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honestlyfrance · 3 years

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SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more!

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

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#onlysambucky #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #france: fic rec #fic rec #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

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flusteredloser · 3 years

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subzero - beverly marsh x fem!reader

it fandom week: huddling for warmth

content warnings: mentions of intoxication, smoking, swearing, fire, harmless threats, inhaler abuse, enemies to lovers, also i’m making bev tall bc i love tall gals word count: 3k

at the ripe age of ten years old, you knew you wanted to become a mother. the appeal of bouncing children in your lap, tucking them into bed, and the empowering feeling of calming tantrums down was something you naively believed was your destiny. now, ten-year-old you was never wrong, you knew that. but what you didn’t expect was for your dream to come true at eighteen, stuck mothering six drunken teenage sons during a hailstorm’s power outage.

“edward. kaspbrak. i swear to god, if you do not go to sleep right now i will knock you out with your own inhaler.”

eddie groans at your words, still teeter-tottering towards the mattress. richie was already in bed, practically dead for a past half-hour.

thankfully, he didn’t wake up from his comatose state when eddie gracefully slammed headfirst into the bed. you held your breath as the bed shook under eddie’s weight. drunken eddie was already a nightmare, what more, an even worse nightmare when catalysed with richie’s antics. mike was slightly more useful. after throwing up in almost every sink in the house, he helped carry a very tipsy ben up the stairs and they were now both unconscious down the hall. bill wasn't exactly a disturbance, but he was incredibly determined to show us that he could play the piano right now if asked, that his skills were only heightened after dark. (the fact that bill had never touched a piano in his life, or that bev's apartment didn't even have a piano wasn't stopping him). bev was taking care of them in the other room, and based on the muffled conversation, was still trying to coax bill to sleep. you and bev being the losers’ designated sober pair for tonight was the worst idea that had ever occurred to anyone. ever. the eight of you agreed. if you needed something done, you’d never leave the two of you to do it together. but stan had explained that the rotation required the two of you to pair up tonight, no matter what. you didn’t quite understand the necessity of it but in all honesty, you’d rather put up with bev’s clownery than upset stan further. speaking of, you glance at the lump on the floor, peacefully swaddled and engulfed in the massive duvet. you should probably check on stan’s breathing later.

now, though, you still had one child left.

hearing the sound of an air pump go off from the bed, you walk back to eddie.

“but i’m so cold and i’m not even tired,” said eddie, his inhaler still jammed in his mouth.

“eddie, the power will be back in no time, and if you keep pumping that shit in your mouth, you’re never going to feel tired,” you sigh, taking the aspirator away.

“no, but seriously.” eddie continues, his eyes filled with sleep-deprived mania. “i swear, i’m like wide awake, i don’t even need sleep right now, it’s technically the morning and nO WHAT THE HELL-”

clutching the pump in your hand, you watch the white vapour shoot against eddie’s face. nothing but eddie’s exasperated coughing filled the room.

“i told you, i’m not afraid to use this.”

“i thought...you said...you were going to...knock me out with it,” eddie questioned between coughs.

you narrow your eyes at him, “you keep this up and i will knock you with it.”

“wow, you really are gonna make a great mother someday.” you let out a deep groan, turning to see where the new voice came from. leaning against the doorframe with a lit cigarette between her fingers was bev in all her smug glory.

“you know, after dealing with kaspbrak tonight, he makes you look like an angel,” you roll your eyes.

“hey!” you hear a muffled voice from under the blanket.

“go to sleep, pretty boy,” bev chuckles, some smoke escaping with her laugh, “i know it’s hard after seeing her troll face but you have to try.”

you rolled your eyes again at the two giggles in the room, shuffling around the bed, carefully stepping around stan’s body. you continue to walk past bev and into the hall.

the house was silent. no one lived here anymore but bev since you guys graduated, and since mr. marsh stopped residing here, the apartment had an almost peaceful quality.

walking past the guest room, you grin at the sight of mike, ben, and bill entwined together on the floor. oh, how much tamer this group would’ve been compared to the menaces next door.

you snatch your backpack from the living room sofa and dug through the pockets anxiously. searching against the walls of your bag and still finding nothing, you began to feel more and more nervous. “fucking hell, where is it,” you whisper. at this rate, you weren’t sure if the thumping in your ears was from the sound of sharp hail hitting the windows or your heart beating in your throat. you stand up in a deeper panic, aggressively patting your pockets up and down.

“you know, as entertaining as this is to watch, i almost feel bad.”

“bev..." you sigh. "i am not in the mood."

“why? too busy looking for your pack of camels?” you hear the sound of a familiar cardboard flap opening, “personally, i’m more of a marlboro girl but i mean, these work too.”

you spin around and storm up to bev, snatching the lit cigarette from her lips. “that’s mine?”

she smirks, “you left your backpack open, it was practically an invitation.”

“an invitation for you to go through my shit?” you hissed, dangling the ignited end near her face.

she snatched her cig back and mockingly dangling it back near your face, “yeah, a formal invitation for me to smoke off this monstrosity of a temperature. what do you want, an apology too? i can write you one asap, let me find bill’s notebook-”

taking the cig back once more, you snap. "you’re such an ass, bev.”

she grins, following closely behind you. she could feel the heat radiating off of your body, and she secretly hoped you’d accidentally stop in your tracks so she could run into you. in the name of transferring body heat and what not. shaking off these thoughts that were hijacking her brain, she makes a kissy sound, “c’mon, you know you love it.”

“mmhm sure, bev. because i’m really into girls stealing my shit.”

pinching the flame from the cig and dumping it in the tray, she leads the both of you into the supply closet. she chuckles as she leans against the doorway, leaving you feeling trapped in the tight room. you knew she was laughing because you insisted on going in first and now that you were the one having to get the stuff, but you didn’t quite register that the things you needed was on the top shelf. up high stood a high stack of blankets. and they looked like they could singlehandedly cure the subzero temperature.

clearly, you must have been looking up at the blankets for a moment too long because bev gave up and leaned forwards to grab the stack. the sensation of her flushed against your back was enough to make you dizzy, not to mention how absolutely warm she was. and of course... it was bev.

bev. the girl who you rolled your eyes at every day, the girl who taunts you at any given minute, the girl you would, and had, risked your life for. you guys never talk about neibolt, but sometimes you catch yourself thinking of what could have happened if it went south. if you hadn’t grabbed her in time, and if you didn’t switch places just before pennywise launched at you... absentmindedly tracing the scar down your stomach, you think of the absolute lack of regret you feel to this day. you always had this joke that you wanted to kill her, but how much of that was true?

“darling, did the cold already go and rot your brain?” bev faux-pouts, “not that there was much to begin with, but i’m still worried.” the stack of blankets was now under her arms with one stretched out as she began to wrap it around herself.

never mind. sometimes you did want to kill her.

by habit, you went on your tip toes in order to get to bev’s face, but she was already crouched a couple inches from your face. trying to keep your racing heart under wraps, you choke out a semi-convincing “don’t make me murder you, beverly.”

she grins back your serious face. "aww no, i couldn’t let you do that. the knives and other weapons are also stored up there.” she teases, slinging her arm around your shoulder and dragging you to deliver the blankets to the boys.

"oh, fuck off." you shove bev's arm off of you and walked back into richie, eddie, and stan's room. true to your word, you kneeled down to the floor and gently rolled stan’s head towards you. placing your two fingers against his pulse point, you giggle to yourself at the absurd action. if it wasn’t already obvious that he was indeed alive, he groans under you, but you shush him in time. lightly stroking his curls, you whisper. "i’m just checking up on you, stan,” placing the second blanket onto him. he groaned back.

quietly tip-toeing towards the bed, you tossed the other blanket over richie and eddie. “i swear, these guys would be dead already without us.” you laugh to yourself.

a dim light flickers from the living room and casts a light across the hall. you shut the door behind you as you leave, going into the living room to see bev on the sofa, engulfed in her own large fleece blanket. the only thing peeking out was her face and hands as her she alternated flickering her lighter's warmth on her fingers.

without thinking, you plop by her on the sofa. “whatcha doing there, you pyro?”

“it’s getting so fucking cold,” bev half-heartedly jokes. you can see her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, but her voice was so contradictingly soft it made your heart melt.

you extended your open hand to her and she stared at it. “blood oath part two? promise to never be sober again during a powercut?”

“i wish, and shut up. don’t play dumb with me, beverly.”

you notice the slightest tinge in her cheeks as she places her hand along with her lighter in yours. you immediately recoil at her freezing fingertips and the lighter clatters to the ground. bev rolls her eyes and shifts away, “first you want to hold my hand, secondly you’re acting like i have fucking HIV.”

“firstly, smartass, i’d still hold your hand if you had HIV-”

“aww-”

“because it’s a blood-borne pathogen so unless you bleed or shit or lactate on my hand, i’m safe.”

bev’s face scrunches up. “how romantic.”

“now shut it and give me your hand already.” you say, placing your palm out for her again.

now bev is the one rolling her eyes at you for a change. she gives you her hand, much slower this time though, careful not to have you pull away again. not having you pull away? why was this something she was considering?

immediately, bev felt the heat from your skin radiate against hers’, instantly igniting her skin in goosebumps. she instinctively gave you her other hand and you take with a soft smile.

“now...why the hell are you built like a goddamn radiator.” bev grumbled, rubbing her hands together under yours.

“well, i don’t see you complaining, do i?” you raise your eyebrows.

“i’m not mad...it’s just that it’s not like you need it,” bev says between chuckles, “you’re like five feet tall. not exactly a lot of surface area to heat up.”

“you’re such a dick, bev. you’re losing your hand-holding privileges,” you side-eye, pulling your warm fingers away.

she gasped, “oh, don’t you dare.”

“yes, i do. it’s not like i’m dying to feel your freezing hands on me, bev.” you desperately try to make the statement sound as sarcastic as you can, but it ends up coming out much shakier than expected.

even in the dark, you can see the glint of bev’s mischievous grin. “oh really? you don’t want to feel my freezing hands?” “is that a trick question?” you sigh exasperatedly, “because if you as much as-”

suddenly, you feel bev’s ice-cold fingers press against the skin on your ribcage and you immediately squeal. you clamp your hand over your mouth at the scare, you try and contain the others sounds that escape you as she further presses her freezing hands against your warm skin. scrambling away from her grasp, you slap the back of her head.

“you stop that right now or i will leave you on your own porch to freeze,” you threaten through gritted teeth.

“mmhm, like you would.” she teases, continuing to press the pads of her still-cold fingertips into your stomach.

you felt your heart rate rise significantly, to the point that you were sure that your unknown warmness was actually due to bev making the blood pump 10x more than normal. every braincell swimming inside your head was on the brink of short-circuiting at the feeling of bev’s hands dancing along the edge of your bra. what the hell is she thinking?

after a couple more rounds of her threatening to freeze your midriff and you threatening to crack open a window, you both surrender and allow her keep her hands clasped between yours, resting atop your chest.

“are you not getting any warmer?” you groan, forcing yourself to snap out of your own feelings.

“hey, you’re the hot-pack here. do you think i’m feeling any warmer?” she goes back to press her freezing palms against your stomach.

“no, no, no, do not do that again.”

bev sighs, “then what the hell am i supposed to do?” she sits upright and tightens the blanket around her head. shifting away from you, she shivers her way back into the other end of the sofa. “i’m dressed in triple the layers you are, moved around way more than you have, i’m even wearing this gigantic fleece eyesore-”

“oh for fuck’s sake just come back here.” you roll your eyes.

bev moves about an inch closer.

you feel your heart constrict in your chest and you let yourself say it before you could think it any further, “i said, come here.” you lift one of your arms and gesture for her to come closer. scooting your body near to the end of the sofa, it was clear that the space you made was so she could easily crawl in next to you.

“are- are you... you want me to-”

you’re sure your whole face has gone red. bev she already can’t stand you so why not just make it even more awkward, huh? you bit your tongue gently, calming yourself down. if bev didn’t know that you offered to cuddle with her just because you could, then that was her fault for being so daft. you sigh, resuming back into your deadpan state. “yeah, i can’t listen to another minute of your whinging.”

“no, i heard you, i just-” she stammers, looking equally red herself. you feel a huge tiny sense of pride as you realised you’ve rendered bev speechless. beverly marsh. speechless.

“what are you waiting for?” you tease, “a formal invitation?”

having the upper hand for once was refreshing, if not thrilling. being the one to tease her and watch her become flustered was something you wish could happen more often.

bev’s face breaks out in the softest smile you’ve ever seen. she slowly makes her way over to you, shifting her body close to yours without touching you yet. “is that too much to ask for? a formal invitation?” you let out an unexpected genuine laugh at her silliness and bev giggles in unison. this was different than your default laughter made of semi-amusement and sarcasm. she rests her weight against you, her cheek gently pressing into your collarbone. her fingertips resume their spot against the flushed skin of your stomach and your own cheeks turn red again. there wasn’t a functional reason for her to do that anymore.

“stop that before i regret this, bev.”

“there’s no way in hell you regret this.” she grins, followed by the faintest whisper of an “i sure don’t.”

you were about to reply and perhaps mention how you’d be okay with her falling asleep in your arms, that you could tolerate such juvenile behaviour. you know, in the name of public health and safety, but bev beats you to it.

“just let me warm up here for ten minutes, alright. then you can let go and i’ll sleep on my side right after,” she rushes out.

that wasn’t how you thought it was going to know. your heart sinks slightly at her words but you try not to take it personally. what else could you do? it was almost like a wake-up call, reminding the both of you that this wasn’t normal for you and bev.

after a minute or so, you found yourself absentmindedly weaving your fingers through bev’s auburn hair, gently combing it with your hands like you did earlier with stan. “you have such soft hair,” you whisper against her hair.

you hear her mumble against the blanket indistinguishably and you find yourself closing your eyes at the vibrations of her voice against you. if only bev wanted to stay here like this and this feeling between the two of you could last more than the next ten minutes. you let your eyelids drift down momentarily, and you smile at the thought.

just a couple minutes later, your mind jolts back awake, and your heart sinks at the thought of having to wake her up so she could move to her side of the sofa and sleep. you reach over to feel the ends of her hair between your fingers again, grounding yourself to this feeling one last time before bev had to wake up. once you peel your eyes open however, you immediately shut them against the bright light shining at you. was richie planning on abducting y’all in the middle of the night again? gently prying your eyes open for the second time, you notice the light is shining from the window. you sigh in relief.

wait. the window?

your eyes shoot open fully. the hail had stopped. and it’s day time.

snapping your head down to bev, you take in her figure still fit snugly into your side. her free arm rests across your chest, her legs were entwined with yours. ...and her electric blue eyes stare right into you. your heart instantly jumps into your throat as you scramble for excuses, fuck, anything that would keep you from explaining yourself.

instead, she shifts her body upwards so she’s fit even tighter against your side, placing her face into the crook of your neck. her lips were right at your pulse point, sending your mind spiralling at the thought that she could probably feel how fast your heart was beating right now. her lips move against your skin, saying something barely above a whisper.

“you tell anyone about this and i’ll fucking end you.”

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #got some fluff got some angst #casual reminder that daniela is capable of being just as cruel as cassandra #just normally a different kind

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thekillingjoke-haha · 3 years

Text

Thank God It’s Friday

Summary: Three days on repeat to save their sister before it's too late, but they need to realize sooner or later you can't save everybody.

Warning: Suicide(mentioned and done),accidentally murder, tw, blood, gore,spelling mistakes

Tagged: @spnquotebingo @nooneno @ampal98 @fandom-fanfiction-reblog

Part 2 of What's Worse Then Tuesday? Plz read pt.1

𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖑𝖞

Her skin was pale scars littered her body, but the cause for the lack of completion were the vertical cuts from her wrist to the nook of her elbow one arm was over the edge of the tub while the other turned the cold water a red dark enough the only thing seen was a outline of her body. His scream was earth shattering as if he has never seen her die before, but he doesn't get another chance like before he can't beg the trickster to be merciful and allow her to live to go back exactly to the Wednesday before save them both. Sam would give anything to go back to Tuesday, because this was so much worse.

𝕹𝖔𝖜

Dean rushed into the room not long after the sight made him sick to his stomach, but he pushed through and walked fully into the bathroom as he wrapped her in a towel and carried her to the bed laying her down. For the first time in a long time he kneeled on the side of the bed and prayed to anything that would listen to his plea. "Give us a do over. Sammy had his chance to save me now let us...together save her." He had his eyes screwed shut his breath uneven. "Please Trickster? God? Fucking Satan! We need more time!" The flap of wings went unnoticed as a familiar voice spoke in the silent room.

"I'm truly flattered you said me before God and the Devil. Warms my heart." The Winchester’s heads snapped up at the man laying on the bed opposite of Dean a sucker in his mouth and a arm propping up his head. "You son of a bitch! You tricked me!" Sam shouted as he went to hit the trickster when he got flung back. "I did not trick you into anything." The shorter man denied as he opened up a new lollipop replacing the stick in his mouth. "You did everything willingly. I told you your sister wouldn't be there she wasn't included in your back to the future snafu." Sam froze as he thought back trying to recall what he said while his older brother looked at him with shock. "You did what?!" The dirty blonde shot up from his kneeling position. "You traded Y/n's life for me!? You left her to die here like this?!Alone!!!" Dean was fuming while pushing Sam's chest. "No? No! Of course not you were dead not Y/n she was on a hunt away from everything. He told me she was running herself into the grave not that by going back to today time would keep moving forward for her." That's when the tallest Winchester turned to the man laying next to his sisters corpse. "You sent everyone, but her back. Why? I thought she was your favorite!" The supernatural creature sighed while playing with her damp hair. "She is my favorite not even a bump in the road like death can change that, it sure wouldn't bump you morons up a place, but you needed to learn a lesson to a pop quiz that about to come up out of nowhere at any moment to bite you." Gabriel looked at them.

Dean reached over to him and smacked his hand away from her h/c hair. "Don't fucking touch her." He snapped as the trickster raised his hands in surrender. "Can you help us get her back?" Dean was trying to avoid looking at the still body infront of him. "Nope not a chance. Samsquatch got not one, but two chances to save you after I warned him. He asked to get to Wednesday well here we are!! Missing one just like last time." The man stood up popping his joints as he picked up Y/n's personal hunting journal flipping through pages. "That was Sam. You never made a deal with me." His honey gold eyes looked up. "Yes I did. You're alive aren't you?" He gave a chuckle about to skim the tea stained pages again. "The deals involved me, but this is my second day ever seeing you in town and we've never made any deal." The eldest Winchester licked his lips nervously. "Fine! But let's make the rules clearer this time." Gabriel sat the journal down and paced the room grabbing the discarded suicide note. "She wrote this on Friday two days before she died and it took you three days to discover her body." He crumbled the note tossing it over his shoulder before clapping his hands rubbing them together. "So let's even those numbers hm...instead of reliving one day you'll be sent to Friday until you save her before Monday. Two days..two and a half if you're lucky, so you have more time before your heat of the moment. "

Dean hummed. "That doesn't sound so bad." He thought it would be easy two people trying to keep her alive for three days. "There's a hiccup she wasn't here Friday. So you need to rub the two brain cells you both share and find her and keep her not suicidal." Gabe picked at his nails. "And small hint for you guys. She was tracking something while here and it wasn't just me so don't go to her directly because technically neither of you should be there." He smirked as paused in the center of the floor. "So your putting us in another loop until what we give up?!" Sam spoke for the first time in awhile. "No just until you realize everyone can't be saved..." The long hair male stood up looking down at the trickster. "Why? Why can't I have them both why them?" He chocked up a bit his breath wavering. "Because everyone doesn't want to be saved." With that he snapped his fingers.

Friday 7:30 am

"My legs are dangling off the edge!"

Sam shot up as he looked around the room was the Sam as if they never left. "The bottom of the bottle is my only friend!" He heard the radio and someone else. Dean sat at the table drumming his hand. "I think I'll slit my wrist again and I'm gone gone gone gone." Sam looked at him in horror as he shut the radio alarm clock off causing his brother to look at him in relief. "Dude that song hasn't turned off for almost two hours that was like the millionth time it's played I think." Dean got up from the table holding up a newspaper with red marks all over it. "There was three cases in the area with this hotel being in the center of them. Did she ever tell you anything about what she was doing?" The oldest Winchester asked as he handed his brother the paper. Sam thought back to all the voicemails he could have easily opened his phone to listen, but he deleted them all. "She talked about wanting to still hunt, how the trickster was a dead end, and...and that all I can think of." He was a horrible brother she called him just like she did when he was at Stanford just to never receive a reply. History was repeated itself he pushed her way until she gave up getting closer. "The trickster said he wasn't the only creature she was looking for. He didn't say hunt, but looking for that means she might have been trying to find a witch or reaper." Dean rambled as he pointed to each of the cases. The tallest sighed as he ran a hand through his long hair. "She'll kill...k-kill herself on Sunday and we only have today to hunt what brought her here before she shows up and we don't know how she'll react to seeing us." He had a good point Dean was supposedly dead and Sam didn't even acknowledge her as if she was a stranger.

The hunt began they started with the witch two hours from the hotel. Driving down they realized it wasn't just a witch it was a coven how the hell did Y/n track down a coven was beyond them. The women quickly went to attack them, but they were no match to iron blades and bullets. The second oldest of the witches sat before them handcuffed in Iron shackles "Tell us everything you know about Y/n!" Dean demanded as the women chuckled blowing her red hair out of her face. "Shouldn't you know it all you are wearing her brothers skin?" She panted blood on her face as she looked at them just before her head snapped to the side with the fist that flew at her cheekbone. "Tell us why she'd come here clearly you know something." Sam shoved a paper that had Latin writing into her line of sight. "A resurrection spell that requires a lot of unholy ingredients." He stated which made her chuckle. "Oh! That Y/n yeah she called awhile back and told us she needs a spell...we owed her a favor so making some headlines was worth getting it done." The young women shifted her head at the spell books spilt on the floor along with viles and broken jars. "All that work for not. The moment she finds out there's no spell she'll fuck off to who knows where." Dean saw a phone abounded on the ground ringing as he pushed a iron rod to her throat. "You aren't telling her anything. She'll see the ashes of this place thinking it backfired, but till then everything grand." He picked up the phone and placed it on speaker.

"Hey Rosita! Sorry if you're busy mama wasn't answering. I'm heading to town from Big B's place after some rough and tumble,if you know what I mean. I'm stopping by yours after settling; do ya got that special something cooking in a witches brew while cackling evilly?" The boys almost crumbled at her voice as she spoke almost like talking to a old friend. "You know it beautiful. It'll be ready by tomorrow just as planned." They looked at her raising a brow at the witch what was...is their sister involved in? Half a year doesn't make bonds like this. "Thank you so god damn much, Hot stuff! Tell sisters and mom I said hi and ask her about that Huckleberry pie recipe she promised." Tears slipped past the witches face as she silently cried looking at her deceased family strung about. "You got it, bye." "Bye." The call ended as the women hung her head and cried not caring about the iron forcefully digging into her throat. The brothers stepped back from the weeping woman gazing at the massacre. Y/n wouldn't go to a monster for help if she didn't trust them they killed good witches that only did bad to fulfill a favor. "She'll kill you both masked as her brothers or not she knows a monster when she sees em." The redheaded witches cackled Dean pulled himself together and grabbed the spell books and went to leave. "We got to clean the place cops would be hear after all the noise of the fight." The brown eyed brunette nodded as his brother patted his shoulder leaving to baby. Sam slowly walked to the doorway his hands shaking as he ignited the match. "I'm sorry...it will all be fixed by Friday again." Dropping the lit match it created flamed track to the walls over each body consuming the room in the orange blaze. She'll be here tomorrow just got to make it to tomorrow.

The boys sat in the motel waiting watching looking for the moment she pulled in to the dingy motel settling just down the hall. A f/c 69' charger pulled up next to the Impala right at seven a figure silhouetted by the rising sun went to the trunk grabbing two bags before heading towards the front desk humming a song completely disregarding the other muscle car next to it. "Doesn't she recognize baby? She basically grew up in that back seat!" Dean was confused it made no sense. "Dean remember what the trickster said we technically weren't here today so maybe she can't see what wasn't here." Sam suggested as she came towards their hall to go to her room. "So what are we suppose to do just sneak around her to keep her safe like fucking guardian angels!?!" Dean was frustrated, but the sound of the doors lock made them both turn before running around like headless chickens before the door opened.

Saturday 5:30 am

Y/n slipped into the room gently closing the door. It was almost comical how they hid Sam looking around before hiding behind the floor length window curtains while Dean crawled under his bed. She looked around the room before walking towards Dean's bed she flopped onto it much like her older brother did, face first, before turning on her back raising up to sit she held her hands on her head as she tried and control her breathing. "I'm so sorry, De. I should be trying harder to save you. I hate to admit it, but I gave up after awhile nothing that went bump in the night scared me anymore I am brutal just like him and I-I don't like it and I know you wouldn't either." Dean listened intently at her voice he wanted to be right beside her. "I got exactly like this once after Sam left put everything into hunting to feel better, but you were there that time, to keep me and Dad from murdering each other, take me on late night drives to cool off, answer your phone each time I called... now you're gone and so is Sammy." Her breath hicked as she gave a watery chuckle. "It's funny how history lived through or written down can always be repeated I thought after everything it be different. He'd be different, but now I'm here alone without anyone god it's so much worse." The oldest Winchester wanted to hug her and never let go this was her last words to him a apology for nothing she could have prevented. "I'm using some of my old favors. From hunters I helped to monsters I saved this is my last half assed effort to be useful to give Sammy what he needs most and that's you, haha you Jackass, always has been always will be. The Winchester brothers against the world while their not even blood sister followed like a lost puppy." She leaned down further her hand going to the underside of the bed almost hitting Dean in the face grazing his nose with her nails. Her fingers wrapped around something gently pulling it free. It was Dean's colt it had the engravings and everything. "The myth is true they don't clean motel rooms. You owe me twenty buck." Pocketing the gun she stood up and walked back to the door she just came from. "Goodbye, Batsy..." she mumbled something so quietly he wasn't able to hear before she left to her actual room.

The brothers got out of their hiding spots they need to save her they can't fail her again. "Dean I'm warning you know that might not be the last time you hear that speech. We'll try to do this quickly, but we're not sure if this will be a one and done type deal." Sam said closing the bathroom door as Dean sat in next to the spot she was in touching it noticing that wrinkles were across the bed meaning she laid down. "She couldn't see our bags." He looked at the foot of each bed opened. The room looked occupied, but she didn't acknowledge it at all. "We don't have time to worry about it we need to see where she's going today. Clearly from the black magic she wasn't as over with your death as I thought." The tall brunette looked at the Latin books. "So we just wait around to see her decide to pick up a razor? Why don't I just knock on her door say the witchy mumbo-jumbo worked and I'm back." He went to leave the room when a body stopped him. "Clearly since my deal with the trickster went through it didn't work on her end. She might think you're a shifter or something." Sam had a point it took him threatening and begging after almost a year without Dean to get him back. Something must have gone sideways for Y/n and the witch.

Sunday Evening

It was the evening the next day and they were following the h/c haired Winchester around she sat in the same diner that Sam lived a vivid nightmare in. Dean caught a slight twitch in her face, but ignored it thinking nothing of it a man walked to her they talked for awhile and he left shortly after. Y/n tucked a notepad in her leather jacket and left the street became impossible to get through with the Summer crowd of people trying to tour the Mystery Spot. "Damnit we lost her." They couldn't stay like this they didn't even see were she went. Time was ticking it was almost Monday. Walking down the cleared sidewalk eyes watch them as the blindly try to track the mop of h/c hair.

Dean basically dragged Sam to the motel they waited in her room. It wasn't until later she was on her way back, but Sam has already locked and broke the bathroom door they just had to wait to restrain her. The door knob twisted and the fluorescent light of the hall shined in the dark room. She looked awful after they last saw her her skin looked sickly as she groaned like a zombie stepping past the doorframe. In Y/n's note she said she felt it all coming back the pain of a million deaths put her body threw hell. Dean stood up to grab her when his boot made contact with the table leg it made a dull thud, but the peace quickly turned to dark and twisted hide and seek. The oldest brother dived down as a bullets rang out Sam tried to get closer which was a bad idea with her hunter instincts dialed to a thousand she grabbed his arm flinging him over her shoulder into the dinning table breaking it. Dean got up on shaky legs before meeting the heated metal of a gun he just got pistol whipped and knocked out.

Brown eyes opened as he met the bright light of the room. "Why in the ever loving fuck are two leviathans doing in these parts? You missed the memo this is the more magical spells and tricks kinda creature unit, butt-ass fugly is three states over." A snort sounded from Sam's right to see his brother awake and bleeding. "Something up I've seen you two all day, but why do you keep changing skins can't you keep them for at least a week?" She picked up John's journal and flipped through pages. "We aren't leviathans we just need to keep you alive till 12 okay?" The signature Winchester look over came her face as she raised a brow. "What kinda fairytale bullshit is that? Will I turn into a real girly girl at the stock of twelve?" She chuckled pacing infront of them. Sam didn't understand last time a loop happened she believed him now she's so skeptical and trigger happy it reminded him of Dad the man that lived by shot first ask questions later and so thoughtful pasted it on to Dean. "I'm gonna tell you this. I'm gonna kill you then sell your skin because that shit is gold when in the right hands." A knife was brought to Sam's face as she pushed into the side if his face. "NO!" Dean shouted after hearing Sam hissing in pain as he planted his feet on the bed he pushed his chair back making Sam's go forward, but with the force it pushed Y/n backwards and landed her on the ground. The brunettes eyes widen as the scene unfolded.

Y/n fell towards the broken table as she fell on the protruding wood like a pit stakes. Pieces of the splintered wood cut up her arms with chicken scratch the lines beading pearls of red, but that wouldn't kill her the jagged table legs did though. One leg went just above her hip bone and the one parallel to it went through her neck she barley chocked on her blood before her breath faded into gargles. The damaged skin seemed to fade into something worse scars and open wounds of all types appeared like a cloak was removed from the surface. Dean struggled to get out the ties to get to her, but Sam just looked on looking just past her head to see the microwave clock say 11:59 in those neon green numbers. He closed his eyes as Dean yelled and cried this was the first, but not the last.

"My legs are dangling off the edge"

Dean's POV

My eyes snapped open as a gasp of air filled my lungs. Shooting up Sam was still asleep just like when I woke up last time. I kick the covers of going to the bathroom my hands shaking as I cupped the water flinging it in my face. "This was what Sam felt. She believed him she's always believed the craziest most logical things." The thought of Tuesday that they caught the trickster Y/n didn't question Sam bringing a duffle bag to the diner. "Even if I'm technically dead she'll believe in logic with evidence." He held in his hand the necklace she got after her first hunt a bullet pressed flat it was he favorite thing and he took it off her corpse. Only I knew about the full story about it how she killed her first demon.

I walked to the door just like before and tried to open the door. Looking out I saw the room exactly as it was reflected behind me stepping through and that stupid fucking song was still playing I turned around and just saw the same thing. "Please wake up, Sammy." I sat at the table and waited the radio clock repeated itself the words were getting stuck in my head how come only on Friday I can't sleep in, but on the weekend I could maybe it was due to the loop reset and my body woke up before Sam making it permanently that way. Well as long as I'm here. I start to think Sam was making a deal with the trickster on Sunday and she died, but she stayed lifeless in that tub for two full days before Wednesday came. A ring came from my pocket spoking me and a very manly yelp slipped past my lips. The batman theme sounded causing a grin to pull on my lips I answer it, but froze up unable to speak. "Hello? Shit this number must have been reactivated...um well sorry for the bother." With that the call ended before I could utter a single syllable. Pulling the phone away from my ear I look at the call log missed calls everyday from months and none of them had a voicemail attached...she called me knowing I could never answer, but unlike Sam she did it everyday like we always did when we were apart. I licked my lips...as I remembered what I always told her.

"Never mention monsters over the phone unless you know it's only going to be heard by me. So no voicemails about slicing a blood suckered head or digging up a corpse. I'll always call you back to hear ever detail, Robin." Her smile was bright in her hand she held a phone she was leaving going her own way a year after Sammy left. Three numbers were already saved on the device, but if he could have seen it now every letter of that contact list would be occupied with someone who owed her a life debt and didn't want her dead.

Slipping the phone in my pocket as I laid my head on the table starting to drum my fingers to the beat on the wood. At some point the words flowed out of my mouth. "My legs are dangling off the edge. The bottom of the bottle is my only friend. I think I slit my wrist again and I'm gone gone gone gone." My voice seemed to muffle the sound of the bed sheets ruffling. "What the hell man." Shooting up at the noise Sammy looked at me from his bed I can finally leave and start looking. "Finally awake I see. Now get dressed and let's get out of this room before I go mental." I threw the clothes he wore last time at him and grabbed Baby's keys. Going to the door I closed my eyes taking in a deep breath as I twisted the handle. Opening the door I peaked at to see the out side of the motel and the door number across form us. I'd never felt so happy to see the plain depressing walls of a cheap motel.

The while coven was tied up I stood infront of the girl that we questioned before. Everything was in tack this time and not a single drop of blood was shed. "We need to know everything on Y/n Winchester. She's coming to town tomorrow from Big B's place now if you can just tell us everything from what She's coming back to town for and how many she stops she has that would be best." The red headed girl giggled throwing her head back and in seconds the other witches followed. "Why should I tell a monster like you anything about my darling daughter?" My gaze hardened at the older women who I assumed was the mother of all or at least some of the girls in the coven. "She is a Winchester, a hunter that kills monsters like you." I scoffed at them as they giggled again. Sam stood off to the side looking at the books. "A child of this coven is a child of mine and a sister of theirs. We help and protect our own from hell beast like you." I hate to admit that I almost snapped if it wasn't for the phone call. "Right on time answer it!" I hold it up to the mothers face along with a iron rod. "Hello Mama Freya! I wanted you to know I'm heading to town from Big B’s before stopping by. Just wanted the stats on that...special stew?" Sam came closer listening intently. "It's all cooked up almost ready to serve just as discussed my child." I pushed the blade closer the flush on her neck turning red and it looked like it was boiling. "Thank you so much, Mama! Tell sisters I said hi and when I get there I want that Huckleberry pie recipe as promised." The women smiled. "You and your pie obsession, bye hun." A laugh sounded from the other end of the line. "What can I say it runs in my family, bye ma." I creaked a smile or as Sammy so kindly described. "Wipe that doofy grin of your face." I grumbled as I closed the flip phone. "Bitch."

Sam kept his eyes in the book. "A resurrection spell. Is it guaranteed to work or is it not all that creaked up to be?" His gaze panned up at the restrained group of witches. "It's very unprecedented for a human they might come back more monster then man too much unknown about it." Rolling my eyes I snap my fingers. "How about telling us something you do know witchy poo. Y/n clearly has a list of pitstops between wherever she is and in this town. So mind giving us names and addresses." I cock my gun holding it to her head knowing I loaded a iron bullet. "Oh and I'm not asking." It took longer then expected but we got a list. First up was a guy named Leonardo Grayson he wasn't that far out of town, next was the witches themselves so he must be Big B. After them it was someone called Gabriel, then a duo that they didn't know the names just that a man and a women that's as much as they knew.

Sitting in the hotel room I ran a hand in my hair. "She must be at this Grayson's house before she came here so if we head out early tomorrow we'll pass her on the highway and see what he offered her." Sam looked at the map on the table. "Dean you understand we can't go near her this time right. We—we killed her yesterday she was protecting herself like any sane person and we killed her." He rubbed his fingers on his cheek ghosting over where the cut would be. "Sammy we don't know what would have happened if she killed us first. N/n saw us a leviathans and if we died we don't know if we'd get a do over." I placed a hand on his shoulder no matter how pissed I am at him N/n was my main priority and getting out of this alive was all he needed even if she wanted nothing to do with Sam or hell maybe, both of us afterwards. "Don't worry Sammy she's a Winchester through and through she's stubborn as a damn mull." I hit his shoulder before walking over to my bag. We got work to do.

Saturday Morning

The sun barley peaked over the horizon the drive was more then a few hours it was silent on the car, but that was quickly dissolved when the radio crackled. It sounded so muffled and music was in the background of the static. "Never—back—trade—him—Bride—Queen of—" I looked at Sam confused that voice was female I was about to ask what the hell was that when second masculine voice spoke. "Ruler—unstoppable—return—live—die–" The sentences were to broken up to really understand it was Y/n and someone else. "—forget—who—them?" The voice became more clear it was like a old radio. "No—return—without—" That's when a car came zooming by like it owned the road that f/c. "What the hell is going on." I asked Sam looked deep in thought. "Maybe she was talking to someone in the car that's why we heard it on baby's radio and it got clearer the closer the car got to hers." That made some kind of sense, but what were the talking about.

Its late in the evening by the time we get to the address of this B guy a small cabin not super close to town as originally thought it looked abounded but the smoke coming from the chimney said otherwise. We sneak in with guns raised. I went upstairs and Sam stayed down stairs. There's a empty bedroom with both sides of the bed messed up male clothes were thrown around, but there was nothing really except for a slip of paper. Grabbing it I flip it over. "Had a great time last night and this morning. Thanks again for the shades, see ya later handsome." There was a kiss in red lipstick mark and maybe my temper was raising like hell flames. My sweet badass baby sister was in some man's bed last night it was clear no one was here so I rushed down stairs stuffing it in my pocket. Sam stood in the loving from looking at a weird flower. "Sam stop sniffing flowers nothings here." Opening his mother to speak both of us froze as the door swung open. A man possibly Sam's age with tattoos littering his exposed arms that held over his shoulders a dead animal bigger then anything I've seen. "Is that a fucking moose!?" I gasped in shock finally recognizing the animal he snarled throwing the hunt onto the floor like a sake of potatoes. I'm scared shitless and Sam looked paler then a sheet. "What monster has the nerve to come into my home!" His snarls turned into gutted growls as his teeth sharpened and his gray eyes turned gold. We broke into a alpha werewolf's home and we don't have that much silver to take him. "So I think I understand now Big B...Big Bad Wolf." I laughed nervously as he then launched at us both Sammy and I dive in opposite directions as and scrambled to run. Sam booked it out the front door while I went up stairs which was stupid, but Sam has speed on his side he'll out run me easy. It was Dark in the house now after he hit a master switch that turned if the lights of as he ribbed it out the wall.

I'm dead I'm so fucking dead. I would have guessed he went after Sam if he didn't shake the cabin with his angered steps. He can probably smell me, but we've searched this whole house maybe it was too spread out oh god please spread out. "Thought you were so high and mighty coming into my home to what? Kill me?!" I heard doors slam open I was on the window ledge the jump was to steep so I just had to wait. Then I heard a roar so powerful I almost slipped. "WHERE IS IT!?!" I frowned till it clicked I grabbed the note and never put it back. Shit shit shit fuck. The power steps faded and I stupidly let out a sigh of relief. Glass flew into my face and before the sound of the window shuddering could register a clawed hairy hand grabbed my throat pulling me back into the room. He dragged me down the stairs like a ragdoll before lifting me up and growling in my face as he gazed turned towards the open door. "I HAVE YOU'RE LITTLE FRIEND AND IF YOU WANT HIM TO STILL HAVE A BEATING HEART I SUGGEST YOU COME QUICKLY!!!!" He was dead serious as he slowly began to squeeze down on my throat I was close to backing out when a pair of foot steps made me look over their she was again a gun in her hand pointed at me well...again. "Leo put the blood bag down." The werewolf dropped me and I gulped up the air.

"He came for my head the bastard! Why is he still allowed to be alive, Luna?" Y/n walked forward caressing behind his ear and that seemed to calm him down enough to shift him back to his human form. "He wasn't after you. He came for me. Isn't that right, Twilight?" She stepped closer to me using the barrel of her gun to lift my head. "First of all I don't glitter in the light and second of all I'm trying to save you." I said and she almost howled in laughter. "Yeah and attacking my coven and my pup is really saving me. Good job want a gold star, jackass?" My mind froze it so different hearing her say those words these were her people and we've kind of attacked them. "It's not like that Robin we ju—" Her fist cut me off damn that hurt like a bitch. "Don't call me that. It's not yours to use." Hurt filled her e/c eyes before being replaced with anger. "I'm trying to explain. You went back to that damn Mystery spot and remember what happened last time? You and me— um your brother Dean died over and over till you woke up and only he died." I spoke fast and a flicker flashed in her eyes.

Come on N/n you gotta get those gears turning. "So what are trying to say the Trickster got you stuck in a loop and you're hunting me down to save your ass?" Damnit no no so close, but no. "The trickster thecandy eating bastard put us here and each time we wake up we have a new face, we're a new monster." Her brow frowned as her face seemed to be running over the sentence again before it hardened. "Grab him." She demanded and the guy picked me up as she cooked her gun looking around tense. "What the hell I thought we were getting somewhere!" I shouted. Y/n looked at me again with a flame that a well weathered hunter harbored. "You said us and we. Where's the others?" The banister of the stairs got a hole blown into it and splinters of wood flew as the two of them ran upstairs with me thrown over his shoulder like a bag. "DAMNIT DON'T SHOOT!!!" I yelled but it was no use. Y/n split up from us staying in the room while I was in the supply closet with the beast. He pulled knifes from between bathroom and cleaning supplies. He looked down at me. "Stay here." With a huff he ran out and most likely downstairs. I immediately left and went to find Y/n. A fight seemed to breakout on the first floor and guns fired and things being broken. Upstairs was a bust she wasn't there anymore, but the open window kicked my ass in gear. I ran downstairs and saw Sam about to shoot a round of silver at the werewolf when s/c arms wrapped around his neck strangling him.

It was a Rodeo and Sammy fought wildly like a bull to get her off he swung himself around trying to remove her from his back. "Sammy stop!!" I shouted as the shine of silver gleamed in the fires light. In a quick motion the knife was dug into Sam's shoulder. He yelled, but used the arm no longer around him to flip her over her back making content with the cobblestone of the fireplace and he drew his shotgun to fire at what I can only assume he thought was another wolf. Going to fire I grab his arm jerking the barrel up as it went off. It hit the mirror above causing it to rain shards of glass that hurriedly fell to the ground most cut and sliced at Y/n who was just below it. Her arms bleed in familiar places as she shielded her face. It all moved so slow like in all those cheesy action movies Sam cocked the gun again and aimed, her face was still hidden from the attack of glass, the metal shrapnel flew at her chest small pieces packed quite the punch. The hit blew her back into the roaring flames the flannel easily caught a flame her yells were haunting. "Y/N!!!" I yelled and ran to her pulling her free ripping my jacket off I pat her down, but it was too little too late the fire burnt her skin blisters forming on places not charred black her chest caved in from the close range of shotgun blast. S-she's dead a-and we didn’t even make it to Sunday.

Friday Sam POV

“My legs are dangling of the edge”

I sat up Dean sat on the ground his back leaning against the bed as his eyes teared up as he muttered the words of the song before looking at me. "Two days you've been asleep two days." I was shocked at his words. "The sun has been stuck like that for forty-eight hours, Sammy all because of you!!" The guilt in my chest seemed to just settled I shot at N/n and even after Dean called for me to stop I still fired and killed her. "I'm sorry, Dean. I-I didn't mean to." My throat felt like it was swelling as I spoke I've never directly caused any of Y/n's death in the loop like I accidentally did to Dean, but this wasn't a slip of the hand and a axe flying this was multiple rounds of silver. I got up and Dean shook his head and just sat on the bed having already been dressed. "Remember the guy from the Diner that N/n was talking to. We watched everyone who came into town so he was already here so we find him we can question him. He was the last one to talk to her." I said as I pull up my pants and all he could do was nod before walking to the door. This was taking it's toll on Dean watching her die just like we I saw him die, but something uneasy came over me at my thoughts I felt like this only for Dean and not for Y/n. I don't understand she would die seconds after him though seeing him die stuck with me. She should have been on my hip the moment Dean's final breath she could have followed, but I didn't care.

How the fuck can I think like that?! Of course I care about Y/n she's my sister. This isn't me she's my partner in crime, my reading buddy, and I abounded her again. How could I've been so stupid to leave her like we didn't share the same struggle. I forced her to lose all the family she had left because of revenge and she saw no point in staying with nothing to live for. "Sammy? Sam?! Dude I got a hit!" I snapped out of my daze. Looking at Dean, when did we get in baby? "What?" He rolled his eyes as he pointed to the bag in his hand. "While you were in la la land Goldilocks I got food and guess who decided to take a stroll–" He pointed out the windshield at a man with his back to us walking down the street. "Are man of the hour." Looks like we've got work to do.

Kidnapping is against the law, but dammit we need answers. Removing the bag for his head wide blue eyes flickered between us scared he screamed behind the gag as he struggled. We did the monster test and nothing came up so we had to wait for him to wake up. Removing the cloth gag he gasped as before spitting out questions. "What the hell is happening?! W-who are you? Let me go!" Standing in front of him my eyes boring into his what is he. Looking over at Dean he pulls out his gun putting it to his head. Tears rolled down his face as he closed his eyes bowing his head. "Please don't kill me I have a family!!!" He shouted as he tried to move away from the barrel. "Just tell us how you know, Y/n." I said as he opened is eyes that were tinted a slight red. "I-I don't know who tha–" The sound of the gun cocking cut him off. "Bullshit start talking before it gets ugly." Dean demanded and the man shuddered as he seemed to start crying his shoulders quaking with each wet hiccup. I gave Dean a bitch face this guy definitely wasn't the same person. As I went to stand up and take the gun away from him small bubbling laughter replaced the crying.

His shoulders showed his restraint, but a booming laugh that caused both me and Dean to take a step back. I kept my eyes on him avoid Dean's I told you so glance. "She'll never come back to you guys. After all she's to busy in bed with me." A shit eating grin pulled at his lips. Maybe I should have grabbed the gun from Dean. The revolver was pushed in his face and all the guy did was grin leaning into it. "Pull it, Dum-Dum." When he didn't pull the trigger he pushed the gun out of his face. Wait his hands were restrained. With a snap of his fingers the Trickster was standing before us. "You guys can't get enough of me. Sorry not enough for you losechesters well except for the little one of course." I grabbed the gun from Dean this time before he can shoot the supernatural creature. "Why were you with her on Sunday? What lies did you tell her, huh!?" This trickster was starting to piss me off. Was he interfering with the loop to play with us. "We only had a little chat. Exchanged numbers to connect later." That didn't make sense she killed herself why would she give out her number if she planned not to use it...unless she didn't commit suicide, but that didn't make sense. "Come on Samsquatch use that brain you claim you have. Your getting closer to the answer." The shorter male said. "It wasn't suicide it was something else." I said and the monster sighed throwing his head back. "I put the answer on a tee and you still manage to miss." Snapping his fingers he placed the red licorice in his mouth. "Then what is it then?! What am I missing? Tell me." Those golden eyes rolled as he walked up to me his eyes screaming mischief. "Fine I'll tell you."

Dean stepped in. "What's the catch?" The man hummed chewing slowly. "If I tell you. You get one more go around and the outcome stays. Does that sound fair? Three full days and you know exactly were she is all three of them." I tried to contemplate it we are starting better off knowing on Friday she was with the wolf, then came into town Saturday possible doing research before heading to the witch coven, and finally Sunday sitting at the diner returning home late at night to her room. Somethings weren't accounted for, but better start. "Deal!" The shock of the apple green eyes and the smug smirk on the tricksters face made me want to retract that statement. "Perfect! She did kill herself in that tub, but not from depression from Dumbs death like her letter made you believe or the abandonment from Dummer, that's you, so there's your answer." He tried to leave when I stopped him. "That's not the whole thing! Tell me the whole truth!!!" I yelled and all he did was grin. "You asked to know if it was suicide or something different and I told you plus some. Our deal never included all the answers." Holding up his hand he snapped his fingers. What have I done, again?

My eyes flutter open as I silence my alarm. The arm around my waist squeezed me and I turned around coming face to face with steel blue eyes gazing into me. "That alarm us depressing as hell." His gruff voice said as I chuckled laying my head on his bare chest. "Yeah, but I couldn't keep waking up to rock anymore." I smiled sadly Enter Sandman was my original alarm sound, but I couldn't stand hearing it anymore and I was so close to throwing away my cassette tape collection because every memory tied me to Dean and they only mocked me as someone that watched her brother died in their arms and was left behind. "Enough with the sad thoughts, Luna." The rumble of his voice pulled me out of it. "No sad thoughts here I'll be fixing it all soon, pup." I kissed up his neck causing his chest to vibrate with a purr that was so rough it sounded more like a growl. The world spun as I was pinned down looking up at him I raise a brow hooking my leg behind his knee flipping us. "Oh pup my turn to in charge." What a fun way to start other morning.

Finial Loop~ Y/n POV

“My legs are dangling of the edge”

After taking a shower Leo went in after talking about needing to hunt soon. "When I get back promise me a fantastic dinner, Leo!" I shouted and he gave a yell of agreement. I pull on some clothes fixing my hair and face. Taking a slip of paper from my journal I write a small note before kissing it. Grabbing my bag I walk down stairs looking at the vase plant. My eyes unfocused as I saw a unclear blurred image of a man examining the plant before turning around and fading away my vision focuses again and I shake my head. What the hell was that? I step closer taking the large bundle of the same flowers next to it. Wolfsbane wasn't as common as people assume and it doesn't ward off werewolves it gives them a boost actually making newly turned one's have more control over themselves and pure-bloods a extra kick. Within my hand was far more then any werewolf could consume at once. I leave and get into my car...I wish I got baby, but Sam just left one day so I had to find my own and Dean would be proud of the beaut I found opening the trunk I throw the bag in keeping the bundle of flowers in my hand. Starting the car I take one of the violet/blue flowers and I start chewing it bitter and gross, but to finish this by Sunday I had to work.

“The bottom of the bottle is my only friend.”

As I drove I turned on music drumming on the steering wheel. "I don't think you trust. In...my...self-righteous suicide. I...cry...when angels deserve to DIE!!" I was bobbing my head to the drums. "All of them deserve it, darling." I snapped my head to the side in shock before calming down reaching to lower the music. "Crowley a pleasure, but what have I told you about the whole appearing and not making yourself seen before talking. Next time I'll make a devils trap." He raised his hands in surrender as he chuckled a glass of scotch in hand. "Do you have what I was required?" I rolled my eyes as I lifted up the wolfsbane and stuck out my tongue to show the purple hue. "Yeah and the veil. A-are you sure this is going to work? I know its a little to late to stop now, but its just..." I sigh the words not coming out a hand rested on my shoulder and I gave a hum in content. "Everything will be different I won't be able to turn around. Things will never go back to the way it was after I do this whole trading places for him huh?" The Scottish demon shook his head and I gave a dry laugh. "I'll become the fucking Bride of Frankenstein with all this supernatural shit juicing up my soul the Queen of monsters if you will." I glanced over at him as he nodded in agreement a small grin pulling at his lips. "Ruler of them all my dear truly a unstoppable force that morons soul will be returned no contract attached and he may live again. All you must do is die and once in hell you'll become whole." He said taking a sip. A car came down the lone road and as it started to pace my mind slipped into my inner thoughts of how I got here. All of this started months ago I was trying to find a way to sell my soul for Dean, but all demons refused and it wasn't until the King of crossroads and I struck up a deal was any progress made. Our deal was unlike any other. No hellhounds were doomed to rip my soul from my body and I learned the true reason that I was unable to make a deal. My soul had something special I was destine to be the Winchesters saving grace, but to do that my soul could no longer be human.

Letting the memory fade the black car no longer in sight which was odd I just get back to the conversation. "Will I you know...forget about them? Forget who I am to them?" Crowley frowned slightly at my question before speaking up. "No my sweet clover you'll remember and you can return just you must live without them on your own, but your use to that. Aren't you?" I sucked my teeth and nodded my head this was for my brother Dean and Sam to reunite them and get out of the way. "Do you have what I need?" I asked and a silver flask was pulled from his jacket shacking it slightly. "The blood of a hell born beast." His words made me look over all I needed was two more things and it'll be done. I grab the flask about to open it a drink when his hand stopped me. "You already look sick from the other ingredients and you aren't even halfway done with consuming them all. Wait till you get to your witchy friends to help." I nodded as I look down the long road turning the music back up.

"Why have you forsaken me? In your arms forsaken me in your eyes forsaken me oh!"

Time skip Saturday Morning~

I pulled into the the motel parking as I tried to even out my breath. Stepping out I close the drivers door and get my bag from the back. I saw a flicker of a car next to me, but my eyes must be playing tricks on me. I walk to the respiration desk and get a room key funny enough it was the room I was originally supposed to be in, but it was unavailable last time so I slept on the lumpy sofa. I walked down the hall, but freeze infront of the door checking to see if anyone was looking I pick the lock the sound of a slight shuffle didn't stop me though. The door swung open the light of the sun illuminated the room enough it looked just like it did the day we were going to leave minus the once messy beds. Setting my bag down I walk over to the bed Dean slept in and flopped on it my body doing a small bounce.

The covers almost felt warm underneath, but I chalked it up to the direct sunlight it was getting. I flip over and sit up cupping my face in my hands letting out a deep breath tears starting to well up. "I'm so sorry, De. I should be trying harder to save you. I hate to admit it, but I gave up after awhile nothing that went bump in the night scared me anymore I am brutal just like him and I-I don't like it and I know you wouldn't either." My voice hitched as the salt water built up. "I got exactly like this once after Sam left put everything into hunting to feel better, but you were there that time, to keep me and Dad from murdering each other, to take me on late night drives to cool off, answer your phone each time I called... now you're gone and so is Sammy." I give a watery chuckle at the thought of Sam my supposed brother. "It's funny how history lived through or written down can always be repeated I thought after everything it be different. He'd be different, but now I'm here alone without anyone god it's so much worse." The sun seemed to warm my body in some type of embrace a feeling that I've missed and have been craving it felt so close and personal I could almost return the hug, but no one was there not anymore. My anger that I held towards Sam for so long turned onto me after a few months I wasn't enough to him after Dean left maybe I was never enough. "I'm using some of my old favors. From hunters I helped to monsters I saved this is my last half assed effort to be useful to give Sammy what he needs most and that's you, haha you Jackass, always has been always will be. The Winchester brothers against the world while their not even blood sister followed like a lost puppy." I leaned down slipping my hand on the underside of the bed my fingers gently wrapped around and pulling it Dean's colt free. "The myth is true they don't clean motel rooms. You owe me twenty buck." Pocketing the gun I stand up and walk back to the door. "Goodbye, Batsy. See ya soon." I close the door with my bag in hand I got to my own room. After the long drive I want to take a small nap before heading over to the coven house I already called her Friday.

Knocking on the door of the house a tall women with long red hair opened the door before I can greet Mama she pulled me into a tight a hug and I went limp in her hold resting my head on her shoulder breathing in the smell of saga and rosemary. “My child you've finally arrived.” She released me from the hug pulling me into the cozy home. It looked normal in the front area, but after stepping into the living place it screamed witch. My “blood of the coven” sisters quickly came over and we all started chatting like a bunch of high school friends I wished Dean could see me now in a share circle talking about boys while a mother figure was in the kitchen making lunch for us. He’d be happy for me I’m being normal grabbing a slice of that apple pie life like he’s always wanted for us, but God if he only he knew I would throw all of this away the happiness,normality,my lifd to be with him again on the road or states apart just knowing he’s there if not for me,for anyone is all I’ll ever need. We all ate and laughed before testing the spell the liquid looked like tar and the consistency wasn’t far off. ”It will take a month to work just like you wanted. When you feel the time is right drink it all don't leave a single drop or I'll kill you myself.” Mama Freya threatened and I quickly nodded taking the bottle. “Hey mama I was wondering I have all these ingredients I need to take, but they are..” I shiver thinking of the taste of the metallic blood going down my throat or the skin rudder and tough stuck in my teeth. “Hard to keep down can you put them in a easier form to swallow?” She smiled as she took the bag of ingredients taking each items one at a time and it was like looking at a rainbow of pills I dig through my bag finding old pain killer bottles,orange prescription bottles,and a empty baggies that I haven't cleared from my bag to hold them all. Over twenty full bottles and five baggies of the small rounded and capsual shaped objects.

"Its getting late Mama I best be on my way back to the motel. I still have two more ingredients." She nodded sadly and hugged for what felt luke the millionth time since being here. Haha millionth is over exaggerating and it sounds like something Dean would say. "I'm going to miss you girly. The place won't be the same without you." Her face was that of a mother mourning the lose of a child that simply is leaving the nest not about to do the unthinkable and leave this earth. "I'll be back before y'all even notice I'm gone. Scouts honor." I raised my hand and gave a grin. "You better be I'll have more pie baking waiting for you." My eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. I nodded quickly as I went to say by to my sisters. "Good night everyone." I heard various shiuts as I closed the door walking over to my charger I look into the glass of the drivers door and see the house behind me in flames. Snapping back around it was completely fine...what the hell is going on?! I got in the car and drove back to the motel maybe hallucinations are a side effect. I just need to sleep it off like a hangover.

Sunday Moning

I woke up early for breakfast and my meet up with Gabe. Rolling out of bed I get ready I gaze at the full bottles and baggies and I dump half of each in my hand setting them aside as before grabbing a glass...water or whiskey? It was morning and I wanted to semi walk straight so I went with water. Taking it all down with atheist to glasses of water I get up and leave walking to the dinner seeing no point in driving. It was weird walking down the same sidewalk that I once shared with Sam and Dean each step was painful and it was like the feeling all those months ago is coming back in waves. I'm sure if I stayed in the same room it would be ten time worse. Ignoring the pain I stepped in the dinner looking at the menu,but someone sat in front of me just as the waitress came up. "She'll have a short stake with your meat lover omelet and a black coffee. I'll take your Nutella pancakes as a large stake extra nutella and a hot chocolate." The women quickly wrote that down not even having to say a word and left looking up from the plastic covered menu my e/c orbs met molten gold ones. "You know I just get all tingly when you take charge like that." I give a flirtatious smile as her winked at me. Chuckling I set the menu down giving him my full attention. "So trickery archangel what is it like?" He looked shock for a second before recovering. "I knew I liked you for a reason,smarties. My angelic looks?" Gabe tried to smolder,but I just sighed letting out a breathy laugh. "Since the trial started I've noticed your energy and power is stronger yet more pure then any other trickster." I said and he gave a nod.

"So that's why you called me back to this hell hole to confront me. Boo I was hoping for a little more bedroom eyes and less business tone." Gabriel said as his stake of chocolate on chocolate pancakes were sat infront of him as he then drowned it in make syrup. Mine were sat down as well,but I started on the omelet first. "Not really to confront you but to ask for something. When we met last time I told you about the trial and what I needed after trying to kill a trickster buddy of yours. Now that I know you have not just angel blood,but trickster mojo mixed in I was wonder If I can have some." He paused setting the syrup down and gazing up at me. "Alright no biggie have had worse things wanting my blood." Snapoing hus finder he held a vial of blood that glowed slightly and handed it over. I was a little shocked that was alot easier then expected,but I won't look a gifted horse in the mouth. Suddenly I felt like I was freezing up someone was watching us giving Gabe a look he got the idea and we stopped speaking about supernatural and continued to eat. As we both finished I pulled out a notepad and pen. "Tell me were to find you I'll see when we can meet." Gabe nodded and wiped his mouth. "10236 Charing Cross Road, Los Angeles,CA~" I wrote it out and as I read over it my eyes turned back up I gave my best bitch face at his smug grin. "The playboy mansion?" He gave a smirk as we both stood up. "What can I say the ladies love me." I was tempted to hit him with the notepad,but went against it as I put it back in my inner jacket pocket. "Later Gabe. Don't get in too much trouble I'm not saving you." I placed the money on the table. "I wouldn't dream of it,Angel."

I left with that the eyes I felt on me earlier followed me out of the dinner. Diving into the crowed weaving between people I keep going before dipping into a alley getting to the opposite side to a different street. I had one more meet up for the day

Time skip

The warehouse was worn down,but it was the only place far enough for this. Opening my phone I dial Crowley's number. The moment it rung once he appeared infront of me along with his mother. "Hello Rowena." She smiled at me stepping closer hugging me. Whats with the hugs today? "Oh you wee little las! So precious!" Her hands cupped my cheeks as she looked me over. "When Fergus told me you were a Winchester I expected a brut of a lady,but not near this lovely." I peaked over her shoulder to look at Crowley with a elevated brow all he did was sigh and shack his head. Rowena finial stepped back as I brushed myself off. "Now on with business. How much is left?" He asked as I shivered at the amount of items I had to swallow. "Half of everything. Once I'm back at my room I'll take the other half then the spell." I said and Crowley nodded as his hand caressed his facial hair. "Shouldn't be long now,Clover. Dean will be back in three days time no strings attached." This was a relief if Dean saw me he would kill me before I got the chance to do it myself. "Don't worry,love hell isn't all bad." The redheaded witch said causing me to give a look.

"Yes day filled of torture and nightly strolls through the flames are quite pleasant." Crowley stiffled a chuckle as Rowena smiled. "She's feisty too,Fergus if you don't settle down with her no girl will be nearly enough." A choked gasp came from the demon as he coughed on his whiskey that he summoned. "Mother please not this. Not now." He was able to clear his throat enough to talk. "If not now then when Fergus?! You aren't getting any younger and I've lived enough life to at least see one grandchild!" She shouted. I gave a apologetic smile at the demon king's expense. Life with a mother sure had it's ups and downs. The arguing didn't stop so I took my leave Dean would find it funny if I ever told him 'So I witnessed a demon and a witch get in a argument about future grandkids' he'd eat it up. Anything I'd tell him he'd pay attention a hundred percent even if it bored the crap out of him. It's what good brothers do they stayed through all the shit good,bad,exiting,or boring. The don't leave.

Time skip Nighttime

I drove back to the motel feeling sicker then ever before it was the horrible withdrawal it was around time to take the rest of it and end it all. Arriving back I turn on the light it felt like someone was here,but it was so faint. I open all the pill bottles along with the glowing angle blood and look at the empty glass from this morning deciding on the whiskey instead to was it all down. Handful after handle I gulp them all down the bottles were empty and the alcohol was a third full. Looking at the vial of black I take a deep breath...it was time. Opening it I tilted my head back and let it slide down my throat it felt like I was trying to swallow a live slug. It was slow and almost agonizing,but it eventually went down. Taking in a deep breath I stand up with a slight wobble I grab my bags putting everything,but my journal and the empty bottles away. Stepping on the bed I slip the duffel bags in the air vent and fall back on the bed flopping. Dozen of empty pill bottles,whiskey,a knife,and a suicide note in a journal of what can only be chalked up as drug induced illusions it was perfect scene of a regular suicide.

Taking the small pocket knife that had no significance to be like the weapons in my bag I get up to go the the bathroom I closed the door,but didn't lock it wanted my body to be easy to find. Running the water I peel out of my close feeling the world spin on its axial. Once the tub was full of burning hot water I slide in the heat soothing the ache of my body and the steam clearing my head of the negative thoughts. I started with small cuts scattered randomly on my arms one for each day Dean was gone,one for each call Sam missed,one for each word I said in every voicemail,one for every monster I've killed on my own, and one for every day I lived without both of them. My arms looked horrible they were almost unrecognizable I couldn't even see my s/c skin with all the red til I dipped my arms in the water the water turning a dark redish pink. With a deep breath I dig the tip of the blade into the nook of my left elbow and pulled it down. I felt the tip of it graze my bone knowing I didn't just slice the vein,but that I cut it completely in half and then some. With each quick heartbeat the blood gushed out in new waves. I felt light headed,but made sure to give the same treatment to my other arm.

Letting my head rest against the Porcelain of the motel bathrooms tub I let my arms stain the water darking it with each pulse of blood. It would be beautiful and so satisfying if it was the dwindling of my life into the still water. I heard the faint sound of the front door being bashed open and then along with the slam of the bathroom looking up slightly I see boots,jeans,and flannels. Was that my heaven? Seeing them once before I fall to hell. Warm arms pick me up out of the tub their touch was so light yet so strong. I blacked in and out,buy the hum of the most beautiful engine made me smile as I looked around dazed. "I've missed you too,baby." My head must have been in someone's lab because a voice from above was speaking. "Stay....N/n....almost....awake!" The warm hands caressed my face and I leaned into it that voice was the one I've wanted to hear for months and not just through a voice message after every missed call. "See ya soon,De. I‐" My breath was light as everything started to fade. "-love...you." The faint grip that I had on life slipped away as I fell. Falling would have scared me if it didn't feel so good like I was just sleeping without the worry of a monster coming to kill me it was peaceful.

Dean PoV

Damnit we were losing her. "DRIVE FASTER!!!" I yelled at same the hospital wasn't far,but she already lost so much blood by the time we barged in. We didn't want to kill her like the first time breaking in and I knew the same if not something worse would happen if we tried to go in with her already inside. If we just went in sooner we would have enough time,more time, to save her and guaranteed shed make it. Now as seconds past it was looking bad really bad. Finally getting there was like a race to the finish I ran in with her wet wrapped in a towel and dripping blood they took her from me and rushed off with her. All the what if's popped in my head I couldn't sell my soul again for her nor could Sammy I won't let him,but she was dying...my little sister was dying in there and I had no power to help her.

Time skip

We sat in the waiting room and the Sum peaked through the windows shining bright. It should be fucking raining the best thing in this world was fighting for her life. A docter in blue scrubs came in specs of blood were evident and the grime look on his face said it all,but I didn't want to believe it. Y/n is a Winchester she'll pull through this. "Mr.Smith I'm afraid to inform you that your sister didn't make it. She lost far to much blood for us to perform a stomach pump and the inability to seal the sliced vain due to the severity of it proved to be a key factor. I apologize for your lost you may see her now." Both me and Sam stood up and followed him to a room it was smaller then a normal patient room,but it also didn't have any equipment like a normal one. No heart monitor to give me hope,but what would be the point it would beat not for her,not anymore. Her arms were wrapped,but it was blotted with blood still,her body was in a pale blue gown,and her skin was paler then a sheet. Somehow seeing her like this was more traumatizing knowing that last time I couldn't save her helped with the guilt and pain of it all. Just seeing N/n now knowing that it was within my arms she said her last words to me,knowing her last thoughts were about me It broke me more then anything. Sam was quite and silent tears rolled down his face I couldn't tell if it was from sadness or guilt both emotions were conflicted in his eyes. I walked closer to her kissing her forehead it was could tibthe touch as I pulled away. "We tried so hard to save her and she still died each time differently. And yet to every bad there's a worse. This is so much worse." Tears slipped from my eyes as I looked at her longer as I spoke to Sam. We left that cursed town taking her with us. Once we got to Bobby's we buried her not willing to give her a hunters funeral she needed something to get back into when we find a way to save her. I have to save her like she tried to save me.

I watched them bury me in a deep grave no smoke or flames either. Blinking away the black from my eyes I looked at Crowley on the throne in hell just a month earth time years hell time and I'll be back Dean. I'll comfort you like you comforted me in my last moments alive. Walking out of the throne room to my own little room in hell I hummed as song letting the words eacho in the halls of screams. "Thank God its Friday, 'cause Fridays will always be better then Sundays, 'cause Sundays are my suicide days."

. ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒: ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ˚̣- : ✧ :⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - :. ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒: ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : . ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒: ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ˚̣- : ✧ :⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - :. ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒: ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅

A/n: Part two is down. And you guys thought I'd make the emotional Rollercoaster end lol now you get more trauma!

Quote: "And yet to every bad there's a worse." —Criminal Minds

Hoped you enjoyed this. And please note something I didn't want hinted at in the warning this is fake suicide for a ritual and plz don't take it to heart when I'm using it repeatedly like in this part.

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nanamixxkento · 3 years

Text

“never letting you out of my sight” (Nanami x Female Reader)

Rating: T

Content Warning: Referenced past sexual harrasment from an authority figure

Word Count: 2,002 words

A/N: this is my first time writing for the JJK fandom! Please be nice ✨

You had gone with Nanami to the mall to grab a bite before heading for Jujutsu High to meet Gojo and Itadori.

Nanami was not in charge of you, and you’d long since graduated Jujutsu High. He tended to act more like a friendly guide and yet, unbidden, the ‘sensei’ honorific would slip out despite your intentions sometimes.

Like now.

Nanami didn’t look offended, he rarely did. He simply regarded you out of the corner of his eyes, body lax. “I have to wonder, do I really look like a teacher figure all that much? I didn’t think so before you and Yuji.”

And you’d almost stammered with embarrassment as you apologised.

“I sure do hope it’s not a bossy attitude on my part,” Nanami mused, sending you into another round of hasty but heartfelt apologies.

“Relax, y/n, I’m just messing with you,” he cracked a small smile. “I think it’s cute.”

Cute. The word thundered in your ears for a moment as your stomach swarmed with butterflies. You mused that it would be wholly inappropriate to respond with ‘I think you’re cute’ and refrained from making that comment.

Instead, you said: “Please don’t tease me, Nanami-san.”

“Ah,” he said lightly, with an airy chuckle. “I’m starting to think I prefer sensei. Maybe it’s growing on me.”

Nanami led you up the escalators, eyes scanning cursorily around. The mall was unusually crowded for this time of the week, but you should still be able to grab what you needed in time before your meeting.

You weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings, your entire focus taken by Nanami’s commanding presence. That was your first mistake.

Your second mistake was pausing by the elegant display of evening gowns to admire the sleek, black dress on the mannequin. Nanami, in his unique brand of kindness, suggested you stay behind to take a look while he ordered your food.

Unfortunately, you were too busy dwelling in the warm, fluttery feelings this man inspired to notice just who else was in the shop.

The familiar voice reached you several long minutes into your trip, sounding just a few racks away.

Your entire body went cold, and instantly numb as you recognised the nasally tenor of your ex-boss. Blood rushed loudly in your ears, and for a few moments that felt like a small eternity, fear left you too paralysed to even move.

This was the man that had tried to ruin your life and very nearly succeeded. The man who had abused your need for a job to get away with doing whatever he wished. The man who had ... who had ...

Your eyes stung with the memory of hot, clammy hands on your shoulders, touching you without heed to your feelings or consent.

The voice drew closer, slamming you into your body with another jolt of trepidation.

You did not want to see him. You never wanted to see him again.

Spinning around, you dashed behind another rack, heart hammering. He was sniggering loudly with someone on the phone, bringing back more unpleasant memories of all the times you’d ask him to stop being inappropriate only for him to laugh loudly, like your request was silly. “Y/n we’re friends,” he would say condescendingly. “This is what friends do, no?”

You turned another corner, trying to make it to the exit unnoticed, when in your haste you knocked over a mannequin. You stood frozen, shocked and mortified, as you stared at the mess you’d made.

That was your third mistake.

“Y/n?”

It would be wholly undignified to start crying, wouldn’t it? You thought cynically as you slowly turned around to face that monster.

You refused to waver, to show your fear. “Yes?”

“It is you!” He cried, taking a step closer and instinctively making you take a step back. “Long time no see!”

He took another step forward, which you mirrored again by taking a step back. His face was twisting into an ugly smile that barely hid the underlying sneer. “Come on now don’t be like that, is this how you treat your friends? Come on and give me a hug, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, to say ‘over my dead fucking body’ when a gentle palm settled over your shoulder.

You barely managed not to jump.

“Y/n,” Nanami’s self-assured baritone washed over you. The sudden all-encompassing relief it bought nearly toppled you off your feet. “Your food is starting to get cold.”

Looking at him made your heart shake. He had an unreadable expression on his face, a slight pinch to the corner of his mouth. He must’ve read your fear in your eyes for his features hardened as he turned to regard your company. “And who might this be?”

Opening and closing your mouth, you floundered, no words passing from your lips but for the hesitant mutter of Nanami’s name.

Your ex-boss, in his usual arrogant fashion, nearly sneered at Nanami as he addressed you. “Aren’t you going to tell him sweetheart?”

It was enough to set your blood boiling with anger. With Nanami at your side, the fear receded to allow indignation to take its place. “Don’t call me that.”

Nanami’s hand tightened imperceptibly on your shoulder.

Your ex-boss didn’t heed your wish. “Aw don’t be like that, sweetheart—“

“I think,” Nanami said icily, cutting him off. “That she just told you to not call her that.”

The frigidness radiating off him made your ex-boss straighten and regard Nanami curiously.

And then a sick smile slowly spread over his face, his eyes taking in Nanami’s suit, his hand on your shoulder, his expensive watch and finally his eyes. “Ah,” he said like it all suddenly made sense. “He’s your new boss isn’t he? Gone to play toy to another man, y/n? Does he treat you better? Does he pay you better to use your—“

You gasped as Nanami smoothly stalked forward, grabbing your ex-boss by his meticulous oriental-tie and yanked him closer, nearly lifting the man off his feet.

“Okay, let’s make one thing clear here,” Nanami said, voice unwavering but body coiled with what you recognised as anger. “I don’t know who you are. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck who you are. But this conversation is over. Turn around, and walk away. I won’t give you another chance.”

You watched as your boss glared at Nanami hatefully for a long moment as your heart raced and raced, and more butterflies—and crap, maybe some arousal too—flooded you.

But then his hateful gaze settled on you and he opened his mouth to no doubt make another scathing remark.

Sooner than he could talk, Nanami’s long fingers were framing his jaw and forcefully directing your ex-boss’s gaze back to him. “Don’t even look at her.”

Your ex-boss finally relented, yanking Nanami’s hand away and stepping back to fix his suit. “Fine,” he spat. “I hope you enjoy your useless toy. Pathetic.”

You and Nanami watched him walk away silently. There was shame now as the anger receded.

What did Nanami think of you now?

You stared at the toppled mannequin, the death grip you had on your bag, and finally to Nanami, who looked more than a little ruffled now that your ex-boss was gone.

He turned to face you, and you opened your mouth to apologise, “I’m—“

“Are you okay?” He grit.

You blinked. “Um. Yes. I think. Are ... are you okay?”

He didn’t look okay. He looked angry. You couldn’t even remember ever seeing Nanami angry. “No,” he said shortly. “Who was that? What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?”

The barrage of questions left you a little dazed. You had no idea how to even answer but you attempted to anyway, stuttering under Nanami’s gaze. “That was ...” you swallowed thickly. “He was my ex-boss.”

You hated how it came out as a weak whisper, but you hadn’t wanted to utter his name ever again.

Your mouth opened and closed over all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t—all the things you never told anyone about. Nanami watched you struggle for words, and his expression only darkened. “Y/n. Did he hurt you?”

You stared at your feet as shame nearly overwhelmed you and you choked out, “Yes. But I— I let it happen— I had no choice, I needed the money, I couldn’t just— and he wouldn’t ever listen when I said to stop—“

With a jolt you realised you were crying, and with another jolt you noticed Nanami loom closer.

A gentle hand cradled the back of your head and pushed you into Nanami’s study chest, not quite a hug, one you could easily break if you wished to.

“I’ll kill him,” Nanami vowed softly, the icy softness still there but overshadowed by the gentleness of his tone. “I will.”

You shook your head, shuddering as your arms snaked around his middle and you unabashedly buried your face in his shoulder. “Please stay.”

“I’m here,” he soothed, still speaking in a hushed tone you’ve never heard before. “You’re okay. You’re safe now. I promise.”

The security of his presence washed over you again, tempting your knees to give out.

“I won’t ever leave you alone again,” he added, stroking the hair at the crown of your head. “Would you like me to cancel our meeting?”

You shook your head mutely. “I’ll be fine,” you managed to croak and reluctantly broke from his embrace to wipe hastily at your tears. “Sorry I ruined your shirt.”

He glanced down distractedly at the small wet spot on his dress shirt. “Don’t be silly,” he chided. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you whispered, wiping at your eyes one final time and taking a settling breath. “We can go now if you want.”

He studied your face closely for any signs of deceit. “We really can cancel the meeting,” he said slowly. “Gojo would understand.”

You bit your lip, tempted. You still felt shaken and unfocused and all you wished for was to go home and curl under your covers.

Nanami apparently took your reluctance as an answer for he immediately whipped his phone out. He sounded strange as he spoke to Gojo, his words short and his tone barely keeping the anger out.

When he finally ended the call, he looked at you. “Would you like me to take you home now?”

“Um,” you said, embarrassed yet again but feeling warm to your toes. “I... I would prefer it if I didn’t have to be alone so soon.”

Nanami simply nodded. “Very well.”

You stared in surprise as he offered you his hand but you took it with only a moment’s hesitation, feeling his large palm completely engulf yours.

“I told you,” he said in answer to your silent question. “I won’t leave you alone again. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Now you were sure you were blushing as he led you out of the shop, hand in hand, uncaring for the toppled mannequin or anything else. His grip on you was firm but not tight, and he radiated safety with every step until all the poisonous feelings bled out of you.

“Y/n?”

“Mhm?”

“You would tell me if someone bothered you again, wouldn’t you?”

There was no resisting the smile now, tentative and affectionate. “Yes.”

“Even if that someone was me.”

You looked at him, surprised.

He elaborated: “If I ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me.”

More warmth flooded your chest. “I will.” You promised.

He squeezed your hand, raising it. “Is this fine?”

“More than fine,” you admitted, face warm. “Really, Nanami-sen—err, Nanami-san.”

A humorous smile softened his features. “You know what? I don’t think I mind that honorific too much. Not from you.”

And it made your heart skip a beat. “Why not from me?”

“Easy,” he said, and turned to regard you with a rare affable expression. “Because you’re my favourite.”

#Jjk #Jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #fanfiction #one-shot #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #My writings

191 notes · View notes

tearh0seok · 3 years

Text

For all you c!Wilbur and c!Quackity enthusiasts/ people who just like some good old fashioned c!karlnapity angst, this ones for you. Enjoy!!

—————

My Tears Ricochet

And I still talk to you

(when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night

(you hear my stolen lullabies)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The bag hits his back with a solid thump, causing him to stumble forward and grunt from the weight of it. He instinctively reaches out for the nearest wall and steadies himself. He holds his breath for a second, prepared to hear the rustling of bed sheets as someone wakes up due to the noise, before he releases it in a quiet, cynical laugh. He is, as he had been for a while now, alone. No one around for him to hold, to talk to, to wake up, to care about. As he makes his way out into the streets of Las Nevada’s, he scans the area for any sign of life. Slime and Fundy must have turned in early enough, and Foolish had long stopped working on his latest big project. He strolls through the streets quietly, humming to himself as he takes in the nation, his nation. At night, the buildings and area look like a mirror image of the man who owned them: empty, cold and alone. He shakes his head trying not to think about it too much. Now was not a time for self-pity or grief. No, now was the time for revenge. The kind of revenge that he just couldn’t drag the others into, they’d never understand. In fact, they’d all think he was insane. They’d leave him behind, all alone, just like before, with-

“Quackity?”

The voice causes Quackity to drop his bag, the thud echoing against the pristine buildings of his city. He looks up at the road ahead of him, and finds Wilbur Soot leaning against the Las Nevada’s sign, a shadow under the bright lights, with his face illuminated only by the red hot glow of his cigarette. Quackity sees his lips twitch up into a tired smirk, and it immediately makes him want to punch the other man in the face. “You’re on my land, Wilbur,” he growls, picking the bag back up, and throwing it back over his shoulder. His grip on the straps tighten as he hears Wilbur laugh quietly. “I thought we put that in the past, Big Q. You know, healthy competition and all that jazz?” Wilbur says tauntingly. Quackity barely spares him a glance as he trudges past the sign, staring straight over Wilbur’s shoulder to where he can see the glow of the burger van in the distance.

“Yeah well, we’re both closed for the day so I didn’t see a need for any of the formalities,” Quackity mutters, praying that the conversation ends there. But of course, to no avail, as soon Quackity hears footsteps behind him and has to resist the oh so demanding urge to punch this guy in the nose. “Then, off the record and completely out of curiosity, as an old friend, may I ask where we’re going?” Wilbur says, as he falls into step beside the smaller man. Quackity digs his heels into the tarmac and stops, turning to the man beside him. “ We are not going anywhere, I have some business to attend to, and you are going back to wherever you came from and forgetting you saw me,” he grunts, poking Wilbur in the middle of his chest to emphasize his point.

He continues walking, and due to the lack of footsteps he assumes the other man has taken the hint and is heading home. However, he hears the sound of shoes approaching, and suddenly Wilbur is at his side once more. “Oh but now you see, my friend,” Wilbur sighs, voice laced with amusement, “now I’m intrigued. What is this so-called business, why is it so secret, and why-“ Quackity feels a slight pull on his back as Wilbur tries to peek into the bag. He quickly whips around, face to face with Wilbur, hoping the other hadn’t seen the contents of the bag. Unfortunately, the fire dancing in Wilbur’s eyes and the wild grin that covers his face suggests otherwise.

“- Why do you have so much TNT and a flint and steel, Quackity?”

It’s said quietly, but the tone of his voice is so menacing that it causes Quackity to shudder. This is really not how tonight was supposed to go, and the more time Quackity spends here talking to Wilbur, the more time he has to contemplate and regret the decision he’s about to make. So he lets his guard down, briefly, and murmurs, “It’s personal, Will, and I’m already starting to regret it, so the last thing I need is to feel guilty about dragging someone else into this too.” And with that, he slowly turns away, head hanging, and begins mentally bracing for what he’s about to do. He just needs to clear his head, and remind himself that this isn’t his fault, it’s everyone else’s for pushing him away, pushing him to this point, and for leaving him alone, AGAIN-

“Do you need some company?”

The voice is quiet and wavering, and if they hadn’t known each other for so long, Quackity wouldn’t have recognized the unsure tone of Wilbur’s voice. He looks over his shoulder at the other man, whose face, illuminated by the moon, is covered with hesitation.

“Wilbur, I just told you, I don’t want to drag anyone else-“

“I didn’t ask if you wanted company, I asked if you needed it, Quackity.”

The words stop him in his tracks. He feels all the air rush out of his lungs and finds himself struggling to breathe. He looks down at the freshly paved road below him, willing away the hot sting of tears. No one, not even Slime, has asked him that in a very long time. The last person to ever say that to him was probably-

“Listen, I know what it’s like, carrying all of this awful stuff on your shoulders. And I have no doubt that what you’re about to do is going to be something you add to the list of things you regret, but you had to do in the moment. I’m not offering to help, as I can tell this is something you need to do for yourself.” He feels a hand on his shoulder, and looks up to see Wilbur with a grim, but soft smile. “What I’m offering is my presence, just so you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Quackity pauses for a moment, taking in the weight of Wilbur’s words, but soon realizes that if he thinks about them too much, he might break down in tears. So he takes the bag off his back and dumps it into Wilbur’s arms. The other catches it with a quiet “oof”, as Quackity grunts, “Let’s go then, we need to get this done by sunrise.”

And just like that, they head off into the night.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur soon realizes that, in hindsight, he should have known where Quackity was headed all along. Quackity didn’t have any major enemies that Wilbur knew of besides Dream and Techno, but Dream is in prison and Techno is god knows where. Quackity also doesn’t seem like the type to commit an act of violence without some sort of motivation, and Wilbur’s 90% sure he wouldn’t do it to threaten someone. Really, using that reasoning, Wilbur should have known their destination. Even as they trekked across the hills and plains, Wilbur should have noticed the direction they were going in. However, it wasn’t until they came to a clearing that opened up onto a shoreline, that he saw their target. While he knows there’s no other option it could be, he still asks the question.

“Why are we at Kinoko Kingdom?”

There it stood, across the water in all its shining glory. Though it was silent in the dead of night, the nation still looked warm and inviting, a sharp contrast to Las Nevada’s at this hour. Wilbur looked at the man at his side, hoping to gauge a reaction, but Quackity’s face was hard as he stared across at the nation like it was the bane of his existence. “I thought you were here to keep me company, not question me,” Quackity grinds out, looking like he’s holding himself back from screaming, or crying, or both. And so Wilbur just shrugs, and places the bag down. Immediately, Quackity throws it open and so the work begins.

Wilbur watches silently as Quackity takes out as much as he can carry and starts making his way around the edge of the shore to the first building he can find. He looks back briefly at Wilbur, indicating for the other man to follow. And while his face remains stony, just as he turns away Wilbur catches a glimpse of the other man’s face crumpling. He watches Quackity let out an unsteady breath, before readjusting the materials in his arms and marching into Kinoko Kingdom.

Quackity, Wilbur is learning, is quite the expert when it comes to TNT. The man is methodical, precise in his placement, ensuring that each piece is in the perfect location to do maximum damage. Although Wilbur said he wouldn’t help, he eventually can’t take the boredom of just standing around, and starts to help. He hears no objection from Quackity, and so he assumes that he is alright to continue. They work in near silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional animal or monster in the distance. Suddenly, a thought comes to Wilbur’s head, and so he stands up and walks over to where Quackity is kneeling, fixing a stick of TNT into place. “Quackity, what about Sapnap and Karl?” He asks, and immediately realizes his mistake. He watches Quackity’s entire body tense up, and the man turns to him, face thunderous.

“What about them?” He asks coldly, and for the first time in a very long time, Wilbur is fearful of the man in front of him.

“Are you just going to leave them here? To…. you know….?”

Wilbur doesn’t finish his sentence, knowing that one wrong word could lead to him having a similar fate to Kinoko Kingdom. However, Quackity relaxes, ever so slightly, and turns back to his work. “They’re not here. They went hunting this morning and I heard from Foolish that they would be gone until tomorrow,” he states, voice wavering slightly, but otherwise filled with certainty. Satisfied with Quackity’s answer, Wilbur picks up some more TNT and begins positioning it near a massive pond in the heart of the kingdom. As he’s working, he hears a small voice cut through the silence.“I couldn’t do it with them here. It’s hard enough without them around, but if they were here - it would be impossible.” Quackity has never sounded more vulnerable, his voice soft yet even, but Wilbur can tell there’s a whole world of pain built within those words. So he leaves any questions he had to the side and continues to work through the silence, with only the moon, stars and the loneliest man in the world for company.

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

When everything’s done, despite the circumstances, Quackity is weirdly proud of himself. He doesn’t take too long to admire his handy work though, as it may cause him to just take it all back and go home. He begins connecting everything together with one long line of red stone. This surprisingly doesn’t take him too long, and soon he and Wilbur are making their way out of Kinoko Kingdom and back to their perch on the other side of the shore, trailing red stone behind them. Once he’s far enough away, Quackity dares to look back, and regrets it instantly. He sees Kinoko Kingdom for all it is- a clear representation of who Sapnap and Karl are, to others, to each other ,and it’s almost as if you can see the love that lives there. And then, on top of it all, protruding and ugly, is the TNT- Quackity’s doing. Quackity’s mark on the place. That is all he represents; destruction and ruin. Quackity knew there must have been a reason they left him behind, and now he sees it; pure, unadulterated evil . He is the cause of his own pain, his own problems. He gets left behind because when people get to know him- when Sapnap and Karl, his boys, got to know him, all they could do is run in fear. From now on, he is the one calling the shots, because Quackity refuses to ever be left behind again. And if that means being alone, forever, then so be it.

He sniffs and wipes his eyes as he walks, feeling like all of the armour he had put on his heart has fallen away, his wounds have reopened and he’s bleeding out. Over the dull white nose in his ears, he hears Wilbur’s voice in the distance, asking if he’s ok. However he doesn’t pay it any attention, simply connecting the chain of red stone to a button placed on the floor in front of him. He looks up one last time, at the place the loves of his life call home. And then, he presses the button.

If you’d asked him how he wanted this to go, Quackity would’ve described it exactly like this; quick, so quick that you’d miss it if you blink, and then so, so, slowly, like you were watching the life drain from the place. That was exactly what they got. The TNT detonated almost all at once, sending earth and debris flying everywhere. It was almost mesmerizing to watch as in the blink of an eye, something so beautiful was completely maimed. Then came the fire, spreading ever so slowly through what remained of the godforsaken place. As Quackity watched the flames grow, he felt a laugh bubble up in his chest. He let out a light chuckle, until soon he was gasping for breath as he cackled, all the while tears rolled down his face. Soon his laughter mixed with heavy sobs, and he felt Wilbur grip his shoulder, pulling him to face the other man. Wilbur’s face was glowing orange, almost as if it was ablaze along with the city they had just destroyed.

“QUACKITY! Pull yourself together!” He shouted sternly, shaking Quackity by the shoulders harshly. Quackity shoved him off, pushing him away with such force that Wilbur fell back into the sand.

“NO! You know what, fuck you Wilbur!” He spits, pointing down at the man beneath him, “ you don’t get to fucking tell me what to do, when you did the exact same fucking thing not too long ago. Remember that? You did it too, so fuck you. Fuck you for being here, for helping, for listening to me, and fuck you for all the shit you did in the past.” With that, Quackity whips himself around to face the destroyed kingdom in front of him.

“And fuck you!” He screams, not caring who hears or how much his voice wants to give out, “Fuck you and your perfect little kingdom, and your perfect little life. Fuck you guys for telling me you loved me.” His voice cracks at the end of the sentence and slowly his screams turn into heart-wrenching sobs. “Fuck you for pretending you cared. Fuck you for promising me that you’d stay .”

He rips both rings off of his left ring finger and throws them into the water, with such a force that he stumbles forward. He collapses to the ground, the weight of his own heartbreak too much to bear. He feels Wilbur drag him up into his lap, cradling him like a child. When he looks up at Wilbur, the other man gently brings a hand to his face, and wipes the tears from his cheeks. It’s been so long since Quackity has been held like this, that it just makes him cry even harder. He buries his head into Wilbur’s shoulder, crying hysterically into the rough fabric of his coat. His last sentence comes out as nothing more than a whisper, broken and defeated by the pain in his heart.

“F-fuck you guys for promising you would never leave me, a-and then doing it anyway.”

~~~~~~~~~

Wilbur sits in silence as Quackity continues to sob into his chest. He watches the last of what was once Kinoko Kingdom burn and crumble, until there is nothing left but smoldering rubble. The sight was almost soothing, like the quiet that comes after a hurricane. He watches as the sun rises, the night turning into a pale, eerie dawn, sky almost grey, and the tide lapping gently against the shore. The only sound for a long time is Quackity’s uneven breathing, along with the occasional hiccup, until he hears voices in the distance. “Quackity, be quiet,” Wilbur hushes him. Quackity looks up, about to say something when the voices get louder in the distance. They both pause and look over at the remains of Kinoko Kingdom, just as Sapnap and Karl emerge from the tree line. Wilbur hears Quackity suck in a breath as they watch the couple’s faces fall in horror. Karl immediately runs forward, and even from this distance, Wilbur hears him gasp and say, “Oh my god, what happened?”. Meanwhile, Sapnap remains silent, shock plastered across his face as he takes in the rubble. Karl turns back to his fiancé, and Wilbur sees the moment Karl’s shoulders sag and his head drops. “It’s all gone, Sapnap,” he hears him say, and then Sapnap is running forward to catch Karl as he collapses into his arms, crying quietly. Sapnap just bundles his lover up into his arms, tears streaming silently down his own face. After a moment, Sapnap begins to lead them back into the forest, presumably headed for a place to stay near everyone else.

Only when the pair have gone, does Wilbur notice the whimpering. He looks down and finds that Quackity is crying again, quietly this time, and is already staring up at Wilbur. He clutches Wilbur’s jacket and stares at him, eyes pleading for an answer.

“W-why don’t I feel better, Wilbur? Why did that make me feel so much worse?”

And because he doesn’t have an answer, Wilbur just embraces him once more, holding the man close to his chest as he cries.

~~~~~~~~~

“Hello Quackity of Las Nevadas, where have you been?”

If Slime notices Quackity’s puffy eyes, he doesn’t say anything. Wilbur had left him in the same place they began their journey, by the sign at the entrance to the nation. Quackity had been hoping to sneak back in undetected, but of course the innocent creature had been waiting for him at the base of the tower. At least it wasn’t someone like Foolish or Fundy, who would’ve been able to see right through him in his current state. Quackity runs a hand through his hair, and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry Slime, I went out for a walk early this morning.”

Slime simply tilts his head, curiosity written all over his face.

“Where did you go?”

Quackity sighs, racking his brain for an excuse. It’s too early, and he’s too tired to be doing this. He gives up on trying to lie.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He starts making his way back to his tower, ready to fall into bed, when Slimes pipes up once more.

“It doesn’t matter? Why? Is it because you’re home now?”

Quackity stops.

He takes a breath, willing the tears down.

He turns around, eyes shining and gives his friend, his true friend, a small, sad smile.

“Yeah Slime. I’m home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sapnap kicks a stone out of his way absentmindedly, strolling through what’s left of his kingdom. He came back to see what he could salvage from the wreckage, after dropping Karl off at Bad’s house to rest. As he strolls by the beach, he stops to pick up a piece of wood lying in the sand. As he does so, he spots something shiny lying just on the edge of the water. He crouches down, and picks it up, only to find 2 engagement rings, each with an initial engraved on them.

He clenches his fist around the rings, heart breaking all over again. He’d recognize those rings anywhere, and he knows what it means, finding them here. He brings his fist up to his lips, pressing a kiss against it, hoping, in vain, that his other love will feel it. He looks out at the water, tears flowing, and prays that someday, they can be what they once were. For now, he places the rings in his pocket carefully, thumbing them over slowly. Before he leaves, he turns back to look at his kingdom once more, and whispers,

“I’m sorry.”

And with that, he heads back to Karl, his fiancé, his home .

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

55 notes · View notes

artzee-bee · 3 years

Text

Vanilla and strawberries| Mazikeen x cottagecore!Reader

Fandom: Lucifer

Summary: Maze and cottagecore!reader have breakfast together

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

~~~

Sure, Maze had never been to your house before and sure, you were a big softie in your floral mini dressed and puff sleeved blouses but a cottage in the middle of nowhere? You chose to live here? Of all places? It seemed inconvenient to say the least, the closest town being a 30 minute car ride away .

The house in itself was an old, rustic cottage. The brick walls were ornate with white trims for the windows and wallflowers that Maze didn’t know the name of but could already hear you in her head, picking up every individual one between your little fingers and telling her all about them. She smiled at the thought. A little pathway led her to your front door, which looked like something out of a fantasy novel: circular at the top, with a flower crown for decoration. Somewhat unsure, she knocked on your door and soon enough, you answered. Dressed in a light pink summer dress, flowy, but tight in the waist, you were as beautiful as ever, if not more beautiful in the morning light.

“Maze! You came!” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug

“Of course. What else could I have possibly been doing if not breakfast with my favorite girl?” you giggled. It wasn’t often that your girlfriend allowed herself to be soft and cutesy, so cheesy things like that meant more to you than they would have any other time, coming from anyone else.

“Come on in! I have almost everything set up.”

Your excitement was intoxicating and even though Maze felt out of place a minute ago, in her tight leather pants and black top, she forgot all about it when she saw your smile and heard the joy in your voice. It just reminded her again of why she loved you so much: you were the kindest, most positive person she knew and you helped her change for the better too.

“Take your shoes off please, I’ll bring you a different pair” you said, already searching frantically around the house. By the time Maza finished unzipping both her boots, you came back with a pair of bunny slippers, white and fluffy, looking brand new. A cheeky smile on your face suggested you knew that Maze would never normally wear anything like that but you still tried. To your surprise, she took them from your hands carefully and slipped them on

“How are they?” Maze made a few steps, looking down at them, examining everything from the pearly eyes of the bunnies to the puff ball at the back, imitating a tail

“Cozy?” she said unsure, making you laugh

“Come!” you grabbed her hand and led her down the hall and through the kitchen.

The kitchen was a mess, the counter was full of egg shells and spilled milk. An opened bag of sugar was sitting way too close to the edge and a gold spoon with pink details was peeking from the top.

You let go of Maze’s hand, going to grab two mugs from the cabinet, except when you turned around, you catch her playing with the dead rose petals that had fallen from the bouquet you had on the table

“Oh, yes.” you say “Should have cleaned those up a while ago” Maze laugh

“Is this the one I gave you?” she said, pointing at the few roses still alive in your vase

“Yeah. From our last date”

“In that case I can’t believe they survived this long”

“I take good care of them” Maze gave you a sweet smile . She was looking at you with love and compassion and you felt yourself melt under her gaze

“I know you do” Maze wrapped her arm around your waist and brought you closer to her, wrapping you in a tight hug. Your arms linked around her waist and your head rested on her shoulder. You inhaled her strong perfume, which reminded you of Lux. Of the dark and the people and the booze. It had never been your scene, until you found Maze. Now you felt a certain thrill when you thought about that place

“You know” you said “If we don’t go now the bees might get to our breakfast first” Maze giggled and nodded, allowing you to take her hand and lead the way. You wrapped your fingers around hers and pulled her up the stairs and through your bedroom.

Your bedroom looked just as Maze imagined it. The peach colored walls were covered in drawings and prints of flowers and artwork. Vines were spread out across the ceiling, little paper butterflies peeking from in between. Almost every corner, desk and chair in the room held a little potted plant. Right in front of her was your little balcony. You had two chairs and a little table there. As she approached, she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the endless field that was (partly) your back yard.

“It’s so pretty” she said, without even thinking much about it

“I know” you replied “You should see the sunset”

“I want to”

“You could stay tonight?” you replied nervously, praying to God she will say yes because you could not think of a better way to spend your night

“I will'' Maze replied enthusiastically. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, but you needed to focus back on setting up the table.

For the first time, Maze looked at the table you had prepared for them. It was filled to the brim with all sorts of food. Maze saw eggs and bacon and pancakes and a whole platter of cheeses. You prepared tea and fruits and all kinds of jams. Maze was amazed at how many things you were able to fit on there, but she was excited. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate anything other than take out and knowing you put so much work and effort into this breakfast, just because she was coming over, made Maze want to cry on the spot. She’s never felt this welcome anywhere before!

You two dug into everything. Maze loved hearing the excitement in your voice talking about the process of cooking everything on the table. She loved hearing about your painting and the interesting new book you were reading, by some philosopher with a funny name that you were really interested in. She didn’t exactly care for philosophy, she knew everything she needed to know, about life and death, but hearing you talk and watching all your exaggerated hand gestures was a kind of heaven she was never used to. She loved you. She’d told you that before but everytime felt like the first for her. The same nervous gitter and the anxious pit in her stomach, making her wonder if you were going to say it back. You always did. She watched the wind play with your hair and the bows on your sleeves, and felt the need to jump into your arms and kiss you softly. Feel the heat of your body and taste your coconut chapstick but instead, she scooted her chair closer to yours, just enough to reach out to hold your hand. It was warm and soft and Maze thought that if she wasn’t careful enough she might cut you with one of her rings.

You asked her about Lux and Lucifer and she told you everything there was to know. About Lucifer and Decker’s new relationship drama and about Linda and her baby and how much Maze wanted to hang out with the little baby more but she was afraid

“Afraid of what?” “That I will hurt him. Or that he might hate me and cry. I’ll scare him and we’ll never grow up to be friends”

“Maze, what are you even talking about?” your giggle was soft and full of good intentions “You are not as horrible with kids as you think you are, ok? Take Trixie for example”

“Trix is much older”

“Still a kid though. And she loves you” Maze couldn’t argue with you on that

“Look” you said, seeing that your girlfriend was still lost in thoughts, “ How about I give you some tips?”

How many of those tips actually stuck to Maze was up to debate but the sound of your voice was engraved in her head and in her heart and if she could listen to it everyday for the rest of her life, she would. She couldn’t help herself from reaching out every once in a while to kiss your lips. You tasted like vanilla and strawberries and your palm was cold against the back of Maze’s neck. When it got windy out, you brought a big knitted blanket from inside, and wrapped it around the both of you. Maze rested her head on your shoulder and tried to take in every little detail about that moment. She’ll need it when she replays this whole scene in her head, once she gets home.

#lucifer netflix #mazikeen #mazikeen x reader #mazikeen fluff #mazikeen imagine #maze x reader #maze fluff #maze imagine #lucifer

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fallen-gravity · 3 years

Text

Intellectual Adequacy

Stan hates to start any unnecessary conflict, especially when there’s a very real chance that Ford will be moving to California next year, but he knows deep down that if they don’t talk about this now then he’ll never have the courage to bring it up again.

“Wait,” Stan shouts to Ford, and he stops dead in his tracks.

Notes: In which one little plot bunny that was preventing me from getting any work done becomes its own rabbit hole.

I genuinely cannot believe that in the six-seven years I've been in this fandom, I've never tried my hand at the fix-it-fic where Stan and Ford just talk it out as teenagers, just like they should've in canon. I've seen a lot of different approaches, but I feel like I've yet to see one that tackles it from the perspective of Stan's own battle with his self-worth, rather than the actions he or Ford have already taken.

AO3

Stan hates the principal’s office more than anywhere else in the world.

He swears, he’s called down every other week for something that’s not even his fault. He punched Crampelter in the nose for harassing some poor freshman? Principal’s office. He talks back to a teacher calling his classmate stupid for forgetting an “obvious” geometry equation? Principal’s office. He accidentally drops his pencil during an exam and bends over to pick it up? He must be cheating. Principal’s office.

If you asked him, the whole idea of sending kids to the principal’s office is pointless to begin with. Oh, you did something bad, and now we’re gonna make the big man in charge tell your mommy and daddy? How old do these people think they are?

Stan wishes he could say that this time is okay because they’re not even talking to him. They’re talking up a storm to Ford in there about another college scholarship and all the reasons why he and he alone would be the perfect candidate for some random school all the way out in California

But it’s not okay, because the longer Stan sits in the dumb waiting room the more he’s starting to feel like chopped liver. They’ve been in there for at least five minutes with no sign of stopping anytime soon, but every time Stan asks the secretary if he can just go back to class already she dismisses him with a wave of her hand and it’ll be your turn soon, sit back down.

He’s thinking of just sneaking out the next time the secretary buries her nose back into her magazine. It’s simple: just wait for her to pull it out from her desk, sneak by as quick as he can, and slip out the door and back to class before she can even notice he’s gone.

He stands from his chair, pretending to stretch and preparing to execute, but freezes solid when he hears his name being spoken from within the principal’s office.

“…What about our little free spirit Stanley?”

It’s Ma, and whatever it is they’re talking about in there, she isn’t happy about it. Frowning, Stan glances over at the secretary to make sure that she isn’t staring at him, and presses his ear to the office door to listen to their conversation more carefully.

The principal laughs in response. “That clown? At this rate he’ll be lucky if he graduates high school”

Stan’s taken aback by the harsh choice of words, but if he knows Ford, then he won’t just sit there and let the principal talk about him like that. He presses his ear further into the door, waiting for Ford to interrupt the principal’s rambling about how he’s never going to amount to anything with you just don’t know him like I do, or something along those lines, but it never comes.

Not a single interjection that…anything he’s saying is wrong. Not from Pa, not from Ford….and not even from Ma.

They don’t…all really believe that, right?

There has to be something else he’s missing. He bets they’re defending his honor right now, and the reason they’re not making a big scene about it is because they’re in public.

Yeah.

He’s got nothing to worry about.

He peeks into the window, expecting to see Ma glaring daggers into the principal, or Ford silently cursing him out behind his back, but what he’s met with is so much worse. Ma and Pa are exchanging warm smiles, and Ford is frantically shaking hands with the principal, beaming brighter than Stan’s ever seen in his entire life.

Matter of fact, Stan’s not sure he’s ever seen any of them look so happy in his entire life.

He’s worthless, he’ll never go anywhere, and they’re all smiling about it.

Stan’s heart drops to his stomach, and he slides to the floor to join it.

Is this some kind of cruel joke? Were they expecting him to listen in on their conversation? Is this their cruel workaround of telling him he’ll never amount to shit?

He sighs.

He stays there on the cold tiled floor for what feels like hours, contemplating all the times he’s been called dumb, or stupid, or a terrible influence on his brother. All of those times when he could brush it off just because it was coming from someone he didn’t care about.

But worthless?

Behind his back, spoken directly to people he loves, and they won’t even bother to defend him?

That one’s new, and if Stan is going to be completely honest with himself, it’s much harder to brush off his shoulders than all those other times.

Stan doesn’t even notice the office door opening until it nearly smacks him in the back of his head. He quickly jumps to his feet and brushes himself off, pretending the best that he can that he wasn’t just eavesdropping on them for the past ten minutes.

“Stanley!” Ford comes bursting out of the room, his grin threatening to split his face in two. “I just received the most incredible news! The admissions team at West Coast Tech heard about my science fair project, and-”

The beam suddenly slips from his face, replaced with some sort of mix of confusion and concern. “Is...Something wrong?”

Stan rubs at his eyes to make sure he hadn’t started tearing up without realizing it, but no, his eyes are bone dry.

Curse Ford’s stupid ability to read his mind.

Stan covers up the gesture of rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, and stretches his arms in the air. “Nothing except you taking forever in there” he flashes a fake smile easily. “Talk about a blabbermouth, am I right?” Stan gestures towards the principal with his thumb.

Ford laughs, and returns his gaze to the pamphlet in his hands. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think he’s so bad”

Stan opens his mouth to quip back, but Ford doesn’t seem to be paying much attention anymore. He’s just staring at that dumb pamphlet, his grin slowly but surely returning to his face again.

Instead, Stan shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, turning his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, I guess you’re right”

~~~

Stan feels like he’s in a haze for the rest of the day. Even when he tries to focus on class to take his mind off of things and redirect it on anything else, he can’t get his mind to stick. Not even final period gym class can save him, which is really saying something, because the gymnasium is usually the one place where he thrives.

Worthless.

The word won’t stop bouncing around in his skull, hitting him where he’s most sensitive.

It doesn’t help a thing that Ford is dead silent on their walk home from school. He’s usually chatting up a storm to Stan about stuff he doesn’t really understand, and under normal circumstances Stan can’t wait to get home so he can bury his head in his pillow and drown out the sound of Ford’s babbling.

But today he’s not even looking in Stan’s direction, just burying his nose in the West Coast Tech brochure with stars in his eyes, and now Stan wants nothing more than to hear Ford babbling on about his advanced physics classes.

It’s almost insulting.

Stan sighs, and lightly taps on Ford’s shoulder to catch his attention. “Can we talk?”

“Hmm?” Ford blinks, like he needs a few moments to readjust to reality. “Oh! Of course. I was actually planning on asking you the same thing” he places the brochure in his pocket. “Same place as always?”

Stan nods. “Same place as always”.

It’s a quick change of direction and a shortcut to the beach before they find themselves on their old swing set. By now they’re both too heavy to use it properly without a risk of snapping it, but they still find it’s a good place to go when they just need to get away and talk.

“You’re not really thinking of going to that stuffy old school, are you?” Stan asks as soon as Ford sits on the swing beside him. “They’ve gotta be crazy if they think four more years of essays and exams are better lookin’ than tanned babes and gold chains. We’re so close to finishing up the Stan-O-War. Soon as graduation rolls around we’re outta here, just like we always promised”.

Ford chuckles. “That is a nice thought, but…” he pulls the brochure out of his pocket again, and unfolds it for Stan to see. “You have to understand that I can’t just pass up an opportunity like this. Maybe I don’t need a degree from any old state school, but this is West Coast Tech we’re talking about!” he beams, the stars returning to his eyes. “They’ve got cutting edge technology and multidimensional paradigm theory”

Stan rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but admit to himself it’s nice to have his brother back again after an entire day of radio silence.

“Beep boop, giant nerd robot oncoming” Stan punches Ford in the arm.

Ford’s grin only widens. “I figured you’d say that, but it’s too late to change my mind. The head of admissions already flew in this morning, and with my go-ahead they’re going to check out my science fair project later tonight and let me know then and there if they want me at their school”

“Well that seems kind of harsh” Stan quips. “What if they say no?”

Ford shrugs. “Well, then it’s like you said. If they don’t want me, you and I sail off on the Stan-O War and never look back”.

Stan frowns at the strong emphasis on if. He really thinks he’s going to get this, doesn’t he? Stan can’t exactly blame him when he’s been the reigning valedictorian of their class every year since they were kids.

“And if they say yes?”

Ford grins. “Well, then you better visit me on the other side of the country” he punches Stan in the shoulder, and stands to his feet without saying another word.

Stan can’t bring himself to join him. He knows that Ford didn’t mean anything by it, but he can’t help feel wounded by his brother’s implication that while he’s off in California having the time of his life, Stan’s still gonna be stuck living with their parents in New Jersey.

It’s just like their principal said. He’ll never amount to anything anyway, so why wouldn’t he stay in New Jersey? Where else would a worthless piece of shit like him end up?

Stan shifts on his swing and watches as Ford walks away, and he can’t help but wonder just how much of the principal’s tangent that Ford believed.

All of it?

Some of it?

Had Ford even been listening to what he said at all?

As he continues to watch his brother walk away, he can’t help the feeling in his gut that he has to know. He hates to start any unnecessary conflict, especially when there’s a very real chance that Ford will be moving to California next year, but Stan knows deep down that if they don’t talk about this now then he’ll never have the courage to bring it up again.

“Wait,” Stan shouts to Ford, and he stops dead in his tracks.

“Yeah?” Ford says, turning around to face him. Stan suddenly finds himself very aware of his heart loudly pounding against his chest, but he forces himself to squash that down. He’s never felt shy or anxious about asking his brother anything, and he sure as hell isn’t letting that start now.

“You don’t…uh,” he swallows. “You don’t think I’m…worthless, do you?”

Ford looks appalled. He neatly folds the brochure back into his pocket and starts walking- no, jogging, almost sprinting back to the swing set. He pauses in front of the empty swing beside Stan for a moment, like he’s debating whether he should sit down or not, but eventually he shakes his head and sits down anyway.

“What on earth makes you say that?” There’s a hint of anger to his tone, but Stan’s not entirely convinced it’s directed at him. “Why would I think you’re worthless? You’re my twin brother! What could’ve possibly put the idea in your head that I thought that?”

There’s a tiny voice in the back of his head screaming at him to back out, brush it off with a joke and have this conversation later, but there’s an even louder voice shouting at him that it needs to be had now.

Stan sighs. “I…overheard everything in the principal’s office today”

Ford blinks, like he doesn’t understand a word that Stan just said. “About…West Coast Tech? Is this because you’re afraid that I’ll get in, but you know you won’t because you’re not even interested in applying anyway, but you know you’re going to miss me, and you’re not sure if you can handle-”

“About me, Sixer!” Stan shouts, and tries his damn hardest to ignore the waver in his voice. “He practically called me a useless piece of shit directly to Ma and Pa and neither of them said a word about it!” He scrubs his hands down his face because he’s not choking up, not over something so pointless and stupid. “You’re going to travel the world and become the smartest person the scientific community has ever seen, or whatever, but me? Apparently I’ll always be stuck here in New Jersey to pick up after everyone else’s messes, because that’s all I’m ever good for”

Stan buries his face in his hands. He hadn’t meant to blow up, and he certainly hadn’t meant to direct his anger at Ford, but he just feels so hopeless, and he’s the only one around who’s willing to listen. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ford returned with anger of his own, or told him off for being selfish, or even if he just decided to stand up and walk away from him for being such an embarrassment.

The silence that follows is thick and heavy. Stan is so convinced that he must’ve driven Ford away that when he feels a hand on his shoulder he nearly jumps a mile out of his skin. When he finally pulls his hands out of his face to meet Ford’s eyes, his face is flushed pink and he looks…embarrassed.

“Stan, I had no idea, I…” he awkwardly pulls his hand away and grips tightly to the chain of his swing. Stan can see Ford’s face shifting through about a dozen different emotions at once. “I…must’ve been too focused on everything else to realize he was saying those things about you.” He shakes his head. “I know it’s not an excuse, but…” he sighs. “I’m sorry”

There’s another bout of silence between them. Stan’s half-expecting that to be the end of it, and for Ford to walk away without another word.

But Ford breaks the silence with a sigh, and when Stan glances over at him he’s staring down at the ground.

“If it’s any consolation...you’re much smarter than me in a lot more places than you realize”

Okay, now Stan has to laugh. “Okay, now you’re being too nice to me. You don’t need to lie to make me feel better”

“I’m serious!” Ford’s cheeks flush pink again, and he adjusts his glasses before returning his gaze towards Stan. “There’s actually been a fascinating number of studies about intelligence lately, and, well…” Ford’s face is turning redder by the minute, Stan swears. “It turns out that…there’s more than one type”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You’re losing me here, Sixer”

“Well, you see, I thrive in academic intelligence. Math, science, history, you know, school stuff. That’s the most commonly known type of intelligence because a lot of our formative years are based on it”

Stan doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrow even further.

“But,” Ford continues quickly, “They’ve also made discoveries about the existence of social intelligence”

“Social?” Stan blinks, suddenly finding himself significantly more interested. “You mean like talking to people and stuff?”

Ford nods. “Precisely. They say people with high social intelligence are much better at picking up on social cues, and can make friends with others much easier than those with lower social intelligence.” Ford kicks at the sand. “The reason social intelligence hasn’t been recognized is because it’s often mistaken for having a friendly personality”. His face flushes pink again, like he’s afraid he said the wrong thing. “Not that a person can’t have both, but…”

Stan smirks, nudging at Ford with his elbow. “Stanford Pines, are you calling your good-for-nothing brother intelligent?” He teases, but can’t help the genuine smile creeping to his face.

“Think about it!” Ford throws an arm into the air, the other one tightly gripped on the swing to prevent himself from falling off. “Every time Ma and Pa leave us in charge of the shop so they can go to Atlantic City for the weekend, who’s the one bringing in all the customers? Who’s the one selling out our daily stock less than two hours after we’re open? You are, Stan, just by being yourself. You know how to persuade people into buying our stock at ten times the listed price.”

“You can’t learn that from twelve years of public school. They can try to teach you, but at the end of the day it’s all about your ability to connect with people” Ford rubs at his arm. “I’ve tried teaching myself those kinds of tricks for years, but at the end of the day…” he shakes his head. “I’ve never been able to catch up.” He smiles. “I raise my white flag to you, Stan. You’ve outsmarted the smartest brother in the world”

Stan chuckles. “Try telling that to Principal Comb-over. He hears you saying the so-called dumbest clown in the entire school system is smarter than you and he’s going to cart you away to the loony bin”

Ford laughs. “You know, now that I think about it, there may actually be a way to tell him off for what he said about you and get away with it scott-free”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? How so?”

Ford smirks. “I think you should try to graduate out of spite”

Stan’s not sure he follows. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, think about it” Ford stands from his swing and begins to pace back and forth. “The principal called both of us down even though he only wanted to speak to me, and then he talked shit about you even though he knew you were sitting right outside his door?” he pauses in his pacing. “Stan, he knew that you could hear him. Maybe he didn’t intend for you to listen in when he was talking to Ma and Pa about my scholarship opportunity, but he knew you’d be listening the moment you were brought up in the conversation”

That’s…true. Stan was just about to sneak out before he heard them say his name.

“He’s expecting you to fail, and he wants to put it in everyone else’s head too. He thinks it’s the easy way out, because if you choose to fail out on your own than he doesn’t have to take responsibility for being such a shitty educator. It gives him the chance to say look how he didn’t even try instead of look at how we failed him.”

“But if you proved him wrong? Imagine the look on his face when he has to be the one to place that diploma in your hand. Imagine him having to look you dead in the eyes and tell you he’s proud of you. You’ll know he’s speaking bullshit, but he knows he can’t talk shit about you anymore without making himself look bad.” Ford smirks. “Matter of fact, imagine the looks on the faces of everyone who’s ever doubted you walking across that stage. Pa alone is gonna have a heart attack”

Ford’s smile softens. “I already know that you’re much smarter than you’re given credit for, and I think it’s about time that everyone else recognizes that too”.

Stan’s cheeks burn red, and he shyly kicks at the sand. “Heh, thanks. I appreciate it.” He says. “But even if I did manage to graduate, what am I supposed to do with a high school diploma? Every job application I’ve been skinning through recently says college, college, college”

“Well…” Ford taps at his chin. “Then why not go out for college?”

Okay, now he’s taking things too far.

“Pardon?” Stan mocks, because if Ford thinks that Stan’s going to willingly take four more years of classes than maybe he should be carted away to a loony bin.

“I’m serious!” Ford blushes. “Maybe not a high intensity school like West Coast Tech, but college is so much more freeing than high school, Stanley. It’s not class after class on subjects that other people tell you to take. It’s personalized. If you hate science class so much, you never have to take another science class again”

Ford’s blush darkens. “I know that school is a big drag and all, but if you asked me?” he averts his gaze. “I think you’d really benefit from business school. Charisma and social intelligence is the number one thing that big name businesses are looking for, and I know you’re filled to the brim with both. Ultimately it is your decision, but…” Ford fiddles with his thumbs. “Just…just consider it, okay?”

For a brief moment, Stan just wants to burst out into hysterical laughter. Ford’s been offered the opportunity of a lifetime at one of the best schools in the country, and he’s still taking the time to help out his good-for-nothing brother who’s been cheating off of his exams for the past ten years.

Instead he settles for a roll of his eyes. “Alright, Professor Poindexter, I’ll consider it”

Ford giggles at that, and for a few moments neither of them says anything, watching the waves gently lapping on the beach in the short distance. It’s a comfortable silence, a reassuring sort of feeling that Stan hasn’t felt in a long time.

The frantic beeping of Pa’s wristwatch interrupts them, and both boys flinch at the sound in unison. For a moment Stan is worried that Pa’s standing behind them having heard every word, but when he glances over at Ford, he sees him rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal that he’s the one wearing the watch, and clicks the alarm off.

“Pa made me borrow it so I wouldn’t be late for the presentation with the school board” he rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “I’ll probably give it back as soon as I get home tonight”

Stan smirks. “You still hate the sound of that thing too, huh?”

“I can still hear it in my nightmares,” Ford exaggerates, his eyes going wide, and the twins burst into laughter as they both stand from the swings and stretch their arms and legs to wake them up from sitting for so long.

Ford wipes at his eye as he fidgets with the wristwatch. “So…do you think you’re going to be okay?”

That in itself is a pretty loaded question that could take him all night to answer, but all things considering…

“Yeah,” Stan smiles. “I think I’ll be okay”

Ford smiles back, and gestures with his thumb towards the direction of the pawn shop. “Then I’m going to head home and get ready for my presentation. You coming?”

Stan shakes his head. “I think I’ll stay out here and just…watch the ocean for a little while longer”

Ford’s smile softens, but he doesn’t say anything else. He turns heel and walks back towards the house, and it feels as though a giant weight has just been lifted off of Stan’s chest. He glances back to watch Ford go, but finds comfort in the feeling that he feels nothing at all.

~~~

Nearly five hours later, Stan sits at home, watching television on the couch to pass the time. Just out of the corner of his eye he sees Ford slip into the kitchen and gently click the door closed. Stan shuts the TV off, and spins around on the couch to face his brother.

“Well?” Stan asks, though he knows he doesn’t even need to bother asking, given that Ford looks like he’s about to burst. With a shaking hand, Ford reaches into his pocket and pulls out a glinting white envelope.

If he’s trying to keep an air of mystery about it, he’s doing a really bad job, because all at once his composure breaks and the smile that spreads across his face looks as though it could burn out the sun.

“They loved me!” He shouts, excitedly pacing the floor. “They told me they’ve never seen anyone else like me!”

His smile is so contagious that it hurts.

Perhaps another day, in another timeline, Stan would take offense to Ford’s excitement to bounce off to the other end of the country without him. Perhaps he’d even lash out, or do something he would’ve immediately regretted.

But here and now, Stan couldn’t be happier for his brother if he tried.

#my writing #gravity falls #stan twins #stan pines #ford pines

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venhedish · 3 years

Text

Ven’s Masterlist of SPN Fic

I write mostly pre-series and early seasons Big Feels™ Wincest fic. There’s a lot of angst and pining here, but plenty of love and devotion mixed in with the darkness.

I always deeply, deeply appreciate likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs!

Wincest Fic

Stand-Alone

Yesterday is a Ghost I Believe In ~4.1k, Teen, Pre-series, Epistolary, Multimedia, Experimental There's an old shoebox under Sam Winchester's bed. It's been there almost as long as he can remember. He doesn't look inside it very often, but when he does, he takes his time. A multimedia collection of letters, journal entries, pictures, and other ephemera from a life on the road. .

That Monster, Love ~2k, Teen, Pre-series, POV Outsider, POV John Winchester, John Finds Out, Angst “You think you’re doing your boys any favors, raisin’ ‘em like this?” .

To Cure My Lonesome Blood ~8.8k, Explicit, Pre-series, Pining Dean, Angst, Bittersweet Ending Dean’s been sick since before either of them was born. The disease is incurable, written into his blood – the same blood he shares with his brother. If he’s not careful, the fever will spread like a fire and consume them both. .

Like Sand, Like Water, Like Sunlight ~1.7k, Gen, Pre-series, Mutual Pining, Angst, Pre-Slash Sea birds circle overhead and Dean wishes he had a camera. Sam looks so young, all of twelve years old, and exhilarated. Dean wants to hold this image in the chambers of his heart, but his pulse just carries it along; time is cruel that way. .

The Space Between Sense and Memory ~4.8k, Teen, Pre-series through Season 1, 5-and-1 Things There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t. .

Every Goodbye, all at Once ~900, Teen, Pre-series, Stanford Era, Pining Dean, Angst, Epistolary "Hey, It's Sam. If you're looking for my dad, you can reach him at 866-555-9352. If you're looking for me, leave a message." A series of voicemails Dean leaves at the number Sam left behind. .

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) ~6k, Explicit, Season 01, PWP, Scent Kink, Guilty Dean Winchester Once Sam was gone, Dean missed him in a way that was all-consuming, all the way down – so deep in his bones that he shook with loneliness some nights. And it was the familiar scent of his brother’s hair where it tangled warm against the pillows, his pulse beating under his skin and sending the fear of the hunt wafting off of him in waves that Dean struggled to hold onto the hardest. Dean really likes the way Sam smells.. .

Dawn is Coming (Open Your Eyes) ~5k, Explicit, Season 01, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together In which Sam and Dean suffer new wounds and stitch old ones back together. There’s an awful storm, a dead monster, an injury, and a whole lot of feelings. .

You put the Magic in Me ~9.1k, Explicit, Season 02(ish), Sex Pollen, Porn with Plot, Casefic “This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done for a case,” Dean says under his breath, leaning into Sam and scouting the crowd gathered around a dozen tables inside the little café. “Dude, relax,” Sam says back, eyebrows raising at his brother’s nervous energy. “I thought this would be, like, your thing.” He gestures vaguely to the women milling around inside. A long, vividly red banner hangs across the open french doors that lead into the space, emblazoned with the words The Oolong Tea Room Presents: Lonely Hearts Club Speed Dating! Feb 11-14th! Or; in which Sam and Dean learn a thing or two about chemistry. .

The Stars are not Wanted Now ~2k, Teen, Season 02, Episode Tag: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Angst, Death Rituals There was a body on the bed. It had been there long enough that the slanting light of morning crept into the room like an unwelcome invader and washed the world in a dream-shade of palest blue. But there were no dreams here; only death, only memory. The body on the bed was all that remained of Samuel Winchester, who had died in his brother’s arms the night before. .

Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts ~5.8k, Explicit, Season 03, Episode Tag: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Dark, Dub-con, Hurt No Comfort This dream-state of living on pause and rewind leads to some interesting avenues of thought that Sam doesn’t mean to travel, but after a certain number of unrelenting Tuesdays, they just become inevitable. If Dean dies every day—if his memories are wiped, or if they never happen at all—what could Sam get away with, if he wanted to? Could he dare to find out? .

In Sanguine Vita Est ~5.2k, Explicit, Season 04, Knifeplay, Dean’s Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort Everything was different now. Dean was here—back from the fucking dead—but he was a stranger in his own body. Scars gone, aches from broken bones that hadn’t set right vanished back into the void as if they’d never existed at all. He’d become a stranger to the whole world. He’d become a stranger to Sam. _ Dean asks Sam to help him heal after he returns from Hell. .

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Destiel Fic

Love Made a Martyr of Me ~500, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Past Sam/Dean, Angst Sam says yes in Detroit, and in the space of a single syllable, there's nothing left in Heaven or on Earth for Dean to love. Cas doesn't seem to care. .

The Sharp Teeth of the One You Love ~2k, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining “Quit bein’ a baby, Cas.” Dean’s hands were covered in blood, but they were steady as always while he worked to stitch Castiel back together. “I’m sorry,” Cas growled between gritted teeth. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience feeling pain.” He hissed again when Dean slid the curved needle back through the eight-inch-long gash that ran deep and bloody down Cas’s bicep. Castiel learns something about what it means to be human. .

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#ven creates #wincest #wincestiel #destiel #J2 #daddycest #spn fic #fic masterlist #my fic #long post #sorry #i just wanna be able to link to it in my bio

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emily-the-fae · 3 years

Text

Every Day is a Lullaby

A oneshot. This honestly came to my mind yesterday night, I do not know how well the idea turned out to be.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x OC

Warnings:probably language, blood, injury, background character death, brief mentions of sex, angst mith mix of fluff

Rated: T

Mr Ketch has many sides, likable and repulsing - but which one of his faces is truly his is sometimes an uncertainty even for him.

Harper reflects on the changes on their relationship as they get out of a hunt gone wrong. While Ketch reconsiders some of his past choices... And reasons why he is still alive.

If he's a serial killer

Then what's the worst

That can happen to a girl

Who's already hurt

I'm already hurt

The first time Harper met him was a coincidence. It was long before the whole nephilim thing, long before she found out what kind of man he was, what kind of hunter he was. Yet even back then in the span of their first couple of meetings she felt he was no good.

A stupid hunting coincidence.

Harper was not used to hunting alone. She did that to herself - separated herself from the Winchesters. However much she loved Sam and Dean, she could not bear continuously being around them, not after everything that happened. Not after Charlie. Because no matter what Dean said or how Sam reassured her - it was her fault. Charlie was a great friend. Charlie had the brightest soul. Harper was late to help her and now Charlie was no more. It was all Harper's fault.

Driving away and going head first into hunting was the outmost Winchester way of dealing with the guilt and grief. Hunting alone while slowly coming out of her lowest phase - those were the circumstances under which Harper met Arthur Ketch.

The first time it happened it was a coincidence - two hunters choosing the same target is not uncommon. Harper was already on spot and all in the fight when he arrived. "Are you insane going into a whole vampire nest alone?" - those were the first words she ever heard from him. She might have been slightly insane, but he sure was a damn psycho. To be honest if not for him she would have probably ended up dead or turned in that vampire nest that night. Harper hates being honest about it.

The second coincidence happened just a few days after the first one - she would later on doubt if it was a coincidence at all. Perhaps it was. Harper would never really know - what she did know though was that he still had a small scar left above his left eyebrow - a mark of where she hit him with the grip of her gun, thinking it was the witch that was creeping up to her and absolutely not expecting to hear a male voice swearing after her blow. Arthur had not known her for 24 hours in sum and they were already making a scene after a hunt - Harper almost pitied she had not knocked him out straight away.

What happened on the next day? He caught her in the town and suggested to team up to avoid "future confusions". Rule number one how to become friends with Arthur Ketch: hit him in the face. Harper wasn't going to become friends with him - with any hunters for that matter - but fate seldom cared what Harper was going to do anyways.

Harper definitely lied to herself when she said that they were going to be only friends or that she was going to hate him after all the British Men of Letters invasion story. She didn't. Not with the way they met in the first place: him ripping her out of the claws of the angry remnants of the vampire pack - slightly concerned greyish blue eyes and a British accent was what greeted her at dawn that day, even though mid in fight she had accepted she would not see the sun again. It seemed symbolic how he saved her from giving up, from herself. And certainly not after the way their relationship went from mutual curiosity to blind semi-professional trust. Harper did not need a "friend" to console her: if she had wanted that she would have stayed around Sam - she needed someone unfeeling but understanding enough to see through her and consciously let it be.

She remembered it clearly - three hunts into their relationship - a month after their first encounter - they were sharing a hotel room. Two beds, late night after a hunt, she lied on her side and quietly cried. It was a demon hunt. The memories were too much. Arthur came into view and stared at her for a couple of moments before walking to his own bed.

- I'd say you can talk about it when you want to, but I doubt you will ever feel the necessity, - a brief caress of his hand against her shoulder. He did not try to relieve her, he allowed her to get to her own way of coping. For that Harper was grateful more than ever. - We all have skeletons in our closets, it's the downturn of the job.

Oh, dear Arthur, we are both now aware you knew far too well what you were talking about. Harper doubted any hunter had a closet cemetery as large as Ketch's.

Yet... Even after that - the awkward reuniting with the Winchesters, being pulled away from him as she came back to her old friends and witnessing, luckily from a safe distance, how the man she grew to trust without actually knowing him, uncovered darker and darker sides of his personality. What was worst - after she refused to join the BMoL, he would continue to sometimes keep her hunting company, going on like nothing happened. Like nothing changed. Why worst? It let the image of the heartless killer that she should have seen before her now connect and combine with the image of the man who would patch her up on her darkest nights and put a firm hand on her shoulder when Harper was too deep in memory to restrain herself. His presence around her became a reassurance in itself - because he did not have to know to understand. And because he simply had not been there - looking into his eyes Harper wouldn't get reminded of the times when everything was still right, wouldn't get reminded of that one time everything went very wrong. Probably those were the main qualities that helped him win a spot in her heart. Those and his unending casual flirting.

And now? After everything was over, after his very dark side was revealed, the confessions were made and the redemption was played, what did she think of him? The hunter, turned out just a very well trained assassin - he had served the British Men of Letters, he had served Asmodeus - now here he was separated from any commanding he ever had, living a hunting life of his own and sometimes collaborating with the Winchesters. Therewere many dark moments forgotten for the sake of peace. Many more had yet to come up - judging by how Ketch treated his own history and interests of others.

" - I wonder where Mick went, he was always so nice... Nicer than you, anyways. Pity he went away all of a sudden, - Harper mentioned once after a hunt.

- He did not go anywhere. I shot him in the head just like Hess ordered, - Ketch seemed calm and cold as steel. " Sometimes Harper thought that leaving BMoL would change him, but moments like that she realized how slowly the changes - if any - would have to occur. That night she simply walked away, not saying another word.

If anyone ever asked Harper how Arthur's spot in her heart had shifted after all the mess he had caused? She would say that he never even had one... And think that truth to be told there was no flame hot enough to burn him out of her chest - his name carved on her ribs would have been easier to get rid of than the bittersweet affection she harboured for the moral wreck of a man named Arthur Ketch.

If he's as bad as they say

Then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes

I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt

Despite that Harper never dared pursue a relationship. Why? She was very sure with people like Ketch the only right strategy was not to expect them to be capable of attachment. The flirting, the sweet promising looks he would give her after a well-accomplished hunt... Harper would dream of believing them to be genuine. She was very well aware thinking him in any way genuine was a risk she was not ready to take. She knew Ketch would not mind letting that affair happen - he made that quite clear. She also knew it would mean absolutely nothing to him apart from some company and a warm body in his bed. Arthur Ketch was cold, unemotional and taught himself well not to get attached to anyone - and even if that was not true, he tried his damn best to make it seem so.

Harper sometimes hoped she saw it in his eyes: a silent "please keep safe" when they would part after a hunt, a sparking "I missed you" when they would meet once again. Arthur sometimes hoped she would see it too - very deep in his soul, deeper than he would ever be able to admit even to himself.

In other words, the outcome of the new hunt would have presented itself sooner or later anyways. They were actually quite lucky to have it present itself the way it did.

The werewolf did not seem such a hard target - away from bigger packs, alone terrorizing the neighborhood - just because he could. Problem and solution crystal clear - a hunt where one clearly sees the root of evil is a blessing for a hunter that's used to all the versions of heartbreaking stories. What Harper did not so clearly see was the gun in their opponent's hands. To be more precise: she did see it, but a little too late.

Two gunshots rang at the same time: her silver bullet hitting right into the monster's heart and his normal one - ... Ketch fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor: his left shoulder bled, the bulletproof vest, even though being pierced in the thinner area, had preserved him from being too deeply injured - but not kept completely safe from wounding.

Several seconds of silence - making sure the werewolf is not a threat anymore - realisation and fear finally hitting Harper.

- Ketch?... Ketch?!... Arthur! - the hunter was too disoriented to answer and his silence was taken as a bad sign. - Oh Lord, Arthur, no! - gone are the self-restraint and professional coldness: the moment she sees blood on his chest, she rushes to his side, forgetting about everything else in the world. She needs to make sure he will be fine. He has to be. - Arthur, please, don't die on me! Arthur! - she calls for his attention, the hunter slowly regaining his senses.

For a moment there he believes he hears Tony. This reminds him of some of his unlucky hunts from the years before, though back then he had certainly had it worse. Besides this definitely was not Tony.

Tony would have said "Ketch's down" and carry on with the hunt, eyes on the target, and when the deed was done she would pass him with a short "How is it?" - more out of politeness than genuine caring. That was exactly what she did the only two times he had been seriously injured infront of her.

- Ketch, answer me right this instant, don't you dare fading out! - panic in her voice, genuine. The idea of someone caring as much as to panic at the thought of his death seems too good to be true - for him at least. Arthur feels hands investigating his chest, checking for the wound: cold thin fingers running over his blood-covered skin. Not Tony - Harper.

- I'll live, darling, it's nothing too serious, - attempting to sound confident, but his voice is rasp. It's nothing serious, but it hurt nonetheless: the blow on the shoulder was much harder than anticipated and the bleeding needed to be stopped.

Harper looks into the light blue, borderline grey eyes - he is staring up at her, his gaze unguarded only for a moment that lets her see the uncommon softness and hope in his expression - just for a moment - she believes the things she guessed about him were true, she believes the pain visible in his eyes is true, only by accident revealed to her. The state lasts only a couple of moments - but even that is more than enough for his visible emotions to imprint into her mind.

Arthur Ketch was able to feel. Arthur Ketch could be in pain. Arthur Ketch was capable of needing help.

I said "Don't be a jerk, don't call me a taxi"

Sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat ooh-ooh

I just wanna dance with you

Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley

I just wanna hold you tight down the avenue ooh

I just wanna dance with you

It was a wonder that the hotel clerk did not stop them on their way - Ketch looked positively dying - Harper was quite sure there was no legal thing that could have happened to him that would have explained this appearance. This was the reason normal hunters chose motels: less suspicion. Harper briefly wondered where he got the money to maintain his former lifestyle, since he was stripped of the BMoL funding, but she guessed there were other sources on his side and he was just too stubborn to change his ways.

When they stumbled into his hotel room, Arthur made a move to drop himself on the bed, but Harper grabbed him by the collar swiftly, dragging him away in the other direction.

- Ketch don't you dare stain the sheets, they'll report us, - she mumbled, pushing him to enter the bathroom and dropping him to sit on the edge of the tub.

He would have laughed if the sudden movement had not caused sharp pain to shoot through his damaged shoulder, making him wince. Alexandra. He had wondered for so long whom Harper reminded him of and out of all moments they shared it was this that made him realise. The memory reappeared in his mind so vividly now.

"Artie, no! Don't go to your room, you'll stain your carpet! Mum will kill us!" - and the older girl held him under his arms, guiding him to the kitchen.

He still remembered it: the years before school, before Kendricks, him and his sister mostly alone in the house with parents constantly away. Alexandra had brought him up before Kendricks had. Alexandra had a lovely voice, she would read him bedtime stories, she would sing to him, she was kind and caring - probably the only human being in his life that ever seemed to care. When he went to Kendricks was the last time he had ever seen her... Well, alive. Alexandra was kind and caring - and that was probably the reason why she had not made it through the training. In fact her death might have been the only reason why he survived and made it to the top - having no one care about you has a benefit: you don't have to care about anyone too.

After his sister's funeral life had never felt the same and Arthur had been quite certain before that it was for the better. Now, watching Harper rush about, trying to find the medical kit to help him, he thought that he had been terribly wrong all the damn time.

How long has she known him? A couple of years, not more, but the relationship between them reached beyond the borders of friendship or companionship. That little american hunter - the first time he saw her he thought she was suicidal, the second one - bold and full of sass. The following months proved her well capable of combining both while turning out to be so much more, one of which being: to be able to love Arthur Ketch. Of course he knew she loved him - this was among those traits in her that he openly treated with polite contempt and deep down envied more than anything.

He watched Harper come to his side, sliding his hunting gear off his shoulders - her movements so gentle, her eyes filled with worry and guilt.

- I'm so sorry Arthur, I should have... - you're always sorry. You always think it is your fault and none else's. This was most probably the main reason why it was so easy for him to openly reject her feeling: they both knew she loved him, they both knew he saw it, he toyed with her so many times, being suggestive, flirting. "As long as I enjoy the physical aspects of having an affair, the emotional attachment that other people believe necessary to form is rather pathetic" - he told her once. He actually said that, those were his words. I would like to fuck you as long as you shut your disgustingly human little heart. She stared at him for a moment, her beautiful face almost successfully hiding the hurt - then turned away silently, shrugging her shoulders. He was being a jerk. Harper never stopped him from that, Harper seemed to take it all in and believe he was right, believe that her feeling for him was utterly pathetic. That it was her fault.

- It was no one's mistake, love, it was an unlucky accident. Besides it didn't turn out that awful, - he trailed off. She was cleaning his skin over the wound now, preparing to apply stitches. Arthur could sense a little shudder in her at the word "love". He was so used to saying it that he forgot about all the connotations it held. Lord, was he bad at this.

Harper continued her work silently. She felt him studying her face and prayed to be finished as quick as possible - she did not need another heartbreaking hope and she had already made the mistake of looking into his eyes that night. When the last stitch was done, she turned away to put the materials aside and sensed him straighten up behind her back - Harper felt he wanted to say something else, but she could not give him that opportunity. She almost thought he would die that night - seeing him on the floor made her blood run cold - she did not need any more pain to add to the aftermath of the shock.

- I'm going to my room, but please call me if you feel worse during the night, - she spoke, not turning to face him, ready to walk out of the bathroom. Harper felt his hand grab her wrist in a rushed movement and turned abruptly only to see him staring back at her with unguarded softness in his eyes. The only time she remembered Arthur look at her like that was when she twisted an ankle during the hunt all due to his mistake. It scared her a little to see that expression on him.

- Why won't you just stay to keep an eye on me? - his voice low, with an undertone she so often heard when he flirted with her.

- You're a big boy, Ketch, we both know that even stitching you up was superfluous, you can perfectly well tend to yourself, - a smile. Harper tried to brush it off jokingly, ready to make her leave, but his grasp on her wrist only grew stronger.

- Stay. At least for this night. Please, - the smile disappeared from her face. He sounded wounded, he sounded like he really pleaded. Harper broke away from his grasp, taking a step back.

- You don't need a... - she shook her head.

- But I do, - he stood up, taking a step towards her, not letting her increase the distance between them. His fingers came up to caress her cheek gently. - Harper, stay, - she shut her eyes, standing still and quiet for a couple of seconds, seemingly fighting back emotions.

- You don't mean this, - she said, looking up at him sharply and confidently, but in a moment, failing to restrain herself, she continues more quietly and softly. - Why do you have to be so cruel to me? - he could see tears brimming in her eyes.

They stood frozen in front of each other, her face so close to his, her eyes watering - not because of this particular evening, but because of all those times before he had behaved in similar nature. It was the first time she had so directly addressed the issue of her feelings for him. "Why do you have to be so cruel to me?" She seemed to be waiting for an actual answer. Why was she always so kind to him? Like he was normal, like he didn't hurt her? Arthur leaned down, his hand still cupping her cheek, his lips touching hers gently and firmly.

Harper closed her eyes - not as a girl would do in a pretty romantic movie - she shut her eyes, pressing her eyelids together, holding her breath, shuddering. A single tear ran down her cheek.

When they parted, though his face still stayed just a few centimeters away from hers, Harper opened her eyes again, her breath shaking.

- Arthur...

His free hand circled her waist, pulling her closer to him, as his fingers slid away from her cheek, moving behind her head, running through her hair. Arthur leaned close to her ear, his breath ghosting over her neck.

- Because I hate how you make me feel like I can still have a life, like not everything is lost. I hate how you make me feel worth being cared about and able to care. I hate how you make me feel, - he said that rushed and quiet. Pressing his front to the side of her head, breathing deeply.

- And what if you are lying? What if this all is for the sake of one night? I'm tired of guessing if you have a soul or not, Arthur, I'm too worn out, - she wispered after some time, leaning her forehead into his uninjured shoulder.

- Then trust me this one time. I promise. Please.

- Why?

- Because I need you. I need you to feel alive.

Arthur felt her let out a deep breath, her petite form pressing itself to his, her arms sliding behind his back to hold him close. She raised her head, freezing for a moment before their eyes met, then leaning up - their lips meeting now less gingerly than the first time.

- Does that mean you'll stay?

- You're such an asshole, Ketch...

- I know.

Harper hid her face in his chest, sobbing quietly, her form shacking, worn out both physically and emotionally. Arthur kissed her temple softly, caressing her back, for once feeling like he did everything right. For once feeling like they had a chance.

Happiness is a butterfly

Try to catch it like every night

It's escaping from me into moonlight

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #arthur ketch x oc #this is written half at night and half on school breaks please don't judge me #i havenot revisited this fandom in such a long time #arthur ketch x reader #arthur ketch #sam winchester #dean winchester #british men of letters #angst #happiness is a butterfly #lana del rey #oneshot #songfic

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