on the other side of the line made him stop his jog completely, Umbra watching him with curiosity at his side. “You fell asleep on the gardens, didn’t you? I’ll be over there in a moment, don’t move.” The call ended, and move he did, shoving the phone back into his pocket and clutching the red diary hard to his chest while running through the small tunnels and alleys that shortcutted his secret road towards the castle. As he entered through the glass panels, he saw his father reach his chaperone side, exchanging a few words.

“This will have to wait, Umbra. Wait for me in my room, I will catch up later, ok?” Tucking the journal back into Umbra’s pouch, he dismissed him, approaching his father with a practiced calm he didn't currently feel.

“Father.”

The chaperone excused herself and went away, leaving King and Prince alone to talk. Alone. That in itself was a rarity, one that made his heart stir uneasily.

“Did something happen?”

“Yes." Looking up to his father, Noctis felt paralyzed by the intensity of his gentle stare. “Something changed indeed.”

Walking merely a meter behind his father's steps, Noctis felt his uneasiness start to waver. If he wasn’t in trouble for sneaking out, why had he come to look specifically for him? Willing his fingers to relax, Noctis considered his words carefully before asking. “Where are we going?”

Regis slows down his pace to match his own stride, walking now at his side. The creases on father’s brown softened slightly.

“When was the last time you and I used the training grounds together?”

Noctis doesn’t reply and Regis takes his eyes off him, seemingly gloomier.

“Too long, isn’t it?”

“…I’m still not allowed training.”

Sometimes, he wondered if he would ever be allowed training again.

Truth to be told, it had only been two years since his injury with the Marilith, but he had been already allowed to start participating in PE at school as early as last year, too. Training, however, was still off-talk.

The doctors never outright said it, but he understood that they were scared of him reopening his wounds somehow, claiming that the possibility of the involvement of the scourge and Oracle magic could have a negative reaction to his own magic. It was a risk they weren't willing to take, they said. What they didn't know, was that Luna had already dismissed that possibility, but that was something Noctis couldn't disclose to them.

Back when the incident happened, it had been Oracle Silva who had personally supervised his injury in Tenebrae, where it had progressed with good results, and even as he and his father had to abruptly return to Insomnia, his wound kept healing with the help of what he knew was magic, days after the announcement of the Oracle’s passing.

It was only because he showed signs of a generally weakened physique upon returning that Clarus had deemed it unwise for him to continue his training with his father, indefinitely postponing his armiger and magic inductions.

He would soon be eleven, and his weapon capabilities were flimsy at best, while he still didn’t have the basic grasp on warp and elemental magic down. His dad had been way ahead of him at his age, hadn't he?

And here he couldn’t even get some sort of…

Trust.

Trust that he was already fine and ready to become stronger. If only his dad could see how much he had progressed...

The weight of a hand on his shoulder took him out of his thoughts, looking up to see Regis smile warmly at him. He realized they had walked quite far from the gardens, to a section of the castle that seemed vaguely familiar.

In front of them, stood a door he hadn't seen in some time.

Extending his arm, his father pushed the doors to the Crownsguard training hall open, it’s creakings magnified by the echo in the empty room.

“I am not imposing on you, am I? If you would rather do something else…”

“That’s not it.”

He knows better than staring, but something in Noctis stops him from looking away from the long, graying strands hanging over his father’s eyes. Would this be fair?

“If you are scared of losing against this old man, you can say so, Noctis.”

He scowls, but it comes out looking more like a pout, and Regis cheeky smile grows wider.

That was exactly the opposite of what he meant, and he was certain Regis knew as much, but now his dad was taking the soccer ball from the supply cabinets, bouncing it on his good leg before dropping it to stop it under his shoe with a swift stomp.

“Don’t think I’ll be going easy on you, my son."

If Noctis was to have it his way, that wouldn't be changing anytime soon.

A/N: This is a very special fanfic for me, as it was the very first one I drafted, written before the game even came out. It took me 3 years to finally flesh it out, but here it is! Forgive me if the grammar seems a little wonky or stiff at times, I tried to fix and edit it as much as I could but, no matter how many time I reread it, there's still something... odd on it? Hopefully it doesn't come across as bad to you as I feel it is. If you can, tell me what you think of it!

As you can see, some parts are heavily influenced by the Brotherhood anime and Platinum demo too, with some sprinkles of A King's Tale. Noct and Regis' bond is a special one I‘ve always wanted to touch upon, and when Carbuncle commented that Noctis wanted to play soccer with his dad on the demo, I knew what I had to write about.

Also, don't worry about Umbra, he is having the time of his life spreading fur all over Noctis' bedsheets. There's still an epilogue coming, and it will be about what Luna sent in the notebook! This fic is part of the Lunoct celebration days, right? :p

Thanks for reading!

#LunoctCelebrationDays #Noctis Lucis Caelum #Regis Lucis Caelum #FFXV #Final Fantasy XV #FF15 #Final Fantasy 15 #wmine #mine #fic

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imaginary-portal · 5 years

Text

Lips

S2 Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning: gets a bit sexual

Masterlist

Enjoy :)

—————

You sigh as you lie down on the creaky motel bed. You had just successfully finished a vampire hunt and showered so now you can get some rest. The sun was rising through the curtains, but you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, so you let yourself drift into sleep. You weren’t asleep for long when you hear your motel door being barged open. A vampire hisses at you. Damn. You thought you got them all but apparently not. You quickly grab the machete under your bed and cut the vamp’s head off before it can pounce on you. Out of breath, you rest against the edge of your bed. You wipe off the splash of blood on your cheek using the back of your hand. Then you hear two other figures stumble into your room. It was none other than the infamous Winchester boys. They first stared at the dead vamp, then at you.

“You all right?” Sam asks. “Yeah I’m good.” You get off the ground and reach your hand out. “I’m Y/N.” You shake Sam’s hand. “I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean.” You nod. “Yeah I know you guys, I did a hunt with your Dad about a year ago.” Sam nods. Dean’s face goes stone cold. “Yeah, we were looking for him, now we’re looking for Azazel, the demon responsible for both our parents’ deaths. This hunt was just a little detour.” You nod and bite your lip. “I’m sorry for your losses.” Sam thanks you and invites you to breakfast with them. You accept and clean up the mess before leaving.

At breakfast you get a bowl of oatmeal, Sam gets a fruit salad, and Dean gets a triple stack of pancakes. Sam comments on Dean’s childishness, and Dean tells him to shut up as he shoves a bite of pancakes in his mouth. You eat in small bites, as you normally do in front of people you are less acquainted with. Dean licks a drop of syrup off of his lips and glances up at you. You quickly dodge his glance to avoid awkwardness. Sam clears his throat. “So, Y/N, where are you from?” You take a sip of your coffee before answering. “Well I grew up on a farm in Oklahoma, and then my parents were killed by a ghost when I was about 16. Ever since I’ve been on the road, learning the ropes of hunting along the way.” You guys talk more about hunting, specifically demons. You didn’t really have much experience with them, so Sam offered to bring you on a hunt for one. You gladly took the offer and went back to the hotel to grab your things. You hop into your junk car and follow their prestine Impala a few towns over.

The three of you do the typical rounds. First you check into a shady motel, then you dress up nice and carry your fake ids on you. When you get out of your room, you realize that you’re the first one ready. You sit down at a bench outside. You take out your journal of notes and write a new heading: Demons. Under the heading you wrote down everything you could remember that the Winchesters told you earlier. The door from the room next to you opens and out walks a couple, definitely hungover from a wild night. The girl had makeup that looked something from the 80s and the dude’s gelled back hair is still firm. They were dressed and walked extravagantly. Then, out pops a second girl from the room who is laughing. She is dressed normally, and looks attractive. As she walks by you she gives you a once over and winks at you. You smile and look down awkwardly. A small blush flushed your cheeks. Then, Sam and Dean exit their room and speculate at the party people. You stand up from the bench and approach them.

“Y/N, why don’t we drive you, we’re all going to the same place.” Dean says. Their both dressed nicely in suits. Dean especially, it fits his figure so nicely. He licked his lip as he adjusted one of his sleeve collars. You try to shoot a thought of lust away. You’ve got work to do, you can’t be checking him out. You agree to go in their Impala. Dean drives and Sam sits in the passenger seat. You are in the back, asking Sam more questions about the case. The victim was a teenage boy, who was slaughtered at an abandoned gas station at midnight. The police report spoke of a witness who saw a black cloud in the air. Dean buts into the conversation a few times, but not much. You arrive at the suburban home of the victim. The three of you approach the door with your badges in hand. Sam knocks on the door. The door opens and you see a middle aged woman with puffy eyes. She looks up with dread. “Good morning Mrs. Conroy, I’m agent Barnes and these are my partners Rogers and Romanoff. May we speak to you about Brogan?” Mrs. Conroy nods and slowly opens her door wider and lets you in. She offers you a drink but none of you take the offer. The entire time you watch as Sam and Dean do little demon tests on her as she doesn’t even notice. They ask her questions about Brogan, and you feel bad putting her through more grief as her answers did not help. After discussing, the three of you headed back to the car. You hop in and talk about what to do next.

“How about we split up? One group to the coroner another to the crime scene.” Sam suggested. “Okay. I call crime scene.” Says Dean, starting the car. “Y/N, you want to go with him?” Asks Sam. You say “Sure.” You drop off Sam at the coroner and head to the gas station. The ride was awkward. Sam tends to hold conversation better. Dean turns on the music and you hum along in the back seat. When you get to the gas station, Dean parks and you both walk to the front doors, demon supplies in hand. Dean strums a finger over the yellow caution tape, then rips it off. He opens the unlocked door and you both walk in slowly. The entire place was covered in a thick layer of grey dust. You walk around looking for a trace of sulfur, and you end up spotting it in the back corner, next to a human outline in white tape. Dean looks down at it, pursing his lips. He pinches a chunk of dust and smoothes it around his fingers. He whispers “Sulfur.” Once you walk around the relatively small store, you head out back to the surveillance room. Dean walks in first, and notices a portable cassette player laying perfectly on the desk. He picks it up and presses play. It’s hard to play so he leans over the table and holds it closer. He licks his lips and then purses them again. His necklace dangles. You stand by Dean’s side to hear the tape better. Your shoulders were barely touching.

“It just sounds like Latin gibberish to me.” Dean nods in agreement. He clicks off the tape and glances over at you. You look into his green eyes as he looks in yours. You felt a small tension rise in the room. You clear your throat and step away from the table, breaking your gaze from Dean. “So we got nothing.” Dean nods. “Pretty much.” You look around the room but it was boring, nothing to look for. Not even clutter on the shelves. The dim lights flicker. Dean opens the desk drawers when you see a black cloud of smoke approach you. It enters through your nostrils. “Hello Y/N, my name’s Sannan, we met earlier, remember? At the motel. Well I am taking over your concious now, but I will let you watch. Come on, let’s have some fun shall we?” There was nothing you could do but watch as events unfolded. “Any luck?” You, or Sannan, asked. Dean shakes his head. “Sam should call soon, though. Want to wait in the car?” Sannan takes the offer and takes you out with a little spunk in her walk. You hop in the car comfortably in the front seat. Dean gets in and glances at you before starting the car. Then, his phone rings. He raises an index finger. “One minute, it’s Sam.” Dean stepped out of the car and answered the phone. You couldn’t hear the conversation from inside, but here is how it went. “Heya Sammy whatcha got?” Sam sighs. “It looks like we have a demon that really likes this gas station. This is the third murder that happened here this year. And the demon is very, um,” Sam clears his throat. “Sexual, I guess is the word. You don’t want to know what it did to this kid. Anyway, you two stay safe, see you in a bit.” Dean nods. “Okay, we’re on our way to pick you up now. Bye.” Dean opens the door and hops back in the car. While he was on the call, the demon was ransacking your brain for ammunition to use. She found out how you find Dean attractive. You look at him flirtatiously. You smile and bite a finger. Dean looks unamused. “Everything all right, Y/N?” You nod. “Yeah, everything is just fine. You know, you’ve been driving me a little crazy with those lips of yours...” You get up close to Dean and put a finger on his lips, your body hovering over his. He looks down at your hand and then up at you. “They’re just, so, kissable.” You say as you lean in and kiss Dean. Dean clutches your arm with one hand and pulls your face in closer with the other. You run a hand through his hair. You scream in your head, warning Dean not to fall for this trap. The kisses get heated quickly, and you lean down and start to leave a trail of kisses on his neck. Dean starts whispering. At first you couldn’t hear it, but the demon inside you twitched. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” the demon tried to protest, but alas, she was exorcised from your body and sent back to hell. You passed out and fell on Dean’s chest.

When you awoke, you were in your motel room, wrapped comfortably in warm blankets. You looked around to see both Sam and Dean sitting in chairs around you. Sam was reading something on his computer and Dean was cleaning his gun. You didn’t know this at the time, but it was Dean who carried you in and tucked you in bed. You pulled yourself out of the covers and stepped out of bed. “What time is it?” You asked. “About 6 pm. How do you feel?” You yawn. “Fine.” Dean clicks his gun. “Sammy why don’t you get us some dinner. Everyone up for take out, and some beer?” You nod and put your hair in a messy bun. Sam takes an order, Dean throws him the keys to the Impala, warns Sam to not make a scratch on Baby, and Sam leaves the room. “So, is the case over now?” You stood about ten feet from Dean’s chair. Dean nods and says “Yeah. Sammy and I are going to leave in the morning, that is, if you’re as fine as you say you are.” You nod. “Yeah I’m fine. Just glad everything turned out okay.” Dean fiddles with a nob on the unloaded gun. “Yeah, I thought it was real for a minute. Sam warned me about the demon and it almost went over my head.” You both laughed. Once the laughter died down, you thought for a minute. “What if it was real?” Dean looked at you, you couldn’t read his expression. “What if that really was what I was thinking about all day?” Dean slowly gets up from his chair. You look down as he gets closer to you. He lifts your chin up with a finger. You are forced to lock eyes with him. “Then, I would have relief because I was thinking the same thing too.” You both smile and lean in for a kiss, this time much smoother, more authentic to you. Your hand wraps around the back of his neck and plays with his hair. Another hand grabs his bicep. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses your hips to his. This sparks a fire in the intensity between you two. Some tongue, soft moans, and neck kisses are introduced, just as you hear keys jingle in the door knob. Sam was back with dinner. The two of you detatched from each other and quickly fixed your hair and straightened your outfits. You put some distance between you and Dean by walking over to your bed. Sam enters. The three of you enjoy a nice meal and share good conversation about topics other than hunting. When it was time for the boys to depart, you say goodbye and give them hugs. Dean hugs you a little longer and stronger and you smell his colonge. You say goodbye one last time and Sam tells you to take care. That night you showered and got all packed for the next morning. You were just about to go to sleep when you heard a gentle knock at your door. You open the door to see Dean. “Did you forget something?” You asked, but Dean quickly attaches his lips to yours. He walks you backward without removing his lips and he closes the door. You press him against the door and kiss him stronger. You lock the door. Dean pulls the back of your thighs up and you jump so that he can carry you to the bed.

The next morning was an even tougher departure, Dean wouldn’t stop kissing you until Sam yelled at him. You both giggled. “Last night was great. I will always remember you Dean.” You kissed him slowly this time. “I will remember you too, Y/N.” He smiled. You closed the trunk to your car. You watched the Impala drive off before getting into your car and driving in the opposite direction towards your next hunt.

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural imagine #spn #spn imagine #crush imagine #imagines #imagine #fanfic #jensen ackles

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staarblaster · 5 years

Text

Chapter Three

Hey, guys, before I upload chapter three I want to add another really boring announcement. School starts up again in tomorrow days, and I know my uploading schedule will be scarce. However, I will try to have chapters up whenever I can. Anyways here is chapter three and four, four is going up with a separate post. My posting schedule will be pretty random and I will post when I can. Also,, I’m gonna take a hiatus, for a month(?)

Chapter Three

“The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself”-Mark Twain

Perfection (n): the embodiment of being perfect

My grandmother was my hero when I was little she would tell me stories about her childhood. Growing up her father was a sound technician for MGM and her mother did the makeup and sometimes the celebrities would come over on special occasions like her birthday.

I suppose that’s what prompted her to want to work in the media and journalism.

She used to tell me stories of her adventures, across Europe and her interviews with varying monarchies. It was on a train back to California where she met my grandfather, she was drinking a scotch soda, which unbeknownst to him was more soda than scotch.

He was deep in a game of poker with several of his friends who were coming down to California, she was drinking a scotch soda, unbeknownst to him had more soda than scotch.

He was deep in a game of poker with several of his friends, she watched in silence with both curiosity and intrigue, occasionally getting glares from the men sitting around the table.

She watched as her future husband flushed hundreds, more like thousands of dollars into the game until she confidently said she was going to play next which got a few hearty chuckles, which caused her to roll her eyes, most of them were drunk and she had a very good poker face. As the game commenced she managed to not just win back the money but two engagement rings, a pocket watch, and even her husband’s heart.

She used to tell me at the end of every story that curiosity and wit were our greatest gifts and with them, we could solve any mystery.

But once she died she became like a ghost, pictures of her were removed, only leaving rumors of her behind.

I couldn't let her disappear, so I decided to conduct my own private investigation.

When I was a little kid and I found a picture of her and my grandfather and my mom. I smiled as I held my first real lead.

In the picture, my grandparents looked so happy and then I noticed my mom hiding behind her leg. Slowly and gently I tried to remove the picture from the frame, and as I slowly got it out my mom ripped the picture from my hands.

Her facial expression was a bright beet red as she violently ripped it out of my hands.

“Why can't you just play your role, Juliana? For once I'd like if you kept your nose of business that doesn't even involve you. ”

I felt the tears swell up inside of me. But, instead of fighting back my better instincts (crying) I immediately hugged my mom.

She sighed,

“I love you Jules... sometimes I wish you'd be normal. Can you do that for me please?”

I nodded my head up and down slowly.

As she tucked me in again, she kisses my head and holds the photograph in her hands, the next day I decided to take a little more time to try and fit in.

From then on stopped keeping my blonde hair up and let it down, I ditched my glasses for my more comfortable contacts.

I started to get involved more but it never seems to be enough for my parents. They kept insisting that I should do more, eventually leading me to dance and violin lessons (fortunately only lasting two years).

In the dance class, I realized that I was going to need ”subjects” after all a queen couldn't lead on her own.

In the dance class, I found the Chrissy's, they seem to have the dance studio under their boot heel.

If I could “liberate” them perhaps they'd follow me.

It didn't take long before I eventually made two friends in the class, Ophelia and Madison.

Madison was at least five foot eight and according to the Chrissy's had two left feet. She had light dyed purple hair and her eyes were a light Hazel although she seems like the last person that would be in the dance class she could actually dance pretty well. She would put the facade of insecurities but with confidently dance to Tchaikovsky. She was free to express who she was, as dancing was apart of her.

Ironically, however, being raised by a single dad and four brothers she had to keep the tougher shell in class for the sake of showing fragility. However, once she opened up she was loyal, dedicated and a really good listener.

Ophelia had a caramel skin tone, she was shy and had a shortened forearm but had the biggest heart.

She would walk dogs, and volunteer anywhere to show that she wasn't a girl with just a short arm.

As our friendship blossomed we decided that we would have a come have a “dance battle” against the Chrissy’s which was seen as ridiculous. But my girls and I were ready we could be successful.

However, on the day of our “battle” Ms. Clarke surprised us with all one-on-one auditions with Warren Academy, i.e one of the most prestigious art boarding school, it was basically Teen Julliard. Not everyone would make it in (obviously), but if you did you had potential to be a Broadway legend.

Krissy and I were unfortunately paired together and our theme was duality. One of us would play the person staring into the mirror “angel” and the other would play the reflection the “devil”.

Of course, yours truly got stuck playing the devil and Krissy had to defeat me. Everything was going smoothly but as soon as I was getting ready to give Krissy my final blow Krissy had stepped on my ankle hard.

She claimed that it was an accident only to tell her friends that was indeed deliberate which prompted a) Warren offered me a full scholarship b) my parents threatened to sue the dance studio and Krissy's parents of criminal action weren't taken.

Eventually, it was with Krissy being sent to juvie for two to five years.

As I began to start at my new school Maddie, Ophelia and I began to drift away from each other. I had to do well in this Art School even if I was alone.

Over time I gained a sort of popularity stemming from the incident with my ankle it just started casually saying that I broke it following an audition and then warping into a story of me breaking it while I was on a Broadway stage.

My attempts to quell the rumors only spawn more rumors and newfound popularity and a new boyfriend. My life completely changed when I entered Warren and I never expected any more changes.

---

Wednesday’s were personally my favorite day of the week: Dance team and theatre practice. We were putting on the musical Chicago.

I had gotten lucky and was allowed to the Assistant Choreographer.

Between that and balancing four classes, two of which being Advanced Placement it was a miracle I could stay focused.

I heard my phone’s alarm going off as well as an obnoxiously loud knock. I tried to stop my alarm which was Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall from the speakers of my phone which I did kind of successfully.

I opened the door, I saw one of the girls from my dance team, her face was completely flushed, it was clear that she had ran to see me.

Her breathing was hitched, I awkwardly invited her inside my single room, and got her some water to drink which she drank eagerly. I recognized her immediately, she was Hana Andersen, a shy yet over-eager freshman on the dance team. She was a little rusty but was a little ball of energy when it came to freestyle.

“Han you wanna tell me what’s going on?” I asked carefully.

My door was closed, so no one could see the empathy I had hidden for years.

Her hands started to shake and I gently started to coax her into speaking, and she gently took a small breath.

“I-I...Don’t think I’m fit to be at Warren,” she whispers.

Her tone is soft and a bit distressed, but still sad nonetheless.

I nodded, gently taking her hand,

“You know.. I think you do. Everyone’s been in your shoes at least once. Hell, even you can’t expect to become a star overnight. If you want I can help you, at least if you want me too?”

Hana’s eyes light up as well as faintly brimmed with tears and she nods overzealously and immediately hugs me.

“Thank you! Thank you, Juliana...Jules!”

I nod and look at the time, 7:25 am. Shit, if I’m not careful I’m going to miss breakfast.

“Meet in my room before dinner?”

She nodded again, as she opened the door and smiled, and said

“Pink Floyd's my brother’s favorite! ”

I smile and lie effortlessly,

“Same with mine.”

I closed the door behind me, I looked at the time again, 7:32. There was no way I was going to get breakfast in time, I had to take a shower and get ready for my advanced English class across campus.

I frowned, going straight to the back of my room grabbing my lilac and rosewater body wash.

I pulled out my school sweater and a pair of leggings, fortunately, there was also a pair of flats by my bed frame.

I grabbed my ID plus my shower stuff and was surprised at the silence as I walked through the hallway of my residence hall.

It was a nice contrast from the usual hustle and bustle I usually experienced which came from running several clubs and homework as well as living in New York.

As I got out of the shower and put on my “runway” outfit and I was greeted with several texts from my Dance Team Group chat and Jaxson (my boyfriend).

Where are you 😟

We’re abt to go on!! 💃🏻💃🏿👯

hey babe, dunno if you forgot lol u dont forget. First classes are canceled. the big pep rally with the new students. the dance team is looking for u! 8:25!

My eyes widened in shock, how could I have forgotten that. There was no time to change and I couldn’t miss this especially with the rumor of a Broadway talent scout in the audience.

I texted them both back

On my way!! ✨💜

I grabbed my backpack, my English Book and quickly ran to the gymnasium and I saw my team about to go out on the floor.

“H-hey! I’m here!”

Jaxson immediately hugs me,

“Jules! Thank god! ”

I smiled immediately kissing his cheek.

“Let’s get this show on the road!”

“You’re gonna kill it!” Jaxson said excitedly.

As we get ready to get on the dance floor Hana looks at me and then looks awkwardly at Victoria who is scowling at me.

Victoria was about 5’7”, dark blonde hair and dark blue eyes, she was the lead in the musical who personally wanted my job as the assistant choreographer.

“What the fresh hell are you wearing?!” she hisses at me as we enter the gym.

I ignore her for a moment, but for a moment smile,

“I’m just showing school spirit”

As the music starts, I feel like I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, people murmuring to each other and then I make eyes with the talent scout. Her eyes are a cold and piercing amberish hazel and I can feel my hands shaking and I get cold and sweaty, it goes black almost immediately.

---

I’m in the woods, its calm, and I know I’m not home. The surroundings are familiar yet strange and I could assume this could only be how this is how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole.

I turn for a moment, seeing a girl, she couldn’t be older than me but if she is it has to be a least a year’s difference.

She looks at me with a small smile, there is a quartz crystal crown on her head. She walks closer to me, gently placing a warm hand on my cheek. Her voice is calm as she gently says.

“You need to wake up. We’ll meet again soon Jules. I promise”

My eyes shoot open and I realized that I was in the nurse’s office and I see Jaxson is holding my hand. He smiles looking at me with calm jade green eyes.

“You feeling okay?”He gently squeezed my hand.

Jaxson opens his mouth to start talking, almost immediately the school nurse comes in.

“You had a textbook anxiety attack. I’d recommend resting, I’ll write you a note excusing you from class. Just collect your homework.” she says as she writes something down on a blue slip of paper.

Jax holds my hand as I get out of the cot, and I take the blue slip from the nurse’s hand.

“Take it easy Jules... Don’t overexert yourself.” the nurse recommended.

As we exited the office Jax kissed my cheek, and walk around the campus to collect my textbooks.

“You wanna get lunch at my parent’s place. You didn’t get to eat breakfast today.”

I was about to say yes but I got a text from Reyna, Victoria’s understudy for the role of Roxie Hart in Chicago.

Can u pls pls help w All that Jazz 😟

I sighed, telling myself I’d eat dinner, besides Reyna was more important especially with the show being the first mark as a choreographer. Sure, I had choreographed the dance team routines but this was bigger.

“We can grab lunch tomorrow?”

Jaxson kisses my forehead and walks off.

“Of course love”

Sure np! Lemme drop off my books.

I put my phone in my pocket, and I notice a tour going on the group looks pretty excited, but as the group gets closer, one of the girls sticks out.

She has a small silver stud in her right nostril, and her brown hair has been cut short. But otherwise, her other features look the exact same from when we were kids.

Under my breath, I silently muttered out of fear and confusion.

“Krissy?”

It couldn’t be, could it?

I unlocked the door to my dorm and dropped off my books and texted Reyna to let her know that I was on my way. As I walked into the room I checked my old group chat, the last messages were old invitations and good luck messages from Ophelia and Maddie.

Hey, I know I haven’t been on here much but I’m p sure I saw Krissy? Wanna meet for some 🍕 Maybe @ 7 ✨💜

I shove my phone into my pocket and heading to the music room and I see Reyna stretching on the bar, as she finishes, she notices me and gives me a smile.

“Ready?” I ask her curiously as I set up the music track up on my phone.

She nodded,

“As I’ll ever be.”

I nod,

“5...6, 7,8” As I hit the play button and watched her sing and dance, there were instances where she’s strong like her singing, but her dancing gets sloppy when the chorus hits. When I break down the routine, Rey starts to look and sound polished and I considered starting the routine of the Cell Block Tango when the bell rings, bringing lunch and our practice to a close.

“Thanks, Jules! You’ve saved my ass!” She hugs me happily and walks off.

I smiled and head back to my room ordering some lunch cause I am starving, I order a simple grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, and as soon as I arrive I feel so much better and start with writing out my notes.

---

As the day slowly begins to wind down, slowly begins to wind down, I can see the sun begin to set. I check the old group chat for anything from my last message about Krissy and is met with silence, I sigh as I get myself in some dance clothes in preparation for practicing with Hana.

I check my phone again, still nothing, and as I let out a sigh until I heard a knock on the door. As I opened the door to see the smiling face of Hana who immediately hugs me.

I smile faintly,

“Okay, you ready to get to work?”

She nodded, her eyes light up instantly

“Heck yeah!”

I chuckled remembering my own enthusiasm from last year.

“I’ll go first.I’ll see how you do.”

I hit the play button and Zella Day’s Hypnotic comes on and as I count myself in, I let the music flow through me.

I smile a bit making myself look as if I am a siren entrancing a sailor in Ancient Greece. When the song ends Hana is staring, her hands visibly shaking.

“You’ve got this” I remind her gently.

She nods weakly and as I started the music she tries to replicate my moves, just like Reyna she is strong in some spots. I smile and start to dance with her until she’s more comfortable.

It’s not long before she’s getting it, I smile giving her a high five as she starts to nail the moves.

“Thank you so much, Jules!!”

I smile,

“Don’t mention it. I was gonna grab some pizza. You wanna join me?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Come on now! I’m paying.”

---

As Hana and I finish our pizza its almost 7:40, we’re laughing and joking but we pass by my house. All the lights are off, except for my bedroom light and the one in the attic. I also notice that my parents aren’t home, and I stare at the window.

Hana looks up with me,

“Jules? You okay?” Han asks gently.

I blink snapping out of it,

“Yeah... You go back to Warren I’ll catch up. ”

She rose an eyebrow,

“You sure?”

I actually wasn’t too sure in all honesty, but instead of sending her away, I politely and calmly whispered.

“Keep watch.”

She nodded, but gasped silently,

“What if we get in trouble?”

I chuckled,

“This is my house, we’ll be okay..”

I went around back to the emergency exit and smiled looking at the slightly faded pink blossoms. I hated to uproot them but I found the spare key taking it to the front door. I ran back down and opened the door.

Hana looked around, her face etched with fear.

“Jules!” She whimpered.

“It’ll just take a minute!” I insisted.

As I go up the stairs to my room, I cringe at some old pictures, remembering how many hours it took to get right. I push the door open to my bedroom, everything appears to be normal except a box made out of faded old wood is in the center of my bed.

I grabbed the box and closed the door and put the key back under the pot, and lead Hana back to Warren.

“That’s enough excitement for one day,” I say examining the box.

I run my fingers over it, and offer Hana a chance to look at it.

Hana picks it up, her hands fumbling over it, and the box awkwardly fell out of her hands. The box falling to the ground, a wedge from the bottom, peeking out. As she hands it back to me I slowly pry it back its contents spilling out. Letters, Photographs; all things that I’ve never seen except the one of my grandmother and my mom hiding behind her leg. Hana and I start to go through the items and in the slew of things there was a white knight piece. Hana is holding an envelope with a letter and I’m looking at a picture.

It looks like a simple polaroid, that says: Me, Andrew, Patrick, Oliver and Sophia. Sophia’s hair is a dark black, and flowing. She is smiling a bunny ears. The other three boys are smiling in their uniforms.

“Hey Jules.. You should read this.”

I nodded and reading out loud, holding the envelope that was awkwardly torn.

January 11th

Dear Sophia,

I am writing this letter as a warning. In three days time He will find you. He has been in my dreams quite frequently and I fear he knows about the iteration. You have to hide it, you and Jeremy have too close with Daisy. And I know after our disbandment we promised we would never talk again but I pray to Elysia he doesn’t find Daisy. The vision that caused our severance is much clearer to me. The Demon King will return this iteration.

Run Sophia Run

Yours

The name is cut off but all I can wonder is who is Sophia?

First

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@red-wood-raven

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#who is me?#yes #that oliver #gwens father #what does sophia have to with this?#who wrote the letter #tw: gambling #tw: alcohol #prismverse #artes original work #happy birthday to me!!#ch. 4 goes up march 5th #meant to add this when i posted #oopsies #rm lqnlt xdc cqn kuxp ouxfna-lqrum-mjrbh ;) fqx twxfb fqjc hxduu orwm #ftq smyq ue mnagf fa nqsuz

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sayo-writes-fanfiction · 5 years

Text

On the One Hand- Death: 4- Highs and Lows, Mostly Lows

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Plunking her bag down in the doorway of Bobby's study, Sonya did a quick mental check of everything she packed and nodded to herself in satisfaction before moving to join Garth at the desk where Bobby stood waiting.

"Got everything?"

Holding back a sigh, Sonya nodded absently at the older hunter's question.

"Machete?"

"Yep."

"Gun?"

Patting the small of her back where the pistol he had gotten her rested comfortably, she nodded again. "Check."

"Salt?"

"Obviously."

"Clothes?"

"Figured I'd make new ones on the way there."

Narrowing his eyes at her sarcastic quip, Bobby continued. "Lighter?"

"Gonna rub some sticks together."

"ID?"

Reaching back, she patted her back pocket where her wallet rested." Right here."

"Other ID?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Sonya reached up and pulled a freshly made square of plastic out of the pocket of her open button down. "Got it."

"Killing a vampire means..."

"Cutting off it's head."

A beat, then- "You-"

"Salt and burn the remains. If you're feeling froggy, do a little tribal dance around the fire."

Hearing Garth try to cover a laugh up with an unconvincing cough, Sonya pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

"Don't swallow any-"

"Vampire blood, I know, Bobby." she said with some exasperation. Fixing him with an earnest stare, she held her hands out slightly. "I've been reading up on all things monster for the better half of a year."

Huffing lightly under his breath, Bobby sat down in his chair, relenting a bit. "then git goin'. Don't need you in my hair anymore."

Sonya snorted at that, eyebrows raising slightly. "What hair?"

"Get out."

With a huff of laughter, Sonya sent Bobby a wry smile and spun around on her heel, heading back towards where her bag laid. "Call you when we get there." She tossed over her shoulder, waiting long enough to hear Bobby's usual grunt of acknowledgement before stepping outside and closing the door behind her.

With a small sigh, she shook off the feeling of forgetting something and moved to join Garth beside his truck where he stood waiting. Giving her an easy grin, he slapped the top with his hand and opened the door. "Ready to go?"

"Apparently." With a slight grin of her own, Sonya tossed her bag in behind the passenger seat and slid inside. Looking through the windshield at the house, she stared at it as Garth started the monster of a vehicle and turned around to drive away.

Turning her attention to the side mirror, she watched the house disappear in a cloud of dust before vanishing entirely from her field of view when the truck turned onto the main road.

"And I'll fly up into the sky!"

Sonya beat out a rhythm on the dash in front of her, mimicking the drums blaring from the stereo.

"Then i'll fall.. To the burning Earth below!" She bellowed out with Garth, her voice cracking a bit with the volume. Tipping her head back, she slapped her hands harder against the dash.

"Into the skyyyy!" Garth's off-key voice made her grin wildly and join in for the finish.

"And down... To... Earth!" They shouted together, neither one caring if they were in tune or not. With a resounding thud of her hands on the dash, the song finished.

Four hours of driving west had given the two of them an opportunity to learn something new about each other. Like the fact they both liked obscure bands barely anyone knew. It was a preference, Garth claimed, one you either picked up and loved, or hated it outright, there was no in-between. Leaning her arm out the open window, she let out a whoop of laughter as Garth tipped his head back and attempted to what she thought was a yodel.

Spotting a road sign up ahead, she reached over and turned the beginning base to another song down and pointed it out. "Looks like we're a few minutes out."

Nodding his head in agreement, Garth tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel in thought as they drove by the sign declaring they were entering Douglas Wyoming. "What did the reports say again?"

Leaning over the back of her seat, Sonya dug out the papers she tucked into her bag and shook them out. Scanning a couple of statements printed neatly on the first page, she cleared her throat and began reading out loud. "The first victim, Mary Stephen, 28, was found near North Platte river, throat torn open." Turning the page over, she grimaced slightly at the photo of a young woman with long brown hair laying near the edge of the water, limbs splayed out as if she had just been tossed aside.

"The second victim, Joshua Northon, 16, was found three days later in the same place. Marks on his wrists and ankles indicating he had been restrained before death." Flipping it over, she eyed the picture of a classic football star, complete with a Letterman jacket. Squinting slightly, she studied the close-up picture of the boy's neck, eyeing the obvious marks left behind by a feeding vampire. "Why was he restrained but the woman wasn't?" Garth's voice cut through her thoughts, making Sonya pursed her lips slightly and looked over at him in thought.

"She was probably attacked outright and he was kept as a sort of... Doggie Bag." She curled her lip slightly at the thought and shook her head, letting the papers fall onto her lap. "Either way, it has Vampire stink all over it."

Nodding his head enthusiastically, he turned onto the main road, pausing at a stoplight before turning right onto a less busy road. "Right on, lets find us a place to stay and something to eat then, amigo."

Grinning slightly at his exuberance for hunting all things monster, Sonya agreed with a low hum. "Two rooms though, we may be friends, Garth, but I don't ever want to find your underwear hanging over the side of the bathtub again."

"That was one time!"

"One time too many, my friend."

Stopping in the open doorway of her motel room, Sonya grimaced at the less-than-idea decor and kicked the door shut behind her. After paying for their neighboring rooms, the both of them agreed to a couple of hours to settle in and clean up from the ride over before going out to find something to eat. Tossing her bag onto the bed, she turned in a small circle to eye the area critically.

A single twin bed sitting in the middle with the headboard settled against cracked and peeling green wallpaper. It wasn't even a nice color of green, something closer to pea soup if she had to put a name to it. Turning around, she eyed the bathroom door with some trepidation before moving to push it open with a single finger, bracing herself for whatever lay beyond it.

Squinting open one eye, she felt a small rush of relief when she spied a relatively clean room, white tile, standing shower tucked into a corner and a toilet that looked like it had been bleached within an inch of it's life on the other side of the open door.

Nodding her head a bit, she breathed out a small sigh of relief and turned to face the room once again. At least the bathroom looked clean, she didn't think she'd catch anything from the toilet if she used it anyway.

With her inspection done, Sonya moved back towards the bed and opened her bag to dig around a moment to find the canister of salt. Straightening back up, she started pouring a thick line across the windowsill and across the threshold of the door. Thankfully it opened outward, all she had to worry about was not breaking the line when she entered or exited. Precautions finished, she moved back towards her bed and pulled out an old, unused journal she found a few months prior while digging around in Bobby's attic out of pure boredom.

Untying the string, she flipped it open and scanned over the first few pages she had filled with idle ramblings about the show she remembered watching before showing up there. Various things underlined from time to time, names mostly, of people or cities. Vague recollections of the story line, something about the apocalypse and then a good character turned bad? It was all very fuzzy and hard to focus on, much like a piece of dust stuck to your eye, it's there, you see it in your peripheral, but if you try to look at it the damn thing moves away.

One set of names stuck out the most, so much so she had written them at the top of the first page in bold and underlined them several times. Sam and Dean, no recollection of what they looked like, or even gender, but those names were prominent. With a shrug, she flipped to a new page and clicked the pen in her hand, beginning to write about her first official hunt, even if it was with another hunter.

Pausing in her writing, she looked up at the window, watching the curtains stir slightly in the breeze from the overhead fan. Not that she was a hunter herself, not really. Sure, she knew what to do, how to kill monsters and even track them down. But until now, she didn't do much about it other than help Bobby when other Hunters called or stopped by for help.

After this though, she'd have the right to consider herself one, even if no one else agreed. It was just the first of what she hoped to be many hunts, first of many cases. A small smile hovered around her lips at the thought. Sure it was dangerous, but something deep inside crowed in excitement at the thought of finally doing something real to help people other than sitting off to the side with her head buried in a book.

Looking back down at the page, she doodled in the top corner idly, tracing the outline of an eight while she continued to think to herself about the current case they were on.

From the looks of things, it couldn't be very many vampires according to Garth. Maybe three or four at the most. She wrinkled her nose slightly at the idea of more than just one or two, her fingers twitching slightly in a sharp downward stroke of the pen, putting a line through the eight she drew from top to bottom.

But she really couldn't complain, Sonya shrugged, watching without really seeing as she drew a line off to the side, connected at the end to the first line through the eight so it tipped up just a bit. It was a case that Bobby himself handed to her willingly, if that didn't say he thought she was ready for this, than nothing would.

With a small huff, she stuck her tongue out slightly between her lips, watching as she completed the doodle with an arched line going up then another one straight down, looking a lot like a backwards number four.

A knock on the door drew her out of whatever daze she was in. Blinking a bit, she shook her head and looked through the window to see Garth standing there, hands in his pockets as he waited for her to answer.

Not bothering to look at the journal anymore, or even finish her entry, she slapped it shut and tied the pieces of leather in a quick knot before reaching over to open the door and push it open. "Mind the salt."

Looking down, Garth carefully stepped over the line she made and shut the door behind him with a curious hum. "Bobby taught you well."

"Yeah, well, considering the kind of thing that tends to come around when a hunter stops by the house, you generally learn to keep a salt line at the door just in case." Shrugging slightly, she stuffed the journal into her bag and stood up, stretching her arms over her head with a low groan. "Ready to get something to eat?"

"Absolutely, talked to one of the housekeeping girls working the rooms and she mentioned a little restaurant that made the best homemade fries this side of the state." He rubbed his hands together eagerly with a lick to his lips. "Said we gotta try some while we're in town."

"Absolutely." Grinning at him, Sonya waved to the door so he'd open it and step out, following behind him as she shut and locked it behind her. "Lead the way, comrade."

"Ah, German!"

"Russian, Garth."

"Right."

After one of the best meals she had in about a year, Sonya and Garth moved farther into town, tracking down the first lead they wanted to follow. Mary's sister, Lily, lived just down the block from the older woman, and was the last one to see her before she showed up dead the next morning.

Parking the truck alongside the curb, Garth looked over at her curiously as she pulled out her fake ID with a curious expression. Bobby had given it to her before she went upstairs to pack her things, not even an explanation, not that she needed one, it wasn't the first fake he had given to her.

But now she had the chance, she studied the plastic idly, taking in the picture he put on it then moving to the credentials listed below.

"Apparently I'm a private detective." She finally announced, turning to show Garth as he shuffled through the center console a moment before pulling out his own piece of plastic. "And I'm..." He squinted at it a moment and turned it to face her with a grin. "State police. You helping us with the case then?"

"Probably, but I'm having strong flashbacks of a show called Psych." Sonya muttered, rolling the sleeves of her button up down and buttoning it up about halfway to make herself seem more presentable. "Psych?"

"Never mind, some TV show I used to watch, not important." Waving a hand at him, she opened the door and stepped out, her gaze drifting up to the small apartment building in front of them.

Maybe four apartments at the most, all of them with their own balcony that faced towards the street. Turning to look at Garth, she eyed his hastily made tie and mussed hair with a sigh. "Wait, hold still." Moving in front of him, she rolled her eyes and undid the knot he made, carefully fixing and adjusting the tie so it sat a little more professionally before reaching up and fixing his hair so it didn't look like he just got into a fight with a hair dryer.

"There, much better." With a grin, she stepped back and admired her work, one hand reaching out to slap his away when it came up to loosen the tie. "Don't ruin my work."

"I hate ties." He wined, making her snicker lightly and link her arm with his while they walked towards the apartments. "Then you should have thought about it before picking your ID."

"I'll be the private detective next time." He grumbled in a very un-Garth way as she reached out and pressed the buzzer for Lily's apartment with an amused grin. "Sure thing."

Looking at him from the corner of her eye, Sonya pursed her lips thoughtfully and looked forward again. "You know, you should keep your hair that way, looks good on you."

Garth glanced over at her and reached up to touch his hair lightly with a thoughtful expression. "Ya think?"

"Definitely."

A crackle from the speaker in front of them cut their conversation short as a young woman's voice came through. "Yes?"

Clearing his throat, Garth moved forward so she could hear him better on her end. "Hello, I'm with the state police here investigating your sister's death?"

The crackle and hiss coming from the speaker sounded for a moment before she spoke again. "Sissy's death was ruled an animal attack, why are the police looking into it?"

This time, Sonya stepped forward, putting a hand on Garth's shoulder to move him to the side. "There was new information that came up recently that brought some curious eyes towards it." She explained smoothly, silently thanking her lucky stars for her affinity for reading so many mystery books in her high school years.

A small pause then a buzzer sounded, indicating the door being unlocked. Sharing a look with Garth, they both shrugged and pulled it open to step inside, one of the doors at the top of the stairs opened, a brown head of hair sticking out to look down at them. Offering the young woman a smile, she walked up the stairs with Garth following behind. "You must be Lily."

"Yes..." The young woman hedged, obviously still nervous as she eyed the two of them when they came to a stop in front of her door. "Do you have ID?"

Reaching into her shirt pocket, Sonya pulled out her ID and handed it over to Lily, watching with some amusement as she stared at it closely then slowly handed it back to her so she could take Garth's next. Bobby had pointed out early on when she brought up the topic of fake IDs used in cases like this that generally the public knows little to nothing about what an official ID looks like other than police badges and the like. It was the ones that worked in law you had to watch out for.

Taking the card back, she tucked it away and stuffed her hands into her pockets, waiting for the woman to finish her inspection and hand Garth's ID back. "Why is a private detective working with the police anyway?"

"I generally lend a hand when the police run out of leads. A fresh pair of eyes." She shrugged lightly and offered Lily a small smile, one that spoke of stories she could tell if they had the time to. Visibly relaxing, Lily smiled back and moved away from the doorway, waving the both of them in with one of her hands. "Come in then."

Nodding at her in thanks, she and Garth stepped into the entry way, pausing at the edge of the linoleum square in front of the door to keep the carpet from getting damp should any shoes be wet when they come in. Stepping past them, Lily moved to the left where a small living room set up was, a love seat and a reclining chair along with a small coffee table set in the middle.

Sitting down on the edge of the recliner, Lily waved at the love seat for them to sit on. "Thank you Ma'am." Garth smiled winningly at her and settled down in the seat along with Sonya, both of them grunting a bit in surprise at how far the cushions sank down.

"Oh! Sorry, I should have mentioned the springs were broken..." Lily jumped up, ready to help them to their feet only to stop when Sonya laughed and waved her off. "No, it's fine, fine. Not the first broken couch I've sat in." Hesitating a bit, Lily slowly sat back down, watching the two of them with a small, worried frown tugging at her lips.

Garth grinned and slung his arms along the back of the couch, long limbs stretching from end to end as he relaxed back fully against the seat. Rolling her eyes at his unprofessional appearance, Sonya sent Lily an apologetic look. "Sorry, he's new to the force. Still a little... Rough around the edges."

Giving them a tight smile, Lily nodded her head slightly and tapped her fingers on her knees as Sonya pulled the packet of paper from inside her button up- she refused to carry anything resembling a purse- and flipped through the pages before finding the report on Mary. "Now it says here you were with Mary the night before she was found?"

Lily nodded and fiddled with her hands, fingers spinning a ring on the first finger idly while she spoke. "Sissy was here for dinner, we usually have dinner together on Friday nights after she gets off work." She bit her lip, eyes welling up with tears as she looked down at the floor. "I should have made her stay, she kept saying she didn't drink that much, but she was stumbling down the stairs."

Reaching out, Sonya laid her hand on top of Lily's getting her attention and stopping her from fiddling with her ring anymore. Idly she noticed they were cold and wet, probably was washing them before they buzzed the door. Shaking off the random thought, she focused on the woman's face, a gentle smile on her own. "Lily, it isn't your fault, you have to know that. No woman, no matter how old, don't do anything if they really don't want to."

Lily offered her a weak smile and nodded her head. "You're right, of course." A small sniffle prompted Garth to lean forward and grab the small box of tissues sitting on the table, offering them to her with a little smile of his own.

Taking one with a grateful look at him, Lily wiped her eyes and nose before taking a slow breath. "Then, she called me from her car, said something about almost being home before the call cut off. I think her phone died, she never really did keep it charged properly."

Sonya shared a look with Garth, they didn't have a lot of things to go by, the bare minimum of evidence that Bobby was able to get from the basic sources. If they wanted to get their hands on anything from the scene or even the coroners report, they would have to test their skills against the police department.

"That's- That's all." Lily shrugged slightly, her hands twisting on her lap again as she looked up at them. "Next day I got a call from the police department saying they found my phone number in her Emergency contacts."

Nodding slightly, Sonya heaved herself out of the trap of a couch and offered the young woman her hand to shake as she stood up too. "Thank you, it's one thing to read what happened and another to hear the information for yourself." Looking over at Garth, Sonya bit back a laugh as he struggled to his feet to join them. "Look, I don't think there's anymore you can tell us right now, but-" She reached into the pocket of his jacket and snagged one of the cards with his cellphone number on it and held it out to her with a smile. "If you can think of anything else, anything at all, please call this number and let us know?"

Lily took the card from her and nodded, staring down at the number scribbled across it with some measure of confusion. "It's my personal number, much easier to get a hold of me with that." Garth offered when she looked up at them in question. Her eyebrows smoothed out when she understood and nodded. "Of course. Absolutely."

Shaking her hand, Garth turned to wave Sonya towards the door. "We'll be on our way then. Please, don't hesitate to call if anything comes up, even if you don't remember." Garth paused beside the open door, sending Lily a serious look. "There's no telling if whoever did this knows where you are."

"Uh... Yes, right." Lily's eyes widened a fraction as he shut the door and lead the way down the stairs. Once outside, Sonya slapped him on the shoulder making the taller hunter flinch and look down at her in surprise. "Ow!"

"What the hell was that? Are you trying to scare her? She's already upset over her sister dying but now you got her paranoid someone's gonna come looking for her!"

"I just wanted her to be careful!" Garth complained, dodging away from Sonya when she went to slap his arm again, quickly moving around to the other side of his truck out of her reach. "And you know I'm right anyhow!"

"It doesn't mean you have to scare her!" Sonya snorted, opening the door with a jerk and slipping into the seat with a scowl as he clambered in as well, starting the engine while tossing her cautious looks the entire time, waiting for her to try and hit him again. "Alright, alright, i'm sorry." He groaned when she didn't say anything when he pulled away from the curb and back onto the road. "I shouldn't have said it."

Looking over at him, Sonya pursed her lips and slumped slightly in the seat. "You're right though, if the vamps find out about her, she could end up their next meal."

Tightening his grip on the wheel with one hand, Garth reached up and loosened the tie so it hung around his neck. "I know, that's why we gotta find them before they do." Shooting her a small grin, he nodded towards the papers still in her hands. "Anything else in there?"

"Not really." Sonya hummed, flipping through the papers, scanning them a moment then tossing them into the back seat. "You'll have to go to the police station to get your hands on the official reports."

"You don't wanna come with me?" He glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow, surprised she wasn't already suggesting they head over there to begin with. Sonya shook her head and sent him a wry smile, one hand reaching up to pat her pocket where the ID sat. "I don't really wanna chance this right now, first case and all, it wouldn't do to get arrested right away."

"Fair point, wanna go back to the motel?"

Looking out her window, Sonya spied a small shop among the others lining the street and smiled lightly. "No actually, let me out here would you? I wanna look around a bit."

"Right-o." turning the wheel, he pulled up along the curb and stopped, watching as she hopped out onto the side walk. "Shouldn't take long, wanna meet here or at the diner?" He nodded down towards the corner where the restaurant sat. Glancing over towards it, Sonya nodded. "Yea, meet you there." Patting the side of the truck, she backed up a step and watched him pull out and drive away.

Turning, she tucked her hands into her pockets and wandered down the sidewalk to stop in front of the small store she spotted earlier, a wistful smile tugging at her lips as she studied the crystals and trinkets hanging in the window. It had been so long since she had seen a wiccan shop, even longer since she visited one.

In her old life, as she had started calling it, she regularly visited one a few towns away, the woman running it a bonified wiccan that helped way more than a string of psychiatrists ever could. Getting help with keeping the energy in her home made living there far calmer. And now, considering what she had to live with, it wouldn't hurt to get a few extra precautionary items to keep the house safe with.

An hour later found Sonya sitting in the back with a young woman, maybe a couple years younger than her, drinking a cup of green tea and laughing at some stories the shop owner shared.

"She really said, 'you're the reason my husband cheated!'?" Sonya managed to wheeze out between bouts of laughter. The owner, Sam, which she thought was ironic considering her fascination with that name along with Dean, nodded her head with a wry smile. "Not in so many words but it's basically what she was saying."

"Oh my." Sonya snickered and took a sip of tea, letting it's warmth seep into her body with a satisfied hum. Looking over at Sam, she offered her a wry smile and set the cup down. "You know, when I came in here, I wasn't sure if you were the real deal or not."

Sam shook her head and smiled herself, leaning back in her seat as she studied Sonya with a small tip of her head. "It was apparent the moment you walked in why you were here you know."

Sonya grimaced slightly and lifted a shoulder. "Is it that obvious?"

"Hon, your soul is shining brighter than a disco ball." Sam raised an eyebrow and tipped her head towards her chest, like she was staring at her soul. "It's like a beacon almost. I'm surprised none of the creepy crawlies spotted you yet."

"Well, this is my first time out and about... Around here anyway." Sonya hedged, not sure how much she should say to this woman. Sam closed her eyes in thought and nodded suddenly, standing up, she waved at Sonya to follow her. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Getting up, Sonya frowned and followed Sam farther back into the shop, ducking past a curtain with several protective spells woven into it. Stepping into the smaller room, she watched Sam run her fingers along the spines of several books in a large shelf before stopping on the thinnest one and pulled it out. Turning to face Sonya, she held it out with a small smile. "Take this, read it then call me." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a card and placed it on top of the book Sonya now held, her name and number printed clearly on the white card.

"It will help."

Looking up at her, Sonya wasn't sure if she should hug her or break down crying because for the first time in a year, she felt some semblance of normalcy again. Even if it was as simple as talking to someone who under stood.

"I don't know-"

"Don't worry about it." Sam shook her head and waved a hand towards the door. "Go on now, I think that friend of yours is probably waiting. Didn't you say you were meeting him at the restaurant?"

"Oh! Yeah, shoot, I forgot all about him." Eyes wide, Sonya spun around and quickly made her way back towards the front door. "I'll call you, thank you again!" Stepping outside in the bright sun, she shielded her eyes against the sudden glare and looked around, feeling the tense muscles in her back loosen slightly as relief once again washed over her.

Looking down at the book in her hands, she turned it over curiously looking for a title or something but it was blank. Besides the design stamped in silver along the spine, it wasn't marked by anything.

Flipping open the cover, she paged through it until she came to one with writing on it. In an elegant script, obviously handwritten, were the words 'Touched by God'.

Furrowing her brow, Sonya frowned at the words and looked over her shoulder at the shop in confusion. This wasn't exactly what she had in mind, she wasn't exactly religious and with Sam being Wiccan, she didn't think she was christian or anything else either.

Looking back down at it, she let out a small sigh and shut the book, tucking it into one of the large cargo pockets of her pants before heading down the sidewalk towards the diner. She was the real deal though, so if she thought it could help her in the long run, then maybe there was something in there after all.

Tags: @olidiavalree

#supernatural #fanfiction #oc insert #trans female to male oc #garth fitzgerald iv #bobby singer #wicca #wiccan #vampires #mentions of corpses #Psych reference #because who doesn't love psych #I know I do #Also #bright soul has a meaning later #remember it

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nancythebisexualslutwheeler · 6 years

Note

For the send me a ship ask meme: kalancy 💖

who hogs the duvet - Kali, though she claims she doesn’t. However Nancy usually hides her own blanket in the crack between the bed and wall.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going - Nancy mostly texts often and makes Kali call her as she walks to her car after work because she works later and Nancy is always concerned.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts- Kali, she pays attention to every small thing Nancy says so she ends up getting many random gifts that she never thought she’d needs but loves because she’d randomly mentioned something once.

who gets up first in the morning- Kali, Nancy never used to be able to sleep in so the girl will stay all day. Kali usually wakes her up around ten in the morning, with kisses and coffee.

who suggests new things in bed - Nancy is one kinky motherfucker so she’s always suggesting something new, mostly because she’s been exploring her body since she got her own place and she mostly knows what she wants. Plus she just wants to do anything with Kali like anything she’s given a second thought to - like public sex or handcuffs.

who cries at movies - Nancy. Kali is a big bad girl who never cries ever ever. (Jk but yeah, Nancy cries at anything.)

who gives unprompted massages - Kali, she loves to have her hands on Nancy in any way possible and at any time. She’s very touchy feely and feels the need to be touching Nancy almost all the time. (I do like your headcanon where she can send visions by touch) but Nancy finds comfort in touch as well so she always starts massaging Nancy.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick - Nancy is used to taking care of Mike and Holly’s illnesses when they were sick. Giving them everything her mother never gave them, cuddles and cold baths and wash cloths on their foreheads, and homemade soup, and fresh clothes and blankets heated in the dryer for exactly 12 minutes. Aka she does the same for Kali.

who gets jealous easiest - Kali, only because she has a super hot amazing wonderful girlfriend and she’s scared someone is gonna take her. (Little does she know that Nancy worries about the same thing.)

who has the most embarrassing taste in music - Nancy. You may here one direction, big time rush and Camp Rock right after you hear Drake and Shania Twain.

who collects something unusual - Kali. Idk what she collects, but whatever it is she has a ton.

who takes the longest to get ready - NANCY is so high maintenance that it truthfully is embarrassing. She has so many makeup and hair products that it’s borderline a problem and she usually has to roll out of bed a good forty five minutes before Kali to stand naked at the vanity getting ready, and then eventually Kali rolls out of bed to get ready and still finishes before Nancy. Every single time.

who is the most tidy and organised- Nancy - Karen all but beat it into her, how to keep everything clean and organized, but Kali has never really had a lot of stuff that she had to keep clean anyway, so she’s a bit messy and unorganized.

who gets most excited about the holidays - Nancy, only because Kali has never had any holidays, so Nancy shows her all of her traditions and they make their own, like driving around listening to Christmas carols and looking at lights, while drinking hot cocoa and eating cookies they’d spent all day making. Or watching Hocus Pocus the best movie ever. Nancy throws Kali a surprise party like three days in a row until she’s finally like that’s enough. Nancy is so excited to show Kali things that she treats her like a child, and Kali just grins and goes along with it because Nancy is so damn adorable in a Santa hat that she can’t let it go, even though if she has to eat one more chocolate Santa she’s gonna puke.

who is the big spoon/little spoon - Kali is the big spoon, even though she’s only two inches taller than Nancy, Nancy likes to feel tiny tiny.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports- KALI. Oh god she does not understand things like - let kids win- so Holly cries when Kali whoops her ASS at Trouble and Nancy is like dear god I’m dating a monster. Or when she straight up tackles Mike during flag football and nearly dislocates his shoulder.

who starts the most arguments - Nancy- she can be the biggest bitch ever and knows just how to press Kali’s buttons and push her away. It’s been drilled into her mind from a young age that she is unlovable and she tells Kali all the time, which pisses her off more and more. Their arguments mostly stem from Nancy’s insecurities and internalized homophobia and she calls Kali on her shit, but in such a rude way that it ends with them screaming at each other until their both in tears.

who suggests that they buy a pet - Kali and by suggest I mean beg. So Nancy takes her around to different shelters until she finds a perfect black cat with big green eyes. And Kali lets Nancy name her.

what couple traditions they have- Saturday mornings are for sleeping in, coffee with too much creamer, bubble baths and naked cuddling and slow fucking until they have to get out of bed so they can at least grab the take out menus and pick out some food. The usually wrap themselves in blankets and argue over who has to get the door and they sit in bed naked and watch movies or netflix or whatever new shows they are on. And they eat and then they usually paint nails or braid each others hair and then eventually fall back asleep again. (This usually happens every saturday) OR when they’re running errands together, Nancy is always the driver and Kali controls the music and they buy iced coffees and drive around with the windows down and have too many pairs of sunglasses.

what tv shows they watch together - Oh lord. So many. Nancy is a huge reality TV fan so all of the real housewives shows, Criminal Minds, Bates Motel, also any of those like Real ID shows that go into like the human psyche because Kali really likes that stuff. Or anything with women supporting women like - big little lies.

what other couple they hang out with- Steve and JONATHAN. Joyce and Hopper.

how they spend time together as a couple- Doing anything. Kali loves to read and Nancy chills beside her and watches her or is on her phone. They love to cook or do their hair and makeup or watch movies and shows or cuddle or fuck or go on long car rides.

who made the first move- KALI. who knows if Nancy ever would have but Kali knows what she wants and goes after it and from the moment she saw her she knew she wanted Nancy Wheeler.

who brings flowers home- Kali. Big huge bouquets that make Nancy wanna cry they’re so pretty and then she tucks them into Nancys hair and Nancy dries them and places them into journals.

who is the best cook- Nancy. because again, Karen Wheeler. This girl will kill you with a hotdish or a pasta salad or a jello salad or a DESSERT. Like damn a bitch can cook. Also Kali forgot how to cook and will live off of takeout (and not gain a pound) which also makes Nancy wanna choke, as she was living off lowfat everything until she got her own house.

#asks #Kalancy #headcanons #mine

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ofsunshine-andrain · 7 years

Text

My Muse, My Love (Taehyung X Reader)

A/N: I’m finally back with a full story after almost nine months? I won’t say too much, I just hope you guys like it and feel free to drop me some comments.

Genre: Fluff/ Angst

Word Count: 8.5k

Summary: One mistake brought you to the past where you are forced to relive your past life with the uncertainty of how to get back. There, you learn that maybe staying isn’t such a bad choice after all.

Some people believe that when we die we become dust. Nothing more than dust that is stuck six feet underneath the ground. There are other people who believe that we are reincarnated when we die. Well which one should you believe?

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Byul asked you.

“I don’t think she can actually do it.” you whispered. “Its just for fun anyways.”

Without giving it anymore thought, the both of you sat on the stools that were in front of the weird old lady. She smelt of sage and dressed colorfully. Her eyes looked deeply into yours as if she knew why you were here.

Breaking the silence, the lady said “So how can I help you two girls today?”

“I want you to perform one of your sessions on me.” you answered.

Smiling, she showed you to a couch. “Lie down here.”

You made yourself comfortable on the couch. Although Byul was there with you, you still felt nervous. Your realistic side was trying to convince yourself that there was no way the old lady could pull such a thing off but another part of you was thinking what if she could.

“Dearie, what you’re about to experience here cannot be undone. So I’ll ask you another time, you sure you wanna do this?”

Giving it a thought for the last time, a part of you wanted to run but your curiosity took over which made you nod a yes.

“Now, close your eyes and drift off slowly by the sound of my voice.”

Shutting your eyes, you tried to focus on her voice. You laid there still, not really knowing what to do. After a while, everything went silent.

“I don’t think this is work-”

Blinking a few times, you wondered if you were dreaming. At that moment, you felt scared, because the old lady was telling the truth.

Now, you were in the past.

Past

Looking around, you were lost. You stood alone outside at an alleyway. Nothing here seemed familiar to you. Panic filled you once you realized that you did not know how to go back to the future. You started to curse yourself internally because you brought this on yourself. If only you had backed out at the last minute, you would not be standing there.

“___ what are you waiting for? We’ve gotta go now or we’ll be late.” a girl in her teens said to you.

“What?”

“Let’s go now!” She grabbed your arm and the both of you started running. You were not sure how to react since you were still stunned so you decided to follow her first.

After running for a solid five minute, the both of you arrived at a bus stop. At that moment, you realized that you were no longer in your t-shirt and jeans. Now, you were wearing what looks like a school uniform, the very same one that the girl was wearing. On her uniform, you could see her name tag. It read Ha Yi. Soon, a bus came and the both of you got on it.

“Thank God we didn’t miss the bus. If I’m late again, the head threatened to call my parents in.”

Not knowing how to react, you just smiled. “Are you okay ___?” Hayi asked. It was weird that even in your past life, your name was still the same.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” you lied.

“You can always tell me everything you know. We are best friends after all.” In the split second, you considered telling her everything but you were pretty sure she would think you had gone mad. Even you were doubting yourself. How was it possible to relive your past life?

The both of you got down at the next exit. Running as quickly as possible, you managed to get to school right before the school bell rang. Feeling scared and bewildered with this predicament you faced, you decided to hide in the school library.

First, you went through your things. Who were you in the past? In your bag, you found a wallet. Inside contained your ID, some money and a picture. You never expected to look the same as the person you were in your last life, but surprisingly you could see the similarity. It would take some getting use to when you saw your reflection. The ID revealed that you were in the second year of high school which means you had to relive high school all over again.

For a while, you sat there thinking. Mostly you were just holding back the tears because you felt so helpless in the situation. How were you going to go back? You did not want to be stuck here alone in an unknown environment. At that point, you pulled your knees closer to your chest and started sobbing.

A boy who was looking for a book, happened to stumble upon your crying figure. He wondered if whether he should approach you or just leave you alone.

A tickle was felt on your knee. You looked up and saw a boy offering his handkerchief to you. Embarrassed with your ugly crying face, you turned away to hide your face but gratefully accepted his handkerchief. The boy went back behind the shelves of books. After hearing the bell ring, you went to find the rest of your class. You did not have much of a choice but to live as your past self.

At first it was hard trying to adapt to your surrounding. Your family for example, were not the same people as the ones you knew. The hardest of them all was being yourself. Who were you in the past? Were you someone bright and cherry or cold and aloof? You felt scared and as if you had to tiptoe around people. What if they find out that you are not you anymore?

Luckily, not many people noticed the change in you. Only Hayi and your family members mentioned once or twice about how you carried a different aura. They did not push to ask more thankfully. People in the past had a habit of writing journals so after a little digging you found your past self’s diary. Through that, you learnt a lot more about your past self. It was weird how much similarity the both of you shared. In a way, that was an unbreakable bond you both had.

After a month of reliving your past life, you had come to accept the fact that you might never be able to return to the future. Almost every day you would wait at the alleyway where you first appeared in hopes that some unknown force will whisk you back to your own normal life. However, it only made you more disappointed each time.

“___ are you going to the festival tonight?” Hayi asked you.

“Yes?” You reply with uncertainty because no one had mention anything about the festival.

“You’ve gotta go! He is gonna be there.” Hayi said with a tinge of excitement in her voice.

When Hayi sensed your confusion, she immediately rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, just because you didn’t talk about him for the past month doesn’t mean you don’t like him. Before that you were all Jimin this, Jimin that.” she teased.

All you could do was smile because you had no idea what was going on. “So it’s settled okay? I’ll be at your place at five.” You nodded and got off at your stop on the bus.

Throughout the walk from the bus stop to your house, your mind was preoccupied with what Hayi had said. Who was this Jimin she was talking about? If you talked about him often, your past self would have mentioned him in your diary.

After your shower, you thought about what to wear to the festival. You went through the selection of clothes you had. All you could think of was how you would never be caught wearing old fashioned clothes like that. Reluctantly, you decided on a floral print dress that would have been considered a maxi dress in 2017.

For the finishing touch, you wore earrings which matched the dress you were wearing. As you were putting the earring on your left ear, it slipped from your fingers and rolled off under the bed. You crouched down on the floor to pick up the earring when a reflection of light caught your eye. Tucked underneath the bed frame was a shiny sliver cover notebook.

Picking up the earring and notebook, you sat down on your bed. Curiosity filled you as you contemplated what the contents of the notebook held. Slowly, you flipped open to the first page of the book. A smile immediately formed on your face as you went through three whole pages of hearts with the name Park Jimin on it. The next page was a detailed description of how handsome Jimin was and how he made you have butterflies in your stomach. Your past self was really a pure teenage girl.

On cue, Hayi appeared at your house at five and the both of you left for the festival after promising your parents countless of times that you would be home by nine. All you could think of was how early nine was and how the real you used to stay out till midnight.

According to Hayi, all the good looking guys were going to be at the festival and that it was her year to get a boyfriend. Upon reaching the venue of the festival, you could see how beautifully decorated it was. There were many small stalls selling all sorts of things. Hayi and you walked hand in hand around the place.

Halfway while the both of you were walking, a boy came and whisked Hayi away. If Hayi was a cartoon character, she would probably had hearts coming out from her eyes. To be honest, you were happy to finally be alone. Ever since you got stuck here, your life had always revolved around school and home. People in the past hardly had the chance to go out and do stuff they wanted.

Along the path you were walking, you found a bench by the lake and decided to stop there before continuing your walk around the festival. Seeing a school of fishes swimming together made you miss your own family and friends. What happened to you in the future? Were you in a coma unable to wake up?

“Click”

You looked around to find where the sound was coming from.

“Click”

A swish sound came from the bushes and you found yourself staring at a boy with a camera around his neck, taking photos of a duck. After a second glance, you recognized him as the boy who gave you his handkerchief in the library. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he suddenly jumped out from the bushes and started wriggling around as if there were insects all over his body.

“Never again.” the boy muttered under his breath.

“Are you okay?” you asked the boy.

“Yeah... i’m fine.

“What were you doing there anyways?”

“I was trying to take a picture of the duck but it looks like I might have broken my camera lens.”

While he was inspecting the damage done to his camera, you tapped his shoulder and returned his handkerchief that he had previously gave you.

“Thanks for lending me your handkerchief that day.”

The boy wore a confused expression on his face, staring at you.

From behind, Hayi surprised you by giving you a hug. She started to tell you about the guy she was with, before she realized Taehyung’s presence. Immediately, she apologized for her interruption. Taehyung assured her that it was fine before leaving.

“Woah, are you interested in our senior, Kim Taehyung?” Hayi said teasingly.

“He’s a senior?”

“Yes and he’s super hot.” Hayi said while fanning herself. You broke into laughter and asked her about the guy who asked her out.

“By the way, I heard from him that Jimin’s gonna ask you out soon.” she said as she ended her story about the guy she went out with.

“For your next assignment, I want you to pick a mentor which can help you with your work.” your art teacher announced.

As a university student who took fine arts as a minor, you were sure you could manage this high school assignment alone.However, you did not want to find faults or trouble with your teacher so you were thinking which art senior you should ask for help while making your way into the art studio.

A beautiful painting was on an easel stand. It was a replica of Van Gogh’s Starry Night, one you could recognize anywhere. The details of the painting was very well done and you had no doubt the owner of the painting was a talented artist. Could it belong to a senior? Maybe you could ask him or her to be your mentor?Taking a new canvas from the storage room, you started to work on your homework. The theme was nature.

You started sketching when you heard the door open. Focusing on your work, you ignored the fact that you were not alone anymore. The person walked into the studio and stopped directly behind you which annoyed you whenever people tried to take sneak peeks of your work that has yet to be completed.

“Is that the lake?” a male voice said.

“What?” You turned around to see who the voice belonged to.

“The lake where I was taking pictures of the duck.” Taehyung said.

“Yeah... how’s your camera?”

“Completely broken.” he sighed.

There was a short awkward silence before you continued your sketch. Taehyung was still standing behind you which made you wonder what he was doing in the art studio.

“What do you think of that painting?” He pointed to the Starry Night.

“Its a nice replica of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.” you replied.

After your reply, you noticed Taehyung’s eyes widen in what looks like shock or amazement. Your brain realized your blunder. Did people in the past not know Van Gogh?

Picking your words, you said “Did I say something wrong?”

“No... it’s just that not many people know him.”

“Ah... by the way, do you know who the painting belongs to?” you asked.

“Maybe, why?”

“I wanted to ask the owner for help on my assignment.”

“I guess I could help you arrange a meeting.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but bring some of your paintings to show the owner.” You gave him a confused look. “So the person can understand your style more.”

“Oh, okay sure.”

The meeting date was set the next day after school at the same art studio. You gave the painting another good look before leaving for home. The owner of the painting was definitely more skilled than you were. If the owner was willing to be your mentor, you were sure you could learn some things from him or her.

That night, you contemplated on which painting you should bring. Your past self had a few good pieces but a skilled artist could probably tell the difference in style between yours and hers. In the end, you decided to bring all of your paintings. In the past two months you had done a few paintings and hopefully that was enough to impress the person to be your mentor.

The following day after school, you hurried to the art studio, not wanting to be late for the meeting. While waiting for the person to turn up, you worked on your nature painting. When the door of the art studio finally opened, you stood up to greet the owner of the painting but the only person standing by the door was Taehyung.

“I thought you were the owner of the painting.” you sat back down and continued your work.

“I am.”

“What?”

“The owner of the painting is here. The painting belongs to me.” he said.

A bell went off in your head as you processed his words. A soft ‘oh’ came out from your mouth.

“So, did you bring your paintings?”

Nodding, you took out the few paintings you had brought from home. You felt somewhat cheated, because he could have just told you yesterday that he was in fact the owner of the painting.

“Okay.” he said after looking at your paintings. “I’ll help you on your assignment.” he smiled.

Before you could thank him he came up with a condition. “But you can’t tell anyone how you managed to get my help.” he said.

You were not sure why he had such an odd condition but you agreed anyways.

“I’m Taehyung by the way.”

“ I’m ____, it’s nice to meet you.”

“So who are you gonna ask to be your mentor for art?” Hayi asked.

“Actually, I already got myself a mentor.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Hayi said with a tinge of hurt in her voice.

Ever since you came here, Hayi has been a really good friend which made you feel bad because you have been distancing yourself from her.

“I’m sorry, I only asked him yesterday after school so I didn’t get a chance to tell you.” you said while giving her a hug.

To your relief, she smiled and hugged you back. “Who is it anyways?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

Hayi stared at you as if you were mumbling nonsense. “Why?” you asked her.

“No one, I repeat no one has been able to ask him for help. He would just ignore them. How did you do it?”

“I don’t know, he just agreed.” you said while being wary with your words after remembering Taehyung’s condition.

“Maybe, he is interested in you.” she teased. “But I don’t know, he has always been a little weird.” she continued.

“Weird?”

“Maybe not weird but he’s kind of a loner? Yes he’s good looking for sure, but he just kind of cold.” she replied. “So I was just surprised he agreed to help you.”

The school bell rang, signalling the start of class. The both of you hurriedly made your way to class. In class, your desk was by the window which was your favorite seat because you could look outside. You were about to take your seat when you realized that there was a letter on your desk.

Hayi immediately spotted the letter and urged you to quickly open it. There was a note inside containing one sentence.

Meet me at the back of the field after school.

The handwriting was not familiar to either you or Hayi so the both of you could not even guess who wrote the note.

“Are you going to go?” Hayi whispered to you as the teacher walked into class.

You shrugged not knowing the answer to her question.

After school, you were bothered with whether to go or not go. At last, you decided to go and see who it was. Nearing the back of the school field, your heart started beating a little faster making you a little scared yet excited.

“Hi.” a male voice said upon greeting you.

You found yourself face to face with a cute boy. His eyes were round and twinkled as he smiled. You knew this boy although you had never met him. It was the same boy from your past self’s secret diary. It was Park Jimin.

“Hi.” you replied.

“I hope I didn’t scare you by leaving the note on your table.” he began.

“It just made me curious.”

There was an awkward silence before he said “Do you want to go out tomorrow?”

You were not sure what to reply so you went with ‘yes’ since your past self absolutely adored him.

The first date with Jimin went well. He was very nice and gentlemanly. The both of you had a great time getting to know each other. By the end of the date, Jimin asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend. Sensing your hesitation, he agreed to give you space and time before you decided. You were in a dilemma because you knew your past self liked Jimin a lot but for you so far he was just a good friend.

“Class, that is your assignment for the summer holidays. Enjoy yourselves and remember to complete your homework too.”

Everyone made their way quickly out of the class as soon as the bell rang. You felt bad for being a wet blanket when Hayi was filled with excitement for the summer holidays. She had already started listing out her plans for the summer which apparently you were obligated to participate too.

“Aren’t you going home?”

“I’m just gonna finish the last bit of my painting then I’ll leave.” you replied.

Hayi left first after making you promise that you join her summer rendezvouses. As you walked to the art room, almost every student had gone back already. Your once noisy school was oddly quiet which made you feel a little uneasy.

The door of the art room was left ajar, so you peeped in first to see who was occupying the room. Behind an easel stand, sat a boy who was immersed in his painting. Looking at Taehyung like that, you could understand why people found him attractive. He had an aura of a mysterious artist, the one that people longed to understand more about. You knocked on the door first before entering.

“You’re still here?” he asked.

“I wanted to finish my painting.”

The both of you worked on your respective paintings. After a final stroke of your brush, you were finally done with your painting.

“Can we meet next week to discuss about my assignment?” you asked before you left.

“Sure, I’m free on Tuesday.”

As usual, Hayi was true to her words, together the both of you went to the beach with her family. The sun was high in the sky, without a glimpse of clouds. The sound of the waves made you feel calm and you slowly started to unwind. Ever since you appeared in the past because of one stupid mistake, you have been worried about everything. The short getaway was what you needed from your reality; the one where you were unable to go home.

Hayi wished you luck when she heard about your meeting with Taehyung. You did not actually think you needed luck, because honestly how bad could it be? Instead of labeling him as cold and unapproachable, you decided to keep an open mind.

There were two ways to the cafe that you were meeting Taehyung at. Normally you would take the shorter one but instead you took the other one which would pass through the alleyway. Maybe, just maybe, it could bring you back. Taking a deep breath, you turned into the alleyway, full with hope.

At first you could not believe your eyes. Standing in front of you was the cold Kim Taehyung, and he was smiling with a baby in his arms. You knew that you should probably should leave before he spots you but that image of him was too precious and rare. Eventually, both your eyes did meet. In that situation, you had two choices, one was to leave and then be awkward later when you meet him or you could go and say hi.

You picked the latter.

When you walked towards Taehyung, you saw him return the baby to her mother who ran a book store there. He was still smiling when you stood next to him which who took as a good sign. Somehow you felt as if you had uncovered one of his secret.

“Hello.” you said to Taehyung. “And hello to you.” you cooed to the cute baby, sitting on her mother’s lap.

“Are you two suppose to be on a date?” the lady who ran the book store said. “Taehyung is such a sweetie for helping me to take a photo with Hana here.”

Instead of correcting the lady’s words, both Taehyung and your focus was on Hana, who was happily gurgling with saliva all over her mouth. Sneaking a peek at Taehyung, you saw a whole different person. In fact, his smile was one of his best attributes. You wonder why he did not smile more often. Unlike some people who do not like to show their teeth when smiling, he had a wide smile which made his eyes look like two small crescents.

“Look here.” Taehyung held up his camera to take the picture.

Hana was looking at other things and refused to look at the camera despite her mother’s attempt to catch her attention.

“Hana, look here, Hana.” you called out in a sing song voice together with some claps, in hopes to attract her.

If you were looking at Taehyung, you would have seen him smile a little wider at your actions.

When Hana finally looked in front, Taehyung quickly took their picture. After the picture, Hana started wailing. Her mother tried hard to appease her by rocking her. Surprisingly, Taehyung stretched out his arms to carry her and magically she stopped crying. You smiled at how genuinely happy he looked; a look that did not come by often.

“The both of you look good together.” the lady who ran the book store said.

Taehyung carried Hana until she fell asleep on his shoulder. Slowly and carefully, he passed Hana to her mother. After saying a soft goodbye, the both of you left.

You chose not to say anything before Taehyung did. In a way, you were giving him a chance to handle what happened. It was obvious that you had trespassed in his comfort zone. He had kept quiet until the both of you were seated in the cafe.

“So what is your assignment about?”

“Human Nature.”

After ordering a cup of coffee, the both of you discussed how you could approach the topic together with the techniques you should use. Taehyung shared a few good ideas which showed you a different perspective. An hour later, you were finally done with the discussion.

Leaving the cafe, the both walked home in silence. You were waiting for him to take a different route home but he never did.

“I see you fixed your camera.” You tried to break the silence.

“Yeah, and about just now.” he started.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re really good with children though.”

“Well they’re really cute and easy to handle.”

“In what way?” you asked.

“They either want to sleep, eat or poop. Unlike adults, they’re way more simple.”

You nodded your head in agreement to his statement. With curiosity, you wondered who had hurt him so deeply for him to become who he was.

“No.”

Hayi sat on the floor of your bedroom while begging you to go to a party. She went on about how awesome it would be and tried to convince you by bringing up Jimin’s name.

“I kinda already told Jimin you were going.”

“What?!”

“Please, please, please say you’ll go.”

You groaned in frustration.” Fine, but only because I don’t want you to seem like a liar.”

The plan was to lie to your parents about your sleepover at Hayi’s place, which you did not think would work. Miraculously, it did. Hayi’s parents were out of town and they thought Hayi was staying over at your house. So the both of you would be able to go to the party and after, you would crash at Hayi’s place.

The wild party you had in mind, was actually mild. Compared to all the parties you had been too, this was nothing. There was some alcohol and music to get the party going. It was basically a gathering where people got to know each other better. Everyone had their own spot with their clique, no one daring to make the first move.

“Guess who came.” Hayi said.

“Who?”

“Kim Taehyung. And all the girls are already throwing themselves on him.”

After the first hour had passed, the host finally decided to spice things up with a few games. He started with the classic ‘Truth or Dare’ which was awfully popular in the olden days. The game was kind of boring when you did not really care about the answers.

When the bottle landed on Jimin, the person who spun the bottle asked Jimin if he had someone he liked in the room. Answering with a yes, you saw Jimin looking at you. You avoided his eye contact because you did not feel the same way as he did.

On both Taehyung’s right and left were girls clinging onto him, like a koala bear on a tree. From the girls’ eyes, you could see how much they idolized him. The fact that he ignored them, made them more than determine to get his attention. When you made eye contact with Taehyung, he smiled, to your surprise. The girls around him were ready to murder you with their bare hands when they saw him smile at you.

After a few spins, the bottle finally landed on Taehyung. Instead of choosing truth like everyone did, he opted for dare.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in this room.”

Every girl in the room except you, held their breaths, waiting for him to make his choice. All the guys were betting that he would chicken out in the end. You turned to grab your bottle of beer and had a sip. When you turned back, Taehyung was in front of you. He cupped your cheeks and leaned in for a kiss.

His lips were soft and moist. Before you could find anymore adjectives to describe his lips with, he had pulled away. A punch was thrown towards Taehyung which made him fall onto the ground. It took you a few seconds to register what was happening. You almost could not believe your eyes when you saw Jimin on top of Taehyung, throwing punches at him.

The other boys pulled Jimin back and tried to separate them. By then, everyone had got up and gravitated towards the walls. Except you, you were still sitting at the spot you sat earlier. Eventually, you got up and everyone was staring at you. Jimin stormed out of the house leaving Taehyung on the floor with a busted lip.

Slowly, you moved towards Taehyung to help him up. Everyone else got the cue to stop staring and continued to enjoy themselves, pretending as if nothing had happened. You felt bad for Taehyung because there was a high possibility that the reason why Jimin punched him was because of you. You placed one of his arm on your shoulder and helped him outside, away from everyone.

“I’m sorry he punched you.” you apologized as you got a chair for him to sit on.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” he replied.

“I don’t. I probably need to clear things up with Jimin.”

“It isn’t surprising though.”

“What?” you asked.

“You are pretty after all.”

His comment made you blush and your heart skipped a little. However seeing his flushed face, you knew it was the alcohol talking. It was funny for you to see a grown man get drunk on beer.

“Wait here, I’ll get the first aid box.”

Going inside the house to ask for the first aid kit, you were met with angry eyes from girls. It was as if laser was going to shoot out from their eyes. Hayi gave you a thumbs up which made you lighten up a little. Grabbing the first aid box, you went back outside to a sleepy Taehyung.

“Hey, sit properly, this will probably sting a little.” You tried to make him sit upright.

Placing some antiseptic on a cotton bud, you lightly dab on his busted lip. He flinched in pain which made him sober up a bit. Although he always displayed a cold and strong outlook, a little wound like that shook him up. You knew deep down he was probably a warm- hearted person.

“All done.” you said while keeping the antiseptic back into the first aid kit.

“___.” Taehyung groaned.

“Wha-

His lips were warm with a tinge of alcohol on it. This time he kissed you long enough for you to kiss him back. Perhaps it was because of the alcohol but you enjoyed it. Suddenly, Taehyung slumped forward onto you. You shook his shoulders to wake him up. He had killed the mood by passing out.

Hayi and you had to leave the party early to drag a knocked out Taehyung home. However, none of you knew where he lived so Hayi was kind enough to bring him back to her place. The both of you used every ounce of energy to drag him into the house. He was left on the couch to spend the night.

After a shower, the both of you were lying on the bed. You were preoccupied thinking about the events of the night.

“So...” Hayi started. “Let me guess what’s going on.”

“Jimin is in love with you. So when he saw Taehyung kiss you, he punched him.”

You groaned into a pillow. “I’m right aren’t I?” Hayi rubbed salt into your wound.

“I need to go and tell Jimin I can’t be his girlfriend.”

“What about Taehyung, do you like him?” she continued to badger you

You paused to think. Although the kiss did make your heart flutter, how do you know if it was true or not. It could have been just a drunken mistake Taehyung made.

“I don’t know.” you frustratedly said.

“I know this look. I can’t believe you moved on from Jimin to Taehyung so fast.” Hayi teased.

You groaned loudly another time and shut your eyes to sleep. The image of Taehyung kissing you appeared, making you smile. Immediately you dismissed the thought and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Taehyung awoke from the smell of eggs and toast. You were slurping on a cup of coffee when he finally realized that he was not in his home. The look of his face was comical together with his scruffy hair.

“Slept well?” you asked with a grin.

“How did I get here?”

“You have us to thank.” Hayi replied him.

“The bathroom is down the hall.” you pointed. Taehyung got up to clean himself. You could tell he was embarrassed, another quality which you found cute.

“What happened to my lips?” he asked as he came out from the bathroom.

Hayi stared at you to give him the answer but you just kept quiet.

After much persuasion (mostly Hayi), Taehyung agreed to stay for breakfast before leaving. You wondered if he remembered anything about yesterday. Grabbing the chance, Hayi bombarded him with questions to get to know him better. For once, the cold Kim Taehyung actually made a point to make conversation. Thanks to Hayi, you now knew that he loved animals and his star sign was Capricorn.

“See you on Saturday.” you reminded him about your assignment as he left.

“Isn’t he lovely?” Hayi said as she shut her front door.

On Saturday, you sat at the bus stop waiting for Taehyung to come. You had not seen him since that day at Hayi’s place. For the past few days, he had constantly been on your mind. The smallest of things would remind you of him. Whenever you saw a cat or dog, you would remember that he liked animals. Whenever you saw a mother carrying her baby, you would remember that he was good with children. From that scene, you would picture his smile, which was absolutely adorable.

The day after the party, you had gathered up all your courage to tell Jimin you would rather stay as friends. You felt bad when you saw his dejected face but you knew that it was for the best. Jimin had asked you to help him apologize to Taehyung on his behalf.

Taehyung sneaked up and sat beside you, startling you from your thoughts. You saw that the wound on his lips was almost healed.

“Let’s go to the theme park today.” he said.

“Why?”

“Don’t you have your assignment to complete?” he asked.

“What does it have to do with my assignment?”

“So many questions. Aren’t I your mentor?” You nodded. “Then just trust me.”

The both on you got on the bus that would take you to the theme park. To be honest, you did not know what to expect. Obviously it would not be as nice and advanced as Lotte World.

Taehyung bought the tickets, which you insisted on paying for yourself but he refused to take your money. You saw the usual Ferris Wheel, Carousel and Viking ship. Other than that, it was more of a fair with plenty of small booths for games and food. Since it was a Saturday, the theme park was crowded.

“Sit here.” he said as he sat on a bench.

You waited for him to say something or for something to happen. “What are we suppose to do?”

“Take out your notebook and watch.”

You felt silly sitting at a bench and watching people walk pass the both of you. However after a while you started to understand what he meant by watch. There was no better way to understand human nature than to see it for yourself. At a corner, there was a lady who was trying to appease her crying toddler. A couple that walked passed you were arguing about which ride to sit first. At one of the booth, a small girl was screaming in glee because her father had won her a dolly. These were all human nature being portrayed whether in the form of anger or happiness.

Along the way, you took down some notes about what you saw. You doodled a little to try and capture the expressions on their faces.

Taehyung smiled when you started to understand why he was doing what he was doing. He liked watching people. It enabled him to understand so much more about the particular person. Bringing you to the theme park was another side of him he was revealing to you.

To be honest, he had recalled all the events of the party once he got to Hayi’s bathroom. The first kiss during the game was purely because of the dare. You were the prettiest girl in the room and he merely played along in the game. However, the second kiss outside in the garden was genuine. Ever since he met you, he had shown you sides to himself that had always remained hidden.

“Done?” he asked after an hour.

“Yes. This was eye opening.” you smiled while keeping your notebook in your bag.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To the rides of course. I’m not wasting the money I spent on the tickets.”

First, the both of you walked around the booths and played a few games. You aced at the shooting games and won yourself a stuffed toy. Next, the both of you got on the Viking ship which was pretty exhilarating. You noticed that Taehyung was a little scared because he kept his eyes shut throughout the ride.

“Are you okay?” you asked him as you pat his back.

You left him standing outside the viking ship and went to buy two ice creams.

“This is for accompanying me to sit the Viking ship although you were scared.” You passed him the ice cream.

“I was not scared, just a little dizzy that’s all.” He tried to mask his fear with a cool approach.

By evening, the last ride the both of you took was the Ferris wheel. The line was really long and when the both of you finally got in you were just relieved because you did not have to wait anymore. The ride was slow and you could see the overview of the whole theme park. It was a little awkward in the small space and the silence did not help.

“Jimin apologized for his behavior that night.” you broke the silence.

Taehyung who was seated opposite you, came over to you and kissed you. He was definitely not drunk this time so what did he mean with the kiss? Placing your thoughts aside, you decided to enjoy the kiss. He had a tinge of strawberry flavor left from the ice cream on his lips. By that time, you heart was racing and your fingers were clammy.

You were indefinitely definite that you were falling for Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung had been confused about his feeling for you. He had never felt like that before. Most importantly, he felt like you understood him. Plus whenever you smiled, his heart felt as if it was gonna burst and he constantly wanted to kiss you. Therefore to decide once and for all whether he was in love with you, he kissed you in the Ferris wheel.

Within one second of feeling your lips, he had got his answer.

When he finally pulled away and sat back at his seat, you were blushing and suddenly it felt hot in the tiny space the both of you were in.

“Do you want to go out again next week? Not for your assignment, but on a date.” he asked.

One date came after the other. The both of you became inseparable, always feeling empty without the other. When you were with him, you were glad that you managed to come back to the past. You were intrigued by him. It was amazing how you could learn more about him each day and continue to love him even more. Before, you could never believe loving a person that much.

In contrast to his strong and cold outlook, he was actually very frail inside. He hurt easily which made him build up a mechanism to protect himself. Slowly, he let you in bit by bit. The both of you opened up and made yourself vulnerable to each other.

“I’m sorry, it’s gonna hurt a little.”

You felt a stretch as he entered you. Your tears were threatening to spill at any moment. His groan only made you determined to hold back the pain you were feeling. The pain soon passed and was replaced with pleasure.

His bare body rubbing against yours made you feel sexy yet close to him. His breathy moans made you even more turned on. When the both of you finally reached your highs, you looked Taehyung in eye and it was then, when you knew he was the one. The whole first time experience was phenomenal and made you feel closer to him than ever.

You could never forget how it felt to wake up next to him the next morning. He had placed small kisses tracing from your shoulder to your back. Holding you tightly, the both of you shared a deep kiss despite your complains of morning breath. At that moment, you wished time would stop and you could stay forever in your eternal bliss.

One of your favorite dates with Taehyung was painting at home, wearing as little as possible. It was a hot summer afternoon when the both of you decided to strip down to your undies. Taehyung accidentally smeared his hand with paint which he then conveniently wiped it on you. Immediately, you attacked back with more paint and smeared it along his chest.

Taehyung grabbed his brushes and painted your face with it. He pinned you down by tickling you and smeared more paint all over your body. You had become defenseless and allowed him to cover you in as much paint as he wanted. He leaned in and kissed you which then you flipped him over, topping him and rubbed all the paint on your body onto his.

Ten minutes later, the both of you were covered with paint from head to toe. As usual, Taehyung grabbed his camera and snapped a picture of the both of you. You kissed his cheek right before he pressed the button. He had used a Polaroid camera which immediately developed the picture and he pasted it on the wall.

“We need a shower.” you said.

“Then let’s go.” Taehyung said as he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

On another date, the both of you visited the art museum and were absolutely blown away. Both your eyes twinkled in amazement of the paintings and sculptures. People could hardly understand yours and Taehyung’s relationship with art. You however, liked to think that it was art that brought the both of you together.

Taehyung decided to pursue photography although his family opposed to his decision. His dad who had long divorced his mum had threatened to stop paying for his education but Taehyung was determined to walk down that path. With time, his mother finally gave him her blessing to pursue his passion.

It was no secret that you were Taehyung’s muse and he was yours. He always made it a point to include small hints of you in his photography. In some photos, you modeled for him. However being in the photography line, days were not always rainbows and smiles. It was tough to break into the photography industry. Taehyung promised that the both of you would visit the world once he made it big.

When you turned twenty two, you opened your own art center and taught children of all ages. Taehyung would often come and help guide the children. Seeing him in a paint smeared apron, working together with children, made you imagine what life would be like if the both of you start a family. It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“It’s 8am.” You buried your head into your pillow, trying to ignore Taehyung’s attempts to wake you up. Last night, the both of you were up till 3am, painting.

His fingers attacked your sides forcing you to jolt up, surrendering almost right away. He showed you no mercy and continued to tickle you till you were breathless. You were in a big t-shirt and undies, he was in his boxers when he got up to grab something from the drawer. You were rubbing the sleep from your eyes when he held you by your shoulders. He wore a serious look on his face which scared you a little.

To your amaze, he got on one knee. You were not sure if you trusted your eyes at that moment. He opened up his clenched fist and in his palm was a ring.

“___, I should have asked you earlier but will you marry me and be my muse and inspiration forever?”

Tears were streaming down your cheeks by that point. Unable to say anything, you nodded your head in agreement and leaned in for a hug. He held you tightly, delighted with your response. Holding your left hand, he broke the hug to place the ring on your fourth finger. Then, he quickly grabbed his camera to capture your reaction to keep for future memories.

The next few months the both of you were busy with your wedding. Instead of a big and flashy wedding, the both of you opted for a simple wedding by the sea with several close family and friends.

While shopping for new furniture, Taehyung came across the baby section. He was looking at some cute onesies when you joined him.

“Aww, look at how cute this one is.” you said.

“You know, we should get busy as soon as we get married.” he whispered into your ear.

Ever since the both of you started dating, you have known about Taehyung’s love for children. Due to his dad leaving him when he was young, Taehyung vowed to be a loving and caring father one day to his children.

On your wedding day, you felt excited and a little anxious. Your makeup and dress was perfect and mostly importantly everything was on track. Your mum was sobbing, looking at her little girl all grown up.

For the wedding, you had rented one of those rustic, classic cars to ride in. Hayi rode together with you in the car.

“Did you speak to Taehyung last night?” Hayi asked.

“Yeah... I miss him so much but my mum was insistent that we don’t see each other before the wedding.”

Suddenly, the car rocked violently, scaring both you and Hayi.

“Is everything okay?” Hayi asked the driver.

“There is something wrong.”

Those were the words you remember before the car spun into incoming traffic. You heard a big bang, indicating a vehicle had hit your car, overturning it. Your white dress was stained with crimson red blood. You struggled to keep your eyes open, feeling more sleepy as each second passed. At last, you gave in and shut your eyes.

Present

You opened your eyes, expecting to be in a hospital but instead you saw Byul. Byul, your best friend was once again standing in front of you. That could only mean one thing; you were back. Looking around, you were at the old lady’s place, still in the same clothes.

“How long have I been out for?”

“An hour. I was so worried.” Byul answered.

Your bewildered look was scaring Byul. At that moment, you felt as if you had lost touch with reality. Was it all a dream?

Things went back as usual. You were in 2017, which was where you belonged. Somehow, you felt sad, as if something had been taken away from you. How can a dream be so vivid and feel so real? Ever since you woke up, you felt empty and had an ache in your heart.

On some days, you would lie in bed, not wanting to get up. Even in your dreams, you could still see his face. Everything reminded you of him. Before, you used to love painting but now you refused to even touch a brush. You longed for his touch and his presence. How could you miss someone that doesn’t exist?

“___ why are you crying?” your friend asked you.

People at the gallery gave you unhappy glances due to your disruption of the peaceful environment. You stood in front of a picture, crying your heart out.

“It was real.” was all you could choke up.

Eventually you made people curious. What was so special about the picture that made that girl cry? In other people eyes, you were just a weird girl crying while looking at a picture. In the picture, there was a duck waddling in a lake and a girl who was wearing a floral dress. Oddly enough, the girl crying resembled the one in the picture.

The title of the photo was “My muse, my love.”

The photographer who took the photo had passed on due to a broken heart. His wife-to-be was killed in a tragic accident on the way to their wedding. The exhibition was a tribute to his 30th year of passing on. Before he died, the photographer managed to travel the world fulfilling the promise made to his wife-to-be.

87 notes · View notes

alethiometry · 3 years

Note

kassandra, connor, edward

answered edward here! 😊

First impression

kassandra: loved loved LOOOOOVED her from the start! i saw a couple screenshots in a polygon review before i bought the game and thought she was just the prettiest damn jock i’d ever laid eyes on... and she still is. and from the very first line of the game (leonidas prologue notwithstanding) - the cyclops’ thugs yelling “HEY! SHITFACE!” to her while she’s just vibing on her roof - i was in looooooveeeee. her Scrappy Punk Energy is impeccable.

connor: i actually was kind of ambivalent towards him in the beginning! this was ofc coming off the way-too-long-and-boring haytham sequences, so although i was impatient to get to connor, i was also a little annoyed that there STILL seemed to be so much story before we could run around and be assassin-y. so although i liked him, it was hard not to be annoyed at the slow start of his story. i think it took until like sequence 5 or something for him to get a hidden blade. which, considering there’s only about 12 sequences in ac3, was kind of annoying.

Impression now

kassandra: i still adore her, but for even more reasons! i will never not love the feisty misthios with the conflict deescalation skills of a molotov cocktail side of her, but equally i love her devotion to her family in the main storyline, her justified rage and love for her son in the legacy of the first blade dlc, and even her exhaustion but eventual commitment to her (awful, no-good, horrible) destiny in the fate of atlantis dlc. it’s a little difficult to characterize kassandra definitively, because i think her development/arc is far more loosely constructed than other assassin’s creed protagonists, but in general she is presented as somebody who is humorous and loving and cocky and formidable and charismatic, and doesn’t buckle under the weight of all the responsibility she has taken on, or that has been thrust upon her. she rises to every challenge thrown in her way and comes out of it more resilient and always with that sardonic twinkle in her eye and a smartass comment at the tip of her tongue.

connor: WE STAN A CHARACTER WHO NEVER LOSES HOPE EVEN IN THE FACE OF LOSING HIS MOTHER, HIS HOME, HIS BEST FRIEND, HIS FATHER, HIS PEOPLE, AND HIS MENTOR. WE STAN A CHARACTER WHO SURROUNDS HIMSELF WITH PEOPLE HE LOVES AND WHO LOVE HIM IN RETURN, WHO DOES EVERYTHING FOR OTHER PEOPLE OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF HIS HEART AND BECAUSE IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO, WHO DEFENDS THOSE WHO CAN’T DEFEND THEMSELVES. WE STAN A CHARACTER WHO, WHEN BETRAYED BY PEOPLE HE THOUGHT WERE ALLIES TO HIS CAUSE, SEVERS HIS TIES WITH THEM BUT RATHER THAN SUCCUMBING TO CYNICISM CONTINUES TO DO GOOD AND FIGHT FOR JUSTICE AND FREEDOM FOR EVERYONE. WE STAN A CHARACTER WHO IS ANGRY AND STUBBORN AND CONFRONTATIONAL AND BRUTALLY EFFICIENT AT TAKING DOWN HIS ENEMIES, BUT IS ALSO BLUNT AND HONEST AND SELFLESS AND KIND AND COMPASSIONATE AND UNWAVERINGLY LOYAL TO HIS LOVED ONES.

Favorite moment

kassandra: i can’t just choose one are you fucking kidding me they’re all so good she is so good she is perfect and has literally never done anything wrong ever in her life and we know this and we love her

but her monologue/voiceover to elpidios at the end of legacy of the first blade as she sends him away for his own protection always breaks my fucking heart so maybe let’s go with that 😭

connor: there are once again so many to choose from, but if i had to pick just one... i’m really feeling that haytham-washington-connor scene rn. where haytham exposes that washington was behind the shelling of connor’s village and the death of his mother - clearly with the goal of getting connor to turn on the revolutionaries and see the world for the twisted, cynical place that haytham sees it as (he even says as much in his journal in ac forsaken). but instead of taking the bait, connor responds in his own way: he shows that he is not blind to the fact that washington has been using him this whole time, but also that he knows that haytham is trying to do just the same thing to him now. he immediately recognizes that haytham was waiting to spring this information on him and calls him out on it, and reminds both haytham and washington that he is not stupid, that his loyalty is borne out of his sense of right and wrong rather than naivete, and that his people come first. his people ALWAYS come first.

and maybe i’m just a sucker for monologues but the ac forsaken monologue that was recorded but never added into the game for some unknown godforsaken bullshit reason was so so so fucking good and if it had been included in the game i am sure it would be my favorite. “FOR AT MY SIDE WALKS HOPE??????????? T H A T IS MY COMPROMISE???????????/” ✨🔥😲🌟🙌 ⁉ ⭐💯🙏‼😭👏😭🔥✨ BITCH WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!

Idea for a story

kassandra: i basically stuffed all my angsty kassandra ideas into one wip that i’m not sure if i’ll ever finish but love to daydream about. obviously endgame kassidas because, like, that’s my brand, but i also want to take the time to explore her relationship with natakas the way that ubisoft sure as shit fucking didn’t. it’s kind of an amphipolis fix-it and a legacy of the first blade fix-it all in one, if i can ever manage that. probably the most ambitious wip i’ve ever attempted. oh, and also she gets to raise her goddamn son and doesn’t get saddled with any of that keeper-of-memories bullshit. so in a way it’s just a fix-it for the entire goddamn game because kassandra deserved SO much better and i’ll never not be mad about it.

connor: in continuing the tradition of haytham leaving his journal for connor, i think it would be neat if connor kept a journal for io:nhiote. and i’ve rambled before about a connor sequel but you know what the more i talk about it the more i can maybe will it into existence. i think it would be neat if it was framed in a epistolic way where connor is preserving their family’s legacy as he discovers more and more about edward’s life, writing it all down for his daughter, similar to the way revelations was told through ezio’s letters to claudia. it would start in 1791 with connor traveling to the caribbean to aid the haitian brotherhood in the revolution, and it would take him all across the islands - to cuba, to new providence, to jamaica, to greater inagua. to all the places where edward had been. maybe there would be scraps of journals or message bottles with edward’s memories in them? and when the revolution has been won and connor has learned all he can about edward’s life, he travels to england to visit edward and tessa’s graves and to meet his last living relative: his aunt jenny. she’s old and dying at this point but she’s back at the kenway manor in queen anne’s square and after a little bit of trepidation (and maybe he shows her haytham’s journal or his hidden blade as proof that he’s not just some random dude) she lets him in. she tells him about her life and about haytham as a child, and the more she talks the more at peace she seems to be, and connor smiles and takes her hand and thanks her for letting him in, and she passes away quietly and painlessly. and the last thing he does in england before he heads back to his own family is visit his father’s childhood bedroom. he sees the same edward-ghost (like the altair-ghost at the beginning of acr) that he’s been following through animus-memory or eagle vision or whatever: only this time, it’s not some deep insight into assassin-ing or anything like that. all he sees is edward tucking haytham into bed on the night of his tenth birthday. UBISOFT FUCKING HIRE ME.

i also wouldn’t be opposed to a meet-cute type story for how connor meets his future wife, although it’s a story i would prefer someone else to write (to my exacting specifications ofc lol), rather than write it myself.

Unpopular opinion

kassandra: idk how popular/unpopular this is but i did find myself choosing a lot of the meaner dialogue options because although i think she does have a kind heart and feels genuine compassion for people, i think she is by nature a very blunt and often harsh person. i mentioned in the edward post that i think he and kass are kindred spirits, by which i mean i think they both have rough-and-tumble exteriors that they present to the world, and hold their loyalties and loved ones very close to their heart. they’re both exuberant and extroverted people who thrive as mercenaries but in their most vulnerable moments strive for something more long-lasting and stable and quiet. but where i think they differ is that kassandra is... just a little meaner/more abrasive?

connor: i don’t think i have any? i genuinely can’t think of any right now. connor is perfect and everyone knows it. nothing but respect to the king.

Favorite relationship

kassandra: romantically, obiviously it’s brasidas and/or roxana. i don’t think i need to go more into that. battle couples my beloveds 😍😘🥰

platonically, i of course love her relationship with her family. i would kill to have more endgame content with any surviving family members. i’d love a scene between kass and deimos and nikolaos, and a scene between kass and stentor and deimos. there is so much potential there and the game is so goddamn anticlimactic. and while i understand that some of that is because it’s already a long damn game and it’s difficult to program so many branching narratives and storylines and endings, i also... idk i just wish there was deeper relationship-building in the game

connor: i shipped him with miriam for a hot second until that french dude came along and swept her off her feet 😅 but mostly, as with edward, i don’t really him him romantically with anybody because i know he gets hitched later on in life and we don’t know anything about his wife. besides, there’s not a lot of hot singles in his area (rip). and he even says himself that he’s too busy to settle down just yet.

non-romantically, my favorite relationship/interaction is connor and haytham. they’re such a hot mess and i love it. i love how at odds they are ideologically, and yet despite the constant bickering and snapping at each other they still manage to work well enough together. and the fact that haytham can’t even define how he feels about the son he didn’t know he had and who seems to reject him at every turn, while connor continues to hold out hope that he can reconcile with his father.... but they’re both too goddamn stubborn to voice it... i should be angry with These Idiot Men for bottling up their feelings like this, but with these two, i get it. i get why they are the way they are, and i’m just here for the ride. they’re not passive-aggressive about it (well - haytham kinda is), they’re just aggressive. and i love that. the scene on the rooftop where haytham tells him “the only different - the only difference between myself and those you aid, is that i do not feign affection” is SO good. (i almost listed it as my favorite scene but i think i like the washington scene better bc it’s more indicative of connor’s character, whereas this one is more indicative of haytham’s)

Favorite headcanon

kassandra: can barely cook. it just wasn’t something myrrine taught her growing up, because as spartan nobles/royalty they probably had helots doing the cookiing (i think there’s at least one helot you see in one of the family flashback scenes), and she would have been way more interested in combat training with nikolaos anyway. and by the time she’s on kephallonia, i highly doubt markos would know how to cook much more than just the bare minimum for them to both survive. and she wouldn’t have access to the meats and spices that she probably grew up eating in sparta - just bread and cheeses, and fish if she can catch them. simple stuff that she can either prepare fairly easily, or that she can steal. essentially, my headcanon is that kassandra can prepare food just enough that she can feed herself (and eventually phoibe). but if you gave her like a chicken or a pig or some other animal and said “make it tasty” she would have no fucking clue what to do.

connor: i like to think that after achilles’ passing, he started taking in stray animals. the mansion is so big and lonely when it’s just him; he’s always lived in close quarters with other people, and as introverted as he is i think the solitude of the empty mansion is just way too fucking bleak. so obviously the solution is that he just starts bringing strays home. maybe it starts with an injured critter that he nurses back to health, or a dog or a cat that keeps following him around when he’s in boston/nyc. but much like how eivor eventually winds up with like 80 pets inside the longhouse, i like to imagine that at some point there’s like 3 dogs, and 2 cats that curl up in/around his bed at night, birds that repeatedly come and nest in the beams of the mansion roof year after year, deer that come by and nibble at the weeds/bushes by the cliffs, because connor may or may not go to great lengths to ensure that their favorite nibblin’ plants grow there year-round.

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#assassin's creed #ac odyssey #ac3 #kassandra #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #MY BELOVEDS....... thank you alli for humoring me!#ask games

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