#me: sticks my machete out

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Implicit permission

lol

Believe it or not you never needed permission

You only needed to get within reach.

#and Krayzie taught me about never words ;) #never never land #I suspect our boy will get the full tree trunk legs when you get these links growing #ours though hmmm....sounds sexy #that is how we get them though *shrugs* #psst....baby joined we gate top to bottom #in to out to in ams all points of nothing all & everything #powing tea.....fuck....me need make yum for licks and sticks and more licks #a few years back you weren't kidding though the weapon grew like his father #double tongues double studs double dydoes #thankfully she is easy to convince for doing sexy things for me #I look so forward to seeing you two interact in person #me: sticks my machete out #these two: just breathing #that forst pillow talk: you two (babbling) me: I just dropped a fat load in that pussy #spurting for days wetting that wet cage #you have been given the key #behold creation #speaking as the gentleman who warped out of a break room I'm your oversized doom

[fatecantstopme]

Take Your Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: What happens after you lose the love of your life?

Warnings: character death, a lot of talk about death, grieving, childbirth, single parenting, cursing, use of pet names, mentions of smut/implied smut.

A/N: This is insanely long and some parts are painfully sad, but it's a beautiful story of love and family that persists even beyond the grave. There's a lot of POV switching between Dean and reader. I hope you love it as much as I do.

“The two of you are like rabbits,” Sam groaned. “I swear you could hear it outside the bunker.”

Dean laughed heartily. “It’s not my fault she’s so damn hot.”

You blushed and buried your face in your hands. “Sorry, Sammy. We’ll try to keep it down.”

“I’ve lost the ability to pretend I didn’t hear you two.”

You laughed. “What can I say? He’s good at what he does.”

“Ughhhh,” Sam groaned as he left the kitchen.

You leaned into Dean with a smile. “Maybe we should try to keep it down, for Sam’s sake.”

Dean seemed to contemplate it for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, babe. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve some enjoyment—celebration, even. We beat Chuck, Jack’s in charge, there seems to be less monsters running around…and somehow we’re still alive to see it.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.”

“Plus,” Dean leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “my wife is the sexiest woman on earth. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

You laughed warmly and playfully smacked his arm. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grinned. “But you love me.”

You smiled as you leaned up to kiss him. “Very much.”

**********

“It’s kinda nice to be on a regular old monster hunt,” Dean said with a smile.

“Is it weird that I’ve missed this?” you asked.

“Definitely not. I’ve missed it too,” Sam responded.

“Vampires,” Dean mumbled. “I do love killing vampires.”

You chuckled lightly and rolled your eyes.

The three of you grabbed your machetes and headed towards the barn. You knew this was where the vamps were bedding down, but you weren’t sure how many of them were there.

Dean shot you a grin before busting in the barn door, shocking several vampires into action. Dean let out a weird holler of excitement and dove into the fray. You and Sam exchanged glances before jumping in.

Everything was going well. It was a pretty easy hunt, to be honest. You’d just beheaded the last one when you heard Sam yell your name from behind you.

You could hear the terror in his voice and when you spun around, you came face to face with your greatest fear.

“Dean!” You screamed as you ran across the barn. You grabbed his face when you reached him, tears already streaming down both of your faces. “No…” you whispered.

He coughed and wheezed softly. You could see the piece of metal sticking out of his chest and you knew he was dying. You’d always known the life was dangerous—that any of you could die young, but things were finally good. You thought you’d actually get to grow old together.

Sam stood beside you, just as devastated as you were. “Dean, please…”

“It’s okay Sammy. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

You inhaled sharply, tears blurring your vision. “Please don’t go,” you begged. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so damn sorry,” he whispered. “But you’re gonna be okay—you’re gonna be fine.”

You shook your head rapidly.

“Yes you are, sweetheart. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re gonna mourn, but you’re gonna keep going. You’re not the kind of woman to ever give up, so don’t start now.”

You stared at him, letting his words wash over you, knowing they would be some of his last.

“Take care of each other,” Dean said to both of you.

“We will,” Sam responded, emotion clouding his voice.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

You whimpered softly before standing on your toes to kiss him gently. “I love you too, Dean. Always.”

He smiled, but you could see the light fading from his eyes. “One more thing, baby.”

“Yes?”

“‘Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it a while.’”

You let out a breathy chuckle. He would never admit it, but The Princess Bride was one of his favorite movies. He’d always loved that line in particular and he’d said it to you on your wedding day instead of “till death do us part”.

“Wait for me,” you whispered, caressing his cheek affectionately.

He reached out a hand and brushed the tears from your cheek. “Take your time,” he said so softly you almost didn’t hear.

You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see the moment he died—you couldn’t bear it. When his hand slipped from your face and you heard Sam let out a pained sob, you knew he was gone.

You finally looked up, and the tears began to fall in earnest. You’d never felt a pain like this before—not even when he’d died in the past. This time was different. This time was final. Dean was dead—and a large piece of your heart went with him.

**********

Dean’s POV:

I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to get my bearings. I was surprised by how bright it was--I was pretty certain it had been night only moments ago.

"Hey Dean," a familiar voice said from behind me.

I spun around with a smile on my face and immediately embraced the man in front of me. "Bobby!"

Bobby returned my hug. "It's good to see you, kid."

Seeing Bobby made me realize where I was and the smiled slipped from my face.

He patted me gently on the shoulder. "Yeah, it's tough at first."

"(Y/N/N) and Sammy..." I whispered. "I left them."

Bobby nodded sadly. "I know, kid, I know. It's gonna hurt for a while, but they're both tough people. They'll be okay."

Tears blurred my vision at the thought of my wife and little brother mourning my death. I hated the idea of leaving them all alone, especially (Y/N). I knew Sammy would be okay--he always was. But (Y/N)? I'd made her a promise--I promised her forever. Then I went and got myself killed...leaving her to put the pieces of her life back together--a life we were supposed to share.

"I'm worried about (Y/N/N)," I whispered. "I can't stand the idea of her being alone. And the not knowing how she is? That might kill me--figuratively, I guess."

"I know the feeling, but I do have some good news for you. Things are obviously different up here, thanks entirely to Jack."

Bobby gestured to a building off in the distance and I realized it was the Roadhouse.

"A lot of us hang out here together--Ellen, Jo, Ash, Charlie, Pamela," Bobby said. "Also, we now have a new option--the ability to check in on the people we left behind. It's how I knew you'd be coming here."

"Wait--I can check in on (Y/N)? And Sam? Like I can see them?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, anytime you want. The only thing is, time moves differently up here, so you'll probably only catch glimpses of their lives over time."

"I'll take anything at this point. How do I do it?"

"You just picture the person clearly in your mind and you'll be able to see and hear what's happening in their lives at that moment. Plus, if they call out to you--like a prayer--you'll hear them."

"So all I have to do is picture (Y/N/N) and I'll see her?"

Bobby nodded. "Just remember, you're not gonna see the moment you left...it's probably been a couple weeks at this point."

I nodded. "I wanna see her."

Bobby patted my shoulder again. "Take your time. I'll be in the Roadhouse. Come on in when you're done--I'm sure there's a few people who wanna see you."

"Thanks, Bobby."

I watched him walk away for a few moments before taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I pictured my wife's beautiful face in my mind with everything I had. Within moments, I was transported to a room I knew very well--our bedroom in the bunker.

(Y/N) was laying on our bed, wearing her favorite flannel of mine, and clutching a pillow close to her chest. I could tell she'd been crying for some time and it broke my heart.

There was a knock at the door and Sam's voice called out to her, asking if she was okay.

"I'm alright, Sammy," she answered softly.

"Do you want dinner?"

She sniffled softly. "I'm not really hungry, but thank you."

I heard Sam sigh quietly. "Okay, let me know if you change your mind."

I turned my attention back to (Y/N) just as she rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to do this without you," she whispered. "I thought we'd have more time."

I could feel the tears stinging my own eyes as I watched her cry softly.

"You promised me, Dean. You promised me forever," she whimpered. "I shouldn't be angry with you--it's not like you left me on purpose. But I can't help it, Dean. I'm so angry, and bitter, and heartbroken, and so...alone."

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she finished talking, her words cutting into me like a knife.

"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered, wishing like hell she could hear me. I just wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. I needed everything to be okay--I needed her to be okay.

She sighed quietly, bringing my attention back to her. "I just love you so much, Dean, and I--I miss you." She inhaled deeply before continuing. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know I'll be okay. It'll take some time, and I'll never stop missing you, but I will be okay."

I didn't realize how badly I'd needed to hear her say those words. My heart still ached, but her words helped heal it just a little. "I love you so much, beautiful--always."

She smiled up at the ceiling as if she'd heard me, but I knew that was impossible. She pressed her hand to her lips and blew a kiss towards the ceiling.

I smiled as I blew one back. She'd always blown me kisses when I was alive and I was glad she was continuing the habit.

I watched her curl back up on her side and sigh softly as she pulled the pillow close to her. I stayed just long enough for her to fall asleep before closing my eyes and returning to heaven.

**********

"SAM!" you screamed loudly. "SAMMY!"

You heard his loud footsteps echoing down the bunker hallway as he raced towards you. He appeared in your doorway slightly out of breath and more than a little terrified.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asked breathlessly.

Your hands were shaking as you held up the item in your hand.

Sam looked at it in confusion. As you watched, you saw the realization dawn on him and he gasped.

"Wait, (Y/N)--are you--are you pregnant?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks. "This is the third one I've taken...they all came up positive."

"Oh my god," Sam mumbled. "You're gonna have a baby."

You stared at him in mild terror. "I'm gonna have a baby," you confirmed.

Sam stared at you, clearly unsure what he should do. After a few moments, he grabbed you and held you tightly. You leaned into his hug, more grateful than ever to have him in your life.

"We should take you to see a doctor. I'm sure Eileen would come too."

You nodded against his chest, the tears on your cheeks wiping off on his shirt.

"We're gonna help you, (Y/N). You won't be going through this alone. I promise."

You stepped back and offered him a small smile. "Thank you, Sammy."

**********

Dean's POV:

It had been a couple days since I'd last checked on (Y/N), so I decided to take a little time to myself to pay her a visit.

I closed my eyes, envisioning (Y/N/N)'s face clearly in my mind. When I opened my eyes again, I saw (Y/N) sitting in the bunker library, reading a book.

Her back was to me, so I moved closer to see over her shoulder, trying to see what she was reading. I expected it to be one of the novels she was always reading, but this appeared to be one of those self-help books. She wasn't the type of person to read self-help books, so I was pretty surprised.

Before I could move around to see her from the front, Sam came into the room carrying an absurd amount of food. I looked at the food on one of the plates and even I had to admit it looked gross. Some sort of burger, but with what appeared to be greek yogurt on it...and mustard?

Sam sat the plate down in front of (Y/N) and she clapped her hands in delight. "Looks delicious!"

Sam looked at her with a slightly grossed-out look on his face and chuckled lightly. "I felt disgusting making it and I don't think I can watch you eat it," he teased.

She laughed and took a big bite of the sandwich, a groan of pleasure slipping from her lips. "Oh my god, that's so good."

Sam laughed heartily. "These pregnancy cravings are nasty."

She giggled, but I missed her response because I was too focused on what Sam had just said...pregnancy cravings? I looked at the book (Y/N) had sat on the table beside her and saw the title "Parenting 101".

I finally got a good look at my wife and noticed her round belly and I nearly passed out--if I could even pass out. I thought I was about to hyperventilate and my shock must have pushed me out of my trance--sending me straight back to heaven.

I nearly ran--okay, I did run--all the way to the Roadhouse, bursting in the door, out of breath and panicky.

"Hey easy there, kiddo," Ellen said as she stepped forward to check on me.

"(Y/N)'s pregnant," I practically yelled, shocking every person in the room.

Bobby looked up at me from the beer he was drinking with a look of shock on his face. Ellen had been patting my back, but now she was frozen in place.

"Is it--I mean, could it be yours?" Ellen asked gently.

"I--I don't know," I mumbled. "I have no idea how long I've been dead."

"Ash!" Ellen yelled.

The man in question appeared almost instantly. "Yo!"

"How long has Dean been dead?"

"Uhhh...hold on." Ash started typing away on his laptop. Two minutes later he answered, "A little over six months."

Bobby had gotten up from his seat and came over to help Ellen escort me to a chair. "Have a seat, son. Just breathe."

"Looks like you're gonna be a father," Ellen said gently.

"I'm--how--I--" words were not coming to me easily. I didn't know how to feel or what to think--all I knew was my wife was pregnant and I wasn't there to support her.

The more I thought about it, the sadder I became. I wouldn't be there for the birth, wouldn't get to hold (Y/N)'s hand through it all...I would never meet my child. My wife was all alone, doomed to the life of a single parent all because I was careless enough to die too soon.

"At least she has Sam," I whispered lowly.

Ellen was rubbing comforting circles on my back and Bobby squeezed my shoulder.

"I need to talk to her," I said suddenly. "How can I talk to her?"

Bobby shook his head. "You can't, Dean. I'm sorry, but that's just not possible."

Tears stung my eyes and I stood up abruptly. "I think I just need to be alone," I mumbled.

I could feel several pairs of eyes on my back as I left the Roadhouse and began to mindlessly wander, unsure of where I was going, but certain there was a destination.

**********

"You can do it, (Y/N). Just breathe," Sam said calmly.

"You tell me to breathe one more time, Winchester, and I'll kill you," you hissed.

Eileen looked up at Sam with a small smirk. "I think she's serious," she said.

Sam quickly signed 'I'm just trying to help.'

Eileen chuckled. 'Why don't you go get something to eat. I think that would be helpful.'

You let out a groan of pain and Sam's eyes widened. "Okay...I'll go do that."

Eileen shook her head and moved forward to grab your hand. "Men," she mumbled.

You laughed lightly before another contraction hit you. "Fuck," you groaned.

The nurse gently patted your leg. "You're doing great, sweetheart. Just keep breathing."

You squeezed the hell out of Eileen's hand, which got her attention. "Labor is hell--don't have kids."

She laughed. "I'm sure Sam will want one or two, especially after meeting his niece."

"Adopt," you ground out as another contraction hit you.

She gently brushed the hair out of your eyes, wiping the sweat off your forehead in the same motion.

You were beyond grateful for the two of them, even if you couldn't express it in that moment.

"Dean, you son of a bitch," you growled. "This is all your fault!"

You didn't mean it of course, it was more a heat of the moment thing. You missed him terribly and the pain of his absence had never been greater.

**********

Dean's POV:

In the middle of my walk, I heard someone scream my name. I paused, listening for any other sound.

"This is all your fault!"

I knew immediately it was (Y/N)'s voice and I went to her without a second thought.

I was shocked to find myself standing in a hospital room, my beautiful wife lying on the bed, clearly in pain. I stepped farther into the room when I heard (Y/N/N) whimper softly. Eileen was on the other side of the bed, squeezing her hand and gently brushing her hair back to calm her.

I was desperate to grab her hand, to tell her everything would be okay. She wasn't wrong--I was the one who got her pregnant, but I couldn't be there to help her through the birth of our child. It broke my heart to see her in such pain, especially knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

"Okay, sweetheart, it's time to push again," the nurse said softly.

(Y/N) let out a low grunt of pain as she leaned forward to push with all her strength. Eileen continued holding her hand and I watched her face tighten in discomfort as (Y/N) squeezed it.

Even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I started talking to her. "I'm right here, baby," I said softly. "You're doing so well, sweetheart."

Sam suddenly came into the room, looking concerned, but also a little terrified. "How you doin' (Y/N/N)?"

She shot daggers at my little brother and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Obviously not great, Samuel," she growled.

Eileen chuckled and gestured to Sam to go back out in the hallway. "We'll call you in when the baby comes."

Given the fact that Sam's face was a little green, I had to agree it was best for him to be out in the hall.

My attention was drawn back to (Y/N) when she let out a soft cry of pain.

"You're doing so great, (Y/N)," the nurse said. "Keep pushing, honey."

She continued pushing and even though she was clearly in a lot of pain and discomfort, I couldn't help but think she was so beautiful and powerful in that moment. I'd never seen a stronger woman in all my life.

"She's crowning!" the doctor called. "Give me a really good push."

(Y/N) groaned in pain as she pushed, cutting the circulation off in Eileen's hand with the strength of her squeeze.

"That's it, one more!"

(Y/N) let out one more agonized groan before collapsing back against the mattress. As soon as she did, I heard the loud crying of a newborn baby--our newborn baby.

"You did so well, honey," the nurse said. "So, so, well. I'll clean her up and let you hold her, okay?"

(Y/N) nodded with a weak smile, eyes meeting Eileen's moist ones. 'You did amazing,' she signed.

"Thank you," (Y/N) whispered.

The nurse brought a little bundle over and handed it to my wife. "Here's your mama."

(Y/N)'s arms wrapped around the sweet bundle, holding her close to her chest. "Hi, little one," she murmured sweetly. "Welcome to the world."

I leaned over to get a good view of my daughter. "Good job, mama," I whispered.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered.

I couldn't help but agree, she was perfect.

"What are we gonna name this sweet girl?" the nurse asked.

(Y/N) looked up with tearful eyes. "Charlie," she answered. "Her name is Charlie."

Tears filled my eyes, emotion overwhelming me. (Y/N) had loved Charlie has much as I did, so I shouldn't have been surprised that she'd want to honor her memory like this.

"That's a lovely name. Do you want to give little Charlie a middle name?"

At that moment, Sam came back in the room, a teary smile warming his features. He entered the room fully and came to the side of the bed to get a better view of his niece.

(Y/N) looked up at him and smiled. "MaryEllen," she answered. "Charlie MaryEllen Winchester."

Sam choked back tears as he leaned forward to place a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead and then to Charlie's. "I think that's a perfect name."

She smiled. "Me too."

The nurse smiled as she wrote down the name on the form in her hands. "Okay, sweetie, did you want to put a name down for the father?"

(Y/N)'s face dropped slowly and it made my heart ache. "Yes. His name was Dean--Dean Winchester."

The nurse nodded and jotted it down on her form. "I'll go file this and be back in a few minutes."

Tears were streaming down (Y/N)'s cheeks as she stared at our little girl. "I wish Dean was here," she mumbled.

Sam and Eileen exchanged sad looks. "I know, (Y/N/N)," Sam said gently. "So do I."

"I'm right here, baby," I whispered. "I'm always right here."

"She's perfect, isn't she?" (Y/N) said softly, changing the subject.

"She really is," Eileen confirmed.

I wanted to stay, but I couldn't bear to see my daughter and not hold her. It was making my chest ache in an unimaginable way.

I was about to make my exit when (Y/N) cast a glance to the ceiling and whispered, "I love you, Dean." She blew me a kiss and I couldn't help but smile.

"I love you both, baby. So damn much," I murmured before closing my eyes and returning to heaven.

**********

"Do babies ever sleep?" you grumbled as you stumbled into the kitchen after a very long and sleepless night.

Sam looked up from his coffee with a small smile. "She will eventually," he answered. When you shot him a glare, he slid his coffee towards you. "You need this more than I do."

Your expression softened. "Thanks." You took a sip, sighing gratefully as you sat at the table.

"Eileen with Charlie?"

You nodded. "She's so good with her."

Sam smiled. "I know."

You took a deep breath before saying something you'd been thinking for a while. "I think it's time for me to move out."

"What?" Sam asked in shock.

"The bunker's no place to raise a baby, Sam. I think it's time I find somewhere else to live."

He looked sad, but he nodded his head in understanding. "As much as I hate for you to leave, I understand why you need to."

You smiled tearfully. "Everywhere I look, I see Dean. His memory is infused in these walls and I love it, but it hurts--it hurts in a way I can't explain. Charlie and I need a fresh start--a real home."

Sam got up and gave you a warm hug. "Just don't go too far, okay? We need you both in our lives."

"I actually talked to Donna last week...she asked me to move in with her."

"That would be great! I'd feel better if you weren't alone, so I love the idea of you staying with Donna."

"It would just be for a little while, until I figure out what we should do for our future."

"You know I'll support you, (Y/N), in whatever you choose to do."

"I know, Sammy. You're the best uncle Charlie could ever have."

**********

Dean's POV:

When I arrived back in heaven, I found myself in a place I didn't recognize. I guess I'd kept walking mindlessly while I was checking in on (Y/N)...if that's even possible.

"Hello Dean," a familiar voice said behind me.

I turned around in surprise. "Jack?"

Jack smiled at me. "It's good to see you, Dean."

I returned the smile. "It's good to see you too."

"I heard you wanted to talk to me."

"I...I did?"

"Rather, you wanted to talk to (Y/N), which is something you would need to discuss with me."

"Bobby said it's not possible."

"He's correct. That's not something that has ever been done, but I suppose this is a special circumstance."

"It is?"

"You've saved the world selflessly so many times it's truly hard to keep track. Both (Y/N) and your brother have done so as well. As such, I believe you are owed something in return."

"I thought my reward was getting into heaven."

Jack smiled. "Perhaps initially, but this would be a reward specifically from me."

"Are you saying I could talk to (Y/N)? I mean, really talk to her?"

Jack nodded. "It would be a one-time thing, but it would allow you to properly say goodbye to her--and to Sam. Plus, I think you deserve the opportunity to meet your daughter."

"How long would I have?"

"I can give you an hour."

I nodded eagerly. "Please."

Jack smiled and reached out his hand, putting two fingers to my forehead.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a very familiar place. I looked around the bedroom (Y/N) and I had shared in the years since we'd discovered the bunker and I couldn't help but smile.

(Y/N) was curled up on the bed, reading a book, and she hadn't noticed me yet. I cleared my throat, getting her attention, and nearly ended up with a knife embedded in my chest as she threw it across the room with shocking accuracy.

"Woah! Baby, take it easy! It's me!"

She grabbed another knife from the bedside table and held it out in front of her. "Who the hell are you?" she growled.

"It's me, sweetheart."

"That's impossible. We burned your body."

"I know you did--listen, baby, I don't have much time. Jack sent me."

She paused, knife lowering slightly. "Jack sent you?"

I nodded. "Run whatever tests you need, babe, but it's me. It's really me."

She took a step towards me, then moved with surprising speed, tossing holy water at my face and pressing the silver knife against my skin.

"Dean?" she whimpered softly, dropping the knife to the floor.

"It's me, beautiful."

She said my name again before slamming her lips against mine in a hungry kiss. I kissed her back and my arms wrapped around her to pull her closer. I couldn't even express how much I'd missed this feeling.

When she broke the kiss, I saw tears in her eyes and I knew the look on her face was reflected on mine.

"I missed you so much," she whispered.

"I missed you too."

"How is this possible?"

"Jack sent me down here to say a proper goodbye--he said I deserved it."

She smiled and caressed my face. "How long do we have?"

"He gave me an hour."

She nodded. "Then we have no time to waste."

She pulled me even closer to her, kissing me with more passion than before. I knew what she wanted by the way she held me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it just as much.

I pulled her down onto the bed with me, ridding both of us of our clothes as quickly as possible. I held her close to me as we made love, not wanting to forget a single moment.

She whispered my name against my skin as she came around me, repeating the sound as she came down from her high. She held me tightly as I found my release, my teeth nipping at her pulse point to stay quiet.

We laid there quietly in each other's arms for a few minutes, but we both knew we didn't have a lot of time. I sighed softly as I dragged myself out of the bed to grab a washcloth to clean her up before we tugged our clothes back on.

Suddenly, (Y/N) seemed to realize something and yelled, "Oh my god! Oh my god, you don't know."

"Know what, sweetheart?"

"I--you--we...do you wanna meet your daughter?" she whispered.

I smiled warmly. "Little Charlie? I'd love to meet her."

Surprise lit up her pretty face. "You--you know?"

"Another gift from Jack--everyone in heaven is able to check in on the people they love down here. So I've been keeping an eye on you and Sam."

Tears filled her eyes again, and she couldn't formulate a verbal response. Instead she wrapped me in another hug and placed a soft kiss to my lips.

"I hear you when you talk to me too, ya know."

"You do?"

"I do. Anytime you call out to me, I can hear it."

She smiled warmly. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Dean."

"I can tell you it makes me incredibly happy."

She took a deep breath and shook her head, as if to shake off the intense emotions she was feeling. She turned away from me, walking over to the crib behind her. She reached in and scooped up our daughter before walking over to me.

"Do you wanna hold her, baby?"

I nodded, emotion clouding my vision. "I'd love to."

She slipped Charlie into my arms and I fell in love instantly. I didn't know I could feel this way about someone. I held my baby girl close to my chest and stared at her beautiful, peaceful sleeping face.

"She's so perfect, (Y/N/N)."

"She really is," she whispered as she leaned against my shoulder. "I'm so happy to get to have this moment with you."

I looked over at her with a soft smile. "Me too, sweetheart."

Charlie opened her eyes at the sound of our voices and made a cute little cooing sound that warmed my heart instantly. She reached one of her little hands up towards my face and I moved my hand towards her. She wrapped her fingers around one of mine and cooed again.

"Hi, princess," I whispered. "Aren't you just the most beautiful girl?"

(Y/N/N) chuckled softly and kissed my shoulder.

"You're gonna look just like your mama. I can tell. Hopefully you get her brain too."

"And your daddy's bravery and loyalty."

I smiled at her and she returned my expression. "Oh and her name? Perfect."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, baby. I love it."

"I wanted to honor your best friend and the two women who helped make you the incredible man you are."

I leaned down to her and kissed her again. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Dean."

We spent several more minutes in silence together, just looking at our beautiful baby--the baby we created together.

"We should go wake Sam," (Y/N) said softly.

"He'd kill me if I didn't see him too."

"He might kill me too," she teased.

She went to the door and gestured for me to follow. I followed her down the hall to Sam's room and waited as she knocked.

"(Y/N/N)? You okay?" Sam asked as he opened the door.

"I have a surprise." She stepped to the side to allow me to come into the doorway.

Sam's jaw dropped in shock. (Y/N) reached out and pulled Charlie from my arms and addressed Sam. "It's really him, Sammy."

"Dean?"

I nodded and my little brother practically tackled me in a hug.

(Y/N) smiled at the scene in front of her. She'd never expected to get another chance to say goodbye to me and she knew Sam needed this as much as she did.

"How are you here?" Sam asked as he finally let me go.

"A little favor from Jack--just for an hour. I'm here to say goodbye properly and to meet my baby girl."

Sam seemed to remember (Y/N) and Charlie's presence and he turned his attention to them. "I don't know what to say."

"I don't think any of us do," she said gently.

"That's not entirely accurate," I said softly. "I'd been thinking about what I would say if I could talk to you both."

I turned my attention to Sam first. "Sammy, I just want you to be happy. I want you to live a good, full life--the kind of life you always dreamed of. You deserve to be happy and I really couldn't ask for anything more than that."

As I finished addressing Sam, I heard Jack's voice from behind me. "Dean? It's time."

I turned to him and pleaded softly, "Just a couple more minutes to say goodbye to (Y/N)...please."

Jack nodded and took a step back to allow me to finish.

"Dean?" (Y/N) whispered.

"Your turn," I said gently as I reached for Charlie, pulling her into my arms with a smile. "Now you better be a good girl, you hear me? You treat your mama with honor and respect. You have no idea how lucky you are to have her as your mother, but I hope someday you realize it...and I hope you know just how much I love you. I'll always watch over you, little one. I promise." I placed a gentle kiss to her little forehead and she stirred happily. "Sammy, can you hold your niece for me?"

Sam nodded and took Charlie from my arms, too emotional to say anything else. He just clapped me on the shoulder and nodded--it was all I needed to understand what he couldn't say.

"Your turn, baby," I whispered as I took a step towards my wife.

"I'm not ready," she whimpered.

"Me neither, sweetheart, but here it goes." I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close to me. She looked up at me with teary eyes and I took a deep breath before continuing. "You are the light of my life and I am so honored to have been loved by you all these years. I would do anything to be able to stay with you, but we both know that's not in the cards for us. That doesn't mean I won't be with you...I'll always be with you, sweetheart, even if it's only in your memories and your heart."

She sniffled and tried to smile a little. I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before continuing.

"I want you to keep living, (Y/N). I need you to keep going--to fight for the life you and our daughter deserve. I'm so proud of everything you and I have accomplished together and I can't wait to see what amazing things you do with the rest of your life. I love you, baby, and I'll never stop."

She closed her eyes and nodded, tears slipping past her lids. She opened them back up and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine. "I'll love you forever, Dean Winchester," she whispered against my lips.

I kissed her deeply, pouring everything I had into the kiss. I needed her to know exactly how much I loved her and how badly I would miss her.

After what felt like both eternity and not nearly long enough, we separated. "I've gotta go, beautiful," I whispered.

"I know," she whispered back.

I kissed her lips again, then her forehead, before pulling away from her. I smiled at my brother, who returned the expression in kind. I touched my daughter's cheek and turned away before I lost the nerve to walk to Jack's side.

"Jack?" (Y/N) called.

Jack's attention went to her and he smiled gently.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, (Y/N)."

"Keep him out of trouble," she said lightly with a small smile.

Jack chuckled softly. "I don't think even I can do that."

I turned back to look at my family one last time and I couldn't help but go back to give (Y/N) one last kiss. "Goodbye my love," I murmured.

"I'll see you later, Dean," she said gently. "This isn't forever."

I held her close and kissed the top of her head. "Take your time, baby. Take your time."

I pulled away from her and walked away, refusing to look back--knowing if I did, it would break my heart. I looked at Jack and said softly, "I'm ready."

He nodded and touched my forehead just as he had before. When I opened my eyes again, I couldn't help but smile as I stood outside of the Roadhouse. I knew I would never be whole as long as (Y/N) and I were apart, but I felt so much better knowing she was safe, happy, and loved...that she would never give up, that she would keep living.

**********

Almost three years had passed since you'd said goodbye to Dean. It had been an eventful time--and a deeply emotional three years. You couldn't begin to express how much you missed him, but it comforted you to know he was okay and could check in on you whenever he liked.

You'd moved into Donna's house and you would be forever grateful for her compassion, kindness, and friendship--and for her help with Charlie. Raising a child on your own wasn't easy, but you were blessed with a chosen family who would never let you down.

On this particular night, you were curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling as you so often did. You spoke to Dean, telling him how much you missed him and updating him on Charlie's life.

"I can't believe she's already three," you murmured. "She has your eyes, you know--the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen."

You sighed. "There are moments...moments when she looks up at me and I swear I'm looking into your eyes. I just have this feeling she's going to be so much like you, even if she looks more like me."

You chuckled before continuing. "I hope she's strong and brave like you, and also kind and loyal like you. I hope she loves as passionately as you did and I hope she never has to wonder her worth--or how much we love her."

You'd just finished speaking when you heard a soft whimper at your door a second before it opened. Charlie stepped through it, eyes teary.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?"

"I had a bad dream," she whispered.

You pulled the blankets back and invited her into your bed. The little girl curled up against you with her head on your shoulder. You rubbed her back soothingly and asked her what she'd dreamed about.

"A monster," she whispered fearfully.

**********

Dean's POV:

I'd been listening to (Y/N) talk to me when Charlie suddenly appeared in the room, telling her mother she'd had a nightmare. I watched as (Y/N) invited her to come sleep in her bed and ask her what she'd dreamed about.

"A monster," she'd whispered.

"A monster?" (Y/N) asked. "What kind of monster, baby?"

"He was big and hairy and he had claws and red eyes and he was really scary," Charlie rambled. "He came out of my closet and tried to hurt me."

I watched (Y/N) pull her a little closer, holding her tighter than before. She kissed the top of Charlie's head and promised her she was safe.

"No monster is going to hurt you, little one," she reassured our daughter. "Do you know why?"

Charlie looked up at her, bright green eyes filled with fear as she shook her head.

(Y/N) smiled at her warmly. "Because you're a Winchester. And do you know what monsters fear the most, sweetheart?"

Charlie again shook her head.

"Winchesters," (Y/N) whispered. "Your daddy and your Uncle Sammy made sure of that. No monster would dare try to hurt you."

"Really?" she asked in a small voice.

"Really," (Y/N) confirmed. "Besides, I'm here to protect you and so is your Aunt Donna. I will always keep you safe, Charlie. Always."

Charlie seemed pleased by this, a little smile appearing on her face. "You promise?"

(Y/N) smiled and kissed her on the head. "I promise, little one."

Charlie nestled in closer to her mother and sighed contentedly. (Y/N) stroked her hair and began to sing softly, the sound more soothing than anything she'd said thus far.

I watched my beautiful wife comforting our daughter in a way my father had never comforted us when we were afraid. (Y/N) made Charlie feel safe and protected and I knew she would defend her with her life--just as I would have done.

I stayed long enough to hear (Y/N) sing all the words to 'Let It Be', her favorite Beatles song. It reminded me of when I was young and my mother sang her favorite, 'Hey Jude'.

I wished I was there for them both--to comfort and protect the way a father and a husband should. But I knew the people I had left behind would always be there for my girls, and that had to be enough.

By the time (Y/N) finished singing, Charlie had fallen asleep. She looked so peaceful it warmed my heart. (Y/N) smiled up at the ceiling and blew a kiss my way--her way of closing the conversation.

I returned to heaven, pleased with the knowledge the people I loved most were safe and happy. I couldn't ask for anything more.

**********

"Charlie MaryEllen Winchester!" you yelled as your daughter ran across the backyard of Sam and Eileen's house.

You heard her contagious giggle and you shook your head. "This child..." you mumbled as Sam came up beside you.

"She's a lot like her dad."

"So is yours," you teased as you nodded towards little Dean as he chased Charlie throughout the yard.

"I feel like naming him after Dean should have been a warning."

You laughed. "He's got great parents, so I wouldn't worry about him."

Sam slung an arm around you and tugged you into his side. "Charlie's got a pretty great mom too."

You smiled up at him and laid your head against him. "I can't believe she's six."

"Neither can I," Sam admitted. "And Dean's three? When the hell did that happen?"

"No idea."

"Kids!" Eileen called from the doorway. "Dinner!" The kids ran into the house and Eileen gestured at the two of you. "That means you too!"

You laughed. "How does she put up with us?"

"She's a saint."

"Amen."

After dinner, the five of you gathered in the living room to play board games. Halfway through a game of Monopoly, Charlie looked up at you and asked for a story.

"You always tell the best stories, mama."

You smiled. "Okay, munchkin. What kind of story do you want?"

"Can you tell one about daddy?"

Emotion clouded your face for a moment before you smiled at your daughter again. You looked into her beautiful green eyes and hummed softly. "I think I can come up with something."

"So does that mean we're done with Monopoly?" Sam asked hopefully.

"I think so," you chuckled.

"Thank god." He turned to little Dean. "Auntie (Y/N) is gonna tell a story about your Uncle Dean."

"Uncie Dean!" he squealed happily.

You laughed warmly and gestured for both kids to come sit in front of you. You closed your eyes for a moment, mentally calling out to your husband in the hopes he would check in and see this moment.

"How 'bout the time daddy gave me an impromptu birthday party?"

Sam laughed loudly. "I love that story."

You smiled. "Me too." Your expression changed as you reminisced, but the warmth never left your eyes.

"It was my 25th birthday and your daddy wanted to celebrate what he deemed was a big milestone..."

**********

Dean's POV:

I heard (Y/N) call my name, so I told Charlie, Jo, and Pamela that I had to forfeit our game of pool. "It's (Y/N/N)," I said with a shrug.

"Awww," all three of them said in a teasing tone.

I waved them off as I went outside to visit my wife. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the whole family sitting in Sam and Eileen's living room.

My daughter and my nephew were sitting on the floor watching (Y/N) with wide eyes. Even Sam and Eileen were paying close attention. (Y/N) appeared to be telling some kind of story and she was signing it as well to make sure Eileen could keep up.

I entered the room fully and heard (Y/N) telling a story--a story about me.

"We weren't exactly big on celebrating birthdays in our line of work, but Dean got it into his head that today was important and needed to be celebrated. I have no idea what the heck he was thinking, since we were living out of motels at the time, but he decided he wanted to have a birthday party for me."

"He didn't say a word to me about it," she continued, "but he did tell his brother." She threw a pointed look in Sam's direction and he shrugged innocently. "We had just started dating...I think it had only been a few months, actually."

"It was six months," Sam cut in at the same time I whispered, "Six."

(Y/N) laughed. "Okay, six months. Anyway, we didn't have any cases on the horizon--no where else we needed to be, so your father thought it would be a good idea to have a celebration. He bought a cake, balloons, streamers--the whole nine yards."

"He sent the two of us out to pick up dinner so he could decorate the little motel room," Sam added.

"When we returned, the entire room was covered in decorations and he was standing in the middle of the room holding a bundle of lilies--my favorite flower."

She sighed happily at the memory and I had a feeling she could picture it as well as I could.

"He even said 'surprise!' when we came into the room. I remember it being a really heartwarming moment for me. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd celebrated a birthday and here was this man I'd only been with for a short time going all out to celebrate me."

"Your's was the only birthday I can remember him making a fuss over," Sam commented. "That's when I knew how much he cared about you."

She chuckled lightly. "Oddly enough, I still wasn't sure why he'd picked me, and I had no clue how deeply he cared for me...but I can pinpoint the exact moment I knew I loved him."

Both kids leaned forward, especially Charlie, who seemed to be hanging on to her mother's every word. Even Sam looked like he was unaware of this part of the story.

"We'd had dinner, and Dean forced Sam to sing me happy birthday--which was hilarious, I might add--and then he brought out the cake. It wasn't a store-bought cake like I'd expected. It was a homemade cake--yellow cake with chocolate icing, my absolute favorite. I was beyond shocked, especially since we didn't have an oven."

She grinned as she continued. "When I asked him where he got it, he admitted that the day before he'd gone to the store to get the supplies he needed and then he uh--well, he broke into a bakery to use their oven to bake me a cake for my birthday. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me...and silly as it might sound, that was the exact moment I knew I was in love with him."

"Daddy broke into a bakery?" Charlie asked.

(Y/N) laughed. "Yes, he did, but it was a special circumstance. Don't commit crimes, kids."

Sam laughed and I could tell he was thinking about all the illegal shit we'd done in our lives--all kinds of things we wouldn't want either of our children to do.

"I want someone to break into a bakery to make me a cake," my daughter mumbled.

All the adults in the room laughed, myself included.

"Baby, I'd break into a bakery for you any day," (Y/N) teased warmly. She reached out and scooped Charlie up and pulled her onto her lap. She squeezed her tightly before tickling her stomach lightly to emphasize her words.

I watched the sweet moment for a little while longer before the ache of not being with them became unbearable. I blew my wife a kiss I knew she couldn't see and one for my daughter as well. "I love you both," I whispered before returning to my rightful place.

**********

"Moooooom!" Charlie moaned. "It's Sunday! You can't do things on Sunday."

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "You wouldn't have to do anything today if you'd done your homework yesterday, like I told you to."

She grumbled and sighed. "I hate homework."

"You sound like your dad," you teased lightly.

Charlie seemed to brighten at the comment, as she often did when she was compared to her dad. "Can't we do our Sunday dance party first?" she pleaded.

You sighed, giving her a look you'd often used on Dean. It clearly said 'You aggravate the hell out of me, but I love you endlessly'. Charlie knew what it meant as well as Dean had, so she knew she'd won.

"Fine," you mumbled, throwing your hands up.

"I'll pick the first song!" Charlie yelled as she jumped out of her chair and ran towards the stereo.

You'd bought an old stereo that could play cassette tapes as a kind of homage to Dean. After all, you had all of the albums he'd loved on cassette.

"This one!" Charlie exclaimed, pressing play on the machine.

The intro to 'You Shook Me All Night Long' by AC/DC started playing and you couldn't help but laugh. It was probably your fault she loved classic rock so much, but she really seemed to thrive on it the same way Dean had.

You watched your daughter start dancing around the living room to one of her favorite songs. At nine years old, she had no idea what the song was really about--but she sang those lyrics with all her might.

She grabbed your hand and dragged you into the dance with her. The two of you danced around the living room, singing along to song after song until you were both out of breath.

You'd started 'Sunday Dance Party' back when Charlie was just a baby. You'd dance around with her in your arms, singing along to songs that spoke to your soul--and songs Dean had loved with all his heart. The tradition had continued on for nine years now--and you hoped it would never end.

"Okay," you gasped breathlessly as the last song came to an end. "How 'bout a slower song to wind down?

Charlie nodded her agreement and started digging through the albums. "Mom, where's the Bob Seger one?"

Your heart clenched for a moment, remembering how you'd taken the album to your room to listen to it when you were having a particularly rough night. "One sec, baby. Let me grab it."

You went to your room and retrieved the tape, delivering it to your daughter who looked confused.

"Why was it in your room?"

"I wanted to listen to it earlier this week. It's--well it's a special album."

Charlie looked at you quizzically.

"It was one of your dad's favorites. He always said Bob Seger was the greatest lyricist of all time..." You closed your eyes, picturing Dean's face as he sang along to 'Night Moves'. "I can still hear him singing along."

Charlie looked sad and she reached out to grab your hand. "Do you wanna listen to someone else?"

You smiled and wiped the stray tear that had fallen on your cheek. "No, baby. Pick a Bob Seger song."

Charlie gave you a lopsided smile that so resembled one of Dean's and your heart tightened. She selected a song and to your surprise, Dean's favorite Bob Seger song started to play.

"Night Moves," you whispered.

"I really like this one," Charlie admitted.

You took her hands and started to sway to the music. "It was your dad's favorite."

Charlie beamed at that--clearly pleased with the correlation. It was another song she knew every word to, but had no idea what it was about. It made you smile, hearing her sing along.

When the song came to an end, Charlie looked up at you. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"What was dad's all-time favorite song?"

You exhaled slowly as you thought about it. "He had two--'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blue'."

"Led Zeppelin."

You grinned. "Very good. Your dad would be proud."

She smiled. "What's yours?"

Your expression changed, the smile falling from your face. "If you'd asked me before I met your dad, my answer would have been different. But now? It's an REO Speedwagon song from the '80s. It's called 'Can't Fight This Feeling'."

"I...I don't think I know that one."

"That's probably because I haven't played it in a very long time--you were probably four the last time I listened to it."

"Why?"

"It was too hard to listen to it," you admitted. "The night Dean--your dad--asked me out, we went to a karaoke bar. He decided he wanted to sing a song and he chose 'Can't Fight This Feeling'. He dedicated it to me and it became our song. When he asked me to marry him, that song was playing in the background and it was the song we danced to at our wedding."

"So it reminds you of dad."

You nodded. "More than any other song ever could."

"Could we...could we listen to it?" she asked softly. A pained expression crossed your face and she immediately backtracked. "We don't have to."

"No, no, it's okay. We can listen to it. It's probably way past time I listen to it again."

You went into your room and dug out the old REO Speedwagon album, bringing it out to the living room and placing it in the cassette player. You pressed play and as the intro started, your chest tightened again.

Charlie listened intently as the song played and you swayed along to it, the lyrics slipping from your lips softly. For a moment, you swore you could feel Dean standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you, swaying with you. You closed your eyes and heard his voice in your mind, singing softly just for you to hear.

**********

"What am I supposed to do with her?" you grumbled, head in your hands as you sat across the table from Jody.

Your friend laughed softly. "She's a teenager now, (Y/N). She's probably gonna be a bit of a pain in the ass for a while."

You groaned. "You raised teenage girls. How did you do it?"

Jody smiled. "It wasn't easy, let me tell you, but my girls are good girls now and I'm thankful for it. It's probably gonna be a little harder for you, though--Charlie takes after her father in a lot of ways."

"Oh you mean like his stubborn, pig-headedness? Or his sarcasm and biting humor?"

Jody laughed. "Yeah all of that is true--but she also takes after him in a lot of the good ways too. She's just as deeply emotional as him, but she doesn't know how to express it or understand it yet."

You sighed. "You're not wrong. Dean never really learned how to express it, but he didn't exactly have a normal childhood. I'm just hoping I can help her--that is if I don't kill her for mouthing off all the damn time."

**********

Dean's POV:

I was surprised to see (Y/N) sitting at Jody's dining table, the older woman sitting across from her. (Y/N) looked stressed and I felt the strong urge to comfort her, even though I knew I couldn't.

"You're not gonna kill her," Jody assured my wife.

"I just might if she tells me I'm ruining her life one more time."

"Uh-oh. I've heard that one before. What's she think you're doing?"

"I told her she can't hunt."

"Well yeah, she's 13."

(Y/N) shook her head. "Ever. I told her she could never hunt."

Jody looked sad, but unsurprised. "Ahh..and she didn't take that well."

"No," (Y/N) said firmly. "No, she did not."

I was more than a little surprised (Y/N) had told Charlie she couldn't hunt. I mean, I didn't want her to hunt either, but it wasn't like (Y/N) to try and make life decisions for someone else.

"Did you tell her why?" Jody asked.

"I tried, but she was too angry to hear me," (Y/N) whispered. "I can't lose her, Jody--she's all I have."

Jody reached out and squeezed her hand. "She's not all you have, honey, but I get what you're saying. She's your daughter and you don't want that life for her."

"She's all I have left of Dean," she whispered so softly, Jody had to lean in to hear her.

"Oh honey," Jody said gently as she got up to give my wife a hug. She cried into Jody's shoulder and I suddenly felt like I was intruding on a very private moment I wasn't meant to see. I was about to go back to heaven when I heard (Y/N) speak again.

"Do you think I should tell her everything?"

Jody sighed as she thought about it. "Do you think she's ready to know the truth?"

"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "But I can't help but feel that if she only knew, she wouldn't want that life for herself...and maybe she would understand why I don't either."

I wasn't entirely sure what (Y/N) was referring to. I assumed she meant the general horror that was our lives--and all the pain and loss that went with it.

"Talk to Sam," Jody suggested. "See what he thinks."

(Y/N) nodded her agreement and I decided to stay with her until she spoke to Sam...I had a feeling I would want to know what happened next.

**********

"Hey Sammy," you said softly as he opened the door.

"Here to get Charlie?" he asked.

You nodded, but grabbed his arm to keep him from turning around to get her. "I...I wanted to talk to you first."

"Sure, (Y/N/N). You okay?"

You shook your head. "Did she mention how much she hates me?"

Sam sighed and guided you to his office, just off the front door. "She mentioned something about it, yeah."

"I told her she couldn't be a hunter."

"I'm surprised she'd even want to be, given how much death and pain it caused all of us."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Sam raised his eyebrows, but remained quiet, waiting for you to continue.

"I didn't tell her the whole story," you admitted. "About Dean's death."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't want her to know how awful it really was, so I told her he died instantly--painlessly."

Sam sighed softly. "(Y/N)..."

"I know! I know...I shouldn't have lied to her. But the truth is so much worse and I didn't want those images in her mind. I didn't want her to know how he suffered, how we watched him die knowing we couldn't save him."

A soft gasp behind you alerted you to the presence of another person. You spun around just in time to see your daughter peeking around the corner, a look of horror on her face. As soon as you made eye contact, Charlie raced away from you, running up the stairs and locking herself in the guest bedroom.

"Charlie!" you called as you ran after her, Sam close on your heels.

You knocked on the door and begged her to open it--to let you explain, but she refused.

"Baby, please just open the door," you begged.

Sam touched your arm and gestured something you didn't quite understand. He repeated the gesture and a look of comprehension spread across your face. You nodded and he left quickly to grab what he needed.

When he returned, he had his lock picking tools in his hand and he began to pick the bedroom door lock. When it clicked, signaling it was now unlocked, he stepped back and allowed you to enter.

**********

Dean's POV:

I was shocked by the events that had led to this moment, but at the same time, I didn't really blame my wife for lying to Charlie. In all honesty, I had done the same thing about a million times in my life--all under the guise of protection.

As (Y/N) stepped into the room, I followed her, eyes darting around the space, trying to find my daughter. I finally noticed her, curled up on the floor on the other side of the bed, back against the wall and knees pulled up to her chest.

(Y/N) clearly saw her too because she made her way over there, dropping to her knees in front of Charlie. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she whispered.

"You lied to me," Charlie seethed.

I saw (Y/N)'s eyes flutter closed for a moment, tears beginning to form. "You're right," she admitted softly. "I lied to you. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I can't change it. If you'll let me, I'd like to explain why...and tell you the truth."

"How do I know you won't lie again?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

Charlie finally made eye contact with her mother and my heart nearly broke at the hurt look on her face. She'd been crying pretty hard and her eyes were red and puffy. She looked conflicted, but finally reached out a hand and her mother grabbed it, pulling her to her feet.

(Y/N) and Charlie sat on the bed in silence for a moment before (Y/N) began to speak. "When you were little and you'd ask me where your dad was, it always hurt me to answer you. When you were born, I was still in mourning, and I never really dealt with his death until you were a few months old."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "Our lives were complicated in a way I could never fully describe to you. Your father always believed he would die young--I was just too naive to agree. His death broke me in ways I'm embarrassed to admit. He was my everything, Charlie, and for a while, I wished I could trade places with him."

She sighed, tears falling freely now. "But then I found out I was pregnant and I had to shift my whole mindset. My life became about taking care of you--protecting you--and nothing else mattered. I may not have always gone about it in the right way, but I never intended to hurt you."

Charlie sniffled a little and turned to face (Y/N) as she continued talking.

"The things this family has done--the lives we've saved, has earned us a bit of special treatment. I know I've told you a lot of things about monsters and demons and angels--all of those things were true. Heaven and Hell really do exist, and your dad really is in heaven."

She closed her eyes, thinking back to many years prior. "When you were a baby, your dad was given a gift by god. He was able to return to earth for one short hour to say goodbye to me and Uncle Sammy--and to meet you."

Charlie's eyes widened in shock. "He met me?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Yeah, baby, he did. He held you in his arms and told you how perfect you were--and how he wanted your life to be beautiful and amazing; sentiments I also share. It wasn't until that moment I really started to heal--to properly grieve."

"But what about his death?" Charlie whispered. "I heard you say it was awful and he suffered."

I watched agony flash across my wife's face and I wanted so badly to hold her--to take away the pain. Just like I wanted to shield Charlie from the memory (Y/N) was about to share.

"We've lost a lot of people in this life, Charlie. More people than I'd care to admit. The three incredible women you're named after all died as a direct result of hunting--of the life we chose. There were so many others that we loved deeply and lost painfully. Your dad was no different."

"The main parts of the story are true. We were hunting vampires--me, your dad, and your Uncle Sam. Everything seemed fine...it was a shocking cut and dry, easy hunt, but it turned into the worst night of my life. I heard your uncle scream my name and I just knew...I almost didn't turn around."

She sniffed softly and exhaled shakily. The painful memory was not one she had ever wanted to relive. "Your dad had been thrown by a vampire, like so many times before. I didn't even think anything of it, but when I turned around, I saw--" she cleared her throat, "I saw his feet dangling slightly, up against a post, with a piece of metal sticking out of his chest."

Charlie gasped and renewed tears sprang from her eyes.

(Y/N) didn't stop...once she'd begun, she couldn't stop. "I knew without him saying a word that he was dying--this was it. Your uncle and I had to stand there and watch him slowly fade away. I heard him take his last breath, taking a piece of my soul with him. It was hell, Charlie."

Charlie was crying harder as her mother turned to her, her own tears staining her cheeks. (Y/N) reached for her and Charlie dove into the comfort of her arms.

"I'm sorry, mama," she cried.

(Y/N) tightened her grip. "It's alright baby."

The two stayed like that for a long time, not separating until their tears had dried.

When Charlie sat up and wiped her face, she seemed almost sheepish.

(Y/N) turned to her with a sad smile. "So you see, that's why I don't want you to be a hunter. It's not that I think you couldn't do it or a desire to control you--I just don't wanna lose you."

Charlie nodded. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you," she whispered.

"It's okay, baby. I'm not mad."

I couldn't even begin to express the various emotions I was feeling in that moment. I was proud of my wife and heartbroken for her and Charlie. I missed them both terribly and I knew they felt the same. The ache in my chest was a constant reminder of the distance between us--and I didn't know if I could take much more of it.

********

"Well, baby," you said, looking at the ceiling. "Our little girl turns 16 today...and it scares the hell out of me."

You sighed and dragged yourself out of bed, heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

"She's got a boyfriend, you know," you continued. "I think I scared him a little bit when he came over last weekend to meet me. You'd be proud."

You brushed your teeth, humming quietly as you did.

"His name is Zack--he seems nice enough. I'm not too worried about her. She's a tough girl and knows how to fight, thanks to her mama."

You sighed as you ran a brush through your hair.

"I just can't believe she's two years away from adulthood. It blows my mind," you admitted softly. "It's days like today that I miss you more than ever. I wish you were here Dean, and I love so much."

You blew a kiss towards the ceiling before finishing getting ready.

When you went downstairs, Charlie was already at the table eating a bowl of cereal.

"My, my, you're up early," you teased.

"It's not every day a girl turns 16, mom," she teased in return.

"16...god that makes me feel old."

"You are old."

You threw a dish towel at her and she giggled as she blocked it. "Little shit," you mumbled.

"Fry cry from when you used to call me 'little one'."

You smiled. "You were so cute back then."

"What? Am I hideous now?"

You laughed and squeezed her in a tight hug. "You're the most beautiful girl I know."

You kissed her cheek and she groaned. "Gross, mom."

You laughed. "You know, someday you're gonna miss this. Soon, you'll be going off to college and leaving me in the dust. You'll get married and move away and one day you'll wake up and think 'man I wanna hug my mom'."

Charlie rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." She paused for a moment, her face sobering slightly. "Hey mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you date?"

You nearly choked on your coffee. "Pardon?"

"Why don't you ever date? You're pretty and smart--I know there's a lot of hot, single dads at school who would love to take you out."

"As much as I appreciate that darling, I'm not interested in dating."

"Why not?"

You sat your mug down. "Why the sudden interest in my dating life?"

"Because I'm going to college soon, mom--and I don't want you to be alone," she admitted softly.

You sighed. "Oh sweetheart. You don't need to worry about me, I'll be just fine. Besides, I'm not alone--not really."

"I don't mean friends mom, I mean someone to love you."

"To be honest with you, Charlie, I've thought about it...but I know, in my heart, no one will ever compare to your dad. No one could ever love me the way he did, nor could I ever love someone as much as I love him. So I don't mind being alone--I know for a fact I will see your dad again. That's a gift most people will never have."

"I want a love like that," Charlie said quietly.

You smiled. "I hope you will someday, baby. I really do."

She smiled and nodded, looking down at the last of her cereal. "It's kind of nice knowing heaven is real--like not just having faith, but knowing."

You glanced up, a small smile on your face. "Yeah it is, sweetheart. Yeah it is."

**********

"Mama," Charlie whimpered as she practically barged through your front door and straight into your arms.

"What's wrong baby? What happened?"

"Steven broke up with me," she cried.

"Oh sweetheart," you said gently. "Come on in and sit down. Let me make you some chamomile tea."

Charlie sniffled and nodded, coming into the house and sitting down at the kitchen island to watch you as you prepared her tea.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

"He said I wasn't good enough for him--that he's going places and I'll just 'hold him back'."

You closed your eyes and your grip tightened on the tea kettle in your hand. You felt the strong urge to go find this kid and smack him around a little, but you knew that wouldn't solve anything. It certainly wouldn't fix your daughter's broken heart. For the first time, you were glad Dean wasn't here--you knew he would have beaten the shit outta the kid for hurting his baby girl.

"He's obviously an idiot--and an asshole, for that matter."

Charlie sniffled again. "But I love him."

You sighed softly, turning around to face her. "I know, sweetie. But I also know he's not the right man for you."

"How do you know?"

"He would have never said those things to you if he was. If he loved you and I mean truly loved you, you would be his priority."

Charlie nodded, but still looked horribly sad. You finished making her tea and sat the cup down in front of her with a soft smile.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. It's going to hurt for a while--and that's alright--it's okay to feel. But you're going to dust yourself off and keep going."

"What if I never find anyone?" she whispered.

"You're 19, Charlie," you said gently. "You've got so much time. I was 31 when I married your father."

She looked up at you with sad eyes. "I wanna find a love like you and daddy."

You inhaled deeply. "That's all I've ever wanted for you, sweetheart--and I know your dad would want the same thing. I'm sure it's hard to not have relationship role models in your parents, but at least you know how we feel about each other."

Charlie shook her head qucikly. "You guys are my relationship role models. Just because dad isn't here, doesn't mean I don't look up to him and you. I've heard stories about how much he loved you my entire life--from everyone, Uncle Sam, Aunt Donna, Aunt Eileen, Aunt Jody, Claire, Alex...everyone. And I've seen how much you love him...even now. It's been 19 years since he died and your love hasn't diminished."

Tears filled your eyes. You were glad she knew how much her parents loved each other, even if she never saw them together.

You came around the island and took Charlie's hand, guiding her to the couch in the living room. She sat down beside you and you held her close, letting her cry softly into your chest.

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart. Someday, you're going to meet someone who makes you laugh, holds you when you cry, supports all of your goals and ambitions, and loves you for who you are. They'll treat you right, respect you, and fight for you even when it's difficult."

You kissed the top of her head and continued, "I hope that person makes you feel amazing--like you're the only woman in the world to them. I want you to be loved fully--by someone who sees your value, your worth. And I hope you love them with the same kind of endless passion."

Charlie sniffed and held you a little tighter.

"I love your dad with everything I have--he's the other half of my soul. He loved me infinitely more than I deserved and I am incredibly honored to have experienced that kind of love. All I want is for you to experience a love like that--a love that lasts forever...death be damned."

**********

Dean's POV:

I listened to my daughter cry over her first broken heart and I watched my wife comfort her in a way only someone as amazing as she is could do.

I listened to Charlie say her mother and I were her role models--that she hoped to find a love like ours one day.

I cried as I listened to my wife tell our daughter her hopes for the future--and the love she hoped Charlie would experience. I cried even harder as (Y/N) tells her the kind of love we shared--the kind that lasts even in death.

I can't help but share the same hope as my wife--echo the same prayers for her future. She deserves the world, and that includes a love story for the ages.

I watch, with tears in my eyes, as my wife glances up at the ceiling and mouths 'I love you' before blowing a kiss. This time, I whisper the words back and blow a kiss to her, hoping somehow she can sense it.

**********

"He's just such a great guy," Charlie gushed.

You looked over at Sam, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Does he treat you right?" he asked.

Charlie nodded eagerly. "He's so good to me. He's always respectful and sweet--I...I think I love him."

Your eyes widened and you gave Sam a pointed look.

"Why don't you bring him by for dinner on Saturday?" Sam suggested.

"That would be great!" She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thanks Uncle Sam!"

She rushed out the door, giddy in the way only new love could be.

"So you're gonna research the hell outta him, right?" you asked.

"Obviously," Sam agreed.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Sam had completed his research and to your happy surprise, there didn't seem to be anything concerning in this guy's past. Of course, you took precautions, as you so often did with Charlie's friends and boyfriends. You needed to make sure she was safe.

Sam had laid out the silver dinnerware and you'd blessed all the water in the house, just in case. You could never be too careful--you were still Winchesters after all.

When Charlie and her boyfriend, Paul, arrived, you were surprised by how gentlemanly he was. He'd brought you flowers, which you thought was a very sweet gesture, especially since they were lilies--your favorite.

"That's so sweet of you, Paul," you said warmly. "Lilies are my favorite."

He smiled. "I asked Charlie what your favorite was so I could get you something you would like."

You were surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but it gave you a very positive feeling in your chest. A feeling you could see reflected in your daughter's eyes.

The more you talked with him and the more information you got, the more you liked him. He was genuinely kind and caring, and you could see how much he cared for Charlie.

He made her laugh, he made her smile, and he was gently affectionate with her in a way that reminded you of Dean. In fact, there was a lot about him that made you think of Dean...and that made you extremely happy for your daughter.

Eileen, Charlie, and Paul were sitting in the living room after dinner, while you and Sam cleared the table and did dishes. You'd had to practically force Paul to go sit down. He was very insistent on helping you. Normally, you would have happily taken his help, but you really wanted to talk to Sam alone.

"So what do you think?" you asked softly.

"He doesn't seem to be any kind of monster," Sam mumbled. "And he treats Charlie well."

"I like him," you admitted. "He, uhh--he reminds me of Dean."

"Really?" Sam asked in surprise.

"The way he looks at Charlie...the way he makes her laugh and smile...the way she looks at him. All of it reminds me of my relationship with Dean. It's what I've always wanted for her."

Sam smiled. "You must really like him to compare him to Dean."

You chuckled. "You're not wrong. I'm happy for her, but I'm not trying to marry her off yet."

Sam laughed. "I know you're not, don't worry."

Later that night, Charlie asked you what you thought of Paul and you repeated what you'd told Sam earlier.

"He reminds you of dad?" Charlie whispered.

You nodded. "I liked him very much."

"So do I, mom."

You pulled her close, hugging her tightly. "I'm happy for you baby."

"Thanks...I'm glad you approve."

"So does your Uncle Sam, for the record."

"That actually makes me feel really good," Charlie admitted. "It's almost as good as having a seal of approval from dad."

You smiled. "I know your dad would like him too, sweetheart. He makes you happy and that's all we've ever wanted for you."

**********

"Today's the day," you whispered, looking at the framed picture of your husband. "Our baby girl is getting married."

It had been two years since you'd first met Paul and the longer you knew him, the more you liked him. He was the right match for Charlie and you couldn't even begin to describe how happy you were for her. She deserved to be loved by a good man--to experience a love as powerful as her parents have.

You couldn't believe they were getting married today. It was the next step in your daughter's life and it brought you so much joy, and perhaps a little sadness. It was the end of an era. Your little girl was about to start a new life with the man she loved...and it made you miss your other half.

You'd always known today would be difficult. Dean wouldn't be there to walk his daughter down the aisle and it broke your heart, but that didn't mean he couldn't be present. You had a framed picture of him with you at Charlie's suggestion--a way to keep his memory with you on this special day.

His picture was wonderful, but you craved his presence--his soul. You wanted to feel like he was with you, and you knew he'd want to witness the events of the day.

"Hey baby," you said to the ceiling. "I really need you here, Dean."

You waited a few moments in silence, hoping he had heard you.

**********

Dean's POV:

I was lounging in a chair in the Roadhouse, listening to Charlie and Ash have a heated debate about some nerdy computer thing I couldn't possibly understand. Just listening to them made me smile--it felt good to be surrounded by so many people I'd loved and lost.

I took a slow drink of my whiskey and chuckled softly at their antics. I made eye contact with Ellen over the tops of their heads and she had a similar expression on her face.

"I really need you here, Dean."

I heard (Y/N)'s voice in my mind and knew I needed to go to her immediately. She didn't sound distressed, but I could tell she needed me by the tone of her voice.

I stood up and crossed the room towards the bar where Ellen was standing. "I need to go check on (Y/N/N)."

Ellen nodded. "Use the backroom. I'll keep everyone out."

"Thanks, Ellen."

I went into the backroom and sat down. I closed my eyes and pictured the sweetest face in the world--my beloved (Y/N). When I opened my eyes, I was in a place I didn't recognize, looking at a woman I knew to be my wife--even if she didn't quite look like the woman I always pictured.

She was older than even the last time I saw her, but she was no less beautiful. Her curves were softer, her hair was graying, and the lines on her face were deeper. None of that mattered to me, she still stole my heart with just a glance.

She was wearing a long silky robe, which only increased my confusion. We were in a strange place, and she wasn't wearing proper clothes.

"Well, handsome, I think I've given you enough time," she said softly. "You're probably wondering where we are..." she gestured around. "Today is a very special day...it's Charlie's wedding day."

I gasped--I hadn't realized enough time had passed for her to have met a man worthy of marriage...hell, I didn't even know who she was marrying.

"I don't know if you've met Paul yet, but he's a wonderful man, Dean--and he's so good to Charlie. You would really like him, I just know it. He even reminds me of you," she said softly. "He loves her the way you love me. It's what we've always wanted for her."

I couldn't believe my daughter was getting married, but if her soon-to-be-husband was as great as (Y/N) described, then I was beyond happy for her. I wasn't going to miss a single moment of this day, no matter how long it took.

"I've gotta get my dress on and go check on (Y/N). Feel free to go find her--I'll be there soon."

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to stay for that...she was still my wife, after all, but it felt creepy to watch her change. Instead, I went to find my daughter.

It didn't take me long to find her and when I did, my heart clenched in my chest. She looked so much like her mother it was almost frightening, the only difference was her eyes.

I had no idea how old she was, but I would have guessed she was around 28--if only based on how her mother had looked at that age. She had long, beautiful hair that was styled in some fancy wedding do. A woman was finishing her makeup and there were other girls in the room with her chatting away as they got ready.

I didn't want to see something I couldn't unsee, so I decided to go back to (Y/N)'s room until the ceremony began.

**********

You smoothed your dress and took a deep breath before entering the bridal suite to check on your daughter. She was just preparing to put on her dress when you entered.

You inhaled sharply and tears stung your eyes as you took in her beautiful face--she almost seemed to sparkle. "You look beautiful, baby," you whispered.

"Thanks mom. I was wondering where you were--I almost sent one of the girls to come get you."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

You crossed the room and hugged her tightly. You helped her into her dress, zipping up the back and looking in the mirror with her.

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Nervous," she admitted.

"Don't be. You're marrying a great man. You have nothing to be nervous about."

"Were you nervous on your wedding day?"

You chuckled lightly. "Not even a little."

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "I knew I wanted to marry your father and I knew he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for me--nothing else mattered."

Charlie smiled and you saw some of her nerves fall away. "I wish daddy was here right now," she whispered.

"He is, sweetheart--I know it."

"How do you know?"

"I told him I needed him. He would never ignore that call."

Charlie smiled tearily and you waved your hand in front of her face to dry the tears.

"Don't mess up your makeup, sweetie."

She laughed and you placed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks mom," she murmured.

"You ready?"

She nodded. "I'm ready."

"Then let's go."

**********

Dean's POV:

I waited patiently outside of the bridal suite for my wife and daughter to emerge. I was rendered absolutely speechless when I caught a glimpse of Charlie--she looked even more beautiful than before. Even better, she looked so incredibly happy.

I followed the bridal party as they moved towards the main hall where the ceremony was taking place. I watched as everyone began to line up and I started to wonder who would be walking Charlie down the aisle.

As I had this thought, my brother appeared with something in his hand. He looked older too, of course, but he still looked like my little brother to me.

"I think you forgot something," Sam said to (Y/N) as he handed her what appeared to be a picture frame.

She took it with a teary expression and hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Sammy."

He kissed the top of her head before embracing Charlie. "You look beautiful, Charlie."

"Thanks, Uncle Sam."

"Alright, I've gotta go sit down. Your mother will kill me if I'm late." He addressed his words to a tall young man I quickly recognized as my namesake, Sam's son, Dean.

"Better go fast, the procession is about to start," (Y/N) teased.

I'd assumed Sam would be walking Charlie down the aisle, but now I was truly confused. Perhaps (Y/N/N) was going to do it.

The doors opened and the music poured out as the wedding party began the long walk down the aisle. Before long, the only people who remained were my wife and my daughter.

"You ready, sweetheart?" (Y/N) asked.

Charlie nodded. She took the picture frame from her mother and breathed deeply. She kissed her hand and then placed it on the picture with a small smile. I looked at the picture and surprise lit up my face. It was a picture of me...

She handed it back to her mother with a smile.

"In a way, he's still walking you down the aisle," (Y/N) whispered softly.

"It's perfect," Charlie affirmed.

The wedding march began and (Y/N) squeezed Charlie's arm gently. The two of them began the walk down the aisle and I followed behind them, proud to be there for this powerful moment.

This was the proudest moment of my life--or I guess afterlife. My daughter was happy, my wife was happy--I couldn't have asked for anything better.

**********

"You didn't say it would be this awful," Charlie accused you.

You chuckled lightly. "Of course I did, but you didn't want to listen."

Charlie groaned as a contraction hit her.

You looked up at Paul, who looked slightly terrified. "You alright there, Paul?" you asked gently.

"I feel a little anxious, that's all," he reassured you.

You smiled, thinking back to the day you gave birth to Charlie. Sam's face had looked very similar to the way Paul looked right now.

Much like you, Charlie was tough as nails, and you knew she would make it through childbirth just as you had. "You're doing great, honey," you murmured.

She moaned in pain, squeezing both your hand and Paul's. You winced slightly, but let her keep squeezing. You soothed her gently, brushing her hair back from her face, much like Eileen had done for you 30 years prior.

You almost couldn't believe it had been that long. It was hard to believe how fast the time had gone by, but part of you still felt as though time was too slow. You wanted as much time with your daughter as possible, but your desire to be reunited with Dean was almost as strong. Love was complicated that way.

Charlie's nails biting into your skin roused you from your thoughts and you focused back on your daughter, trying to help her through one of the most incredible--and painful--moments of her life.

Ultimately, Charlie was in labor for a grand total of 14 hours before giving birth to a very healthy baby girl. You watched proudly as she held her newborn daughter in her arms and whispered to her much like you'd done to Charlie when she was born.

"You did so well, sweetheart," you said softly as you stroked Charlie's hair.

She looked up at you with those piercing green eyes of hers--emotion filling every part of her face. "She's so perfect."

You smiled, remembering the past as if it were yesterday. "Just like her mama," you murmured.

Tears filled Charlie's eyes and you kissed her forehead gently. You were just as emotional as she was, but you did your best to hide it. You didn't want to burden her with your emotions.

"Do you have a name picked out?" you asked.

Charlie nodded. "Lillian, after Paul's mother."

You knew Paul's mother had passed away a few years prior, so you thought the sentiment was especially sweet. "Lillian is a good name."

"Her middle name is Deanna...in honor of dad."

You inhaled sharply, surprised by how a simple name stirred up so much emotion. "He would love that, baby. In fact, Deanna is your great grandmother's name. Your grandmother named her children after her parents, Deanna and Samuel...Dean and Sam."

"I never knew that," Charlie whispered.

"I guess I never really thought about it until now."

Charlie looked up at Paul. "What about her last name?"

Charlie had chosen to keep her last name when she got married. She loved the name and the history that came along with it--plus she wanted to honor her dad, a sentiment you appreciated.

"I think we should hyphenate it," Paul answered.

"Lillian Deanna Winchester-Riley," Charlie said slowly. "I like that."

Paul smiled. "I like it too."

You smiled at the young couple and your sweet granddaughter, enjoying the moment as long as you could. There was so much you wanted to say, but now wasn't the time. You wanted this day to be nothing but happiness and love--Charlie deserved it.

**********

Dean's POV:

It had been several days since I'd last heard from (Y/N) and I was beginning to worry. Usually she talked to me pretty often, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time.

I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, so I decided to check in on her--just in case.

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find myself in a large doctor's office. I looked around the expansive room filled with several large comfortable reclining chairs, confusion flooding my mind. I didn't see (Y/N), but I did notice several people sitting back in their chairs, hooked up to IVs and monitors, and I had a feeling this wasn't a good place.

I began to walk down the rows of chairs, examining every face I came across. It didn't take me long to figure out this was a cancer treatment facility and these patients were likely receiving chemotherapy.

At the end of one of the rows, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting alone, reading a novel. My instincts told me to go to her and as I got closer, I realized I knew the (y/e/c) eyes as well as I knew my own.

"(Y/N)," I whispered as I sunk to my knees in front of her. She looked so much older than the last time I'd seen her, but I knew without a doubt that was due to her illness. She was wearing a pretty bandana on her head to hide her lack of hair and she looked painfully thin.

It broke my heart to see her like this--and it made me angry. Out of all the people in the world, (Y/N) deserved this the least. She was a hero, for god's sake. She'd saved the world as many times as I had, and she was a genuinely good person. She didn't deserve to suffer like this.

"Hey Miss (Y/N)," a woman's voice said from behind me. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/N) looked up at the young woman and smiled. "I'm alright, Cynthia, all things considered."

Cynthia nodded, a sad smile on her face. "Any nausea?"

(Y/N) shook her head. "I guess I'm used to it."

"Alright, well let me know if you need anything. You've got another hour left and then your daughter will be here to pick you up."

(Y/N) nodded and I watched the nurse walk away. When I turned my attention back to (Y/N), I could tell she felt terrible. The chemo was killing her as much as the cancer--she was becoming a shell of the woman I loved so dearly.

I almost couldn't stand to see her like this--the urge to run was one I had to suppress. (Y/N) needed me now more than ever and I would be damned if I left her side for more than a moment. She might not know I was there, but I hoped my presence would somehow comfort her.

I pressed my lips to her forehead in a soft kiss she couldn't feel and I whispered how much I loved her. As much as I wanted to be with her again, I needed her to survive--Charlie needed her more than me right now, so I couldn't be selfish. I would have done anything to make her healthy, but this was one problem I couldn't solve.

**********

You weren't exactly surprised when you'd been diagnosed with cancer three years prior, shortly before the birth of your first grandchild. You didn't tell Charlie until after Lillian was born...you hadn't wanted to worry her.

Chemo had been hell--maybe not quite as bad as what Dean had described hell to be like, but close enough. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy. You'd spent an entire year going to treatment after treatment, seeing doctor after doctor, and feeling like death the entire time.

You'd lost more than your hair...you'd lost your happiness and your spark--you'd lost yourself. Even now, two years in remission, you still didn't quite feel like your old self. You weren't sure you ever would be...life had simply thrown too many obstacles at you, and you were bound to break at some point.

The two constants in your life during your illness had been Charlie and Sam. You weren't surprised by either one's presence and you appreciated the love and care--even when they were a bit overbearing.

Now that you were healthy again, Charlie had been focusing more on her husband and two children--having just given birth to her second child.

You couldn't fault her for it, after all you'd told her you were completely fine. The only person who saw through you was Sam, but then again, he always had.

"Speak of the devil," you murmured softly as Sam walked into the living room.

"Were you talking about me?" Sam teased lightly.

"Technically, I was thinking about you."

"Okay, good. That's less concerning. For a moment, I thought you'd been talking to yourself."

"I tend to keep those conversations internal."

"You tend to keep everything internal," he admonished as he sat down beside you.

You sighed, hating how right he was.

"So come on. How are you really feeling?"

"Honestly, Sammy, I'm okay. I'm neither good, nor bad...I just am."

Sam exhaled deeply and nodded. "Has therapy helped at all?"

You shook your head. "I can't really explain what I'm feeling to a therapist, ya know? They wouldn't understand--hell, they'd probably think I was nuts."

Sam raised his eyebrows knowingly. "It's Dean again, isn't it?"

Tears filled your eyes. "I miss him now more than I ever have before--with the exception of the weeks after he first died. I can't explain it, but somehow almost dying has made me want to let go...to be with him again."

"I can't even begin to understand how you're feeling," Sam admitted. "But that doesn't mean I won't be here to listen and do what I can to help you. I don't want you to die anytime soon, but I know how it feels to welcome death with open arms."

You laid your head on his shoulder. "It's almost as if cancer took the joy out of life. I thought for sure I'd feel it again when I got better, but it's just not there. I don't want to die, but I'm tired, Sam--I'm so incredibly tired."

He knew what you meant without you having to explain yourself further. He simply wrapped his arms around you and held you close, allowing you to cry against his chest. He would have done anything for you, but he knew this time you were beyond his saving.

**********

It was your annual visit to your oncologist and Charlie had decided to come with you. You'd been in remission for five years now, but you had a feeling of dread you couldn't describe.

Charlie must have sensed it because she demanded to come with you to your appointment. You felt a bit like an invalid, having your daughter come with you, but you knew she was doing it out of love and concern.

"How have you been feeling lately, (Y/N)?" your doctor asked.

"A bit tired, but otherwise okay," you answered.

The doctor nodded, a sad look on her face. It was a look you knew well--you'd seen it before. "Just tell me," you inisisted.

Both Charlie and the doctor looked surprised, but the doctor was the first to recover. "I'm afraid your scans aren't looking good."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath--both knowing and fearing her next words.

"It looks like the cancer is back...and it's spread."

You sighed heavily, but didn't cry--you'd already accepted the inevitability of death and you weren't surprised it was arriving sooner than you'd expected.

Charlie, on the other hand, was devastated. You heard her gasp out a soft sob, so you turned your attention to her, wrapping your arms around her to comfort her.

"How long?" you asked the doctor softly.

"With chemo and maybe some radiation, a year, maybe a year and a half."

Charlie's soft crying intensified, prompting you to hold onto her a little tighter.

"And without treatment?"

"Wait, mom--no," Charlie said quickly.

Your eyes locked on to the doctor's gray ones and she exhaled softly. "A few weeks--two months at most."

Charlie looked up at you, bright green eyes begging you for something you knew you couldn't give.

You smiled sadly, tears of your own filling your eyes. "I can't do it again, baby--I just can't. I don't want to live the last bit of my life suffering like I did with the last round. I'm 70 years old--I've lived my life, and I'm ready to let go."

Charlie sniffled. "But I'm not ready."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. We're never ready for the people we love to leave us. I don't want to leave you, but I can't stay forever."

"How am I supposed to live without you?" she whispered.

You smiled. "Luckily, you have a loving family who will support you through this. Losing someone is never easy, but you'll get through it, sweetheart. I'll be going to join your dad, so we'll both be watching over you."

She seemed to find some comfort in this, but you could still see the pain she was feeling. It broke your heart to leave her, but it was time. You were ready to go home--to Dean, who had always been your home.

**********

Telling Sam you were going to die had been one of the hardest things you'd ever had to do. He hated the idea of losing you almost as much as Charlie did, but he understood why you couldn't go through treatment again.

You'd done the rounds--saying goodbye to all the people you loved who still remained on earth. You would miss them terribly, but you knew this wasn't goodbye--you'd see them all again someday.

For the last week, you'd been in hospice. The end was coming soon and you were ready, even if your daughter wasn't. You were on enough pain medication to take down an elephant, but you managed to stay awake long enough to talk when you had visitors.

Today was one of those days. You'd already said your goodbyes to everyone else you loved, but Charlie was the one you knew would be the hardest. You'd tried to prepare her for this moment, but you knew it wasn't easy for her. You wanted to reassure her everything was going to be alright--she was going to be okay.

"I wanted to talk to you, sweetie," you said softly, interrupting your daughter's story.

"Sure, mom," she murmured, taking your hand. "What is it?"

"I'm ready to go," you whispered. "But I can't leave until you let me go."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I'm not ready."

"Yes you are. You're the strongest person I know and you've got a loving husband who will help you through this." You squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Besides, you know where I'm going...how many people can say that?"

She nodded, sniffling softly. "Not many."

"Exactly. But you know. You know heaven is real. You know that all the people we love are there waiting for us. You know I'll always be with you--that I'll be checking in on you any chance I get. That knowledge is a gift, Charlie...the greatest gift I could possibly give you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing your words to sink in. She hated letting you go, but she knew you were right. It hurt her to see you in pain and she could tell you needed to go.

"I will always love you, Charlie. Always. You're the best parts of me--and your dad. I've been honored to be your mother, to watch you grow up, to see the amazing woman you've become. I'm so proud of you in every way a mother can be proud of her daughter. You will always be my little girl--and I will never ever leave your heart."

Charlie laid her head on your chest, letting the tears fall in earnest. "I know how much you love me, mom, and I'm so thankful that I've had all these years with you. I love you so much and I'll miss you always. But I know it's time for you to move on...and you're right, I'll be okay. So it's okay...you can let go now. Go be with dad...where you belong."

Those words warmed your dying heart. They were what you needed to hear--what you needed Charlie to say. This was it. The last few moments of your life on earth. For many people, this moment would spark fear, but for you it was a welcome relief. As you'd told your daughter, you knew where you were going--you were going home.

**********

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find yourself in an open field. The sun was shining brightly and birds were singing softly. For a moment, you were lost--unsure of where you were or how you got there.

You looked down at your hands, surprised to see how soft and smooth they were. You'd become accustomed to the wrinkles of old age, but it appeared those were gone.

"Hello, (Y/N)," said a familiar voice from behind you.

You turned around and greeted the young man with a smile. "Jack!"

You hugged him without thinking--something you'd always done when you'd both been on earth. You supposed thinking of him as a 'young man' wasn't quite accurate anymore, but that's how you'd probably always see him.

Jack returned your embrace with a gentle smile. "Welcome to heaven."

You let go of him and nodded. "I, uhh, I think I'm a little younger than I was when I died." You held your hands up as evidence.

Jack nodded. "You are the same age you were when Dean passed away. I thought you would appreciate that."

You blinked away tears and nodded quickly. "Thank you," you whispered. You were about to ask where Dean was when Jack nodded towards a building in the distance.

"He's in there."

You glanced towards the building, eyes narrowing to read the signage above the door. A warm smile graced your face as you realized it was Harvelle's Roadhouse--the very place you'd met Dean.

You turned back to Jack to thank him, but he'd disappeared. You murmured another thank you to him, knowing he would hear you. He was god, after all.

You walked the relatively short distance to the Roadhouse, stopping outside the door to take a deep breath. It might not have been all that long for Dean, but for you it had been 38 years.

You knew you were more than ready to see him, so you pulled the door open and stepped inside. It felt exactly like stepping into the past--like being embraced by a favorite memory.

**********

Dean's POV:

I heard the doors open, but I didn't think much of it. People were always coming and going from the Roadhouse. It was a popular establishment, even in heaven.

I didn't even think anything when I heard Ellen greeting someone happily. I was too engrossed in the old western show I was watching on the TV above the bar.

It wasn't until I heard Bobby say "(Y/N)" that I started to pay attention--the spell finally broken. I looked around, trying to figure out why he'd said her name, when I made eye contact with the most beautiful (y/e/c) eyes I'd ever seen. I would know those eyes anywhere.

I jumped out of my seat and took a few steps in her direction, whispering her name like I was afraid she would disappear if I said it too loud.

She smiled at me--a warm, loving expression I'd missed more than I could express. "Hi, Dean."

Hearing her voice pushed me into action. I moved towards her at the same time she moved towards me--meeting in the middle in an embrace I'd craved for longer than I'd care to admit.

Neither of us spoke, we didn't need to. Just feeling her in my arms again was better than any words she could have said.

She looked up at me, affection warming her features, and I couldn't help but stare. She was so beautiful it hurt--if I hadn't already been dead, I would have passed out from lack of oxygen. I couldn't breathe as I looked at her--hell, I didn't even want to blink.

She reached up and touched my face, and I leaned into her caress. I'd missed the feeling of her gentle hands and I reveled in the feeling now.

She gently tugged on my head, pulling me down towards her. She stood up on her toes so she could press her lips against mine in a kiss more passionate than any we'd ever shared.

**********

Seeing Dean for the first time in almost 40 years was a shocking experience. He was just as handsome as you remembered, perhaps even more so.

You knew just by the way he looked at you that his love hadn't diminished in any way--just as yours hadn't.

Your embrace was wonderful, but it wasn't until your lips met his that you really felt the powerful emotions coursing through you. You had no desire to ever stop kissing him and you had a feeling he felt the same way.

You poured all your love for him into the kiss, and you could feel how much he loved you in return. It was more passionate--more powerful--than any kiss you'd ever shared with him on earth. You weren't sure if it was a heaven thing or simply because you'd been apart for so long.

When you finally separated, he looked at you with adoring eyes, hands still holding you firmly against him. You had a feeling he was afraid to let you go--a sentiment you shared.

He seemed to remember there were lots of witnesses around, which only made him more protective of you.

"Do you wanna see where I live?" he whispered quietly.

"Of course."

He addressed the room without taking his eyes off you. "I'm sure we'd all love to catch up and reminisce, but it'll have to wait. My beautiful wife and I have some catching up of our own to do."

You heard some knowing chuckles, which neither of you acknowledged. Instead, you allowed him to lead you out of the building and onto a gently sloping trail.

At the end of the trail sat a lovely little house, complete with a white picket fence--the kind of storybook ending neither of you had gotten in life.

Dean led you into the house and you instantly fell in love with it. There was just something about it that felt like home. Perhaps it was the man standing beside you, a hopeful look on his handsome face.

"Do you like it?"

"It's perfect," you said honestly.

He seemed to relax again, a small smirk dancing on his lips. "Wanna see the bedroom?"

You grinned. "I'd love to."

He led you down the hall to the bedroom. To your surprise, the room looked identical to the bedroom you'd shared at the bunker. You didn't expect such a simple thing to make you so emotional, but you couldn't help the tears that sprang to your eyes.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

You nodded. "I just didn't realize how much I missed this room."

He smiled. "It's the only place that ever felt like home."

You shook your head. "Anywhere with you felt like home to me."

He turned to you suddenly, pressing his body against yours as he pulled you in for another heated kiss. His desire for you was evident in his actions and you had to admit, you wanted him just as badly.

"I'm glad you took your time," he admitted.

You pulled back, a little surprised at his words.

"Not because I didn't wanna be with you, baby. You know that," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to live a beautiful, full life."

You smiled warmly. "I did, Dean. I really did...but I never stopped missing you."

"I know," he admitted. "I was there for a lot of it."

"I always hoped you were."

He smiled at you again, before leaning down to place soft kisses to any piece of exposed skin he could.

"I have something I wanna try," he whispered against your skin.

"Mhmm?" you hummed softly.

"I wanna see if there's a limit to the number of times I can make you cum...it is heaven after all," he murmured huskily.

You gasped. "Dean!"

"Only if you want to..."

"Take me to bed, Mr. Winchester," you whispered. "I think we've both waited long enough."

"Anything for you, Mrs. Winchester...but don't rush me. Now it's my turn to take my time."

You giggled as he tossed you onto the bed, lips never far from each other's skin. You made love more times than either of you could count, trying to make up for all the lost time. Neither of you kept track of the number of times you fell apart in each other's arms...all that mattered was the love that still sparked between you, a love that even death could never diminish.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean Winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x wife!reader #dean winchester x wife reader

[nothorses]

I saw your tags on the post about trick or treaters not speaking and I am v interested in hearing more of your thoughts on the concept of “developmental delays”! I‘ve seen the idea that disability is a construct, but I’m not as familiar with the idea that development is also a construct. You have really great takes as an educator and someone who like, actually GETS how kids work, so I am interested in your thoughts!

I also know that posting on this subject might be poking the bear, so it is 1000% cool if you would rather not comment 💜 Tysm!

Oh I'm happy to talk about it! I love talking about this stuff, thank you for asking me to 💙

This isn't exactly new ground; there's been plenty of research into and writing on the subject, and deconstructing "development" as a static concept was, ironically, a huge part of my most recent development class.

The idea is that our understanding of "benchmarks" of development, which informs the larger concept of development as a whole, is heavily rooted in the assumption that Western culture is The Standard. We prioritize walking, talking, reading, and writing, which means we cultivate these skills in our children from a young age, which means they develop those skills more quickly than they do others.

To use one of my favorite examples from Rogoff, 2003, Orienting Concepts and Ways of Understanding the Cultural Nature of Human Development:

Although U.S. middle-class adults often do not trust children below about age 5 with knives, among the Efe of the Democratic Republic of Congo, infants routinely use machetes safely (Wilkie, personal communication, 1989). Likewise, Fore (New Guinea) infants handle knives and fire safely by the time they are able to walk (Sorenson, 1979). Aka parents of Central Africa teach 8- to 10-month-old infants how to throw small spears and use small pointed digging sticks and miniature axes with sharp metal blades: "Training for autonomy begins in infancy. Infants are allowed to crawl or walk to whatever they want in camp and allowed to use knives, machetes, digging sticks, and clay pots around camp. Only if an infant begins to crawl into a fire or hits another child do parents or others interfere with the infant’s activity. It was not unusual, for instance, to see an eight month old with a six-inch knife chopping the branch frame of its family’s house. By three or four years of age children can cook themselves a meal on the fire, and by ten years of age Aka children know enough subsistence skills to live in the forest alone if need be. (Hewlett, 1991, p. 34)" (pg. 5)

In the US we would view "letting an 8-month-old handle a knife" as a sign of severe neglect, but the emphasis here is placed on the fact that these children are taught to do these things safely. They don't learn out of necessity, or stumble into knives when nobody is watching; they learn with care, support, and safety in mind, just like children here learn. It makes me wonder if Aka parents would view our children's lack of basic survival skills with the same concern and disdain as USAmerican parents would view their children's inability to read.

Do we disallow our children from handling knives because it is objectively, fundamentally unsafe for a child of that age to do so- because even teaching them is developmentally impossible- or is that just a cultural assumption?

What other cultural assumptions do we have about child development?

Which ties in neatly with various social-based models of disability, particularly learning and, of course, developmental disabilities. If your culture doesn't value the things you are good at, and you happen to struggle with the things it does value, what kinds of assumptions is it likely to make about you? How will it pathologize you? What happens to that culture if it understands those values to be arbitrary, in order to accommodate your unique existence?

#education #childcare #disability #ftr I am specifically saying that it adds an important and interesting dimension to models of disability based on the social model #because disability is a complex combination of social/cultural and legitimately limiting factors that people to this day #are still trying to define in an inclusive and effective way #(and probably will be forever because it's so tied up in social/cultural and political stuff) #I dont want to imply that disability is 100% entirely made up- but it also isn't 100% entirely 'objective physical reality' or whatever. #its complicated. ill have better thoughts when im not just like 5 weeks into my first disability studies class lmao

[yaut-jaknowit]

The Hunt

Pairing: Gawtin (Female Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Primal play, gawtin hunts you down, hunting, teasing, light edging, fingering, impact play, smacking, rough sex, lots dirty talk, use of 'girl', praise kink, multiple orgasms, mind numbing orgasms.

Word Count: 5880 (11 pages on word... damn. I'm down for this Yautja)

Summary: As you cooked dinner for Gawtin and Qui-oky, the former arrives home. But you notice something different about her. She's... seems to be more in her predatory state. Her eyes narrowed on you. Only on you. She towers over you, crowding you into the counter as you cooked, holding her child. She leans down and whispers, "Run."

Author Note: I'm seriously down for Gawtin. Like badly. She could rip off my head and I would thank her. Hope you guys love her just as much as do.

Ao3

Masterlist

Eyes. Sharp, deadly eyes followed every step that you made around the kitchen. Without hesitation, you knew who it was. No one else could stare at you like that. You trembled but stayed focus on the task on hand. It was your turn to feed the family tonight. Best of all, it was something you had personally gone out and hunted yourself. All by yourself.

Pride filled your stomach as you sprinkled some spices Gawtin got from the market lately. They were like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. Unlike the ones you’ve seen on earth, these had blues, purples, and even pinks in the mixture. Whatever it was, the name unreadable, was delicious on any meat you put it on. You were excited for tonight’s dinner.

Despite your previous experience with cooking for Gawtin, times that shall not be remembered, you had hoped this would turn out better. It had to be. This was all for her, even though her kind doesn’t need to eat meat cooked. In a way, you were gifting something to her. Due to the fact you weren’t the greatest at hunting. You wield pencils, not machetes.

Besides all that, Gawtin still cares for you. She lets you be at her side with her child. She lets you care for him like your own. Qui seems to love you just the same, ooman or Yautja.

Speaking of the devil…

Qui’s hands slapped against the wooden floor of the kitchen. The child marched his way through the area as if he owned it. A mission playing inside of his mind, that you believed was happening inside of there. You raised a brow down at him once he stopped at your feet. Qui babbled in Yautja as he peered at you, stubby mandibles twitching as he talked. Then, with a short arm, he reached out and grabbed at your leg.

Similar to a cat, his nails were deadly sharp. The muscles along your calf tensed but you didn’t jerk away as they sunk into the flesh. You bit at your lower lip, throating closing up to prevent any sounds. With his painful hold on you, Qui-oky stood up on unsteady legs.

Why out of everything else in the kitchen had he had to use you?! With a shake of your head, you bent over and scooped the wobbling child off of the ground. Qui squeaked at the sudden movement but chirped happily since he was face to face with you. You lightly tapped the tip of his inner mouth with a finger. “Hey, kiddo. Wanna help me cook something for your mama?” you teased him and held him to be resting on your hip. One of your arms had him propped up underneath his butt. A spot he was content to sit in.

He didn’t understand a word on what you were say and stared blankly. “Yeah, I know. I’m not yet there, Qui. I got a few more months before I’m willing to try out in public. Before then, I’m gonna stick with what I know best.” Before almost forgetting the meat on the firepit, you flipped it over and stirred a pot of brew. “Maybe in the process you’ll learn some English early. Don’t tell your mom though.”

“She wants me to learn more Yautja and I’m truly trying… I just don’t have the mouth for it. Ya know?” The poor child looked at you with questions rolling inside of his small head. You sighed with a shake of your head and refocused on the pots and pans in front of you. “You don’t. It’s okay. One day though. We’ll both further our learning about the other. For right now-“

The front door hissed as it opened. There, in the doorway, appeared Gawtin in all of her glory. Without missing a beat, you twisted your torso to look at her with a hand still holding a wooden spoon. “Oh, hey, love! Back so soon? I haven’t finished cooking yet,” you called out to her as she strode into the dwelling. Then, you turned back to the food in front of you.

From what your ears caught, she made her way over to you in the kitchen. Qui chirped at the sight of his mother and babbled at her. A hard, warm, thick body molded into your backside. A protective arm slid between you and the metal stove as you were pulled slightly back. Purring vibrated down your spine to each limb attached.

You smiled softly at the gesture. The spoon was carefully set down to the side. With your free hand, you patted at the limb around your waist. “Well, hello to you too.” Her purred thickened. Gawtin leaned down to snuggled her mandibles into the crook of your neck. Sweet and comforting.

Until you felt a familiar wet muscle slither out and lick at the skin there. You tensed up, eyes widening at the realization of what she was doing. The child on your arm felt heavier. “Gaw-Gawtin…” you spoke her name lowly, partly in warning of what she was starting. But she knew. She knew what she was doing. Let alone to you.

She let loose a deep snarl, the hold she had on you tightening and crushing you to her. “I am not necessarily hungry for food right now,” her voice low and grumbly. You were suddenly hit with an arousing need for her. This was about something you had discussed with her earlier in the week. You couldn’t believe she was doing that now. Right now. With Qui.

Though Gawtin couldn’t see you, a brow was raised silently at her. In your grasp, Qui-oky chirped and twisted his small body to face his mother. Said older Yautja returned the same noise and tugged him away from you. All the heat he easily produced was stolen away with him. He began to babble at her while using his arms to help him. You stayed though, unable to move with her there.

Gawtin kept her mandibles pressed into your soft, fragile flesh. They twitched, sharp ends dragging across your skin. “Run.” Then, the Yautja pulled away from you.

Just like the human you were, you stood frozen in your spot, unable to move. Gawtin released a thundering growl. Goosebumps ran down the lengths of your arms, towards your fingertips. You gasped before scuttling away from her. A glance was thrown back at her as you escaped through the front door.

The look of a predator was all you saw.

Sweltering heat bared down on your feeble body. Sweat rolled over your skin in thick rivers. Your shirt stuck to your body uncomfortably. Out of all the time you’ve resided on this planet, this had to be the hardest you’ve ever run before for this long. It was bad. To the point your lungs ached for a break. But this was different. You wanted to give Gawtin a small challenge in finding you.

It would be impossible to hide or run from her. It was inevitable she would find you in the end. All you could do was put as much distance between you and a predator breed for this exact thing. That made a cold trickle down your spine. In a good way. This was the best thing to happen to you in your life. You couldn’t want anything different or to change.

To add to the challenge, you took a note from things you’ve read and watched before. Add a little common sense in there, you used a creek to travel north, with the wind. All you could hope the direction of the wind wouldn’t change too drastically and give up your position. Who knows. This planet was beyond weird when it came to these things.

Despite being in a jungle designed to kill anything and everything edible, you didn’t feel in danger. Instead, in the back of your mind, you knew there was something watching you. Something that would always keep you safe. Even if that same thing was hunting you at this exact moment.

When your lungs refused to bare the unneeded stress, you slowed to a simple walk. The sweat that coated your skin was brushed with a breeze that helped cool yourself down. It almost felt like being splashed with creek water on a hot day. One of the best feelings out there.

This far out and without paying attention, it was completely up to Gawtin to return you to the safety of her dwelling. This wasn’t pathing you’ve taken before. To sum it up: you were lost.

With the trust that filled your very being, you knew this wasn’t a bad thing. You were safe and sound, even surrounded by creatures more than happy to swallow you whole.

As the sun was close to hiding behind the horizon the tall, thick jungle trees blocked out, you felt the need to stop. Not for water or even a bit from a nearby safe berry bush. No. Eyes. Familiar but not, watched you. Heavy and piercing. You cursed underneath your breath, gaze snapping all over the place. An attempt to find where she was. Where the predator was hunting you from the shadows of her home planet. This was her hunting grounds.

You swallowed the thick lump stuck in your throat, unable to find the creature hiding. Gawtin could be anywhere within the three hundred-sixty degrees around you. Anywhere. And by the time you find, it would be far too late. You bit at your bottom lip, thighs squeezing together.

The back of your hand swiped at the pooling sweat at your forehead. Then, you continued your pathing onward. Wherever these lands would take before someone else did.

“Gawtin?” you spoke up, voice quivering, not with fear. No, with anticipation of what’s to come.

The jungle around you was still, as if the trees and foliage themselves were holding your breath as well. Nothing dared to even tremble, let alone move a single inch. Your breath was caught in your throat as you stood as a statue.

Running or escape were no longer options. They’ve long been thrown out the moment you had past the threshold of her dwelling.

A small part of your brain told you speak, say something. Maybe distract her so you could have more time to think. “Gawtin? Come on, love. Let’s talk about this?” you tried to reason with the creature hunting you down. Off to your left, there was a short snort. One you knew far too well to think of anything else. Your head snapped in the origin’s direction. Yet, it was completely hopeless. Her scales kept her well-hidden.

Now, to your right, there was a deafening growl that caused goosebumps to expand across your skin. Your head whipped around so fast you believed you had received whiplash. That was the least of your worries currently. But, there was no sign of her. You cursed lowly underneath your breath.

Sounds of tsking sounded above the ground in front of you. You gasped and jumped back at the sudden different location. “Babe?” you questioned as if you didn’t already know. So stupid. If you were in a different situation, you would’ve smacked yourself in the face.

Those eyes never left you. They were glued to your form worse than the damn sap that these trees produce.

“Run.” You jumped once more at the voice now behind you. Without taking more second to fool around, your feet start to pound against the forest’s floor. Leaves and other foliage crunched underneath each step away from the creature hunting you.

Despite your lungs and legs burning at the second run of the afternoon, you push past and kept moving along. Trees loomed over you, as if crowding to see when she’ll capture you in those deadly claws of hers. Shit. This was more than getting your blood pumping. It had your whole body feeling alive with buzzing energy.

Heavy weight shoved into you yet mindful. An arm snagged around your waist as you went down with the sudden move. You choked on a scream, arms out to catch your fall. Your body was pushed into the ground, face down as the same weight bared down on you. Nothing could help you escape. That didn’t stop you squirming and wiggling worse than slimy worm.

One of your arms was able to reach out and claw uselessly at the ground. Nothing but dirt built underneath your nails, unable to gain anything of purchase.

Then, a massive paw grasped around your petite wrist and pinned it down as well. Everything around you went completely still. You shuddered, goosebumps rising once more. Thick, redden tipped tresses swung into view. They tickled the expanse of your back, making you gasp at the feeling before shivering again. “Fuck,” you bit out and stopped moving.

It was pointless now. The predator has caught her prey and wasn’t going to let it go now.

Warm, humid breath fanned over your exposed neck. Keratin on keratin clicked against each right behind your ear. A growl rumbled around your fragile skin. Claws bit into you, almost drawing trickles of blood. “Gawtin,” you whined and tried to shift mindlessly underneath her.

Her free hand found its way to your throat and tightened its hold. You gulped, throat bobbing. “Keep saying my name. It is not going to be of help.” Your only reaction was to groan out her name once more. There was nothing you could do to escape. She rumbled above you, adding a small fraction of her weight onto you again. You moaned, thighs clenching together. Just a reminder of how powerful she is with just her weight.

Gawtin then shifted her body to sit back on her haunches. With the grip around your neck, the predator easily pulled you to your feet. Despite the fact she had lost height, Gawtin was still taller than you. Not as towering but enough to make a cold sweat roll down your spine. She pulled you towards her, as close as possible.

With her long, pink tongue, she licked up the side of your face and bellowed lowly. Her purple eyes seemed to sharpen, narrowing down on your form before expanding. The predator then picked you up using the hand around your throat. You squirmed, clawing at her fingers at hint of fears entered your veins. She sat down on ground and brought you with her.

You were maneuvered to sit in her lap, back to her chest. Your legs were thrown on either side of her own, forcing you to spread wide to accommodate her size. The only thing protecting you from Gawtin’s thick fingers from plunging into you was the shorts you wore.

Yet, with the predator behind you, that or anything wouldn’t stop her. Her massive paw grasped the fabric and pulled hard. The cloth was simply torn from your body and thrown off to the side. You gasped and wiggled in her lap. Which had her tightening her hand around your throat. Instinctively, you stilled, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

A part of you wanted her to run a digit between your folds, to feel how wet you were. The other side of you was completely embarrassed on how much slick has pooled from you already. How wet you were from being hunted by your lover. You keened and jutted your hips up for some kind of attention.

Pain spring from in the inside of your thigh. A husky growl sounded from the beast behind you. Immediately, you cried out, head flung back to rest on her chest – too short to touch her shoulder. Shit. It hurt. It hurt so good. You shivered, unable to stop yourself, and began to lightly pant. “Gawtin, please. I need you so much, love,” you begged, hands coming to rest on her thighs. The thick muscles underneath the skin rippled at the touch.

“So sweet with your begging. But it is not going to get you anywhere, love,” she mocks you, voice low and barely audible with how grumbly it was. You keened with a pitiful huff, yet you kept still. Moving has only rewarded you with a stinging slap. A lesson well learned.

Gawtin took note of this and purred for you with content. The hand on your thighs slid up your feeble flesh to cup your soaking cunt. This was what you’ve been begging for. Any sort of touch to have you coming in her lap. But this Yautja was smart. The touch was light, fingers nowhere near entering you. Yet, Gawtin’s claws barely biting into your skin, only causing dents. Her palm had a gentle feeling. It wasn’t enough. Not even close.

But, you couldn’t hold it in. You squirmed in her lap again, jerking your hips to rub against her hand. It offered a little relief. Before she moved her palm completely away to grasp at a spread thigh of yours. Those nails of hers that weren’t trimmed bit harshly into the flesh, leaving marks that would later be cared for.

You hissed at the pain. Nothing of words escaped your lips though. This was part of the show. “Be good little ooman for me, love.” And you wanted to. You really, desperately wanted to. But, it’s her. She makes you want to act out, want to be a rebel, a brat.

With a drop of courage, you stilled. “No,” you stated then used a hand to dip between your legs. Before you had even a chance to touch yourself, a massive paw snatched you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snarled and moved so her face next to your ear. All her noises could be heard, loud in clear. The hand in her grasp was forced behind your back, between the two of you. Her hold on your neck tightened and stayed that way. Less blood was making its way to your mind, forcing you to feel dizzy and lightheaded. That heightened everything going on with your body now.

“Such a naughty ooman. So dirty.” Diligent finger crept up the inside of your thigh, but you didn’t move. “Letting a Yautja purposefully hunt you down, to use you at their whim.” Now, the edges of your vision were starting to darken, body beginning to go lax. Gawtin read this swiftly and loosened her hold. More blood was allowed to go through your arteries to reach your brain.

A clawed digit ran through soak folds and skimmed over an electricized nub. Without meaning to, you gasped and arched your back away from her chest. Your hands didn’t know what to do. They hovered at your sides, shaking. Not a clear thought between your eyes even as the feeling ebbed away, leaving you desperate for more.

That hand moved past your sight and to the mouth of Gawtin. All you could hear was the slippery, long tongue of hers lick up the juices she scooped up to taste. You shivered. Then, her fingers were back to the apex of your thighs.

One semi-intelligent thought came to mind for yourself. You forced your body to stay, to be good for her as Gawtin did the same thing again. You whimper harshly, eyes squeezed shut as you bit at your lip. Curses were swirling inside of your foggy mind. All you could think of doing was rutting into her hand like a dog in heat, wanting nothing else but her. Just her.

“Learning, are we?” Gawtin teased, voice causing vibrations to up your ear drum. You whined but kept still, somehow, someway. “Yeah, you are.”

One digit pushed past your folds, slowly slipping its way in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes rolled back, head thrown back to rest on Gawtin’s shoulders. Your walls locked down on her thick finger. That didn’t compared to when she curled it. It dragged and pressed against your g-spot as she scooped your essence out of you again. All to taste you again.

“Gawtin, please… I-mmm, I need… you, badly,” you whimpered. The muscles that lined your thighs were tensed but you didn’t move besides that. You bite at your bottom lip harshly to stop any noises.

In your ear, Gawtin grumbled a laugh that shook you to your core. “What was that? Hm? I couldn’t hear you,” she taunted you. Her hand came back down to your cunt and shove her finger back in. The teasing, it was wearing you down to the bone. Your mind becoming mush under her administrations. Gawtin’s hand squeezed again at your neck. Instantly, you were a puddle in her lap. “Good, so good for me.”

Dazed, you nodded your head. Her upper hold stroked the length of your neck before returning the firm grasp again. Gawtin chittered something in her language, not that you caught it, brain turning to goo.

This time, two fingers plunged into the depths of your core. You cried out into the jungle around, like wounded prey. Gawtin squeezed harder, as if threatening, showing you how dangerous she is. One snap of her wrist, and she could have you dead. Your walls flutter around her two digits inside of you.

Now, Gawtin began a pace that slow, methodical strokes that had butterflies roaring in your stomach. They raced up each vein in your body to the tips of your fingers. This is what you wanted, the bare minimal and it stroked that fire deep in the pit of your belly. It made you desperate, blabbering for more. Anything Gawtin, your Yautja was willing to offer.

Talons that have killed hundreds, created divits on the back of your neck. Her hand easily smothered your throat without any trouble. Your core clench, releasing more of your essence onto deadly, skilled fingers. They played with you like a musician born to perform. Your knees threatened to pull up to your chest, feeling hair of embarrassment.

Something in the back of your head whisper dark thoughts. Any of her species could possibly hear you right now, hear how dirty you were being for Gawtin.

Next thing you knew, there was a stinging smack to the inside of your thighs. You yelped, muscles tensed before the hold on your throat squeezed as a reminder. A reminder to stay still and be good. You did your best, body starting trembling worse now. Yet, you couldn’t pinpoint the reason on why.

The hand below returned by cupping your sex then Gawtin grinded the heel of her palm straight into the hoof of your sex. The whine that sounded afterwards was incredibly shameful. But, she didn’t let you have single moment to drown in any thoughts.

Fangs that have the power to simply tear out your throat touched the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. The sharpened ends skirted up then down before softly latching onto your shoulder. This is where you shuttered harshly.

All the sensations she sent through your body simultaneously had you dizzy and disoriented. Gawtin knew. She always knew. Ever since it was made official you were hers, she’s learned your body from the insid-oh! A thick, callused finger prodded at your empty core. From the inside out.

The tip of her claw was dulled yet careful on pushing to the first knuckle. “My little prey, forced to take what I give. No room for arguing or escaping. You are mine, little artist. All mine to consume and taste and hear all those wonderful noises you make,” she whispered after letting your shoulder go to speak. Her long, forked tongue danced up the shell of your ear.

Gawtin pushed further into your body and refreshing her mind of your cunt. The way it fluttered like Ezail – winged creature – around her finger was delicious. Your juices leaked out like a river onto the soil of her home planet, in the jungle, taking you like prey. Gawtin relished in the blazing heat that sucked her digit further in until her knuckles prevent her from going any deeper.

It was pulled completely from you. Even with your head slightly tilted back to make room for the size of her hand, you watched at her hand came up. Her middle finger soak, glistening with slick. The Yautja leaned forward, just far enough so you could see out of the corner of your eye. Like the way she knew you would be. Then, with that ridiculously long tongue, it started from the base and licked up to the very tip of her claws. You felt how that affected you then felt the way she shuttered.

“I can never get enough of you. You taste so… unique, new, and down right addicting. I will never get tired of your alien taste. I will take you in all ways possible. You will no be able to think after I’m done with you.” As the predator spoke, Gawtin voice hardened, thickened with a promise of what’s to come. This was a promise she’ll keep and won’t let you forget for a single second.

Your throat vibrated with a mixture of a whine and groan that stemmed from somewhere deep. “Gawtin.” It was a beg, though you wished to as demanding as she could be.

A hiss sounded from Gawtin’s vocal cords. Once more, she squeezed at your neck and limited the blood from reaching your brain. It heightened the feeling when Gawtin touched your cunt again. That same middle finger skimmed through your folds and gather what leaked out. Instead of bringing it to her mouth, she pressed it against yours.

Without hesitance and with obedience, you parted your lips, awaiting. Gawtin entered and let her digit rest mindfully on your tongue. Soft, plush, moist lips sealed around it and sucked it further in. Tangy, slightly bitter, yet it had an powerful sweet taste. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Holy shit.

This time, you didn’t mean to but you squirmed impatiently in her lap. Truly, you were learning but it was hard, a difficult task of staying still as she teased you like this. Apologetic words stumbled out of your lips without trouble. You didn’t know if they were understandable but you tried.

“Shh, shh. It is alright, little one.” Rough hands petted at your sides, one rubbing something wet onto your skin. “Just tell me what you want. I will grant it.”

One of your shaky hands reached for her wrist, she met you half way. Despite being a terrifying hunter that’s trained for hundred of years, Gawtin let you easily guide her hand back to your core. Her hand slipped from underneath yours to rest on top of it. Then, she pushed yours to cup your own sex.

Soaked and swollen. “Feel that?” A gentle tense of her arm forced you to full embrace what’s she’s done to you. You couldn’t help the hoarse cry and the buck of you hips. With her there, holding your hand firmly, you unintentionally grinded against your palm. Curses words drooled from your slickened lips. “Good girl.”

This was torture. Completely so. There was no way around it.

Gawtin let you pulled your limb away, though it just fell limply at your side. You gritted your teeth then hissed through them, a light pant starting. “I need you. I need you. Gawtin!” you shouted at the end, voice echoing throughout the jungle that surrounded the two of you.

Immediately, her palm was cupping your cunt once more. The two claws that weren’t dulled parted your folds for the ones that were. They were soft, gently on pushing into you, ensuring there was no discomfort once-oh-ever.

This alien was big, massive compared to your meek form next to an apex predator. A finger itself was thick, but now with two filling you… they stretched you walls, carefully till her knuckles kissed your folds again.

All of the tense muscles that were coiled tight unfurled. You sunk into the body that made up Gawtin, skin molding to hers.

If only you thought was it. Thick digits curled slightly and pressed up as they retracted. You harshly gasped, back arching away from Gawtin. Your nails clawed down her muscular thighs, leaving nothing in their wake. Her name was somewhere falling from your lips in the meantime. Gawtin plunged back into your body, the obscene noise it created would’ve had you blushing hard. If only you were in the right mind.

“Mmm, I love it when you say my name like that,” she purred straight into your ear. Then, that glorious tongue of hers tasted the flesh along your neck.

Naked as the day you were born, everything was exposed. Gawtin was more than happy to take advantage of that. The hand not filling you currently captured a beaded nipple between two finger. Instantly, that sent a fresh wave of buzzing energy to your ignored clit. Though, the way she stroked expertly at your g-spot had you feeling close to the edge. A razor sharp edge. One that will completely swallow you whole and leave you nothing to lay on.

Both arms were digging into the flesh that made up her upper thighs and hips. Those were you lifeline, what you needed to survive. It was all you could do in the moment to keep from going insane.

All because of Gawtin. All because of your Yautja, your mate.

“Those sounds… you only make them for me. All for me.  For no one else, right?” You didn’t have the thought process to speak. All you could do was dumbly nod your head. You heard the way she purred with delight and twisted your nipple. You cried out with your chest rapidly moving up and down. God, you were desperate for to do more. To stop tormenting you with these subtle light touches.

In your ear, she hissed at all the little sounds. All of them were swallowed up by her ears, letting no one else have them besides herself.

There was nothing computing in your brain, not a thought worth wild. You chewed on your lip to try and contain any noises possible.

Her heel laid on top of your clit. That former attempt was forgotten and abandoned swiftly without notice. As Gawtin’s fingers fucked into your body, she was talented enough to softly grind her palm against you. You gasped out in shock, toes curling in reaction.

One of your hands reached behind and mindlessly grasped at a thick, dark dread. It filled your hand as you tugged on it, thumb rubbing over the rubbery texture.

By God. A dark, thundering snarl cascaded from Gawtin’s throat. Beautiful in its own dangerous way. Not that you had anything to worry about. The heel completely flattened against your clit and sent an overwhelming wave of pleasure throughout your veins. Her thick fingers plunged deep into your body to start a vigorous pace.

That sent you off. Your back arched off of her lower torso. All the muscles in your legs coil, toes curling. Your hands white knuckled the skin that made up her hips. A heavy gush of fresh essence dripped out of like fine wine. Gawtin didn’t care.

All that was on her mind was the way you looked, striking and beautiful. You clung to her as you reached the peak, feeble nail desperate to create marks. Your walls clamped down at first, as if it suck her fingers somehow deeper into you needy body. Then, they start flutter. Hard. Gawtin didn’t relent and focused solely on that bundle of nerves hidden away in your core.

That kept your frame feeling suspended in space, floating in the ecstasy she drove you to. Every muscle taunt, as if ready to snap.

Nothing could truly escape your vocal cords. Besides the croak you first made before it became overwhelming, throat closing up. Gawtin bathed in the fact she left you speechless, a furled and soaked mess in her lap. And the smell. Pauk, you smelled like the sweetest fruit imaginable. And once you relaxed, she will force you onto your shoulders and eat you out. She will force you to give her that sweet nectar you produced for her.

Gawtin kept her fingers going. One hand tweak at your nipple. Other, filling your cunt like that way it should be as you came around them. There was no stopping this well oiled machine from giving you pleasure.

That’s when the Yautja released something that had a smirk growing on her mandibles. As your body slow drift back to rest against her but you squirmed from the overstimulation growing from the pits of your stomach. A desperate cry sound from your throat, crackling. You weakly tried to pull away either limb from a part of yourself to let up on the onslaught…

But Gawtin didn’t budge an inch. Your legs begin to shake, trembling. With what little power you hold, you fought against her. This alien wasn’t moving a single centimeter. And that’s when you felt it. It had to be impossible. This hasn’t happened before, not that you can think of. You whimper with a pathetic whine and shook.

You came again. Powerful. Overwhelming. Mind numbing. This time, your vocal cords worked. “Gawtin!” White noise filled your ears. You couldn’t make sense of what was happening; what was up from down, left from right. All you knew, could remember was Gawtin’s name. You sung it like with a broken cry that tore at your throat.

Hours. It had to be hours that passed by before you floated back into your body. To feel a hardened, hot body molded to your back. Sweat clung to your skin like a sheet. Even though, it should’ve felt incredibly uncomfortable, you could care less about the feeling. What you focused on was the rubbing of hands, petting at your sides.

Your lungs were panting for air, trying to fill themselves up as much as possible. You lolled your head back against a meaty shoulder with a throat groan. The entity you rest against vibrated with a laugh.

Heat swaddled your throat. A thumb stroked along your pulse point, soft. You couldn’t help but moan again. “There is my little artist,” her voice smooth like butter on a hot plate. It soothed you, made you become pliable. Well, more than last time. “You did so good go for me. So well.” The praise was immediately sent to your blazing clit. You wiggled in her lap again, mindlessly. Fuck, that felt good.

The grasp on your throat pinched your jaw then turned your head towards Gawtin. A groan lazy escaped from you. “How do you feel?” She had her pinkie continuously running over your pulse point.

A aloof smile graced your lips. “More,” you whined. Immediately, Gawtin’s eyes narrowed straight onto yours. Her body hardened against yours, hand tightening around your neck. Her face bent down for a moment to bury into the crook of your neck.

“You are playing a dangerous game.” A forked tongue licked up the side of your neck before Gawtin had to sit up, the strain too much for her. You gave her a lopsided grin.

And her fingers returned to your oversensitive clit. “And I will join in this game.”

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #gawtin #gawtin loves her human #love gawtin #primal play #smut #female yautja #yautja smut

[eetherealgoddess]

Someone requested a bonten/purge au in one of my comment sections forever ago. Hope you enjoy!♡︎♡︎♡︎

ꨄWork Nightꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Purge Au

❦You work during the purge❦

Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Work Night

Recently, you learned about the extra money you could make by working on Purge night. Usually, you wouldn’t stay out during the ‘holiday’ but you decided to try it. Now, why wouldn’t you just go out and steal from a bank or something? Because, that’s a death sentence. Other people are out doing the exact same thing. At least you’ll still be safe inside. The job is to clean and mandate the shop, protecting the merchandise while it stays closed. Fortunately, the store you work in has never been broken into, or stolen from, nobody really caring for flowers on a night as chaotic as this, which makes your job easy.

Unlike other stores surrounding you, this one is a small business, and the price to protect it was too good to pass. You’re also not alone, currently sweeping the floor amongst the other two coworkers who are taking care of the other chores on the checklist. Hearing tapping on the window, the three of you look up, your body jolting as you eye the masked strangers

“Do you know them?” One of your coworkers questions. You respond with a shake of your head as your grip on the wooden stick tightens while your body tenses. You all stood quietly, examining the tall figures. Blood stains their suits as well as the weapons that are hanging to their sides. One of them moves closer to the window before he taps the metal bat against the glass and tilts his head, the moonlight exposing the red liquid splattered on the white crying mask.

“The doors are locked right?” The other coworker questions.

“Yeah.” You respond breathlessly. Your heart pounds against your chest as a sense of dread forms when they all move closer. You gasp as the man pulls his arms back and slams the bat against the glass. Shards shatter everywhere before they step inside. You hear your coworkers shriek as you all scramble to run towards the back door.

“Fuck!” You hiss just as you move out of the way right before the person with the baton could crack your skull. You make eye contact through the mask, an eerie smile plastered on the white face. You fall in the process, rolling your body out of the way before the weapon could meet your stomach, smacking a piece of glass when making contact with the floor.

“Pesky little thing.” He all but purrs as you get back on your feet. Your head turns to the person with pink hair holding a katana closing in on one of your coworkers who backed into a corner.

“Please! Don’t kill me!” Her legs shake as she holds her hands up, her eyes wide as tears fall down her face. The mask holds a frown that resembles the person’s grip on the weapon before they pull back and penetrate her chest. You gasp right before dodging the machete that almost slices through your neck, turning your attention to the purple mullet who has on a mask that displays an expression of laughter.

You change your direction, running towards the large hole in which they entered, passing the man using the bat to beat your male coworker’s face into unrecognition. You hop through the hole and run aimlessly, your only thought to get somewhere safe and hide from not only your current tormentors, but anyone else who’s lingering around to be a menace on this celebratory night.

“Please, please, please.” You beg to whatever deity can hear you above, your legs burning as you feel tightness in your stomach from running faster than you’ve ever had to before.

You force yourself to sprint through the pain as you hear footsteps behind, not bothering to turn around. Your adrenaline pumps as you continue down the sidewalk. You begin to struggle to breathe the longer you push yourself, attempting to take in deep breaths and releasing as a way to fight through the pain. You knew you couldn’t stop, especially with the footsteps closing in behind you.

You make a side glance to an alleyway and turn into it, hoping to find a way through by a shortcut. Before you can continue, a hand grabs your bicep and snatches you back.

“Where do ya think yer goin?” The random middle aged man pulls you toward him with a gun against your head. He wrapped an arm around your neck and leans closer to your ear.

“Yer gonna do what I say.” He growls in your ear as his grip tightens while you’re frozen.

“My, my. You’re in quite the predicament, huh?” The man with the machete states, amusement dripping from his tone. The guy holding you turns his attention to the three masked men with confusion on his face.

“Who the hell are you? Go away! This is my kill!” He exclaims with anger.

“Your kill? We found her first.” The guy with the bat argues with a chuckle.

Your eyes widen when you notice that the guy with the katana is missing. Fear engulfing your mind you pull your head forward before slamming it back against the man’s nose causing him to release his grip and cover his wound. Blood drips over his mouth as you move just in time for the weapon to slice through his body, the blade piercing through his stomach now stained with fresh blood. The sound of his gun hitting the ground echoed through the alleyway.

Holy fuck! I just almost got kabobed!

You swiftly snatch the gun from the ground and clumsily aim it at all four men whose attention has turned to you.

“Back the hell up!” You exclaim, scared out of your mind as your hand shakes while holding the gun. Your reaction causes smirks and laughs from the masked figures in front of you.

“Go ahead. Shoot.” Your eyes widened at the male with the katana as your grip tightened on the gun.

Honestly the only time you’ve ever seen a gun was on tv so this is your first time holding the weapon. You had no idea how to use it besides pulling the trigger, but for some reason you hesitate. You breathe heavily as you back up slowly.

“J-just stay away from me! Let me go a-and I won’t have to.”

You stupid bitch, just shoot them! What’s wrong with you?

You look up at the sky, noticing how the night gradually disappears as dawn forms.

Thank God! If I can just hold out till this is over, I’ll be free!

“If you don’t wanna get shot then go away! Now!” You demand, voice trembling as you figure out how to cock the gun.

“Oh? You’re giving us ultimatums now?” The tallest one questions with mirth.

“It’s hilarious that you think you have a say in anything just because you’re holding a gun.” The purple mullet states, crossing his arms with the machete still in his hand.

The sound of their phones going off causes them to grab the devices from their pockets and eye the notification.

“Seems to be your lucky day.”

“Boss needs us guys, let's go.”

“See ya next time!”

They all walk away, leaving you holding the gun as you watch them walk off. You release a large breath as your hand is placed on your chest to hopefully ease the pounding of your heart. Gun still in hand you rush off to your home.

“I-I survived!” You laugh out when you make it inside, locking the door behind you.

“I need to smoke some tree on god.” You moan out before turning on the news.

You listen to the news anchor announcing the end of the purge. You set the gun on the table and walk to your bedroom. After you gather your pajamas you take a quick shower, wiping residue grime and blood, thinking back on your dead coworkers with a shiver.

A few months since the traumatic event passes and your life has only gotten weirder since then. First and foremost, you decided that you wanted to get out more considering you have been a loner for most of your life and don’t really have any major accomplishments since graduating from highschool. Considering the purge was a more recent holiday, you knew that your death could approach even sooner than before.

Anytime you had downloaded dating apps, you never took it seriously enough to make friends or partners so you went out of your comfort zone and met quite a few people this time. Unfortunately, it seems as though after about a week or so they would ghost you for no particular reason that was stated. No matter how much you thought you had bonded with someone, they disappeared as if they never existed in the first place.

You didn’t take it personally at first but after a few times you wondered if there was something wrong with you. It wasn’t until there was someone you talked to for longer than the deadline in which the others had disappeared. You couldn’t believe you caught the attention of someone so attractive but you accepted the circumstances regardless.

More time passes as you two get to know each other and bond quickly, becoming closer than you ever had with someone in a long time. So close that you two decide to spend the purge together at your apartment. He offered his place but you wanted to stay in the vicinity of your own home just in case.

You had just stepped out of the shower while he was in the living room. After drying yourself and lotioning up you put on a different outfit. Just as you step out of the bathroom, you notice a presence with a familiar suit sitting on your bed with his leg crossed. Icy blue orbs pierce your own as your eyes widen.

“R-Ran!” You yell in fear as you run out of the room. “Someone broke in!” You run to the kitchen to grab the gun, only to be pulled back by your arm. You eye the unknown man who looks almost identical to the male you had been seeing though you could recognize that purple mullet from anywhere.

“God, why’d you have to drag this so long?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He wanted her all to himself.” A male with golden eyes says from the couch.

“Ah, yeah. You’ve caught me.” The man with mid length blonde and black hair chuckles, walking towards you.

“He even grew his hair out. Ridiculous.” The pink haired man spits as he walks into the room.

“W-What the fuck is going on?” You yell, eyeing Ran with confusion and anger.

“You know, we could’ve just snatched her that night. Why’d we have to wait a whole year?”

“Cuz it’s fun, Kazu. Didn’t you enjoy murdering all of those people she talked to.”

“Whatever. Let’s just hurry up so we can explain it to Mikey so he doesn’t kill her.”

“What the hell are all of you talking ab-!” Before you could finish you were interrupted by an impact on your head, succumbing to the darkness.

You groan as you wake up with a throbbing headache, aiming to rub your head only for your arms to not move. When your vision is back you notice that your arms are tied behind the chair you’re forced to sit on.

“What is it about you that caught those idiots' attention?” You look ahead to see a man with platinum hair boring into you with dark orbs. Your breath hitches as you become wary of your surroundings. His aura doesn’t help.

“I-I don’t know what’s going on! Please, let me go!”

“Did I say you could speak?” You immediately shut your mouth as you eye him with discomfort.

“You’ve distracted my men. Why?”

You didn’t know whether to answer or not though it’s not like you have a response anyway. Considering the memories that recollected you knew that Ran had been one of the masked strangers from that night. You had no idea why he did what he did or how you caught their attention to the point where you’re not dead yet. You don’t want to find out, all you want is to go home.

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. You have no idea what he means by that. As if cued, the said group of males walk in, Ran with his original short haired purple style that you remembered from a year ago.

“You found her, you deal with her.” The short man states with a stoic expression before he stands from his seat and walks out of the room.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x you #kazutora x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #sanzu x you #ran haitani #ran x reader #ran x you #rin haitani #rin x reader #rin x you #bonten #bonten x reader #yandere bonten #bonten au #purge #tw purge #purge au #bonten trio #bonten timeline #yandere males #yandere x you

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Jason Holding Your Hand While You Struggle To Walk Beside Him

Jason Voorhees X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, abuse, bodily injuries

Word Count: 940

(A/N:) Happy Friday the 13th sick things! I'm here to bring your boy Jason as a favor to my friend! She loves the franchise and this masked slasher! Guess he's her equivalent to my Michael Myers. I had to write something for her and I really wanted to post it today because duh! So hopefully this will make the other Jason Voorhees fangirls happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Your parents had forced you into being a camp counselor at the newly reopened Camp Crystal Lake. Despite your protests at having to spend summer with cruel students you went to school with, you were shipped off and left to fend for yourself. It didn't take long until the horrible things that they did to you during the school year began to happen at the camp. It didn't matter how many times you told the overseers of the camp, your dilemmas fell on deaf ears. Two days into your camp stay and you escaped to your cabin and refused to come out. You locked the door, letting the pleas of the staff go ignored. Thankfully your mother had packed you snacks, so you had no reason to leave.

That second night you had been holed up everything changed. You had fallen asleep, the sounds of night bugs filling the silence until a scream pierced the air. You jolted awake, a shiver going down your spine. Several moments passed as you tried to steady your breathing, your mind chalking it up to the others trying to get you to come out of your cabin. Laying back down you tried to go back again, when another scream froze your blood. You could hear thundering footsteps as the door to your cabin began to shake. One of the counselors beat upon the door, pleading for you to let them in.

"Haven't you tortured me enough," you shouted pulling your blankets over your head. "Go prank someone else!"

Another scream as a machete pierced through the wood of your cabin door and blood splattered across the frosted glass. You choked back a scream, trying to keep as quiet as possible, praying that whoever on the other side would go away. No such luck as the door shattered letting in the attacker. You shook violently at the giant of a man standing before you. Your eye had been blackened from your fellow counselors throwing rocks at you and the palms of your hands had scabbed over where they had tripped you on the gravel.

"Please," you whimpered. "Don't hurt me."

Though he didn't treat you the same as the now dead girl on the ground in front of your cabin, he didn't just leave you alone. You found yourself walking beside the tall killer through the camp that now was stained with the blood of his victims. Your legs felt like jello as you tried to think of some way to get away. He put a hand at the small of your back, trying to be careful of your bruises. No one had treated you so gently but you really didn't want to go into the woods. He was adamant as he pushed you further. How he could see you didn't know as the moon was hidden by the dense foliage of the trees and small bushes. Sticks cracked under your bare feet and despite his large size he stalked through the darkness in absolute silence. You tripped over roots, sticks snagging on your hair, and thorns scratching up your already battered face. He patiently waited for you to catch up, never letting you fall too far behind. The further in the woods you got, the more exhausted you became until every step you took you were tripping. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face and the terror was beginning to swallow you.

The adrenaline you had before was keeping you going, but now that wore out and you were exhausted. You watched the large man disappear in a thick brush. Letting out a relieved breath you hoped that your luck was finally beginning to change. That didn't last long as he returned not seconds later. Seeing you on the ground he slipped the rusted bloodstained machete under his belt and holding out a scarred and bloody hand. You reclined away from his hand. He grunted wiping his hand on his stained pants before reaching out again. He wasn't going to leave so you gave in, placing your much smaller hand in his large palm. He pulled you upwards, getting you back steady on your feet before starting forward again. A few steps in and you noticed that he hadn't released your hand. It was much easier to walk and keep up with him as long as he held your hand tightly. The coolness of his skin against your warmth was a pleasant contrast it had you shivering.

You lost track of the time and how long you had been walking before exhaustion once again nipped at your heels. Despite him leading you, you were beginning to falter once again.

"I'm tired," you mumbled.

Wordlessly and in one motion you were lifted and held in this stranger's arms. He carried you tenderly making sure no branches snagged in your hair or struck your face. He seemed tireless as he pressed forward. Though he hadn't said a word or made any sort of motions to harm you, it had been the nicest you'd ever been treated. The horrors at the camp, not just from his killing spree, seemed to melt away as exhaustion overtook your body. You fell asleep in his arms as he kept walking forward with a purpose. Thoughts of what everyone would think with you missing was at the back of your mind until you were swallowed by sleep. You couldn't bring yourself to worry as you finally felt safe at last, you melted into his embrace and let yourself be carried away. The unknown before you vast and uncharted, but maybe it would be better. Time would only tell.

#Jason Voorhees X Reader #Jason Voorhees / Reader #Jason Voorhees #Friday The 13th #Jason Voorhees Imagine #Friday The 13th Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

[heartthrobin]

lovers, to bed: tis almost fairy time (4)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.0k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), angst, subby sam winchester (?), some smoking, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: i'm so sorry that this took so long, uni has put me in a really tough mental space at the moment and being creative has been so difficult. but i hope it was worth the wait! love you all endlessly

summary: yes, Sam Winchester was an idiot: but he would be damned if he was going to let his little fairy get away.

part one part two part three

The trunk clicked open, swinging up against the back window of the Impala.

Dean rummaged between the shotguns and the silver blades and the jugs of gasoline. His hand emerged with a wide set machete, holding it up to Sam.

"I've been dying to use this bad boy since Idaho." He grinned at his reflection in the steel blade.

Sam rolled his eyes, hair fluttering over his forehead where the evening wind was tugging on it. The Impala was parked up against the grass at the edge of the forest, the sun disappearing over the treetops in a way that sunk the town in a purple glow.

He reached in to grab a shotgun, a silver blade too: slipping it into his jacket pocket. "Right. Let's just get this over with."

His brother grinned, "So you can go see your little princess, hm?"

Sam didn't dignify him with a response. Mostly because he was right.

The weight of the truth draped over his shoulders like a truck. Stifling and making it hard to breath, let alone think.

Dean laughed at his lack of response, bumping his shoulder to his:

"Sammy's getting laid tonight." He sing-songed.

"Yeah, right. That's a great idea." He huffed, "Then she can see all my scars and realise I've been lying to her. Sounds fun."

Nudging the trunk closed, Dean groaned. "She's gonna find out either way."

"Not unless I don't tell her."

At that Dean paused. His eyes ran over Sam's figure where he was loading the shotgun.

"So when were done, we're just gonna leave town?"

Sam slammed the trunk shut with maybe a little too much force. "Can we drop it?"

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever. It's your problem, but I think she should know."

But Sam was already pacing towards the line of trees, huffing and trying to suffocate the guilt building in his chest.

The forest wasn't making it any easier. Dean was trailing behind him, every footstep crackling over the dry leaves and soft grass reminding him of your laugh. The dark bark of the black of your eyes, those eyes so wide and wet--

"Hey," Dean's voice cut through his thoughts. He motioned over between the trees. "Look."

There was the tree again. Glowing just like it had been the last time they'd ventured into the belly of the woods.

A crunch echoed around the space. Sam's head whipped over his shoulder, Dean reaching with a quickness that only came from experience for the gun in his holster:

"What was that?"

-

There was a teenager behind the counter when you plonked down a packet of sour worms and a tray of eggs in front of her.

She was usually the one who helped you when you'd stop in after work some days. She's cute in a sprightly way: piercings sticking out from every piece of skin she could get her hands on and she was one of the only people left in town who didn't scowl at you when you came in.

But she was looking at you funny just then, her hands still where they'd usually just reach to start scanning your things with a bored look on her young features.

"You've ... uh, got a ..." she'd motioned up to her own face, brushing a finger over her cheek.

Your hand came to pet your own face, drawing back with a palmful of blood. Shoulders sagging, you sigh. "Oh."

She leaned down under the counter, emerging with a handful of napkins and offering them to you. You smiled at her, "Thank you. It's, uhm, it's not mine."

The girl nodded like she already figured. She started to scan your eggs while you wiped down your cheek, napkins dissolving into a crimson lump. You wondered, for the millionth time, what your soulmate had gotten themselves into today.

There was a glass case enclosing some rotating hot dogs that you used to check your reflection: to probe gently at the thin cut you suspected was the work of a sharp blade, and when she handed you your bag, your face was mostly clean over where it was flush with embarrassment. Poor girl was already working late on a week night and you'd waltzed in looking like a scene from a horror movie.

You thanked her and she offered one last uninterested nod.

It was dark out already and you didn't feel as safe walking home as you once had but there was little option, and the corner store was less than a couple blocks from home.

The bag shuffled and your neck-full of crystals clinked as you walked. You hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all afternoon, some playful tune you'd heard on the radio in the shop.

In the distance there was a crowd. The road overthrown with a flickering blue and red light from cop cars parked just further down and voices overlapped in loud chatter.

You frowned. "What ..."

As you neared your eyes find uniformed officers pushing back other curious onlookers. There was a news van parked there too: a man dressed in a smart suit speaking into a microphone at his chest and he's grinning-- "Yes, Arthur, I am here in Fernglade Washington with some amazing news for our viewers. Tonight, the town can rest a little easier--"

There was a loud sob that carries over heads and a woman was on her knees, jeans pressing into the concrete where she was clutching a child. She's shaking violently ... and she wasn't alone.

Behind her was another set of parents with a child ... and another, and another.

Your heart floated into your throat. There brewed a bubbling feeling in your chest, it's ... it's the children. The missing children.

You recognised Rachel and Georgia ... and Manny. Sure, they were a little dirty: with pale soil-ridden faces and torn Barbie t-shirts.

One, two, three -- you counted them with your eyes -- seven. They were all there.

The police had set up a barricade and you didn't even realise you'd dropped and crushed your eggs when you pressed against it. There's eyes on you, guilty eyes, and you could tell nearby officers were pretending not to look at you out the corner of their eyes.

But you couldn't be bothered with them, with the whispering crowd either, because you'd made out the outline of the Winchester brothers' backs talking down at a short police woman who was avidly writing against a tiny notebook.

You were grinning so hard it was hurting your cheeks and your eyes welled with the joy of the scene. They were all there. They were all okay, alive!

"Sam!' you leaned over the wooden barricade. It had to have been them, there was nobody else who believed you. Believed that the kids weren't locked up in the depths of a dungeon you didn't own.

A laugh was gurgling up from the depths of your throat and you felt where a tear slipped over the healing cut on your cheek. "Sam!"

Sam's head perked up, pausing mid-sentence when he turned those wide shoulders to the crowd, to you. His face lit up with shadows under the spectacle of coloured lights when his eyes found yours.

Your heart sunk from where it was sitting in your throat, slipping all the way to the deepest pit in your stomach.

Even under the harsh light and the cover of night it was impossible to miss the drying blood painting his face. Running down from a cut over his cheek. Your hand came to find your own jaw, eyes never leaving his, when you pressed up into the matching scar. It didn't hurt and even if it had, you wouldn't have felt it just then.

Sam's face was twisting with realisation. "Y/n--"

You tripped back over the edges of your skirt, knocking into the onlookers behind you-- "hey, watch it!"

Concrete reached up, scraping at your heels wedged into dainty sandals, but the hammering of your heart kept them moving. You broke out the crowd, oxygen leaning further and further out your grasp when you broke into a run.

"Y/n, wait!"

But you didn't stop.

Sam watched your silhouette shrink down the road, streetlights illuminating your escape. He gulped for breath, guilt choking him out: clogging his airways with thick sludgy shame.

"Sammy," a hand closed over his arm. "Come on--"

"Agent, we need to finish getting your statement."

Dean was leaning over his shoulder when he looked down. His eyes were sticky with sympathy.

The officer was lingering just a foot from him. She looked confused, gaze flickering between him and the now empty street.

"Dean ..." he turned to his only comfort. "She-- my face ..."

His brother nodded. "Yeah, I know. I know, Sammy."

He patted him. "Just give her some time to breath, okay? Let's finish here."

Every nerve-ending in his body was screaming at him to chase you down the street. To break through the nosy locals and crawl his way up your porch steps: beg on his knees for forgiveness.

Just give her some time. He didn't know if his mind was ringing or if Dean had said it again, but Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

The officer pressed her pen back to her little notebook. She nodded, "Okay so you guys followed the perpetrator into the forest. Male, blonde hair, you said?"

Dean made a grunt of agreement.

-

The night was so cold, Sam remembered.

A thin sheet of drizzle was patching up the sidewalk when his heavy footsteps crept up along it. Barely enough to dampen his hair, but his jacket felt impossibly heavy over his shoulders.

It was past midnight. The police had held them down: a trip to the station, a tower of signed documents and a sketch artist later there he finally was, standing feeling small for the first time in his life at the edge of your property.

Wind was twirling a thin line of smoke off your porch. He could see you through the darkness.

You said nothing. Eyes connected with his across your impeccably maintained grass.

It egged him forward.

His footsteps were loud clambering up the three wooden steps onto your porch.

You were leaned back into the arms of an ornate wooden rocking chair he'd noticed on his first trip up those same stairs. You weren't looking at him anymore: eyes drifting over the quiet street.

Sam was at least glad to find you bundled up in a blanket.

In your lap sat was the strangest-looking pipe he'd ever seen. An obnoxiously long chamber with a bulbous bowl at the end.

A string of purple smoke was curling out from between your lips. "You're here."

He couldn't tell if it was a question or not. Your face was as passionless as he'd ever seen it: offering him nothing.

"I promised I would be."

You nodded slowly, bringing the pipe up to your mouth and sucking on it steadily, still not looking at him. "How are the kids?"

Sam's hands bunched at his side. A dreadful burning viper was slithering between his organs. In this light he could see the smooth cut against your face, a misaimed throw of a blade from Dean when a tiny grotesque goblin had leapt up at him.

"They're ... they're fine. T-They're good."

"Did you know?"

You're looking at him now. It's the question he knew was coming but it knocks him breathless all the same.

He draws breath, mind spinning between the truth and an easier lie. "I--"

"Don't lie, Sam."

Your eyes are piercing him, like an arrow to the chest. He swallows hard. "Yes ... I did."

The pipe draws up to your mouth again, you let out a soft humourless laugh. It's followed out by another cloud of glittering smoke. The laugh so empty that it dries Sam's mouth.

"I ... the life I lead," he starts again, the snippets of a speech that he'd been stewing on his whole life for this exact moment coming out sounding more pathetic than he ever thought they could. "It's no life for you. For anyone, and I couldn't do that to someone I... I-I love. To tie you to me, I've done terrible things you don't know--"

"And you think I haven't?" You're rising from the chair now, pipe thudding to the floor. Your voice is prickled in a rising anger. "That I'm some jewel who could never imagine what life is like on the run? To kill and hurt for survival?"

The rain was coming down harder. Trees and bushes leaning against the push of the wind. Sam was so lost in the heat of your eyes that he didn't notice the creep of a thick-set branch crawling up the edge of the porch, down over the lip of the roof.

"Were you just gonna leave?" Your voice never rose but he flinched like you'd screamed it at him. The flush of fury setting your cheeks alight, illuminating the scar that put you both there. "You were, weren't you?"

The touch was wet and solid when it wrapped around his ankle, the branch wrenching him by both ankles back against the bannister of the porch. He gasped when the wood struck his back: another thick brown limb winding around his neck, not enough to hurt but enough to fix his head in your direction and stop him from toppling over.

It took a couple gulps of breath to realise that it was the tree. The one wrapped around your cottage, that it was you.

"This is a two way street, Sam." you pressed up against his chest, eyes alight with a power you'd never let show before. "You bang me up for years and years, and I sit and wait for you. And you were just gonna leave? Leave me to patch up all your bullet holes and your wolf bites?"

Shame drains his cheeks of warmth. He doesn't fight the tree's grip, purposefully ignores the sharpened blade that's still well within his reach. Sam shakes his head as well as he can: he doesn't know what to say. His whole pathetic speech meant nothing anymore and he didn't think this could hurt any harder until he realises that tears are streaming quietly down your perfect perfect face.

You're pressed up against him, your warmth seeping into his bones.

Forehead meeting his pectoral, you shake your head too. Tears wetting his shirt.

"I was scared." He finally lets out, it's pitiful. "I didn't know this is what it felt like. I didn't know love could feel like this."

"I'm scared too, you know." You whisper into him.

In a surge of bravery, or maybe just stupidity - he couldn't tell anymore, his hand finds your jaw: tipping it up to face him.

God, he never thought you could be more beautiful but you were blinking up at him with wet lashes and a trembling lip and he was ready to give up his whole fucking life for you. Lay down the gun and never pick it up again, let Dean drive alone out and far away from Fernglade.

It was all made more real when you leaned up onto your toes, nose brushing his and hands finding his neck.

You moved no closer, warm breath caressing the bow of his lip, but Sam would be damned if being hog-tied by some oak tree was gonna stop him from the taste of you so he wrapped a strong arm over your waist and tugged you just that little distance further.

The feeling of your lips crashing on his couldn't be any sweeter. He imagined that this is what a firework felt like when it leapt into the sky and burst.

Your mouth was desperate, like his, and your hands wrapped around the base of his shivering neck.

You tasted like sweet tea and tangy like whatever was in your magical pipe and if the tree wasn't holding him upright he'd have crashed to his knees. You whined lowly and it stoked the fire pit in Sam's stomach.

His tongue slipped past your lips, struggling against the hold of the oak tree to let his hands roam your back. Your mouth was wet hot and he knew he could kiss you forever, until his oxygen depleted and he was dead for the world.

But you stepped back, eyes wide like you'd been doused over with ice water. A hand wiped at your mouth, at the mix of his and your's saliva coating your lips.

"You ..." your voice trembled. "You should go."

You stumbled back down the porch, door creaking as it opened and banging as it shut.

The grip of the tree loosened and Sam watched it's branches creep back under the porch. It became still again, rain calming to a measly patter and bushes watching quietly.

"Fuck." he whispered.

-

Sam shut the car door obnoxiously loud after him. The leather of the Impala creaked loudly when Dean followed in suit, hands reaching up to the slick black wheel.

"You're sure?"

Without answering, Sam shifted to take one last look at the Pinecone Motel and it's chipping copper paint.

"Fine." Dean turned the key into the ignition, car rumbling to life beneath them.

In the backseat is his and Sam's rucksacks and duffle-bags jam-packed with their few worldly possesions. The same bags haphazardly zipped shut that same morning when Sam eventually busted through the door demanding that they left Fernglade right fucking now.

The sun was just barely creeping over the town and morning chill frosted the view through the windscreen. It's busy despite the time: open signs are flickering on and men in aprons are heaving crates of apples onto stands under fairylight-lit doorways.

Bad Moon Rising hummed through the crumbly speakers and Sam slammed the switch on the dash so it shut off.

"Hey!" Dean calls, "take it easy man. She's gentle."

He pat the dash softly where Sam has just knocked it. Still, his brother says nothing.

"Okay." He huffed, pulling the car into a spot near the sidewalk in front of a lifeless diner. Dean twists in his seat to face Sam: "you've barely said a word all morning."

Sam tugged his jacket closer over his frame. "I said I don't wanna talk about it."

"Yeah, yeah. You've been saying that all damn week." Dean's arm lifted to rest against the back of the seat. "But you're gonna talk now. This isn't some passing girl that you can just pack your bags and run away from. You're gonna have to go there and apologise."

Sam's expression curls in anger. "Yeah, Dean, I did that! And she tied me up with tree branches and kicked me off her porch--"

"Well, boo hoo!" Dean tightened his one-handed grip on the steering wheel. "Do it again! Do it until she forgives you."

"I don't need your advice, Dean. I've made up my mind, we're leaving."

A cat was scratching on a growing weed at the edge of the sidewalk, Sam focused on it to avoid his brother's eyes. They were hot and he could feel them burning a hole into the side of his face.

"Can we just go."

"What is it?" Dean spoke again, this time quieter. Cool fog followed the words out his mouth. "What are you scared of?"

Sam ran both hands through the tendrils of hair over his scalp. He sighed. "I'm ... she's not gonna be able to forgive me."

"Are you gonna be able to forgive yourself?"

There was a long quiet.

It was broken by a car passing noisily. It draws Dean's attention and he nodded quietly to himself. "Fine. Wisconsin?"

"Yeah." Sam agrees quietly.

The car started again, Dean went to turn to radio back up. "Will you grab my jacket, I left it in the trunk. It's fucking freezing in here."

Sam sighed again. "Fine."

"Thanks."

The door clicked open again. He's barely both feet out the car when it grumbles and swerves off the sidewalk, Sam tripped over the edge nearly onto the concrete, and by the time he's stabled himself: the Impala was racing down the main road.

"You'll thank me for this!" His brother's voice faded with the car's black silhouette.

Sam's hands returned to his hair again, "son of a bitch!"

An old lady across the street turned to him with an affronted look. He waves her off, kicking at the same weed the cat had abandoned in the flurry of commotion.

Above him, the diner sign flickers on: The Frothy Mug. He stopped.

It felt like years between when he was last standing under the same light of the sign. In front of the same three steps that he watched your eyes sparkle at him: your hand tucked warmly against his.

"Fucking ..." the expletives died on his tongue. He's right, that asshole.

"I'm a fucking idiot."

Sam's legs began moving before he even knew they were, chasing down the same route he'd meandered along with you three nights previous. He's sprinting, breathing a purposeless afterthought as the diner disappeared behind him.

Past the pharmacy, the laundromat, The Bloom Box. All the way to the end of town where your cottage and your trees and your flowers and you waited for him.

Sam panted clouded breaths as the sight came into view at the end of the road. The morning sunlight lit your garden a bright orangey eden. His steps were just as heavy as they were in the early hours of that same morning when he trudged up the same stone pathway.

He didn't let himself hesitate, bringing red, bruised knuckles up against the hardwood door. The knock rumbled through the house and shakes every bone in his body.

There was a long pause. Then a scuffle, a sniff and a "Goose, get back".

The door creaked and you stood in the doorway like you had the first day his feet found this porch.

While expected, Sam was taken aback by the sight of you. You're in a matching set of pajamas, green - unsurprisingly - and covered in little ladybugs. Your face was swollen with sleep, eyelashes kissing in the corner and lips puffy.

"Sam--" you sighed, but Sam's hands find your shoulders gently.

"I know it's early, but please listen. I'm an idiot." He sounded desperate, but couldn't find a way to help it.

"Yes." You nodded.

"And I'm sorry." He nodded along with you. "And it took Dean kicking me out the car to get me here because - like I said - huge idiot, but I'm sorry. I'm a sorry, sorry idiot who's so in love with you that he doesn't know what to do with himself."

Your eyebrow curls, "Dean kicked you out the car?"

Sam's eyes rolled. "Yes. I was going to leave, because I'm a coward too. A cowardly idiot who doesn't deserve forgiveness, but I'm asking for it anyways."

You shrugged, head dipping to almost rest against your shoulder. Your face almost, almost laced in amusement. "Begging always looks a little more convincing on your knees, Sam."

His knees knock loudly when they hit the wooden porch. Sam's hands slide down to find yours.

"I'm sorry." He said again, the only words his brain could formulate under the shine of you in your morning glory - the sight of a woman he wanted to see every morning until forever. "Please let me make it up to you?"

Your hands released his slowly, rising to run through his chestnut hair and settling at the base of his neck. You smile.

He thought he might be dreaming but you lean down and kiss him gently. A tinkle of bells rang through the air and Sam smiled against your mouth.

You brushed your nose against his: "I forgive you, Sam."

Sam's hands grip against your hips before floating back and brushing against the edge of the silken wings at your back.

"Really?"

"Yes. Now come in here and show me how sorry you are."

-

remember to comment and repost please!

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#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester drabble #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

[proxima-writes]

title: marked me like a bloodstain | part three

part one | part two

pairing: dark smuggler!joel miller x smuggler!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 2980

summary:

You save Joel’s life when the two of you are attacked on a smuggling run.

He has an interesting way of saying thank you.

author’s note: another installment for my dark!joel series. please please please heed the tags on this one, y’all. reader discretion is advised. if you like this story, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging - they make my day

you can also buy me a coffee if you want

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, canon typical violence (including death of raiders), no use of y/n, mentions of blood, degradation, pet names, MEAN MEAN MEAN joel, knife play, blood play, dom/sub dynamics, choking, gagging, spanking, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, ass play, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, bondage, no aftercare. please let me know if any have been missed.

The raiders appeared out of nowhere.

One minute, you’re canvassing a new building for trade supplies and the next you’re hiding beneath a desk, the sounds of Joel struggling to fight off the three men who’ve ambushed you echoing in your ears. It’s just the two of you this run, Tess having stayed back to deal with a personal matter, which leaves you outnumbered. 

When the men had burst into the room in a shower of glass from the windows, Joel had shoved you aside and demanded that you hide. Your hand grips your Bowie knife tightly as you try to steady your breathing.

You peer around the desk. Joel’s on his knees, two of the men standing over him while the third lays in a pool of blood that’s slowly growing in size, Joel’s knife sticking out of his chest. One of the men holds a goddamn machete, his lips curled in a sneer as he regards Joel.

“Fuckin’ old man here thinks he can fight, huh?” He asks his companion with a laugh, heavy Boston accent grating to your ears when you’re used to Joel’s Texan drawl. “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

The other man spits on the ground, near Joel’s hand. Your grip grows impossibly tighter on your knife. 

You’re about to make a dumb decision. A colossally stupid decision. One that is going to get you into so much trouble with the asshole whose life you’re about to attempt to save.

Both of the raiders have their backs to you. One of them doesn’t have any visible weapon, he’s just a big fucking guy with a mean bark and meaner fists. 

Which means you have to target the one holding a twenty inch razor sharp blade and incapacitate him before he can chop off any number of body parts.

No sweat.

You stand slowly, quietly, hardly daring to breathe as you leave the safety of your hiding spot. You creep with careful steps as the two idiots continue to taunt Joel. You twist the knife in your grip, turning it in your palm until your thumb is positioned on the bottom of the hilt. You wrap your other hand on top for stability and power.

When you’re right behind the oblivious man you raise your arms above your head and bring the blade down into his neck. He goes down to his knees with a surprised shout, dropping his weapon as you twist the knife and savagely rip it from its entry point.

His hands wrap around his bleeding throat. Joel launches for the machete, grappling with the other man as you bring the knife down again and again and again, stumbling forward in your efforts until you’re straddling the man as you rip your blade into him.

There’s a shout behind you that drags you from your vendetta, and you look up to find the accomplice standing above Joel, trying to press the machete to his neck. You take a running start at the man, colliding with him to knock him off. The machete clatters to the ground as you pin the man to the ground with your body, a knee digging painfully into his back as you press your blade to his throat.

“You don’t fuckin’ touch him,” you growl, sliding the sharp edge over the thin skin and watching in satisfaction as he sputters and chokes on his own blood. 

You stand, wiping the blood across your jeans. Joel stands a few feet away, chest heaving with labored breaths. His eyes are dark as he stares you down. 

“You’ve got some blood on your shirt,” you say, a stupid observation to break the thick tension as he continues to stare at you. He takes careful heavy steps in your direction.

“You stupid fuckin’ girl,” he says lowly. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“Yeah, and a thank you would be nice!” You snap back. You clench your jaw as he stands toe to toe with you, looking down at you with derision.

His hand grips your wrist, squeezing so hard you yelp and drop your knife, the blade clattering to the ground. He crouches, picking it up and advancing on you. 

You stumble backwards, hitting a wall with a thump. He presses the tip of the blade to the delicate skin of your throat.

“You wanna listen to me now, baby?”

_______

Joel smirks at the flash of fear he sees in your eyes, high off the feeling it gives him. He’d been ready to accept death if it meant those men didn’t get a hand on you, and here you go throwing yourself at them like a rabid animal in his defense. The image of you savagely slicing each man up is burned in his brain, his cock hard as a rock in his jeans as he stares down at you. 

Christ, he’s a monster. But his beast seems to call to yours in perfect harmony. 

You swallow, the tip of the knife pressing deeper with the motion. Joel drags it down your chest, lightly scraping it across your clavicle, down between your breasts. He dips it under the hem of your dingy tank top, using it to draw the fabric up your stomach. 

“Tell me somethin’,” he says, eyes fixed on the glint of metal against the skin he slowly exposes. “Did it make you wet?”

“D-did w-what make me wet?” You stutter. 

“Killin’ those men.” Joel lifts the fabric above your breasts and pulls down one cup of your bra to expose your nipple to the cool air. He presses the flat of the blade against the taut little bud, earning him a hiss. “If I slipped my hand down into your panties, would they be soaked?”

You shake your head, and Joel smiles.

“Liar.”

________

Joel’s smile is terrifying. It’s sharp and mean and sinister as he looks down at you with dark eyes and darker intentions. 

He’s right, though. You are a liar. A dirty, filthy liar.

“Take off your pants,” Joel commands. When you don’t move, he presses that goddamn blade against your skin again. “Now. Or I’ll cut them off.”

That gets you moving, if only because you have a very limited amount of clothing and can’t afford to lose a pair of perfectly good pants. Definitely not because your heart beats in triple time at the thought of what Joel might do to you once they’re off.

You clumsily remove your shoes and tug your pants down your legs, pushing them off to the side. You press your thighs together, hoping to hide what you’re certain is a sizeable wet spot.

But he notices. He always notices.

The blade is dragged up your thigh, a light scratch to your skin that leaves goosebumps in its wake. Your mouth goes dry as he slips the sharp edge beneath the waistband and pulls. 

The elastic snaps against your skin, the fabric hanging limply off your hips. He holds your gaze as he does it to the other side before reaching roughly between your legs to pull it free. 

Joel inspects the fabric, holding it up to his face. He rubs a thumb over the gusset and you can see the string of arousal that his thumb collects. He makes a disappointed noise.

“When will you learn, huh?” He asks. “When will it get through that pretty little head of yours that you can’t fuckin’ fool me.” You don’t reply, your mouth too dry and brain too fuzzy to form words.

“On your knees,” he demands. You drop heavily to the ground, the sting of concrete on your knees making you wince. “Hands out.”

You hold both hands out to him and he twists the mangled fabric of your underwear around your wrists, binding them together. The elastic cuts painfully into your skin, making you whine. He grips your cheeks and forces you to look up at him.

“Not another goddamn sound,” he snaps. He unbuttons his pants, pulling them down only far enough to free his cock. It slaps against his belly before he takes it in hand, pumping himself roughly. “Open that pretty mouth, sweetheart. It got you in trouble by lyin’ so now we have to teach it a lesson, don’t we, baby?”

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out for him. He runs the ruddy head of his cock over your tongue, the flavor and heat of him exploding across your tastebuds making you groan. 

You don’t realize your mistake until it’s too late.

His fingers tangle in your hair, digging against your scalp and tugging your head back with a rough grip.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” Joel growls. He crouches, getting right up to your face. “I said not another goddamn sound. If you’re not gonna listen, I’m gonna leave you here as a treat for the next group of raiders.”

He releases your head and grips your chin, sliding his thumb over your lips. “Can you behave? Answer me.”

“Yes, sir.”

_______

Joel groans, slipping his thumb between your plush lips. He loves to see you like this, so pliant to his depravity with your eyes wide in fear but dark with lust. 

He presses your mouth open by squeezing your cheeks, tilting your head back with a rough jerk of his hand. He gathers the spit on his tongue, pursing his lips and letting it fall into your waiting mouth. Your lashes flutter as it hits your tongue, depraved little thing that you are.

“Dirty fuckin’ thing,” he teases. You’re silent this time, staring up at him with desperate eyes. 

Good, he thinks. He wants you desperate. For him and him alone.

He releases your face and takes his cock in hand again, feeding it between your lips. He groans at the feel of your hot mouth, the press of your tongue against the underside of his dick, the scrape of your teeth as he draws back out. 

Joel’s thrusts are slow but deep, pressing as far back into your throat as he can, until he feels it constrict and flutter against him. He groans, low and deep in his chest like it’s conjured from his very soul. You gag, tears sliding down your face in mesmerizing rivulets.

“That’s it, sweetheart, see? Guess this mouth is good for more than just lies, huh?” He says, voice taunting. He withdraws completely and you gasp for breath, falling forward and catching yourself with your bound hands. 

“Stand up,” he commands. You stand slowly with uncoordinated movements, listing slightly to the left. Joel catches you, scooping you up with an arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees. You sag in his arms, head against his chest, and he carries you to the desk you’d been hiding under.

Joel sets you on your feet and turns you to face the desk with a harsh grip on your hips. He presses a hand between your shoulder blades, shoving you down on the grimy surface. He takes a step back, kneeling on the ground and spreading you with a broad palm on each cheek.

“Would you look at that?” He says. “You’re just drippin’, baby.” He leans close, licking you from clit to quivering entrance. “You taste like sin, you know that?”

You whine, squirming on the table. Some unintelligible words float through the air, but Joel can’t decipher them. He slips a thumb into your soaked cunt and you gasp, clenching around him. He withdraws, sliding the slick digit to your ass, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You squeal, trying to wiggle away from the intrusion and he brings a palm down on your ass with a harsh smack that echoes in the building.

“Quit squirmin’. If I want to play with all your little holes, I will. And you’ll scream for it,” he growls. 

“Joel,” you moan. You sound drunk, his name nothing but a slur of letters from your lips. “Please!”

His responding smile is sharp. Mean. More animal than man.

______

You can’t fucking think. Joel’s hands are everywhere except where you want them most. They trail across your back and ass and thighs, but never once does he get close enough to your aching center to give you any sense of relief. 

“Please,” you sob. “I need it, Joel.”

“What do you need?”

“Need your cock, need you to fuck me, need you to split me open,” you babble. There’s the clink of his belt and the sound of his zipper drawing down, sounds that make your pussy clench and drip in anticipation like goddamn Pavlov’s dog.

“Beggin’ me for my cock like a greedy little slut,” he teases. He notches his thick head at your hole. “Well, if you want it so bad, better get to work.”

You blink, confused. “But—“

You’re cut off by a sharp smack to your ass that makes you shout. “You heard me.”

You swallow before tentatively working your hips back against his length. He sinks in slowly, stretching you harshly and you suck in a tight breath as he slowly fills you until you finally don’t feel so empty.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that,” Joel groans, a rare phrase of encouragement that makes your brain buzz. You rock forward and back along his cock, moaning as he drags across that spot inside of you that makes you see stars and forget your name.

“Hold still,” Joel commands, breaking through your brain fog. You obey with a whine that sounds pitiful even to your own ears. He withdraws completely and while you can’t see what he’s doing, you can feel his eyes scorching your skin. “Just wanted to see how hungry this little cunt was for my cock. Clenchin’ on nothin’.”

You feel a tear slip from the corner of your eye. Your wrists ache beneath the elastic of your panties, your throat burns from his earlier abuse, and you want so badly to come you think you might go insane with it. 

He slams back inside of you with no warning. The smack of his hips against the back of your thighs rings through the air and you gasp and try to escape the onslaught of sensation, wiggling forward and rising on the tips of your toes. He yanks you back with a rough grip on your hips, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure to find evidence of him long after he leaves you.

Joel’s weight shifts, pressing to your back until he can wrap a rough palm around your throat, dragging your body upright with him, your back bowing dramatically as he holds you to him. 

“I’m feelin’ generous, baby,” he says in your ear, voice rough like gravel. “I’m gonna let you come all over my cock like I know you’re dyin’ to. But I’m not gonna touch that achin’ little clit. You come on my cock or you don’t come at all. You understand?”

You nod your head, clenching around him at his words and his tone and his possessive grip on every facet of you. Your vision tunnels as you chase your release, an easy enough task when every sharp thrust of his hips is making you see stars. 

The fingers on your throat tighten the slightest bit more and his hips drive into the slightest bit harder and it’s enough to send you over the edge. You shake in his arms as your muscles tighten and your pussy flutters around him, crying out as his cock continues to split you open. You’re whining, oversensitive as he pounds into you with rougher, more uncoordinated thrusts as he finds his own pleasure.

He withdraws suddenly and simultaneously drops the hand around your throat, making you collapse forward without the support. A wet hot heat lands on your back, thick ropes of his spend marring your skin.

You feel Joel drag his fingers through it and he brings his hand to your lips. You open your mouth to him, the digits slipping across your tongue and leaving behind the salty taste of him.

You feel him step away and you stand slowly, head still spinning from the adrenaline and the orgasm and the experience that is Joel fucking Miller.

He comes back with your discarded shoes and pants, tossing them both at your feet. He reaches for your hands, slipping the flat edge of the blade beneath them and slicing them off.

“Get dressed,” he growls, leaving your blade on the table. Your eyes drift to it as he stomps away. 

With jerky movements you step into your pants and pull them up your legs before sliding your shoes back on. You pick up the knife, testing the weight of it in your hand before heading outside.

Joel stands with his back to you. Your fingers twitch around the handle of your knife. With careful, quiet steps. Your brain runs through a million scenarios, but you decide on one.

With a harsh kick to the back of his knees, Joel collapses with a surprised shout. You tackle him, his surprise giving you an upper hand as you wrestle him between your legs, knees pinning his biceps to the dirt. He looks up at you in surprise, the first time you’ve seen such an expression on the formidable man.

Joel’s tense muscles ease the slightest bit when he sees its you. His chest is heaving with labored breaths as you press the tip of the blade beneath his chin. You drag it up his jaw, mesmerized by the glint of metal against his tan skin. You caress his cheekbone with the sharp tip, like a lover would with their thumb. 

He hisses as the skin breaks in the wake of the blade, a small line of red bubbling to the surface. You grin at him.

“Next time I save your life? Just say thank you,” you murmur. 

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727  @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #Joel Miller x reader fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #joel miller x you #dark joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #hbo tlou

[downtroddendeity]

@turnkeyassurance saw your tags and figured I'd take the opportunity to pause my descent into madness to give my more sober opinions on the Ni no Kuni franchise, lol. (Warning: I am a humongous JRPG nerd)

The NNK games are really odd ducks, quality-wise. You can call either one a good game or a bad game and call either one better than the other, and any combination of those opinions can be something I think is entirely justified. Both of them have things they do remarkably well and also serious, profound, deal-breaking flaws, and the really weird thing is that there's almost no overlap between those two lists for the two games. What clicks and doesn't about both of them is going to be deeply individual.

What Ni no Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch does, with resounding success, is Vibes. It sets out at every single step with the goal of being a playable Ghibli movie, and it sticks to that principle. It's all about beautiful, cel-shaded whimsy. It's a game for people who want to feel like they're wandering through the meadows in the movie version of Howl's Moving Castle. There are lots of puns, and you can befriend all the random encounter monsters and feed them ice cream.

But that's also its Achilles' heel: because it's dedicated entirely to imitation, it has trouble bringing things to the table that are really its own. It has the visual and narrative aesthetics of Hayao Miyazaki's films, but it doesn't have the raw emotion at the heart of them. And as a game, its mechanics combine the clunkiest features of menu-based combat and action RPGs, and while everything about the Pokemon-esque mechanics seems designed to encourage players to collect and experiment with them, the balancing turns attempting to do that into a miserable grindy nightmare.

The other problem is that it... isn't actually the first Ni no Kuni game. Wrath of the White Witch is, in fact, a remake of the Nintendo DS game Ni no Kuni: Dominion of the Dark Djinn, which was never released outside Japan. The reason for this is pretty easy to explain, because DDD had another gimmick besides its aesthetics: it came with a real-life physical copy of the wizard spellbook, and the player had to look things up in it and draw sigils on the DS touchscreen to cast spells. So, we've got a high-effort remake that had to completely cut the central mechanic... and which also expanded the plot so that the original main villain was no longer the primary antagonist. This results in a game with what is very clearly a final dungeon and very clearly a final boss and very clearly a resolution to the story, which suddenly has a completely different plot dropped on it like a fucking anvil that it expects you to be just as invested in even though it hasn't had anything like the same level of buildup.

And ironically, this is almost the exact opposite of the biggest problem with Ni no Kuni 2: Revenant Kingdom, a.k.a. the one with my new blorbo, the President of the United Union of Eagleland. 2 is an effort to try to cement an identity for the series that can be its own, rather than requiring them to depend indefinitely on borrowed Miyazaki nostalgia. It just has the teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy problem that at some point in development it had a budget shortfall so bad that you can finish the game without ever realizing that there is a continent-sized crashed interdimensional spaceship on the world map.

This game has had a machete taken to it. Don't get me wrong, I genuinely respect the work they did to make what they could with what they had, but you can see the signs of massive scope cuts to literally every aspect of the game. The back half of the game has almost exclusively recycled enemy and environment assets; voice acting has been trimmed down to canned voice clips; the catboy protagonist's ears and tail are barely animated; one minigame was so inadequately playtested that a level 16 mission is massively harder than level 50 ones; and while whatever restructuring they had to do to the main plot still left the final version with a more solid and coherent central arc than WWW in my opinion, it also left a lot of truly gaping plot holes, like oh, I don't know, why the President of the United States got turned into a 19-year-old.

Literally, they just. Entirely forgot to explain that. Half the DLC is just the writers scrambling to fix stuff like that and add a bunch of character development that should have been in the base game.

However, despite all this, I personally enjoyed NNK2 more than NNK1 unironically, not just for Rolandposting reasons. Compared to the first one, it plays much more smoothly as a straight action RPG, and while it can't provide the same knock-your-socks-off aesthetic cohesion, to me it seemed a lot more heartfelt- that is, like a game that was made because people had a story they wanted to tell.

But, well, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the non-unironic reasons, because the story they really, genuinely wanted to tell was about a magical catboy growing up and learning to become a leader, and somehow, miraculously, they really thought that was the story I was here for too when they opened the game with the President of the United States being isekaied by Nuke-kun.

Sorry, guys, I have a crippling addiction to dramatic irony and my day job is tech work in local politics, you could not have more laser-targeted this at making me specifically laugh my ass off if you tried.

#turnkeyassurance #reply #gameblogging #/ #// #ni no kuni #ni no kuni 2

[candycandy00]

Pick Me Up - A Gojo x Reader x Geto Halloween Fanfic Part 3

Gojo and Geto are two serial killers who enjoy seducing their victims before killing them. Every year on Halloween they have a friendly competition, and this year the target they both choose is you. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The first two parts will be fairly short and just serve to set up the way these two operate. The third part starts the “main part”. Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated! Divider by @violetbudd

Smut. 18+. Fem Readers. Smut mostly just thought/talked about in this part. Gojo and Geto are both bisexual. 

You’re standing in line at the convenience store, two giant bags of potato chips in your arms. Your friend told you to bring some to the party, so here you are, standing here in a silly white Angel costume. There’s a fake halo on a stick over your head, small white wings attached to a white top that is way too sheer for your comfort. The skirt is shorter than anything you’ve ever worn, and your white thigh-high stockings have little bows at the top. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to look innocent or slutty. Probably both. 

Your friends picked out the costume for you, saying it fit your personality. You don’t know what that says about you, but you’ve decided to take it as a compliment. 

The teenage boy working the register stares at your chest, not even trying to be subtle. You pay for your chips and for some gas you just put into your car, then you head out. 

A group of trick or treaters nearly mow you down as they run into the store, excitedly chanting the familiar phrase as the teenager rolls his eyes and begins dropping handfuls of cheap candy into their colorful buckets and bags. You smile as you watch the little goblins, remembering how much fun you always had as a child on Halloween. 

This year is going to be just as fun, you tell yourself. You’ve never been to a large Halloween party before, but you’re really excited. You hum the Ghostbusters theme to yourself as you toss the chips into the backseat and climb into the driver’s seat of your car. 

***************

Satoru and Suguru have been sitting in the white van, parked far away from the pumps at the gas station, for a couple of hours now. They’re watching the various people who stop for gas, each trying to pick out their special Halloween victim. 

Suguru has one hand buried in a bag of popcorn. “How about her?” he asks, pointing to a “nurse” strutting by. 

Satoru takes a bite of the king sized candy bar in his hand. “Nah. Too easy. I want a challenge tonight. Besides, you need to focus on picking your own target.”

“My taste is more discerning than yours,” Suguru says, holding up the small bag to pour the rest of the popcorn into his mouth. 

“Wait,” Satoru says, pointing with his free hand toward the door of the convenience store, “look at her.”

Walking out of the store after nearly bumping into some kids is the sweetest looking Angel either of them have ever seen. 

“Fuck, she can barely walk in those heels!” Suguru says breathlessly, “Can you imagine chasing her?”

Satoru’s eyes are shining above the rims of his dark sunglasses. “She’d trip so fast. That flimsy outfit would rip… she’d be crawling on the ground, crying her eyes out, begging me not to hurt her…”

Suguru laughs. “Easy, you’re gonna bust a nut.”

“Only in that sweet angel’s mouth,” Satoru says. 

“I’m picking her,” Suguru suddenly declares. 

Satoru swivels in his seat immediately to look at Suguru. “What? No, I’m picking her!”

“Too late. You didn’t get a chance to cut her fuel line.”

Satoru frowns. “I’ve got other ways of getting her into my van.”

“Really? Like what?” Suguru asks. 

Satoru gives him a meaningful look, pulling the shades down. “These baby blues. I could roll up covered in blood, carrying a machete, and she’d still wanna ride my dick after one look into my eyes.”

There’s a moment where Suguru just stares at Satoru silently, allowing himself to get lost in those eyes. Then he looks away. “You’re too full of yourself.”

Satoru laughs, taking anther bite of his candy bar. “Just admit you think my eyes are pretty.”

Suguru ignores him and stares out the windshield, watching the angel climb into her car. “How about we make the contest interesting this year? Let’s both pick her.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows, clearly intrigued by the idea. In years past, they competed to see who could fuck and then kill their individual target first on Halloween night. The rules were pretty simple. They had to act suspicious, and they had to get the target to willingly have sex with them despite throwing up glaring red flags. It was their fun way of testing their own charm and good looks. 

“Okay, let’s do it,” Satoru says, grinning. “If you’re lucky, I might just give you sloppy seconds!”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “I hope you like fucking girls with no skin, because that’s the only way you’re having her tonight.”

They both laugh, and then Suguru gets out of the van, heading to his own vehicle so that he can use the backroads to get ahead of her. 

*****************

You sit for a minute in your car, trying to send a text to your friends to let them know you’ve picked up the extra chips and are heading towards the party, but there’s no service in this area. Too wooded and remote. You sigh and cram your phone into the small white purse beside you. 

A couple miles down the road, you’re blasting Monster Mash on the radio, singing along with the lyrics, when you notice someone walking along the side of the road. You hit the brakes, your car screeching to a halt beside a man with long dark hair, dressed all in black. 

If he’s walking along the road in the dark, he probably needs help! You roll the passenger side window all the way down and lean across the seat as he steps over and bends down to look in at you. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask him, concern obvious in your voice. 

He smiles at you, and you can’t help noticing that he’s incredibly good looking. “I ran out of gas,” he says.

“Well hop in and I’ll take you to the gas station,” you tell him, patting the seat beside you. 

He blinks, hesitating for a moment before that charming smile returns to his handsome face. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice creamy and smooth. “It’s dangerous to pick up hitchhikers, you know. I could be a serial killer.”

You look him over, from his smile to his clean and simple clothing. He sure doesn’t look dangerous. “It’s fine,” you say with a grin. “I’ve got a good feeling about you!”

His eyes widen slightly, then he breaks out into laughter, so much that he clutches his side. “I can’t argue with that logic!” he says, opening the passenger side door and climbing inside. 

“Wow, you smell nice,” you say to him, noticing the fresh fragrance of soap, or maybe laundry detergent. “Is that Gain or Tide?”

He glances at you sideways, seeming a little caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I just use whatever’s handy… I don’t pay attention to brands…”

“Well whatever it is smells great.”

He stares at you for a moment before saying, “Thanks.”

You hate the awkwardness of silence so you decide to keep talking. “Do you live around here?”

“No, just traveling through,” he tells you. 

“I’m going to a Halloween party,” you say brightly. “But I guess that’s obvious.”

He looks you up and down. His gaze feels hot, and you notice his eyes lingering on your legs. “That’s a cute costume,” he says. “So are you sweet like an angel?”

You laugh and slap his arm playfully. “Is that a pick up line?”

He gives you a strange look, unreadable, then smiles again. “I’m just kidding.”

“Well, if you really want to know the truth, I didn’t pick out this costume. My friends did. It’s a little more, uh, risqué than I’m used to.”

“It looks good on you,” he says. 

“Aw, thanks! You’re really sweet!”

Again, that strange look, but then a second later he’s laughing again. You’re not sure how your words were funny at all, but you giggle along with him, caught up in the moment. 

He laughs so much he’s nearly in tears, then he looks over at you with a smile that seems genuine for the first time. “Has anyone ever called you naive?”

You nod, smiling proudly. “Yep! All the time!”

He tilts his head, black as night hair falling over his shoulder. “And you’re not bothered by that?”

“Nope! I’d rather see the good in people and be wrong occasionally than always assume the worst of everyone.”

He chuckles. “You’re like one of those virginal heroines from a horror movie.”

You look at him sharply, then quickly look away, heat spreading across your face. 

“Haha, you’re totally red right now,” he says, then suddenly his smile disappears as his eyes seem to focus on your face. “Wait… why are you so red right now? Are you… a virgin?”

You wince. “Is it really that obvious?” 

His face seems frozen as he stares at you. Then one eyebrow twitches. There’s an excitement in his eyes that confuses you but also gives you a little thrill. 

“You really are an angel, aren’t you?” he asks.  

**********

When the angel pulls back into the gas station, Suguru doesn’t even have to ask if she’ll drive him back to his car. She volunteers, of course. He smiles and thanks her, and heads into the store to pretend to buy some gas. 

To his surprise, Satoru is standing by the magazine rack, thumbing through an issue of Fangoria. 

“Not in any hurry, I see,” Suguru says to him. 

“I know your patterns,” Satoru shoots back. “So, how is she?”

Suguru picks up a random magazine, not even looking at the cover, and pretends to flip through it. “She’s totally innocent and naive. Kind and sweet. She has absolutely no sense of danger, but I don’t think she’s an idiot. And…”

Satoru looks up at him. “And?”

Suguru meets his eyes. “Satoru, she’s a virgin.”

Ahh, there it is. That positively depraved, monstrous gleam in Satoru’s eyes. “Oh fuck,” he says, dropping the magazine back onto the rack. “I could wreck her so bad.”

Suguru understands the appeal. The thought of ruining something so pure and so good is irresistible to people like them. An image creeps into his mind, of that innocent angel choking on Satoru’s huge cock, and he doesn’t know why it turns him on so much. Because he’s also imagining her thighs trembling on either side of his face, gasping moans spilling from her lips. 

“I better get back to work,” Suguru says. 

Satoru waves him off with a smile. He must have some kind of plan in mind, Suguru thinks. 

After buying an empty red gasoline container, Suguru returns to the car, where the angel is waiting patiently for him. She opens the trunk for him to put the gas inside, and soon they’re on the road again. 

***************

The man beside you doesn’t talk much on the drive back to his car. You wish he would. He has such a nice voice. But he smiles warmly when he catches your eye, and he has a way of putting you at ease. You hate to admit it, but you might just be developing a bit of a crush on him. 

He tells you where to pull off the road, and soon enough a car comes into view, parked in a wooded area, behind some trees. You stop your car and turn to him, feeling a little sad that it’s time to part ways. 

“Here you are! Do you need any help?”

He makes no move to get out of the car, but looks at you with an expression you could only identify as “predatory”. But on him, it just looks sexy. “I’m not in any hurry tonight,” he says, turning to face you. “Are you?”

You feel your face heating up again. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’re feeling heated in another place too. “Well my friends are waiting for these chips,” you tell him. “Do you want to come to the party with me?”

“Actually, I was hoping we could spend some time together, just you and me.”

Ohhhh. He wants to hook up. Right here in the woods. You’re not sure how you feel about that. On one hand, he’s smoking hot. You’ve been getting wetter with each passing moment that he’s been in your car. But on the other… do you really want your first time to be with a stranger? You think about it for a moment, looking at his beautiful face, inhaling his pleasant scent. 

Why not live a little? 

“Tell me your name,” you say. 

He blinks at the sudden shift in the conversation. “Huh?”

You turn in your seat to face him. “I don’t want us to be strangers.”

“Ah, I see,” he says, then he smiles. “I’m Suguru.”

You smile back. “I like that name.”  You introduce yourself and then you take a deep breath. “Okay, so what did you wanna spend time doing with me?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it. 

He scoots closer to you, then leans his upper half toward you. “I don’t think you can handle what I want to do with you,” he says, his voice practically dripping with honey. 

You feel a shiver run through your body. Is this really happening? Are you really going to have sex with a guy this gorgeous? That you just met? There’s something scandalous about it that thrills you. “I probably can’t,” you admit, “but you’ll take care of me, right?”

There’s fire in his eyes as he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you gently. One of his hands moves to your hair, caressing it, pulling you closer, making the kiss deeper. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you offer no resistance. After a few moments, he pulls away to look at your face. You’re breathing slightly harder than usual as you say, “Wow, that was some first kiss.”

His eyes widen. “That… was your first kiss?”

You blush. “Yeah. Thanks for making it a good one.”

All at once, as if a switch has been flipped, he’s upon you, his hands rubbing over your body, his lips on yours, then on your neck. It’s a bit overwhelming, but it feels good, and there’s a thrum of energy coursing through you. There’s no doubt in your mind that by morning, you’ll no longer be a virgin.  

And then you hear it, a strange sound, like someone breaking a large stick in the woods. You put your hands on Suguru’s shoulders and lightly push him back. “Did you hear that?”

He presses forward, nuzzling your neck. “I didn’t hear anything,” he murmurs. 

You push him with a bit more force, causing him to stop and look up at you. “There’s someone out there,” you tell him. 

He sighs. “There’s no one out in these woods. Trust me.”

You turn around in the seat, looking out all the windows. There! Someone ran by some trees! “I saw someone,” you yell, pointing toward the spot where the figure disappeared. 

He looks in the direction you pointed. “I don’t see anything.”

“It might be an elderly person who needs help!” you say, starting to open your door. 

He gives you an incredulous look. “An elderly person?”

“They had white hair!”

Suguru’s eyes flatten to unamused slits. “Ah. I see. It’s probably some asshole playing a prank. It’s Halloween after all.”

You slide out of the car. “But what if it’s not? What if some grandma got lost in the woods and needs our help? I won’t be able to relax until I check.”

A look of annoyance passes over Suguru’s face, but he quickly replaces it with a warm smile. “Okay. I’ll help you check.”

“Thanks! You’re a really great guy!”

The two of you move around the car, calling out shouts of “Hello?” and “Is anyone out there?” and even “Shout back if you need help!”

When no answer comes, you run over and open the trunk of your car with the key. “I have a flashlight in here,” you say, digging around. You push the container of gas out of your way, and you notice something strange about it. The container is so light! You reach over and pick it up, and it’s immediately clear that the container is empty. Why would it be empty? Just as the terrible, obvious answer dawns on you, Suguru appears right beside you. 

You look up at him with wide eyes. The empty gas can is still in your hands. 

His eyes shift to the can, then back to your face. “Ah, I guess the jig is up then,” he says in a casual tone. “What a pity. I really, really wanted to fuck that virgin pussy before I kill you.” 

You back away as his words sink in. You watch helplessly as he pulls your keys from the trunk lid and then dangles them in the air. Before he can take a step forward, you fling the empty gas can at him and break into a run as he knocks it out of his way. You only make it a few yards away before you realize running in stiletto heels on uneven forest ground is impossible. 

Stopping for just a moment, you tear off your shoes. When you glance back, Suguru is running toward you. In a panic, you throw the shoes at him one at a time before sprinting into the woods. 

“Ow, fuck,” you hear him shout, “you almost hit my eye!”

“Sorry!” you yell back, a reflex you couldn’t subdue. 

Branches from small trees and bushes scratch you as you flee. Your skirt gets ripped up the side, the thin, cheap fabric of your top is nearly shredded, and your cute white stockings have holes in them now, one of the bows from the top missing. You ignore all of this as you make a beeline for the road. 

You haven’t heard Suguru since you threw the shoes. No yells, no footsteps, no crunching leaves. Either he’s a very quiet pursuer or he’s got some other plan for how to catch you. Both options are terrifying. 

Finally you break free of the trees and reach the road. You scan the area for Suguru, or your own car. He could easily use it to chase you down. You see headlights approaching and you decide to take the chance that it’s not him. You run up alongside the road, waving your arms. 

The vehicle that stops in front of you is a rusty white van, but it looks like a blessing to you right now. The passenger side window rolls down and a man in sunglasses leans over from the driver’s seat. 

“You okay, miss?” 

“No, some guy is after me! I think he wants to kill me!” Your voice is a bit frantic, but you’re trying to stay as calm as possible to avoid scaring him into leaving you behind. 

He looks around as if checking for attackers. Even in your distressed state, you notice how distractingly beautiful he is. He pulls his sunglasses down and looks at you with eyes so blue you almost forget you’re in danger. “Get in,” he says with a disarming smile. “You can tell me all about it and I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

Feeling lucky to be rescued by such a charming prince, you hurry to climb into his van. You look over at him as he pulls back onto the road. “Thanks so much,” you tell him. “You saved my life!”

He grins at you. “Don’t mention it, angel!

Now where can I take you?”

You exhale as you slide down a bit in the seat, trying to decide whether to go to the police or not. You feel like the night has lasted forever, having no clue that your Halloween was only getting started. 

Tag List:

@loyal-to-my-dilf @unearthlydream @noodlejitsu @itzmeme @themonst3rqu33n

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please comment to let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged!

#gojo x reader x geto #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto Suguru #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #Geto smut #x reader

[elegantmusicdragon]

Adventures in Bravo-Sitting

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Babysitter!Reader (f!Reader probably? Can be gn!Reader for now)

Rating/Warning: Just some language! Words that rhyme with certain swears. Me being a menace. You know how it goes.

A/N: Okay so this is for @blueeyesatnight who just went a on a Dieter/Babysitter journey with me and inspired me to crank this fic out in two days. Haven't written a fucking thing except a fic I won't post and THIS. Blue, you're the best and Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas (if you celebrate) and thank you so much for the inspo! Our Dieter/Babysitter thread is my favorite thing and also if you wanna write some of these two or your own version PLEASE DO IT. I encourage it! Much love to you.

To anyone else who may read this: thanks for sticking around and checking this not beta'd dumpster fire. I have no clue what this is. It came out of my brain and onto the page in a frenzy. But it's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Enjoy! And Happy Holidays!

You are terribly confused. 

"We know this is highly unconventional." 

Well, that's putting it mildly. 

"In all honesty, I've seen weirder." A nightmare child smearing his feces all over the baking appliances and a cake his mother had made takes the trophy as of now. Though this situation is a close second. 

The woman, Amanda, smiles at you - relief flooding her features. She readjusts herself on the ridiculously fancy chair she's sitting on. Behind her, a small cluster of people in suits and business skirts gather. And between Amanda and the group? A man. Well, not man. Celebrity. A celebrity who seems to be grumbling something close to the words “ducking shooshes”.  

You never thought you'd end up babysitting Dieter Bravo but, you guess, things could be weirder. 

"Can I just...ask...um...why does a grown man need a babysitter?"

Dieter rolls his eyes and cuts in, "I don't." 

Amanda talks over him, "I'm sure you've seen the...incidents...on the Cliff Beasts set." 

You nod. "Absolutely, who hasn't? A drug overdose, quickie marriage, annulment - all within the span of a year. And the giant bender in Vegas with the showgirl last month? It's been all over the news." 

Amanda nods, tension lining her face. Behind her, Dieter rolls his eyes again. 

"It wasn't that bad." 

Amanda finally graces Dieter with an irritated glance. Her voice raises slightly, “Not that bad, Dee?? You almost destroyed the MGM Grand’s lobby, casino, and the penthouse suite you were staying in! That showgirl almost lost an eye!” 

Dieter rolls his neck back to face the ceiling, “Yeah, but she didn’t. She was fun,” he chuckles. “Liked to party. We still got her number?”

You see a vein throb in Amanda’s forehead. You’re not quite sure if you should butt into their conversation. Amanda grips the planner she holds so tightly, her knuckles begin to turn white. 

“No, Dee. We don’t have her number. You know, since she ALMOST LOST AN EYE??” 

Dieter sighs. “Oh my god, she was fine. It was safe. I was totally able to handle that machete. That lobby guy was just scared.” 

You raise an eyebrow. 

Amanda fires back, “He was the manager!!! And you were swinging a machete at one of his showgirls!” 

“I wasn’t gonna hurt her, god it’s like you think I’m irresponsible or something.” 

Oh god what have you gotten yourself into???

You reach down and attempt to subtly get your belongings. You’ve decided you want no part in…whatever this is. To your utter disappointment, you’re apparently not subtle enough. Amanda’s eyes dart to where your hand is resting on the strap of your bag. Her eyes widen just a fraction in desperation. 

“I know we’re not giving the best impression here. But I promise, this is going to be a very rewarding experience. Dieter is special!” 

She had said that on the phone too, but it was your fault you had misinterpreted it. Dieter clearly is special just…not in the way you were expecting. He’s special in a super-fuckin-entitled-wealthy way. 

You swallow and your eyes dart to Dieter, who hasn’t looked at you once since this whole meet and greet started. 

“Listen, Amanda, I’m really flattered that you and your…” You peter off, realizing the entire group of people behind her are now listening to you basically say no to this insane job. Are they really surprised you’re not interested in this? 

You clear your throat and continue, “team…want me to do this. I just don’t quite think I’m what you’re looking for.” 

Amanda looks behind her at a gentleman in a neatly pressed suit. He leans forward and whispers something in her ear. She nods, and turns back to you. Dieter remains absorbed in the ceiling. 

“Alright,” Amanda starts, “how about I show you what your pay would look like and we’ll take it from there? Maybe we could do a trial run if the amount is to your liking?” 

Dieter snorts. “It’ll be to her liking, I’m loaded.” 

Amanda rolls her eyes. Despite that, she keeps her focus on you. “Well?” She asks. 

You sigh. You know you’re caught between a rock and hard place. Money? Or no money? Well, even if this job isn’t what you necessarily thought it would be, it couldn’t hurt to look at the amount. Why the hell not? 

You shrug. “Sure,” you reply back to Amanda. “I guess looking at the number can’t hurt.” 

She smiles and nods, turning to confer with the gentleman behind her again. They whisper to each other for a few minutes before Amanda turns back to you. 

“Okay! I just want to clarify that we’ll be starting with a trial run of a week. If just you, or both you and Dieter-” 

He snorts at his name. Amanda studiously ignores him and continues on. 

“Are interested in keeping this arrangement going, we’ll re-discuss and go from there. Is that amenable to you?”

You nod. “Sounds good to me.” 

Amanda smiles widely, looking truly relieved for the first time since you stepped into the room. 

“Great!” She replies. She reaches behind her to grab a small piece of paper from the suited gentleman (who is he???) and hands it over to you. You surreptitiously glance over at Dieter. For the first time, you find his eyes on you. You shiver slightly. His eyes sparkle with…something. 

You look back down at the folded piece of paper in your hands. You’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. You open it slightly and see the number written down.

WOW that’s a LOT of zeroes! Holy crap. 

You look at Amanda.

“Trial run it is.” 

P.S. Banners by @firefly-graphics

Tags:

@grampsgirl14

@apsiringghostmusicians

Anyone else want a tag? Lemme know!

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fic #fanfiction #fic #blueeyesatnight

[forgetminot]

Stay With Me.

♡ Rick Grimes x gn reader ♡

[ Warnings : Reader gets bit, blood, gore, violence, amputation, angst, angst, angst, profanities, tiny tiny bit of fluff if you squint, late prison era before the governor attack ]

Author's Note : My first Rick fic of many because I'm an older man simp. Should i write part two, with some fluff? O.o

Prompt/Story Idea : "I think I'd look cute as a walker, don't you?"

You had been on many supply runs since the world fell apart, planning ahead; making sure you had a simple way in and out of whatever building you were looting. You started off alone, that's how you preferred it, it was easier that way- at least that's what you thought. Days turned into weeks and then into months and running alone just wasn't an option anymore. The dead roamed the street more than ever and you needed safety in numbers; so you found yourself a group, a family.

"If you stick to the back entrance, you should get in and out quick and easy." You nod. Taking the crumpled map from Glenn's hand, folding it up and placing it in your ragged bag. "Rick should be here any minute."

"Rick?" You question. "I thought it was Daryl and I doing this one."

"Rick thought it was best that he went out on a hunt, to get the food supply up more."

"I thought it was the better option." You turn in the direction of Rick's voice, as he jogs down the hill towards you and Glenn.

"Well, okay then." Smiling, you open the passenger side door and glance over your shoulder at Rick. "You can drive." You wink throwing the car keys at Rick and he catches them with ease. Raising your eyebrow in approval you hop into the car, throwing your bag on the back seat; Rick does the same.

It's about an hour drive to the location. Rick and you spend the time talking back and forth about how you would pull this run off quick but efficiently. You reach and grab your bag from the back seat, pulling out the map Glenn gave you. Your eyes scan across the old paper, red pen scattered across it from where Glenn had marked. "It's just up here." You point to the road on your left and Rick turns in, pulling up and switching off the engine.

"Ready?" Rick asks, you nod and open the car door, stepping out onto the gravel floor. You throw your bag over your shoulders walking towards the run down pharmacy with Rick following you close behind. "I take it your leading the way on this one?" You stop, turning to face Rick.

"If that's okay with you?"

"Course it is." You take your machete out from its holster, gripping the handle tightly in your hand. Tapping on the window, you and Rick wait patiently. "Nothing?" He asks.

"Nothing." You state. Opening the door you enter the pharmacy, it's a complete mess; shelves knocked over, old medical supplies and glass shattered all over the floor. "Watch your step." You whisper. Rick nods, heading over to one of the fallen shelves and he lifts it slowly; standing it back up on its base. "Anything?" You ask as you scavenge what you can from the shelves and drawers.

"Some filthy bandages. 'will need a good clean." He shoves them into his bag and continues to search the aisle.

"Keep an eye out for condoms!" You shout. Rick stands up, staring at you from over the shelves; a confused look on his face. "Glenn wanted some." You state, Rick rolls his eyes as you laugh and he returns to the box he was looking through. you head towards a separate door with the word 'office' signed above it. Placing your hand on the door handle you turn it- but it doesn't budge. ''Must be blocked'' you whisper to yourself. Turning to your left you position yourself at the door and ram your right shoulder against it, once, twice and then a third time. "Third time's the charm." You smile to yourself as the door flies open from the force.

"Fuck!" You shout, placing your arms against the body in front of you, you force the walker back and sink your machete into its skull, blood splashing against the walls. It falls to the ground with a thud.

"Y/n!" Rick rushes into the room, his knife raised. "Shit! Are you okay?" He asks, glancing down at the now dead walker.

"I- I think so." You're out of breath, chest heaving up and down with every word you say. You take a seat in the office chair and place your machete down on the desk. " I didn't even hear it." You state, shock covering your face. You freeze. Staring down at your forearm; it's drenched in blood, both from you and the walker. "No! No, Fuck! No!" Sunk into your arm is a bite mark, fresh and dripping with blood; you turn pale just from looking at the bite. Rick takes slow steps towards you, lifting your arm up to his height and gently rubbing the blood away.

"We need to amputate it." He's calm as he speaks, but you can see the panic written on his face.

"What?" You gasp, standing up and stepping back from Rick. "Yeah, no." You laugh quietly to yourself. "I think I'd look cute as a walker, don't you?" So many thoughts are running through your head. Maybe you would prefer to be a walker? Is it worth the amputation if you bleed out anyway? What if it doesn't work? What if we're too late? Rick's eyes are pleading with you, staring you down and you don't know what to do. You are an hour away from the prison, there's no way you'd make it back in time. It needs to be done now, while there's still time. "Okay." You say, your voice barely a whisper. "Do it." You sit back down, placing your arm firmly on the office table. Rick quickly removes his belt and ties it around your arm. Taking your machete, he raises it above him and looks you straight in the eyes.

"Ready? On three." You take a deep breath looking away and staring at the bloody wall. "One-" He brings the machete down with force and you scream out as it slashes your skin, tears streaming down your cheeks as he continues to cut through your bone, blood and flesh covering the table. "Stay with me." He whispers as he takes one last swing with the machete, cutting your arm completely from your body. You can't move, you can't talk. You sit frozen in fear, staring down at the bloody stump where your arm once was. Shaking you look up at Rick as he rips the bottom of his shirt and wraps it around your amputation. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the room from spinning. Your head feels extremely light as you shake it back and forth. "Stay with me." Rick repeats as he scoops you up in his arms, rushing through the pharmacy and out to the car. He pulls the back door open and lays you down on the back seat, before rushing to the drivers seat and turning on the engine. "Keep those eyes open!" You barely hear anything he's saying, your whole world feels like it's closing in on you. "Please, don't die on me" Rick says to himself, fingers tapping against the stearing wheel. Those are the last words you hear as you fade into the darkness.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #twd rick #the walking dead #angst #the walking dead angst #rick grimes angst #rick grimes fanfiction #ricky dicky doo da grimes #reader insert #y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #gn reader #how many hashtags is too many? #this man is gonna be the death of me #twd #twd x reader #glenn rhee #fluff if you squint

[sunlightmurdock]

For apocalypse dbf!jake, do you have any ideas for Jake trying to train you and it gets a little heated?

Before the apocalypse, Jake was always so cool with you — even when your dad was flying off the handle about something, you could always trust Jake to be calmer and more level-headed about it. It’s one of the things that you loved about him back then.

He’s like that now, but with the smaller stuff.

The deeper into this shit the two of you get, the more that Jake struggles with the realisation that he can’t stick by your side twenty-four seven. He’s no used to you exhausted, but he hates the thought of being asleep and not watching over you.

You’re the one begging him to train you. He’s more than happy to give you knife and hand to hand training. He found you a pretty light machete that can do some serious damage. But he’s a pro with all kinds of guns, and you just want a fraction of the skill he has. For safety.

By the time the world fell, Jake had been a pretty decorated Vice-Admiral with a very impressive resumé. He’s used to barking orders and laying down the law. But not with you, he doesn’t know how to be tough with you. Well, he thinks he doesn’t.

One day, there’s a call that’s just too close. He almost loses you and after that, something changes like a switch flips in him. Dawn the next morning, he’s hauling you out to a clearing in the woods. He’s not an asshole, he starts you off easy with a stationary target. A dead tree, with a red circle marked on it about chest height.

He stands behind you, brings your arms up and adjusts your fingers around the pistol. His chest pressed to your back and his arms caging you in, his voice is low as it grazes your earlobe. “Focus, alright? — Breathe in, hold it.”

He waits to hear your breathing pause.

“Alright, when you let it go, your going to squeeze the trigger, firm. Commit to it.”

You exhale and squeeze, the shot rings out. Jake grits his teeth.

“Did you just close your fucking eyes?”

He doesn’t give you room for error. Aim comes with time but technique? — He’ll be damned if you don’t nail that in a day. Shoulders squared, feet planted, breathing steady. Eyes. Fucking. Open.

Stationary target practice doesn’t last long. Once you manage three square shots within the circle, he’s moving on. The second task is a moving target — this was easier to simulate in the military. Not that his job was really handguns. Out here, it’s a thick log, tied to a rope and pushed hard.

“Focus!”

“I am!”

“If you were focusing, you would have hit it by now!” He barks back, stopping the log, examining it. Not so much as a fucking splinter. You stare at him as he storms over to you and grabs your face. “These things aren’t going to fucking hold still. You get that? — Scared as you are, tired as you are— whatever — They will keep coming until they get you. You get that? — You get this right or you die!”

“I’m trying!” You bite back at him.

“Not good enough!” He snaps back.

By the time you get back to his truck, you’re beyond furious and you haven’t spoken a word to him in twenty minutes. He’s just as pissed off at you. About half a mile into your journey home, Jake speaks for the first time.

“You’re the one who asked me to show you.” He mutters bitterly, staring ahead of him at the empty stretch of road.

“Yeah, well you didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” You answer him.

“I’d rather be an asshole than have to bury you. Now drop the attitude.”

“Attitude my ass. Make me.” You bite back.

#apocalypse dbf!jake #dbf!jake #dads best friend jake #jake seresin #jake hangman Seresin #jake Seresin x reader #jake Seresin x you #apocalypse au

[holylulusworld]

Snap of fingers (1)

Summary: You only tried to help...

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: language, creature reader, mentions of death of a vampire

A/N: Phew...I finally dared to open my old folder filled with unwritten requests to write some of them. This one took like forever. Sorry.

Part 1/?

“So, get this,” Sam lifts his gaze from his laptop to tell his brother what he found. “Castiel said the deaths could’ve been caused by an ancient creature. One no one knows anything about.”

“Very…interesting,” Dean turns his attention back toward the food in front of him. “What a way to spend our day off. Research and ted talk about ancient creatures.”

“An undiscovered one, Dean,” the younger hunter tuts. “Imagine, we are the ones finding a creature no one saw before. We could name it too!”

“We could…name it,” that picked Dean’s interest. “What can it do? Does that thing have powers?”

“Castiel said, that the werewolf and the ghoul just stopped breathing…I mean,” Sam shrugs. “I can’t describe it. It seemed like they aged within seconds and died of heart failure.”

“Odd-“ Dean buries his fork into the food. “Maybe it’s a life-stealer or a breath-taker,” he grins. “No! It’s a heartbreaker!”

“Can you just not,” his younger brother mutters. “There is a monster stealing life or something out there. What if it decides to go after people too?”

“We will kill it,” Dean slurps his noodles to rile his brother up. He eats noisily, grinning as Sam makes a face. “Just let me eat my food first.”

“Hmm…what do we have here,” you watch two tall men, one with cute bowlegs, walk toward the building you just checked out. “Oh no. There is a monster inside, guys.”

Debating to follow and warn the men, or just use your powers you watch them enter the building.

“No, I can’t do it again. I had to take the werewolf and ghoul down as they wanted to kill me, but that vampire didn’t try to harm me.”

You harrumph.

If you don’t follow these innocent men, they are going to get sucked dry. On the other hand, they will get scared of you.

“Just a little peak. Maybe they don’t run into the vampire.”

Hurriedly making your way toward the building you try to remain calm. If the vampire attacks you, it will be the first time that you reveal your powers in front of people.

“Goodnight, and thank you for the fun while it lasted,” one of the men grins as the vampire loses his head. “That was…easy.”

You gasp as the bowlegged man cleans his machete with a bandana. “Dean,” the other man says, “we should get rid of the body and go back to the bunker.”

“Sammy, let me have my fun.”

“Bunker—” you wonder aloud as the men pick the vampire’s body up. One of them holds the vampire’s ankles while the other one grabs the dead creature by its arms. “They are strong and are living at a bunker. Uh—and they got weapons too! They are hunters!”

“Sam.”

The body drops to the ground, and you are crowded by the two hunters seconds after you revealed you are hiding in the dark.

“Another one?” the taller man looks you up and down while the other one aims his machete toward your head. “A shame they got you, sweetheart. You’re a cute one.”

“HEY! I’m not a vampire,” you dodge Dean’s attack, screaming as the machete hits the wall behind you. “Watch it, hunter. You can’t just walk around and attack innocent bystanders! I came to warn you!”

“Warn us,” Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Wait a second.”

“She’s a vamp!”

“Show us your teeth.”

“Fine,” you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. “See, I’m not a vamp and I see a dentist too if I find the time.”

“I don’t trust her, Sammy,” Dean dips his head to watch you step closer to eye the hunters with curiosity. “What do you want?”

“I never saw a hunter before,” you get a little braver and touch Dean’s chest. “Do all of you wear flannel? Is this magical? Maybe like armor.”

“It’s just warm and comfortable,” the hunter grumbles and slaps your hand away. “Don’t touch me. What are you doing here? Who are you?”

“I checked the building before you did,” you shrug. “I was looking for a place to sleep. Sadly, the abandoned building was already occupied by that vampire. Right when I wanted to go back to my car, I saw you walk toward the building.”

“A girl sleeping all alone at an abandoned building,” Dean furrows his brows. “Sounds fishy to me, Sammy. What do you think?”

Sam is rather curious. He looks you up and down until he sees a pendant dangle from your neck.

“Where did you get this?” He points at the necklace your grandmother left you, and the pendant in shape of an hour glass.

“My grandmother gave it to me before she died,” you touch the pendant, and it starts to turn black. “It’s special.”

“I saw this before, Dean,” Sam whispers now. “Do you remember the creature I was talking about?”

“Hmm…vague. I got wasted that night,” the hunter sighs dreamily. “Good times…”

“It’s her.”

Dean immediately stands a little straighter. He grits his teeth before jumping at you to tackle you to the ground.

“Hey! No touching!” you fight and squeak. “No! Don’t touch the pendant.”

You push Dean off you and crawl away. “Stay here, monster.”

“I’m not a monster,” you grumble. “I never hurt anyone.”

“I bet the werewolf and ghoul have a different opinion,” Dean grunts while trying to get a hold of you. “Stop wiggling. Jesus Sammy, help me.”

“That werewolf tried to feel me up, and the ghoul wanted to eat me,” you sass back while wiggling in Dean’s grip. He has his arms wrapped around your upper body and one leg hooked around legs to keep you immobile. “I stopped them to save my life. It’s called self-defense.”

“She’s not wrong, Dean,” Sam interjects. “Castiel said no people got killed that way. Only the werewolf and ghoul. Leave her be.”

“I don’t trust her! She just killed them!”

“I didn’t want to,” you mutter. “They left me no choice.”

“Dean.”

“Sammy, you can’t trust her.”

“I do not trust her, but we don’t have time for this. We should get rid of the body and get out of here,” Sam says. “Let Castiel check on her.”

“We won’t take that thing with us!” Dean protests but releases you. “What if she kills us?”

“I’m still here, you know,” huffing you cross your arms over your chest. “If you want to get rid of the dead vampire go ahead. I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Wait—what?” Dean cocks his head. “What do you mean with you are going to wait outside? Hey, I’m talking to you.” He grunts as you walk toward the exit. “Breath-taker, wait.”

“That’s not my name,” you coo while walking out of the building. “See ya, hunter boy…”

“She’s leaning against my car, Sammy! And she got bags! BAGS!” Dean complains loudly as the hunters make their way toward Dean’s car. “Hey, get off my car! No one touches my BABY!”

“Baby?” you frown. “You’ve got a baby in your car? Sir, you shouldn’t leave a baby alone in a car while going on a hunt! Bad things could happen!”

“I don’t have a baby! You are leaning against my Baby!”

“Your b—what?” turning around you look at the black Impala. “Oh, you are calling your car Baby, I get it now.”

“Sonofabitch! I swear if you scratched my car I’ll end you. I don’t care what kind of monster you are.”

“I’m not a monster,” you snap at Dean. “I’m…uh—I don’t know. My grandmother called my abilities one of the lost powers. I never got to know what I am.” You sigh deeply as the hunters are staring at you. “What? I’m half-human, that much I know. Granny said my mom had something going on with a guy named Chronos.”

“C-hronos? Like the fucking god of time?” Dean chokes out. “Like the guy, we killed some years ago?”

“DUDE!” Sam rolls his eyes as Dean stares at you like you grew a second head. “Can you just not tell her we killed her dad like that?”

“I already knew a hunter killed my dad,” you pick your bags up from the ground. “He wasn’t a nice guy. Chronos absorbed the life-force of mortals…”

“Sammy, we can’t let Chrono's daughter run around town. She could wreak havoc,” Dean whispers. “Do you think we should bring her to the dungeon?”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Snap of fingers #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #request fill

[bleedingichorhearts]

May I request more shenanigans about our Hydra boys and our knight?

Maybe this time, the reader is desperately trying to make a shopping list, and the astartes keep suggesting absolutely absurd and unnecessary things.

𝕬 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝕺𝖋 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Yes you may little Void! This is one of the ways I could imagine this going. Also, who taught our boi Hydra how to type?

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You go shopping, not without a knight and a few texts of course.

TW // None?

Planning on making spaghetti tonight, I made my way into the freezer to get some meat out of it when I realized there wasn't any.

Damn it, Hydra.

I sighed, closing the freezer and took a sticky note and pen off the counter next to the fridge. Clicking the pen, I wrote down 'If you need anything I'll be at the store.' on the note before sticking it to the fridge.

Grabbing my wallet from my bag and heading out the front door. I have almost made it into my car before I was stopped by Solor. The 'Mr. No fun" I heard the Asclepius say before and well... he wasn't wrong, most of the time.

"Where you are going, my lady?" He rumbled, walking up to me while I turned around to look at him properly.

"Nowhere apparently." I groaned, knowing that most of the time Solor doesn't like going anywhere. He likes staying in one spot to make sure everything was in its order.

"So, you were going somewhere?" He asked, shifting his weight.

"No, I was going to the moon." I sassed, barely putting my hand on the handle of my car door before I was lifted up into the air and placed on the silver pauldrons of Solors armor.

"That's no way to treat your chivalry." He huffed, placing his gauntlet on my thigh, squeezing it a little.

"My chivalry?" I questioned looking down at his helmet. "What kind of chivalry kidnaps their maiden?"

"Their maiden? No, this one's all mine." He grumbled. Squeezing my thigh a little harder than before. His helmet nuzzling into my thigh too as I smacked his helmet, my hand buzzing with numbness.

"Your maiden? Since-"

His helmet looked up at me and he growled. "Don't make me take you right here and now." The deep tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, bringing a flush to my cheeks. "Now, where are we going?"

"To the store." I mumbled, looking anywhere else but Solor.

-

A buzz came from my pocket while I put a jar of sauce into the cart. Pulling out my phone, I unlocked it seeing a bunch of notification's being sent to my phone.

Asclepius: Are you at the store?

Hydra: You left without me? :(

Levithan: Box?

'Yes I'm at the store. What do you need a box for?' I texted back, pushing the cart forward more.

Levithan: Box.

Hydra: Can I get a machete?

'No, you cannot get a machete.' I responded quickly, then pushed to the next aisle.

Hydra: Awww :(

Asclepius: What do you need a machete for brother?

Levithan: Box

"Yes, I'll get you a box.'

Hydra: Can I get some paint then?

Asclepius: Brother, stop ignoring me.

'No.'

Hydra: ...floaties?

'What could you possibly need floaties for? Do you even know what a floatie is?' I asked in the message. Looking up from my phone for a second to grab a box of brownies.

Levithan: Fabric.

Hydra: No, can I have a croissant lamp?

'What type of fabric? Also no.'

Levithan: Soft. Silky.

Asclepius: May I get a 3-man chess board?

'I have never heard of that, but I can look.'

Hydra: A turtle?

Ascelpius: Oh, and a bean bag chair.

'Didn't you just steal some turtles?'

Hydra: Meat?

'I'm getting some for dinner, and DON'T EAT IT.' I typed the last words clearly.

Hydra: :(

Asclepius: Beans will go well with tomorrow's dinner.

'How do you know of tomorrow's dinner?' I asked. Wondering if he's been getting into stuff he shouldn't be, grabbing the said can of beans.

Asclepius: It's a perk.

Levithan: Swimsuit.

'You. Want a swimming suit?' Thats a weird one. I can't imagine an Astartes in a swimsuit. Would their suit beneath their armor count?

Levithan: No. You.

'Me?'

Asclepius: I think he means lingerie.

Hydra: :D

Levithan: Yes.

Solor: That's enough.

Looking behind me. I gave Solor a questioning look, his visor staring back at me. My phone buzzing in my hand again as I had a sneaky feeling that Solor was doing more than just staring.

Hydra: Buzz kill.

Solor: Get back to your shopping. I've got things to do.

'Well you get back to your guarding then.' I snapped back in text. Feeling the fiery warmth of his gaze now.

Hydra: oooOooo

Another, quick notification slid down the top of the phone screen. A personal message from Solor.

Solor: 'You will not be returning home safely.'

Turning back to Solor behind me, I flipped him off. Watching as his gauntlet tightened and loosened. Another buzz coming from my phone as I looked back at it, reading his new message.

Solor: 'You will be not returning at all.'

Ah, worth it.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #x reader #yandere #yandere space marine #fanfic #fanfiction #oc: asclepius #oc: hydra #oc: leviathan #alpha legion #oc: solor #gray knight #oneshot #adeptus astartes #astartes x reader #space marine #space marine x reader #ask

[chaostudee]

the blue ; jj maybank

pairing : female reader x jj maybank summary : stuck on island was bound to drive you insane but having him close to you wasn't so bad. warnings : none? words : 1.5k a/n: back in my writing era ig? this is so shot I want to cry

you have been stuck on this island for two weeks. you scratch another line onto the rock and sigh to myself. two weeks ago you were chasing teasure and now here you were stranded on a deserted island. it's funny how life can change so suddenly.

"yess wooo" screams kiara as jj secures the flag on the top on the palm tree. you smile up at him as he screams out a cry in celebration. this island was now christened poguelandia.

once he got down to the ground you made your way over to him. kie had taken charge during your time on the island and today she had decided that you and jj would go find food and supplies e.g coconuts and berries.

truthfully you would've much rathered stayed with sarah and weave palm trees.

"c'mon y/n" jj says gesturing to follow him as he takes a machete and swings it over his back.

you sigh and follow him but its hard to keep up as your feet sink into the sand as you walk. you hated the sand.

"bye kie". jj waves to her before walking off. you can't help but notice kie's smirk at jj's words.

you chase after jj. "so you and kie then?". jj laughs and when noticing your expression realized you were being serious.

"what no?!, me and kie? Are you being serious?".

you raise your hands in defeat. he didn't know that he would get this defensive. maybe there was nothing going on there. well what did you care.

holding out a hand for you to take jj pulled you over a rock sticking out in the ground. his hand in yours made you feel warm. it was a nice feeling but one you chose to ignore. you pulled your hand away fast.

the trek through the jungle was silent. you didn't mind the silence that much. it was a comfortable silence.

"wait up can we stop for a sec". you begin to slow down slightly out of breath. a near tree was your support as you tried to regain your steady breathing.

out of the corner of your eye you saw jj approach you. he didn't say a word but his eyes said more. you looked up at him to find that he was already looking back at you.

"what are you looking at?" you ask slightly annoyed.

"you" he admits.

you look up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"you look good today".

you chuckle to yourself.

"yeah my greasy hair and sweat covered clothes would to be blame".

jj puts his hands in his pockets and mives his attention to his shoes. "you still look good".

you pause. "thanks.....".

jj nods and smiles.

the waves crashing against the rocks and birds chirping in the distance were the sounds that met your ears.

jj spoke again. "do you ever think about going home?" he asks softly.

you have been a kook all your until you met kiara who introduced you to the pogues. you haven't looked back ever since.

you and jj are alike in many ways. one in having abusive parents. ever since you were little your father had taken advantage of you and your mother. it wasn't until you grew up that you realized how bad it was.

you thought about your mother constantly but you had no desire to go back to the obx.

"not a chance".

jj clears his through and looks at you solemnly. "what about your mum would you go back for her".

you swallow so you don't start bawling in front of him. "you know i would".

"she loves you so much y/n i hope you know that".

you try to smile back at the golden boy but a stray tear falls down your cheek. he always knew the right words to say.

jj kneels down to your height where you are sitting on a large rock.

"hey hey" he whispers taking your hand trying to calm you down. it took seconds for you to break down.

he soothinly rubbed his thumb across your palm. his touch grounded you. the tears were still falling but you felt at peace.

jj wipes a tear from your cheek. you smile at him when he does so. his finger lingers for a moment longer than it should and falters further down your face.

your heart begins to race. you pull his hand away. "thank you" you mutter.

his expression has changed. one of confusion.

"anytime".

:::

"y/n truth or dare?" cleo asks as the woven hat is placed on your heart.

you hesitate for a moment. "dare....?"

"oh girl that was a mistake" cleo says with a michevious grin which makes you regret your decision.

jj sits across from you in the circle. this isn't the first time he has looked over at you. all day you had been swimming around his mind. he couldn't stop thinking about you. he didn't want to. he just couldn't figure out why.

cleo whispers to sarah and then to kiara who are contemplating your dare. pope and john b are completely clueless but when you look over to jj he looks.....nervous?

"i dare you to make out with jj".

you gasp. at first you thought they were messing with you but jj's face told you that he was waiting a response.

okay maybe kissing jj wouldn't be so bad. but you didn't want to do it here not like this.

"um.....sorry jayj but i ain't making out with you....." you trail off your cheeks turning red. hopefully he didn't take that in the wrong way.

pope and john b enunciate how jj was feeling inside. "ooof y/n that was harsh".

even the girls seemed confused. you shrugged awkwardly not willing to give them an explanation.

instead you decided to leave the group anf head down to the sea. nobody stopped you.

the wind brushed your hair away from your face and you couldn't help but smile to yourself at the image of the moon reflecting onto the sea.

a perfect mirroring image.

::

"you bitch all you care about is yourself!" your father screams just as his hand collided with your mothers face.

you shuddered at the sound from your position at the top of the stairs. all you wanted to do was rip your mother out of the grasp of your father but something rooted you to the spot.

another slap came followed by a cry. the next thing you heard was silence. then footsteps....nearing the stairs. you jumped up in realization. there your father stood with his eyes sparkling with a grin on his face.

the next thing you knew he hand you held against the wall his hand raised. you closed your eyes and braced for impact.

you woke up, your chest heaving. you were sobbing uncontrollably. all the memories came flooding back that you had put in the past.

"y/n?" . you wiped a stray tear from your eye before sitting up. jj had heard the crying almost immediately. he is a light sleeper. when he noticed it was you he wanted nothing more than to wake your from the torments in your head. instead he held your hand and waited.

you look down to find his hand in yours. you can't help but feel warm inside.

"are you okay?" he asks.

"okay that was a stupid question" jj admits when he notices no change in your demeanour.

part of you wanted to laugh but you were still out of it. you could still feel his breath fanning across your face, the sound of the slap and the beat of your heart in your chest.

in not getting a response jj takes that as a nudge that he should depart. he slips his hand from yours and starts to get up but you pull him back.

"stay" you whisper.

that one word said so much. jj hesitates.

"please".

how could he say no to that?

you pat the ground next to you instructing him to lie down next to you. he does just that.

you lie there in silence for a moment.

you move closer to his chest and he doesn't object especially when you lay your head to rest beneath his chin. his heart was beating fast and it prided you to know that you did that.

"thank you".

"for what?" he asks.

"for being you".

#jj #jj x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #outerbanks jj #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank series #jj obx #jj maybank x you