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generalsmemories · 6 months

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Ginkgo leaves

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: Since reqs are open, you think you could write jing yuans reaction to his lover being Mara-struck? Thank you! - requested by anonymous

✧ contents: established relationship, angst, hurt/almost no comfort lmfao, implied character death, mentions of other characters, pov mostly written in jing yuan's pov, still usage of 2nd pov (referring the reader as you), mayhaps ooc because jing yuan is an emotional wreck.

✧ a/n: when i tell ya'll i legit struggled to be able to write this entire thing. there's been like 3-4 scrapped drafts because halfway through writing i would just NOT be satisfied with the result. to the anon who requested this, i'm so sorry it took this long - but i hope the upcoming trainwreck makes up for it! a trainwreck im still not actually satisfied with LMFAO. but it's better than the other 5 scrapped works. also not beta-read so fellas if u see a spelling error - no you didn't.

p.s: some mara-struck information i give here are totally fanmade for the purpose of this fic alone, as such don't take whatever i write about mara here as what actually happens canonically to characters (then again most of the playable characters have different symptoms of mara themselves).

"Benefactor, am I correct to believe you're asking me if the general has any specific interests?" Tingyun asks with a snicker, the trailblazer looking away from her prying eyes while mumbling a quiet yes.

"Some of the younger... Can I call them younger? Anyway, some of the younger Xianzhou citizens are very infatuated with the general. Seeing as I've been announced as his honory guest, they do often come and ask me various things to try and gain his favor. So yeah, anything at this point will work - so please!" the trailblazer hurriedly explained, clasping their hands together in a desperate attempt to get anything from the foxian amicassador leaning back with a quirked eyebrow.

"Ahh, love truly makes someone go blind doesn't it," she muses out loud, the trailblazers' eyebrow furrowing together in confusion over the foxian's lady choice of words, "... You're not entirerely wrong with that statement..."

"Do you want to know what his favorite flower is?" Tingyun asks, ignoring the confused question that had been uttered to her, snapping her fan open to hide the cheeky smile that spread across her lips - but anyone could still tell that her eyes were gleaming with mischief as the trailblazer nodded their head.

"He doesn't have one."

"Then why did you even-"

"But he likes ginkgo leaves."

The trailblazers' eyes widened in shock, and rightfully so because the very thing ginkgo leaves are associated with are after all...

"He had a lover once, and as far as I'm aware, his last moment with them while they still had their consciousness intact was surrounded by ginkgo leaves."

Jing Yuan whilst having forgotten almost every single moment with you, does unfortunately remember the exact details of the day that your descent into madness started. Because what he witnessed wasn't a futile struggle you had with yourself to not to destroy everything within your vicinity. Instead, he witnessed the slow process of your bright self becoming an empty shell, only capable of uttering a few words.

It's comical really, even when faced with a curse that struck everyone mad - he found out that it oddly fit your character to not go mad, but instead become the complete opposite of your gentle self. A hollow shell of the person he fell in love with all centuries ago.

Jing Yuan knew he had to end your suffering right then and there when you first started to show signs.

But he couldn't - This wasn't something that had to be immediately dealt with, his hand wasn't forced like it was back when he had to slay his own master down before she took more lives.

No, this was a normal afternoon on what would've been another normal, mundane day in both of your lives. But everything went wrong the moment Jing Yuan heard the breaking of glass, and how there was a lone gingko leaf inside the palm of your hand - a ginkgo leaf that you were staring wide-eyed at with a trembling hand.

You were too far from the veranda to have a ginkgo leaf in your hand.

General Jing Yuan would've ended your suffering the moment you turned around to lock eyes with him, your own face twisted into one of utter fear.

General Jing Yuan would've reported you the to Ten-Lords Commissions as the law had stated. But Jing Yuan couldn't - because Jing Yuan knew that the moment he did, he would never see you again.

So he decided for once he would be selfish. Jing Yuan rarely made choices lately that was based off of his own feelings, but his time with you was cut too harshly, so once again he chooses to be selfish. Even if that meant that it would prolong your suffering just a tiny bit more. "... We can figure something out," was the only thing he could muster up the courage to say with a shaking voice. You didn't say anything, your mouth wobbling a tiny bit and your breathing getting harsher by the second.

But still you indulged him - you always did. So with an equally wobbly smile, you only nodded your head slightly, "... Sure."

That wobbly smile and expression of utter fear was the last genuine expression that truly came from yourself.

The descent to becoming fully mara-struck is usually a fast process, the curse able to completely overtake someone's mind within the same day the symptoms appears - rendering the person completely vulnerable with the only alternative to either hand themselves in to the Ten-Lords or wait for the Ten-Lords to come to them personally.

Your usual easy-going smile was gone, in its stead was eyes that kept going in and out of focus. Almost as if you were desperately trying to keep yourself grounded - a battle you both knew would end with your defeat.

Jing Yuan didn't dare to venture outside of the house. One step out and every Cloud Knight would've been on you within seconds to subdue you. He had first initially resorted to just holding you within his arms for as long as he could, to be able to remember how you felt like after your death.

But with the minimal strength you had left, you had wobbled to the garden, every step taken only making you pant heavily. But even with heavy breaths of air leaving your lips, you had refused to take Jing Yuans hand or offer to even carry you out to the garden. When you had managed to reach the ginkgo tree standing tall at the center of the garden, Jing Yuan was sure you were going to collapse in front of it, taking a quick step to catch you.

But instead you had merely reached your hands up, the falling leaves fluttering gently down onto your palms. And while you were in indescriable pain for the last couple of hours - Jing Yuan could only see a serene expression when you looked up at the ginkgo leaves that were continously falling down.

"... They're beautiful... aren't they... Jing Yuan? It's almost a pity... that these beautiful... leaves are associated with our doom," you said softly. Jing Yuan could feel his breath hitch in his throat when you uttered his name.

You're obviously struggling to convey whatever thoughts you still had to him properly, taking a moment in between words to catch your breath, eyebrows furrowed slightly as you fought against the searing pain that was spreading through every nerve in your body.

There's a sudden gust of wind which causes the pile of leaves in your hands to flutter away from your grasp. Your hand stretches out slightly, almost in an attempt to reach out for them - stumbling a bit in your step. The limp causes Jing Yuan to take a quick step forward with his arms outstretched. Perhaps seeing him in your peripheral vision causes you to stop the futile attempt to catch the escaping leaves, arms going limp against your side as you turn to face him - your once blank expression turning into a somber smile instead.

Jing Yuan thinks that it's unfair how normal you look in front of him - almost as if you haven't been becme mara-struck. Like nothing has happened to you aside from the ginkgo leaves fluttering from your lips whenever you cough. The same cough that causes the general of Luofu to flinch every time - without fail.

And perhaps you can see his inner turmoil, the way he tries to make eye contact with you, but is unable to after a few seconds. The way his hands clench too hard into fist to the point droplets of blood fall down to the grass and stains it a deep red while he bites his own lips to not say a word - lest he says something that he will regret.

And you truly wish that you could tell him everything is okay like you usually do.

But for the first time since the day he lost his friends, you can't.

"... I'm sorry," you finally say, the apology making him whip his head up to you again. Mouth opening to say something to comfort you, to tell you that it's not your fault. But the words are unable to leave his mouth when he sees your arms slightly outstretched towards him with a small smile.

And he can't hold it in anymore.

It only takes him a few wide steps to reach you from his position before he cradles you within his arms. The grip is tight, unbearably tight to the point it hurts, but you don't complain. You're limp in his hold, and if this was any day he wouldn't comment, but the fact that you're not moving a single muscle terrifies Jing Yuan to the core. "... Please," he finally manages to whisper, the rustling of ginkgo leaves around you almost drowning out his quiet plea.

"Please don't make me do this again."

He doesn't ask if the tensing of your body is caused by the pain that's rapidly increasing or if it's caused by his silent confession. He can however feel the gentle hand that rests against the lower part of his back and your head resting against the side of his own. The reassurance you try to give him does nothing to help because he's aware that it probably brought you unmeasurable pain to try to move those limbs - instead the general buries his face closer to your neck and squeezes you tighter.

"... You won't." you whisper quietly.

It takes a moment for Jing Yuan to process the meaning behind those two words.

But it's a moment too late, because before he can get his phone out to usher a command, a few resounding knocks can be heard throughout the quiet mansion.

"General Jing Yuan. This is Xueyi of the Ten-Lords commission. I've gotten information that there's currently a mara-struck within these premises."

Jing Yuan feels his blood run cold, he pulls himself away from you to stare at you properly in disbelief.

You're still staring at him with the same somber expression, however he can tell there's a small pitiful smile grazing your lips, "I'm sorry," you whisper once again.

"I asked her... personally," you start, finally letting yourself rest now that the end is near, slumping down onto Jing Yuan's chest, your ear settling itself against his heart to hear his rapid heartbeats.

Jing Yuan loathes the fact that it's at this moment, with the Ten-Lords commission outside of your door and with him completely broken do you actually look at peace - like your battle against time has finally come to its conclusion.

And naturally, the one who lost is you.

"Half a day... with you. Then she would come and bring me there. You won't have to... do this again."

You're not able to see Jing Yuan's face - and Jing Yuan wouldn't want you to see how he looked like right now. The arms around you is trembling, his mind is racing - trying to come up with anything to give him a bit more time with you.

But for once, the general that had a plan for every situation had nothing in mind.

He's lost. And the prize of the loss this time is losing you forever.

"General, I apologize for the rudeness of what I'm about to do, but this is for both of your safety," Jing Yuan hear Xueyi mutter from outside of the door, before he hears the rattling of the door frame start to slide open.

"Wait- no," it's a quiet request that gets ignored as Xueyi strides in alone, the lack of company making Jing Yuan's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"... Their last request along with the request for my late arrival here was for the Cloud Knights to not see you like this. Naturally I won't tell anyone of what I've seen today."

Jing Yuan doesn't care about that, he could care less about his image right now, pulling you closer to him while his eyes are downcast - he makes no move to hand you over to the judge.

The puppet judge before him does not say anything - nor does she make a move. What she does however is wait, wait for the general before her that has been utterly crushed and broken by the person in his arms start to accept the harsh truth once again.

If he doesn't handle the mara-struck himself, someone else would - but the end result only serves to punish him in the end, the one left behind.

Xueyi hears a silent breath be let out by the general, her once closed eyes opening up to see the general pull slightly away from you, one hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. Your eyes have long since closed, and you're most likely not even conscious to hear what he's about to say.

"My dear... I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. But I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit longer before we can meet again," he whispers, bumping his forehead against your own gently, "I hope you won't fault me for that."

A long ginkgo leaf flutters right between the two of you, eventually settling down on your chest.

Jing Yuan sucks in one last deep breath, "I'm sorry I kept you here for so long - I'm sorry you had to be in pain for so long because of me," he leans in to slot his lips one last time over your own, whispering something that Xueyi can't hear before he rises up, your body limp in his arms.

"Thank you for your service Miss Xueyi, please see them off appropiately." Jing Yuan says, voice sounding eerily calm - almost like his usual self.

When he turns around to finally face her, the puppet's lifeless eyes seem to grow a bit in surprise. Before her is the general of Luofu, his usual easy-going smile present on his lips.

Like he wasn't carrying his mara-struck lover in his arms.

"As much as I would want to accompany you to see them off, I'm afraid I have some urgent matters to attend to," he informs, handing your body over to Xueyi - she doesn't comment on how his hands are still slightly trembling or how he immediately turned a bit to the side to ignore staring at her head-on.

Even though Xueyi doesn't want to ask, she still asks either way, "What are your plans from here on, general?"

Jing Yuan only gives her a close eyed smile, turning his gaze towards the large ginkgo tree with his hands behind his back. He gnaws a tiny bit at his lips, finally breathing out.

A couple of seconds passes by before he opens his mouth.

"I think I'll meditate a bit under this tree before heading back to the Seat. I can't leave Luofu without me for too long after all."

5 SCRAPPED WORKS AND I'M STILL NOT ACTUALLY THAT SATISFIED BUT IF I KEEP THIS PIECE LONGER IN THE WORKS THE MORE I'LL BUTCHER IT SO HAHA - THIS IS THE BEST WE CAN DO AFTER 3 MONTHS OF CONSTANT BACK AND FORTH FELLAS. I HOPE IT SQUEEZED YOUR HEART A TINY BIT NONETHELESS.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr imagines #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #star rail x you #honkai star rail angst #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan angst

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yandere-romanticaa · 4 months

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It's 8 PM. I am listening to Frank Sinatra. And Jing Yuan makes me emotional therefore, I need to write some shit down. When will I ever write for any other HSR character that's not him???

Jing Yuan, a long living species, who falls for a regular human. A short living species.

He is a man who is able to play the waiting game, he is that kind of person who can and is willing to analyze every single possible move his enemy, or ally, can and is willing to make. Centuries of long and hard battles have desensitized him to certain brutality. Now, he is not some beast who is not capable of compassion but when you've lost so much, it's only natural for your heart to harden.

That is why the realization that he cannot play the waiting game with you dawns on him.

You may stand by his side now but where will you be in the next 10 years? The next 50 years? A century means nothing to him. It will all go away in the blink of an eye, forgotten and unnecessary.

His heart sinks at the thought of you not being with him. The way in which you coo after him, it gives him a reason to actually enter his office and leave it with a smile on his face. Who will be there for that cheeky little Cloud Knight of his when he's feeling pouty? Who will be there to smack Jing Yuan back to his senses as he takes yet another unnecessary nap?

One day, you will grow old and he will stay the same as he is. He will hold you in his arms and weep as he watches the life leave your eyes for good. Jing Yuan will be forced to watch the final piece of his heart be ripped away from him, stolen by cruel destiny. He could already taste the blood in his mouth as he bites back a scream of pain.

Curse the Abundance. Curse the entire Universe for taking you away from him. Curse your silly mortality, curse the fact that you were so perfect to begin with.

That is precisely why right now, he must have you. He takes you away and locks you in some private estate, where you can be safe. The thought of making you a long living species is tempting but he is not sure if he's willing to play that card.

You scream sometimes. You weep and cry to please let you go, that you love him but that this is not alright. And Jing Yuan can do nothing but to kiss your forehead and mumble sweet nothings in your ear.

He may perhaps even marry you in secret. If he does, his wedding ring would never come off his finger, not even after your passing. This sparks so many rumors on the Lofu but Jing Yuan does not acknowledge them. He is the only one who needs to know the true meaning of the ring.

Jing Yuan is not ready for your death. He may try to prepare but really, who is ever ready for something so painful?

He sits quietly next to you, the sheets beneath you all silk and perfection. The room reeks of medicine and flowers but it is missing the bright sound of your laughter. You are gone. Jing Yuan bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks of funeral arrangements.

But it's so hard to concentrate if his vision is filled with black spots.

Jing Yuan stands up, his feet shaky, his soul shattered. His heart is either dead or dying because you took it with you, wherever you may be. The General can feel the walls around him tightening, the air in his lungs knocked out as the floor is suddenly covered in golden leaves.

Ah, they look pretty. You would have liked those indeed. Jing Yuan reaches towards them, a long, ink black talon gently picks it off the marble floor as his long white hair covers his face.

Odd, he thinks to himself. His hands never looked so black before.

A nearby caw of a raven breaks him out of his trance as Jing Yuan looks to his left, where a massive mirror hangs. He is greeted with something that should horrify him, something that should make him weep but he has no tears left to shed.

The Mara is taking over him. It is too late to fix him.

Maybe, just maybe, the General of the Lofu does not want to be fixed. Perhaps he can be slain in battle and be reunited with you in the afterlife. Would you be happy to see him? Would you hold him in your arms, play with his hair and sing him songs in the quiet evening?

Perhaps you wouldn't show him such kindness. After all, he has hurt you in so many ways. He does not deserve your love. But he can't help but to reach out for it.

A final tear cascades down his pale cheek as Jing Yuan smiles at his reflection. A maid opens the door behind him and lets out a loud scream, her eyes shaking in fear as she witnesses the General transforming into the same kind monster he swore he would keep in check. Jing Yuan sighs as he feels his heart beat, for the final time.

He was coming to see you. He was going to see you again. He was ready to grovel and beg as much as necessary, if it meant that you would be by his side. Yes, that truly was a pleasant thought. You and him, together as the sun sets. He can still see the faint glimmer of the golden ring on his finger, his eternal promise to you. It shines like a lonely star in a massive galaxy, with no way to protect itself.

However, not even stars can live forever.

And just like that, the world goes dark.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere male #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #yandere jing yuan #honkai star rail #honkai jing yuan #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #yandere hsr

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harvatat · 2 months

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blanket burrito || jing yuan

according to jing yuan and the xianzhou luofu, its citizens rarely got sick, the only sickness available to them being mara, which was a fate worse than death for those afflicted with it and for their families, who could be infected. however, even such long-living beings could be afflicted with something minor- the common cold.

and currently, the general of the xianzhou luofu was burrowing into his blanket, sniffling angrily as you tried not to laugh.

"stop laughing," jing yuan whined as you cleared your throat and sniffed, your phone in hand recording the gold-and-pearl-white-adorned general hiding in his quilts. "[name]!" you laugh loudly as you see a crown of messy white hair pop out from underneath the quilt, following by sneezing and some whining.

"aww, poor baby," you coo, and though you know how much he dislikes you cooing at him, he's silently more relieved to feel your touch, and he leans into your palm, nudging it like the stray cats on the luofu he'd occasionally sneak away to feed, and peppering kisses slowly until he tires, which is pretty quickly.

"you should rest," you start as you push him over onto his back and tuck him in gently, kissing his cheek. "c'mon, qin. nice and easy, there. it's just a cold, you'll be fine, i promise."

"i hate it," jing yuan mumbles tiredly as he yawns. "how do you even manage this?"

"rest, far, far away from any yukongs." you smile as he huffs with a grin, turning around to sleep. "sleep well, love."

when jing yuan wakes up, thirsty and sweaty and with a weird need to pee, he doesn't quite understand why he feels so trapped. the world around him is dark and warm, but comfortable, and as his eyes adjust to the scene around him, he realises what you have done to him, and he doesn't know whether to feel betrayed or comforted in the fact that you rolled him into a damn burrito.

"ah! the dozing general is awake!" you laugh as you help him out of the burrito, and all he can do is sigh with relief as you push his sweaty bangs out of his face as he remembered why exactly he woke up.

"i need to pee."

"AND YOU WERE JUST STANDING HERE THE WHOLE TIME??!!?!?"

idk why i wrote this. ldkghfjdk he is so daddy and baby and dilf at the same time ong i will post the most horrendous downbad smut of this man one day-

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x you #jing yuan fluff #honkai jing yuan

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casualheizouenjoyers · 1 year

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- secrets i have held in my heart

featuring: jing yuan, bailu, yanqing, reader

warnings: a bit angsty ig, hanahaki au, blood, sickness, throwing up, coughing and just general sick stuff

Orchids grow where others cannot.

This phrase reigns especially true when orchids begin to grow in your body. Scratching your throat and clogging up your lungs.

You try to laugh it off as a small cough, a small sickness, as if the whole thing didn’t fill you with dread when you thought about the invasive plant infesting your every breath.

It isn’t until finally you violently cough over your sink that a bloodied white orchid petal came fluttering out.

Were… you some form of mara struck? You wondered in confusion at the collection of petals that grew with each hack of your lungs.

The high elder —Bailu— immediately takes up your case. Which is potentially concerning as you’ve gone to about possibly any doctor that will see you for some kind of explanation to your floral fever and none of them have had anything good to say.

In fact, they have nothing to say about your illness. No one knew what was causing the orchids to bloom, making a home of your decaying body; a pretty parasite taking you ahold.

The little Vidyadhara girl frowned upon seeing the collection of whole flowers and crumbled petals, all coated with a splattered layer of dried blood.

Bailu’s eyes squinted as she observed the floral.

Perhaps, it was some kind of achievement that you had every doctor and healer on the luofu stumped at your conditions?

It isn’t until you’re coughing out another flower, this time red covering it was still vibrant and liquid, that the healer decided you were some form of mara struck and needed to be monitored closely. Even as she wrote out her prescription and made you promise to come back the next week, you could tell she wasn’t too sure about what she was saying.

That did absolutely nothing to calm your nerves.

You go home after collecting your prescription and puke out leaves and stems along with the flowers.

Despite your sickness, work is work, you decided, and working as a tutor was fulfilling for you. You hope —prayed— that the sight of your favorite student, Yanqing, would bring you some form of joy. The lesson went smoothly, though it was clear your student’s mind was up in the clouds, but you didn’t comment about it as yours was rooted deep elsewhere.

With the closing of the textbook, Yanqing’s eyes light up.

“Can we swordfight now?” The teenaged boy asked.

You almost said no.

You had realized early on that Yanqing would do his work and pay attention better if you found a way to relate it to swordsmanship, or if you promised that the two of you would spar a little after a lesson.

There was a growing weakness in your body. It seemed that describing the flowers as a parasite wasn’t inaccurate, as every day went on you felt them drain the energy out of you.

Yanqing waited for your response.

You nodded, standing up and picking up your sword from where it rested on a wall. Once, you had used it as a cloud knight, now it only ever saw use when teaching the blonde boy.

Yanqing excitedly ran to the other side of the room, drawing his sword and getting into position. He paused, looking over at you.

When did your eyes become so sunken in? Your hand shook as you held your sword up and it became increasingly clear to Yanqing that you were in no position to swordfight.

Your student called out your name, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I— Give me a moment—” You called out, placing a hand on your head as a sudden headache came, making your vision blur and your legs lose balance as you head tumbling for the floor.

Yanqing tossed his sword far away as he slid to catch you.

Bailu is halfway through her yearly appointment with the general when you come in with Yanqing by your side.

You mumbled apologies for the interruption and swore on your life you were fine.

You had honestly not realized how bad things had gotten in the few days from the last time you had seen the healer.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jing Yuan.

The orchid also fluttered out of your mouth in a set of coughs that leave you out of breath on the ground, Yanqing down at your side again.

There are multiple voices speaking but your mind can focus on none of them.

Jing Yuan helped you up and you feel your heart clench up as a choke comes to your throat.

More orchids.

He whispered to you in a soft voice, trying to help you through this coughing fit as Yanqing explained the situation that had happened just a few minutes before.

Bailu watched this, shock painted on the girls face as she realized two truths.

You were indeed mara struck, just with a rare mutation that had gone out thousands of years ago.

You were also in love with the general

and it was going to be the death of you.

#piers writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hsr #hsr fic #hanahaki au #gender neutral reader #a little angst as a treat #teehee #who wrote this broooo #part two when #??#dont ask me

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ilyhaitanii · 1 month

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comforting voices ft. acheron & kafka (seperate)

sfw. there are many things in all of our lives that break us down, make us do things we would never. there's always light at the end of the tunnel, as they say. however, what they don't tell you is that you do not have to walk this treacherous path alone. she is always at your side, holding a torch as you both walk through the tunnel.

a/n: wrote this on a whim. i love acheron and kafka so much, i just had to write smth for my two girls <33

acheron:

"do you think we'll ever be able to adventure home, acheron?" you ask your wife, fingers carding through her smooth hair. she hums nonchalantly, turning to bury her face in your neck and loop her arms around you. the gloomy mood that suffocates your hotel room doesn't good unnoticed by either of you, yet neither of you can speak about it. seeing mr. yang again soured acheron's mood for the evening. it's not his fault entirely, yet you know her heart aches to hug the man again and tell him all what she has witnessed.

"i doubt it," she mumbles against your skin, hands pulling your thighs over her hips. acheron rests against your shoulder, eyes fluttered shut. you rub her temples with your soft thumbs, listening to the way her breath evens out.

"do you think mr. yang knows? i wanted to tell him when we saw him," you express quietly. acheron lifts her head out of your neck, brows furrowed. her gloved fingers trail up your arm, cupping your cheek.

"it is possible. however, i would advise against that. we are to complete this mission and we will leave," her voice is quiet, careful not to break the fragile tension between you both. her free arm keeps a secure grip around your waist, hand under your shirt comfortably.

"you mean i will leave." your words shatter the fragile bubble around you both. acheron feels the shard of glass pierce through her heart. "this is a suicide mission. going up against the family-- this won't end well and you know it," there's anger, fear, yet above all, love in your voice. the soft trembles make acheron slide her hand into yours. she watches the tears pool in your lashes, carefully sliding them away when they drip down the soft expense of your cheek.

"i've come this far. i must complete this," you shuffle away from her, trying to shield your vulnerable complexion from her. acheron quickly pulls you back, needing to feel you in her arms. "there's no way i'll leave you behind. you know this, right?" her fingers lift your chin, planting a soft kiss between your brows.

instantly, you both curl into one another, clutching onto your lifelines. at the end of the day, you both are aware you would follow acheron into the pits of hell. you would allow yourself to sink into the depths of the galaxy as long as it could be in her arms. you would watch each other destroy yourselves just to uncover the secrets of ██████.

kafka:

days when you have mara up flares, you always expect a hellish night. clouded memories pass by your eyes. the horror, blood, pain, agony-- everything all at once. you see it, feel it, taste it, breathe it, live it. kafka watches the way your body tenses and shakes with fear when these nightmares consume your being.

she sees it all with blade as well. she watches the way the mara breaks down a new part of your body with each day that passes. she watches as the nightmare become more intense, more real. she witnesses the blood that drips down your face when you wake up from that dream.

some days even her spirit whisper isn't helpful. you're still shaken, jumpy, far too tense compared to your sunny disposition. as you sit on your bedroom windowsill, gazing out onto the endless galaxy your mind wanders. the day the mara truly takes over your body, what will happen to you?

will you always have to witness these horrid memories constantly? will your heart always feel like it's being ripped to shreds, like someone is pressing on your lungs, like you're being pulled apart by every limb? your thoughts are interrupted by a hand on your shoulder.

you jerk, jumping beside the person. your eyes are blown wide, ready to reach for your sword. except it isnt at your side. you're at home, you're with kafka. you aren't back on ██████. you are safe.

"darling," her honey voice makes your shoulder slack. you walk into her embrace, smelling the expensive perfume she adorns herself with every day. kafka's jacket is draped around your shoulders as she sways you in her arms. "what was it today?" she asks softly.

"nothing new. i'll be fine, dont worry." you mumble against her creamy skin. she hums, rubbing your back and kissing your head.

"i know, but i still worry. come, i made lunch. maybe having something besides coffee in your stomach will put you at ease for a bit," kafka's hand is intertwined with yours as she drags you down the space station halls. you admire the way her hair is down today, elegantly flowing down her slender figure. you speak out her name when she puts her arm around your hips.

"i love you,"

"i love you too, my darling" she leaves another chaste kiss on your cheek. "forever."

#acheron x reader #acheron fluff #acheron x you #acheron honkai star rail #acheron hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #kafka x reader #kafka x you #kafka fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff

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megumisgirl · 11 months

Text

nerd!megumi x fem reader

nerd megumi who always sits in a corner of the library and never talks to anyone except yuuji and nobara. your best friend, nobara, who constantly works you up to megumi. "she's so smart!" "she loves maths, star wars and reads like a bajillion books! you should talk to her. she's a nerd like you!"

truth be told, megumi always kept an eye on you. how you'd always be second or third in school even though you were so popular and were barely seen studying or even with a book in hand, except for your story books maybe. but he was always scared to talk to you. and you were too. he was always first in school and got great grades, was good in sports, and was like the hottest person you've ever seen. his black rimmed glasses looked so hot resting low on his face and how his biceps would almost burst out of his compression t-shirt that he hid by wearing a thick hoodie on top.

one day you decided to work up the courage to speak to him. you went to the library for a short study session but got distracted by seeing megumi in the corner with his head burried in the book. your breathing hitched as you observed him-- long slender fingers, slightly flushed on the top, veins on his forearm as his usual hoodie sleeve is rolled up to his elbow. his dark hair was unkempt and messy, falling over his eyes and his glasses. oh, his glasses. you pictured him on top of you with his glasses on, fogged up and pounding you to heaven as you screamed his name. you clenched your thighs as you picked your phone up to see the time then walking up to megumi with fire between your legs.

"hey.." you whispered, bending at the waist to meet his eyes as he straightened his back and you mirrored him. "you readin' star wars?" you asked cheekily, pointing at this book as he looked down at his book. his cheeks flushed as you pushed his glasses up.

"uh, yeah." he said, "wanna sit?" he asked, you nodded softly, sitting in front of him and leaning closer to see the book but he just flipped so you'd see. "it's last in command, "

"oh! luke and mara!" you said, he flushed smiling as he nodded. you guys talked for hours. sometimes he would lean in to show you specific lines and you'd get the soft lingers of his scent, the smell of old books and leather. you clenched your thighs harder everytime his fingertips would graze over yours. but eventually he had to go because he had class, "hey, i loved talking to you. i'm-"

"y/n. i know." he said, smiling as he offered his hand to shake yours. you wheezed lightly before you shook his hand playfully, giving it a large shake.

"i'm-"

"megumi. i know." you smiled back, as his grin reached his eyes. he left as you stood there, watching his tall figure dissapear as you sighed and looked at your hands, to feel the lingering warmth of his hands. saddness engulfed you as you realized he may not feel the same way towards you like you felt for him. to be honest, you didn't know how you felt for him.

your eyes would always search for him as a habit everytime you entred a room. and your heart would slump if you didn't see him, and flutter if you did. how you would imagine him doing the most filthiest things to you and the most romantic things known to man. maybe he felt the complete opposite way towards you. maybe he thinks you're obnioxious, or lazy, or dumb. your mood worsened as you leaned in to cross your elbows to rest your head but your eyes shifted to the table to see megumi's book in the table.

you looked up to see if you could find him but he wasn't there. you slumped back to your seat as you texted nobara.

you

Hey, send me fushiguro's number

kugisaki

ooohh mama's getting some actionnnn

you

just give it to me

kugisaki

444-781 get laid, your uptight ass really needs it. i hope the sex is as good as they say

you frowned as you saved his number. "as good as they say...?" you mumbled, as you texted nobara again. apparently, there were rumours and back-talking from the previous girls that megumi slept with that he was a bit too rough. a lot of hair pulling, grabbing and the fact that the girls couldn't walk for hours or days after they 'did it'. you blushed furiously as nobara texted you those things.

Kugisaki

didn't you say you like those kinds of dom sub thing?

You

OH MY GOD! NOBARA I regret sharing anything with you

Kugisaki

I will tell him hehehe Anyways, listen. Get laid, and text me how it was.

You

you get laid. mother fucker

Kugisaki

love you too babes <3

you looked at the book for a brief second before you snatched it and walked to your class. you waiting till the dormatory closed up and sneaked into the mens dorm. you slithered to the check room to find megumi's room. fushiguro 444, you kept whispering as you went through the dorm numbers. you found the dorm room as you sighed, fixing your oversized t-shirt and shorts and hair. you knocked slightly standing there in the dark as you shifted on your feet. you went to knock again, but before your knuckles touched the door it flew open.

a naked megumi, dripping wet and only a white towel wrapped lowly around his waist, his v-cut dripping through and a tattoo showing through the towel around his lower torso. "y/n?" his voice snapped your eyes back to his blue ones. your breathing hitched as you looked at his face. slightly flushed and his glasses fogged up and wet, dripping like his perfectly chissled abs. "what are you- how did you get in?" he whisper-shouted, the spare towel drying his hair.

"i sneaked in." you whispered back, "you left your book," you said, extending your hand and presenting him his book. his eyes lowered to your hand, and then to your bare legs and slowly got up, checking you out. his gaze lingered on your breasts before they went to your eyes and your bright red cheeks. "take it." you said, shooving it in him.

"you came all the way here for the book?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe as he cleaned his glasses and put the spare towel on his shoulder. a small smirk placed on his lips as his slender fingers gently caressed his chin. his slight subtle showing from his wet face. "speak up, y/n."

your mind jumbled as you opened your mouth but no words came, you closed your mouth with a tick from your jaw, so you tried again. "i couldn't sleep with it in my mind." he leaned closer, his face inches away from your eyes as your eyes shifted from his eyes to his lips nervously. you gulped as you tried to back up but your feet wouldn't buldge.

"that's it? that's all that was on your mind?" he whispered, his hot breath hitting your lips as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and praying this was a dream.

"that's all." you said turning away and walking away with a huge pang in your chest. you flinched as his hand grabbed your wrist making me turn, "megumi!" you whisper-shouted.

"that's all?" he asked, his mouth inches away from yours. your breathing hitched as your eyes travelled down to his full pink lips, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply looking at your flushed face and eyes which were focused on his glossed lips. "nothing else?" his voice barely a whisper as you flinched when the lights suddenly flickered from the storm outside.

"i have to go." you said in a shaky breath, "they will close the dorm gates." he frowned looking at your stilled face. his hand squeezing into your arm creating a small bruise, "megumi..." you whimpered, your hands overlapping his as you squeezed it, trying to loosen his grip. "let go of me."

his eyes snapped to your arm and he let go, clearing his throat and taking a few steps back, scratching the back of his neck he looked at you with a different look. before his sapphire eyes always trembled when they found yours, but now they held a darker shade and stilled, focusing on you with his pupils dialated.

"i'm sorry," he mumbled, "see you in class." he said, turning away with a pang in his heart, and a mutual one for you. for the next few days, you avoided megumi like he was the plague. whenever you would see him in a room, you ran to a different one. your hands shook if you two were in a close proximity, even with friends. you didn't understand if it was attraction or something else.

you looked in the mirror before you went to class, you got a letter from the dean regarding a complaint and you had to see him today so you dressed more appropriate and formal than your usual hoodie and dark washed jeans. the short plaid skirt, matched with a white blouse and a leather jacket and a lose tie to add everything together, you sighed pushing your dark hair away from your face.

back in the dean's office, you opened the door with shaky hands to see the older man. another person sat in front of him, megumi. your heart beat fastened up as your eyes widened. "mr. yoshinobu," you said, sitting beside megumi who looked even hotter with his red star wars hoddie and black sweatpants. you clenched your thighs as you looked at the dean.

"there was a rumor that you broke into the men's dorm, ms. y/n. is that true?"

about thirty minutes of lying and denying you and megumi were finally out. your heart was beating so fast from this, megumi, how the heat between your legs were spreading and you could practically feel the slick drop down your thighs. you breathed heavily, standing in front of the massive doors to the dean's office and just blankly stared at the wall.

"come with me." he said, pulling your wrist again. you yelped as he dragged you to the storage room on the opposite side of the hallway. he yanked you inside and closed the door, locking it with a swift movement of his hand, your eyes widened as you frowned. "a trick satorou taught me. nothin' special." he said, leaning against the door. "now tell me, why have you been ignoring me?"

"ignoring you?" you scoffed, "no! i've just... been busy." you shrugged, crossing your hands over your chest as you got pushed into the wall by his tall stature.

"hmm." he said, leaning down to look at you deeply, his nose grazing against yours as he bend at the waist, "y/n... you're gonna ruin me." you couldn't process his words before he smashed his lips into yours. your eyes widened as you melted into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his raven hair as you moaned into his mouth, making his groan and push you further into the wall, his large hands taking your leather jacket off. it fell on the ground with a cackling noise as you catched your breath.

"megumi... not here!" you whisper-shouted as his fingers worked your blouse buttons.

"yes here." he said breathlessly and kissed you again. this time softer and more passionate, he slowly pulled your bra down, making your boobs pop out as he gently massaged them. he broke the kiss off, admiring your assests for a while before his lips latched onto your nipples. his teeth grazed on as you whimpered, your hand wrapping around his hair as you bit your lips.

his spare hand went up your thighs, sliding your panties to the side before he gently circled your wet cunt. your hips bucked to feel his touch more. he let out a dark chuckle as he inserted a finger inside, slowly pumping in and out. his thick rimmed glasses already fogging up at the bottom. he increased the pace as your moans got louder and quicker, he added another digit making your legs shake as you screamed into his chest, muffling the sound as he kissed your cheek. "shh... shh... it's okay, let it out, y/n. let it out." he cooed, letting you ride his hands as your slick and come dripped down his hand. "let me take care of you." he whispered, his thumb circling your bud, you whimpered, gripping onto his arm for support as you breathed heavily.

"next time, we're doing more." he whispered as he placed a soft kiss in your cheek before leaving the storage room. you stood for a moment buttoning up the rest of your blouse as you took in a deep breath.

what the fuck just happened?

sorry this was a bit too long! but yeah, hope you enjoy the little star wars references in there too haha. lmk what you guys think! g'day<33

#nerd!megumi #someone find me a hot kinky nerd #star wars fandom arise #star wars #megumi #megumi smut #megumi jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #notsfw #gojo smut #nsfr #requests open

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maddipoof · 17 days

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i hope all the people— who went insane over 3 men wanting to sustain their entertainment company by asking for people to share a $6/month subscription with as many friends as they want—feel like a real bitch right now

#if you don’t understand how an apology works and never watch them again out of ”principle”#then i wonder how you carry on any human relationship #mara’s mumblings #watcher #puppet history #ghost files

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kimi240302 · 10 months

Text

Losing Game

A/N: Before you read this story, be aware I am from Germany and can't write a bit of English. That's why I'm sending this through an app that translates it for me.

A/N2.0: In this story, the characters are all a little older.

A/N3.0: After this part will come the epilogue, so please stay strong. Hopefully it will be worth it! Also, I have to thank you for all the notifications, as well as the great comments.

Summary: Y/N Swan tries everything to keep her promise to stay away from Demetri Volturi. But can you stay away from the man fate bound you to?

Demetri Volturi x Female!Swan!reader

Part 3 of Daylight Masterlist

Words: 2,6k

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Request list / Playlist

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There's darkness in the distance From the way that I've been livin' But I know I can't resist it

- David Kushner

"I still don't really understand why we're going to Volterra. It's just a small town in Tuscany. Why not go to France or......" "Mallorca!" Grinning, Y/N shook her head, knowing full well that Mick and Mara would start arguing again, as they had so often lately.

Tired, the young girl let herself sink more into the airplane seat, turning her head away from an annoyed groaning Mara, who mumbled to herself in a low voice, " I knew that shit would come from you." Mick, who had heard this, sat up straight in his seat, put his hands on Mara's seat, pulled himself up and slapped her, very gently, on the back of the head. Upset, the young girl turned around. "Are you out of your mind!" Mick rolled his eyes. "Don't be a drama queen. That was nothing more than a gentle pat, to the back of your head." Mara narrowed her eyes and slapped Mick against his forehead. Taken aback, the latter fell back in his seat. "Children, please. There are other people on this flight and our teacher is looking too!" Y/N looked at her two friends, amused. "He started it!" grumbled Mara. "You insulted me first!" "When are you two going to admit you're into each other, anyway?" The young Swan raised one of her eyebrows and looked back and forth between Mick and Mara in turn.

The two people in question first looked at each other, blushed, and then were looking anywhere but in each other's direction. Mara crossed her arms in front of her chest and scowled, turning her gaze to Y/N. "I don't take comments from someone who can't control their own love life." Still grinning to herself, Y/N watched as Mara put on her headphones and closed her eyes. After glancing back at Mick, she saw him looking out the plane window, lost in thought, and knew this school trip was going to be interesting.

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Lost in thought, Y/N turned her head to the window, where she looked at the clouds while putting on her headphones. Immediately, the young girl relaxed as the sounds of her favorite song poured from them. But even her music did not help to displace the lingering sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Her class teacher had heard that the somewhat smaller city of Volterra, in Italy, was one of the best cities when it came to art. Because no matter where you wandered or looked, the small town had its own story to tell, and it was in the form of art. So it was a done deal for her art fanatic of a teacher that her graduation trip would be to Volterra.

Y/N had to admit that what she had seen of the city, which was not much thanks to Bella, she really liked. But she didn't want to go where Demetri was and so the young girl hoped to get through her class trip in peace without any incidents and preferably without meeting any of the Volturi. Since her teacher hadn't gotten any more tickets for the castle tour, which was partly Y/N's fault, she could even play with that thought very hopefully.

But if Y/N was honest with herself, something deep inside her hoped to see Demetri again. Since their night together, the young girl had noticed him several times in the distance. However, each time the vampire had disappeared again just before she reached him. So Y/N could not even be one hundred percent sure whether Demetri had really been standing there or it had just been a fantasy of her mind.

Another thought that had come to her while thinking longer told her Demetri wanted to prove something to her in this form. The vampire wanted to show the young girl how much she missed him, how much she needed his closeness and his touch, and Y/N couldn't deny it. She missed him, more than she had ever thought possible and if Y/N could, she would tell him that he had won, that he could stop. But she was too stubborn to cave in and too loyal to break the last of her promise to Bella. Even though it was long gone, Y/N clung to the fact that Demetri was the one who always came to her, not she to him. Which, if you said it out loud, was complete bullshit, which is why Y/N never said it out loud.

Lost in thought, Y/N let her fingers run over the various books on the shelf in front of her. The young girl had been in Volterra for a day and had decided to isolate herself from the others. She couldn't explain it, but with each step she took on the streets of Volterra, an invisible sling seemed to tighten more and more around her neck. It felt wrong to be here and not to go to the castle and tell Demetri that she was in the same town as he was, right within his reach. The young girl had to literally force herself not to go up the stairs of the castle and run straight into the vampire's arms.

The only solution Y/N saw was to distract herself. She had hidden herself in a small library on the outskirts of the city to search through the shelves. Because in times when Y/N didn't know what to do, when reality became too serious for her and the problems too complicated, she found support and protection in the realities that her books created.

Smiling, Y/N stopped at an decorated spine, grabbed it, and pulled out the book. The light blue color of the book was faded and starting to fade in some places. Gently, Y/N's fingers slid over the cover of the book, looking fascinated at the black embroidery of rose vines. Carefully opening it, she skipped a few pages and began to read the prologue's ornate Italian script, which still shone in contrast to the yellowed page.

"I keep learning new things about you, la mia bella." Startled, Y/N winced, dropping the book as she did so. "Demetri..." Breathed the young girl after she turned around. Smiling, the vampire looked at her, bent down and picked up the book from the floor. "Libraries, I have a feeling this is a scene we should both be familiar with." He held the book out to Y/N, which she only looked at for a moment without taking it.

"What are you doing here?" Y/N asked in a trembling voice, immediately regretting her question. After all, Demetri lived in the city where she was a stranger, an intruder. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her with amusement. "I live in this city. Probably the better question is, what are you doing here in Volterra and did you mean to tell me you were here?" She opened her mouth to answer him. But no sentence came out, so she closed it again.

"Y/N?" Demetri lowered the book and took a step toward her. Y/N raised both hands and shook her head, taking several steps backwards. "I have to... my class is probably looking for me already." With that, she turned on her heels and fled the small place.

However, Y/N did not get far. Demetri, who had stood rooted to the spot in the store for a moment, had caught himself again, overtook her and pushed her into a hidden alley, where he pressed her against the wall. His eyes were almost shining and his anger was written all over his face, making Y/N sink slightly into herself, as far as Demetri's firm grip on both of her shoulders would allow.

"When are you going to stop running away from me! When will you stop trying to hide what we both know you feel the same way I do!" Frightened, the young girl winced and whimpered. "Demetri..." Angrily, he applied a little more pressure to her arms, which Y/N answered with a face contorted in pain. "You're hurting me and scaring me." Her voice barely noticeable and if Demetri wasn't a vampire, he wouldn't have heard her. Disappointed in himself, he let go of her, almost as if he had burned himself on her skin. Demetri backed away a few steps as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, cursing softly in ancient Greek.

The vampire turned to his mate, just dropped his hands from his hair to his sides and looked at her sadly. He felt powerless and defeated for the first time in his immortal life. "I just..." his voice broke off as he searched for the right words. "I just want to know if I should give up Y/N. I just want to know if I should let you go." Briefly, he looked at the ground, took an unnecessary breath that helped him get his nerves under control, and took the retreating steps forward again. Y/N stood, unable to move, still leaning against the wall. She had tears in her eyes that threatened to stream down her face any second.

Y/N had only ever thought about how she was feeling in this situation and never what Demetri was going through with this whole thing. Seeing him like this now and knowing that it was her fault broke her heart.

Carefully Demetri embraced the face of the woman he loves and automatically put his forehead against hers. "Tell me, is it worth continuing to fight or should I release you and disappear from your life?" Y/N clasped both of Demetri's wrists with her hands to find support. Her tears flowed, as silent cries of despair down her cheeks.

"I promised my sister." Her grip on both wrists tightened as her voice trembled more and more.

"What exactly Y/N. Not to be free? Not being able to make your own decisions, not being able to love, not being able to be happy? She's denying you what she has with Edward because it would be with me. Because it is me who is the villain from her point of view and she knows that you are loyal to her, which means you would never break your promise, no matter how unhappy that makes you. That's the power your sister has over you."

Demetri released his forehead from hers and looked into her eyes again. Gently, his fingers began to brush the tears from Y/N's cheeks. "The Volturi could be so much to you Y/N. Your friends, your allies, your supports, or even your family." He paused, making Y/N look closely into his eyes so she understood how much truth there was in his words. "I could be so much more. Your confidant, your lover, your husband, your forever. You just have to let it happen, you have to let your love for me happen." Y/N's tears grew more. "What if that's what scares me." "Everyone is afraid of what they don't know. Y/N you don't know what it feels like to be loved or what it's like to exist outside of your sister's shadow because you've lived in just that for too long."

Y/N broke eye contact with Demetri, loosened her hands and lowered her gaze. She didn't know what to say, she was confused and conflicted with her inner self at the same time. If she left with Demetri now, she would never see her family in Forks again. If she chose Bella again, she might lose Demetri forever.

For Demetri, however, her silence and distant behavior, was answer enough. In despair, the vampire closed his eyes and looked away. As he did so, he too removed his hands from her face. Y/N's gaze went up as she felt a breeze.

Demetri was gone.

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For a few moments, Y/N stared silently at the spot where Demetri had just been standing. Her tears began to become threefold as her mind understood what had just happened. The young girl dropped her face into her hands and could no longer avoid her bitter sobs. As she tried to get her breathing under control, her legs gave out from under her. Slowly, Y/N slid down the wall behind her. Once on the ground, she pulled her legs to her chest to regain some balance, but the tears only increased. The young girl became aware that she had lost the man who meant more to her than anything else.

She was aware that she had no one to blame but herself. Demetri had given her more than one chance to go with him, to be with him, and yet her loyalty to her sister, to whom she really meant nothing, had destroyed everything.

The young girl didn't know how long she had been leaning against the wall crying, but when she arrived in her room she knew it must have been a very long time. Mara and Mick were both sitting in the room the two friends shared, taking turns trying to reach Y/N on her cell phone. When they saw their friend, they both jumped up from their seats and approached her.

"Where were you Y/N?!" Mick placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing Y/N to look up at him. "We were worried about you you can't..." Mara who was standing behind Mick and was about to scold her best friend, dropped silent.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Mick's middle and began to cry again bitterly. "I lost him." She cried into her friend's chest. Startled, he hugged her back tightly and glanced over at Mara. The latter looked as startled as he was and pointed to the bed. Mick nodded, unfastening his and Y/N's arms to lift her up and lay her in the bed. There she immediately buried her face in the pillow while her hands clawed into the covers. Mara laid down on Y/N's right and pulled her into the middle, which Mick saw as an invitation to lie down on Y/N's left.

They both looked at each other and silently made the agreement to ask tomorrow what had happened and what exactly Y/N meant. Now they both just took her in their arms, turned out the lights and were silently there for their best friend.

With an aching head, Y/N was the first of the three friends to wake up in the early morning hours. Carefully, Y/N released herself from the arms of her friends and stood up. Smiling, she watched as Mick automatically reached for Mara and pulled her close. Which she returned with a hug and burying her face against his chest.

Quietly, the young girl tiptoed to the balcony door, which she carefully opened to step out into the fresh air. Outside, she sat down in the armchair that was identical to those on every other balcony in the hotel. With her eyes closed, she stretched her face toward the rising sun and breathed in the fresh air.

Y/N opened her eyes, however, startled when a shadow and a breeze flashed past her. Confused, she stood up and walked to the railing of the balcony, only to feel the breeze behind her again. Immediately she wheeled around and faltered. With hesitant steps she walked towards the table next to the armchair where she had been sitting a moment ago and grabbed the book where she was sure this had not been lying there a moment ago.

With a sigh, Y/N settled back into the chair as she recognized the light blue cover, with the rose vines embroidered on it. However, this one was not faded and still well intact. Y/N opened the book cover and faltered. With trembling hands, she took the note that had been placed there and read through it.

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all"

Confused, Y/N looked back at the book and closed her eyes sadly, for she had the uneasy feeling she was holding her goodbye gift in that moment.

This book is the property of Demetri Volturi, it was written in ink.

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@twilightlover2007 @ssnapsaurus @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx

@ms-sasa @elissanatok @helen06dreamer @animequeen454

@svtbpbts

#demetri volturi imagine #twilight x reader #demetri x reader #demetri volturi x reader #demetri volturi x y/n #demetri volturi #the volturi #volturi x reader #the volturi x reader #the volturi guard #Volturi Guard #twilight fanfiction #twilight masterlist #twilight imagine #twilight

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theunfocusedredmage · 1 year

Text

This just in on, I thought I was depressed but it turned out it was just mono

#mara mumbles #the tonsillitis is near unbearable

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yestrday · 6 months

Note

ouh oh eyeing the making them beg prompt RESPECTFULLY. not sure if the prompts are towards the chara or by them but if it's the first one.... blade and/or dan heng, maybe? holy moly when prideful/quiet men beg 🫣

no pressure pookie! i love ur works btw 🤍

ooh i do love me some bladie q(≧▽≦q) even if i do find him hard to write. dan heng was also supposed to be included but i accidentally published it :((

part of an ongoing event!

╰┈➤ BLADE of the Stellaron Hunters.

only metal bars separate the two of you in this musty dungeon cell, and they shake ferociously when your prisoner grabs them and bares his teeth at you between the gaps.

"you really think these trifling things will stop me from laying a hand on you?" from the shadows, his crimson gaze seems to be devouring you like he's the one watching the prison from the outside looking in. "you think anything can keep you safe from me, lamb?" he laughs lowly. "you're as naive as you look."

"not as naive then if i'm the one who has you locked up," you hum, twirling they key languidly around your finger as you shoot him a haughty smile. "we're destiny's slave, bladie. not slaves to our whims. you should've thought better before you went about attacking me."

he keeps quiet, but he continues to gaze at you with a look between obsession and hatred. little thought went into his actions when he tried for your neck with his broken blade. but you had been working with him and kafka for some time now, and it was agonizingly tantalizingly how clear his head felt at your slightest touch. it was a medicine better than kafka's whisper.

you must know the effects you have on him, from how you always smile and lean in for a touch before pulling away at the last second. you must have known how crazy you've had him for you, and it would have hurt his pride, had he not been reduced to a rabid mutt itching to get a pet from his master.

"i think i know what you want," you smile at him, leaning in close to the bars till he can feel your breath mingling with his shallow pants. "poor thing, the mara must be torture for you." you let your fingers trail over the space between his brows and — ah, there it is, that lightheaded feeling that he's been drunk on these past months. like floating through space, like death hath come, like peace at long last— till you pull away with a teasing smirk and the weight of a thousand hundred years comes crashing down on him again.

no. impossible. why would you take away heaven after he's finally had a taste? you bite back a laugh at the tortured expression on his handsome features, before they curl into cruel smile.

"beg." because of course you'd say that. aeons were never benevolent. why should heaven and its master be?

"... lease..." blade mumbles, pride choking his own words as if he hadn't been living without dignity all these years. "please, [y. name]. i need it. this thing you're doing to me..." he raises his head, and though remnants of bitterness light aflame at the back of his eyes, you see more of the broken man that he actually is. "whatever it is, i need it. badly."

your hand cups his chin and tilts it back to get a good look at his handsome face. sweet, sweet euphoria blooms in his mind, that blank feeling overwhelming every scream and torture that had taken over his mara-infected mind. that blissed out blank look, paired with a gaped and panting mouth, is too beautiful.

"how badly?" you whisper, though blade can barely register your words.

"more than i need death itself."

that's more than enough for you. sweetly, like a lover and not a master, you kiss him through the metal bars. you give him pleasure that has his whole body weak, and he slumps into the bars, kissing you back like he never wants to pull away.

at the back of his mind, he thinks of how this was the start of a worse torture than mara. because now that he'd gotten a slice of your heaven, every second apart from you would be worse than hell.

#yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr #honkai star rail #hsr blade #yandere x reader #yester.writes #yester.events

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underground-secret · 18 days

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader

Description: Sam's nightmare leads the group to Saginaw Michigan. But it's more than a nightmare and it's more than any ol' hunt. Things are revealed about the past as it sends them barreling into the future.

Warnings: Cannon violence, I might have gotten a little too carried away with the beginning scene sorry not sorry! flirtation, banter, mentions of su!cide, gore, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past abuse, guns, a roller coaster of emotions, and a lot of angst (no one can be happy...sorry!)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 9,912

Nightmare

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

I turn over in my bed, burying my head deeper into the pillows to ignore the loud and insistent banging from my door. I mumble incoherently into the covers, sleep having its claws so deep into my brain. “Please open the door, sweetheart. ‘m tryna give you privacy here but if this door isn’t open in five seconds I’m gonna use my key,” Dean warns loudly, his voice raspy. I hum softly into the bedding but make no move to get up, instead snuggling deeper into the blankets. The remains of sleep creep into the corners of my mind, hazing the rest of my brain.

Suddenly a gentle calloused hand is on my bare shoulder, “Come on baby, as much as I wanna let you sleep Sammy needs us to hurry.”

“Mhm,” I hum halfheartedly, digging myself further into the bed if possible. “Alright that’s it,” he says finally. There's some shuffling before the covers are pulled back, a rush of cold air prickling my exposed legs followed by the warmth of his hands dragging up and down my calves slowly before leaving to pull down my slip nightgown further past my butt. That wakes me up. My eyes flutter open, and as much as I loved my little cotton nightgown every time I wore it to bed I woke up to a full tit out and the bottom up at my hips. Luckily this time I didn’t think it rode up so high, it had only felt like it was just barely covering my butt, so at the most, he saw a flash of my underwear which is not the most ideal thing to happen, and also insanely embarrassing but at least I was wearing one of my cute pairs. And at least he didn’t comment on it, except he did pull it down further which means he probably did see…oh god.

“Okay! I’m awake Dean!” I say, my words half mumbled by the bed but if I turned over he would also be seeing a boob today and he had seen enough already. His hands grip my ankles, his thumbs rubbing my skin, oh lord. No. I have to focus…and not on how butterflies are erupting in my stomach, fluttering around frantically, “Not convinced baby, not until I see you get up,” he conceded. He was really playing with my resolve and it was a very fickle thing to begin with.

“Yeah, so if I flip myself around you’d be getting flashed. These nightgowns…just you know…” I admit, my face warm for two different reasons. His thumbs pause and I can practically hear the arch of his brow and that devilish smirk, “By all means, continue…”

“Dean,” I warn.

“I really wouldn’t object to it, wouldn’t complain one bit,” he comments, his voice dripping with amusement. “Dean!” His hands leave me entirely and I suddenly miss the warmth he brought, “Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I’ll go, be waitin’ in the car. I’d hurry though Sam’s freaking out about needing to leave but won't say anythin’ more.”

The initial embarrassment of being woken up the way I was or at least the result of that, as well as being a little “late” had long worn off except for when Dean caught my eyes in the rearview mirror then it all came rushing back. But I needed to screw my head on right, and not get distracted by his playful teasing manner, he was most likely compensating for the fact that he had to say goodbye to the woman he loved again. Ending on good terms aside those feelings don’t just magically disappear especially when it only happened recently. Either way, I was thankful for the nightfall's darkness, because with each gaze my face heated up even if it was against my better judgment.

I needed to focus.

Sam had his ear pressed into his phone, reading from a fake ID to potentially give real information, “McReady. Detective McReady, badge number 158. I’ve got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven…Yeah okay, just hurry.”

Dean glances over at his brother, concern written in his eyes, “Sammy relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam remarks.

“You know considering he was right about your old house I’m pretty much convinced he’s right about this one too,” I add. Dean adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, “It could also just be a dream. Y’know, a normal everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out. You’ll see,” Dean tries to reason though I can't understand why he won’t accept that Sam has been right before and will be right again, my only guess would be fear.

“I mean I suppose,” I shrug, “but even just logically speaking unless you’re lucid dreaming you can’t read in your sleep, as the part of your brain that’s responsible for logic and intellect shuts down. So following that logic, he wouldn’t have been able to read or understand that license plate, that fact must hold some merit here.”

“Alright, maybe he was lucid dreamin’ then,” Dean suggests instead, finding any reason for his brother not to be a psychic.

“It felt different Dean. Real,” Sam shakes his head, eyes focused as he tries to explain, “Like when I dreamt about the old house and Jessica.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend,” Dean points out, “This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Sam responds.

“It doesn't matter if you've actually seen someone they can still be in your dreams because when you're walking around you're subconsciously watching and cataloging them,” I explain, “Though of course you're most likely to have dreams about people you see or think about more often, but still people you pass in real life can be in your dream.” Dean catches my eyes again in the mirror, gazing at me questioningly, “Why do you know so much about dreams?”

I shrug, “I don't know, it’s interesting so I just go down a rabbit hole of information. Plus there are a lot of psychological aspects to dreams which can make them important to analysis.” Dean shakes his head as if shaking away the information, “So why would he have premonitions about some random dude from Michigan.”

I rub my eyes, tiredness still trying to cling to me to the point of my eyes aching, “Yeah I don’t have an answer to that one.” Dean turns his gaze to his brother, silently asking him the same question, “I don’t know,” he answers. “Me neither,” Dean shrugs with one shoulder though it was more done to prove his point.

“Yes I’m here,” Sam says suddenly, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He goes silent, listening, then throws a glare at Dean and picks up his pen, “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. ‘You have a street address?… Got it. Thanks.” He moves his phone away from him, clicking a button, most likely hanging up, “Checks out. How far are we?”

“From Saginaw? Coupla hours,” Dean answers. “Drive faster.”

The Impala cruises to a stop, Emergency vehicles lined up followed by two medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a body bag on it just being zippered. We were late and it was hard to know whether it was by a couple of minutes or hours, but it didn’t matter because we were late and someone was dead.

We approach the crowd, a couple of neighbors dressed in their pajamas and a coat watching the scene from behind a line of caution tape. “What happened?” Dean asks a nearby woman.

“Suicide,” she answers, “Can’t believe it.”

“Did you know them?” Sam questions, moving to the woman’s other side.

She frowns, “‘Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s,” she replies, oversharing to a couple of strangers but it was helpful so there was no way we would tell her to stop, “He always seems…seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Guess not,” Dean acknowledges, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly, maybe she didn’t know the guy so well but seeing him weekly still meant something. She nods in thanks.

“How did…uhh” Sam stammers, “How are they saying it happened?” It was a total conversation turn but once more it was necessary. “I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running,” she answers. Carbon dioxide poisoning from a car makes it hard for it to be an accident so of course the initial thought would be suicide and I doubt it would be easy to prove otherwise with a death like that.

“Do you know about what time they found him,” Sam pushes and I hope she doesn’t think we’re being weird about this and asking a little too many questions. “Oh, ‘just happened about an hour or two ago,” she says. Frick, frick that wasn’t long ago at all. “His poor family,” she continues, “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.” I follow her gaze to a woman standing on the front steps crying against a middle-aged man. A young distraught man stands behind them. I could imagine what they were feeling and it was horrible. Grief was not pretty and those feelings were even uglier, leaving a permanent mark on your heart.

Someone tugs on my sweatshirt sleeve, I follow the motion watching Dean walk away following his brother who had stormed away. I follow them, making the quick walk to the Impala.

“Sam we got here as fast as we could,” Dean reasons.

“Not fast enough,” Sam shakes his head, a pained look painted on his face, “It doesn’t make any sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn’t a chance I could stop them from happening.”

I bit my lips, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Maybe it wasn’t about him exactly, like maybe it’s bigger than that. Sometimes that happens, remember what I said about oneiromancy or using dreams to predict the future? Well sometimes it’s not so literal, sometimes it serves as a warning or pointing you in a specific direction for whatever reason. Now I know your whole thing is different and more detailed than that but do you get what I mean?”

He nods, clearly thinking it over. “I don’t know though, I’m no expert but I’m just tryna say to keep it in mind,” I add. He shakes his head and sighs, “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” Dean suggests, “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Then why would he have such a vivid dream of just some random dude dying?” I point out, immediately realizing my contradiction. “I dunno,” Dean shrugs, “Maybe it’s like you said, it’s pointing to somethin’ else.”

“I watched it happen. He was murdered by something. I watched it trap him in the garage,” Sam explains.

“What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?” Dean asks in rapid succession. Sam huffs, “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening!” He was freaking out, totally and utterly freaking out and he had every right to be. “It’s alright Sam,” I say softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. ‘No matter how long it takes.”

He sighs, mumbling a “Thanks.” I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, I always knew who I was even if nobody else did. To know one thing your whole life just to be thrown onto a totally new path with no explanation must be terrifying. “What,” Sam says suddenly throwing a look at his brother who was just staring at him. Dean shrugs, “Nothing. I’m just, I’m worried about you man,” he confesses.

“Well don’t look at me like that!” Sam yells. Dean looks away, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he retorts, glancing back, “Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Dean. Really?” I say.

“Nice. Thanks,” Sam replies, pursing his lips. With a small smile, Dean moves to the driver's side of the car, pulling the door open, “Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, talk to the family.”

“Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not going to want to talk to us,” Sam reasons. Dean pauses in thought, “Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to.”

I scoff, “Who?”

I pull open my motel door, the sun shining brightly behind the man in front of me highlighting his stunning green eyes. His arms are hidden behind his back, “What do you have there?” I ask, squinting at him suspiciously. “Oh, just a little somethin’” he smirks devilishly, gazing down at me.

“You’re scaring me,” I admit, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he grins revealing what he was hiding. He holds up a rectangular Halloween costume bag, the classic orange logo on the top, and a blonde woman in a nun costume holding a ruler on the other side. I look between him and the bag his smile never leaving his face a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “Sam and I are going as Preiests so we need our nun,” he explains.

“Tell me you're joking,” I say blankly, my face falling.

“Not at all sweetheart.”

I huff a laugh, pointing at the bag, “I’m not wearing that.”

“You gotta,” he replies.

“No offense to the nuns of the world, but I would rather be shot dead than wear that.”

“‘Cause it’s not cute?” Dean asks though it comes off more like a statement as he knows my answer. “Yes,” I answer flatly, “I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe I shoulda picked up the slutty one,” he retorts, thinking he got me there. I cross my arms across my chest, wetting my lips, “You should’ve, ‘be good for Halloween,” I counter. Checkmate. He drags his eyes across my frame. my face heats up, “While I’d love to see to that, Halloween is months away and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Still not wearing it,” I say as sternly as I can manage, which isn’t very considering my mind trying to compute what he said. “Come on,” he grumbles, “what am I gonn’ do with a nun costume now?” He pushes past me, stepping deeper into the room. I close the door, turning around, “I don't know, return it? Or use it for one of your one-night stands, I’m sure you’ll find someone kinky enough.”

He looks at me blankly, deadpanning, “You’re wearing it.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll just sit this one out, wait in the car or something ‘till you’re done,” I say.

“You’re wearing it,” he repeats.

“No”

“Yes”

“You’re not winning this one!” I throw my hands up.

“Y/N come on!”

“No!”

He groans, annoyed, “If you wear it I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”

Oh. I mean it’s only a couple of minutes of embarrassment and ugly clothing, “Okay, deal. Fine.” His wide grin returns, he throws the bag at me and I catch it, looking down at it with disgust. “‘Not gonna bite sweetheart,” Dean says as he heads out.

“Yeah, but I might,” I mumble.

I fixed the Coif on my head for the hundredth time, I should’ve put more bobby pins in my hair. God. How did Nuns wear these? It just digs into your scalp and the most hair you could show was just the very top, probably about three inches, the rest of your hair was hidden along with your ears. It was the least cute or sexy thing to ever exist, faces were not being framed.

“Quit poutin’, you're supposed to be a Nun, be happy,” Dean comments as he rounds the car.

“I look like I'm going to burn myself at the stake,” I huff.

Sam laughs, having to bite back the noise. “You look fine,” Dean says. I look down at myself, the long black dress covering everything down at my ankles and a strange-looking white squared bib thing around my neck, “Who are you lying to right now!”

Dean huffs frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“At least you guys look good, like really good,” I say maybe a little too honestly. Sam had his hair all jelled back in a cute little hairdo, he was quite adorable. And on the other side, it really must have been the all-black attire, forget about the clerical cuff and that damn silver ring on his finger that made Dean look so good. Otherwise, there was something deeply wrong with me and I’d have to reevaluate my life, ‘cause there should be no reason for a “Priest” to look so damn fine. Lord, I need help.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Dean declares. He leads the way crossing the street and walking right up the porch, he rings the doorbell that silver ring glinting in the light. Sam sighs, “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Amen,” I mumble.

The door opens slowly and I throw away my pout replacing it with a kind smile. The older man from yesterday stands at the door, blocking our view of the rest of the house. Now that it wasn’t dark out and I was far closer, I was able to take note of him: a round-faced man with dark eyebrows and a sort of buzzcut.“Good afternoon,” Dean starts, “I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and this is Sister Kathern We’re new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?”

The man nods, stepping aside. “Thanks,” Dean says entering first. I give the man a polite nod, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed,” Dean adds.

“Look, you wanna pitch your whole ‘Lord has a plan’ thing? Fine. Just don’t pitch it to me. My brother’s dead,” the man spits, his face wobbling with choked emotion. An older blonde woman appears, her soft hair only reaching her shoulders, her eyes etched in sadness, “Roger. Please!” she lectures. Roger moves away, escaping to some other part of the house, “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s…he’s just so upset about Jim’s death,” she explains.

“You don’t have to apologize, we completely understand. Everyone grieves differently,” I say sincerely. Her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face, “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Dean answers.

****

I sit next to Sam on the loveseat, Dean beside him in an armchair. Ms. Miller pours coffee gently into a couple of little white mugs, she hands one to each of us, “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all God’s children,” Dean replies smoothly, taking a sip of the black coffee. She stands up taking the coffee pot with her. Dean takes that opportunity to shove a bunch of cocktail sausages into his mouth, he was really taking advantage of her leaving food out on a little platter. “What?” he asks with a mouthful of food, responding to his brothers staring. “Just…tone it down a little bit, Father,” he responds.

Ms. Miller returns then, emptyhanded, she sits back down. Dean swallows his mouth full of food before talking again, “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that,” she answers her eyes already tearing up, “We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy,” the tears run rapidly down her face, “I just don’t understand…how Jim could do something like this.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam replies sincerely. She wipes her tear-stained face, gesturing behind her, “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?” Sam asks.

“Oh thank you, Father,” she musters a sad smile. He rises, following the direction she pointed.

“Ms.Miller you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?” Dean inquires.

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answers.

“The only problem with these old homes, ‘bet it gives you all kinds of headaches,” he comments. Her face washes over in confusion, “Like what?”

“Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night,” he lists, “That kind of thing.”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, “May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it’s just up the stairs,” she says. He nods, rising and taking another cocktail sausage before leaving. Now I was left to fend for myself in a social situation I wasn't totally prepared for. What do I say? “Is there anything I could do for you that might make you feel better? I understand how hard it is now.”

She tears up again, “I don’t know.” I lean over placing a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s okay…it’s okay," I say softly.

I enter the boy's motel room, following Sam. We had just come back from researching about the Miller’s house. I close and lock the door behind me, so grateful that I had been out of that nun outfit for more than an hour. “What do you have?” Dean asks, his entire arsenal spread out around him as he sits on the edge of the bed cleaning a gun. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he works the weapons, I have to force my gaze away. Men should not be allowed to look good doing random tasks, it wasn’t fair.

“A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam answers sinking onto his bed.

“What about the land?” Dean questions further.

“Nope,” I say, “There were no battles or graveyards, it’s not tribal land and no kind of atrocities happened on or near the property.”

“Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada,” Dean adds.

“And the family said everything was normal?” Sam checks.

“Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the inferred thermal scanner man, and there was nothing,” Dean answers.

I sigh moving to sit at the end of Sam's bed, “Back to square one.”

“So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?” Sam questions.

“I dunno,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam gets a pained look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temples, “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house,” he inhales sharply holding his head, “Maybe it’s just…Gosh,” he clutches his head, “... Maybe its connected to Jim in some other way?”

“Sammy you okay?” I ask, placing a careful hand on his bicep just as Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” I throw him a sharp glare, way to word it. Sam makes strained pained noises, sinking to the floor, “My head.”

Dean practically jumps from his bed, “Sam? Hey,” he sinks right next to his brother in a crouch grabbing Sam’s arms, “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I stand up concern running through my blood, “Sam! Come on!” I've never seen something like this before, it was completely foreign which only made it more terrifying. Dean throws a pleading look at me and I stand not knowing what to do, “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He turns back to his brother, not saying anything as he holds on to him.

Then, Sam slowly removes his hands from his head, focusing back on reality as he warns, “It’s happening again. Something’s gunna kill Roger Miller.”

My leg bounces in the back seat. once more we were running against an invisible and unknown clock, running to save someone with little to no information given. And once more Sams is on the phone trying to get information quickly that will help us, “Roger Miller. Uh no no, just the address, please. Ok, thanks.” He goes quiet with the information before hanging up and reciting it, “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”

“You ok?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother in quick succession.

“Yeah,” he answers in the least convincing tone possible.

“If you’re gunna hurl I’ll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…” Dean says, not really joking.

“I’m fine,” Sam answers still not convincingly enough.

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, dropping it.

“Just drive,” he says, looking away. He sighs, “Look, I’m scared, alright? These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake? And it’s painful.”

“Come on man, you’ll be all right. It’ll be fine,” Dean comforts in his own way. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully, “Whatever these abilities are, they’re advancing which is why it’s breaching into day. And because it's leaning more toward psychic abilities it takes a great amount of will, and concentration, and puts a horrible strain on your mind which is why it's painful. But the more you work on it the better it’ll be.”

He turns around in the passenger seat, facing me, “You have telekinesis, right?” I nod, his eyebrows scrunch together, “It hurt when you were first started?”

“God, yes,” I laugh bittersweet, “It just requires so much focus, more so at first, that I had headaches constantly. I tried not to use too much Advil, but they were definitely making a profit off of me, that’s for sure.” He seems to consider the information, turning back in his seat, “Then what is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?!”

“I don’t know Sam but we’ll figure it out,” Dean answers, “We’ve faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing.”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out, Dean.”

Dean looks straight out the windshield silently, he couldn’t lie because Sam and I both witnessed him freak out before over it. Of course, then we’d all been younger, and he lashed out at me and when he left he hadn’t talked to me or apologized for months, I think it was about five. These sorts of things do freak him out, and sometimes I think the things I’m capable of doing still scare him sometimes, and that's just with someone he's friends with. With his brother, that fear must be a million times worse. “This doesn’t freak me out,” he finally says, lying.

****

The Impala pulls up across the street from Roger, who approaches his apartment's entrance with a bag of groceries in his hands. Sam rolls down the window swiftly yelling for the man, “Hey Roger.” The man turns around, the annoyance on his face clear as day, “What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone.”

I lean over rolling down the window opposite of where I sit, “Sir this has nothing to do with religion! Trust me.”

“Please,” Sam adds. But Roger is already gone, walking closer to his building. Suddenly the car jerks into motion the engine gunning as it makes a quick turn around, and with a bump Dean jumps the curve hurriedly parking as Sam jumps out running after the man, “Hey. Roger. We’re trying to help! Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I get out of the vehicle, round the black car, and head to Sam’s side, Dean following. As Sam reaches the entrance, Roger closes the door behind him, “I don’t want your help.” He walks deeper into the building and in a last-ditch effort Sam yells, “We’re not priests or nuns, you gotta listen to us!”

“Roger, you’re in danger!” Dean yells after him. But of course he doesn't hear them or if he does he just ignores the warnings. God people are so stubborn. “Come on,” Dean suddenly says looking towards a back entrance, he leads the way as we run around the corner of the building to the back entrance, a door in the way. With a quick look around Dean steps back and kicks it open, the door bursts open with a crack.

Sam jumps for the bottom ladder of the fire escape, using his tall frame to easily reach it, he pulls himself up and starts running for the stairs. Dean turns to me offering me a cupped hand, “You comin’?” he asks. I shake my head, pushing strands of hair behind my ear, “No you go, there isn't enough room for the three of us on that thing, you go. I’ll keep watch. He needs you.”

He looks me over, before nodding and jumping for the ladder, catching up to his brother swiftly. Against my better judgment instead of keeping watch, I look up at them, a hand blocking the sun as they make it up to the second floor. Then all of a sudden there's a heavy squeak and slide of a window followed by a wet squelching noise. Sam freezes, Dean sprints past him and stops looking down at something I can’t see from down here but even so, I know it is Roger’s severed head.

****

“I’m telling you there was nothing there. No signs either, just like the Miller’s house,” Dean informs, once more the three of us in the car this time driving back to the motel. Sam squints his eyes, slightly, in focus, “I saw something, in the vision, Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it’s not connected to their house?” Dean asks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“You know that argument doesn't really hold up anymore considering Roger died in his apartment,” I answer fidgeting with my fingers, “So it could be the family itself.”

“So you think, like a vengeful spirit?” Sam questions.

“Well yeah,” Dean responds, “There’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”

“Angiak. Banshees,” Sam lists out examples.

“Wouldn’t you have still picked up on something when you were snooping around?” I ask this time, looking up from my hands. “No, I was thinking somethin’ more like a curse,” Dean explains, “Maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy.”

Sam hums, adding to the working theory, “And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying…Hey, you think Max is danger?”

“Let’s figure it out before he is,” Dean remarks. Sam sighs, “Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Both our families are cursed,” Sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, one because he feels that way and two because I dislike when people say that. Dean huffs, “Our family’s not cursed! We just…had our dark spots…”

“Our dark spots are…pretty dark,” Sam nods slowly. Dean eyes him, “You’re….dark.”

I scuff, “Well as dark as it was you don’t have to worry, curses aren’t real.”

Sam turns around in his seat, facing me, “You’re a witch and you don’t believe in curses?”

I tilt my head giving him a ‘really?’ look, “That’s not what I meant, of course those kinds of curses exist they are very real and palpable things,” I wet my lips, “What I meant is that this curse you suggest to be the reason why you suffered misfortune isn’t real and that goes for everybody. Bad things just happen. And I know you probably weren’t being too literal but still blaming bad things on curses doesn’t help you in the long run it just serves as an excuse for you not to face your problems and acknowledge the real issue.”

Sam looks at me with slightly wide eyes and when I look at Dean, his expression is more or less the same if not even more, “What?” I ask eyeing the two of them. Sam turns back around in his seat a small smirk on his face, Dean gives a little shrug, “Nothin’, just someone’s using their psychology degree.”

I snort, suddenly getting shy, “Shut up,” I mumble. The thing was I wasn’t using my psychology degree this was just me, not that I was embarrassed by my degree. I took education very seriously, especially college. So of course I wound up double majoring, one in criminal justice and the other in psychology, but could you blame a girl? Either way, I didn't like when people said things like that, blaming something on a force they didn’t understand and had no real play in any of it.

I pull down the sleeves of the black Nun dress, readjusting the material, “I hope you know this is another book,” I say closing the car door behind me. Dean seems to round the Impala quicker at that, “What?! No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

I purse my lips, “Yes, but when we made that deal it was under the presumption that it would only happen once in this case. And yet, here we are again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but his brother cuts him off, “Wait, you guys made a deal?”

I smile triumphantly, “Yup!”

Sam frowns a little pout to his lips, his puppy-dog eyes turned down, “Man,” he whines, “I should’ve made a deal.”

“You should’ve,” I respond, thinking for a moment, “You know what? I will extend my second book to you, you are now included!”

He shakes his head, “No Y/N it's okay, have your books.”

Now I shake my head, “No no I want to, nothing would bring me more joy than the three of us going to a bookstore, and while Dean impatiently waits for us and grumbles to himself we get to wreak havoc and choose books!” Sam smiles with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “That does sound like a good idea.”

“You’re an evil woman,” Dean grumbles.

I smile sweetly at him, “I prefer ‘wicked’ but I guess that’s close enough.”

He eyes me for a beat, tongue against cheek as if he is contemplating saying something but ultimately he looks away, “We’re meant to be checking in on Max.”

Oh, “Yeah,” I say leading the way. “See, this always happens,” he states, reaching my side in one stride.

“What happens?” Sam asks.

“Whenever you two are together we get nothing done,” he elaborates. I fake a hurt gasp, “That’s so not true!” I mean we could be annoying, sure, but that was our whole job especially since we’re younger siblings it’s just how it works.

We reach the door and he knocks before anyone can say anything more on the topic. Instead of Ms. Miller answering the door her son, Max, does. He opens the door wider, “My Mom’s resting, she’s pretty wrecked.”

“Of course,” Dean nods, stepping deeper into the house.

“All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?” Max says, making small talk, “I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says I’m sorry like a tuna casserole.” I bite back my laugh, very poorly, he caught it giving a smile back to me and Sam who was also grinning at the joke. Max gestures to the seating area his mom put us just earlier today, and just like then we all take the same seats, but this time it's Max in front of us.

A beat of silence goes on before Sam sighs, speaking softly he asks, “How ‘you holding up?”

His face drops a little, answering with a small, “Ok.”

“You’re Dad and your uncle were close,” Sam follows up, stating instead of asking.

He shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.”

“But not much lately?” Sam asks.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he shifts in his seat, “We used to be neighbors when I was a kid before we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.”

“Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?” Sam questions further.

“It was fine. Why?” Max answers, dismissively. He was uncomfortable, something about that old house made him uneasy.

“All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?” Dean asks this time, skepticism written in his voice. Max shakes his head, slight panic crawling in his irises, “What do yo…..why do you ask?”

I recognized that panic. Knew it well. I remember wearing it, how it crawled over my skin. “Don’t worry it’s just a question,” I nod, noting his behavior.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy,” he replies suddenly more sure of his answer.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean answers, “Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off.”

Catching on Sam nods, “Right,” he looks back at Max, “thanks.”

Max eyes us, something between panic and questioning, “Yeah.”

****

We make it to the Imapla before debriefing, the panic in his eyes burning into my retinas.

“No one’s family is totally normal and happy,” Dean starts, pointing out the faults of Max’s response, “See when he was talking about his old house?”

“He sounded scared,” Sam answers sadly.

A chill runs up my spine, “More than that, he was petrified. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the house…”

“Yeah, Max isn’t telling us everything,” Dean agrees, “I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.”

I shift my footing, fixing my pants (which I was glad to be in again) as I watch the older man named Rob in front of us. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, almost 20 years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy,” he answers and I can’t tell if he wants us to be interested or wishes to keep out outsiders. Maybe the earlier, he seems kind.

“No, no,” Sam smiles, “Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” Dean adds.

“Yeah I remember,” he responds, “The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what’s this about, is that poor kid ok?” That makes me stumble over my thoughts, “He….um, I’m sorry why did you word it like that?”

Rob frowns, “Well in my life I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean I’d hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk.” My skin curls up, my fears confirmed. My heart recoils, cowering away from the information and the thoughts. “He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of,” Rob continued.

I take a subconscious step backward. I don’t understand, if he knew why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he call the police?

“This was going on regularly?” Sam asks, his voice firm.

“Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the sepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. He was finally free now but that was too many years too late.

“Now you said stepmother,” Dean says for confirmation. How could he not be reacting to this information?

“I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think,” Rob answers.

Suddenly Sam clutches his head again, grimacing. Rob looks at him strangely, “Are you okay there?”

He winces, “Uh, yeah.” Dean holds the crook of his brother's arm, leading him away as he throws back a “Thanks for your time.”

I blink out of what feels like a daze, mustering a smile for the man, “Have a nice day,” I say before catching up to the boys. But my feet feel heavy, as if cylinder blocks had been tied to my ankles. My intestines seem to twist itself into a knot, wrapped around like a bow. I clutch my shirt where my stomach is, my heart seems to beat faster an unnerving feeling settling itself into the vessels. I could hardly focus on my tense body and anxious thoughts when Sam’s head lulls back, his eyes doing that thing where you can tell he isn’t here with us right now. He’s somewhere else, having a vision.

****

I want to curl into myself and shy away from the current case. But we were in the Impala driving back to the Millers house and Sam still had to tell us about his vision. “Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing,” Sam reveals. I should be surprised but I’m not, maybe it’s because of the newfound information.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, almost skeptical.

“Yeah, I saw him,” he confirms.

“How is he doing it?” I ask carefully.

“I think telekinesis,” Sam answers.

“What so he’s psychic?” Dean questions, definitely skeptical.

“I didn’t even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died,” Sam elaborates, “These visions, this whole time–I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess—because we’re so alike?”

“What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you,” Dean responds firmly.

“Well,” Sam tries to reason, “We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

“Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third,” Dean exclaims. This was all getting very complicated very fast. “He’s not a monster he’s a kid. It isn’t his fault, he’s a product of his messed up childhood,” I defend, my voice filled with perhaps a little too much emotion.

“With what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane,” Sam adds, agreeing. I nod vigorously, it isn’t insane, not one bit.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family!” Dean yells, his voice louder than needed.

“No of course not. But clearly, no one else was caring about him. No one made any effort to help him, not even the police! So you must understand why he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands,” I argue. This was complicated, this was human. And humans, human feelings get messy very quickly.

“You're suggesting he's a necessary evil?” Dean counters, his voice gruff and on edge.

“Maybe, yeah,” I answer, crossing my arms across my chest. The car jerked right, driving up to the curb in front of the Miller’s house. “He’s no different from anything else we’ve hunted, all right? We gotta end him,” Dean lectured.

“We’re not going to kill Max,” Sam and I say at the same time, our voices overlapping. “He’s a kid!” I add.

“Then what?” Dean counters, “Hand him over to the cops and say ‘Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.’”

I huff, “That’s not the point and you know it. We can talk him down, he isn’t a monster and I highly doubt he would kill just for fun. He’s angry and he’s hurt, he needs help. If we do that then we are just as bad as his uncle and his dad and the cops that refused to help.”

He shuts the engine off, pursing his lips and shaking his head, “All right fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.” Yet, despite his words he leans over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol. He glares at Sam as he gets out of the car. I catch his eyes, “Dean.” He looks at me, challenging me, before ultimately getting out and tucking the gun into the back of his pants. I roll my eyes, tongue in cheek, pissed. I get out of the car, joining the boys but not before slamming the car door behind me.

We run up the porch, Sam in the lead. He knocks on the door, and when no response comes he leans over the railing peeking in the window. He looks back at us and he does not have to say anything for us to know what was happening. Max was going to kill his Stepmother.

Without thinking any further, Dean raises his leg to kick the door in. I stop him, “Dude way to be inconspicuous. Let me.” He backs up a few steps, hands raised in defeat. I grasp the cold knob of the door, not needing to put much effort into getting the door unlocked. We rush into the kitchen, where Sam said Max would do it. Ms. Miller presses her back closer against the counters, her eyes wide and filled with tears and fear as she watches her son in front of her. Her eyes snap to us, “Fathers? Sister?” Ironically enough, we weren’t dressed up instead in normal clothes which I wasn’t sure if priests and nuns ever did. Max spins around, poorly concealing the large knife behind his back, his hair is a mess and his eyes match his stepmothers in fear after all he was caught. “What are you doing here?” he asks, afraid.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt,” Dean answers awkwardly.

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam leads, fumbling for an excuse. He eyes us, he doesn’t trust us, “About what?”

“It’s….it’s private. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother with it,” Sam lies, “We won’t be long at all though, I promise” he says directing it to Ms.Miller. Max looks back at his stepmom and then at us, “Ok.”

“Great,” Sam smiles.

We turn to leave, making it out of the kitchen and to the front door. Dean takes the lead with his hand grasping the doorknob, pulling it open he smiles back at Max awkwardly. Then all of a sudden the doorknob is pulled from his grasp and the door slams shut, followed by the dropping of all the blinds for each window. Impressive. I turn around swiftly watching Max as he backs up, “You’re not priests! Or a nun,” he yells.

Dean draws his gun quickly, but without even moving a muscle Max uses his powers to pull the gun away, it slides across the floor and he crouches down to take it. He stands up tall, pointing the gun at us. Dean nudges me slightly behind him, I want to shove my way in front of him but he holds his arm out in front of me and I don’t feel the need to argue now of all times. Ms.Miller appears in the archway between where we are and the kitchen, “Max, what’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he bites.

“What are you doing?” she repeats, approaching carefully. Removing one hand from the gun he swings his arm towards her, using his power to send her flying back into the kitchen, she hits her head against the kitchen bench before sliding down to the floor. “I said shut up!” he yells at her unconscious figure.

“Max calm down,” Sam says steadily, holding his hands up in defeat.

“Who are you?” Max snaps.

“We just wanna talk,” Sam responds with instead. Max scuffs, “Yeah right, that’s right you bought this!” he motions with the weapon. Sam takes a careful step forward, “That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out.”

He eyes us carefully, “About what?”

“I saw you do it,” Sam explains, carefully, “I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened.”

“What?” Max questions.

“I’m having visions Max, about you,” Sam elaborates.

“You’re crazy,” Maxx huffs.

“So what, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” He challenges, taping his eye, “Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max I was drawn here, all right? I think I’m here to help you.”

His hold on the gun tightens as fresh tears run down his face rapidly, “No one can help me.”

“That’s not true,” I say softly, “I know it feels that way now, and I’m sorry it does. But if anyone can help,” I look at Sam, “It’s him,” I look back at Max, “Please.”

Sam nods, wetting his lips, “Let me try. We’ll just talk, me and you. We’ll get Dean, Y/N, and Alice out of here.”

“Uh-huh. No way,” Dean intervenes. The chandelier above us rattles, “Nobody leaves this house!” Max yells. I want to cut in, I could contain him in a matter of seconds a minute at best. He was skilled, but I certainly knew more than he did. Yet I know I can’t do anything, he’s scared so rushing him with my abilities won’t help. Treating him like a monster won’t help.

“And nobody has to, all right? They’ll just…they’ll just go upstairs,” Sam reasons, but the light fixture continues to rattle.

“Sam, I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Dean mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Sam answers firmly, “Look, Max. You’re in charge here, all right, we know that. No one's going to do anything that you don’t want to do but I’m talking five minutes here man.”

“Sam!” Dean intervenes again. I place a hand on his upper arm, gaining his attention fast and without words, not wanting to scare Max off, I give him a look and a nod silently telling him that his brother will be okay and that he can handle himself. His lip twitches as if he’s fitting off a scowl.

“Five minutes?” Max asks, the chandelier stops shaking, “Go” he nods to his stepmother.

I walk carefully behind Dean, waiting for him as he picks up Ms. Miller, I lead the way up the wooden stairs entering the master bedroom. Dean lays her down carefully, and I find the bathroom attached to the room. I quickly go through the drawers finding a small washcloth, carefully I wet it and ring it out before walking back into the bedroom to find Dean pacing the room, hand by his face. I approach him carefully, he stops his pacing when I step in front of him but worry is written clearly in his eyes, and in the way he hasn’t stopped biting his thumbs nailbed, a habit he exhibited only when he was worried about Sammy.

I raise my free hand to him, pulling it away from his mouth, “He’ll be okay, he knows what he's doing.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he takes the washcloth from me before moving past me, he crouches in front of Ms.Miller, lightly pressing the cloth to the small wound on her forehead. He was distracting himself.

I frown. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his brother, he was just worried. For as much as this was for Sam it was nearly too much for Dean too, he might not be going through it but he was watching someone else navigate the messy plains of powers and the pain that came with it…that was scary. Especially since Dean has always taken his job as an older brother very seriously, doing anything and everything for him no matter the cost, he was meant to be his protector but with these newfound abilities Dean didn’t know how to help, how to protect his little brother– and that scared him.

I cross my arms across my chest, trying to think of what to say when I hear movement heading towards us. I turn towards the door, it creaks open slowly, Max’s figure standing right at the doorway the gun clutched in his hand at his side. I give him a questioning look, but his face is determined and there’s no Sam.

There’s no Sam.

Panic settles in my veins and before I can react Dean is standing in front of me, pushing me further behind him before he takes purposeful steps towards Max. The door slams shut and suddenly Dean goes flying left, barreling into the wall. Oh, two can play that game.

“Max!” Ms.Miller yells from behind me, having woken up in the short time her son arrived. Max points the gun at me with shaky hands, “Move,” he commands. I bring my powers forward, flicking it on, “Do you want to try?” I warn bitterly. He laughs, shaking, “Do you think you’re like me too?”

I assume Sam must have said something about that to him downstairs, “No,” I answer softly. He raises his other hand at me, flicking it to the left trying to send me flying too but I don’t budge. He looks confused and tries again but once more I don’t move. “Max please just put the gun down, this isn’t the way, I promise you,” I reason.

“You don’t get it!” he yells, shaking. I smile at him sadly, holding up my hands in defeat, “Dad drinks and he gets mean,” I say, “You think he doesn’t mean it, he’s just grieving. But it happens one too many times and you get scared.”

His resolve weakens and tears run down his face, “Your Dad?” He isn’t sure whether he should believe me or if I'm just lying to talk him down. I take a quick look over at Dean, who still lies on the floor looking at me with eyes wide, I never told him and I don’t think he ever knew.

I look back at Max, “Yes. My brother took most of it for me, but I reminded him too much of my mother and she was gone while I lived and that was not fair,” I swallow roughly, “I didn’t think he was capable. My mom loved him and he was never like that when she was around, but they did always say she softened him so maybe that’s why.”

“What did you do?” he asks, lowering the gun just a little. I go quiet and he does not like that, he raises the gun again, “Did you kill him?!” he screams.

I shake my head, “No. He managed that all by himself, he grew very careless.”

His eyes scrunch together in confusion, “Did you want to?”

I shake my head again, “No, I didn’t want to be like him. Didn’t want to stoop to his level. My brother though…he, um, I think he wanted to. But he didn’t. When he died, I didn’t cry at his funeral, I wasn’t as sad as I knew I should’ve been, and that alone makes me feel so guilty…” I take a careful deep breath trying to blink away the tears, “Please put the gun down, I know you're angry, you have every right to be. And I know you’re scared but doing this. It won’t help.”

“How do you know!” he screams, his face red, but it comes out weak.

“He’s dead and I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit out loud for the first time, tears slipping down my cheeks as my powers revert to it’s resting stage, “I think I hear his voice or that I see him in a crowd, and I know it’s not really him. But my heart picks up and I think he’s there, and I know what that means and I get scared.”

He looks at me, really looks at me and it is like looking in a mirror, our pain reflecting in each other. He lets go of the gun, but it doesn’t hit the floor instead it floats in front of him, “I’m not you, I won’t sit back and take it. She has to die, they all had to.”

His words feel like a stab to my hurt but I ignore them, “No, Max, please. It won’t help.” I don’t look away from him but even so, I hear Dean standing up and I can feel him getting closer. He puts himself in front of me again, I try to get him behind me, a gun wouldn’t exactly kill me, but he looks down at me his green eyes hard. He moves me behind him, looking back at Max, “You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first.”

“Fine,” he says. Just as the door busts open, Sam comes barreling in, “No don’t! Don’t! Please. Please,” Sam begs, “Max. Max. We can help you. All right.”

I move away from Dean despite the arm that he holds out to stop me from getting closer. Max is shaking, and sweaty, and tears run down his face rapidly. He looks at Sam with anguish, then his gaze turns to me eyes filled with a familiar pain. But his shoulders suddenly drop, and his face clears, “You’re right. It won’t stop.”

The floating gun points at himself. A loud bang rings in the room. Bits of blood splatter on my face. His body crumbles to the floor, a hole in his head.

I stare blankly at a spot on the floor, a small swirl in the wooden floors. Sirens whirl just outside, and cops stand all around us. His body was brought out in a bag. Yellow caution tape sections off parts of the house. Something light was placed in my hand, something to clean the…

Muffled voices sing near me.

He’s dead. I couldn’t convince him, if anything I made it worse. I should’ve said it gets better because it does and it’s not that common that I get scared, I can’t. Not with this job. But I didn’t want to lie and I made it worse.

I feel sick.

I couldn’t help.

He didn’t want to be like me. He’s dead.

He didn’t want to be like me and I didn’t want to be my father and he’s dead. They are both dead and I live.

I live and Dad would say it’s not fair. He’s dead.

A familiar hand nudges me forward, I walk automatically without hearing the voices. Something about…

He’s dead.

The car door opens and I sit inside, automatically putting the seat belt on. Someone says something and the door closes, voices say something outside, and then doors open and close. The car moves forward, the sirens get further away. Eyes look at me and I look at him.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

His body floats away as it burns like a Viking. He hugs me closer to him and we do not cry. We are free sometimes.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

He said it won't stop and there’s a bang.

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