#Nature newscasters

[cyanwyrmy]

Woah! We can’t broadcast THIS on the radio!

But in all silliness, I loved the WH Julie update! Of course, I had to draw this scene in particular for obvious reasons 💌🌸

[window-to-oblivion]

Nature newscasters on the scene!

I love these two goofballs so much and honestly the whole radio broadcast was just so much fun.

Also this drawing somehow managed to break my drawing program so that's fun. '':) I'm gonna try to get it to work cause I have so many sketches I wanna colour for the update. Stay tuned (;

[shadowthief78]

Well, folks, it's about that time of week again: Don't forget to snooze your Tumblr Lives before some accident happens!

[xmyanxi13]

Watch "Tommy Boy" on YouTube

https://t.co/3QYUgJkxHX

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100089780920707

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ thinking of summer slasher!pazzi...

best friends to lovers!pazzi. men & minors dni.

cw: slight gore, sexual tension, light sexual content, manipulation, morally ambiguous!p, morally ambiguous!a, the power of lesbians vs murder, unhealthy relationships bc y'all...p is killing people. but she loves her girl.

notes: i did not intend for this be 10.2k when i started. so, there's that. as always, feel free to give me all of your thoughts in my inbox. let me know who you think the other killer is. i try my best to respond to it all.

p.s. please don't date your best friend who's obsessed with you if she's murdering people, no matter how beautiful and charismatic she is.

okay, love you.

𓇼 it’s one of those summers marked by memories smeared with heat and a lazy humidity that fills you with a sun-soaked exhaustion. the girls are taking part in a training camp for the season. they flush with warmth and glitter with sweat, muscles flexing under tanned skin as they stumble in and out of cool gyms and concrete courts. the best parts come after when they lay alongside one another, tan lines left behind by the tightly tied straps of their bikini bottoms, slices of sunburned skin coming up rosy despite the efforts to slather on sunscreen. 

𓇼 the world is safe here. they are safe here. they know one another, can recognize one another by laugh—morgan’s is sweeter, clear like a bell. kk’s is child-like, loose giggles with a rise in the middle. they know who is standing above them by the slant of a shadow. this perfect space, the smell of it will haunt them forever: something deep blue, sticky with coconut, cream, and vanilla. a memory of artificial fruit smoke and the moon shape of golden thighs atop golden thighs.

𓇼 at the center of it all lies paige with her river of blonde hair only growing blonder in the sun, her violet swimsuit revealing perfect scoops of sun-darkened skin. she keeps her sunglasses tucked right on top of her head, her toned stomach flexing in and out as she rotates on the soft blanket they have spread out on the grass (there are no more chairs). 

𓇼 her shadow, azzi, has her head right on her thigh. she feels bleary and disoriented, the sun shining down with a strength that feels personal. her swimsuit is sugary baby pink, a sweet match to the girl lying underneath her. her curls have been dragged into a high bun in frustration, baby hairs slick against her neck as she sweats. her belly piercing sparkles, calls the eye to the soft dip of her hips and the thin strip of her bikini bottom.

𓇼 paige is terribly hot below her but she wouldn’t move azzi for anything, instead pressing loose strands out of the other girl’s eyes as azzi tries to sleep. 

𓇼 eventually azzi rolls over, patting a hand loosely on paige’s stomach as a thank you for being her human pillow. paige grins, gives in to her boyish nature and pinches the curve where azzi’s thigh meets her ass. 

𓇼 “you’re such a fucking teenage boy,” azzi murmurs. paige laughs, reties the strings of her swimsuit top. “you love me.”

𓇼 azzi does. it makes her stomach roll. 

𓇼 the world is safe here. they are safe here. and then they hear the news.

azzi can’t hear anything past the buzzing in her ears.

three female students found dead. 

the newscaster's voice snakes around her, and drags her to the pool’s tiled floor. her chest burns as she holds her breath, her heart close to bursting.  the world is watery and filtered bright blue through the pool water; the sky is an endless slur of pinks, oranges, and purples. 

the sun is setting, the world going dark, and there are three students—three girls—dead by knife at a camp nearby. three girls she knew in passing, had watched stretch and laugh together on the sands just before a friendly game of beach volleyball. 

the police had said they might’ve been dead for days, up to two weeks. aubrey had switched off the broadcast, visibly shaken and trying to spare the rest of them. jana had sat silent and still, frozen as the older girl pried the remote free from her grip.

she might be crying. with all of this water, it’s so hard to tell. azzi closes her eyes right as the pool lights come on and more water surges in from the jets, the chlorine smell made almost unbearable by the onslaught of the propellers. she has at most fifteen minutes before someone notices she’s gone—five max before paige realizes she’s slipped out from beside her. 

azzi stays under until her lungs scream, until she can’t.

until the burn in her lungs forces her up, air slicing hot into her chest as she breaks the surface. the sky is darker now, the last streaks of sunlight bleeding out into deep navy. the lampposts lining the pool deck have flickered on, turning the concrete a smokier grey and the water a deeper, artificial blue, shimmering against the tile.

azzi drags a hand down her face, slicking back her hair with wrinkled fingertips, and that’s when she sees her—paige, sitting at the water’s edge, feet dipped in, watching. azzi exhales, slow, tries to settle the way her body still hums with nerves.

“you good?” paige asks, voice easy, head tilting just slightly.

azzi doesn’t answer right away. she pushes forward, the water parting around her as she swims to where paige sits. she stops between her legs, lets her head tip forward, forehead resting against paige’s thigh.

paige doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift away. just smooths a hand over the crown of her curls, fingers lingering at the nape of her neck.

“i’m really scared,” azzi says quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “i knew those girls.”

paige hums, a soft, knowing sound. “i know. jesus. i hope they catch those fucking freaks.”

azzi shifts closer, pressing her face into paige’s stomach. she clutches at paige’s back, now covered by an oversized camp shirt, fingers twisting in the cotton fabric. it’s a hold that feels instinctive, that’s symptomatic of the heavy intimacy of their friendship—something azzi’s done before, maybe a thousand times, but never quite like this. paige lets her, like she always does, one hand still at the nape of azzi’s neck, the other resting easy on her shoulder. 

she’s warm and solid. the kind of presence that makes azzi feel safer.

for a moment, they just stay like that, the quiet settling thick between them. the distant hum of crickets, the low lap of water against the mouth of the pool. paige is the first to break it.

“what, you think you’re in a horror movie or something?” she teases, but there’s something serious about her tone, too.

azzi huffs a quiet laugh, but it barely reaches her eyes. “maybe,” she mutters. “i mean the situation matches up.”

paige tilts her head, studies her. “you’d make a shitty final girl, you know.”

azzi scoffs, pulling back just enough to glance up at her. “excuse me?”

paige grins, slow, shifting the hand on her shoulder to tap a finger against azzi’s chin. “you’d be too nice about it. you’d try to help, and then—” she makes a little slicing motion across her throat. “lights out.”

azzi rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch, betraying her.

“lucky for me,” she says, resting her chin against paige’s thigh now, eyes flickering up, “i have a history of surviving things.”

paige hums, gaze first flicking behind azzi as if she can see the puckered scar over her knee from here, and then back to her face like she’s turning something over in her mind. then, with a quiet finality, she says, “hey. you’re okay.”

it should be comforting. it almost is. but it lingers, just a little too long.

and for some reason, it doesn’t feel like reassurance. it feels like a promise. azzi squeezes the sides of paige stomach and pushes past the unease in her own. 

“we both are,” she says.

𓇼 so, then it changes. no one goes anywhere alone, day or night. it takes some getting used to, the constant partnership. it’s more than they are used to, even as teammates. the extra measures come with their own irritations. 

𓇼 jana grumbles as she’s basically kicked awake by sarah to go to the bathroom with her at three in the morning. morgan’s nose twitches anxiously like a rabbit as she asks aubrey to come to get food with her at the mess hall, and the others try not to laugh when aubrey makes an off-hand remark about how she never realized just how much morgan snacks in a day.

𓇼 but azzi…azzi feels a little like the chosen one. because god, paige never complains. 

𓇼 if azzi wakes in the early morning with an urge to pee, paige is already unlinking their legs in their shared bed and sliding out to go with her. when azzi can’t sleep and sneaks to the living room of their cabin, just to read on her own, paige follows blinking weakly like a child with her bedding over her shoulder. she shoves azzi to the side, sinking down into the ancient cushions and bringing the blankets to her chin as she easily falls back asleep. azzi will go to say thank you, to tell her she’s sorry, but paige will only reach out a large hand and squeeze azzi’s sweaty one as if to tell her knock it off. it’s what i’m here for. and it's vice versa. 

𓇼 things seem to calm down. maybe it really was just a freak occurrence. camp comes to a close and the girls move on to another one, this time a larger one interspersed with girls from other college basketball teams. no one talks about the volleyball girls. it’s the one silent rule: don’t ruin a good time with the ghost of the girls you once knew, please! and lock the doors behind you when you leave the gym late!

𓇼 but azzi doesn’t forget, and it turns out she’s right not to—because it happens again. 

𓇼 the morning it happens, the air tastes wrong as if the trees have stopped producing oxygen entirely. the counselors try to shield them from it, but there's no hiding this—another girl, another athlete, this time from duke, found behind the equipment shed. the world slows down, gets sticky and hot, and impossible. azzi is struggling to breathe, a hand over her mouth as she tries not to throw up. her other hand is occupied by ice’s tight hold.

𓇼 there are whispers of coincidence, of copycat killers, of something worse. the camp directors hold an emergency meeting. no one is to leave their cabins after dark. no one is to be alone, not even for a minute.

the shower runs too hot against azzi's skin, but she doesn't adjust it. her muscles ache from today's drills, the coaches pushing them harder than usual, as if physical exhaustion might distract them from the horror unfolding around them. steam fills the small bathroom, fogging the mirror until she can barely see her own reflection.

she hears the bathroom door creak open.

"just me, princess," comes paige's voice, casual and easy. "kk and ice went to dinner early."

azzi relaxes her shoulders, not realizing she'd tensed them in the first place. "be out in five," she calls, rinsing conditioner from her curls.

when she steps out wrapped in a towel, paige is perched on the closed toilet lid, scrolling through her phone. her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose around her face. she doesn't look up.

"they found her shoes in the lake," paige says, voice flat. "emma's. the duke girl."

azzi's stomach drops. "jesus."

"yeah." paige tucks her phone away, finally looking up. there's something unreadable in her expression. "you know what's weird? i had a conversation with her yesterday. about three-point shooting form."

azzi turns away, pulling a clean t-shirt over her head. when she looks back, paige is staring at her hands.

"you okay?" azzi asks.

paige nods, but doesn't speak. azzi runs a hand down her back as she passes her, at a loss for words.

later, as they walk to dinner, azzi can't shake the feeling that something is off. they pass the equipment shed, now cordoned off with yellow police tape that flutters in the evening breeze. she looks away, sickened by the sight of blood in broad daylight.

morgan jogs up behind them, slinging her arms around both their shoulders. "hey," she says, voice strained and far too bright. "you guys hear they're thinking about ending camp early?"

"no way," paige says immediately. "they can't."

there's an edge to her voice that makes azzi glance over. paige's jaw is tight, a muscle jumping in her cheek.

"i mean, someone's literally killing people, paige," morgan says with a nervous laugh. "seems like a good reason to shut things down."

"that’s not—" paige starts, then stops herself. "whatever."

she pulls away from morgan's arm, walking ahead faster. morgan gives azzi a puzzled look.

"she's just scared," azzi says automatically, defending paige like she always does. but the words feel hollow in her mouth. “she’s probably worried this will follow us home, you know?” 

they're almost to the mess hall when azzi realizes she left her inhaler back at the cabin. the thought of going back alone makes her throat tighten.

"i forgot something," she tells morgan. "can you—"

"i'll go with you, ma," paige says, appearing suddenly beside them. her eyes look different in the fading light—sharper, focused, a darker blue than azzi has ever seen them. "save us seats?"

morgan nods and continues on without them. as they turn back toward the cabin, azzi feels paige's hand slip into hers, their fingers linking with ease. paige squeezes it once.

"you good?" paige asks, the same question azzi had asked her earlier.

"yeah," azzi says, but her heart hammers in her chest. "just freaked out about all this."

paige's thumb rubs circles against azzi's palm. "don't worry," she says, voice soft. "i've got you. nothing's gonna happen to you. swear"

with a nod, azzi breathes out and flashes paige a soft smile. as they walk, she stumbles over a stick and looks down her eyes catching on paige’s feet. her eyes narrow slightly, focusing on the dark stain on the cuff of the left sneaker—something that looks disturbingly like blood.

“az?”

azzi looks up, and suddenly she can't quite remember if it was there before.

𓇼 as expected, camp is shut down. the girls are silent on the bus ride back to their university, terrified in their own way. it’s mid-july so the school lets them move in early, assuaging their parents’s questions surrounding safety with vague answers that do nothing to assure them. 

𓇼 the school is eerily empty on their side of campus; the off-campus athletic apartments even eerier. they stick to their buddy system. jana & sarah. morgan & aubrey. ice & kk. they’re sectioned off. every girl has their other half.  without question, they pair paige and azzi. 

𓇼 it should be relieving, but it only brings more observations to the surface. paige is evasive, leaving their apartment at odd hours and coming back even later. she tells azzi not to worry, that she’s just putting the work in to start the season right. she flashes that hollywood smile, her teeth bleach white, and blows her off with a quip: “maybe if you answered my texts before the week passes, ma…”

𓇼 and azzi, to her detriment, always laughs—so easily pulled into paige’s warmth, into the intoxicating orbit of being paige buecker’s favorite.

𓇼 they settle back into routine. the fear fades. well all fear except the massive amount belonging to one azzi fudd. azzi feels gaslit by everyone’s desperation to get back to normal. do they not see the pattern? the killers allow them to relax and then slice someone else up. 

𓇼 “you have got to chill,” sarah says one night, the girls getting ready for a night out. it’s somewhere different than their usual haunt. “i need to see the world outside of ted’s or i might just die,” jana had grumbled, grinning when yanna let out a laugh. azzi’s gut had clenched at the mention of death. 

𓇼 azzi presses her lips together, tries to focus on the strawberry sweetness of her lip gloss and the vanilla vodka taste of her breath. still, they slip out, saccharine and sarcastic. “sorry, it’s a little hard to chill when there are killers roaming and they haven’t been caught yet. but sure, i’ll try my hardest to be cool for you.”

𓇼 jana’s eyebrow raises and its at that second when azzi looks up to see paige leaning against the wall, her own blonde brow raised in agreement. azzi closes her eyes and huffs, scrambling up to storm into the kitchen and get another drink. 

𓇼 sometimes the girls forget just how mean and snappish she can be, especially when she feels overlooked. but paige knows, which is why she follows her. “az—” she starts, and azzi is already filled with irritation because paige had disappeared around two am last night and this time she was the one not answering her messages. when she came back she’d offered no explanation, rolling her eyes when azzi asked after her. so azzi ignores her.

𓇼 “az, i know you can hear me.” at this point, all bets are off. she’s either murdering to her heart’s desire or sleeping with someone azzi knows nothing about. she doesn’t know which one makes her more ill. she ignores her best friend with fervor, reaching up to grab the 818 tequila placed dangerously at the edge of the highest cabinet shelf.

𓇼 her dress is deliciously mini, sequined, and a buttery yellow that paints a stunning contrast to azzi’s bronze skin. as she reaches higher, one leg leveraged on the counter to better push herself up, she hears paige let out a curt breath. she’s either getting annoyed or she’s seen the edge of azzi’s cream-colored, lace panties. 

𓇼 (it’s both.)

𓇼 they leave the house like that.

azzi’s pressed into the corner of the backseat, her cheek against the window, feeling the slow drag of streetlights flicker over her skin. the night is thick, humid, sticking to her bare arms, her exposed throat. up front, someone—maybe nika, maybe ashlyn—is laughing too loud at something on the aux, the bassline thumping low in azzi’s chest.

paige is next to her, legs sprawled, taking up space like she owns it. she’s been quiet most of the ride, one arm draped over the back of the seat, the other resting on her thigh, fingers drumming against ripped denim. azzi’s felt her watching, though—casual, weighty, something unreadable sitting low in paige’s gaze.

azzi shifts, her own patience thinning. “can you stop staring, please? thank you.”

paige doesn’t even blink. “then stop being so twitchy.”

azzi rolls her eyes, exhales sharply through her nose. “you’re so fucking annoying.”

paige’s fingers twitch, then move—quick, sure, catching azzi’s chin between them. not hard, but firm, the kind of touch that says pay attention.

the car isn’t moving fast, but everything inside it tilts.

paige leans in, close enough that azzi can smell her—the faded trace of her cologne, something clean, warm, uniquely her. their friends are right there, blessedly oblivious, but it suddenly doesn’t matter. the space between them is tight, electric, stretched thin like the air before a summer storm.

"azzi," paige murmurs, low, almost thoughtful. her grip tightens, just a little. "don’t piss me off right now."

azzi stills. it’s nothing, just paige being paige—too confident, too rough, all bark with a bite she only ever shows on the court. but something in the way she’s looking at her now—head tilted, eyes dark, mouth set like she’s waiting for something—makes azzi’s stomach flip, cold and hot all at once.

for a second, just a second, she’s scared.

and paige sees it.

the shift happens so fast it barely feels real. paige lets go, leans back, scoffs like azzi’s being ridiculous. the corner of her mouth lifts, teasing, but her eyes are still watching, still waiting.

"damn, princess," she says, voice easy, lazy, as she settles back into her seat. "you dramatic."

azzi forces a breath past her lips, unclenches her jaw. she looks away, out the window, at the blur of streetlights sliding past.

she doesn’t say anything.

but she knows paige felt it.

and worse—paige knows she did, too.

𓇼 they make up within the week. it’s not really the plan, but things change when another girl is found dead and gone. this time it’s a neighboring university’s tennis prodigy, her dark hair gleaming wetly across the pavement as she presses a hand to the neat crescent across her neck.

𓇼 she wants to go home. she wants paige. azzi ignores the guilty looks the other girls send her as she’s proven right. instead, her mind is whirling. there’s no connection between the victims, at least none that she can see. the killer (killers?) are doing this for fun, for sport. for sport. wait. 

𓇼 the campus becomes a ghost town as news spreads. three more volleyball players from neighboring schools are found dead within days of one another. the pattern is undeniable now—athletes being targeted, sliced up with precision. azzi's phone chimes constantly with texts from her parents begging her to come home. she doesn't tell them that she's secretly packed a bag, ready to run at a moment's notice.

𓇼 security increases on campus. guards patrol the athletic buildings, checking IDs at every entrance. the team is assigned a personal security detail that follows them to and from practice. it should make them feel safer, but the constant scrutiny just reminds them of the danger. morgan complains about it the loudest, says it's making her play worse. paige stays suspiciously quiet during these conversations.

𓇼 azzi starts noticing things. small things at first—paige's late night disappearances becoming more frequent, the way morgan tenses whenever the murders are mentioned on the news, how the two of them exchange glances when they think no one's watching. one night, azzi wakes to find paige's bed empty, and when she checks her phone, there's a text from morgan: roof in 10. it wasn't meant for her.

𓇼 a memorial is held. everyone wears black, everyone cries. morgan the hardest, paige the least. her face is almost carefully blank. when jana breaks down during her speech, azzi watches paige's expression—there's no sadness there, only impatience. that night, azzi googles "sociopath traits" and then immediately deletes her browser history.

𓇼 geno cancels practice after another body is found—this time it's someone from their own school, a soccer player azzi shared an english class with last year. the girls gather in kk and ice's apartment, seeking safety in numbers. "we need to stick together," paige says, her hand finding azzi's under the table, squeezing once. azzi notices how paige's eyes never leave her face, watching her reactions with an intensity that makes her skin prickle.

𓇼 azzi can't shake the feeling she's being watched. not just by paige, but by someone else—someone in the shadows. she starts looking over her shoulder in the hallways, jumping at every sound. "you're being paranoid, princess" paige tells her, but her eyes are watchful, protective. that night, azzi finds a note slipped under their apartment door: hope you had a great day, a! it might just be your last.

𓇼 she shows it to paige, who crumples it in her fist, jaw set in a way azzi has never seen before. "no one's going to touch you," paige promises, voice low and dangerous. "not while i'm here."

𓇼 they decide to go out again one night, all of them, a desperate attempt at normalcy. the bar is crowded, loud, and for a moment, azzi can almost forget. until she sees nika and paige in the corner, heads bent close together, nika's hand on paige's arm like she's stopping her from something. azzi watches them argue, watches paige's face harden before she stalks off to the bathroom.

𓇼 when azzi follows, she finds paige gripping the sink, knuckles white. "i can't keep doing this," paige says, not looking up. she stops when she sees azzi in the mirror. "can't keep doing what?" azzi asks. paige's smile is strained. "can't watch you keep torturing yourself," she says. "you're safe with me, ma. you know that, right?"

𓇼 azzi doesn’t answer her, because paige is so obviously lying to her. so, she only extends her hand. “c’mon. let’s go back.”

the bar is loud, too loud, the low hum of conversation mixing with the clinking of glasses and the occasional laugh. paige is over-compensating, those oceanic eyes flickering over the crowd with that signature cocky smirk, and azzi can’t help but notice the way her attention seems to settle on the girl at the bar, the one who’s been giving paige lingering glances all night.

azzi's irritation bubbles up in a slow burn. it’s not jealousy, of course. no, she’s just—well, it's not like that. she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, trying to hide the way her jaw clenches. she’s tired of watching paige flirt with random girls like it doesn’t mean anything. it doesn’t mean anything, she knows that. oh my god, there’s a killer on the loose. this is not the time. 

but something about the way paige does it, so casually, so effortlessly… it’s like she’s throwing it in azzi’s face, just because she can.

"hey, you’re gonna let that one get away?” the girl at the bar smiles at paige, leaning forward just a little too much. azzi rolls her eyes at the way it pushes her cleavage up. what a slut. 

she feels terrible as soon as she thinks it.

paige laughs, clearly enjoying the attention. "maybe, maybe not. who’s to say?"

azzi feels a knot tighten in her stomach, the familiar burn of irritation seeping deeper, until she can’t take it anymore. she storms out of the bar, muttering something under her breath about goddamn bullshit.

𓇼

the cool night air hits her as she steps outside, the weight of the world following her like the world’s most suffocating blanket. she walks fast, not caring if the killer is nearby. let them come. she’s tired. she’s tired of pretending like she doesn’t care, tired of watching paige flirt—no. she’s just tired of this. of living her life in fear, of housing a deep paranoia inside of her, and being unable to trust the people she previously loved without question. 

behind her, paige’s voice breaks through the quiet night. “azzi.”

azzi doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t even turn around. “i’m surprised you even noticed i left. what, got bored of flirting with your latest victim?” the choice of words is intentional, and azzi takes great satisfaction in the silence that follows.

paige’s footsteps speed up, and she’s beside her now, matching her pace. “what the hell is your problem?”

azzi rolls her eyes. “i told you, nothing. it’s whatever.”

“don’t give me that,” paige snaps, stepping in front of azzi, her arms crossed. “you can’t just walk off like that, azzi. you gonna walk around alone at night with a maniac on the loose?”

azzi bites her lip, prays for patience. “oh my god, paige. what-the-fuck-ever. go back to her. she’s waiting.”

and there it is—the envy slips out, biting and sharp. azzi curses herself immediately, but paige catches the hint, that flicker of something in her voice. she raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“oh. oh, that’s not fair.” paige leans in a little closer, her gaze dropping to azzi’s pursed lips, making azzi wish she could not feel the way her chest tightens. “you want me to go back, huh? c’mon. use your words, mama.”

azzi seethes, but she won’t admit it. “it’s not like that, paige.”

“sure, it’s not.” paige grins, leaning back casually against the nearby streetlamp, clearly not ready to let it go. “so you’re mad because…i’m just having a little fun. that it?”

azzi turns away from her, irritation boiling over. “you know what? i don’t need this,” she huffs. “i’m going home.”

paige lets out a soft laugh, but there’s something different about it. she’s amused, but there’s an edge to it now, like she’s not ready to back off.

“azzi, stop this shit. you’re not walking home alone, alright?” paige grabs her by the arm, pulling her back gently when azzi tries to shake her off.

“actually, i think i am. i don’t need you, paige.”

“mm, yeah, you do.”

paige steps in front of her, blocking her way again. azzi’s about to argue when she realizes—paige’s not going anywhere.

“get in the car, az.”

“no.” azzi stands her ground, but she’s not fooling anyone, least of all paige.

“fine,” paige shrugs, and before azzi can react, she pulls her over her shoulder with one swift motion. azzi squeals, kicking her legs, the sound of her protests echoing in the night.

“hello! put me down, paige! i’m wearing a mini skirt!”

paige doesn’t even flinch, holding azzi firmly with one arm. “ain’t nobody looking.”

azzi’s face flushes a soft, dusky red as paige strides to the car, not letting azzi squirm free. “stop it! paige madison, you better put me down right now.” she slaps paige’s back, half laughing, half annoyed.

paige doesn’t answer, just opens the car door and tosses her inside as if she weighs nothing, sliding into the driver’s seat in a matter of minutes. “there. isn’t that better?”

azzi’s breathing hard, a mix of frustration and something else. paige catches her eye, and for a moment, the world feels oddly still between them.

“whatever,” azzi mutters, but it’s a little softer this time, the tension in her voice barely there. 

paige’s smirk never falters. “you’re welcome, princess. feel free to use the drive home as a chance to fix that attitude.”

azzi grumbles, sinking back in her seat, but she doesn’t argue anymore. she just watches paige drive, the weight of everything pressing feeling a little lighter now that they’re together.

𓇼 the campus goes on lockdown when another victim is found alive but badly injured. she describes her attacker as tall, athletic, wearing a mask. "there were two of them," she says. "one did the cutting. the other held me down." azzi is in the library when the alert comes through. she tries to call paige but gets no answer. when she finally reaches her, paige sounds panicked. "where are you?" azzi asks. "on my way to you," paige says. "don't move. please, az, don't fucking move."

𓇼 but this is a slasher, so of course, azzi moves. she wants to get to her best friend who sounded terrified out of her mind. but when azzi steps out of the library, someone grabs her from behind. she feels the cold press of a blade against her side, hears a voice—distorted, but somehow familiar—whisper in her ear. 

𓇼 azzi’s chest heaves in shallow, terrified gasps, her fingers slipping against the cool steel of the knife handle as she grapples with her assailant. the force of the attack knocks her into the corner of the hallway, and she barely catches herself before she’s on the floor, hands shaking, blood trailing from a shallow cut on her arm.

𓇼 the world is spinning, the air thick with the acrid scent of fear and sweat. azzi is crying—really crying, the kind of sobs that break you down from the inside. it’s not supposed to be like this. she’s not supposed to be here, in this hell, with a blade pressed dangerously into her ribs.

𓇼 “please—please stop,” azzi wheezes, her voice breaking in ways it’s never broken before, raw and desperate. tears spill down her cheeks, streaking through her makeup, and she’s shaking—shaking so hard she can’t breathe, her lungs fighting the air like they’re full of water.

𓇼 “azzi!” paige’s voice cuts through the haze of panic, thick with rage. it’s a sound Azzi hasn’t heard in a while—feral, protective. it’s all the warning azzi gets before paige is there, hauling the killer off her. she’s never been more grateful for location sharing. 

𓇼 “get the fuck off of her!” paige screams, her grip vicious as she tosses the killer aside, sending the ghostly figure sprawling into the wall. her anger is palpable, her voice high with fear, her stress pushing her past the normal calm. azzi’s reminded that they’re both just young women, college students trying to stay alive in a way they didn’t have to before, and she feels so ashamed that she ever suspected her. 

𓇼 azzi, gasping for air, curls into herself, her hands trembling as she presses them to her stomach. she can’t stop the sobs. Every breath feels too hard, too sharp. the pain from the cut doesn’t matter. it’s the terror that makes her break.

𓇼 paige drops to her knees in front of her, her hands shaking, trying to find zzzi’s face. her phone clatters out of her pocket.  “az, baby, please. please, look at me. it’s okay, you’re okay.” the older girl is borderline hyperventilating, casting panicked glances over her shoulder at the limp body of their unknown attacker. “i need you to move your hands, okay? just move them. i need to see how bad it is.”

𓇼 azzi’s eyes are wide, glazed with fear, but it’s the tremble in her voice that cuts paige deeper. “it hurts, p… it hurts so bad. i don’t want to die…”

𓇼 the words slice rip paige like a bullet, her heart almost collapsing at the sound of them. she doesn’t care if she’s bleeding too. she doesn’t care about the rest of it. she just needs Azzi to be okay. “i told you, ma… i told you, you’re not gonna die, alright? you ain’t going nowhere, you hear me? i got you. i got you.”

𓇼 the killer groans, rising with a hand to their masked head. “fuck!” paige whispers. “az, baby, we gotta move. ‘m gonna carry you.” azzi groans in pain as paige practically hauls her in her arms. “i know. i know, princess. fuck, ‘m sorry.” 

paige is pulling azzi into the bathroom, her grip firm but not hurting. she's trying to keep herself grounded, trying to focus on the fact that at least in this moment, azzi’s with her. paige’s chest is caving in with the force of her fear—she can taste bile in her throat—but she’s trying to stay quiet.

“shh, shh, baby…” paige’s voice is low, like she’s trying to coax azzi to stay calm, and her hands are already moving over azzi’s skin, lifting her shirt to see the damage, all business, checking for injuries, feeling for anything that could give her a glimpse of what’s happening underneath. 

and then her fingers brush over azzi’s ribs, her stomach, and there's a faint tremble in azzi’s breath, and there’s this sudden tension between them, a pressure rising along azzi's spine. 

azzi’s heart is racing, her breath ragged, but it’s not just from the pain. the nearness, the intimacy of it, the feeling of paige’s hands on her skin—it’s like fucking fire. the tenderness of paige’s touch, the way she moves so carefully over her body, it should be comforting but it’s only electric. azzi can't stop the warmth rising in her chest, can't ignore the strange pull of need that refuses to fade, even here, even now, in the middle of this absolute nightmare.

“please don’t say it. don’t you fucking dare, paige,” azzi chokes out, her voice shaking, half laughing, half sobbing, as she wipes her eyes. it’s too much. too much emotion, too much fear, and too much everything.

“you’re good, ma,” paige mutters, her thumb brushing over azzi’s stomach, gentle despite everything. “i’ve seen you like this before, don’t act like it’s new.” there’s a certain gruffness to paige’s words, like she’s pretending she doesn’t know the effect of the situation.

azzi huffs a little, trying to hide how embarrassed she is, how exposed she feels under paige’s touch. “i’m not wearing a bra,” azzi whispers through her tears, an attempt to divert attention from what was happening. it’s absurd, even in the face of this horror, how awkward she feels.

paige’s grin is soft, the kind of smile that azzi wished was occurring in a situation better than this. “ma, i’ve seen it all,” she teases, that teenage boy bravado in her tone. “we’re best friends. besides, you look good, like always. that ain’t new either.”

azzi laughs, but it’s broken, her body trembling with the sudden onslaught of pain. the adrenaline is wearing off. the blood, the fear,—it’s all so real, but somehow paige’s words make it feel like a momentary sick joke at a really intense tailgate. she can’t help it. she hits paige’s shoulder, weakly, but paige just takes it, laughing a little.

“not the time, az,” paige says, trying to keep things light, but azzi can feel how her voice shakes, how she’s keeping it low to not attract attention. and then, just like that, the sound of a booted footstep outside the door cuts through the tension. paige freezes, her eyes darting toward the crack under the door.

azzi, still struggling to breathe normally, goes stiff. her hands instinctively press against her stomach, trying to hold in the pain, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

“shit.” paige’s voice is even quieter now, the heat between them suddenly shifting, turning to a survival instinct. “we gotta go. now.”

paige doesn’t give her a second to argue, her hand on azzi’s back, guiding her away from the bathroom door, moving like they’ve practiced this a thousand times before—silent, swift, desperate.

𓇼 they spend hours in the police station, paige getting more and aggravated as the officers keep pushing for answers they don’t have. “what do you mean did they leave clues? bro, isn’t this your job?” azzi focuses on not having a panic attack. its only when the officer that seems to irritate paige the most dares to insinuate that maybe azzi should’ve been more careful that she realizes paige may recreate the crime scene. 

𓇼 “come on, p. i want to go home.” paige shoots the man another glare and wraps a hand around azzi’s waist, using her phone to call them an uber. 

𓇼 if azzi thought paige was clingy before, she was absolutely oppressive now.

azzi steps into the bathroom, about to close the door when paige’s voice calls out, “azzi, come on now, let’s use our brains. you know i’m not letting you even shower alone after all this.”

azzi rolls her eyes, trying to shut the door but paige’s arm is already wedged in, blocking it. she sighs, giving in. “paige! you can’t just follow me everywhere.”

paige raises an eyebrow, her tone completely unbothered. “girl, this is a classic horror scenario. haven’t you seen psycho?” she leans against the counter, casually pulling her phone from her pocket.

azzi stares at her in disbelief. “are you seriously standing there while i’m trying to take a shower? get out! go sit outside like a normal person!”

paige grins, looking incredibly comfortable in the moment. she’s changed and swept her hair into her signature slick-back bun, her bright blonde strands falling in just the right way, a thin silver chain resting around her neck. her sweatpants hang low and loose, and the black tee paired with it does wonders to show off her biceps as she crosses her arms. 

azzi shifts on her feet, feeling a strange pulse in her chest. she’s not sure if it’s from frustration or something else entirely. her gaze flickers down to where a tan strip of skin is revealing itself just above the rim of those damned sweats, and she unconsciously squeezes her legs together. paige notices, her smirk growing wider.

“be lucky i ain't coming in there with you,” she teases, her tone cocky as she scrolls on her phone, clearly unfazed by azzi’s protests.

azzi huffs. “spare me.” paige looks up and raises a brow. “you wouldn't.”

paige shrugs, scrolling casually. “we’ll see. i’ll be right here if you need me.”

azzi folds her arms, feeling a little cornered by both the situation and the fact that paige looks really good right now. it’s enough to make her blush, and she tries to pretend like she’s not noticing. “paige, seriously. get out.”

paige smirks, her eyes not leaving her screen as she leans a little closer to the bathroom door. “that’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

azzi rolls her eyes again, clearly fed up but also a little flustered. she glances at paige, then starts to undo her socks, taking one off slowly like she's in no hurry to just give in to the absurdity of it all. the moment she takes the sock off, paige whistles loudly.

“god damn, look at you.” she crosses her arms again, shaking her head, completely over the top with her reaction.

azzi freezes, her face turning the color of a maraschino cherry. “read my lips, paige. get out or i swear to god!”

paige raises her hands in mock surrender, laughing at her best friend's embarrassment. “alright, alright, i’m leaving! no need to bring our savior into it. you know you love me.” she steps back, still laughing to herself.

azzi rolls her eyes, trying to pretend she's not still flustered, and waits until paige is out of the bathroom before she breathes a deep sigh of relief.

𓇼

when azzi finally steps out of the muggy bathroom, her satin robe clings to her body in a way she really wasn’t prepared for. it’s short, the fabric cool and slick against her skin in a lovely shade of emerald green, and it leaves very little to the imagination—especially with how it sticks to her curves, still damp from the shower.

paige looks her up and down as she passes by, eyes narrowing in an exaggerated once-over, her lips curling into a smirk. “my god, az, you really trying to make me feel some type of way right now, huh?”

azzi huffs and quickly pulls the robe tighter around her, trying to ignore the avid embarrassment creeping up her spine at the way paige is looking at her. “oh my god, can you not?”

paige raises a brow, stepping closer, still completely unbothered. “what? you look phenomenal, mama. stop trying to act like you don’t know.” she steps in front of azzi now, blocking her way, a wicked grin tugging at her lips. “you could at least act a little embarrassed. i’m not the one who came out here in the world’s shortest robe, babe. that’s your problem.”

azzi tries to shift away, but paige reaches out and places a hand on her stomach, pressing gently—so gently, though azzi still sucks in a breath. the wound. the pain of it.

azzi’s breath hitches at the sensation, and she freezes. “p,” she starts, her voice wavering just a little, “seriously, it’s fine. i’m okay. we’re fine..” but she knows they’re not, not completely. not when the pressure of her best friend’s hand on her body sends an inebriate mix of heat and anxiety coursing through her.

paige doesn’t move, her thumb running in soft circles over the satin. the moment hangs there, both of them silent and unsure. she looks azzi in the eyes, her cocky mask slipping, replaced with something more raw, more vulnerable than azzi’s seen in a long time.

“that was way too close, az,” paige mutters, her voice low and almost trembling despite herself. “i’m not trying to be disrespectful or anything, but i wasn’t—i didn’t think it was real, y’know? like, it was always happening to other people, but then it was you—and that shit scared me.”

azzi looks up at her, the words hitting harder than she expected. it isn’t what paige usually says. it’s not the same sure, settled paige who never gets rattled. this is different. and it makes azzi’s stomach twist in a way she’s not sure she wants to think about right now.

“hey,” azzi starts again, her voice a little more sure this time. “i’m okay this time. really.” but the words feel thin. 

paige doesn’t pull back. she presses just a little harder against azzi’s stomach, right where the wound is, and for a split second, azzi feels like she can’t breathe. but it’s not pain—it’s something else. something that makes her flush. paige stares down at her for a long moment before taking a step back, but not without catching azzi’s gaze. her voice is back to being light, the flip switched but the edge of uncertainty still lingering there. 

“next time,” paige says, crossing her arms and giving azzi an appraising look, “i don’t care if i gotta lock you in a damn safe. you ain’t going anywhere without me. not even to pee. got it?”

azzi laughs weakly, but it’s forced. she’s shaking her head, though the tightness in her chest doesn’t loosen. “yeah, whatever, paige. you really think you can keep me all locked up?”

“trust, i will find a way. better start growing those curls out and change your name to rapunzel,” paige says with her trademark megawatt smile. 

azzi just sighs, rolling her eyes. “you’re so—.”

before she can say more, paige adds, more softly, “i’m serious, az. i’m not letting anything happen to you. i look after what’s mine.”

azzi’s heart thumps hard in her chest at the words, and she looks away quickly, brushing a wet spiral of hair behind her ear to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. before she can respond, paige’s phone buzzes loudly, breaking the tension between them. paige glances down at the screen, and her expression hardens. 

“i have to go,” she says. “i forgot i promised kk help on an assignment.”

azzi gives her a small, searching look before nodding. she watches her go, her stomach beginning to crawl with that uneasy feeling that only arises when she senses a lie.

𓇼 azzi wakes to the sound of the front door closing. it's three in the morning, and paige is slipping back into their apartment, her steps careful, measured. azzi pretends to be asleep, watching through slitted eyes as paige peels off her jacket, revealing a white t-shirt stained with something dark. 

𓇼 paige's hands are slightly trembling as she stuffs the shirt into the bottom of the laundry hamper. when she turns, her face is hollow, haunted. she looks at azzi's sleeping form with an expression that's almost tender, almost desperate. azzi squeezes her eyes closed, a single tear rolling down her face like a saltwater diamond.

𓇼 but like all things do, it comes to a head. paige is right back at it—the lies, the exceptionally late nights, the brushing off of azzi’s concerns. “so, you can be worried about me, but i have to play it cool?” she yells at paige’s retreating back. paige turns to face her before she slips back into her bedroom. “you got it, ma.”

𓇼 it's stupid and slick and she’s so obviously being cute and—why the fuck is it turning azzi on?

𓇼 regardless she’s had enough. so, azzi takes things into her own hands. 

the sound of the front door unlocking makes azzi tense, fingers curling around the blanket draped over her lap. the tv hums softly, casting pale light over her bare arms, her collarbones, the rise and fall of her chest. 2:47 am.

paige steps inside like she owns the place. she’s all black and strategic shadow, hoodie zipped up, joggers hanging low, her hair twisted into that stupid bun that looks effortless but isn’t. there’s something different about her tonight, something undeniably thick in the air between them.

azzi swallows. something is off. something's been off. she tries to find her strength from before.

paige kicks off her crocs, stretches her arms overhead, and looks at azzi with that familiar, lazy smirk. "damn, you almost scared me. you waiting up for me, princess?"

azzi doesn’t answer. just watches. the way paige moves—calm, controlled, unbothered. like she wasn’t just out in the dark doing god knows what.

paige tilts her head. "silent treatment? that’s crazy."

azzi’s stomach knots. she should just say it. just ask. her eyes flick up—linger at paige’s bun. she sees it now. the dried rust clinging to the strands, almost lost in the honey-blonde.

"there's blood in your hair."

paige stops in front of her, close enough that azzi can smell the warm spice of her cologne, something deeper beneath it. her grin flickers, like she wasn’t expecting that.

then she laughs, low and amused. "yeah?"

azzi nods, her throat dry. she’s suddenly so aware of her body. "yeah."

paige’s gaze dips. a quick flick—barely there—but azzi feels it, the weight of her eyes dragging down to the square neckline of her top, the way it presses tightly against her skin and pushes up her tits. it’s so quick she might’ve imagined it, but when paige looks back up, there’s something else in her face, something dark and hungry.

azzi’s heart skips.

paige leans in slightly, all sharp eyes and quiet hunger. "take it out and see." she grabs azzi’s wrist and presses it against her scalp, her fingers warm and firm over azzi’s skin.

azzi’s pupils blow wide. her heart slams into her ribs.

"see, az?" paige murmurs. "you’re just as bad as me."

azzi rips her hand away and backs up. paige follows, smooth, easy, and unhurried. azzi’s breath catches—there’s nowhere to go but down the hallway. she moves before she can think, turns—but paige’s voice follows her, teasing. 

"aw, don’t do that, princess. you know you can’t run from me."

azzi doesn’t listen. her socked feet slap against the hardwood as she bolts, and she almost slips, rounding the corner toward her bedroom. she doesn’t make it. paige is already there.

azzi’s breath shudders. she saw her in the living room. she just felt her presence behind her, but now she’s in front, her body loose and relaxed against the doorframe. 

azzi skids to a stop, heart hammering. paige just grins, cocking her head. "that was cute."

azzi’s stomach drops. she whirls around, runs back through the kitchen—paige is at the fridge, watching her like this is all some kind of game. azzi stumbles, chest heaving. she didn’t even hear paige move this time. didn’t realize how close she was until—

she trips.

a sharp gasp rips from her throat as she hits the floor. she scrambles to get up, but paige is already there, grabbing her ankle and dragging her back, slow and deliberate like she has all the time in the world.

azzi twists, pushing up onto her hands, her breath ragged, sweat clinging to the hollow of her throat. she might be screaming, but she can’t tell. her curls stick to her forehead, her lip combo still glossy, her skin warm and glowing in the dim light.

paige watches her struggle, mouth curving into something that shouldn’t be so blatantly fond. and then, low and appreciative: "jesus, ma. this top."

azzi gapes. “you can’t be serious right now.”

paige laughs—actually laughs, full and throaty, before ducking down and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to azzi’s throat. azzi jerks, whimpers as a slow heat floods through her. 

"paige—"

"relax, baby," paige murmurs against her skin, lips grazing the pulse pounding at her neck. "you know i’d never hurt you."

azzi squeezes her eyes shut, chest heaving, fear and something unidentifiable tangling in her stomach. then paige pulls back, sighing like this is exhausting for her. she reaches into her hoodie, pulls out something small and sharp—a knife—and flicks it across the room. it clatters onto the hardwood.

azzi stares.

paige cups her face, tilting it up, her thumbs pressing gently into her cheeks. "look at me."

azzi does, breath uneven, her throat tight.

"i’m not gonna hurt you," paige says, softer this time, steady and sure. "you know that, don’t you?"

azzi’s lips tremble. and then the tears spill over. she makes a choked sound, shaking her head, her breathing turning sharp and uneven.

 "please," she whispers, voice cracking. "please, paige. you’re lying to me, i— i thought we were best friends. what did i do wrong? what—whatever it is, i’m so sorry.”

paige freezes. her face twists with an emotion so raw, that azzi is unsure if there’s a name for it. “azzi—”

azzi wrenches away from her grip and pulls back, hands tangling in her curls, her whole body wound tight. "there’s always two of you, right?" she gasps, voice rising in panic. "oh my god, i’m gonna die."

paige’s expression crumples. "don’t you dare say that shit."

azzi flinches, still hyperventilating, her shoulders rising and falling too fast, her vision swimming. paige exhales sharply and moves, pressing a steadying hand to azzi’s waist, keeping her from stumbling. 

"azzi, you can be pissed in a minute, mama. swear. but i need you to calm down first."

azzi blinks up at her, dazed, ribs aching.

paige tightens her grip, her voice dropping into something warmer, more familiar. "need you to breathe for me, baby. please."

and somehow azzi listens. her breath hitches in her throat as she slows it down, lungs expanding in time with paige’s steady exhalations, but it’s the space between them that feels suffocating now. paige’s grip doesn’t loosen. azzi thinks of her promise from before: i don’t care if i gotta lock you in a damn safe.

azzi’s fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, her skin still slick with sweat, as her mind races to catch up with everything that’s happening. that flicker of fear still burns deep in her chest, but—god, she’s so close to paige. too close. her neck is still tingling from where paige kissed it, the skin still warm and alive from her touch.

but paige… paige is a killer. the killer.

she tries to pull away again—shaking her head, trying to break free from the grip she can’t seem to escape. "i—i can’t."

paige doesn’t let her go this time. instead, she leans down, their faces inches apart, her voice like honey and danger all at once. "you can, though.”

azzi swallows. "you’re not the paige i thought i knew."

a pause. paige’s eyes darken just the slightest bit, but there’s something else in them, something softer, a flicker of recognition, maybe even a hint of regret. but it’s gone before azzi can pin it down, replaced by something colder.

"ma," paige says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something that cracks in a way speaks to her. "azzi, this ain't easy for me either. i didn’t—this isn't the person i wanna be in front of you."

azzi’s breath hitches. "then don’t be." she shakes her head again, frustration boiling over. "i don’t understand, paige. i don’t even know what’s real anymore."

paige’s hands tighten around her wrists, gentle but firm, and for a second, it feels like she’s holding herself together instead. "what’s real is my promises. i swear to god, az,  i’m not gonna hurt you."

azzi laughs, but it’s hollow, the sound falling against the floor. "how do you expect me to believe that?”

“you do believe that. that’s why you suspected me for so long and didn’t say shit.” azzi freezes. "you know why i keep you close? cause you make me wanna be better."

azzi scoffs, eyes wide. "what? it’s not my job to save you, p.”

paige leans in, her forehead brushing against azzi’s.  "but you do it every day. you’re the one thing in this world that still feels right. and i’m not about to let anything happen to you. not now. not ever."

azzi’s heart tugs with the weight of paige’s words. the sincerity in her voice wraps around her like a velvet rope, pulls her closer. but then—then—the cold reality crashes back in. azzi shakes her head, her eyes filling with that uncontrollable fear again. 

"i can’t be part of this, paige. i can’t be in this world with you. it’s too much. i don’t—i don’t know who you are anymore."

paige’s expression hardens, but she doesn’t let go of azzi’s face. "you do know me," she says, a soft, dangerous promise in her voice. "i’m still me. the same person who’s been by your side, who’d do anything for you. i swear, azzi, you’re all i care about."

azzi blinks, her vision blurry through the tears, her chest tight with the weight of it all. "then why—why do you hurt people?"

paige’s jaw clenches, the shadow of the killer flashing across her features again. but when she looks at azzi, it’s with something broken. "i’m trying to protect you. to keep you safe, az. you don’t get it. i’m doing this for you."

azzi shakes her head, backing away again, her hands trembling. "you’re still lying."

"no," paige breathes, reaching for her again, but azzi pulls back, pacing quickly, hands tangled in her hair again, trying to pull herself together. "please, just calm down. i need you to calm down, baby. we’ll figure it out."

azzi whips around, her hand swiping at her eyes. "i can’t figure this out, paige! i can’t! you’re not just a friend to me, you’re— i can’t lose you, but i can’t do this either!"

paige’s face softens, and this time, she steps back, giving azzi space, her shoulders sagging just slightly. "i’m not going anywhere. not unless you tell me to."

azzi pauses, her breath still coming in jagged bursts. "why wouldn’t i tell you to leave?"

"cause you love me," paige says simply, but it’s not a boast. it’s the truth, in a way azzi can’t ignore. "and i love you too, maybe even more. and that’s enough. it’ll always be enough, azzi. just trust me."

azzi’s breath catches. "you can’t make this go away, paige." and suddenly she’s just so angry.

her hands curl into fists, eyes brimming with the weight of everything she's been holding in. she looks away, but paige reaches out, gently grabbing her chin. the touch is light but unyielding, pulling azzi back into her orbit. “hey, what are you thinking? talk to me.”

azzi stares at her for a beat, then explodes, words spilling out faster than she can control them. "you don’t get it! you’re so obsessed with how i feel, with fixing everything with me, you can’t even see how badly you’re fucking up. you don’t see it, do you? you just want the thrill of being the one i choose! what even is this? are you just throwing your whole life away for five minutes of fucking fame, paige? you can be so fucking selfish when it comes to me, and you won’t even admit it."

paige stands there, quiet for a second, then slowly smirks. “yeah, okay. i am selfish about you. i don’t see anything wrong with it. you right, ma.” she steps forward again, closer to azzi, inching her way into her space until there’s nowhere for her to go. “but that doesn’t mean you get to make me feel like shit for it. ‘cause you like being special.”

azzi’s breath stutters in her chest, caught off guard by paige’s rather self-accountable response. she opens her mouth to retort but doesn’t get the chance before paige leans in, close enough that azzi can feel her breath, her warmth.

“i know., i know. i’m not taking you seriously. i’m not listening. yep, for sure, ma,” paige murmurs. “just—”and then she kisses her. it's slow, deliberate, the kind of kiss that’s not just about desire but about the release of it.

azzi kisses back almost immediately, closing her eyes and digging her hands into paige’s hair. she opens her mouth, and paige slips her tongue inside, dragging a hand down to squeeze azzi’s waist. azzi moans, whole body shivering as paige presses two fingers to her aching clit. the pressure is fucking divine, and something sickly sweet swells in her tummy.

paige is playing dirty, and azzi is finding it hard to claw her way out of the web her best friend continues to spin. 

she pulls back, blushing as a thin string of spit connects them for several seconds before snapping. 

“don’t think for one second that you’re off the hook,” azzi says, voice shaky and defiant. 

paige only grins, smug, and presses harder against her pussy, rubbing gently through the fabric. “mmhmm. you taste so good, you know that? like fucking sugar, just straight honey.”

azzi’s pulse is racing, her chest tight, and she’s this close to yelling at her again. “you’re not even listening to me,” she says, but it comes out as a half-sigh, half-moan.

paige doesn’t back off, though. instead, she leans in again, slow and steady, keeping the pace of her fingers up as if she’d always known that this was where they’d end up. she presses her lips to azzi’s again and again, and azzi, against all her better judgment, melts every time. the next time it’s paige who breaks their contact. 

"i don’t know how to make it go away yet,” paige says, her voice quieter now as she speaks to azzi’s earlier worries. "but i need you to trust me. please."

azzi hesitates, eyes still wet, her chest tight. her heart aches. but for a moment, just a moment, she lets herself believe in paige. just a little bit, just a little more.

"what are you protecting me from?" azzi whispers, voice barely audible. “is it someone else?”

paige doesn’t answer at first, just steps forward and pulls azzi into a desperate hug. that only confirms it. this other person, the second piece to this horrific puzzle, has it out for her. 

"you don’t have to worry about that, baby. i got you. always."

azzi wants to believe her without any reservations because she knows, on a level, that it’s true.

that’s the worst part.

𓇼 it turns out azzi can forgive a lot when it comes to paige. loving her is a part of her genetic code.

𓇼 it's what she was meant for, body and soul.

𓇼 fuck.

© hcneymooners.

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 6)

Bruce was enjoying a quiet day in the manor with the kids when the nature documentary they'd been watching (courtesy of Damian) got interrupted.

"We interrupt this broadcast to tell you some breaking news, and I do mean breaking," the newscaster announced. "Bruce Wayne's child, Y/N Wayne, was kidnapped by crime lord and night club owner Oswald Cobblepot, AKA the Penguin."

"What?!" Dick spluttered. Tim choked on his evening coffee.

"Not only is he claiming that he has had Y/N Wayne in his custody for over fourteen days via kidnapping, he is now refusing to give them back and claims that Y/N will now be his adopted child."

"That can't be right! You don't kidnap someone and claim that they're a part of your family after an inconsequential amount of time has passed! Squatter's rights do not apply to people!" Tim yelled.

"He . . . kidnapped Y/N?" Steph asked the air.

"We now show the video that has made global headlines." The newscaster disappeared as Cobblepot's cackling form took over.

"Hello, Mr Wayne," he cackled. "Noticed any changes in your household? Perhaps a missing child?" The Wayne household could only watch as the Joker, the literal Joker, held your hand as he escorted you into the view of the camera. Your outfit was a smaller, form-fitting version of Cobblepot's three-piece suit, and someone had slicked your hair back and given you an umbrella. You had everything except for the monocle. Not your style.

"They're really come into their own since the . . . surprise adoption," Joker grinned. "They've already become a Cobblepot copy, how cute! Not sure how Riddler's going to take losing the bet."

"What bet?" you asked.

"Riddler and I had a bet that your family would ignore everything regarding a ransom for two weeks straight." Penguin's smile was large and full of sharp teeth. "And I was right. They gave me the go-ahead to keep you with their silence. You're all mine now, Y/N."

"Is this brainwashing? This has to be brainwashing, right?" Dick was talking to himself at a mile a minute just so he wouldn't go completely crazy right then and there.

"I have to give a little credit to you, Wayne, with very little doing on your part, you managed to create a wonderful, sweet, and intelligent child." The video quality was clear, so they could see the smile that stretched across your face when he complimented you. "Originally, all I'd wanted was a small payout (small for you) of three million dollars, but when I learned of your utter carelessness and your child's incredible skills, I decided that an heir would be worth more than what your putrid money could buy me. I'm just telling you this so you can turn their bedroom into a guest bedroom."

"My bedroom was always a guest bedroom," they heard you say. "Nobody ever got around to decorating it, and I was just waiting until I could leave legally."

"Well, you can decorate this bedroom anyway you like," Penguin promised.

"Really, Dad? Thank you, you're the best!" Y/N hugged Penguin tightly. Bile rose in their throats.

Y/N called Penguin Dad.

"You really are sweet," Penguin said. "Now, since your birth father's already rather clueless, I guess we can take you to the courthouse and have you legally named as my child. How does Y/N Cobblepot sound?"

"It sounds amazing!" you cheered. And then the video ended.

"Well, I guess that's that. Bruce Wayne's least-seen child will now be Oswald Cobblepot's pride and joy. We'll update you as soon as we learn more about this hidden Wayne and their new life."

The nature documentary resumed, but nobody was paying attention. "Y/N was . . . taken? And we didn't know?" Tim's voice cracked. He was supposed to know. He was your big brother and trained by Batman, not to mention the information guy. He should have known about this.

"How long will it take before we get to the Iceberg Lounge? We need to get them, save them!" Jason grabbed his stuff. "I'm going."

"No, Jason. This should be a cohesive family effort. Clearly, Y/N is being heavily guarded and Cobblepot will not give them up easily." Bruce motioned for his son to sit down. "We should plan this properly if we want them back."

"How do we even lose track of them?" Stephanie asked. "We really had them get away from us? For two weeks straight?"

"Well, we never see them around here. They hole themselves up in their room," Barbara pointed out. "Wait, where is their room?"

A silence gagged them as they tried to think about where in the manor your room was. Nobody could think of a place where it could be.

"How did we not notice that there were so many ransom demands being sent?" Barbara asked.

"There were letters, but I disposed of them," Damian shamefully admitted. "I thought it was a hoax. How was I supposed to believe that Y/N was genuinely kidnapped? Who would even want them?"

"Penguin does, you little brat, and they're being brainwashed into being his little puppet right now!" Jason screamed.

Damian unsheathed his katana. "It was an honest mistake!"

"If you'd told someone about this, all of it could have been prevented!" Jason screamed. "Y/N was holding hands with the Joker!"

Barbara put herself in the middle of the boys. "Stop fighting! The more we fight, the longer we are kept away from Y/N."

"Barbara's right. We need a plan, lots of them. Plans to get Y/N away from those monsters, and back with their real family." Bruce took charge, as the angry and heartbroken father of a kidnapped child.

"And something to get them to love us and trust us again," Damian said. "We cannot cut corners here. We have to go all out. Y/N needs to be home with their real family." He paused, not wanting them to see him cry. Damian Wayne did not cry. "Even if they don't know what that truly looks like."

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 <- You are here

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, @heather-hutchcroft, @angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger, @omgfangirlland, @jaybunsblog, @iwannaflyaway

[astrosky33]

The Best Career for you: Asteroid Industria

◉ Industria is an asteroid in astrology that can represent the long term career industry you will work in. Based on the readings I’ve done this asteroid is very accurate in predicting your long term career

◉ Asteroid Code: 389 -> How to find asteroids

House Meanings

Asteroid Industria in the 1st house

Your career will be a major part of your identity (more so than others careers would). Your career may change or constantly be testing your outlook/view on life. This career will be something you’re very passionate and ambitious about. You may use lots of mannerisms in this career. It most likely is going to involve your physical body, fighting, beauty, confidence, and/or individuality

Ex: Athlete, Model, Makeup Artist, Fighter

Asteroid Industria in the 2nd house

Your career will be a major source of stability (not just financially but also emotionally) for you in your life and your career may boost your self esteem/self worth. It is going to revolve around material items. It most likely is going to involve either your singing voice, finances, cooking, giving, receiving, and/or material resources

Ex: Singer, Banker, Accountant, Chef, Product Designer

Asteroid Industria in the 3rd house

In your career you will use your voice to spread an important message. You will express many of your ideas to others. It most likely will involve communication, literature, teaching, transportation, influencing, social media, the mind, and/or phones

Ex: Author/Writer, Social Media Influencer, Driver, Teacher

Asteroid Industria in the 4th house

Your career will be in an industry where you’re using lots of emotion toward your work and/or caring for others. It won’t be a job far out of your comfort zone. It likely will involve houses, home related things, food, and/or self-care

Ex: Real Estate Agent, Nurse, Baker, Home Designer

Asteroid Industria in the 5th house

Your career may revolve around you and be in an industry where a lot of spotlight/attention is on you. You’re going to work in an industry where you use your talents. It’s going to be a career you really enjoy and that makes you happy! It likely will involve entertainment, romance, events (such as a festival or concert), children, talents, and/or drama

Ex: Actor, Event Planner, Child Psychiatrist, Talent Agent

Asteroid Industria in the 6th house

Your career will have a set schedule and steady income. In this career industry you’ll constantly be working on self improvement. It likely will involve health, fitness, hygiene, your analytic nature, animals/pets, and/or giving service to others somehow

Ex: Doctor, Nutritionist, Fitness Trainor, Dentist, Vet

Asteroid Industria in the 7th house

Your career will be one that’s based around equality or partnership. You’re going to be working towards harmony or peace in this career. It will likely involve commitment, marriage, attractiveness/attraction, contracts, conflicts, negotiations, and/or equality/sharing

Ex: Wedding Planner, Lawyer, Model, Fashion Designer

Asteroid Industria in the 8th house

Your career will be one that’s based around a lot of transformation, power, or mystery. In this career industry you’ll constantly be working on changing for the better. It will likely involve crime, death, taxes, psychology, surgery, investments, the stock market, business, loans, secrets, your inheritance, reproduction, and/or spiritual transformation

Ex: Detective, Psychologist, Tax Preparer, Surgeon

Asteroid Industria in the 9th house

Your career will be one that helps you grow a lot as a person. In this career industry you will learn a lot more than most people do in their career. It will likely involve travel in general, air travel, exploration, television, media, teaching, higher education (college/uni), religion, beliefs, ideologies, philosophy, interviews, courts, law, cultures, ethics, viewpoints, and/or languages

Ex: College Professor, Pilot, Newscaster, Photographer

Asteroid Industria in the 10th house

You are more likely than others to be very successful when having this placement in your chart. Your career will teach you how to set long term goals for yourself and succeed. It will likely involve being in charge/a boss, business, peoples reputations/images, sense of mission, responsibilities, being famous, and/or status

Ex: Manager (anywhere), Publicist, Movie Director

Asteroid Industria in the 11th house

You’re more likely to gain wealth from your career with this placement since the 11th house represents financial gains -> read more here. Your career will be one that introduces new ideas to the world and may be a more unique career compared to most peoples. It will likely involve technology, film, politics, science, inventions, chaos, sudden change, friendship, groups, desires, manifestations, hopes/wishes, humanitarianism, social networking, clubs, and/or parties

Ex: Engineer, Scientist, Film Producer, Politician

Asteroid Industria in the 12th house

Your career is one that will transform you spiritually. In this career industry you will heal others. It will likely involve spirituality, hypnotism, isolation, music, karma/karmic debts, hidden enemies, the subconscious mind, subconscious memory, sleep, dreams (the ones you have when you sleep), old age/people, mental health, fears, losses, endings, impersonations, closure, self-undoing, bed pleasures, intuition, illusions, and/or the afterlife

Ex: Therapist, Song-Writer, Astrologer, Psychic

➠ [READ] the examples listed aren’t the only possible careers for each house only some, so there can be more interpretations than the ones listed

𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚! 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘆𝘇𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗮 𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗶𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗕𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗬 𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗺𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁

𝗠𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

© 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[driftbit]

Made during the fantastic @mcyt-jukebox-bonanza for Oh No :: He Said What? by Nothing But Thieves. I have a whole AU I want to write in my brain which I'm gonna brain dump below. :] I might write it eventually. once I'm not in four different events at once. @-@

Okay SO. It's set in a cyberpunk-y city where megacorporations own everything and it Sucks for most people. But not for Joel! He's some kind of influencer/maybe a solo singer/artist act and he works for one specific talent agency. He's really well known, and kind of their main Face. Etho is an android at the same company who is half Joel's assistant, half rat to the upper administration board. The reason why he's an android is because that means he doesn't need sleep or food, so whenever he's not in Active Assistant mode, he's basically scouring the web to make sure that Joel's image is Perfect. One night, he ends up coming across a post that's a video someone took of Joel where Joel is basically BASHING the company he works for and lowkey admirers; it's really Typical Joel Trash Talk, but it's started to really tick some people off. He's saying that the company/fans would be nothing without him, they wouldn't be successful or anything were it not for his talent. Naturally, Etho has to report it to the higher ups, who aren't pleased that Joel is shit talking them and being like, they're nothing without me etc etc. So the managers order for Etho to Take Care Of Joel. Problem: they're not specific with what this means, though, and Etho Genuinely isn't sure if they're asking him to straight up kill Joel or to just take him out of the public eye for a bit. Etho opts to start with the latter since that'll give him time to mull over what he should do, and they go on a little Road Trip.

Eventually Joel ends up seeing himself from an outside perspective while on the trip through different newscasts and strangers' reactions, and realizes how Bad this all looks once he's out in the middle of nowhere, outside of his cushy life, seeing how Normal People live and are effected by capitalism. And only then slowly does he realize Etho took him out of the spotlight on purpose; Etho might have been asked to Make Him Go Away. In my head the whole fic ends on a cliffhanger of literally Joel begging Etho not to kill him and Etho Finally feeling prepared emotionally to do it. :]

Also, since you've made it all the way through my ranting, pls check out this live version of Oh No :: He Said What? IMO it's even better than the original recording. Beefy ass bassline.

[theblue6ook]

A Sick Day

It’s not a cold. It’s not. It’s just… allergies or something. Y/N definitely does not need to stay home. Bruce disagrees.

B (24) & Y/N (22)

A/N: recently got a puppy and he has taken all of my free time <3 Also, this fic is unedited and proud.

“Get your coats and turn on your radiators, Gotham. An ice front is coming in and it’s coming in hot. Or should I say cold? No, this isn’t the work of Mr.Freeze, he’s still in Arkham and we hope he stays there. This is the work of a winter storm. While the snow will be beautiful, it will also be dangerous.”

Y/N scoffed at her computer. The newscasters always made such a big deal about winter storms. Nothing can be worse than what they had to deal with when Mr.Freeze escaped a year ago. She was stuck in her apartment for three days with no groceries, splitting a box of stale Triscuits with Carrie three meals a day. If anything, cold weather is more an inconvenience than a danger. Plus, it’s been teetering on 45 degrees out the past week. How much colder would it get?

-

So… It got fucking cold.

Gotham had hit record-low temperatures. So low it hadn’t been a natural occurrence since the 60s. Lucky for Carrie, she had chemo this week and the hospital had gotten spooked by the recent weather reports so they asked her to stay overnight. While the hospital bill wouldn’t be nice, it’s way better than what Y/N is dealing with. 

Her radiator is shitting out on her. The whole building's radiator system actually. Normally when the weather is this bad she would opt to work at home, like everyone else, except she can’t take the cold. Her body in particular can’t take the cold. It could be from the shitty surroundings in her apartment building or from sniffly Nathan who works in Wayne Enterprise’s marketing department, but she thinks she’s coming down with something. What’s worse is that the cold weather is making it worse.

Her whole chest felt like it was burning, which is a real contrast to how cold she was walking to work. She couldn’t get her car past the snow and she needs warmth and warmth is at Wayne Enterprises. So, she trudges into the empty building, up the elevator, and sits at her desk with a groan.

Breathing heavily, she shrugged her coat off her shoulders and pressed her freezing fingertips underneath her armpits. She looked at her reflection in her desktop monitor. Her cheeks were bright red and she had dark circles under her eyes. At least no one else was here to see her. No one else was here to see her…

Would it hurt to take a nap? No one would know. No one would see. 

Y/N stood and stepped out into the hallway. Not. A. Single. Soul. Oh, she is so napping.

-

Bruce had chained up his tires this morning and headed to Wayne Enterprise. It was too bright for The Tumbler and he needed to gather a few equipment items from Lucious Fox’s bunker. It’s not like anyone was here anyway. There was not a single car in the garage, not even Y/N’s, which is really saying something. 

He perused the bunker, grabbing a few small but powerful heaters, fleece-lined leather for his suit, and a couple of other items, stuffing them into his duffle bag. He was used to the cold, training in it, even living in it on one occasion, and the people of Gotham needed him so he’d be there. 

Pulling the duffle bag over his shoulder with ease, he headed out of the bunker and towards the elevator. He left a particular file that wasn’t meant for Wayne Enterprise in his office, while no one was here, you can never be too careful. Except… There was someone here. 

He could only assume the head poking out from her coat was Y/N and she was sleeping? In the office? Stepping closer to her, he noticed, even under all her layers, she was trembling. Pulling her coat collar from her face, he finally got a good look at her. She was flushed and had broken out into a sweat, even her ears were bright red. He held onto her shoulder and shook her lightly.

“Y/N,” Bruce spoke softly. She ground turning away from him. He slapped a hand to her forehead trying to gauge her temperature. She definitely had a fever, it couldn’t be lower than a 100. Slowly her eyes opened at the disruption, then became wide at who was standing over her. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I’m not the one sleeping in the office.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled embarrassed, “I don’t know how that happened-”

“Y/N you’re burning up. What are you even doing here?”

“Why does someone come to work, Bruce?”

“You’re not working. You’re sleeping.”

“I had the intent to work-”

“Y/N.”

“I just felt like coming in,” she snapped. In truth, she was embarrassed. Here was her billionaire boss. If he didn’t feel like sleeping in his mansion, he could stay the night at his penthouse. She was sure he had other properties as well, meanwhile her radiator couldn’t even stay on when it gets chilly outside.

Bruce held her stare with a firm gaze and narrowed his eyes.

“You’re going home.” It wasn’t a question and he definitely didn’t ask as he lifted her under her armpits from the couch and stood her up on the floor. He took her coat roughly from the couch and threw it over her shoulders. Bruce turned to pack the rest of her things up. Y/N was so tired, but she was also so frustrated. She had just gotten here. It had taken her so long to walk here. “Let’s go. Where’d you park?”

She remained silent and looked away from him. 

“Y/N. Where did you park?”

“I’m not going home. I just got here.”

“You’re sick you’re going home,” before she could speak he added, “and don’t say your car is in the garage because I know it’s not in there.”

“...I parked on the street.”

He tilted his head examining her, “No you didn’t. The snow us up to the stairs. Where’s your car?”

His question came out as more of a statement, demanding of an answer. She wouldn’t look at him and he grew both frustrated and disappointed. “For the love of god, please tell me you did not walk here.”

“My car couldn’t get past the snow!” she loudly admitted, “Is that what you wanted to hear-”

“Y/N. When your car can’t get past the snow, it means you stay home!” 

He held his hand to his brow, trying to sooth the tension in his head. Throwing his duffle bag and her work bag easily over his shoulder, he didn’t give her much of a chance to say anything as he grabbed her by the hand to pull her toward the elevator. Even in his frustrated state, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, his grip on her was still gentle.

Stubborn as ever, she would let him pull her to the car. She would let him buckle her in. She would let him drive her to her broken, cold home, but she wouldn’t say a damn thing about the radiator. None. Of. His. Business.

[She’s even more stubborn when she’s sick.]

And she did just that. She let Bruce Wayne take her hand, blaming the warmth in her face on her high fever. She let him tug her to his expensive McLaren 650s Spider with a new shiny set of winter tires. She enjoyed seeing it too and part of her enjoyed annoying him. And she let him plop her into his expensive shiny car, buckle her in, and drive her home. What she didn’t expect was him wanting to walk her inside…

“I can get inside just fine, thank you.” Y/N attempted to push him back towards his car. Her hand held to his chest and pushed firmly. He didn’t even budge. Not even a sway.

“You’re not walking up three flights of stairs alone in your condition.”

“My condition?” she paused. “How do you know I live on the third floor?”

“You put your address on your resume,” he lied smoothly.

“I didn’t know you read my resume-”

“Stop stalling.”

She tried to keep him out, she really did, but he was so persistent. They made it to the front door, thank you Mr.Wayne I can take it from here. Nope, he needed to help her up the stairs, so they made it up the stairs. Thank you, Mr.Wayne I think I can make it inside by myself. Nope, he had already made it up the stairs; he might as well finish the journey. They made it to her front door. Thank you, Mr.Wayne you can go now. Nope, there’s no reason he can’t sit her things down for her.

In her heart, she knew there was no way he didn’t notice the cool, crisp air in the hallway. The way not a single apartment radiated heat and she knew he had to be suspicious. Her hand shook in shame as she unlocked her apartment and opened the door up, head down. 

Letting himself in, she heard a deep sigh, radiating from his chest, “Y/N, you can’t stay here-”

“Stop-”

“It’s freezing in here-”

“You don’t think I know that?” Once again, he grabbed her hand pulling her into the hallway, shaking her head. He took the keys straight out of her hand, locking the apartment door. “What are you doing? We just got here?”

“You’re staying with me this weekend.” 

“Are you insane?”

“I have a house with over fifteen bedrooms. I think you can find somewhere to sleep.”

“This is so unprofessional.”

“I don’t care.” With her apartment keys he walked back toward the stairs at an alarming pace. She had no choice but to follow.

“Bruce, I swear to God I am not staying at the manor.”

-

“Welcome to Wayne Manor Miss.Y/N.”

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt @stxrsberkshire

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part Two)

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Part Two!!! If you haven’t read part one yet, go here. You’ll need to read it to understand this and the series. Hope everyone likes!❤️

_______________________________________________

Y/N had gone to work and Dean was lounging in their living room, finishing off Y/N’s beer as he flipped through channels on the TV set. Dean let out a content, “Ahhh” as he clicked the remote, landing on a news station. “And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424” The newscaster said.

Dean’s heart dropped, his eyes widening as he leaned forward, instantly recognizing the flight by name. “Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the victims” Dean could feel his fear growing, “No no no. We stopped that crash” His mind going back to that day they had to exorcise a demon on a plane.

-

Dean was now in front of Y/N’s laptop, running his hand over his face as he stared, eyewide at the headline on the article. ‘Flight 424 Crashes. 108 dead’ the headline read. He began skimming the internet for all their previous hunts within the past two years, the words ‘nine children comatose’, ‘parents mutilated’, ‘girl drowns in hotel pool’ rang through his head.

Dean felt sick to his stomach as he read about all the people they saved over the years were now gone, as if all what they did was for nothing. This reality was too much for him, he desperately wanted a normal life but seeing this…it didn't sit right with him.

At the corner of his eye, Dean saw the figure of a woman drift in the hallway. His eyes snapped up to see no one there, he knew it couldn't be Y/N. He knows her figure like the back of his hand, so immediately he got up and rushed into the room. The seemingly empty room.

Dean heard something move in the closet, his head snapping in the direction. He attempted to reach for his gun he keeps in the back of his jeans, only to pat air. Forgetting that he's a civilian and not a hunter. The instinct came naturally. Dean then swiftly opened the door to see the skeletal remains of a man and a woman, hanging by their wrists from the ceiling.

Dean stared at it in shock and fear, before he could do anything, he sensed a presence behind him. He quickly turned around to see the young girl he saw outside the college and in the restaurant, a bleeding wound was prominent on her forehead. Her spirit then diminished out of sight. Leaving Dean stunned.

He spun around to see the skeletal remains he saw just a few seconds ago were now gone. "What the…" Dean muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around the room where the skeletons had been not a moment ago. "What the hell is going on?" He repeated to himself, trying to make sense of everything he had just witnessed.

Frustration boiled within him as he ran a hand through his messy hair, feeling utterly helpless. He took a deep, shaky breath before quickly exiting the room. "Screw it. I need a drink" Dean mumbled, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

____________________________________________

Thunder was rolling as lightning filled the dark sky where Dean stood in the cemetery. He looked down at the headstone that read ‘John Winchester’ with anger, sorrow, pity and a bit of hatred. “All of them. Everyone that you and F/N saved. Everyone that Sammy, Y/N/N and I saved. They're all dead”

The anger in his voice was palpable, as he looked down at the grave with clenched fists. "Everyone!" he repeated, his voice hoarse with emotion. The rain that fell from the sky did little to soothe his anger as he continued to glare at the headstone.

For a moment, he was silent, the only sound being the pattering of rain on his jacket and the distant rumble of thunder. Then he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And there’s this girl that's haunting me. I don’t know why. Y/N can’t even feel her, I mean, how can she not see her? The chick feels everything, it's annoying sometimes!”

He sighed frustrated, leaning against a neighboring headstone, not even caring if he got mud on himself. "I don’t know why. I don’t know what the connection is." he muttered, raising the bottle of whiskey to his lips. The alcohol burned down his throat, but he welcomed the sensation.

It was a distraction for the moment, a way to numb the pain and anger that churned within him. But as the liquid coursed through his veins, it also made his head feel fuzzy and he soon found himself slumping against the headstone, his eyes growing heavy.

He knew he should probably get up and get out of here, but the weight of everything seemed too heavy, too much to bear. He sighed and took another swig of whiskey, hoping that it would bring him closer to unconsciousness.

“Its like my old life is coming after me or something, you know? Like it doesn’t want me to be happy” Dean rambled in frustration before glaring at his fathers headstone. “Of course, I know what you and f/n say. Well…not the two of you that played softball, but…” Dean’s throat constricted as he held back tears.

“You guys would say, ‘Go hunt the djinn. Hey, it put you here, it could put you back’” Dean said bitterly. “‘Your happiness for all those people’s lives. No contest right?’” Dean further quoted his father and F/N. Dean took a shaky breath, his vision growing hazy as the alcohol continued to take its toll on him.

He knew he was rambling, but the words just kept pouring out of him, fueled by the mixture of anger, sadness and confusion. "I just... I just don’t get it" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?!” Dean exclaimed, his heart clenching as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

“What about us, huh?! What? Mom’s not supposed to live her life. Me and Sammy aren’t supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?! It’s-” The words died in his throat again, so he brought the bottle to his lips.

The whiskey burned as it traveled down his throat, but he didn't care. The pain from the burn dulled the emotional pain that threatened to consume him. He slouched further down against the headstone, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

His gaze fell on his father's grave again, his eyes narrowing faintly. "Why can’t I just have a normal life? Why does it always to come back to this?" he let out a bitter laugh, "It’s like I’m cursed or something" He took another swig from the bottle, his grip loosening as the alcohol took effect.

Dean let out a deep breath, feeling the world spin slightly as he attempted to push himself up. His legs felt weak and shaky, but he managed to stand. "Yeah." He muttered, stumbling forward a few steps. He didn’t even look back as he made his way out of the cemetery and towards his car.

-

Dean woke up the next morning in bed, his head was still fuzzy, a nauseous feeling in his stomach. He groaned, his hand moving to cover his eyes as he slowly sat up, blinking groggily to adjust to the light in the room. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing headache that had taken up residence in his head.

His eyes glanced over to see the time on the clock, 6:30 a.m.

He heard the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom and saw a tall glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol was placed neatly on the nightstand. Dean grimaced slightly as he reached for the Tylenol and popped a few pills into his mouth before washing them down with the water.

The coolness of the liquid helped to soothe his raw throat, and he exhaled heavily. He heard footsteps approaching from the bathroom, but before he could turn to look, Y/N swung the door open, a slight frown on her face.

Y/N leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, "Hey." she said, her voice gentle but with a hint of concern. Dean looked up at her, guilt hitting him as he saw the look on her face. He knew by the look on her face that this wasn’t the first time he came home late and drunk, he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

But that wasn’t it, she was nervous. Y/N moved over to the bed and sat down beside him, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of his hand, trying to offer comfort despite the obvious worry she was feeling.

"You okay?" She asked softly, studying his face intently. He nodded slowly, looking down at their clasped hands. He squeezed her hand gently, meeting her gaze. "Yeah, I’m fine," he mumbled. A lie. “I-“ Y/N tried to tell him what she just found out while she was in the bathroom but her tone was shaky.

Seeing the hesitance on Y/N's face, Dean's heart dropped. "What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, concern etching his features. He squeezed her hand again, silently encouraging her to speak. Y/N took a deep breath before meeting his gaze once again. Her free hand was buried in her robe pocket, clutching the positive pregnancy test in her hand.

“I know we talked about it before… we spoke about doing it after our wedding. I’m ready to do this and I know you are too but-“ She sighed before slowly retracting it from her pocket, placing it into Dean’s hand. Dean's eyes widened as he stared down at the pregnancy test in his hand, his heart skipping a beat when he saw those two pink lines.

His hand trembled slightly as he held it, his mind spinning with a mixture of shock, joy, and trepidation. He looked back up at Y/N, his gaze intense and full of an array of emotions. "You're... pregnant? We're having a baby?" Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded, “After I left for work last night, the beer made me sick and I puked my life out. My boss sent me home early, then I realized my period was late…really late”

A flood of emotions coursed through Dean like a tidal wave. He gently set the pregnancy test down beside him and brought Y/N into his lap, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"We're gonna have a baby," he repeated, his voice full of awe and love. He pulled back slightly to look at Y/N, his eyes glimmering with happiness. "I can't believe it. This is..." He trailed off, too overwhelmed to find the right words to express his feelings.

This wasn't real. Is what his mind screamed at him.

Y/N was more than pleased with Dean’s reaction to her positive pregnancy test. Clinging to Dean for dear life as she sobbed, “We’re gonna be such bad ass parents” She chuckled through tears. Dean chuckled softly, holding Y/N tighter against him. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent and relishing in the feeling of her in his arms.

"We definitely are," he agreed, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "We'll be the best damn parents our kid could ask for." All while saying this, he knew what had to be done. Desperately trying his hardest not to cry, because this is all he wanted, but he knew he couldn’t have it.

“Do you have to work today?” Dean asked her tenderly as he traced circles on her back. Y/N shook her head, feeling the comforting touch of his fingers tracing her back. "No," she murmured, "I have today off, thankfully." She snuggled closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his warmth.

"Why? What’s up?” She asked curiously, tilting her head up to look at him. "Just asking," he said lightly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have some stuff I need to take care of today.” He explained. "I’ll be gone for a bit, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?” He placed a kiss on her forehead, attempting to mask his pain with a smile.

Y/N nodded against his chest, feeling a slight sense of unease but not wanting to push the matter. "Okay, baby, I’ll be here," she replied. "Just be careful, alright?" He nodded, pressing another kiss to her temple. "I will," he reassured her.

Reluctantly, he gently eased her off his lap and rose from the bed, grabbing a shirt from the dresser. "I should get going though. I love you, princess." Those words struck Dean to his core. Y/N watched him get dressed, her heart heavy with worry and confusion but she plastered a small smile on her face. "I love you too, charming," she told him.

Once Dean was gone, Y/N sat quietly on the bed, her heart heavy with confusion. It was as if something was off about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tried to push the thoughts aside, knowing he probably had something important to take care of, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

With a sigh, she laid back on the bed, trying to find comfort in the soft sheets and the familiar scent of the man she loved.

Once out in the garage, Dean leaned against Baby, his shoulders slumping as the weight of what he needed to do hit him all at once. With a sigh, he got in his car and started the engine, the only thing on his mind was the decision he had to make.

____________________________________________

Sam jolted awake in his bed to the sound of the door opening downstairs, it was way early in the morning, he instantly clutched the baseball bat he had under his bed. Gently padding over to the door.

Sam slowly opened the door, his grip on the baseball bat tightening as he strained his ears to listen for any sounds. Hearing the faint sound of movement downstairs, he cautiously made his way out of the room, keeping the bat raised just in case.

He saw the figure of a man in the dark house rummaging through the China cabinet as he peered from the corner. Sam's eyes widened as he saw the figure in the dark. He stayed hidden behind the corner for a moment, his heart racing as he tried to decide what to do.

He gripped the bat tighter, launching himself at the ‘intruder’. Dean swiftly dodged the attack and tackled Sam to the ground, pinning him down with his body. “That was so easy, I’m embarrassed for you?” Dean quipped. "Dean?" Sam exclaimed, breathing heavily, "What the hell are you doing here?" Shoving his brother off of him to push himself to his feet.

“I was looking for a beer” Dean joked, patting Sam on his shoulder. A wave of nostalgia washed over him at the interaction. “In the China cabinet?” Sam questioned, his brows furrowed as he padded over to the wall to flick the light on. His eyes glanced over to the table to see a box of their mom’s expensive knives.

“That’s mom’s silver” Sam pointed out, “Sam-” Dean sighed but his brother cut him off. “Wait, you broke into the house to steal Mom’s silver?!” Sam lowly exclaimed. “It's not what it looks like, okay? I didn't have a choice” Dean tried to defend. “Oh really? What's so fucking important that you gotta steal from your own mother?”

Dean grimaced, raking his fingers roughly through his hair as he tried to find the right words. "You want the truth?" He grumbled. The disappointment in Sam's voice was evident, and it cut deep. But he knew he couldn't tell him the truth. At least not yet. "Yeah. Yeah I do," Sam urged him as he nodded, Dean sighed before coming up with a shitty excuse.

“I owe somebody money.” Sam rolled his eyes. Typical Dean, he thought to himself. “Who?” He asked. “A bookie. I lost big on a game. I gotta bring him the cash tonight” Dean lied. “I can’t believe we’re even related” Sam mumbled, shaking his head. Dean’s face dropped, his heart aching in his chest.

“Sam, I’m sorry” Dean apologized sincerely, “Yeah” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry that we don't get along. I’m sorry that you and y/n/n aren’t friends anymore because of me. And I wish to hell that I could stay and fix it, fix everything.” His voice cracked. “I wish I could stay and be a father….but I gotta do this” Dean said, his voice filled with determination.

“People’s lives depend on it” Dean sighed heavily before picking up one of the silver knives from the red box. “What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked lowly, confusion clear in his tone. “Nothing. Forget it. Just…uh…” Dean said as he turned back to his brother. “Hey. Tell Mom I love her. And tell my princess that I’m so sorry” Dean said with a sad smile.

Sam's confusion turned to alarm as he watched Dean pick up the knife. "Dean, what-?" he started to say, but before he could finish his thought, he saw Dean's sad smile and his stomach dropped. Dean turned on his heels to walk out of the room. “Dean” Sam tried to stop his brother from leaving.

“I’ll see you, Sammy” Dean said tenderly, pulling the door open. He gave the house one last sorrow filled and painstaking look. Then he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Sam stared down the shut door for a few seconds, his mind spiraling. “What the hell, Dean?” He muttered to himself.

He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut as his worries about Dean only increased. Sam was left standing in the doorway, his heart heavy and his mind racing. He couldn't understand what had just happened. Why had Dean been acting so strangely? Why had he stolen the silver, and why had he talked about people's lives depending on it?

Sam's mind raced through possibilities and worst-case scenarios, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it. Immediately, Sam fished his phone out of his pocket to call the one person he knew would get through to Dean.

Dialing Y/N’s number, he waited anxiously for her to answer. The seconds felt like hours as he held his breath, silently praying for her to pick up the call. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her voice came through the speaker. “Hello?”

"Y/N," Sam blurted out, his voice filled with urgency. "Something's up with Dean" he told her, pacing around the room in agitation. There was a beat of shocked silence on the other end before Y/N spoke, her concern evident in her voice. "I knew it” She grumbled, gripping her steering wheel.

After Dean left the house when she broke the news of her pregnancy, Y/N didn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong as much as she wanted to. So after over an hour of it nagging her, she hopped into her truck and went all over town looking for him.

“Is he still at the house?” Y/N asked Sam quickly. "Uhhh…" Sam hummed as he peeled back the curtain. The Impala was still outside with Dean sitting in the driver’s side, seemingly lost in thought. “He’s still outside” Sam answered, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.

"But he was acting strange. He said something about owing money to a bookie and people's lives depending on it. I don't know what to make of it, Y/N" There was a short pause on the other end as Y/N absorbed this information. "That doesn't sound right at all,” she said, her voice filled with worry.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed, his anxiety growing by the minute. "And then… he told me to tell you and mom that he's sorry and that he loves you" he relayed, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Y/N's heart sank at the mention of Dean's message, a knot forming in her throat. There was an undeniable feeling of dread in her gut.

Sam looked back out the window, his eyes falling on Dean who hadn’t shifted from his spot since earlier.

Her mind was racing, wondering if this was because of her unexpected pregnancy. So she tried her best to formulate a plan, even in this stressful time. “Okay, listen to me very clearly, Samuel. You go outside and keep him there for as long as possible. I’m on my way” Y/N instructed him sternly.

"Got it. I’ll keep him there," Sam assured her, his tone set with determination. “I’ll even pretend to be mad or something.” Y/N’s instructions were clear and concise, giving Sam a sense of purpose and a small hint of optimism, which he desperately needed at this moment.

-

Meanwhile, Dean was sitting in the Impala, lost in thought for God knows how long when suddenly his passenger side. Sam plopped into the front seat with a heavy sigh, causing Dean’s head to snap in his direction. “Get out the car,” Dean exclaimed sternly. “I’m going with you.” Sam insisted.

“You're just gonna slow me down." Dean growled. “Tough!” Sam sassed. "This is dangerous and you could get hurt!" Dean shouted. “Yeah. And so could you, Dean!” Sam shouted back. Dean was still trying to find a comeback when they suddenly heard the sound of screeching tires.

Their heads whipped around to see Y/N's truck coming to a stop a few yards back from the Impala. Y/N quickly jumped out and sprinted over to them. "What's going on?" Y/N asked breathlessly as she yanked the backdoor open, her wide eyes fixing on Dean with concern.

Dean was taken aback by her sudden appearance, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt seeing her there. "You shouldn't be here," he muttered, struggling against his own desire to reach out and hold her close.

"I don’t care. Sam told me everything. Whatever stupid thing you’re about to do, you’re not doing it alone. And that’s that," Y/N asserted firmly. Sam exchanged a knowing glance with her, silently impressed by her determination. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her, a mix of annoyance and affection.

He knew better than to argue with her once she had her mind set on something. Whether this was really her or not, he’s pretty sure every version of her would fight his stubbornness if she needed to.

His eyes glanced between Sam and Y/N with shock, he could understand why she would be so stubborn, but not Sam. If they weren’t close here, if Dean was so horrible that Sam wanted nothing to do with him, why would Sam stick his neck out for him?

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” Dean asked Sam in confusion. He sighed deeply, tearing his eyes away to face the windshield. “Because you’re still my brother,” Sam muttered. A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she placed a hand on her stomach.

The two words stung Dean, cutting deep into his heart. ‘Still my brother.' His eyes glanced down to Y/N's stomach as she subconsciously placed her hand on it. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, knowing that he would never get to experience that with her.

"Bitch." he smirked at the two, Sam’s brows furrowed in offense as Y/N smiled. “What are you calling me a bitch for?” Sam stuttered, Y/N let out a snort of amusement. “You’re supposed to say, ‘jerk’” Sam’s brows furrowed again. "What?” Sam muttered under his breath as Y/N snickered, Dean rolled his eyes before putting the Impala in drive.

“Nevermind” He huffed. Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder from the backseat, “Asshat” She shot at with a grin. Dean chuckled under his breath in amusement, his chest swelling with the familiarity, “Nutcase”

____________________________________________

Y/N was half asleep in the backseat, her hand resting right over her stomach, lazily tracing circles around the navel through her shirt. She tried to focus on getting a somewhat proper rest having been on the road for more than 12 hours. The hum of Baby’s engine was the only sound that echoed through their ears.

Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N through the rearview mirror, the painful ache in his chest resurfaced as he watched Y/N trace her navel, gently caressing her own stomach, almost as if she was comforting their unborn child before it was even in this world yet.

He wanted so badly to just reach over and do the same, he always knew she’d make a great mother, even if y/n wouldn’t admit it to herself. But he had to pull himself away from that nagging feeling. The voice at the back of his head that was begging him to be selfish for once. He had to focus. He had a mission.

“What’s in the bag?” Sam broke the silence, pointing to the brown paper bag laying next to Dean. Y/N cracked open one of her eyes, “Nothing” Dean huffed, focusing his gaze on the empty dark road. “Nothing?” Sam sassed, “Yeah, nothing” Dean snapped back. “Just open the damn bag, I don’t wanna hear any bickering” Y/N grumbled in annoyance.

Sam scoffed before picking up the back. “Fine” He said, “Fine” Y/N mocked back, earning a glare from him. “You don’t wanna do that” Dean snorted. “Oh, really?” Sam sassed again as he reached into the bag, pulling out a container of lamb’s blood. Y/N gasped theratically as Sam did this, his own eyes widening with shock.

“What the fuck is that?!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing herself up in the backseat. “Blood” Dean shrugged, both Sam and Y/N’s eyes twitched at him. “Yeah, we can see that it’s blood, Dean! What the hell is it doing here?!” Sam shouted. Dean’s smirk widened, “You guys really don’t wanna know” He snorted.

“No, we really do wanna know! We really really do wanna know!” Y/N yelled, crossing her arms over her chest. Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, y’all are gonna find out sooner or later” He sighed, “I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood” Dean explained casually.

The car fell silent, he craned his head to see Sam and Y/N staring back at him with wide eyes, jaws practically touching the floorboards. Dean had to hold back himself from laughing at their faces, the look they had was hysterical.

“You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why!?” Sam exclaimed. “Because there’s this creature, a djinn, and I have to hunt it” Dean stated. Sam and Y/N’s faces dropped, “I let an insane man impregnate me” Y/N muttered to herself, her voice going up and octave as she threw herself back into the seat, looking around in disbelief.

“Okay…stop the car..” Sam began calmly, “I know how it sounds” Dean shot back. “Great. Just….stop the car” Sam tried again, y/n was still staring out the car in disbelief, her jaw hanging. “It’s the truth, guys. There are things out there in the dark. There are bad things. There are nightmare things” Dean insisted, Y/N’s eyes snapped over to him as he continued.

“People have to be saved, if we don’t save them, then nobody will,” Dean said determinedly. Sam and Y/N could feel their heads spinning, trying to make sense of what Dean was saying while still trying to process his previous statement about the silver knife. "You're telling us there's some monster out there you want to hunt?" Y/N asked disbelievingly. "Yeah" Dean said as if it was obvious.

"And you need a silver knife dipped in blood to do it?" She continued, her eyes never leaving his. "Uh-huh" Dean confirmed nonchalantly, his focus still on the road. Sam and Y/N shared a disheveled look. She decided she had had enough, pushing herself over from the backseat and into the middle of the two Winchester boys as Dean drove.

“You’ve gotta be losing it,” Y/N declared, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “And you can’t just go and hunt some ‘djinn’ that supposedly exists, you have no business getting yourself tangled up in something crazy like that!” She cried.

Dean shot her a quick side glance before returning his focus back on the road, “It’s not a ‘supposedly’ thing. These things are real” He stated matter-of-factly. Y/N shook her head in disbelief, her eyes wide, “You’re insane” she muttered.

“Look, man, we wanna help you, alright. We really do but you’re having some kind of psychotic breakdown so…” Sam chimed in, attempting to fish his phone out of his pocket. “I wish” Dean muttered. “Baby…” Y/N said to him tenderly. Dean’s hands tightened around the steering wheel at the soft tone, the nickname making his chest ache with yearning.

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “Save the pet names…you don’t mean it like that” he huffed under his breath, opening his eyes as Sam dialed a number on his phone. Y/N physically flinched at his harsh tone as he rolled down the window and snatched Sam’s phone out of his hand before tossing it out of the window.

“What the fuck was that, Dean?! That was my phone!!” Sam exclaimed, whipping his head around in shock. Y/N’s mouth dropped, “You just threw his fucking phone out of the window!” She gasped. Dean ignored them both, his gaze fixated on the road ahead, “I’m not going to a rubber room Sammy and y/n/n, and we got work to do” Dean said calmly.

“We were just trying to help you out, Dean!” Sam shouted. “We don’t want you to get hurt!” Y/N added, tears brimming in her eyes. That made Dean know for sure this wasn’t his girl, because as much as she was a crybaby for sad movies and cute animal videos, she wasn’t so easy to break. “What, you two protect me?” Dean snorted in amusement.

“Yeah!” Sam and Y/N exclaimed in unison. “Oh, that’s hilarious” Dean chuckled sarcastically, turning back to face the road. “Why don’t you twojust sit tight and try not to get us all killed?” Dean demanded before turning on the radio. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ began booming through the Impala’s deck again.

Sam and Y/N sat back in their seats, speechless after being chewed out by Dean. They exchanged a look before facing the windshield again, both of their minds swirling with thoughts as Dean’s music blared through the stereo. Y/N’s hands slid down to her stomach, gently caressing the skin where their unborn child was growing inside of her.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the familiar warehouse, Sam was passed out in the backseat, snoring rather heavily. After almost accidentally punching Y/N in his sleep, once again, she shunned Sam to the backseat, leaving an unconscious Y/N in the front seat. Her head was nestled in Dean’s lap, using his thighs as a makeshift pillow.

Dean’s hand moved down to Y/N’s hair, his fingers gently stroking the strands. The aching feeling in his chest increased every time he looked down at her sleeping form. His eyes scanned each detail on her face, the curve of her lips, everything.

It has been a long time since he had seen her look so peaceful, she seemed so relaxed and calm as she slept. It was a sharp contrast the way she usually was; stressed, anxious, worried and overthinking about everything.

Dean sighed heavily before fishing his flashlight from his jacket, shining it in both Sam and Y/N’s faces. A wide grin playing on his lips. Sam’s eyebrows crinkled together as the light shined in his face, his eyes fluttering open as he groaned. “Wha—” He muttered, confusion written all over his face. Y/N on the other hand, let out a loud whine.

Twisting in Dean’s lap to face his stomach before shoving her face into his shirt in order to block the bright light. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty and sasquatch” Dean chuckled, shifting in the seat. Sam grumbled incoherently, rubbing the sleep out from his eyes. “Where are we?” He mumbled, still trying to wake himself up.

Y/N remained pressed against Dean’s stomach, trying to fall back into her semi-comprehensive state of sleep. “Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Dean replied with a light chuckle. This made Y/N shoot up from her place in his lap. Dean chuckled again at her reaction, a smirk on his face as he turned off the flashlight.

She narrowed her eyes at him before glaring at Sam, who in turn, gave her a small sheepish smile. She huffed in annoyance before looking out the window. Y/N’s eyes flickered over to the warehouse, the air of the cold night wafted through the open windows, Dean’s body heat couldn’t keep her warm anymore. She shivered slightly, bringing her hands up to wrap her arms around herself.

“We’re in Illinois” Dean answered Sam’s previous question. “And you think something’s there?” Y/N’s voice was thick with sleep as she asked. “I know it is” Dean said firmly, his eyes narrowed at the building with determination. Sam and Y/N exchanged a nervous look before turning back to him.

-

The trio all held their own flashlights up, the abandoned warehouse/ruins Dean remembered he was attacked by the Djinn was exactly the way it was. Thunder clapped outside, bellowing through the dark hall as lightning filled the sky.

Dean led the way, his footsteps echoed through the abandoned hallway as they walked. Y/N stuck by his side while Sam followed behind them. She was starting to get a bad feeling, the warehouse was dark, cold and damp. So instinctively, she reached for her fiancé’s hand, interlocking their fingers together.

“See? There’s nothing here, Dean” Sam insisted. “Look, our parents are gonna be worried sick about us, babe. Come on, let’s just go” Y/N pleaded with Dean. Dean gritted his teeth, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightened slightly. “Shh” he hissed. Sam and Y/N exchanged another nervous look, stopping in their tracks when they heard the sounds of a girl crying. “What the fuck is that?” Sam gasped.

“Both of you, stay behind me and keep your mouths shut” Dean instructed them, his voice laced with authority as he let go of Y/N’s hand, using his body to cover her. His free hand instinctively went to shield her belly. They both nodded, falling behind him as he moved forward. The crying got louder with every step they took.

Sam and Y/N’s eyes went as wide as saucers when their eyes landed on the decomposing corpses of a man and a woman. The same ones Dean saw back at his ‘house’. Y/N brought a hand to her mouth, a sick churning in her stomach at the sight of the dead bodies. The urge to puke was poking at her as Dean kept his face stoic, the confirmation that none of this was real was creeping up on him and it devastated him.

“What the fuck?” Sam gasped again, swallowing thickly as Dean’s eyes flicked over to a young girl who was tied up by her wrists. She had a large gash in her throat, her skin looked dirty, as though she hadn’t bathed in months. But she still looked somewhat alive, his eyes piercing into Dean’s.

It was the girl that was haunting him. Dean moved closer to the girl as Y/N reached over to grip Sam’s shoulder, trying to hold up her balance. The urge to puke was growing stronger. “Dean, wait…” Y/N mumbled, her words almost incoherent with the bile threatening to rise up her throat. He didn’t listen, only moved forward.

The girl was staring back at him, her eyes bloodshot and dark. “Dean, don’t” Sam spoke up, watching the scene unfold. But Dean still didn’t listen, he went straight up to the girl, crouching down to her. She tilted her head to the side, as if to study him. “It’s her,” Dean gasped as the realization hit him.

It confused them how Dean knew this girl, but they still felt the need to help her. For Y/N, seeing the young girl in such a state brought out the maternal instincts she never knew she had. “Dean, what’s going on?” She asked urgently, attempting to reach over to untie the girl, along with Sam. But Dean stopped them, “Shhh” He hushed them when he heard footsteps.

Quickly and quietly, they all hid behind a large tank as the Djinn entered the room. The young girl was shaking as the heavily tattooed creature padded over to her, “Where’s my dad? I don’t know.” The young girl sobbed, her voice absolutely desperate and broke. The Djinn didn’t answer, he just inched towards the girl whose feet were hanging slightly off the ground.

“No. Don’t. No. Where’s my dad?” She pleaded weakly as she tried to shuffle away but it was no use. The djinn brought his hand up to her face, placing his fingertips to the sobbing girl’s face, “Sleep” He said, his fingers lighting a small glow of white before fully expanding into a large dark blue light. The girl shivered in his touch, “Sleep…” He said again, caressing her cheek.

The girl soon fell unconscious as the Djinn placed a sickening kiss on her cheek before unhooking the saline bag that was hanging on an IV stand. He then brought the bloodied thin clear hose to his mouth, ingesting her blood.

Y/N felt sick to her stomach, her throat closing up at the scene unfolding in front of her. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, it was like she was completely frozen, not able to move or break her view from the girl.

Sam wasn’t faring much better, a visible shiver shot through him at the sight. His head felt like it was spinning when the djinn started feeding off the girl, his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly parted.

Dean, on the other hand, had never felt so angry. His body was tense and his jaw clenched.

Y/N couldn’t hold it back anymore, the bile in her throat built up and she immediately let chunks blew all over Sam’s shoes, causing the younger Winchester to gag in disgust as both the scene unfolding and the sight of the djinn drinking the girl’s blood.

“Agh, Jesus!” Sam hissed, lowly. But it seemed like the djinn didn’t notice, it’s back was turned and it was still in the middle of feeding. But Dean caught the sound of Sam’s gag and Y/N’s heaving, he shot the pair a glare and held his finger up to his lips, signaling them to stay quiet.

The djinn finally finished feeding, letting out a satisfied moan as it pulled the hose out of its mouth. A chilling smile crept across its lips as it left the room. “This is real? You’re not crazy?” Y/N began to hyperventilate along with Sam as she wiped her mouth, buckling over as a pain struck at her stomach.

“She didn’t know where she was. She thought she was with her father” Dean muttered, the wheels turning in his head. The boys then stepped out from behind the tank, moving closer to the girl. Sam held up a weak Y/N, his arm draping around her midsection as Dean clenched his fists.

“What if that’s what the Djinn does? It doesn’t grant you a wish. I just- it makes you think you has” Dean swallowed harshly. He was hoping that somehow, someway, it could’ve just been a super fucked up wish. And he could’ve fixed his relationships with his family. Finally get on F/N’s good side. Be a better brother, be a better fiancé….be a better father.

“Look man, that thing can come back, alright? And we need to get Y/N to a hospital, she’s weak” Sam pleaded with Dean as Y/N’s head tumbled on his shoulder. But Dean didn’t hear him, all he heard was a ringing in his ears, his head snapping to the other side of the room where a light shone over head.

Dean slowly stepped closer to the light, flashes of his own body hanging from a ceiling filled his vision. Causing the elder Winchester to choke on his own spit, his throat constricted as air refused to enter his lungs. “Dean, baby. Please” Y/N’s weak voice pleaded with him. “What if I’m like her?” Dean finally let himself say out loud. “What if I’m tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?”

Part of him knew, that voice nagging him at the back of his head knew. “I mean, it could, you know…maybe give us some kind of supernatural acid and then just feeds on us slow,” Dean muttered as he studied the girl’s face. Sam’s jaw dropped at Dean’s words, his brain going into overthinking mode, he was about to say something but stopped when he heard a low whimper come from Y/N.

Her head was heavy on his shoulder. “No, Dean, that doesn’t make sense, okay,” Sam gaped. Y/N’s weak eyes flickered to Dean once more, her breath was slightly ragged and labored from when she had puked. “Please” Y/N croaked, clinging onto Sam. Dean turned to face them.

“What if that’s why she keeps appearing to me? She’s not a spirit. It’s like more and more I’m catching reality flashes. You know? like I’m in here somewhere, I’m catatonic. I’m taking all this stuff in but I can’t snap out of it” Dean put the pieces together.

Y/N, weak as she was, peeled herself from Sam and forced herself to walk over to Dean, her legs were shaking and it was hard to keep herself standing upright But she reached out for him, her hand landing on his arm. “Dean” She gasped. “Look, you’re right. We were wrong, you’re not crazy. But please, we need to get out of here. Fast.” She pleaded, her words coming out thick and choked, trying not to puke again.

Y/N ran her hands up the back of his neck but it made Dean feel sick rather than safe. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, clenching his jaw before roughly pushing her off. Luckily, Sam caught her before she could hit the ground. Y/N and Sam both went wide-eyed at Dean’s sudden roughness. Y/N’s face crumbled, her expression filled with hurt as her eyes began to water. “Dean?” She whispered, her voice so fragile.

But Dean’s face was hard and emotionless, his eyes darkened as he stared back at her. “What the fuck man?! She’s pregnant!” Sam exclaimed as he carefully helped Y/N back onto her feet, his arms held protectively around her. “I don’t think you’re real” Dean gaped, feeling as though he had been shot in the heart. “I don’t think either of you are real.” Dean shook his head, slowly backing away from them.

Y/N let out a choked sob, her bottom lip quivered, the urge to keep herself together was getting weaker. Her head fell into her hand while Sam looked ready to punch some sense into his brother’s head.

He gritted his teeth before helping Y/N to lean on something before storming over to his brother, shaking his roughly. “Did you feeling that? You feel this? I’m real! Y/N is real and so is your goddamn baby! This is not an acid trip! We’re real and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now please” Sam pleaded with Dean, his tone filled with desperation.

Dean’s face remained stoic, “There’s one way to be sure” He clenched his jaw before retracting the silver knife from his jacket pocket. He then raised the knife towards Sam. “Woah, Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah! Stop!” Sam cried, his hands shot up into the air, as if to surrender. Scuffling over to shield Y/N who was still clutching her stomach, writhing in pain. But Dean didn’t believe it for one second.

“Dean, what are you doing, man? What are you doing?” He pleaded with Dean, his eyes widened in panicked confusion. “It’s an old-wives tale. If you’re about to die in a dream, you wake up” Dean stated. Sam’s face fell, he knew exactly what Dean was going to do. “No, no, no, no. That’s crazy, alright?!” He protested. “Maybe” Dean shrugged.

Y/N’s head perked up, her eyes widened at Dean’s words as she finally understood what he was about to do. “Dean, no, don’t!” She shouted as Sam used his arm to stop her from approaching Dean. “You’re gonna kill yourself- Okay!” Sam exclaimed when he tried to apprehend Dean but he drew the knife on them in a warning manner. “Or I’m gonna wake up” Dean shot back.

“One or the other” Dean breathed heavily. “Look, this isn’t a dream, alright? We’re here, with you, now, and you are about to kill yourself, charming” Y/N pleaded with him, her voice sounding suddenly stronger. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, “No, I’m pretty sure” He growled, “Like….90 percent sure” He blinked before turning the knife on him, ready to stab himself.

“Wait!!” Sam bellowed. Dean’s head snapped over to the side when he saw the figure of two women, one in a white nightgown and the other in a black. Mary Winchester and M/N L/N approached Dean with sweet smiles on their faces. His heart dropped in his chest as he watched from all corners. Jess appeared, then F/N from another corner.

Y/N was suddenly healthy and well again, slowly walking up to Dean. “Why’d you have to keep digging? Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?” She asked, her voice wasn’t sounding much like her own. “You were happy.” Sam added as Mary and M/N moved and began walking besides Y/N. “Put the knife down, honey” M/N said gently.

“Listen to her, Dean,” Mary added just as tenderly. Dean was frozen in place, his eyes wide, shifting from side to side as the women in this nightmare, his nightmare, advanced towards him. His heart was hammering in his chest, he looked like he was ready to have a panic attack. The knife loosened on his grip as he looked over to Y/N, his eyes wide like a frightened child.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

“You’re not real” Dean’s lip trembled, tearing welling up in his eyes to say this to his mother and M/N, subconsciously tightening the knife in his grips. All three women frowned, “None of it is” He spat. His eyes glancing down to Y/N’s stomach, he felt as thought he had been shot, once again.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still better than anything you had” Mary said encouragingly. “What?” Dean gasped. “It’s everything you want. We’re a family again” M/N added, offering Dean a small smile. “Let’s go home,” She urged him. “But I’ll die,” Dean’s voice broke.

“The djinn’ll drain the life outta me in a couple of days” He shook his head, part of him wanted to be selfish and take the offer but his conscience wouldn’t let him. “But I’m here with us, it’ll feel like years…” Y/N chimed in, taking Dean’s hand into hers to place it on her stomach. “…like a lifetime”

Dean’s breath hitched at Y/N’s words. He was torn between selfish temptation and morality, his mind was fighting with itself. The feeling of his child under his hand was so real and it was making him falter.

The tears began to fall down Dean’s pale cheeks, he looked absolutely heartbroken. He didn’t know what to do, the women around him had everything he ever wanted but it wasn’t real. None of it was real. His throat was tight, he could feel the bile rising from his stomach but he tried to hold it in.

Mary brought her hand up to caress Dean’s cheek and M/N took Dean’s free hand in his. “We promise. No more pain or fear.” Mary said sweetly as Dean nuzzled his cheek into her hand and tightened his grip on M/N’s hand. “Just love, comfort and safety” M/N added in an urging tone.

Dean’s eyes reopened, still trained on his palm that was resting on Y/N’s stomach. Both mothers stepped back, allowing Y/N to wrap her arms around Dean, running her fingers through the nape of his neck. “Dean. Stay with us. Let’s go home and get some rest” Y/N pleaded.

Dean’s eyes met with Y/N’s, staring into those gorgeous (e/c) irises that he’ll never get tired of looking into. She looked so beautiful, so healthy. It was too good to be true. The idea of her bearing his child, them being parents together, the idea of her actually loving him back was all too good to be true for Dean. His lip quivered as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing his thumb on her soft skin.

“You don’t have to worry about Sam anymore. You get to watch him live a full life” Jessica chimed in. Dean’s brows creased as his chest ached. Y/N leaned up to capture Dean’s lips into a gentle slow kiss. The kiss was long and tender, it felt so real, and it was making this so much more painful for Dean.

He could feel his heart breaking as tears continued to fall down his face, a strangled gasp escaped from him. But Y/N didn’t let go. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hand remained firm on her stomach. She pulled away for a breath, her bottom lip trembled as she leaned her forehead against his, “We can finally have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, charming” She whispered.

“Please” Y/N pleaded, the look of desperation in her eyes was enough to bring Dean to a puddle, it took all in him not to crack right there and give in. He stubbornly shook his head, “No you don’t….at least, not like that” Dean whispered back, his voice hoarse as he once again denied Y/N’s love for him.

A frown took over Y/N’s beautiful face, her eyes watering up as the words stung her. “Yes, I do” She insisted, her hands moving up to cup his face so he wouldn’t look away, to look her in the eye. “Dean, I do, I love you” Her voice was pleading, she wasn’t lying. The words were written all over her face, her heart was laying bare for him.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

It was Sam’s turn, the younger Winchester stepped forward and Y/N released her loose grip on Dean. “Why is it our job to save everyone?” Sam asked in a calm voice. “Haven't we done enough?” He added, the look of despair on his brother’s face was extreme to the point where Sam was willing to do anything to keep Dean here.

“I’m begging you. Give me the knife” Sam begged him. Dean’s eyes trailed the room. They went to F/N, who was yet to say a word, but he had an encouraging look on his face. “Give him the knife, son” He finally said. Dean’s eyes then went to Jessica, before trailing over to Mary, M/N, Sam and finally Y/N. He gave her stomach one last look before leaning down to press a kiss to it.

Y/N’s lip curled into a small sad smile as he pressed a tender kiss to her stomach before drawing back to stare solemnly into her eyes. They were glossy with tears, she didn’t say anything, afraid that her voice would betray her. Dean’s eyes softened slightly as he stared down at the woman he loved.

His throat was as tight as it was before, but it felt more painful now. His heart ached, it hurt to say what he was going to say next. “I’m sorry, princess,” He murmured. With that, Dean reared the knife back before driving it into his stomach. A chorus of cries filled the room. “DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed.

Reality, 2007

Joliet, Illinois

“DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed when they stormed the ruined warehouse with Jo, guns blazing, all armed with silver knives dipped in lamb’s blood. Y/N’s stomach dropped, suppressing a scream when she saw Dean tied up from his wrists, a bag of his blood that was being drained was propped on an IV stand. He looked as pale as ever.

Y/N, Sam, and Jo advanced into the room further, eyes locked on Dean. She felt her stomach twist painfully as she took him in; bloody, bruised, pale. He was unconscious, most likely from the blood loss, he was too weak to lift his head.

“Dean” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky as her mind ran a mile a minute. Just staring at him was making her want to break down and cry. “Oh, God. Come on” Sam pleaded as he reholstered his gun and began shaking his brother.

“Dean, sweetie, please” Y/N begged, placing both her palms to his cheeks, gently tapping him as his eyes fluttered open. Jo reached down into Y/N’s boots to take out the butterfly knife she had stored there, flickering it open.

“Oh, Auntie Em. There’s no place like home” Dean moaned and groaned from the loss of blood. “Thank God, I thought we lost you for a second” Sam breathed out in relief, the pain clear in his voice. “Y’all almost did” Dean grunted, his face creasing with pain as Y/N yanked the IV needle from his neck.

“Come on, let’s get you down” Jo said quietly as she began to cut away at the ropes. Sam and Y/N held Dean up, not seeing the Djinn that appeared behind them. “Sam! Y/N!” Dean screamed, warning them. The sound of Dean’s voice, screaming their names, made the pair of them whip their heads around in horror.

The sight of the djinn made them both freeze for millisecond, stunned. The two instantly kicked into action, attacking the Djinn while Jo desperately tried to cut away quickly at the stubborn roping, bounding Dean’s wrists.

Both hunters tried to stab the Djinn with their knives but it was faster and stronger than them, it dodged their attack, gripping them by their wrists.

“Come on, hurry up!” Dean yelled at Jo, yanking at his wrists. “I’m trying!” Jo screamed back, quickening her pace, the two were horrified.

Y/N raised her foot, high kicking the Djinn across his face (thank you cheerleading) dazzling the creature. He backhanded Sam into a railing, the hunter went headfirst into it, also dazzled. The Djinn suddenly grabbed hold of Y/N’s throat, a gasp left her at the unexpected attack. It yanked her backwards, holding her in its grip.

Y/N struggled in his grip as he picked Sam up by his throat, attempting to squeeze the life force out of the two. Y/N reached her hand out in an attempt to summon her discarded knife on the ground with her mind but it was no use, the lack of air was causing her to grow light headed, her focus was minimal.

She was losing her touch as darkness slowly crept into vision, her eyelids grew heavier as she struggled to keep eye contact with Sam, who was equally as dizzy. She could see Sam flailing about, his lips moving but Y/N couldn’t hear him through the loud, continuous buzz that was ringing in her ears.

Suddenly, Dean and Jo appeared behind the Djinn, the younger huntress buried the knife in the Djinn’s spine. A sickening pierce echoed through the room as the Djinn groaned, gargling on his own blood. Her face contorted with anger as she twisted the knife for good measure.

They watched as the Djinn collapsed to the floor with a strangled moan, his grip loosening on the two, allowing both Sam and Y/N to break from his grip. Y/N let out a strangled cough, filling her lungs with oxygen and trying to regain her breath.

Dean turned his head to look at Y/N and Sam, who were both slumped against the flooring, both dazed. “Hey! You two okay?” He asked urgently, placing his hands on both their shoulders. “Yeah” Sam croaked, his voice hoarse when he swallowed. “Fine” Y/N nodded, reaching up to her neck to feel the aching skin where he gripped her.

Jo breathed out in relief as she crouched down to place her hand on Sam’s cheek. Sam winced as he leaned his cheek into Jo’s warm gentle touch on his face. The pair stared at each other for a moment, both glad the other was okay.

Sam was the first to break eye contact, he forced himself up from the floor, letting out a sigh, his legs felt like jelly. His eyes shifted over to Y/N, he extended his hand out to her, silently asking if she was okay. Y/N looked at him, letting out a shaky breath and nodded, taking his outstretched hand in hers.

Dean then suddenly remembered the girl from his dream, his head snapping behind him to see her tied up the same way he was. His face fell with instant sorrow when he saw her bound state, she was in a gown that was torn, her hair was messy and disheveled, her face was pale and lifeless.

Dean felt anger as he began to approach the girl, his legs stumbling as he attempted to stand up. His legs were still weak and wobbly from the Djinn venom. Dean brought his fingers up and pressed it to the side of her neck. His eyes widened when he felt the light thumping of a pulse, “She’s still alive, guys!” Dean exclaimed with relief as Jo reached up and cut the girl down and Dean retracted the IV needle from her neck.

Dean cradled the almost lifeless girl in his hands, “I got you. I got you. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? I got you. I got you” Dean breathed out, even though weak, he held her up in his hands. Y/N smiled to herself as she watched Dean cradle the girl, his voice was soft and gentle as he murmured soft little reassurances to her.

Shushing her as if he was trying to soothe a child. She and Sam shared a concerned look however as Jo frowned. All fearful and unwilling to imagine what Dean went through in just a span of a few hours.

____________________________________________

Dean was sitting on his bed in the motel room, reading one of Y/N’s playboy magazine’s while Sam was on the phone with the hospital and Jo was lounging on Sam’s bed. Y/N was making a cup of tea for Dean, per her request, to bring his strength back up.

“Okay, uh, thank you so much for the update. Okay, bye” Sam said into the phone before hanging up. “That was the hospital. The girl’s been stabilized. Good chance she’s gonna pull through” Sam informed Dean, who just nodded in return. “That’s good,” Dean grunted. “Yeah” Sam sighed, settling in the bed next to Jo.

Y/N returned to Dean’s bed, handing him the cup of tea. “How about you? You alright?” She asked gently. “Yeah, I’m all right, thanks” Dean cleared his throat, unable to keep eye contact with her as he accepted the cup of tea. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unconvinced look.

“You should’ve seen it, guys. Our lives…” Dean sighed. “You were such a wussy” Dean shot at Sam jokingly, making the room erupt in chuckles. “You weren’t there man, sorry” He said to Jo. “No worries” Jo chuckled, shaking her head. Dean took a small sip of the warm tea, making sure to not burn himself.

“So we all didn’t get along then, huh?,” Sam asked. Dean’s brows raised suddenly, “Well- Nope” He replied bluntly, shaking his head. Y/N sat down next to him on the bed. “At all?” She asked, raising a suspicious brow. “Yeah nope” He chuckled dryly, lying through his pearly white teeth, taking another sip of the drink.

“Man, I couldn’t imagine us not getting along” Sam muttered, the look of disbelief on his face matched the other two. “I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy” Y/N sighed, crossing one leg over another. “It wasn’t- It was just a wish” Dean cut her off, his eyes trained on his tea.

“Yeah, I wished for Mom and M/N to live. If they never died, F/N would’ve never told dad about hunting. And we all just never…uh…you know” Dean said sadly. The other three had frowns on their faces, feeling the pain they all could relate to in him. It was a hard life they led, full of loss and suffering, they all felt it.

“Well I’m glad we do” Sam said, “And I’m glad you dug yourself out Dean” Jo added, both meaning their heartfelt words. “Dean,” Y/N said quietly, placing her hand on his leg. “Most people wouldn’t have had the strength. They would’ve just stayed.” She assured him.

Dean lifted his gaze from the tea, meeting Y/N’s comforting eyes. “Yeah, well. Lucky me” He replied with a small dry smile, his eyes scanning her face. Dean’s eyes flickered over to Jo and Sam, both were staring at each other deeply. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I gotta tell you though, Sammy. You had Jess, you were gonna give mom grandkids. And Y/N…your dad was alive and you were gonna get married to Xander” Dean lied.

Sam’s head snapped up, an uncomfortable look instantly appeared on his face. “Yeah,” He replied awkwardly, rubbing his face. This wasn’t exactly a topic he enjoyed talking about. A frown set on Jo’s face, she knew about what happened to Jess after Sam gave her a deep dive of his life and she did the same with him.

Y/N saw the frown appear Jo’s face, immediately coming to her defense. “Yeah, but, Dean, it wasn’t real. Nothing that happened in your head was real, nor will it ever be” Y/N told him gently. Dean paused for a minute, feeling as though he had been shot for a third time.

His heart was practically ripped from his chest at her words. Dean clenched his jaw, “I know….but I wanted to stay.” He confessed gruffly before gulping down a mouthful of tea. His eyes glanced down at Y/N’s stomach, memories of the Djinn’s world were still fresh in his head. “I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since F/N and Dad….all I could- all I could think about is how much this job’s cost us”

“We have all lost so much..w-we have sacrificed so much” All three of them stared at Dean, surprised at his confession. “We know,” Y/N affirmed gently, her eyes staring at him with a mix of understanding and sadness. Sam nodded in agreement, the pain and suffering was something they all had. “But people are alive because of you. It’s worth it, Dean” Sam countered.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “It is, man. And- it’s not fair. And- you know- it hurts like hell” Jo chimed in, scoffing dryly. “But like Sam said, it’s worth it” She assured him. “And you’ve got us” Y/N reminded him softly. All three hunter’s eyes were on him, their faces were sincere.

Dean swallowed deeply, his eyes glanced back down at his tea. A small part of him wished he was still in the dream. Y/N nudged him gently, “Hey” She whispered, bringing up her pinky. “I pinky promise” She smiled softly.

A small smile cracked on the corner of his mouth, a small chuckle left his lips. Dean gently raised his hand and linked his pinky with hers. “There, you can’t break a pinky promise” She winked, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

____________________________________________

Authors Note: “yOu CaNt BrEaK a PiNkY pRoMiSe” oh sweet summer child, just you wait until the next episode💀 (as someone who takes pinky promises very seriously, I’m already in tears)

ANYWAYS, did I break your heart? Did I make things better? Or are you plotting my demise?😂😂😂

I hope everyone loves this one! Be sure to tell me what you loved or what you hated, I can’t wait to hear your feedback🥰

Thanks for reading and have an amazing day loves!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

[probablyasocialecologist]

The cultural landscape within the age of global capital leaves much to be desired. Looking out across any small town, suburb, or city in the United States we can detect two yellow glints: McDonald’s arches poking up into the sky, competing with the white church steeples that used to dominate the horizon. The glaring signs of fast-food chains and the endless sound bites of telecommunications are tropes of a brave new service economy, an economy that has been equated with the de-spiritualization of culture itself. Capitalist standardization and regularization have encroached into our everyday lives, reducing social, cultural, and political relationships to ‘consumer’ and ‘producer’ as we buy and sell standardized food, infotainment, health care, new age religion, education, and even political representatives. In turn, as the cultural landscape succumbs to social alienation and erosion, the ‘natural’ landscape deteriorates as well. Each night, newscasters announce the arrival of yet another ‘endangered species’ or a ‘disaster of the week’, another hurricane, tornado, earthquake, or flood resulting from greenhouse-induced climatic instability. And while the natural world is literally disintegrating, it is also being rationalized on unprecedented levels—reduced to genetic ‘natural resources’ to be surveyed, patented, and sold for profit.

Chaia Heller, Ecology of Everyday Life: Rethinking the Desire for Nature

[airas-story]

https://www.tumblr.com/dylan-rodrigues/774853142469836800/just-fell-to-my-knees-in-the-office-because-the?source=share

It would be perfect if Stephen was CEO.

They’d done it. Universal healthcare had been touted as impossible in the US, but New York had proved it could work. New York’s trial period was considered a rousing success.

She turned away from the office celebrations as the newscaster on the break room’s tv continued their report on other states eager to follow New York’s lead. 

Had Stephen heard? When he’d left surgery to become a chief executive for NYHS—New York’s Health Service—she’d been shocked, even more so when he’d asked her to join him. Stephen was meant to be a surgeon, not an executive. But Stephen had made it work.

She came to a sharp stop as she reached the hallway to his office. Stephen had just exited. Was he—?

He was. 

Tony was with him. Not unusual. Here at NYHS, Tony was Stephen’s right hand, the one who helped Stephen combine his understanding of the medical world with the brutal world of business and politics. What was unusual was the way they walked hand in hand, intimate but comfortable, like it was the most natural thing.

This was…

Well, unexpected.

Or maybe… Maybe it wasn’t so unexpected. The two had always made an exceptional team.

[krispdreemurr]

so disclaimers before I begin: I have been semi-consciously avoiding anything but the most basic of takes on ch3 bc i am allergic to writing other people’s characters where they can see. so this is just me and my dear friends beyond I think I saw another lesbian tenna and liked that. also none of this is like “how I think canon will be” it’s just for funsies

so, Mike! (she/they)

[art thanks to @everyone-needs-a-hoopoe ! please behold their pop filter. they’ll bap you with it.]

mike and tenna [he/him but in a lesbian way] are old colleagues, working on the same all-consuming dark world tv network together. tenna quickly became the shining star holding it all together, while Mike stuck mainly to backstage work. she was honestly content with that; she was always better at making other people shine than being seen herself, and was happy with that.

(continued under read more)

however, as time passed and Toriel irl stopped watching TV and so on, Tenna got frustrated and increasingly status-conscious and more and more worked up. he wanted so badly to draw attention back and to be known again, and it was kind of eating him up inside.

mike took it on themself to try and fix things.

she did research, she went exploring, she wandered far backstage… and eventually, of course, she met a man.

she came back to Tenna with tips and tricks, better understandings of the world, and Tenna, caught up in his own world, took Mike’s new passion as being about Mike wanting fame herself. he was more than happy to oblige his old friend, and got her an air slot and an interview show. this was… not what Mike had wanted, at all, but she was too caught up to not go along.

and for a while it kind of worked? with the Insights Mike was getting, she was able to run an incisive, sharp show, probing at the deepest secrets of her guests. tenna seemed delighted by it all, encouraging mike to put on more of a character and go further and further, while meanwhile the man in the dark encouraged Mike to look further and further for answers.

and during this time, through the man’s guidance, she even made a friend! she helped him get his ads on air and told him to never give up on his dreams, and he told her to never stop getting bigger and to push herself beyond any limit she thought she had. they were close companions, and definitely didn’t enable each other’s worst tendencies or anything.

it wasn’t sustainable, though. finally they burned out. on air, they went into a long rant about all the truths of the world, swinging wildly between false tv-ready personas, less and less coherent, until Tenna cut the channel and ordered them out.

she’s been on the fringes and in the backstage since, trying to find some truth, some way to make things right again. she remembers one thing the man told her - that there was a power that could be used to restart from the beginning and tell the story all over. maybe if she got another shot, this time…

when the three-four heroes appear, she’s on their side, at first, or at least providing neutral ground. she wants to get Tenna and the Lightners to talk it out and make it work. when that backfires, though, well. maybe they have some demands to make of Kris.

object-wise, she’s mostly just part of the TV nature, but she takes some from a radio newscaster Kris fell asleep listening to on a long drive sometime in the distant past. her Secret Boss Speech Quirk is that she can only ask questions - she’s a microphone, her role is to amplify what others are thinking, not to make her own thoughts known.

in terms of “things to make Kris have a meltdown” - I’ve talked a lot about kris having to choose the flashy showmanship of a dark world over a quiet night with a friend, about how despite everything they hope that by being the hero and leader they can be known and loved a little… but a role in the spotlight that doesn’t suit them is always bound to crush them in the end. mike is proof that forcing yourself to be something you’re not to earn love and affection from those you care for is always going to end with you being even more alone than before.

there may also be room for some parallels of her and Ralsei, with her frantic wants to help, smooth everything over, and be loved. admittedly I've thought less on this angle but like Ralsei does deserve his own parallel weird themlet

she really needs better taste in women.

[bxtxnx]

The one and only piece on T-squares you will ever need to read, because I know this thing the best.

I was just looking up posts on T-squares yet again to see if I can find the answer to dealing with them, since I have two in my chart and let me tell you, it's rough.

Alsa, no matter how much I search, nothing especially note-worthy comes up and it further proved to me that I know this placement better than anyone.

So listen up, girls, guys and other persons of interest. Because no one else knows the T-squares as well as I do.

To get the formalities out of the way for those that don't know - a T-square is formed by two planets that are in an opposition to each other, plus a third planet forming a square to both of these planets. This ends up looking like a nice, big, red triangle in your chart.

Some people say that the solution to the T-square is in the so called "empty leg", others say that you need to look for positive aspects to the T-square (sextiles and trines), because they are the solution and the fix for the T-square, which causes a person to remain stagnant in their life, unable to achieve anything no matter how much effort they put in.

That's wrong.

The empty leg won't help you, a positive aspect won't help you either.

With the T-square, you have to go to the eye of the storm, you have to deal with it head on. The solution to the T-square is in it's apex, it's focal point, aka the planet that is forming a square to the other two planets.

When a planet is at the apex of the T-square, it becomes so prominent, that it starts acting like a personal placement. Having Mars at the apex of a T-square affects you in the same way an Aries Sun will. And you deal with MAJOR issues related to that planet. That planet is a source of great struggles related to it's nature, but it also brings you your greatest success and achievements.

Make sure you remember the following keywords:

Mars: aggression, violence, competition, being the first, ambition

Saturn: challenges, delays, limitation, positions of high status, high positions in the hierarchy

Pluto: transformations, crisis, critical life and death situations, sexual things

Uranus: society, standing out and being unique, groups of people

Oprah Winfrey has a T-square with Mars at the apex, Soyeon of (G)-IDLE has one with Saturn at the apex, Megan Thee Stallion - a T-square with Pluto at the apex, BTS - Uranus at the apex.

Oprah with her Mars at the apex of her T-square has dealt with violence and assaults since was a child. Her bio online says "...she is a living symbol of the self-made person in spite of all odds." This one sentence alone shows the manifestation of her Mars apex - her fighting spirit.

She has won beauty pageants while in university, her Mars once again acting up (but in a positive way), by helping her thrive in competitions.

After leaving college, she became the first female and first black newscaster in Nashville. See the pattern?

Soyeon of (G)-IDLE with her Saturn at the apex of her T-square and her fellow members of the group weren't able to debut, because their label didn't give them a song fitting for the group. One song after the other, no song was a good fit for the group to record and make their debut with. A delay and a challenge, courtesy of Saturn.

So, what did Soyeon do? Decided to write her own song and pitch it to the label. In the end, (G)-IDLE debuted with the song LATATA, written by Soyeon.

Over the years, Soyeon has been the producer of the group, creating and overseeing the recording of the songs; she has been the creative director of the group, coming up with and overseeing the concepts, among many other things she has been doing.

All of this shows how impactful Saturn at the apex of her T-square is - she deals with struggles and challenges in her path and she takes the difficult path of dealing with them on her own, even when she is surrounded by people more competent in a particular sphere. She deals with the issues and assumes high positions in the hierarchy (in her case - producer / creative director) and becomes an authority in her sphere.

Pluto at the apex of Megan Thee Stallion's T-square has forced her to deal with some pretty traumatizing things. Losing her mother and great-grandmother in the same month, getting shot and dealing with a lawsuit and problems with her label which affected her work.

Despite all of this, Megan has proven to be a survivor, being able to get out of various crises fairly well, enough to be able to keep moving forward. This shows the true power of Pluto, being able to survive and thrive after the darkest of times. The sexual nature of her lyrics is also another way Pluto is able to drive Megan to success.

BTS with their T-square having Uranus at the apex are the epitome of all things Uranuan. Just the fact that they are a group of seven members is one step to Uranus bringing them success.

That success didn't come immediately though. When the group first debuted, they stood out but not in a good way. They were ostracized and made fun of both by the public and by their colleagues in the industry.

Because they came from a small entertainment company which didn't have a lot of funds, the group wasn't able to receive the type of promotions and marketing other groups from more established companies do, so the group took a different approach to marketing themselves with vlogs and videos of the members dancing and singing, plus other types of videos.

In the end, BTS' unique sound, plus their songs full of social commentary took them where they are today, while the promotional content the group made, made them stand out and become the blueprint for promotional marketing of K-pop groups, with many other groups following in their footsteps and doing the same types of content and shows that they did.

This is why I say the apex of the T-square is extremely important in a chart. It's as important as your Sun. It is what brings you the biggest challenges, but also the biggest rewards.

If you have a Mars apex, you need to live like an Aries by being a fighter and always chasing the next achievement, if you have a Jupiter apex, you need to live like a Sagittarius - constantly absorbing new knowledge to the point you become a walking encyclopedia and being loud and flamboyant.

This is it. While the other planets in the T-square also play their roles and have their influence, this is how a T-square works and is dealt with. This is how a T-square goes from keeping you stagnant, running in one place, to the fastest vehicle that takes you to the greatest heights. ☽

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Predictions for 2025 bc it would be funny if they came true

Trump dies on international women's day

Elon musk has an unlikely incident qith a cactus that results in him taking up religion

The next natural disaster is given a strong password style name just to watch newscasters struggle to pronounce

The one vaster who gets it right is legally allowed to dab on live tv

Lightning strikes certain bald aussie politician right on the head

The weird blonde racist fronting clive palmer's party is mysteriously boomeranged hard enough her entire personality changes and she assassinates her sith overlord

The crab rave shall play 5 times this year

A new dinosaur or fossil type appears baffling and delighting the scientific community

People who thought themselves incapable of love have a surprise coming

A new flavour is created and shoved in our faces until the whole world decides its just Bad

Vegemite flavoured condoms are briefly a fad

The next teen fad involves bluey tattoos

[donkeys-waffles]

Alright ya'll I've got another fic for you. It's short and straight up crack, and very little of it is treated seriously but here it is. I think the chapters are gonna be pretty short, so I'll post them here and on AO3. It's not gonna be like Before Snow Falls where it has set update times, it's a free for all. If you have any suggests for chapters, go ahead I might write them... Again, a true free for all. Enjoy!!!

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“I am a great father.” Hisashi uttered to himself, scrubbing his haggard face with cold water, he felt the weight of the last few months upon his shoulders.  

Hisashi was a great father, so naturally, when he noticed his six-year-old son come home from school with bruises he investigated.  

Quirkless discrimination and the threat of a lawsuit later, Izuku was pulled from that retched school. Izuku cried, Hisashi stood his ground, and the boy was relocated to a private school. It was expensive, the uniforms stuffy and colorless, but Hisashi paid a pretty penny to keep his son safe. Something the school was willing to accommodate with the right price tag.  

With Izuku’s protection assured, Hisashi thought he could rest easy, grossly underestimating his son’s penchant for troublemaking.  

Izuku, being the little leader he was, made a friend. It was a small boy with red and white hair, a child Hisashi truly couldn’t remember the name of. The only remarkable characteristic of this new friend was his quirk, fire and ice, it was unique, causing both him and Izuku to grin widely at the prospects of such an ability.  

He was proud, his son was already creating an army, so much sooner than Hisashi ever did.  

It was grand, heartwarming, and perfectly peaceful.  

Until Izuku ran into Hisashi’s arms after a playdate with his friends family, sobbing. Things changed then.  

Izuku’s friend was covered in bruises, marks and scratches that Izuku hadn’t caught onto yet, until he did. And Hisashi sighed as Izuku learned early, that not every Papa was a good one.  

The child had confided in Izuku, and the boy responded with tears but a fire so mighty it could melt any ice, Hisashi was sure of it.  

“We need to help them, Papa!” Izuku had announced, rubbing the last remaining tears from his cheeks.  

“We’ve just gotta do something.” He repeated, quieter.  

Warm fingers carded through the boys curls, shushing him.  

And...  

He was a great father, Hisashi told himself as the light blue glow of the television illuminated the small apartment.  

Inko sat beside him, stock still, as the newscaster relayed the heart retching news.  

“Number two hero: Endeavor, found dead this afternoon during his patrol of downtown Musutafu.” The newscaster explained, “It’s unsure what villain could have been responsible, but Pro heroes are currently looking into it.” She drawled, but Hisashi could barely pay attention, feeling Inko’s eyes carve into his face.  

“That’s terrible.” Inko uttered, hands folded in her lap. Hisashi knew there was no genuine grief behind her statement, not with the biting edge of her voice. He smiled back then, grinning ear to ear, knowing she only regretted not getting her hands on Endeavor first.  

He was a great father... Peace was restored, Inko and Izuku could be happy yet again. He was satisfied until finally, the dreaded words tumbled from his wife’s lips.  

“We have to do something for them...” Inko uttered and Hisashi sputtered on his warm tea.  

“What could we possibly do to help them?” He laughed.  

Hisashi, wished he didn’t laugh.  

Now, bracing his hands against the marble sink, fingers pressing into the surface, teetering on cracking it. He sighed, glancing at himself in the mirror. The yellowed lights contouring his features, giving him the impression of an evil mastermind. He snorted, before glancing at the bathroom door cautiously.  

“We’ll invite them to dinner.” Inko had stated, not allowing Hisashi a say before rushing to the phone.  

He gripped the door handle, letting his hand rest against the cold metal before sighing and throwing the door open.  

The Todoroki’s, (Inko had scolded him when she found he didn't know their names,) were standing in the middle of their cramped living room.  

The children were in varying degrees of unease, not sure how to hold themselves in a foreign environment. Their mother, Rei, stood in the middle, smiling as Inko welcomed them, offering beverages and snacks like they were Gods.  

Hisashi would have snorted if not for the own displeasure in his own stomach.  

Strangers stood in the middle of his home, his oasis, his sanctuary. They stood, with their potential diseases and misdeeds, amongst his family where they could attack at any moment.  

Hisashi Midoriya was a great father, he knew that, but he wasn’t a great person. He took a step forward, closing the door behind him, alerting the occupants of his entrance. Rei glanced in his direction as if she were not truly seeing him.   

Her eyes widened, faux smile dropping in an open expression of fear. Her hands moved to grab her children, ready to pull them away at any moment. Hisashi took a step forward, and Inko turned to smile at him.  

“This is my husband, Hisashi.” Inko introduced, and Rei glanced at her again, blinking at the two of them before relaxing.  

A hesitant smile curling her lips as she regarded Hisashi for the first time.  

“I-I’m sorry, I’m Rei. Thank you two for having us.” She rushed out, reaching her hand out, shaking his wife’s hand gingerly. She hesitated, hand in the air before extending it out to Hisashi.  

He shook her hand, suppressing a longwinded sigh as he kept his grip light.  

‘I’m a great father!’ He’d shout across every rooftop in Japan, and it’d be true every time, he was confident. But that never meant it wasn’t exhausting. As he watched his lovely family befriend the family of the man he just murdered, he learned a new level of complication associated with fatherhood.  

Hisashi only hoped he wouldn’t have to murder any of them, it’d surely break Izuku’s heart.

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Yay death! But I've had this idea taking up space in my head for a couple months while I was writing BSF, so now I'm getting around to it.

Link to my AO3: Donkey_Wafflez | Archive of Our Own