#i just need to write something longer again i'm dying inside | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellaxgiornata · 8 months

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I'm Right Here

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: After the threat of Sanctuary came to an end and peace returned, you stayed behind in Alexandria where Daryl felt you’d be safest, but he continued with the rebuilding efforts outside of Alexandria's confining walls. With Daryl gone for days on end, you soon found yourself constantly plagued by nightmares again–and the fear that he no longer wanted you.

Warnings/Tags: 18+; light angst, graphic violence, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, implied smut

a/n: I used to write for Daryl so much years ago and have been dying to write for him again! I do have another fic in the works for him and feedback is always appreciated!

With the flashlight aimed straight ahead of yourself, you stepped one foot carefully inside of the dilapidated and darkened clinic. Cautiously you began to shift your weight forward onto your foot, internally praying that nothing was lurking behind the dust-covered front desk on the wall to your right. It was damn near impossible to see anything inside the building without the light from your flashlight with the way the windows had long since been boarded up.

Gradually you eased your way further inside the building, one foot moving slowly after the other as you scanned the room from left to right. You left the entrance to the clinic ajar behind you in the event you needed to run; you didn’t want to waste time fighting with a closed door if a handful of walkers surprised you in these dark, enclosed quarters. But that didn’t stop the hairs raising along your forearms, a prickle of fear running through you at the prospect of something or someone sneaking up behind you while you searched for the medical supplies your group desperately needed. Though you knew Daryl was out checking the perimeter right now, which meant nothing undead should be able to sneak up on you from the outside at least.

Scanning what once had been a waiting room, you saw a handful of upturned plastic chairs scattered along the floor. A few were broken in what must’ve been a scuffle that’d occurred at some point since the world had gone to shit. Garbage and debris littered the outdated tile floor, but thankfully there were no dead lying dormant nearby.

Shining your flashlight upwards, always overly cautious, you spotted the sagging ceiling tiles from compounding water damage over the years. You grimaced, internally planning to give the area beneath it a wide berth. You didn’t want to risk being trapped under debris if the ceiling happened to collapse while you were here.

Lowering the flashlight beam, you scanned the waiting area once more before dropping your guard just a little bit more. You wanted to get in and out of here as fast as you could so that you could get back to the others before the sun set tonight. It wasn’t exactly like you had time to waste since Michonne desperately needed whatever supplies you could find here. Unfortunately taking your time fully scanning the area like you usually would wasn’t an option right now–and at least Daryl wasn’t in here to scold you for that.

Feet hurrying across the dirty, tiled floor, you made your way through the waiting room and towards the door all the way at the back of the room. Most likely it led to the actual patient rooms where there would hopefully be some basic supplies not too picked over. And maybe if you were lucky there would be a supply closet somewhere around here that hadn’t been picked clean yet, either. Though admittedly whatever you could get your hands on would have to do for now.

Stopping in front of the door, you briefly switched your flashlight to the same hand as your knife, awkwardly holding the pair as you reached out with your now free hand, twisting the door handle before gently pushing it open just a crack. Immediately you readied yourself, swapping your flashlight back into your other hand and raising your knife, ready to strike a walker if it came barreling towards you.

Except only silence met your ears.

Carefully you pressed a shoulder up against the door, pushing it open wider. The beam of your flashlight instantly flooded the short, dark hallway. There were three doors to your right and three to your left, a single door at the opposite end of the tight space.

Teeth gritting nervously together, you slowly slipped around the door you’d just opened, surveying the few open rooms as you moved. You didn’t like that only a couple of the doors were closed, that fear of something sneaking up behind you only growing. With your heart hammering just a bit harder in your chest, you moved carefully to the open room on your right.

Shining your flashlight inside, you spotted what looked like a regular doctor’s office. A tattered and sun-faded bed was to the far right, a cork board covered with photos and holiday cards with dates from years long past were on the wall just beside it. As you shined the flashlight to your left in the small space, you spotted two more of those plastic chairs you’d seen in the waiting room lined against the wall. Shining the beam further to your right, just beside the door you’d stepped through, you spotted a sink and a few cabinets on the wall opposite of the bed.

Relief flooded through you as you hurried over, quickly opening the cabinets on the wall. You found gauze, cotton swabs, bandaids of different sizes and shapes, and rubbing alcohol filling the shelves. Eyes widening in surprise at the abundance of supplies, you swiftly removed the backpack from your back, setting it down onto the countertop beside the sink with a soft thunk . The sound of the zipper being undone was loud in your ears, contrasting with how quiet the clinic was as you opened the main compartment of your bag, but you kept your focus on the task of grabbing everything you could as quickly as you could.

With your bag open and your left hand shining the flashlight onto the cabinet’s shelves, you set your knife down beside your bag on the counter. Hurriedly you began to swipe item after item, tossing each one into your backpack one after the other. You figured if there were items like these still here in this room, there was hope that something even more useful might be found in a supply closet somewhere.

Though while you frantically continued to fill your bag with medical supplies, you’d admittedly become so distracted by your thoughts of what else you might find that you hadn’t realized you weren’t alone anymore. It wasn’t until the walker lurking nearby had come up behind you, latching onto your shoulders with its partially decaying hands in a grip that felt far too strong for anything other than a newly turned undead, that you’d accidentally startled and screamed. In your fright, your hand bumped your knife that you’d set onto the counter and it proceeded to fly off the countertop, landing with a loud clatter by your feet and entirely out of your reach.

Struggling against the walker's grip on you as it shoved you further forward, the countertop biting uncomfortably into your stomach, you heard more rasping and growling coming from nearby. Your hand flew backwards, trying to smash the walker’s head in with the butt of your flashlight, but its skull was considerably more solid than a walker that had been decomposing for far longer than this one. A wash of fear ran through you when you realized your flashlight wasn’t going to be able to save you right now.

Still struggling to remain out of the reach of the walker’s teeth, your hand precariously placed against the thing’s unnaturally pale forehead, you tried with all your strength to shove it backwards. But that familiar sound of more loud, rasping, growls soon met your ears once again–this time louder. Seconds later there were more walkers shuffling in through the door, the movement catching your eye. In your unfortunate moment of distraction, the walker you’d been trying so hard to hold back leaned forward just enough to sink its teeth onto your wrist and clamp down hard.

A scream ripped its way up through your chest, tearing its way shrilly out of your mouth as the walker bit off a chunk of flesh and muscle. Hot, fresh blood began gushing its way down your arm as visceral pain shot through your body so blindingly powerful that you hadn’t even noticed the other walkers already descending on you. Though soon you felt their hungry hands grabbing at your arms and your back just before another sharp burst of searing agony cut through you when a second set of teeth dug into your back, just below your left shoulder. You cried out, warm tears spilling forth as realization set in.

They were going to eat you alive.

A third set of teeth snapped at your neck, a strangled cry weakly flying out of you as it clamped down hard on your skin. More of your blood began to soak you as the thing tore away another mass of your flesh, the coppery tang of it strong in the air. But as the bodies of the dead continued to press you further into the corner, keeping you trapped as they continued to tear into you, you swore you heard Daryl’s voice calling your name. Your eyelids slowly fluttered shut at the sound of it, your mind trying to focus on that instead of the hands and teeth repeatedly clawing and biting at you.

But just as you’d tried to focus on his familiar and comforting voice, another set of teeth latched onto the side of your jaw and a scream shot itself out of you yet again when the walker’s mouth viciously pulled .

Eyes flying wide open, your heart was fiercely pounding away against the confines of your ribcage, thrumming so hard that you could feel it in your throat. Your body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, the sheets beneath you noticeably damp against your slickened skin. Gasping and wheezing for air, your hands fisted the soft cotton sheets that felt so wrong in this world, though it took your mind a moment longer to register that your right hand had actually tightened around someone else's instead of fabric. A second after that you noticed the weight of a hand gently residing on your bicep and your pulse swiftly escalated further as your head darted to the side along the pillow, expecting to find a walker holding you down on the bed with its rotted and discolored teeth barred in hunger at you.

Instead you saw Daryl kneeling beside you at almost eye level. His long dark hair was its usual disheveled and dirty state on his head, a few of the strands falling into his face. The corners of his eyes were creased in concern as they focused on you, his face contorted into worry despite the thin line of his lips. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you couldn’t miss the panic and fear written so plainly on his face.

"Hey, hey," he soothed in that familiar gravelly voice. "'S'me. You're alright. Just a dream."

Swallowing hard, you continued to pant heavily while attempting to calm the racing of your heart, Daryl’s hand reassuringly squeezing yours as you inhaled a shuddering breath. As usual, your nightmare tonight had been disturbingly vivid and it required a minute for you to remind yourself that it had only just been a dream. You’d been having them for weeks now almost nonstop, though you’d first begun to have them back when the dead had initially begun to rise. But you’d quickly noticed that they didn’t trouble you whenever Daryl was around, especially once the two of you had long since stopped dancing around your feelings for each other and become a couple.

Usually you’d spent most nights at his side, comfortably and safely curled up against his solid and reassuring body. You used to fall asleep to the even sound of his breath in your ears and the warmth of him against you. But he’d been restless ever since Negan had been dealt with and Sanctuary had fallen. He’d been spending all of his time outside of the looming walls of Alexandria helping Rick and the others with whatever he could, clearly trying to work through some of his own shit–or trying to ignore it. Occasionally, every few days, he’d stop back in Alexandria to deliver whatever food he’d caught and stay the night with you. Though the last time he had done that was so long ago now that you couldn’t exactly remember how long ago it had actually been.

And he absolutely refused to take you with him. Always telling you that you were safer here , behind the walls and in the community. With everyone else. But the truth was that you missed him. Missed his comforting presence being such a constant around you. You hated pretending that life was safe and peaceful and perfect in this little community day in and day out with its electricity and showers and fancy home decor. It resembled a life you’d had once, one that was long gone. You worried it was making you soft, wearing you and the others down to something weak .

That fear was what you figured had restarted your nightmares here. Your dreams always involved you or someone else–often Daryl–making a stupid mistake and getting themselves torn apart by the dead. Or of an invading group coming in and taking over, easily picking all of you off one by one because you’d become too trusting and naive in your communities.

But you figured the nightmares had also restarted because of the distance it felt like Daryl was putting between the pair of you, both physically and emotionally. You barely saw him anymore. It felt like you were losing him and that terrified you. Though of course you never told him that, too afraid that such blunt honesty would fully send him running from you. You never told him about the nightmares, either. The only one you’d confided any of that with was Carol.

Carol.

She must’ve said something to Daryl if he was here right now, kneeling beside your bed and silently staring at you with that pained expression on his handsome face. There was no other reason he’d have shown up in the middle of the night like this. He only ever showed up in the afternoons when the day was half over.

“Hey,” you greeted him awkwardly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Hey,” his deep voice rasped out. “Heard ya screamin’ from downstairs.”

“Right,” you whispered, eyes dropping down to where his hands were still holding onto you. “Had a nightmare, that’s all.”

Daryl grunted out a noise in response. You could feel the way his eyes were fixed on you right now, studying you carefully. The weight of his stare was beginning to make you anxious and unsure of what to say next.

“Carol said you’ve been havin’ ‘em for a while now,” he said a moment later. “How come ya didn’t tell me ‘bout ‘em?”

“Can’t really talk to you when you’re not here.”

The words had left your mouth before you even had a chance to stop them. Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes darted back up to his face. Obvious hurt was etched across his features in the dim moonlight slipping past the curtains. You opened your mouth to apologize and take the words back, terrified you’d just made the mistake of upsetting him and sending him running off on his bike and avoiding you for days on end, but his reaction surprised you.

“You’re right,” he muttered guiltily. “Haven’t been here with ya much lately 'cause I been busy helpin' Rick.”

For a moment you laid there stunned, mouth still hanging open as you gaped at him. That was absolutely not the response you’d have expected from him. Daryl usually growled and got angry, disappearing for days on end, leaving you without a word while he attempted to process his emotions and thoughts. You had never liked when he did that, rare as it often had been lately, but you knew he had a complicated past which had often complicated his ability to discuss emotions and feelings, even with you. It was why you hadn’t said anything about his disappearances, choosing to bottle up your own feelings instead. You already saw him so infrequently, you didn’t want to risk him disappearing for even longer periods of time.

But it seemed like right now you were both about to discuss his growing absence, no longer able to put it off. And for some reason that only had nerves twisting and roiling uncomfortably in your stomach, afraid this wasn’t a conversation that would end well.

“Why?” you asked him timidly, pushing yourself slowly upright in the bed. “Are you…not wanting to do this anymore? With me?”

Daryl’s face twisted into a look of confusion and shock at your question. The sight of him so taken off guard by that idea helped ease a bit of your nerves, though you still felt the way your stomach was knotting inside of you in anticipation of his answer.

“What?” he asked sharply, eyes narrowing in disbelief at you.

He shook his head, his hands finally releasing their hold on you as he abruptly pushed off the bed, rising back up to his full height. He paced his way towards the other side of the room, his eyes downcast as he faced the curtained window, running a hand through his hair. You frowned at his back.

“No. That–that isn't why I been gone so much,” he replied gruffly.

“Then why won’t you let me come with you?” you asked quickly, tossing the sheets off of yourself. “Why do you demand I stay here? Without you? You know I prefer staying in camps with you, Daryl. Being by your side. Know that I also feel caged and confined when I’m here just like you do. Why’re you pushing me away?”

“I ain’t pushin' ya away!” he snapped, turning around back towards you.

You hesitated on the edge of the bed, your feet just brushing the floor. Daryl was standing across the room from you, his shoulders heaving visibly in the darkness. You’d touched on something, that much was obvious from his outburst.

“So then why?” you asked him softly, slowly rising to your feet. “Because I–I miss you, Daryl,” you confessed, tentatively padding along the wood floor towards him, afraid to move too fast and scare him off. "It feels like I'm losing you."

“‘M right here,” he gruffly replied.

“Yeah,” you agreed slowly, continuing to gradually make your way towards him, the air cold against your still sweat-dampened skin. “For now. Until you hop on your bike in the morning and leave me for another few days.”

“I ain’t leavin' ya,” he shot back.

“You sure about that?” you asked, unable to hide the frustration in your voice. “Because you always tell me to stay here and then run off without me.”

“Safer here,” he muttered, his eyes dropping back down to the floor. “Told ya that already.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. That was always his explanation and it was getting old.

“Safer than what , Daryl?” you snapped.

“Then out there!” he growled, throwing a hand towards the window. “You’re safer here , behind the damn walls with the others lookin’ out for ya! I just wanna keep ya safe , alright? Why’s that gotta be a goddamn problem?”

“Don’t you miss me? At all?” you asked him, emotion thick in your voice.

His shoulders dropped a bit at your question, the anger visibly dissipating from him. He reached a hand up, rubbing it across his mouth as he nodded once.

“‘Course I miss ya,” he said, tone noticeably softer. “Miss ya every goddamn day. Miss your smile and your laughter. Even miss your smartass jokes,” he confessed, the corner of your lip gradually curling upwards at his admission. “Miss your inability to be quiet for more than a damned minute, even if I don’t miss the way ya always scare off whatever 'm trackin'.”

Biting your lip, you laughed lightly. The sound drew a faint smile onto Daryl’s mouth, his eyes rising up to linger along your face in the darkness.

“I don’t scare them off that often,” you said.

“Manage to scare off rabbits whenever I take ya with me,” he countered.

“Well,” you replied slowly, “rabbits are cute.”

“And I got a lotta mouths to feed,” he pointed out. “Don’t matter what’s cute if we can eat it.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your forehead. As nice as it was playfully arguing with him again–something you had certainly missed–this wasn't what you needed to talk about at the moment. And judging by the way Daryl awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly growing quiet, he was aware of that, too.

“You know keeping me here doesn’t necessarily make me safer than anywhere else, right?” you asked quietly. “Here, with you at a camp, any of the other settlements. Hell, you could lock me in a tower, Dixon, and still something could happen to me.”

“‘Cause ya act without thinkin’,” he grumbled.

You shook your head, hugging your arms tighter around yourself. “Not the point,” you told him. “The point is: anything can happen to me anywhere .”

Daryl grunted, his body tensing up at your words. You saw the slight crease form between his brows as his eyes narrowed back at you once again.

“That s’posed to make me feel better?” he asked, an edge to his tone. "'Cause it don't."

“No,” you answered. “No, but my point is that it doesn’t matter where I am, nowhere is guaranteed to be safe anymore. And I would rather be by your side where I feel safest, Daryl," you told him

Hesitantly you uncrossed your arms, lightly placing your hands on his chest, just over his vest. The leather felt cold beneath your palms, a chill running through you. Daryl’s own hands carefully landed on your hips when you shuddered, his touch instinctively causing you to take a step closer to him.

"What the hell is the point of keeping me safe if I’m not with you, anyway? I miss you,” you continued, attempting to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “You’re the only good thing left in this world to me. The only person I want to spend my days with, Daryl. Who knows how much longer any of us have anymore. And you keep taking that time together away from the both of us everytime you leave me behind."

"Not tryin' to do that," he whispered. "Wasn't tryin' to make ya feel unwanted, neither."

"Then take me with you," you practically begged. "Tomorrow when you leave again. Please. I can help with whatever Rick wants, but when I go to sleep at night I want to lay my head down next to you, Daryl. Every night. For however many nights we have left."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed back at you, quietly contemplating your request as he chewed his lip. Gradually your hands slid their way up his solid chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you.

"Don't you…want that, too?" you questioned him nervously.

His left hand released your hip, instead rising to gently grip your chin between his fingers. He carefully tilted your face further up towards his, his gaze locked on yours so intensely that you felt the prickle of goosebumps along your bare forearms. It took every ounce of self-control not to close the space between you both and kiss him.

"Want ya always," he muttered. "'S'why I wanted ya here. Safe."

He paused, his brows twitching together briefly as if he was struggling to find the words to say more. You stood there with your arms still snuggly wrapped around his neck, quiet and patient as you gave him the time he needed, desperately hoping he would say whatever it was that you could clearly see was on his mind.

“I just don’t wanna lose ya,” he eventually admitted, fingers releasing your chin as his hand slid back to gently cup your cheek. “Couldn’t stand it if somethin’ happened to ya. And after everythin’ that just happened–all that shit with Sanctuary and Negan–it just–just…”

He trailed off, his eyes closing as he winced like he was in pain. The corner of your mouth tugged downwards, your heart aching at the sight of his inner struggle. He continued before you had a chance to say anything though, his calloused thumb lightly stroking your cheekbone as his gaze fixed back on you.

“But ya got a point,” he said. “I been missin’ ya. A lot. ‘S’just not right without ya with me, but I was tryin’ to do right by ya. Keep ya safe ‘stead of bein’ selfish.”

“That’s not being selfish, Daryl, it’s called living,” you countered gently.

He grunted in assent as he nodded slowly. “Alright,” he murmured. “I’ll take ya with me tomorrow. Rick’s got somethin’ he needs me to do. Could probably do with another set of hands.”

Teeth clamping down on your bottom lip, you attempted to fight the smile growing on your lips as a thrill shot through you–at his agreement to bring you with him and because something else was now very much on your mind with his close proximity to you. One of your brows quirked up at Daryl and he huffed out an amused breath, shaking his head at you.

“What?” he asked, a small grin on his face.

Your mouth curved upwards mischievously. “I could think of something else you might need another set of hands for,” you answered coyly.

He snorted out a laugh instantly, his eyes creasing at the corners. You laughed lightly along with him, unable to resist whenever you heard that rare sound of joy coming from him.

“Goddamit, woman,” he said, still grinning back at you. “Always got one thing on your mind.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t, either,” you teased. “I mean I did say I missed you. And it has been a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mere,” he muttered, pulling you towards him with the hand still cupping your cheek.

He quickly closed the remaining distance between the pair of you, connecting his mouth to yours in a sweet, gentle kiss full of so much feeling and tenderness. You could feel the way he’d missed you just from the way his mouth was moving against yours. Though it still never ceased to amaze you how soft and loving his kisses and touches were for a man with such a rough exterior.

With Daryl fully filling your senses–his muscled body pressed flush to the front of yours, the scent of leather, gasoline, and sweat filling your nose, the wet sounds of your mouths connecting over and over loud in your ears, and the taste of him on your tongue–it didn’t take long for you to lose yourself entirely in him, a heat beginning to grow between your thighs as his mouth finally began to give in to your eager and hungry one. As you continued to kiss, your hands wandering into his hair while his began to wander over your body, you could feel his growing arousal stirring against your thigh, the pressure of it only encouraging you.

Which was why you were surprised when he broke away from your mouth after a few minutes, the sound of both of you breathing heavily filling the otherwise silent bedroom. You sent him a silent, questioning look as your chest heaved, wondering if you’d done something wrong.

“Should talk ‘bout those nightmares,” he whispered.

“Later,” you promised, hands tangling into his hair. “Right now I just want you.”

“Told ya already,” he murmured, leaning in to lightly kiss you once more. “‘M right here.”

Tugging his mouth back down towards yours, you began to walk both of you backwards, leading him towards the bed as your hands began to slide the leather vest from off his shoulders. The only comfort you wanted right now was the kind he provided each time his mouth lovingly lingered along your skin, the way his hands affectionately touched you in ways you couldn’t explain, and the way he filled you and made you feel whole, always reminding you of what you’d gained in this world instead of what you’d lost.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #bellas comfort fic week #the walking dead

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aetherdoesthings · 29 days

Note

I really hope that one day suddenly one orphan child will be a friend with reader like arlecchino and clerve

would you like to be friends? (pt. 4)

forethoughts: while the votes are piling in as to if i'm writing smut (yeah i'm 100% writing smut), enjoy this little writing i wrote :)

notes: child!gn!reader, NOT AN X READER READER IS A CHILD!!!

Life as Father’s child was different from life in the House.

Father had helped you move your belongings from the room in the House to her own private estate in a secret location you didn’t know.

Your room was twice the size of your room in the House, and you even had butlers and maids that would tend to your every need.

You no longer wore rags or worn out clothing; you always had the most pristine and luxurious clothing.

Even your nightwear was expensive.

Everyday, you spent your breakfast, lunch, and dinner eating with Father, discussing various details or events you wanted to share with her. You treasured every moment you had your daily meals with Father. Father, the busy woman she is, never always had the time to be by your side every second of the day. But your meals? No, that was a must that you will spend your meals with her. You didn’t protest against it.

Father didn’t spoil you, of course. Father still made you do your chores and work like you were in the House again. She still found the time to play together with your new toys every once in a while.

Sometimes Father would bring you back to the House again when she wanted you near her. It was always a reluctant ‘yes Father’ whenever she asked you. While she worked you could go to the ‘playroom’ and play with your new toys, or just wander the halls until you find something interesting to bide your time.

It was one of those days when Father had something to do in the House, and wanted to bring you with her because the butlers and maids were on their break. Father was very kind, much to people’s thoughts. So while Father worked in her office, you wandered around the halls, making your way to the ‘playroom’ with your toys in your hand.

Just as you opened the door, your muscles stiffened, grip on your blade tightening as you saw a tiny figure inside the room.

A girl with magenta hair and sea green eyes with a white headband was standing in your spot, trying to lift a sword like you did on that fateful day. She was about your height, maybe taller, to your dismay. Your heart fluttered as you stared at her trying to do the same thing you did on that day, so lost in trying to swing the blade she didn’t even notice you standing there.

You opted to stop the girl before she could hurt herself like you did after a while of watching her be by herself.

“You aren’t allowed in here.” You said with a steely voice as you closed the door behind you, turning on the light switch. The girl screamed, her eyes meeting yours as she dropped the sword. Thank the archons she didn’t hurt herself.

The girl quickly recomposed herself as you approached her, putting on a smile. “I-I… uh… was just… looking around.”

The girl dropped her tone, looking into your eyes, her eyebrows furrowing.

Crap.

“Hey, you look familiar.” The girl exclaimed, examining your body. Certainly she didn’t recognize you; your appearance practically changed the minute you became Father’s child. You had dyed your hair white and black like Father’s, and only wore black and white like Father. You were practically Father’s child self.

“No I don’t.” You scoffed, moving the girl aside from your play area.

“Yes, you do. You’re…” The girl let out a gasp. “You’re Y/N! You’re the one who got adopted by Father! Woah… that means you’re also the one who cut up Fredrick and Clint! You’re really popular, you know!”

You flinched at her tone, occupying yourself with setting up your playroom the way you liked it. “I didn’t cut them up. They cut themselves up.”

“Woah… you even look like Father.” The girl stared at you with her jaw glued to the floor. She shut her jaw, smiling widely at you. “I’m Cynthia! Nice to meet you!”

You glanced at Cynthia, before grabbing the second training dummy. “You’re not allowed in here. Only Father and I are.”

“Oh. I wasn’t aware of that. Sorry.”

“Just go. You’re disrupting my time.”

“Oh.” Cynthia frowned. Your heart churned at that frown, twisting into itself until you let out a sigh, facing Cynthia.

“You can… stay… if you want.” You muttered begrudgingly. “I don’t care.” Cynthia smiled brightly, hugging you. “Yay! Thank you, Y/N!”

You let out a grunt of disapproval as she hugged you. Cynthia removed her hands around your body, dipping her head. “Sorry. Not a hugger, aren’t you?”

“Hmn.” You were a hugger. Only for Father’s hugs. Not some random kid.

You ran your usual training routine Father had taught you, while Cynthia watched from afar. You tried to put on your best performance; you were being watched by someone not Father after all.

“Woah!” Cynthia clapped every single time you performed a standard move, watching you like you were some circus performer. You resisted the urge to tell her to pipe down and shut up. Well, it wasn’t that hard. Something about her constant cheering and support made your movements much more confident and eloquent, a small grin on your face when she would clap.

“Is that how you hurt Fredrick and Clint?” Cynthia asked, as the two of you sat down in the ‘playroom’, eating your lunch next to each other. You watched Cynthia eat her plate of fried rice while you snacked on the wrap Father had packed for you, your blades put to the side.

“No.” You responded.

“How did you then?”

You looked at Cynthia with a strange expression. “Why do you want to know?”

“I think it’s kinda cool you beat up the most popular kids.”

“Do you want to do the same?”

“...Kinda. They got too full of themselves, you know!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Violence isn’t everything.” You repeated Father’s words.

“I guess.” Cynthia smiled, looking at you. “Your hair looks really pretty. Maybe… turn around!”

Reluctantly, you did. Cynthia placed her tiny hands into your hair, combing through the locks. She grabbed a few strands of your hair, and began playing with the strands.

“What's it like being Father’s child?” Cynthia asked.

“It’s nice.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“Well… I live in a very big room in a very big house.”

“Woah! That sounds really nice!” “It is.” You smiled, as Cynthia let go of your hair, spinning you around. “There! You look really really pretty now!”

A drop of warmth filled your heart, adding to the flame inside you. “Y-You think?”

“Yeah!” Cynthia smiled. “Say.. Y/N.. would you like to be friends?”

Friends.

You never had friends.

No one ever asked to be your friend.

“You… want to be friends?” You repeated her sentence.

“Yeah! You seem like a really really cool person, and I’d love to be friends with you!”

You looked into those sea green eyes that glimmered with energy and hope, unlike Father’s obsidian ones with red crosses in them that promised warmth and comfort. A friend. Your first friend.

“O-Okay.” You said, smiling.

“Yay!” Cynthia beamed, hugging you. She immediately retracted her arms, looking at you with an apologetic smile. “S-Sorry. I’m a big fan of hugs.”

“It’s…okay. You can hug me if you want.” You mumbled softly, hesitantly smiling at her.

“You have a really nice smile.” Cynthia giggled, placing two thumbs on either end of your mouth, pulling it upwards slightly. “You should smile more, grumpy pants!” You naturally smiled at that comment, the corners of your mouth exceeding Cynthia’s thumbs.

“Sure.” You said. Suddenly, the door to the ‘playroom’ creaked open, revealing Father’s figure.

“Oh.. Y/N. And Cynthia. What are you doing here? This is a dangerous room.” Father said, walking towards you. She picked you up, before taking Cynthia’s hand.

“O-Oh.. uh… I was just looking around. Sorry, Father.” Cynthia mumbled, trying to come up with something.

Father look at you, then at Cynthia, before letting out a sight. “Alright then. Off you go. The others will be missing you.” Father smiled at Cynthia, petting her head before sending her off. Cynthia waved her hand at you, flashing you one more smile before she ran off. The fluttering feeling in your heart faded away, the image of her smile imprinted into your head.

Father noticed that grin on your face as she carried you back to her office. “Perhaps we can visit the House more often then, dear.”

Your cheeks flushed red, burying your head in Father’s collarbone. Of course even Father knew. “F-Father!”

Father let out a laugh, ruffling your hair. “Don’t fret, my dear. It’s perfectly normal for a child your age to-”

“FATHER!”

#genshin impact #arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino x reader #my child #aetherwrites

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strongheartneteyam · 10 months

Text

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!human!reader/female!dreamwalker!reader

Chapter 7

CW: a good amount of angst, reader finally is letting neteyam in and realizing how she does truly love him too, physical contact, neteyam suffering while holding back from mating w/ reader, mentions of sex, yearning, sexual language, reader and neteyam acting like a cute couple, playful flirting, reader is more vulnerable with neteyam, a lot of fluff, reader feels guilty about the way she's been treating neteyam. Tell me if I'm missing something important!

Sorry for taking long to update, my angels 🥺🤍 unfortunately I'm going through a tough path in my personal life rn and bc of that I fell on a horrible depressive episode that I'm still on. So, my motivation to do stuff is very low at the moment and as I have to deal with my adult responsibilities that I can't run from bc nobody can, rn the best I'm able to do is focus the tiny bit of energy I have onto getting them done. I won't be able to update my fanfics as fast as I used to for some time. Can't say how long, it's not under my control currently, sorry :( But I LOVE writing, it's a great escape for me, from life problems and stuff, so, I really do not plan on stop writing fanfiction. I promise! Don't worry too much. Some of the upcoming chapters of this fanfiction, for example, are already saved on my Google Docs. I'll take longer but I won't stop updating. Anyway, I'm a tiny bit (ok maybe much more than that lol) insecure about this chapter but I hope y'all like it. Seeing your comments about the fic would make me incredibly happy. I'm needing some serotonin right now 🥲 Thanks for reading my writings ♡

Not proofread. Sorry if some parts are a bit messed up. I'll proofread it as soon as I can <3

Chapter 6

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

So this is me swallowin' my pride

Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night

(...)

It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you

Back to December (Taylor Swift)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You inclined yourself slowly and sheepishly in Neteyam's direction, still feeling guilty for the way you had been treating him before. Neteyam sensed your self doubt and quickly swept you off your feet, taking you inside his arms, so he could finally get the hug he had been dying for, so he could finally feel your small body against his bigger one. His big hands were now under your thighs, securing you in place against his warm body. That closeness, his touch… it all felt incredibly good. You cursed yourself for pushing him away and postponing that moment. To think you could have felt that before and you didn't… "Stupid girl" you thought.

You were now really far from the ground but you felt safe. Now you knew Neteyam would always protect you. He would not let you fall and get hurt. He was not and had never been a threat to you. There was not and there never was any reason for you to be afraid of him.

"Oeyä yawne…" (my beloved) "You feel so soft and tiny… Eywa… Nga yawne lu oer" (I love you) His voice was choked with emotion as he held back tears of joy while he hugged you as tight as he was able to - without hurting you - and you rested your head upon his shoulder. Your nose was hovering over his neck and you sniffed his skin, smelling his natural, cozy scent. It was intoxicating, drawing you in, making you wanna stay like that forever.

You breathed in deep and relaxed inside his huge arms that held you for the first time but still strangely felt like home, like you had felt them around you a thousand times already. If you believed in past lives - which you didn't - you'd explain this odd but amazing feeling as you having found your soulmate again, in this current life. There was no fear of Neteyam inside of you anymore. You only yearned for more and more of him, only a burning affection kept your whole being warm, just like his massive body did too.

"There's still something I need to ask of you, if this is gonna work out between us." You said, breaking the hug for a while to look him in the eye

"Say it, yawne."

Neteyam was still so utterly happy that he did not even seem to be shaken by that, which he could have been

"You know why I pushed you away. First of all, finding out an alien double your size has been stalking you is freaking unnerving." You still gazed into his eyes, wanting him to pay attention to your words "Second, you acted like a creep. At least compared to the way human guys act around girls they're interested in. I don't really have any experience dating na'vi boys, you know?" You choked a little as you were trying hard to hold back laughter

"Ouch…" Neteyam playfully pretended to be extremely hurt by your previous statements. He chuckled "In my defense, I'd say my instincts are to blame, not me, exactly." You gave him a death stare, but in a playful manner too "When I saw you, I knew you would be the perfect mate for me and I had to make you mine. Everything about you rubbed me just the right way."

You smiled. He was being silly and so sweet. You just could not resist it.

"By the way, when did you see me for the first time?"

Neteyam seemed to get shy after that question. You wondered why.

"I fell in love with you while you were in your Avatar body, yawntu. That's when I first saw you." Neteyam looked up at you again, smiling but showing no teeth

"You what?" You questioned him, a bit shocked but you could not bring yourself to be mad at him, though. Imagining him hiding behind trees and up in branches to watch you silently seemed adorable in your eyes, now.

And yes, you knew it sounded crazy, to find someone who used to literally stalk you adorable, but nobody said that anything that was happening to you right now made any sense. Not even you would try to.

"How did I never notice you were around?" You shook your head in disapproval of your distraction back in the forest.

What if it had been a na'vi who did not trust you a single bit to even let you Dreamwalk freely, without grabbing you by the arm and taking you to the Olo'eyktan and the Tsahìk? Some na'vi hated humans to that point. And, as you always said and always would say, you had a great empathy towards them and could imagine yourself feeling the same way if you were na'vi. You could never bring yourself to judge them as harshly as way too many humans did. You knew they were not the villains of the story. But still, what if that na'vi tried to hurt you? You felt tense at the thought.

Neteyam noticed your uneasiness and tried to calm you.

"Don't worry, yawne. I'm a great warrior. A big part of being a good warrior is being really focused on one's mission and knowing how to get by as unnoticed as possible. So many other humans in their Avatars and even many, many na'vi wouldn't notice me, either."

Neteyam still wanted to call those other humans "demons in false bodies" but he was not going to. He knew it would hurt you and make you feel like he was talking about you too. But he was not. Whenever he had called you "demon", it never meant the same thing as it would mean if he was talking about any other human. But he knew it would be hard for you to understand. So he promised himself that he would never call you "demon" again. After that eclipse night when the both of you were talking in front of your bedroom window, he realized how much it hurt you when he called you that. He hated himself for bringing you pain. And his heart hurt so badly when he thought about the possibility of you pushing him away again. It made him want to hold onto your small, frail body tightly and say "Please, don't leave me! I can't be without you again… Please…"

"If you say so… I still think I should've been more careful, though." You say, still feeling a little nervous and thinking that maybe you had not been the best student when attending to your classes about na'vi behavior and that maybe you didn't pay enough attention to warnings they may have given about being mindful of your surroundings when Dreamwalking

"I promise it's okay. It was not your fault, yawntu. I'm just good at what I do." His smile clearly showed he was proud of being a good warrior

"Ok, then." You smiled back at him and the both of you laughed a bit.

Suddenly, he stopped smiling and his gaze dropped to your lips, that were not that far from his own lips, if it wasn't for that damn oxygen mask. You felt like he wanted to kiss you. The moment was awkward but in a good way. He could not kiss you with the mask on, so, instead, he smiled at you once again and looked down at the floor, bashful.

You touched his huge, gorgeous face and he looked up at you again "So, about what we were talking about before… Just try to be a little less… upfront about what you feel for me. I mean… sexually. I love that you want me this much because I want you too, Neteyam. A lot, actually. You're… really freaking hot." He smiled, blissful, and his cat-like eyes sparkled as he heard that, his ears perking up. "But you're a bit too much, at times. If you could just tone it down a bit…" Neteyam looked a little ashamed and insecure, so, you rubbed your thumb on his soft skin, to reassure him you still longed for him too "At least while I get used to your na'vi nature, it would be great. Please, try to understand me… It's a whole new world I'm just now discovering. But it doesn't mean I don't love you and don't want you and it doesn't mean you should feel insecure." You smiled gently, showing no teeth.

Neteyam looked a bit sad again after you finished your sentence and you totally understood why. In his na'vi mind, you were practically rejecting him. That was who he truly was, animalistic and a bit too much to your human standards. He must feel like who he is was not enough or good in your eyes.

"Hey" You cupped his face again "I wanna do something. Just let me take this mask off, first." You wanted to reassure Neteyam of your feelings for him by giving him a kiss.

"Yawne, no! You can't breathe without it. You could die really fast! I'm not gonna let you do it."

"So you don't want a kiss, Neteyam Suli? I thought you'd want it, judging by the way you have been stalking me and by our interaction that night, outside my bedroom's window." You teased him and his face lit up

Neteyam gave you an excited smile. The way his full lips curled up as he quickly pondered about the pros and cons of your offer was so beautiful, almost hypnotizing.

God, you really were in love with that na'vi boy, weren't you? There's no going back now. He's holding your heart in his big, weird but cute, alien hands.

"I guess if we make it quick-"

"Shut up, Neteyam." You interrupted, chuckling playfully "I know you're dying to feel my lips on yours. Just help me take this mask off already." It was a bit hard for you to take the mask off while holding onto his shoulders. You knew he would not let you fall but still you wanted to still feel a bit of control and keep holding onto him too.

Neteyam got surprised by your boldness, since he did not see it coming, and he could only think about how freaking amazing it would feel to finally taste your lips, so, he did as you asked - leaving the mask hanging on your neck by the strap it had - and you rapidly held his big pretty, blue face, brought your lips to his and placed the most tender of kisses there, pressing your mouth against his mouth softly but with so much care, trying to let him feel how much you desired him too. His lips were velvety, warm and so incredibly good to kiss. God, you did not care that you were risking dying from lack of oxygen. You wanted that alien boy so badly.

Neteyam's still tense demeanor soon turned into a calmer one as he kissed you back. His hold on you got tighter as he felt your sweet soft lips on his. He felt so incredibly hungry for you. How could he not be? Your kiss was the most delicious thing he had ever felt in his whole life. You both shared saliva and wet each other's lips with each time your lips parted only slightly and came together again. Your soft skin made him want to squeeze you and never let you go again. Neteyam wanted to cuddle with you, wanted to wrap his tail around your small body in a possessive way to let you know you're his and that he would take care of you, hunt food to feed you and protect you from anything that could ever hurt you.

It was getting harder and harder for him not to lay you on the ground and press his body against your tiny one and make love to you right there but he knew that, thinking rationally, that was not a good idea at all, as the both of you were just outside a laboratory full of humans and you two could easily get caught and be in danger.

Even though Neteyam craved your body insanely, now even more than before, as he was finally feeling you close and tasting your lips, he was trying to take it as slow and gentle as he could because he wanted to respect your limits instead of scaring you away again. He understood you were human and your race acted in a very different way when it came to relationships. He still thought it to be a dumb way to lead things but it was you who was asking him to act differently and he loved you with his whole being. He could not bring himself to say "no" to that request. He knew it would be temporary and you soon would give into the na'vi that lives inside of you when it came to mating too. For you, Neteyam could wait. He knew things would soon change for the better. You were now in his arms, as the two of you kissed. You were no longer afraid of him. That was everything he needed at that moment. Things were already so much better.

Neteyam noticed you were having more and more trouble breathing, so he got worried and quickly put your oxygen mask back on.

You gasped for air and breathed in so much oxygen once you had your mask on that it might have been funny to watch, though Neteyam did not laugh. On the contrary, he seemed way too serious, way too worried about your safety. You wanted him to relax a bit.

"See how much I love you? I risked dying just to give you a kiss." You tried to speak normally but what came out of your mouth was a hoarse whisper instead, as your lungs were still in need of more air. A weak smile was adorning your lips as you struggled but still managed to let out a frail chuckle

"Don't say that, oeyä tawtute, please." Neteyam told you, trying to stay serious but still letting out a chuckle as well

"See the sacrifices I make for you, Neteyam?" You tried to seem mad at him at the beginning, only to start laughing shortly after, now that you finally had enough oxygen in your system to be able to let out an actual laugh, even if it still sounded weaker than your laughing would sound in another situation

He smiled big and teased you "Skxawng." (moron)

"But you love me." You closed your eyes while smiling, full of yourself

"I do." You opened your eyes to look at his face "More than you think, yawntu."

Your heartbeat accelerated intensely and you blushed. Neteyam found your blushed cheeks adorable. He looked at you so intensely, like he was holding the most precious thing in the world in his arms.

Neteyam knew he had just fallen even harder for you now that you both had kissed. He could not wait until he could be alone with you in a safe place and get to explore your body with his hands and kiss you all over. He almost got hard just thinking about that but he tried his hardest to whoosh that away. Neteyam was scared that feeling his bulge would be too much for you at that moment, specially since he knew he was much bigger than the human males you were used to. You might feel uncomfortable because of that difference and the sudden intimate feeling of his hard big cock against you and want to get out of his arms. Neteyam did not want that to happen. He needed you there a bit more, he was not ready to let you stand on your feet yet. And he was so afraid of you not wanting him close anymore, he was so afraid of perhaps ruining what you both had now. It was far too special for him. He could not let his sexual instincts ruin that. The time would come when you would let him in completely, when you would grant him permission to be inside of you and show you how much he craved your pussy, how much you messed with his head and awakened his most intense desires. Until then, he would wait and take baby steps. For you, he was capable of waiting for ages, though he hoped so strongly it would not take long.

༊⁀➷

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@neteyamsmate4life

@c-h-i-l

@criticallybella

@celi-xxmoon

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cyber-night · 2 months

Text

Hihihihi, so important update as to why I have vanished. I was diagnosed with a genetic condition that affects my muscles and means I'm losing my fine motor skills, skills like typing and writing, so this is taking so much effort to actually do as it's getting worse. I'm okay. I'm going to keep writing, but it's going to be at my own pace so I can mitigate the effects.

Content Warnings: Non-con to Dub-con, Priest Fyodor, Religious themes, Dom Reader, Sub Fyodor, Drowning, Degradation, Hair pulling. Tell me if I missed something.

Fyodors head was pushed down under the water, his robes flipped up over his ass and pushed up his back, exposing his pale skin and malnourished body. You held his hair in a death grip under holy water, water he himself had blessed.

He was struggling to escape your grip, not really afraid but more angry. He was too weak to fight you off physically. He trembles as he tries to flee. Your cock pistoning into his tight hole. He manages to push himself out of the water, making you laugh as he struggles to hold himself up on the slippery marble lip of the font. After taking his skinny wrists in one hand and then shoving his head under the water again with the other you shift him so his toes are the only part of him touching the floor and then go back to brutally fucking him. He's left writhing and the fear kicks in as his lungs scream in pain at the lack of air. The way you fuck him like you hate him makes him want to cum but he can't he needs more, after all you're fucking him like hes a toy with no care for his own satisfaction.

When you shift to finally abuse his prostate, his body trembles, going weak he no longer tries to fight back, too lost in fear and pleasure. He's struggling to stay conscious with the lack of air. When you pull his head up above the water so he can breathe, he takes in gasping breaths, moans interspersed alongside them. "Think you can keep quiet, Father?" You ask cruelly. "Imagine what your parish would do if they knew you weren't just a sinner but a common whore." Before he can argue and fight back you push his head under the water again his head pressed against the bottom of the marble basin as his body weakly twitches. You pet the back of his neck with your thumb as you pull harder on his pretty black hair. Fucking him against the font with only your pleasure in mind. Once you cum deep inside him you let him fall to the floor in a heap and start putting yourself back together.

Father Fyodor weakly crawls over to you, drenched in water and trembling. His eyes wide as he throws away his pride. "Please- c-can I..." You cut him off with a laugh "aww did my holy fuck toy not get to cum? How sad. Tell you what, you can use my boot but that's all you get." There's a look of hesitation in his eyes as you lean back against a pew offering him your boot.

He crawls forward and positions himself so he can grind against your leg like a mutt. He hides his face in shame against your thigh before you yank his head back by his hair "Look at me when I'm being so generous to you Father." Fyodor looks up at you weakly his hips stuttering as he grinds faster trying to get it over with. "You should thank me." Fyodor closes his eyes before forcing out a garbled "Thank you" He then pauses and looks at you before whimpering "Need... more." You smirk and wrap a hand around his throat. "You need to feel like your dying is that right slut? Don't worry I can do that for you." Fyodor's body tenses as he cums on your boot his eyes rolling back in his head. "Father~" you sing, bringing him back to the present. "You made quite a mess. Why don't you make your God proud and clean it up." You say smiling sadisticlly "Though I hardly think we should waste it." Fyodors eyes widen at the implications but leans down and kitten licks at the cum covering your shoe.

Once it's clean, you lift your boot and press it against his head, pressing his head to the floor. "I can't help but think you need a less... absent God. You need one to keep you on a short leash and put you to use. I think I could be that God. We could trade your clerical collar out for a nice locked collar with a leash. What do you think?" You ask the priest idly, knowing he's so lost in the after shocks of pleasure and pain that he'll agree to anything.

#sub fyodor #bottom fyodor #bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #cw religious themes

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rainebelowzero · 10 months

Note

Having Kurt cock warm you while you are doing your work

He's whimpering and whining for you to fuck him as your cock is buried deep inside him and he isn't allowed to fuck himself

I combined both of these because they were pretty similar, hopefully that's okay. Also, I'm SO sorry this took so long!! I've had both of the asks for like a month I think, so sorry about that 😵‍💫😵‍💫 I'm still writing requests, I've just been really slow, but I swear they're gonna get done

I wrote this with a really bad migraine, so if there are any mistakes or anything, let me know

cws: cockwarming, praise, overstim, begging

Kurt lets out a soft moan as you readjust him in your lap. He buries his face in your neck, his cock twitching a little with yours buried inside him. You don’t pay much attention to him, letting him get settled and then finishing up some of your work on your laptop. Kurt is silent for the most part, the only sounds being the clicking of the keyboard and his breathing by your ear.

After a little bit, he starts to squirm, so you glance down, seeing his cock start to leak precum against your shirt. Kurt rolls his hips, trying to get you to thrust deeper into him so you gently place your hands on his hips, holding him in place. He whines but takes the hint and stops moving.

A few more minutes pass, and Kurt starts to move again, his breath becoming heavier as he starts to moan louder. He ruts against you, not even really moving up and down so he could feel you hit deep against his walls.

Kurt pants a little bit, before you eventually decide to stop him again, placing a hand on his hip and holding him in place. He whines again, louder this time and you can’t stop an amused look from forming on your face at his desperation. He mumbles something, which you don’t hear at first.

“What was that?” You ask. He sighs and pulls away a little so that his voice isn’t muffled but you still can’t really see his face.

“Please..I– I need…” He trails off and doesn't continue, still trying to grind his hips down in yours. You bring a hand up to his face, making him look at you.

“Please, what?”

“Fuck me, please..I need it so bad..” His voice is quiet, and his cock twitches again, the tip flushed and begging for attention. Your hands make their way back to Kurt's hips, pulling him closer and grinding your cock into him. He holds onto your shoulders tightly as he lets out a small whimper.

You find it hard not to lose your self control, barely anything stopping you from abandoning work and fucking Kurt to tears, but you eventually decide to slow down, Kurt's moans dying down to soft and almost frustrated whimpers.

“You can wait a little bit longer, can’t you?” You respond. He nods, but you can tell he's not happy about it, and you press a kiss to his neck as you go back to work. He mutters softly about being a good boy for you, about how he can wait patiently, he can take it like a good boy.

His neglected cock continues to drool against your shirt, you pressing into his ass so deliciously he can hardly think. He wants to move so bad, he wants nothing more than to just have you pounding into him, but he would never dream of disobeying you. You rearrange a few times so that Kurt's tip is rubbed against you just to hear the long whines that come out of him.

His breath is noticeably heavier as he squirms and pants, sounding like he's in heat, just so desperate for you to do anything to him. You continue to click away at your computer, but you can't ignore the way Kurt's hole squeezes around your cock, as if it was trying to milk you dry. His thighs are trembling as his hands grasp at your shoulders, barely being able to keep himself steady, with his face buried in your neck.

Eventually, Kurt gasps, and his hips buck forward stronger than before. His grip on you tightens to an ungodly amount, his nails are almost digging into you. Broken whines and moans fall from his lips as his cock begins to spurt ropes of cum over your shirt. You raise an eyebrow, but it doesn't surprise you, and you gently grind up into him as he twitches in your lap.

You don't stop when he's done coming though.

He gasps again as you finally start to fully thrust up into him. His eager hole swallows up your cock, and even though his almost painfully sensitive body was begging for him to take a break, he pants and moans loudly as he bounces himself on your cock. Your fingers dig into his hips while your other hand takes one of his nipples, squeezing and rolling it in them.

His dick bobs with all the movement, twitching and throbbing as it becomes more flushed. Your lips meet his neck, kissing and gently sucking along it as he groans from all the overwhelming feelings.

Kurt goes from holding onto your shoulders to full on scratching at the back of the chair. You groan, your hands moving to his ass. Kurt's head pulls away from your neck just enough for you to be able to press your lips to his in an uncoordinated, sloppy kiss. Your tongue explores his mouth as he whimpers, eagerly kissing you back.

His body tenses before he starts to cum again, dirtying your shirt even more and spraying some of it against his stomach where his shirt is riding up. He stops most of his movement, his body going mostly limp in your lap other than slowly and lazily grinding his hips into yours.

One of your hands gently strokes his shoulder as he catches his breath. You whisper soft praises in his ear, he was so good for you, he did so well, and he gives you an exhausted smile, making a short, pleased humming sound whenever you call him "good".

#kurt kunkle x male reader #kurt kunkle x reader #dom male reader #x male reader

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idle-sun · 15 days

Text

~Life and survival after the Great War was particularly hard. Especially while traveling alone.~

TSC did not know where he was going. All he knew was he had to run from the War Machine that just decimated the Nomads he called family.

"ZZZZZ--ARRKILMMM," TSC immediately dived to the dune, as the winged serpent rocketed above him. He was not going to last much longer. His scarf, is almost gone. Like a weaken flame in a lantern, if it go out. He goes as well. All that will be left of him is sand and dust.

Pushing himself to stand, TSC bolts up the hill. His group just past the Pink sands to this Graveyard. The Eldest said there shelter here, and he just need to make it. Hearing a whirl, he sees the sand in front of his feet dyed red.

Making it to the top of the hill he jumps. Wind whips passed again as death screams.

"There!" He chirped. A temple that is almost buried in sand. That's where he can hide. And he needs to get there, fast.

The area of where he fell no longer had the safely of tall shifting dunes he can slide from danger. Only wide open sand.

Sprinting, panting, he see if breath trailing behind him. He so close.

"I'm only half way there, I can make it!" He cries. To his left, a ghostly blue light start to glide towards him and lands on his form. Red light now shines on him. TSC is only a quarter way there, close, but not close enough.

He screams and chirps hysterically.

"I don't wanna die! Help me! Help me! Anyone!!!" Sobbing he can hear the snake growl again.

At the corner of his eye, he sees it, two red carpet creatures as the shape of a triangle swooped behind him. One lifting him up, while the other jets toward the Iron Dragon.

The manta creature quickly glided towards the temple while he hears the Dragon attack. The blood red light no longer shines on him. The manta set TSC down inside the temple.

Collapsing on the cool stone, TSC cries in relief, he was safe. Pulling himself up he hears a ruffle of clothes and footsteps behind him. As he turns the stranger spoke.

"Hello Wayfarer, are you hurt?"

AAHHH omg, I had this in my mind all day~ I usually don't write but I wanted to try something new! Hoped you like a little bit of the world building. I wanted TSC to be saved by Alan when they first meet. Causing TSC to stick to the Elder like glue. Alan in this world is kind of a loner, so he gets a bit stressed when he realized he gained a kid!

#in space is my place #my art #digital art #artists on tumblr #alan becker #animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft #ava #tgc journey #journey game #journey #thatgamecompany

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hellfireclubmember · 2 years

Note

robin buckley with an extremely selfless fem! gf? like she’s just always put everyone before herself and sometimes it doesn’t go well for her

*thank u for the request, i'm sorry for taking so long to finally write it. I hope this is okay <3*

Robin Buckley never thought finding a girlfriend was in the cards for her. A socially inept band nerd was hardly anyone’s first pick for a romantic relationship. Add that to also trying to find another lesbian in Hawkins and you could almost smell the cats in her future. So, when she found you it felt as if she put all of the luck she had saved up for the rest of her life in that single moment, which in her opinion was well worth it. She loved you. It was that simple. She didn’t think she could ever stop loving you either, she was too far in to ever want out.

She stared at your face in the rear-view mirror of Steve’s car as you talked to him about some girl he would be taking on a date that night. She looked at your lips as you spoke, plump and glossy. She wanted to reach back and give you a big smooch.

“She sounds nice, Stevie. I hope it goes well this time.” You turned your head to stare out the window as Steve drove you both to school.

Robin was cursing herself for taking the seat next to Steve instead of insisting on sitting with you. “So, my love,” She often liked to call you this, first because it was true, but second because it made Steve cringe. “Are we still on to hang out tonight?” Robin asked you, bringing your attention back to the front seats.

“Oh well” She could see you start to bite the inside of your cheek a clear tell of nervousness. “I told Margorie I’d take her closing shift tonight.”

Robin turned in her seat to look at you directly. “That’s the third time this week, is Margorie finally dying of stupidity or something ‘cause if so we have to find a cure for Steve immediately.” She listened to you giggle, making her feel warm inside. There was a flick to the back of Robin’s head but it was definitely worth the giggle.

“No, she’s fine but she said she wanted to spend more time with her son so I thought it’d be nice to help her out a little.” You shrugged your shoulders as if it was no big deal.

“Babe, you can’t keep doing that. You spend eight hours in school then you spend four hours working your own shift and then six more hours working Margorie’s. This can’t be good for you.” There was no longer any playfulness in her voice. She knew you liked helping people but this was excessive. “Have you been keeping up with your homework?”

“A little.” And you had been, you’ve been staying up late trying to finish as much of it as you could until your eyes burned from keeping them open. Honestly you haven’t been having a lot of time to eat either but if you admitted that to Robin she would force feed you some breakfast bar as she scolded you again for not thinking more of yourself.

“I love you for being kind but being as selfless as you are is more detrimental than it is helpful.” Her eyes were fixed on you, waiting for a reply.

“We’re here, children. Time for school.” Steve finally spoke. He turned to look at you too. “Robin is right (y/n). Sometimes being too nice is a problem. Obviously not a problem Robin has ever had to deal with.” Robin finally flicked Steve back and then got out of the car with you following behind her.

“I’ll see you at lunch, love.” She gave you a quick kiss as you guys walked to your respective classes.

Robin spent the rest of her day in class thinking of ways to make you understand how badly you needed to help yourself more than helping everyone else. She sat in her desk, picking at the edges of her paper, not listening to a single word the teacher was saying about some dead white guy or whatever it was he was saying. When the bell for lunch finally rang she was the first one out the door, the excitement of seeing you bubbling in her chest.

Whilst basically skipping to the cafeteria Robin saw Dustin frantically looking around in the halls. His eyes landed on her and he sprinted, dodging other students to reach her.

“It’s (y/n)!” Dustin was out of breath as he spoke those two words. Two words that made Robin’s blood run cold. Before she could demand for the boy to elaborate he grabbed her hand and pulled her so she’d follow him. Robin felt the sting of tears welling up in her eyes and she tried just blinking them away. You were okay, there was no way you couldn’t be okay.

Dustin stopped in front of a door with the words ‘Nurse’s Office’ written on a black plaque. Robin immediately opening the door, seeing you lay on the small leather bed in the corner of the room. She took long steps to be by your side.

“(y/n) what happened?” She put her hand on your cheek as she sat on the chair next to the bed.

You sat up, “I’m okay, I promise. I just sort of fell.” You smiled weakly at her.

“Fell? She fully passed out!” Dustin was standing near the door, looking just as panicked as he did when he had found Robin. When Robin looked at him and he saw how wide her eyes got he decided his work here was finished, making his way to go find Mike.

Your girlfriend looked at you again, eyebrows furrowed. She sat next to you on the bed and held your hand in hers, fingers interlaced. She looked at the ground trying to think of the words to say without sounding like she was angry.

“Love,” She squeezed your hand. “I’m begging you, for my heart, please think of yourself. You’re overworking yourself. I understand you want to help everyone as much as possible but who is helping you?” Robin was now fully looking at your eyes, the skin under them darker than usual with exhaustion. Trying hard to get you to understand the severity of spreading yourself so thin for people that probably wouldn’t do the same for you.

Her eyes were intense as they looked at you. You can’t imagine how scared she must have been when Dustin went to go get her. If the roles had been reversed you think you might’ve burst into tears on the spot. You felt so guilty for making her worry for you.

You brought your intertwined hands up to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m sorry, Robs. I’m sorry for stressing you out.” You looked down. “You’re right, maybe I’ve been taking on a little too much.”

“Maybe?” Robin let out a puff of air.

“Yeah I get it.” You giggled. “Well, I already agreed to work tonight.”

“Baby, I will personally go down there and tell them to fuck off, you’re not feeling well. They’ll definitely understand.” Robin placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “And if they don’t just quit, I’ll convince Keith to hire you. I’m very persuasive.”

You couldn’t pull your eyes away from your girlfriend, not understanding how you could be so fortunate. Your heart felt so full, like there was no room for anything, other than the love you felt for the girl whose hand was squeezing yours.

“I love you.” The words barely above a whisper, words you didn’t really know you had said out loud until you felt her head on your shoulder before hearing her say, “I love you too, dork."

#robin buckley #stranger things #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley x you #stranger things fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #lgbtq

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hottopichousewife · 10 months

Note

Someone asked your bf about tboy gender affirmation kink long post and he said we should defer to your experience. I haven't seen anyone else forward this to you, so I am taking the initiative to do the horny work what must be done myself!! Here's the original ask btw byeeee (your posts are awesome!!!)

"If you have the energy and/or the motivation is there any way to get a longer post about putting a Tboy in his gender affirming place like the tgirl gym post.. I need my gender aggressively and sexily affirmed smh"

(TW: all of this is really unrealistic)

Thank you so much for asking!!! I have been dying to write this!!!

All i can imagine is being in the womens room, and I feel like I'm truly myself, but I can't help but notice an obviously closested tboy sitting there waiting for everyone to leave. Once everyone else has taken their leave, I approach. I back him up into the wall asking "what's your name, sweet thing?" He gives me some dainty girl name, completely unsuiting for a man. He notices my untrained voice, and his guard drops a little. "I must ask, what's a boy like you doing in the womens room? Are you trying to get a peek at something?"

He shakes his head profusely, denying any and all accusations. But I'm not gonna be tricked by some perv, He just wants to get his fill. So I ask once again "whats your name?" This time with a much firmer tone. He sqeaks out a name much more fitting of a man like him. "There we go! Was that so hard?" He sheepishly agrees with me.

I notice him taking quick glances towards my chest. "Oh? Do you like what you see? Are you getting off on a girl dominating you?"

He looks away, hiding his face, clearly embarrassed getting caught.

"It's ok, I know what i can do to men like you. How about I show you a bit more since you are clearly in desperate need of what a real woman looks like"

I drop my towel, my girlcock, on full display. He can't help but look.

"Like what you see? I can see you're at the very least interested."

He nods his head, I can tell he's salivating over it

"Well? What are you waiting for? Don't you want a taste?"

He brings himself down to my girlcock and slowly starts sliding it into his desperate mouth.

I grab ahold of his head and start facefucking him, his desperate moans and whines leaking out every now and again "take it like a man" i say while ramming my girldick in and out.

As he brings me to completion, i quickly tear his head away and say, "No. I'm finishing inside you."

I bend him over with no resistance and begin fucking that aching boycunt of his, groaning on how he's doing such a good job and taking it like a man, finally I fill that desperate boypussy of his. I slowly slide out despite his protest and tell him, "You did such a good job, good boy, good job taking all my girlcock"

I help him clean up and send him on his way

#t4t nsft #t4t #t4t breeding #mtf dom #ftm sub #t4t dom #nsft

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anulithots · 8 months

Text

Okay, So I finished reading 'They Both Die at the End'

Spoiler warning I guess? The book doesn't have that many spoilers, per se, because it 'spoils' the end of the book, and I actually love it when books spoil themselves, because I will read for hours for the promise of something and the suspense to get there.

And this is one of those books that I stop and look off to the side for a few seconds while reading. Where I think I'm not affected by what is going on as my insides turn to static mush and I don't realize until later while I'm walking around outside while pondering and processing it.

Because - well, for a few reasons - it didn't have the most poetic prose, and I mean that as a compliment. Going into it I expected poetic musings about what it means to live, the sort of thing where the meanings are hidden under layers of subtext as they go on for paragraphs about metaphors, which is a style I tend to like.

But this book? It's simple at to-the-point. It summarizes and describes feelings with words and concepts but... as they are: simply. And - while I am not saying one style is better than the other, and I probably should get rid of my misbelief that not all writing has to be metaphorical and flowery to be impactful, even if that is what I prefer for my own writing - the fact that it is told simply, with the characters repeating phrases and ideas over and over again with new light and switching to second person and... just stating the fact that they are dying, they don't like it, and they wish they had more time - I think that is pretty special, to have a book where that is stated simply, as it is.

Also, the thing where Mateo can't leave his apartment to live his life even though the clock is dwindling is so painfully relatable. Somewhere child-thoughts me believe that the end of my childhood is the end of my 'good life' in a sense, I can't waste it, even though would often do so because of executive dysfunction and berate myself for it later. So the idea of regretting all the have-nots, definitely spoke to the remnants of... I want to say '13-14-ish me'.

And I want to talk about what I found most special here, more so than any prose style or character dynamics (although they were all amazingly, painfully, wholesome), is that the point of the book is to enjoy your life while you have it, to live each day like it's a lifetime, which the book says that Mateo and Rufus did.

And yet, they did it with mundane things.

For me - being that child that needed to live everything in one day otherwise it was wasted - (Even though my best is 'one or two' special things if I'm on a hyperfixation, and I can't control when that happens) to see that the idea of 'living your life' was full of walking around and talking and exploring without any particular goal and taking naps when needed and being okay with a 'waste of time' and none of it being the grand things people associate with a 'life without regrets', that means so so much.

Like, I can sleep for longer because I'm a night owl and I need it, I can walk around and ponder for a bit without needing to do anything productive (which they don't do anything very 'productive'. Why would you if it was your last day? And yet, so many people - when saying to live without regrets - say to do something productive. That's not a bad thing, but the others said that was the only thing that would get me to live without regrets, living in the future or trying to hard to live in the present.)

I can have conversations with my siblings or do little activities with them or spend time with my plants, or even spend some time online. They spend some time online! On their last day! And it's completely okay!

And the way they died was so so heartbreaking, because even though you knew they would die at the end, you never thought it would be like THAT.

#writeblr #they both die at the end #book reviews #booklr #books and reading #book review #books #morality #mortality #<--- that's what I meant #anuli's favorite stories #?#More of my favorite stories #Noorie's favorite stories #yes I stayed up until 4:30 am reading it #and yes I only went to bed because my dad woke up to get ready for work

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nightraiderwrites · 7 months

Text

The Happier Ending.

False enters home a little lost. Not physically- she has an excellent sense of direction- but emotionally. She should tie up all her loose ends, right?

The house is quiet when she walks in. Recipe books line the shelves, dirty dishes sit in the sink. A wooden pencil grip sits on the coffee table in their living room. Fading candles light the dying Christmas tree in the corner of their living room.

Pix, Pearl and Tango are asleep in their rooms. The living room is filled only with her breathing.

Pearl’s statues cast flickering shadows in the gasping light of candles. False watches as they dance across the walls, claiming the light as they prance. They almost look alive, as if trying to grasp life like it’s theirs.

Her comm sits in her inventory. The copper casing is beaten, and almost broken. Gears are soldered along the edge, and her name is carved in shaky handwriting. She is afraid to take it out.

False does it anyway.

“Hey, Tango,” she starts, hitting the record button. “Um, I know you're going to be mad, and I'm sorry. I can't do anything else, y'know?” She sucks in a breath. What is she doing? “God. God. What am I supposed to say?” I asked him to kill me first, before you. To- hang on.”

She hears footsteps coming up the stairs. “Tango?” she asks. “ Why're you up?” He freezes in place, and fumbles his communicator out. There’s a moment of pause as he types in the dark. “...Why are you up?” reads out the text to speech voice.

False laughs quietly. “Because I can be,” she replies. He raises an eyebrow. In the dark, the candles cast an ominous shadow over face, leaving his eyes to glow red in the dark. “Okay, okay,” she says. “I was going out to the Temple. I needed to take a moment to pray to the Light for guidance.”

“You're welcome to join me.” Tango looks down, typing on his comm. “I'm going to stay inside. I'll make you some more handwriting sheets,” says the robotic voice. “Oh!” False replies. “Thank you.”

He types again, and presses enter. “Good night, Falsie.” She smiles at him. “Good night, Tango.”

Tango walks away, climbing back down the stairs.

False sniffles, and turns back to her comm.

“Okay, you're gone. Yeah, um. I just want to keep you safe.” She exhales. “I can't do anything else. I love you. I love you. I love you. Don't-” Her hand is shaking. Her chest hurts. “Jeez, this is hard. This is difficult. I know this is selfish of me.” This is the most selfish thing she’s done.

“Please forgive me. Please don't hate me. I- ack. I wish I had more time. Um, keep yourself safe. Stay happy. I-” Her voice cracks, before her last word. “Bye.”

She hits stop. Breathes. Tries not to cry. False takes a handwriting sheet and flips it over, grasping a pencil shakily. Fr ToGgo, she writes, then crosses it out. Four TongO, she spells. Her scrawl is messy and all over the page. False closes her eyes, and remembers Gem’s hand correcting hers, Lizzie’s laugh, Pix’s kind words on the page, Pearl’s coffee and Tango’s smile.

She tries again. Fore toGnO. Somehow, she thinks it's wrong, but no one is here to correct her.

False’s boots crunch in the snow, [The Sun] warm in her grasp. She’s left her other swords at home, because [The Cog] no longer fits in her hand, [The Compass] no longer points North and [The Vengeance] has been put aside for something far more important.

She enters the Temple of Light, and bathes in the warmth. The mural seems a little dull, and the altar a little colder. Two candles sit on it, almost ready to be replaced.

False bows to the altar, and kneels. “Good evening, your majesty,” says the Soldier of the Sun. “Are you well?” The altar, of course, does not reply. But the candles seem to flicker in response, so False smiles, a little.

“Did I do the right thing?” she asks the candles. “Should I have asked?” No response. The candles keep swaying in the evening breeze. “Forgive me,” the Soldier says. “Forgive me. I know no other way to keep moving forward.”

She lays [The Sun] in front of her, parallel to the stairs, and presses her forehead to the floor. “Forgive me,” she says again. “Have mercy on my soul.”

The Soldier prays at the Temple for as long as she can.

Footsteps crunch in the snow behind her. The Soldier recognises the steady gait of her companion. She rises from her position, and turns to smile at him.

“Tango?” False says. He looks dazed, eyes out of focus. His mouth opens, and closes. She smiles softly at him. “You should go back to the house.” Tango’s head shakes violently. He does not move from out of the doorway.

“You’re welcome to pray with me, if you wish,” False says. Outside, the snow falls harder and harder. Wind howls, shaking the foundation of the Temple. “Tango?” He blinks, and steps shakily forward, trailing snow behind him.

Something is wrong. She can feel it. His movements are stiff, his steps stilted. The Soldier’s hand creeps towards [The Sun], lightly grasping the hilt. He keeps moving towards her. The Shield walks across the room, his movements unnatural and jerky.

Her hand is on her sword. She stands, slowly. His hands are empty. He walks until they are face to face.

The Soldier looks into The Shield’s eyes. They are blank, looking past her, into her past, maybe. His hand reaches up and covers hers.

“Tango?” False says. Her heart thunders in her ears, pulse going wild. He breathes shakily.

With speed and strength that False didn’t know Tango possessed, he rips [The Sun] from her grasp. She stumbles backwards onto the stairs as he points it at her chest. He walks forward, applying more and more pressure as she scrambles up the stairs.

“Tango-” she gasps out. She automatically goes for another sword, hoping to grasp [The Cog] or [The Compass], but her hands ghost over empty space. Right. They’re waiting at home.

The Shield that lied pushes [The Sun] into The Soldier’s sternum. Her hands flail to grip the blade, to try and stop it, but it only cuts her palms. It goes all the way in, chipping into the stairs behind her.

Blood pours from her mouth, trickling warmly down her chin and spilling from her hands. “Ha,” she says weakly. “Didn’t think it’d be you.” His eyes clear, and he releases the hilt. He kneels beside her, trying to frantically stop the bleeding.

She breathes hard, needles of pain stabbing into her lungs. False’s breathing becomes labored, oxygen struggling its way in and out of her lungs. Red stains the golden blade. “It was… foolish… of me to… trust…” she gasps out, leaning forward.

Her hands reach out, to the man with a look of horror on his face. His hands meet hers, instantly sharing their redness. Silent sobbing shakes his shoulders, sending earthquakes into False’s dying body. Tango’s mouth moves noiselessly, begging useless cries for help from the universe.

Blood splatters as she coughs. No longer able to support herself, she falls forward. False does not expect to be caught, but his arms are the protection between her and the cold stone floor.

Tears trickle from his cheeks as False looks up from his arms. She reaches a hand, still bleeding to wipe them away. Red stains his cheeks where her fingers brush skin.

False searches his face for some malice, some ill-will with slowly fading vision. The only things she finds are regret, sorrow and horror.

“It,” she starts, struggling for breath. “Ha, it wasn’t your fault, was it?” He shakes his head. His words are still stuck in his throat. “You were just… a weapon.” False breathes out, hand resting on the blade in her chest. “Like me.”

Tango mouths no, over and over. No words escape his lips. “It’s alright,” she gasps out. It’s warm, in his arms. It reminds her of better times, curled up on the couch together. “You could… never hurt me.”

His grip tightens on her hand. The edges of her lips curl up in a weak smile. “Maybe…” False starts. “In another life… another time…” Her breath slows down. It’s getting harder to breathe.

Tango’s hair is sharpening and blurring intermittently. She can see the bad dye job washing out, and the tears filling his eyes.

“I would… have… liked to see… you go home…” Someone stands over them, smiling at her. Her green eyes sparkle unnaturally. A man, with a rugged brown beard, holds a shield. He stands on her right. “Tango,” False whispers. Tears prick her eyes. It really hurts to breathe. “Tango, I’m scared.”

He rocks back and forth, in what is probably meant to be a soothing action. It only makes the sword in her chest swing. A chill pools in her chest. “Tango,” False manages. “It’s so cold. I…” There’s no feeling in her legs. Cold crawls up her body.

She smiles tiredly, soothingly, lovingly, one last time. “I’ll see you again, Tango…”

The Soldier of the Sun squeezes once, twice. Her light goes out before she can squeeze again.

Well, wasn’t that a twist?

[Falsesymmetry was slain by Tango using [The Sun]]

Haha, isn't that fun?

(Based off a game of mafia I played with my friends)

#nightraider writes #lifesmpmafia #falsesymmetry #silly goofy face #<3 #hope i dont get murdered

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bitchinfawkseh · 6 months

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 5

————————————————————————

Summary: Cheryl and Sam desperately try to find a way to save Dean after he gets permanent heart damage after being electrocuted by a monster.

W.C: 12 842

Warnings: religious trauma, religious guilt, sex dream, reference to drugs and domestic abuse (1).

[A/N] Warning for drug and domestic abuse references, also, there's a parallel between this chapter and s3 e10 (basically Dean has a sex dream about cheryl) Abigail and the guy beside her (Isaiah) belong to my friend! It was just a sweet Easter egg, check out their fic

Masterlist | AO3

"Nebraska? There's someone in Nebraska who can help him?" Cheryl asked in shock. Sam's knee brushed against Cheryl's as he spun his laptop around to show her the screen. Her face fell once she realized it wasn't a doctor or a licensed professional to help Dean, it was some faith healer. Now, she believed in all that stuff, but this was just pushing it. "Seriously? A faith healer - those are nothing but a scam, Sam." She said. Sam sighed and reached behind him to grab a journal he had sprawled across the bedspread. Her brows raised and her nails dug into her bare knees, one of her favourite things to wear to bed was a satin nightgown and a hoodie. And plus - Sam wasn't flirty with her like Dean was, there was no way this would get sexual at all.

"This is our Dad's journal, and there is nothing that gives us any info on how we can help Dean." Sam said as he passed the journal to her. Cheryl flipped through the pages, the writings in here - the drawings, this was pretty damn impressive. "We have to try this guy... just in case it does work." He added. Cheryl's lips flattened into a straight line and her dark brown eyes met his. She gave him a slight nod and looked back to the journal, "Okay." She barely had the chance to say anything else when there was a knock at the door.

Cheryl and Sam shared a nervous look before he slowly slid off the bed and went to check the peep hole. She slowly rose out of the bed and crossed her arms against her chest. "Who is it?" She asked. Sam didn't answer, he just swung the door open and ushered a sickly, pale looking Dean inside. "Why aren't you at the hospital!?" Cheryl and Sam questioned in unison. Dean smirked and gave Cheryl a slight nod in recognition as he moved along the wall into the room. "Checked myself out." He replied. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, she had to turn away from him - if she looked at him any longer she may punch him.

"Dean - you can't just leave -" Sam started as he watched Dean practically collapse onto the free bed. "Well, I just did." Dean interrupted. Cheryl glared down at him and all he did was flash her a grin. "You're an idiot, you should have stayed at the hospital. Do you have a death wish or something?" She scolded. Dean was often reckless when it came to his own well-being and it honestly concerned her - although she'd never say it out loud, she wished he cared about himself more so that she wouldn't have to. "I'm already dying, they can't do shit for me." Dean scoffed. She rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose before having an complete outburst. "We have something in Nebraska! Someone who can help you!" She yelled. Cheryl let out a little huff and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Before anyone could say anything, she turned on her heel and snatched up the lighter and cigarette pack on the desk by the door. "I need a smoke." She grumbled angrily as she slammed the door shut behind her.

"So... Nebraska?" Dean asked with a slight raise of his brow. Sam glanced over and nodded, he muttered a "yeah" and took a seat on the bed across from Dean. They were silent again for a bit, Dean stared at the door waiting for Cheryl's return and Sam picked through their dad's journal. "Do you think Cheryl likes me?" Dean asked quietly. Sam let out a chuckle and he raised his brows, was it even a question that needed to be answered? "No, dude. She hates you." He laughed. Dean frowned and his eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Well, how do I make her like me?"

Sam shrugged and pursed his lips together, "I dunno, just... give her some time to get to know you. It's only been two months, dude."

Cheryl came back 10 minutes later and headed straight to the bathroom to wash her hands. She set a water bottle on the nightstand by Dean's bed and stared down at him, "Sit up." She ordered.

"What?"

"Sit up!" She hissed. Dean grumbled and sat up on his elbows, he expected her to do anything but this. She fluffed up his pillow and pulled the blankets up over him. "Should get you some garlic to eat, it's good for your heart." She mumbled as she gently placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back down. Dean flushed and swallowed hard, "Huh?" Dean glanced over at Sam nervously and all he had was a smug smile on his face. Dean was being babied by a woman who hates him.

She smoothed the covers over his chest and sighed deeply, "I'll get you some garlic cloves tomorrow, and you are eating them whether you like it or not."

Dean chewed on his lip and watched her intently, "Uh, what does it do?" He asked. She sat down on the bed across from him and cocked a brow. "Well, it lowers blood pressure, regulates cholesterol, prevents cell damage," She gestured towards him. "Are you comfortable?" Dean nodded and she pursed her lips together, her phone started buzzing on the bedside table. "Excuse me, I have to take this." She said urgently as she snatched up the phone and rushed to the bathroom.

She flipped the phone open and turned on the tap to drown out their conversation. "Carlos! Hi." Cheryl beamed. Carlos was the one person who has been there for her, always, he was the one who helped her learn English when she first came to the States - and he was even one of her chambelanes at her quinceanera. "Hey, Cherry." He grunted. Her face fell and she swallowed hard, he was upset - she could tell by the sound of his voice. "How is Marisol?" Cheryl asked quietly.

"Not good, she's gettin' real bad, Cherry." He whispered, his voice hoarse as if he was trying not to cry. Marisol - Carlos' wife - was probably the sweetest woman she has ever met and she had pancreatic cancer. In situations like this, Cheryl wondered if there even was a God out there - why would he allow such horrible things happen to such good people?

Cheryl sat on the edge of the tub and frowned, "I'm so sorry, cariño." She whispered. Carlos chuckled tearfully and sniffled which just made her heart drop. It pained her to see her friends suffer this much. "She keeps askin' me to paint her nails a different colour every day 'cause..." He trailed off. Because she can't do it herself anymore. She smiled a little bit, "Yeah? You better be painting her nails, Carlos."

"Of course I am, what kind of husband do you think I am?" He chuckled. Cheryl grinned fondly, he's always been a good husband.

Cheryl shoved her phone into her pocket and shut off the tap before opening the door. Sam noticed the tears in her eyes and his face fell, "Are you okay?" He asked softly. Cheryl pushed past him and groaned which caught Dean's attention. "Woah, what's wrong with you?" Dean questioned with a raised brow. Cheryl collapsed into the free bed and let out a deep sigh, why are these boys so nosy?

"Do you think she's going to get better?" Cheryl asked innocently. She doesn't even know why she asked that, she knew the answer. They discovered her cancer at stage 4, and with the type of cancer it was, there wasn't much they could do. Carlos sighed. "No. That's why I called you... we're moving her into end of life care."

"Hospice?" She breathed out. Her heart felt like this deadweight in her chest and tears welled in her eyes. Marisol didn't deserve to go out like this, she should have been eighty - not thirty - and have gone peacefully instead of in pain. "Yeah, I'll - I'll call you when it happens." She nodded slowly and swallowed the lump in her throat, "Okay, yeah," There was a soft knock on the door and she glanced up, probably Sam considering Dean was... sick. "Look, I gotta go. I'm sorry, love you."

"No worries, love you, bye."

It only took a few minutes for every one to wind down and for the lights to go out. Sam and Cheryl stuck to their respective sides of the bed, never touching each other once throughout the night.

"Just... not now. Please." She whispered. Cheryl sighed and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling as she debated whether or not to tell them about this. "Sam and I can share a bed tonight, since Dean is a sick little boy and deserves a bed to himself." She teased all of the sudden. Dean's eyes widened and he looked between Cheryl and Sam, no way Sammy got to share a bed with her. Cheryl gestured toward Sam and clasped her hands together in her lap. "If you're comfortable of course, I can go get another room." She added.

"Or - you know, crazy concept - but you and I could share a bed?" Dean suggested with a smirk. Cheryl shot him a glare and her nose wrinkled in disgust. "No." She said bluntly. Cheryl stared up at Sam expectantly, waiting for his answer. He nodded and shrugged, "Yeah, I don't have an issue with it." He said.

The rumbling of her bike died down as she pulled the keys out of the ignition. Cheryl was sort of thankful she wasn't in the Impala to hear Dean's whining about the faith healer. They didn't tell him anything about it until they arrived, otherwise Dean wouldn't have been cooperative when it came to coming here.

Dean shoved Sam off of him and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "I got it." He grumbled angrily under his breath. Cheryl sauntered over to the two of them and chuckled softly, "That's a shame, I was about to offer you my arm." Dean's brows shot up and he glanced over at her with wide eyes. Was she being serious? "Wait, really?"

She snorted and smirked, "No." His face fell and Sam let out a chuckle, shaking his head at their banter.

Soft rain fell from the sky and pattered against the ground and their coats, almost everyone had an umbrella as they headed into the tent. Except for them of course. "What? Do they expect us to believe that this is real?" Dean scoffed. Cheryl shot him a look and crossed her arms against her chest, she didn't believe in any of this stuff either but it didn't mean that they got to act like they are better than the people who do believe in it. "Be respectful, Dean." She hissed. Dean's brows shot up and he scoffed in disbelief, he subconsciously leaned into Sam. It felt weird feeling constantly weak and tired, he's never been like this before. "I thought you guys said we were going to see a doctor."

"I believe I said specialist. Look, Dean, this guy is supposed to be the real deal." Sam said. Cheryl reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a little crumbled plastic bag with a single head of garlic inside. She was being serious when she told Dean that she'd be making him eat garlic cloves, it is good for him.

"I can't believe you brought me out here to some guy that heals people out of a tent." Dean muttered. Cheryl peeled the skin off the garlic head and passed him one of the cloves. He wrinkled his nose and turned his head away, Cheryl's eyes sharpened and she continued to hold it up. "Eat it." She demanded. He sighed deeply and plucked it from her fingers, popping it in his mouth and cringing as he started to chew it. How in the hell was it spicy? "Hey, you better not spit it out." Cheryl warned. Dean sucked in a breath and tried to ignore the slight tears welling in his eyes. "I mean, come on. A faith healer?" He asked.

"Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean." Sam sighed deeply. Cheryl tucked the rest of the garlic cloves back into the plastic bag and shoved it back into her coat pocket. "You know what I got faith in? Reality. Knowing what's really going on." Dean shot back. Sam frowned and his brows knitted together, his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "How can you be a skeptic? With the things we see every day? How do you know that good isn't out there too?" He asked. Cheryl's lips thinned into a straight line and she glanced up at Dean, her eyes softening ever so slightly as she watched Dean scoff and look at the ground. "Because I've seen what evil does to good people." Dean answered simply. Her lips curved down into a frown and she quickly glanced away before Dean could catch her staring and tease her for it again. Cheryl understood both of the boys perspectives, Dean’s... it resonated with her, and not for the reasons he may think.

Cheryl's eyes narrowed and she grit her teeth, she was currently fighting the urge to start a fight with Dean. What did he mean by her being "Sam's friend," she was both of their friends - she just enjoyed teasing Dean more than she did Sam. As an older woman came up behind Layla, presumably her mother, Cheryl cleared her throat and excused herself. She'll be damned if she let Dean's words get to her.

A pretty young blonde woman overheard their conversation and turned to face them, the soft rain pittering against her umbrella. "Maybe God works in mysterious ways." She quipped up, a sweet smile on her face. Dean smirked and looked her up and down, quite obviously checking her out. "Maybe he does, I think you just turned me around on the subject." He mused. Cheryl and Sam both rolled their eyes practically in unison, here he goes again. The blonde smiled again and nodded slowly, "I'm sure." She said.

"I'm Dean," He gestured towards the two behind him and smiled charmingly. "This is Sam and Cheryl." Cheryl gave her a small wave and a half smile as Dean outstretched his hand toward the woman for her to shake. "Layla," She replied, taking his hand. "So, if you're not a believer, then why are you here?" Layla asked as she cocked her head to the side. Dean chuckled and shook his head, he always did that when he found something funny. "Well, my brother and his friend here believes enough for the three of us."

Dean's brows shot up and he glanced over at Sam, "What's got her panties up in a bunch?" He asked. Sam sighed deeply and shouldered his way into the tent, minding the flap and the rows of chairs that were immediately in the way. "Probably hurt her feelings." Sam stated as if it were obvious. Dean laughed, he thought it was a joke at first until Sam didn't laugh with him. His face fell and they filed into the row of seats up front that Cheryl secured for them. "Seriously?" He whispered. Sam nodded and sat down next to Cheryl who paid no mind to Dean. He swallowed hard and stared at her for a long while before focusing his attention up at the front.

Cheryl crossed one leg over the other and stared blankly up at the front, with the way she was scrunching her lips together there was no doubt in her mind that she looked like a complete bitch right now. Someone to her left gently tapped her arm and Cheryl jerked her head over into their direction. She cocked a brow as she realized it was a cute, round faced, red-headed young woman. "Are you okay?" She whispered. Cheryl’s brows furrowed in confusion and she leaned toward the woman. "Pardon me?" Cheryl asked. The woman smiled and pushed her glasses up with her middle finger. "You just seem upset is all, I'm Abigail." She introduced herself and extended a hand for Cheryl to shake. Cheryl returned her smile half heartedly, muttering her own name back quietly and shook her hand, it wouldn't hurt to chat before the service began.

Cheryl pointed to the brothers who were beside her and leaned into Abigail. "See the sick fucking idiot over there? Yeah, he basically said we aren't friends even though we've been on the road together for what? Two months now and I've seen his stupid face every day. He said I was just his brother's friend." Cheryl whispered angrily. Abigail's eyes widened and she gasped, her gaze flitted between the boys for a moment. "That is rude." She commented.

"I know." Cheryl groaned with an eye roll. She crossed her arms against her chest and slumped back in the uncomfortable chair. "Might as well spit in my face." Cheryl added, a little louder this time. She wanted Dean to hear them.

A taller man spoke up from beside Abigail, dark circles hung from his eyes and he had shaggy brown hair. "Yeah, dude it's red." He spoke up. Dean's brows knitted together in confusion and he clicked his tongue before looking away and slumping back in his chair. "Alright, red. Got it." Dean muttered. Sam discreetly nudged Dean with his elbow and snickered, "Told you that you hurt her feelings." He whispered. Dean jerked away from his touch and crossed his arms against his chest as all conversations around them seemed to die down. "Yeah, yeah..."

Sam and Dean both glanced over at the girls, now Cheryl wasn't one to start bantering with a stranger - this must be important. She shot Dean a glare and shrugged, "I would introduce you to him, Abigail. But he said we aren't friends so I don't see the point." She said plainly. Dean's eyes narrowed and Sam let out a snort, quickly concealing his mouth with his hand and covering it up by clearing his throat. "Didn't know you considered us friends since you never tell me anything about you." Dean snapped. Cheryl's eyes widened and she scrunched her lips together, he did not just go there. "Don't ask such invasive questions." She retorted. Dean scoffed and raised his brows in disbelief, "Asking you what your favorite colour is, is invasive?"

"It is." She shot back. Cheryl glanced back at Abigail who nodded in agreement, the curly stray strands of her hair falling into her face. "It is," Abigail repeated. She gestured towards Cheryl's red leather jacket and her chipped ruby nail polish. "Her favorite colour is obviously red. Why should you even have to ask?" She flashed the boys a smile as she finished off. Cheryl let out a little chuckle and pointed towards Abigail, "Isn't she just magical? She doesn't even know me but she knows my favorite colour," Cheryl wrinkled her nose. "Based on observation."

An older man with big glasses came onto stage, he looked like one of those typical guys who you'd always see at Sunday service. "Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?" He began. The crowd murmured in agreement and Cheryl tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Now it was time to be respectful and quiet, it cost nothing to show respect for others. "Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act." Roy frowned. Cheryl swallowed hard and let out a shaky sigh, choosing to stare down at her feet instead. These types of things made her feel all ill and shaky, they made her feel like she wasn't a good Catholic - or worse, that she was going to go to Hell because God doesn't love her.

"But I tell you, God is watching." Roy continued. The crowd continued to whisper and mummer, finally an obvious "Yes he is." Rippled through the rows of people. A wave of nausea washed over her and she clutched her jacket, unknowingly she started to bounce her leg. "And he punishes the corrupt and rewards the good." He said. The crowd cheered and clapped as they agreed with his statement. Cheryl squeezed her eyes shut and slowly shook her head, "No he doesn't." She mumbled quietly in disbelief under her breath.

Things just seemed to keep moving, Roy was saying things but they weren't fully registering in her brain. "It is the Lord who does the healing here friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts." He said. Dean leaned towards Cheryl and Sam and snorted, "Yeah, and into their wallets."

"You think so, young man?" Roy said, looking in the general direction of them. Dean's face fell and his lips thinned into a straight line, all eyes were on him now and the crowd was completely silent. This was awkward. "Sorry."

"No, no. Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, son, we got real sharp ears." Roy chuckled. Cheryl smiled a little bit as the crowd laughed and glanced over at Dean.

"I'm not exactly a believer." Dean chuckled nervously as Roy gently touched his arm. Roy smiled, if it weren't for the glasses and the fact that he was blind, Dean would've swore that he was looking at him. "You will be, son. You will be," He said. "Pray with me friends!" Roy exclaimed as he slowly raised a hand into the air. The crowd lifted their hands into the air, their hands conjoined by one another as they mummered prayers. Cheryl and Sam glanced around, seeming to be the odd ones out when it came to this.

Dean flushed a bit in embarrassment and looked anywhere but the stage. He hadn't really expected to be called out like that, especially by the host of the whole event. "What's your name, son?" He asked. Dean cleared his throat and rubbed his thigh, hesitating for a moment before he answered. "Dean."

"Well, Dean. I want you to come up here with me." Roy said. Cheryl and Sam's eyes widened and they both glanced over at Dean who refused his offer. Sue Ann moved to the centre stage near the steps that led up to it, a soft smile on her face. "Dean, what are you doing? Go!" Sam urged. Dean let out a sigh and glanced over to Cheryl who motioned for him to go up. "You've come to be healed, haven't cha?" Dean blinked and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, he didn't really know what to say. "I mean, yes - but..." The crowd clapped and made some encouraging hoots, they all believed that he should go up. The Lord picked him after all.

"Maybe - maybe you should pick someone else." Dean called out. Sam's brows furrowed and he looked Dean up and down as if he was insane. Roy chuckled, "I didn't pick you, the Lord did." He replied. Cheryl glanced between the stage and Dean, "Go! Dean, please." She said, her voice dipping as she pleaded. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his brows furrowed a bit, it only took a second for him to make a decision and rise out of his seat.

Roy placed a hand on Dean's arm, then to the side of his head. Cheryl held her breath and she perked up in her seat as Dean slowly sunk to his knees and his eyes glazed over. Suddenly, he wobbled and fell back onto the stage. Sam was quick to jump from his chair, as was Cheryl as the crowd clapped and cheered. "Dean!" Sam yelled as he rushed to his side and gripped the front of his hoodie just as Cheryl knelt down beside them. Dean's eyes flew open and he gasped as he came to, "Say something!" Sam begged. His eyes briefly settled on this tall, pasty white figure behind Roy - he was in a suit and his snowy hair was combed back. He didn't look... human. And as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared. "What the hell -" He started but Cheryl quickly and unsuspectedly wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "Thank God you're okay." She said, her voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. Dean's eyes widened and he nervously glanced up at Sam who only shrugged before Dean loosely wrapped his arms around her waist, returning her hug.

Dean sat on the uncomfortable cot in the doctor's office, the sound of a crinkling plastic sheet anytime he moved filled the air. "So you really feel okay?" Sam asked. Dean sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, he swore - if another person asked if he was okay he was going to punch them. "Yes." He growled under his breath. The doctor skimmed through his file and tapped the back of the clipboard. "Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still it's strange it does happen." He said. Cheryl nibbled on her bottom lip and glanced over at Dean for a moment, either Roy was the real deal or the garlic worked a little too well. "What do you mean, strange?" Dean asked. Sam and Cheryl shared a knowing look and she crossed her arms against her chest before turning her attention back to Dean's doctor. "Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack." He explained.

"Wow, that's awful." Cheryl murmured under her breath. Dean nodded towards the doctor as he was leaving the room, "Thanks Doc."

"No problem."

"That's odd." Dean commented as he shrugged his coat on. Sam sighed and scrunched his lips up, he wanted to just believe that this was a miracle - nothing more. "Look, Dean, do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?" Sam said. Dean hopped off the cot and made his move towards the door, he held it open for Cheryl after he and Sam walked through. "Gracias." She smiled and he nodded slightly in response.

"Because I've got this feeling." Dean answered.

"What feeling?" Cheryl asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, he didn't want to seem like a freak or crazy. It didn't even fully make sense to him - he didn't expect Cheryl to understand (Sammy probably would.) "When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, Sam, it was a spirit." He finally said. Cheryl's heart dropped and there was a gnawing feeling in her stomach. If this spirit healed Dean - then maybe they could unheal him.

Dean swerved down the gravel road leading up to Roy and Sue Ann's house. He tapped the steering wheel with his pointer and glanced over at Cheryl for a split second. She was staring out the window, like she has been for the past twenty minutes. She hasn't said a word to him this entire ride - he assumed that they were good now because she hugged him and all that. But apparently not.

"But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately." Sam said. He glanced over at Cheryl momentarily, he hadn't exactly told her about the headaches, the visions - the dreams. But she was smart and there was no doubt in his mind that she wasn't catching on. Dean rolled his eyes and his lips thinned into a straight line, an unamused look painted across his face. "Well, excuse me, psychic wonder. But you're just gonna need a little faith on this one. Sam, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this."

Sam sighed, "So, what do you want to do then?"

"You're gonna check out the heart attack guy, me and Cher are gonna go see the reverend."

"Sorry for the shit that happened yesterday." Dean said quietly. Cheryl sighed deeply and her head fell back into the seat. "It's fine. I don't exactly blame you for thinking we aren't friends. I don't tell you anything." She muttered. Dean's lips thinned into a straight line and he opened his mouth to say something and hesitated. He didn't want to force her to open up to him - she owed him nothing. "My, uh, mom - when I was a kid, she died in a fire. I carried Sammy out of the house while my dad tried to save her." He said quietly, his voice was strained like it physically pained him to talk about this. Cheryl frowned and swallowed hard, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced back at Dean, her gaze softening. "That sucks, I'm sorry."

"It is what it is." He replied bluntly. Maybe if his dad finds the damn thing that killed her then things will finally be at peace.

Everything Dean initially thought about Cheryl was wrong, she wasn't rude or abrasive, arrogant or bitchy. She was just... Cheryl, and she wasn't ready to let people in, and now, Dean understood that.

Dean shifted into park and pulled the keys out of the ignition, he was about to climb out of the car when she sucked in a sharp breath. Dean looked up, only to see that she was already staring at him. "My dad... he - he wasn't really around growing up, I mean - he was, but -... he was always either on coke or some other street drug." Cheryl shyly looked away and rubbed her clammy hands on her jeans. "So, he was usually in some sort of drugged out coma or beating on my mom." She flashed him an uneasy smile and let out a little chuckle. "Looks like we both had shit childhoods."

Dean blinked. "Yeah, no kidding."

Dean swallowed hard and tapped his knees, they hadn't left the Impala quite yet. He glanced over at her and jerked his head towards the house, "You ready?" He asked. Cheryl shook her head and her lips thinned into a straight line. "No, you go ahead. Can't deal with any more faith stuff right now. I'll wait here." She said. When they first left together, she fully intended to go into the reverend's house with Dean - but she just didn't have the energy anymore. He nodded slowly in understanding and Cheryl crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll tell Sam to meet us at the McDonald's, I want some chicken nuggets." She muttered. Dean snorted and grinned as he looked her up and down. "You want chicken nuggets?" He asked. Even Dean couldn't deny that chicken nuggets were good, especially after a long day. "Yeah, so hurry up." She said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Dean sat down on a plush couch with little floral decals on the fabric, and of course, it smelt like old people. Roy sat directly across from Dean on a matching sofa and Sue Ann poured them each a glass of water. Dean smiled a bit and nodded in thanks, "I feel great. Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened." He said.

"A miracle is what happened. Well, miracles come so often around Roy." Sue Ann spoke up. Dean spared her a quick glance and leaned toward Roy, his hands clasped together and resting on his knees. "When did it start? The miracles?"

"Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.' I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone." Roy said. He took off his glasses, revealing his white eyes, "If it weren't for my eyes, no one would believe me." He added.

"And you could suddenly heal people afterward?" Dean confirmed. Roy sucked in a breath and slowly nodded as he put his glasses back on. "Yes, God blessed me in many ways." Well, that was a load of bull.

Dean swallowed hard and his lips thinned into a straight line, he didn't believe Roy one bit. "Can I ask one more question?" He asked politely. He knew Cheryl would be glad that he was so nice and "respectful," even though she wasn't here, he'd rather not risk an earful about manners. Roy nodded and his lips quirked up into a smile, "Of course you can."

Dean hesitated for a moment and his eyes darted around as if he was trying to "dance around" the question. "Why me? Why did you choose to save me out of all of the other sick people?"

"Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest." Roy answered simply.

"What did you see in my heart?"

"A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished."

Dean slammed the car door shut as he climbed into the driver's seat, startling Cheryl. "We're goin' back to the motel." He said bluntly. Cheryl pouted her lips together and her brows furrowed, whatever happened in there did not leave him in a good mood. "But chicken nuggets..." She trailed off. Dean sighed deeply and checked over his shoulder, placing his hand on the back of Cheryl's seat as he spun out of the parking spot. Her eyes widened and she flushed, butterflies started to flutter in her stomach. "We can go through the drive-thru or something, tell Sam to meet us at the room." He replied. Cheryl swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, he was in a... mood. It was always obvious when Dean was upset about something, he wasn't very good at hiding it. "What's got you upset?" She asked.

"Nothing."

Cheryl scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Winchester." Her voice was laced with disbelief and slight sarcasm. They both knew that she knew that he was a load of bullshit.

Dean threw his keys onto his bed and shrugged off his coat just as Cheryl shoved a chicken nugget into her mouth. Dean bought at least twenty chicken nuggets on the condition that she would share - which she did... for the most part. Sam - who was sitting at a round table with his laptop glanced up as they came in. "What'd you find out?" Dean asked Sam as he popped a nugget in his mouth. Sam frowned and his eyes met Cheryl's and her heart dropped. Whatever this was, it wasn't good. "I'm sorry..." He whispered. Dean cocked a brow and obnoxiously (with his mouth closed, of course) chewed and tossed his coat onto the bed. "Sorry about what?" He questioned as he approached Sam. Cheryl set the bag full of food on the nightstand and came up behind Dean, shoving her hands into her back pockets. "Sam?" She said when he didn't say anything.

Sam sighed deeply and gave Dean that infamous puppy dog look, "Marshall Hall died at 4:17."

Cheryl's eyes widened and her arms dropped to her sides, she murmured a string of cuss words in Spanish. Dean's lips parted and he swallowed hard, "The exact time I was healed." He whispered.

"Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits. Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time." Sam said, pointing to his laptop. Cheryl stepped forward and leaned down over Sam's shoulder, squinting as she read over what was on the screen. "So someone is healed of cancer - and then someone else dies of cancer?" Dean confirmed.

"Looks like it..." Cheryl sighed.

"Legrange is trading one life for another - I don't know how, but he is." Sam added. Dean palmed his face and rubbed it, slowly turning his back to the pair as his mind raced. His eyes narrowed and he spun around to face them, "Wait, wait, wait - so Marshall Hall died to save me?" He asked. Cheryl's face fell and her posture straightened, she couldn't even imagine the guilt he must be feeling right now - "Dean," She started gently. Sam's brows furrowed and he frowned, his nose slightly scrunching as his emotions appeared clear as day. "The guy probably would have died anyway and someone else would've been healed." He interrupted.

Dean slowly shook his head, his lips curling in disappointment and his jaw flexed. "You should have never brought me here." He said bluntly. Cheryl frowned and she fiddled with her fingers, twisting and pulling and pinching. "Sam was just trying to save your life, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Now some guy is dead because of me." He shot back.

"We didn't know." Sam said quietly.

Cheryl's lips scrunched to one side and she crossed her arms, "How is Roy doing all this, though? Trading one life for another." She asked.

"Oh, he's not. Someone else is doing it for him." Dean quickly answered, his green eyes briefly meeting hers. Her brows furrowed in confusion and when she didn't look away, Dean averted his gaze. "What do you mean?" Sam asked. Dean blinked rapidly and a muscle in his jaw flexed, he didn't want to believe it - but all indicators were pointing to yes. "The old man on the stage, I didn't wanna believe it but..." He trailed off. Cheryl's brows shot up and she gestured her hands for him to continue. "But what?"

"There's only one thing that can give and take life like that. We're dealing with a reaper."

Cheryl sighed and parted her legs as she attempted to crack her back on the chair while listening to Sam and Dean’s chatting. "You really think it's the Grim Reaper - you know, the angel of death, take your soul?" Sam asked, his brows raising. Dean opened his mouth to respond and Cheryl's knee bumped against his. A shiver went up his spine and there was this odd warm feeling in his stomach - and it disappeared as soon as she mumbled an apology and moved away. Cheryl then shrugged, "There are many Reapers from different cultures. Not just one - like in my culture we call her Santa Muerte."

"Your reaper is a chick?" Dean asked.

She rolled her eyes and sighed deeply, "In a sense, yes."

Sam sucked in a breath, "But you said you saw a dude in a suit."

"What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?....You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you couldn't." Dean snorted. Cheryl grinned a bit and fixed her hair into a low ponytail. She preferred to have it loose and natural most of the time but right now it was just an inconvenience. She glanced over at Sam and adjusted the strap of her low-cut tank top. "I think Dean is right, what else would it be?"

"That cross." He murmured under his breath. Cheryl cocked a brow and shot Dean a look only to see he was already staring at her. His eyes were settled on her chest, if there was a God out there, she was certainly blessed.

Cheryl cleared her throat and Dean flushed and his eyes widened as if he was a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "What?" Sam, who had no idea what was going on, just answered his question. "There was a cross in the church, I had seen it before but I couldn't remember where until," He flipped through some papers on the table and then held up a card. Dean leaned in and plucked it from his hand, "A tarot?" He questioned.

Sam nodded, "It makes sense. A tarot dates back to the early christian era right, when some priests were still using magic? And a few of them veered into the dark stuff? Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?"

"So you're saying that Roy binded a reaper using magic?" Cheryl asked with a cocked brow. Dean passed her the card and she inspected it thoroughly, they reminded her of the card game that her mother would always play with her aunts and uncles - Lotería. "If he is, he's riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white." Sam snorted.

Now this is where Dean liked to spend his time, his head between the legs of a gorgeous woman. Her short mini skirt was bunched up at her hips, and Dean's tongue delved in her folds and her glistening pussy. God, he would eat pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he could.

Dean took his empty mug to the sink and rinsed it, "Okay, then we stop Roy." He called back over the running water. Cheryl cocked a brow and her and Sam both side-eyed each other. "How?" She spoke up. He sighed and turned, he leaned against the countertop and crossed his arms against his chest. "You know how." He said simply. Sam's brows shot up and he scoffed in disbelief, "Dude, we're not gonna kill Roy."

Dean rolled his eyes, "The guy is playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book." Cheryl wrinkled her nose and her lips curved in disgust, she couldn't even believe that he would suggest something like that - killing a man. A human man. "We are not going to kill him, we are no better than he is at that point." She said.

"Got any bright ideas then, smartie pants?" Dean smirked, looking her up and down. Cheryl grinned back, she closed her eyes and scrunched her nose at him. "Yes, it entails shutting the hell up and stop suggesting murder." She sneered. Sam snorted and Dean simply rolled his eyes, maybe they shouldn't murder the guy but how else were they supposed to stop him? "If Roy's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta...figure out what it is. And how to break it." Sam said. Cheryl nodded in agreement and patted him on the back as praise. "Right again, Sam."

He suckled at the clit, the immediate moans of gratification it brought out of this girl nearly made him cum right there. "Shit, baby. You taste good." He purred, his voice muffled by a face full of cunt. Her fingers threaded through his hair and her hips jutted into his face. Dean grinned and his grip on her thighs tightened, he was sure that his hands may cramp later.

Her body tensed and she arched her back into him as she came all over his face. Lapping up all of her juices gratefully, Dean moved up to check out the post-orgasm afterglow that every chick always had. Dean grinned and admired how Cheryl's hair stuck to her forehead from sweat. Then, their lips met in a passionate and intimate kiss.

Dean's eyes flew open as Cheryl smacked his bare leg and he was immediately aware of the fact that he had a raging hard on and he was wearing boxer briefs. She grinned and cocked a brow, tilting her head "Nice ass, Winchester." She teased. Thank God that he was on his stomach - this whole situation was just utterly humiliating. He had a sex dream about Cheryl, woke up with a boner, and he wasn't wearing anything but underwear and a t-shirt. Dean thought she was hot, sure - he would totally fuck her given the chance. But he didn't have feelings for her - that would be stupid. If anything he just dreamed of the possibility of having a friends with benefits situation.

Dean waited about 10 minutes before reluctantly going to shower and to rub one out. Sammy must have come back from his morning jog (which he does every morning now to deal with the nightmares) because he heard a loud annoyed sigh outside the door as he stepped out of the shower. "Calm your tits, pretty boy. I'll be out in a damn sec." Dean called out, a wide grin on his face. There was some more incoherent grumbling and Dean chuckled and shook his head. He wiped the steam off the mirror and ran a hand through his messy and unkempt hair. He had to be quick with getting dressed and presentable if he didn't want to hear Sammy's bitching.

He tugged the sheets up to cover himself and forced a smirk on his face. "Back at cha, sweetheart." He replied. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his messy hair. He wasn't gonna move off of his stomach, he felt like a horny teenager again, having sex dreams over a hot woman in his vicinity. Cheryl set her coat down onto the bed and crossed her arms against her chest. "You gonna get up? We have shit to do." She asked. Dean swallowed hard and his mind blanked, shit, he slowly shook his head and relaxed back into the mattress and pillows. "Nah, gimme a minute," He said. His brows raised and he smiled hopefully, "Can you get some coffee, though?" Cheryl sighed and then nodded slowly, she pulled on her leather jacket and fixed her hair so it wasn't caught. "Better be ready when I get back." She warned.

"I will be, and make sure it's bl-"

"Black. I know." Cheryl interrupted as she made her way towards the door. Dean's lips thinned and then he called out a thanks as she left. Hopefully this damn woody would go away on its own.

Just as Dean came out of the bathroom, Cheryl was back with coffees. She passed Sam one and tucked some of her hair behind her ear as she pulled Dean's coffee out of the cup holder. "What took you so long?" Dean asked as he took a sip. He wrinkled his nose and his mouth curved in distaste as a sickeningly sweet liquid hit his tongue. "Oh, shit. Sorry. That's mine." Cheryl quickly passed him the cup in her hands and took back the one he had. Dean coughed and his brows furrowed as he chuckled, "Do you even like coffee at this point? That's like... pure sugar."

"Oh my God, shut up." She shot back with an eye roll. Sam set his cup down on the table and carefully walked past Cheryl and Dean. Unfortunately, she got a whiff of his post workout smell. Cheryl gagged and stepped away, nearly bumping into Dean. She didn't want to be rude, so she didn't say anything until the bathroom door was shut and locked. "Does he normally stink that bad?" She asked, glancing up at Dean. His lips quirked up into a smirk and he gulped back some black coffee this time. "Oh, yeah."

Cheryl stepped out of the Impala, soft rain pittering against her coat. She didn't mind riding in the backseat, in fact, she preferred it because half of the time Sam and Dean would forget that she's there and wouldn't talk to her.

Cheryl sat down on the edge of Dean's bed and her finger circled the rim of her cup. "So, we're going to today's service and gonna snoop around?" She asked. Dean nodded and sat down next to her, he shrugged and his lips thinned. "Pretty much, yeah." He answered. Cheryl frowned and sighed deeply, she really didn't want to do this. "I feel bad, Roy seems so... nice. Do you really think it's him?" She glanced up at Dean, Roy didn't seem like a monster - or one of those guys who was just a massive bigot. "Yeah, who else would it be?"

Cheryl shrugged and looked away, "I don't know, maybe some weirdo that's obsessed with God or something. I just don't think that it's Roy." She said. Cheryl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and swallowed hard. "I went to church all the time growing up, and guys like Roy - they'd never even hurt a fly. He's the type to teach Sunday school - not that we do that, but still. There were also people who claimed that they were good, but they weren't. We should watch for other people, suspicious people." Cheryl said. Dean nodded slowly and he rubbed his thigh, she could be right. It might be someone else doing it for Roy, although he didn't understand why she cared so much - he'd give her the benefit of the doubt. "We'll look into it." He promised.

Sam and Cheryl snuck around the house, waiting near a hidden spot by the porch for Sue Ann and Roy to pass. They were quick to make their move, climbing into an open window and beginning to search the house. Cheryl pointed to a book on the shelf that Sam was checking out, "That one doesn't have dust." She whispered. He pulled the heavy encyclopedia off of the shelf and realized that there was a much smaller book hidden behind it. The two of them shared a look and Sam started to flip through it, there was an image of a reaper - the same cross Sam saw, and then articles. Cheryl's face fell when she realized that they were targeting people who weren't "holy." The man who died for Dean was an openly gay teacher, and the woman who recently died was an abortion rights advocate. "This is fucked up." Cheryl whispered under her breath. Sam frowned and nodded in agreement, targeting a gay man and a pro-choice woman was distasteful. Then, there was a clipping about Wright - the man who handed out flyers about Roy being a fraud. "We gotta find him." Sam said urgently as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Dean and update him.

"If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book." Sam said. Cheryl glanced up at him, her face devoid of emotion - she was good at hiding what she was feeling, which right now was extreme nausea and disgust. "You see if you can try to find it," Dean started, glancing between the two of them. "I'll try to stop Roy from healing anyone. Cheryl, wanna come with me?" He asked hopefully. She pursed her lips together and shook her head, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. "No. I'll go with Sam." She replied.

"Oh, okay."

Sam filed through a row of cars, glancing around for any sign of Wright (or life.) "Help! Help me, please!" A voice cried out. Sam spun around, his eyes immediately landing on Wright who ran past a flurry of cars. He was quick to sprint towards him and Wright smashed into him, desperately clinging to his arms and fear painted across his face. "Help me! Please!" He begged. Sam looked around wildly, he saw no signs of the reaper - "Where is he?!" He asked. Wright's grip on his shoulder tightened for a moment before he pointed behind Sam - of course there was nothing there as Sam wasn't on the reapers agenda - but he believed Wright. "Okay. Come on, let's go."

Cheryl and Sam sprinted through the parking lot, desperately searching for Wright - he never went into the tent during the services, he had to be here. Somewhere. She glanced around, rising onto the tips of her toes as if it would do anything compared to the giant next to her. "I'll take the left, you take the right side." He said. Cheryl nodded and gently grasped his arm, giving his elbow a squeeze before letting go. "You be careful, Sam. Can't have you getting sick like Dean."

He smiled briefly, "I won't."

People started piling out of the tent - yelling various things about a fire. A man bumped into Cheryl, knocking the air out of her lungs and she fell right on her ass. She grunted from the impact and crawled away from the mass of people - she had just about reached a clearing of tall grass when some idiot had stepped on her hand. "Mierda!" She hissed in pain. Cheryl shook her hand as if it would do anything as she rised to her feet. Being 5'2 and in the middle of a mob of panicked people may just be the worst thing that's ever happened to her.

Cheryl searched for any sign of Sam or Dean, Dean clearly succeeded at his job - there was definitely no service happening now. Which means he should be somewhere close. She sighed deeply and walked along the outskirts of the crowd that slowly started to separate as they went to their own cars. Whenever they got separated from one another they'd always meet back at the Impala.

She jogged over to the Impala where Sam and Dean were waiting, and Dean had this sour look on his face. Which wasn't unusual, but lately she found herself being more and more worried for him. It shouldn't be normal to be that upset all the time.

Here they were, back at the motel waiting until they could go back to Roy's to stop Sue Ann from killing another person. It was sort of like their first ever case together, it felt so long ago with all the cases they've had since - two months and nearly ten cases. "So Roy really believes he's healing people?" Sam said as he sat down on the edge of his bed. Dean shrugged and pulled off his boots, biker boots as Cheryl called them, she made fun of him once for wearing them when he doesn't have a motorcycle. "I don't think he knows what Sue Ann is doing." He replied. His eyes never left Cheryl as she bent over to untie her shoes, his eyes widening as her shirt rode up revealing a tattoo. Cheryl had a tramp stamp. Dean tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and grinned, he was about to say something about it to her when Sam practically shoved a book into his hand. "Well, I found this. Hidden in their library. It's ancient. Written by a priest who went to the dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper." Sammy informed. Dean scowled at him before skimming through the book, he wrinkled his nose at the drawing of the reaper. Damn, even the art of something could be scary. "Must be a hell of a spell." He commented.

"Hey, sorry. Got caught up in the crowd." She panted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Dean's brows raised slightly and he turned to face her, "You okay?" He asked. Cheryl nodded and let out a little breath, her hand hurt like hell - throbbing like crazy and definitely swelling. "Yeah, did you find Wright?" Cheryl's question was directed towards Sam, who thankfully nodded and said that he was alive and good. Dean's eyes dragged down her form, taking note of the redness of her hand and the little specks of gravel on her knees. His lips thinned and he looked at her face again, "Cheryl, you were right." He said.

She blinked in surprise, "What?"

"It's not Roy, it's Sue Ann." Dean answered. Cheryl let out a sigh of relief and her lips quirked up into a slight smile, she was right. Roy - the sweet, nice old guy wasn't doing all of this. "Oh, thank God."

"Yeah. You gotta build a black alter with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that, a preacher's wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil." Sam glanced over at Cheryl who was popping a couple of painkillers. She swallowed and cleared her throat, "Desperate. Her husband was dying, she didn't have anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy." She spoke up. Cheryl wiped the tears that were welling in her eyes and sniffled. Dean's face fell and his heart dropped to his ass it felt like. "Are you okay?" Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern. She chuckled quietly and wiped the tears that fell, "Oh yeah, pills just went down weird is all."

"Why did you take em?" Dean asked.

"Period cramps." Cheryl dead panned. His mouth made a little 'o' and he quickly looked back at the book, embarrassment filling him to his core. He sort of forgot that Cheryl was a woman who got periods. "Uh," Dean cleared his throat. "But, Roy's alive - so why is she still using the spell?"

"To force the reaper to kill people she finds immoral." Sam quickly answered. Cheryl's lips thinned and she sighed deeply, these hard-core religious people pissed her off. Dean clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly, "May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work." He muttered. Cheryl couldn't help but grin at his comment, sauntering over to them and crossing her arms. "How can we break the binding spell?" She asked.

Dean flipped through some pages, his eyes landing on the same cross that Sam recognized and the cross that Sue Ann had. He pointed to the picture and glanced over at the two of them, "You know Sue Ann had a coptic cross like this. When she dropped it the reaper backed off."

"So you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the altar?" Sam confirmed.

Dean nodded and shrugged, "Maybe both. But we gotta do it soon, he's healing Layla tonight."

The Impala rolled up to the house and the tent, the headlights were off as they didn't want to announce their presence and Dean was quick to turn the car off. Sam noticed the second smaller car parked near the tent and frowned. "That's Layla's car. She's already here."

Dean nodded sadly and let out a deep, disappointed sigh, "Yeah." He shouldn't have been healed, it should have been her instead of him - he didn't deserve a second chance. Cheryl's lips curved down into a frown and she rested her chin on the benched seat in front of her. Backseat privileges were awesome. "Dean..." She whispered. He sighed deeply and relaxed back into his seat, he's been trying to ignore how guilty he's been feeling since he got healed. How there were definitely many other people who deserved to be healed rather than him. "You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gunna die in a coupla months." He muttered.

"What's happening to her is horrible. But what are you gunna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God." Sam comforted. He remained silent for a moment, he didn't have anything to reply with. He knew that Sam was right, but it didn't change how he felt.

Dean abruptly climbed out of the car and Cheryl slid over and came out after him. "Hey." She whispered shouted. When he ignored her, she jogged over to him and gently grasped his arm. He turned and she dropped her arm to her side, "If you're going through a hard time over all this, I'm here for you... we can talk or drink away the pain together. Whatever you need. I'm here." She whispered. Dean's eyes softened for a moment, this wasn't the behaviour of a woman who would hate him. His lips thinned and he glanced back at Sam who peeked into the tent. The service had already started, Roy was about to heal Layla and of course, Sue Ann was nowhere to be found. "I'm fine."

"Dean, I know I've never said this before but you're my friend. I care about you and I care about what happens to you, don't suffer alone if you don't have to."

Dean didn't know what to say, so, he just gave her a curt nod before turning and walking away.

All of the lights in the house were off - no sign of life inside. They crept around the wrap around porch, and Cheryl peaked over the railing noticing light poking out the cracks of the outside basement entrance. She tapped Sam's arm and jerked her head towards it, "Here." She whispered.

"Where's Sue Ann?" Dean asked.

"House." Sam replied. He glanced down at Cheryl and they all started to move towards the house until Dean stopped "Go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up." Sam stepped back and was immediately pushed (gently) forward by him. "Dean, what are you..." Two cops descended a set of stairs and Dean backed away from Cheryl and Sam. He grinned, "Hey!" The cops' heads snapped over in his direction but Dean's grin only widened. "You gonna put the fear of God in me?" The pair of cops were quick to drop their coffees - sprinting after Dean and not even noticing Cheryl and Sam who ran up the front steps to Roy and Sue Ann's house. "God, I could kiss him right now." Cheryl joked in a quiet whisper.

"Pretty sure he would like that." Sam snorted.

Sam pried the doors open and ushered Cheryl inside, tucked in the corner of the basement there was an altar. It was littered with blood, animal bones and horns - there was even part of a rabbit's ears. Sam's eyes landed on a photograph of Dean taken from security footage inside the tent. His face was crossed out with what looked like blood and Cheryl felt her stomach churn. Her fingers gently grazed the photo, then realizing (much too late) that Sue Ann was going to take Dean's life for Layla's. "Sam -" A voice from behind them cut her off, "I gave your brother life and I can take it away." They both startled and turned, only to see Sue Ann who was clutching the cross in her hands. Sam and Cheryl side-eyed each other - and it barely took a second for them to act together.

Cheryl flipped over the altar table, scattering all its items across the floor and the glass cups shattered on impact. Sam rushed up the stairs behind Sue Ann - but she was faster than he was, slamming the wooden doors shut and securing it with a wooden beam. He pushed against it with all the strength he had - and nothing. "Sam, can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked. And your brother is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will." Sue Ann soothed. It was pitiful that she believed she was doing any good. Sam grit his teeth and quickly surveyed the room, a window, secret door, anything that may help them get out of here. "What is it with you Winchester's and getting me stuck in creepy basements." Cheryl muttered under her breath.

Cheryl glanced around, noticing a small window that was boarded up with old wood pieces. She pointed, "There!" Sam rushed down the steps and Cheryl climbed on top of a rickety table to tear off the wooden boards. Keeping one of the wooden pieces, she smashed open the window and laid down her jacket so that they could safely climb out.

After managing to get rid of the cops, Dean was making his way back to the tent when some lights behind him had started to flicker. His brows furrowed in confusion and he slowly turned as the lights on the path began to go out one by one with a pop. A muscle in his jaw flexed and when he turned back around, the reaper was stalking towards him.

Sue Ann clutched the cross in her hands - her eyes screwed shut as she recited the spell in Latin right outside the tent where the session was being held. Dean had to die - it was only right.

The reaper placed his hand on the side of Dean's head and he convulsed almost immediately - sinking to his knees like he did when he was healed.

Sam ripped the cross from Sue Ann's hands and threw it to the ground, the glass vial full of blood that was snug inside smashing to tiny pieces. Sue Ann's eyes flew open and a scream tore through her throat, "No!" She cried out. She fell to her knees and desperately clawed up the broken bits, "My God, what have you done!" Cheryl stared down at her, a blank expression on her face. Religion as an excuse to do heinous, terrible things was no way to live. It was the same as saying that the "devil made me do it," it's not true. It's not faith. "He's not your God." Sam said.

Sue Ann exhaled sharply, looking up at them with horror. "You-." Her eyes landed on a figure behind them, something only she could see. She let out a terrified yelp and scampered to her feet - taking off in the opposite direction. The reaper kept pursuing her, however, placing his icy cold hand on the side of her head and smiling menacingly down at her. Tears welled in Sue Ann's eyes and she sank to her knees. Cheryl turned away when she began to convulse and collapse to the ground. "Let's go." She muttered.

"You okay?" Sam called out to Dean once they reached the Impala. He ran a hand through his short hair and sighed deeply. "Hell of a week." He replied. Cheryl's lips thinned and she climbed into the backseat of the Impala without a word.

The ride back to the motel was silent and as soon as Dean parked she got out. "I'm gonna grab my stuff and get my own room." She quickly spat out. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and she pushed past Sam. As soon as Cheryl got into the room she went to the bathroom to grab her makeup bag, her clothes would be fine. She always kept them neat in her bag and not all over the place. "Cheryl, you're not serious." Dean scoffed. She shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear, all this faith shit has really fucked with her. "I am." She said simply.

Cheryl laid curled up on her side on the bed, all of the blankets were wrapped around her as she flipped through the channels on the television. She didn't have much time to watch TV when the boys were around and they probably wouldn't be able to agree on something to watch. Her eyes widened as she saw that a channel was doing a Friends rerun, "Hell yes." She smiled. American sitcoms were her bread and butter.

There was a knock at the door and Cheryl glanced over, slowly sitting up. It'd been a while since she got her own room, at least an hour or so. There was another knock, louder this time and Cheryl rolled her eyes, tucking her tongue into her cheek as she roused out of bed to answer it. She cracked the door open and peered out, "Si? Hola?" She called out. Her face fell when it was just Dean, "Oh. It's you." She muttered, pulling open the door for him to come in. Dean chuckled quietly and looked around the room, it was a little nicer than theirs but that was to be expected. This was a room for one. "I come bearing gifts." He said, holding up a white paper bag. Cheryl cocked a brow and tried to mask her hunger. She ran her tongue across her front teeth and gestured towards the bag. "What'd you get?"

Dean grinned, "BLTS."

"Okay, sit on the bed."

Dean sat on the edge and kicked off his boots, he unwrapped one of the sandwiches and Cheryl plopped down next to him. When she unwrapped her own sandwich, she realized that there were avocados on it - and Dean had gotten extra fries. Her lips thinned and she inhaled sharply which caught his attention. "What? You don't like it?"

"No, it's good. Thanks." She smiled at him reassuringly. Her eyes settled on the TV in front of them that was still playing Friends. Dean raised his brows, "You like this?" Cheryl hummed out a "yes" and bit into her sandwich, BLTS were hard to screw up - they were good no matter where you went. Dean snorted at a particular scene and shook his head, "Ross sucks."

"Right?! God, he's so annoying." Cheryl groaned. He laughed and pulled a basket of fries out of the bag, which makes sense for America. Portion sizes are massive. "Uh, why'd you get another room?" He asked gently. She sighed and shrugged, she had her own reasons but they were nothing compared to what Dean went through during this hunt. "All this... religion stuffs been hard." She replied quietly. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled on it. "I dunno, I'm fine. How are you?" She questioned with a raised brow.

"Not good."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." He replied shortly. Cheryl nodded in understanding and looked away, when she was upset she liked distractions. And, well, maybe this would work.

Cheryl swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath, "You can ask me a maximum of three questions about me, and then I'll ask you three questions about yourself." She offered. Dean's brows shot up and his eyes widened, the woman who never answered his questions - was letting him ask her questions? "Quick! Before I change my mind." She waved and popped a fry into her mouth.

"Shit, okay, uh... where did you move to when you came to America?" He asked. He was hopeful that she wouldn't refuse to answer this question - friends were supposed to know things about each other. Cheryl squinted and pouted her lips together in thought, "New Orleans, I think." She answered. Dean grinned a bit and set his sandwich down on the bed, turning his full body to face her. "Your turn."

"I know, do you have any allergies?" Cheryl tilted her head to the side and bit her lip. He nodded and rubbed his nose, "Yeah, cats."

"What? Cats are so cute, though."

"It's not like I can control what I'm allergic to, believe me, I'd rather not be allergic to cats." He snorted.

Cheryl smirked and leaned over to playfully punch his arm, "No pussy for you." She teased. Dean's face fell and then he let out a nervous chuckle as he rubbed his thighs. He had to think of another question, and it had to be a good one that may lead to a conversation... or more uncounted questions.

"What's your biggest fear?" Dean questioned. This was a harmless question for non-hunters, people who didn't know what really lurked in the dark. For people like them... it could be uncomfortable. "Dying alone," She quickly answered. She gulped and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "Probably weird considering our profession but, yeah. Dying alone."

Dean shook his head, "Nah, not weird. I get it." Dying alone was a reasonable fear, but when you're a hunter... it's probable that you will die alone. This job isn't for the faint of heart. Cheryl pointed to the silver ring on his hand, she'd been curious about it ever since they met. Dean wore jewellry, the necklace (Samulet), the bracelets and the watch - he had style. "Are you married?" She asked. Dean let out a bark of laughter and shook his head in amusement. Him? Married? That was comical. "No, no. Shit, no." He laughed. He cracked an eye open to look down at her, "Are you?"

Cheryl grinned, "Are you sure you want that to be your last question?" She asked. His eyes narrowed as he thought about it, he could think of a better question to ask her... but knowing whether or not she was married would be nice too. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, wanna know if I keep hittin' on a married woman or not."

Cheryl laughed and nodded slowly, "Okay, okay. I was. But not anymore. Happy?" Dean's brows shot up in surprise, he half expected the answer to be no with how she was. Such a hard-ass, trust issues, et cetera. Someone got past all of that and managed to marry her?

They spent the rest of the night watching Scooby-Doo together on some kids channel until he went back to his own room to sleep.

"Okay, it's my last question." Cheryl mused. She ran a hand through her hair and fluffed it up. Her eyes softened when she thought of her last question, she didn't expect him to tell her if he wasn't comfortable. She wasn't going to force him. "What was your mom's name?" She asked gently. His jaw flexed and he looked away from her almost immediately. His silence was enough of an answer. "I'm sorry, I'll ask something else..."

"Yeah." He exhaled. She picked at the bread of her BLT and her lips thinned. "Favourite TV show as a kid?"

"Scooby-Doo." He quickly answered.

"Never seen it."

"What?!"

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, seemingly staring at nothing. Sam, who was watching him, frowned "What is it?"

"Nothing." Dean shut down. Sam sighed and his lips thinned into a straight line, he was worried for Dean. And it wasn't exactly easy to get him to talk about his feelings. "What is it?" He repeated, kinder this time. Dean exhaled a breath and rubbed his face, he was silent for a moment before quietly asking: "We did the right thing, right?"

"Of course we did." He comforted. Dean hung his head in shame and screwed his eyes shut. "It doesn't feel like it."

A sharp knock at the door grabbed their attention, "I got it." Sam quickly said as he went to open the door. Dean's eyes widened as it was Layla who was on the other side, her hands neatly clasped in front of her. She smiled a little bit as Sam greeted her and stepped away to let her in. "Hey." She said sweetly. Dean quickly rised, "How did you know that we were here?" He asked.

"Sam called. He said that you wanted to say goodbye...?" Dean shot Sam a look and he was already smiling sheepishly, hand on the door knob. "I'm... gunna grab a soda." He muttered before leaving.

Dean glanced back at Layla who was nibbling on her bottom lip. "So... uh, where are you going?" She asked.

He shrugged, "Don't know yet, our work takes us all over." He replied. She watched him in silence and tucked a strand of her light hair behind her ear. "You know, I went back to see Roy."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. He laid his hands on my forehead but nothing happened." She whispered as she sat down on one of the beds. He sat beside her and squeezed his own knees, his hand flexing as he did. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry it didn't work." Layla glanced over at him, her eyes soft and kind - there probably wasn't a mean bone in her body. "Sue Ann died, you know, stroke." She whispered. Dean's lips thinned and he nodded slowly, the reaper got his much deserved revenge. "Yeah, I heard. Roy's a good guy, he doesn't deserve what's happened," He looked down at her and his lips parted slightly. "Must be tough. Believing in something so much only to have it disappoint you."

Layla smiled and Dean's brows furrowed in confusion, "You wanna hear something weird?" She asked. He nodded once and her smile widened, "I'm okay. Really. I guess if you're gunna have faith...you can't just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don't."

"So what now?"

Layla smiled softly, "God works in mysterious ways." She gently cupped Dean's cheek and rubbed his cheekbone with her thumb. His eyes fluttered shut and he remained still, enjoying her soft touch. "Goodbye, Dean." She said tearfully as she began to walk to the door. He opened his eyes and his lips parted, "Well..." He cleared his throat and Layla turned to face him with an expectant look. He swallowed hard, "I'm not much of the praying type... but... I'm gunna pray for you." He said. Her smile widened and her eyes shone with unshed tears, the gesture meant a lot to her. "There's a miracle." She whispered before leaving, the door quietly clicking shut behind her.

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