#i’m sorry to those who are bitter because cas has still not appeared

[scottstiles]

i think last night tipped me a leeeetle into mania

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again. 

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met. 

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain. 

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him-  Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it. 

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.” 

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back. 

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room. 

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.��� Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her. 

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

[bloodycassian]

darkness defined - 

az or cass x reader idk if this makes sense or not but here we go, either az or cas POV where reader (their mate) was stuck under the mountain with rhys and doesn’t come back bc she is still locked in the dungeons (rhys just assumed she died, he doesn’t know she is still alive)  Switch to readers POV, a few months later where they think their mate and their family (the night court) has abandoned them bc nobody ever came looking for her. Reader is like on the verge of death and uses her last energy to send a pulse down the bond. Switch back to az or cas POV  who are basically freaking out with guilt and anger and worried-ness. Im sorry it’s super long don’t feel pressured to write this anytime soon idk if it even makes sense  

DONT APOLOGIZE FOR BEING SPECIFIC! I LOVE WORKING WITH THIS KIND OF STUFF PLEASE DO MORE LOL

Cassian was a wreck. From the moment Rhys came home alone, and until the end of time it seemed to be. Azriel sighed, watching his brother down his second bottle of alcohol. His eyes were red, face gaunt and pale. The circles under those tortured eyes looked more like bruises. 

He hadn't talked to Rhys much since the news came that you were gone. Cassian had practically blown the roof off the house of wind, then disappeared for two weeks. The only reason Rhys had let him was because Az followed, far behind just to make sure he wasn't going to do anything drastic. 

Azriel watched his brother circle the mountain, only to have to turn away. Wards made by Helion himself refused entry to anyone while the mountain was still being evacuated of Fae. He glared daggers at the people streaming outside the shield. His heart was a painful stab in his chest constantly. His mate.. gone. He refused to believe it. And Azriel saw the denial there, plain as day. 

Azriel had only stopped him once. When he packed a bag and started his flight to Hybern. He earned a black eye and a verbal lashing for that, but it had saved Cassian from going on a suicide mission.

After a month of being out, he went to his brother. Rhys refused to ask Helion to lower the shields around the Mountain, and finally Cassian seemed to give up. He would have gone to Helion himself, but the wards around his court prevented him from doing so. Rhys was torn up over the entire experience of under the mountain, but losing you was one of the worst parts. He would never forgive himself for losing his brother's mate. 

Azriel watch his brother's eyes get more and more dull. Watched the bottles stack up. Rhys wasn't around much, busy regaining control over his city, getting updated. And keeping an eye on Spring Court.  Cassian sighed when the bitter liquid hit his tongue. He drank like it was salvation. Like it would lead him back to you. Plus, it helped him sleep. It was the only time he could sleep without seeing you, without feeling that pull - the command his instincts gave. "Find me, find me. I'm here. I love you. Please."  He often escaped to the cabin. To not have to talk to anyone, and to keep Rhys from stealing his bottles from him. Cassian was convinced Rhys was saving them to drink for himself. That's where he found himself flying, bottle of booze in hand. The guilt a lead weight in his stomach. 

The door shut, and he finished the first bottle in an hour. 

Mor appeared beside him, took the second bottle from his hand and had a long drink herself. He smiled drunkenly, showing too many teeth at her. He wasn't sure if she was actually glowing or if it was his eyes squinting too much. "Cheers." He slurred, taking the bottle back and downing more.

+ The walls were getting drier and drier with each passing day. The once cool winds that would cut through the stone dungeons were turning softer, warmer. It was a welcome relief, but without the muddy water from the walls...you knew you didn't have much left. Your spirit was crushed, on top of it. Death seemed like not a terrible option anymore.  Especially knowing that your court - your friends - your family had left you. They had just... forgotten. Thrown you aside like nothing. Didn't even try to find you. Like the Winter court skeleton in the cell beside you, just left to die.

  You pushed the thoughts back, knowing that logically that wasn't true. But you couldnt come up with a reason why they would leave you down here. You prayed, you tried sending thoughts down the bond. Nothing worked. Sometimes your mind got the better of you, and you would rush to the bars of your prison cell when you thought you heard faint footsteps. 

Then you would hear your own voice echo back, and no one else.  Eventually you stopped getting up. You let the fantasies keep you entertained while you lay on the floor. Not caring about the bugs that crawled on you. You were glad there wasn't a mirror to see yourself in. A wave of dizziness crashed over you, and you fell into darkness. 

When the water ran dry, you stopped bothering calling out for Cassian. The bond was there, but saturated. Trying to grasp it was like trying to hold wind. You were too exhausted. So you propped yourself up in a corner and let the dizziness pull you under again for a moment. Taking rattling breaths, you let your mind wander to that mind bridge. That once sturdy marble that would always remind you of Cassian. 

You sent out a final tug down that bond. Using the last of your energy, you put all your effort into it. "I'm here, I always will be. I love you. I'm sorry." The platform you imagined your bond being seemed to go dark, and lifeless. Empty.

+ Cassian shot upright, head spinning. Mor was asleep beside him, her feet on the table. He shook her, trying to shake the stupor. "Wake up. Wake up!" She groaned, weakly batting him away. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. He wobbled to the kitchen, dunked his head in the cold sink water and slapped himself a few times. The haziness from his stupor crawled away, slowly. 

Mor appeared in the archway, rubbing her eyes.

"Get Rhys. I need you to winnow us." He demanded, patting her face softly. Her eyebrows knit together but she stretched, and sleepily obliged.  + You assumed the crackling was just your starved imagination. Again. But the wind changed as well, and you tried not to let your hopes up. You weakly opened your eyes, to the same familiar cell. A silent tear slid down your cheek.  Then there were the shuffling of footsteps again, and you hid your face in your hands. It seemed like all the imagination tricks were attacking at once. You wanted it to stop. You wanted nothing more than to just fall asleep until you could see and hold Cassian again. Voices, now.

The sweet deep voice of a man who spoke another language. An ancient language. Your ears rang. You cracked your eyes again, to a blinding white light. You held a hand in front of your face, trying to see behind it. 

A thud, and scrape of metal. Then the scent hit you. It was similar to what you had imagined but somehow a million times better. Then, his arms were around you. "Mother above." He breathed. You would have thought the mother took you at last if it wasnt for the pain in your gut.

"We got you honey, I'm so sorry. Im-" He tried to hold back a sob. You smiled weakly at the familiar, yet different eyes that you loved. The marble platform you shared seemed to be lighting up with happiness. At the same time, crumbling and falling with shame. Anguish. 

Rhys began winnowing the group immediately, nodding to Helion. The high lord gave him a melancholy smile back, and winnowed himself in a flash of light. He would check the rest of the mountain with his forces and repair the wards before he returned to his home. 

Everyone surrounded the healer, watching her work. Mor was trying to stay calm, but her hands shook when she held Amrens. Rhys and Azriel both had jaws clenched, shoulders tense. Watching the way Cassian's tears fell on to your shoulder as he cradled you. The healer squeezed  his arm softly, silently requesting him to move. He didn't.

Azriel went to his brother, wrapping an arm around him. "Your mate needs you to be strong, Cas." He consoled, pulling him away gently. Cassian held you tighter, just for a second then nodded and let go. He held your hand firmly. His warmth missing from your body was a shock. You began shivering. Amren tugged a blanket off the guest couch nearby and placed it over your legs. 

"T-thanks." you muttered. Her eyes widened, but she nodded. Her and Rhys glanced to each other. A silent conversation. You didnt care. 

"Cas?" You squeezed his hand, and there he was. His pale face looked ragged. He seemed like he was struggling in every sort of way. You didnt want to imagine what he was looking at when he looked at your features. You could practically feel your cheeks sinking in, your bones losing their density. "I missed you." You smiled, trying to lift his mood. 

His lips quivered, and he nodded. He kissed the back of your hand. "You wouldnt believe how much I missed you. All of us did." he glanced to Rhys. His face was blank, but that steady stream of power seemed to be crackling outside. 

You let your eyes drift to each of your friends. Each of their tear stained faces were such a welcome relief. Over a month alone, their presence alone was enough to soothe that part of you that doubted their love. 

Cassian kissed your forehead, before the healer's light knocked you into a peaceful sleep. 

[im-whatchamccallit]

Crushcrushcrush//Kim Hongjoong (ATEEZ)

Request:  Hi i was wondering if you could do a soulmate werewolf hongjoong x human female reader angst and fluff like she over hears hongjoong saying something and she gets sad and shy and worried and stuff.....

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst with fluff at the end, Werewolf!AU, Soulmate!AU, a bit of College!AU

Warnings: Hongjoong’s kind of a dick with irrational thinking, cussing I guess

Word Count: 7.2k

(A/N: Lets just pretend I didn’t disappear for 6 whole months, but i am back and my medication is no longer giving me the big sad so I’m a little more motivated to write.This isn’t the best work I’ve done, this is actually idea 10 for this prompt and idk if it’s executed properly but Imma keep trying and hopefully, to keep from falling back into a slump, I’ll start a new series so I have a regular scheduled fic for everyone. Also, I think I botched expressing the AUS here but just let me know what you think. Sorry for always disappearing, I can’t promise I won’t go off the grid again but I’ll try harder to be active in anyway)

Your mother always said crushes stayed crushes for a reason: they hurt. Bad. But you thought she was wrong, that your feelings for someone could one day be reciprocated later if not sooner, and that’s what led you to him. Kim Hongjoong. The day you met was a complete accident, your body slamming into his as you wandered aimlessly during your freshman year of high school. He was gorgeous with wide brown eyes, beautiful pink lips and cheeks, his hair styled differently from the other boys to reveal his forehead, showing his individuality. He was perfection.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Those were the first words he spoke to you, his voice so gentle, so sweet. And the way he reached out to help you with no hesitation, holding your hands as he pulled you up effortlessly.

It was love at first sight, all until he looked down to your hands, eyes catching a glimpse of your wrist, a row of zeros peeking through the sleeve of your uniform jacket. He slowly pushed the fabric up, both your eyes widening to see your soulmate clock had finally timed out, his hands releasing yours to check his own wrist, a quiver to his lips as his clock matched yours, his once soft eyes now hard as he stared you down.

“Stay far away from me.” He warned, not saying another word as he headed to his homeroom, your body frozen as you watched him disappear. He was so harsh, yet you liked him. Maybe suddenly finding his soulmate scared him, but it was no problem to you! You were bound to end up together so you played the waiting game with him, being the perfect soulmate you could possibly be whether he accepted it or not.

And that led you here, now seniors in college and still acting the way you were when you met. Hongjoong was still cold, treating you like some plague while you could only smile along. You weren’t sure how you missed the fact you lived in a predominantly werewolf area until a public service announcement came on your television one night to remind humans to stay indoors during the full moon, that night dedicated to werewolves being as free as they could be, but it made you even more hopeful when you were on your way home from work one night, taking a shortcut through the woods since it lead right to your backyard.

You were 16 at the time, so the sight of a shirtless person would obviously make you flustered, but a shirtless Hongjoong? Enough to cause a nosebleed. He was 16 as well, the exact age a werewolf develops a mate bond and, seeing as you’ve already been confirmed as soulmates in the human world, the sudden desire to latch onto you and never let you go once you locked eyes only made your lifelong attachment more real, and he was freaking out. He didn’t speak, opting to shift without removing the remainder of his clothes, your eyes wide as he moved deeper through the thick trees and towards the horizon where the orange sky was in full view and, the grin on your face just couldn’t stop growing. You knew werewolves had a stronger drive to their mates, so the idea that he could avoid you forever was laughable. Sure, you were both 23 and he has uped his disdain for you from staying silent to calling you any vile name he could think of, but it was only a matter of time before he came around. You just knew it.

“(Y/n), stop gawking.” Miyeon joked, poking your side to snap you from your daydreams, your eyes widening when you noticed a few of Hongjoong’s friend’s catching your gaze, a blush painting your face as you turned away.

“I wasn’t gawking, just making sure their table was okay. I am their waitress tonight.”

“And every other night because you said, and I quote, ‘I wanna work at any table my Joongie’s going to be at!’” She mocked, your eyes rolling as you looked back towards them.

You took a job at a diner just a few blocks from both your apartment and college campus, the pay great and the distance convenient. It was the only time you had to yourself instead of lingering to Hongjoong, figuring out his classes and breaks to give him snacks and lunches you’d personally make for him since you overheard him complain about the campus food before, only to be told they tasted like shit and he’d find his own food. It was a bit of a kick to the face to hear that, but you had one saving grace: his pack. The first time Hongjoong sent you away with a bitter remark, they were curious about you, tracking you down when they weren’t with their alpha to get more info on who you were and what you found so loveable about the man treating you like some demon. They were surprised by how sweet you were and how accepting you were to be the unwanted luna of an eight-wolf pack. They could never hate Hongjoong but they sure as hell loved you just a little more than him. Unbeknownst to both of you, Yunho and Mingi found out where you worked, making a plan with the others to take Hongjoong there as much as possible so he would have no choice but to interact with you, even if he stayed silent to not appear like an asshole in front of the various strangers dining as well. Hongjoong would honestly never return if he had the choice, but something about the restaurant’s signature burger kept bringing him back, which is why he was here, sipping his soda angrily as he waited on his meal that would be served by his worst nightmare, you.

“I don’t know why you don’t just find someone else. Isn’t it easy for humans to reject soulmates? You could move on with no problems.” She said, helping you grasp onto the steel tray covered in various meals, a huff leaving you as you put on a bright smile.

“Because I know it’s harder to move on for wolves. You guys don’t have a choice on who your mates are, and you just accept it once you meet them. I know Hongjoong will accept me eventually, it’s just gonna take some time.” You gave one more smile before wobbling towards the table in question.

Hongjoong tried not to follow the gaze of his pack as they watched you happily approach them, letting out a huff as you adjusted the tray onto your shoulder, grasping the plates and placing them in front of the respective person, Hongjoong’s nose twitching at the smell of his burgers and fries, not wasting anytime to dig in as the other’s thanked you, but you shyly looked at the male before you, the tray pressed to your chest as you tried to find a casual way to speak with him.

“I-uh- I-I remembered last time you asked for extra cheese, so I decided to put cheese in the burger too! I hope you like it better than the tofu stew I made you for lunch the other week.”

“I didn’t ask for extra cheese this time, so why put it inside my burger where I can’t take it off?” He said spitefully, mouth still full as he set the half-eaten burger down.

Your smile faltered but bounced back as you reached towards his plate.

“O-oh! Well, I can take it back and make you another! This time I ca-“

“’This time’? You should’ve just done it from the start. Your job is to listen and do what you’re told and you can’t even do that? What can you do right?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes wandering to the people now staring at you as the scene unfolded, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you tried to hold it together. The worst he’s called you in an idiot and that was usually under his breath, so to practically say it out loud, in front of strangers while you were in the middle of a shift and forced to do nothing but smile like you usually would, felt like you were being stabbed and burned simultaneously. You couldn’t keep smiling, looking down as you tried to apologize, only for him to cut you off once again.

“Go bother someone else. Or hide in the back if you’re just gonna keep fucking up this much.”

The space was eerily silent, even with the soft music playing, your eyes not leaving your shoes as you shuffled away. It was a pitiful sight, Seonghwa releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as you went to a neighboring table to retrieve plates and glasses left by a couple from before. He was ready to tear Hongjoong’s head off, not as a gamma to an alpha but as one friend to another, his jaw tight as he prepared to berate him the way he did you but, somehow, Wooyoung beat him by asking a question none of them thought to ask before.

“What did she ever do to you that you have to treat her like that?”

There was a strange but tense silence as they awaited his answer, watching him taking small bites of his fries as he stared ahead at nothing before turning to them with what could only be described as a sadistic smirk.

“Imagine being 13 and finding out the best years of your life, the years of dating, hooking up, just discovering who you are, are gone because your mate decides to show up and take that from you.”

“Are you fucking stupid? That’s the reason we have mates, so we can do those things with one person instead of random people!” Seonghwa nearly yelled, trying to keep his voice low as to not alarm anymore spectators again.

“For the past 7 years, I’ve been trying to get her to leave or just reject me, but it’s clear to me now that she’s just an idiot that doesn’t understand she’s not needed, by me or anyone. And, if you’re as dumb as her, I’ll simplify it for you: she’s unwanted.”

Whatever pain you felt before suddenly disappeared into a numbness you couldn’t explain. He knew you were there, that you could hear him, that you would hear him, and yet he still said it. You were conflicted and sad, your lips curling in a mixture of disgust and anger before settling on a bright smile. Never mind the fact your tears finally spilled over, that your heart ached with every beat and your body felt heavy with the weight of being rejected by someone you waited so long for, you just had to smile. Soulmates were supposed to be a sure thing, supposed to be your happily ever after, yet it just turned out to be a crush, one that you should’ve let die the day you met him.

“(Y/n/n)…” Miyeon spoke cautiously as you made your way towards the bar, your other coworkers watching from beside her as if you were some strange spectacle.

“We have to start cleaning, y’know? It’ll help us get out of here a lot faster tonight.” You said in your usual cheerful tone, tears still flowing and a faint crack to your voice.

“How about you just head home for the day, (Y/n)? We can handle everything from here.” Your manager said, her eyes scanning your face as you moved past them and to the kitchen, their bodies following instinctively.

“What? No! I’m fine! We still have 4 more hours to go and I think if I get a head start with the chefs for tomorrow lunch specials I ca-“

“(Y/n), please-“

“I’m fine, Miyeon! Really! It’s not like I got broken up with or anything, I never even had a boyfriend! Just a crush on someone that thinks I’m a waste of space! Isn’t that super ironic? Spending most of your life chasing after someone that wants nothing to do with you? That’s really funny, right?” You choked out, lips pursing into a thin line to keep in your sobs but your attempts were futile, everything slowly starting to hit you at once until your body collapsed, one of the other servers catching you before you hit the ground.

It was all a blur from there, the words of comfort everyone offered turning into muffled noise as your cries of agony came out freely, the way Miyeon dragged you from the emergency exit at the back of the building and to her car to take you home, and even when you crawled into bed and managed to sleep despite the pounding headache. 7 years came and went and there was nothing to show for it. No soulmate, no boyfriend, no romance, not even a friendship. You were empty and for some reason the only thing filling your heart and mind was the person who broke you.

It felt like time stood still yet hours had passed, Hongjoong back in his own bedroom pressing away at his keyboard, stopping occasionally to write a few notes down from his new composition, but he wasn’t distracted enough to hear his door open, various footsteps entering and even a few bodies settling in on his bed, his eyes not bothering to leave his notebook as he figured this moment would come.

“You don’t need to lecture me.” He grumbled, going back to play a few more notes only to find his keyboard unplugged, Mingi tossing the cord away as his alpha stared him down.

“It’s only a lecture if you listen and learn, which you won’t, so we’re gonna make you feel as bad as possible for driving away the only person that gave a shit about you.” San said with a bright smile, a scoff leaving Hongjoong as he finally turned in his chair to face them, eyes scanning the room to see this situation wasn’t playful but truly hostile, almost like an ambush.

“So, you guys don’t care about me?”

“Trying to get you to accept your soulmate so you don’t die shows we care a lot more than we should.” Yeosang spoke, making himself comfortable as he sat against the pillow and headboard.

“But we’re the real assholes for trying to force her with someone as shitty as you.” Seonghwa finally said, Hongjoong’s head snapping in his direction as he let out a dry chuckle, shifting in his seat so he was leaning backwards, arms crossed as he told himself to stay calm during his friend’s potential tantrum.

“I feel like you have the most to say since you’ve been in love with my mate the longest, so go ahead, tell me how I’m such a bad man, Seonghwa. I’m all ears.” His smugness made the tension worse, Seonghwa stepping closer with clenched fist.

“I’m not in love with you mate, but if I didn’t know someone was waiting for me because we were fated to be together, maybe I would have asked (Y/n) out, because she deserves better than a lowlife with the brain function of a dead goldfish. But I respect her too much as your mate and my luna to not push those boundaries so I tried to help her get closer to you because I know you, Hongjoong. You’re not an asshole or a jerk, but to her? You treat her like shit, when really you’d have no one without her. You’re a short, scrawny, nerdy moron that locks himself in a dark room for days on end just to complete a single project, then emerge to eat cold pizza and watch Despicable Me because your pea-sized brain can’t comprehend anything that isn’t brightly colored animation. If you take away your alpha status, no girl would even look in your direction but you have someone literally at your side, the only human not afraid of you, trying to figure out everything there is to know about you, yet you can’t give her the time of day. You probably don’t even know a damn thing about her.”

“Unfortunately, I know more than enough about her.” Hongjoong spoke, all amusement gone as he glared at the older male, their mindlink clogged with threatening growls and barks, trying to keep their fight from getting physical.

That first sentence alone made Hongjoong’s blood boil, his face contorted in a mixture of pain and disgust. How could Seonghwa even say that to him, plotting to steal his mate all because he was a bit uncertain? That all it was, uncertainty! He didn’t hate you, or wish you weren’t around, he actually grew to anticipate and enjoy your ramblings about your day or whatever new thing caught your attention, he actually even loved the lunches that you’d make for him. He couldn’t help that over the years he grew to crave you more, but the thought of fully accepting you and solidifying that the best years of his life were about to be gone, restricted to one person forever before he could even determine for himself his likes and dislikes, what he considered real love rather than what fate wanted him to feel, was terrifying. So he distanced himself from you, spending the years watching you from afar in hopes that if he didn’t get too close he wouldn’t lose his free will completely.

But it was a bad habit that seeped into your college years, everyone assuming he cared so little for you when he knew everything there was to know. He knew where you worked before any of the boys did, where your apartment was, the fact you were a business major planning to open a bakery once you graduated, he knew you didn’t have classes on Fridays but always came back on campus because you prepared meals for the men’s and women’s wrestling team which is where Jongho first met you, he knew you hated mint chocolate chip ice cream just like him but loved chocolate ice cream with mint chips, he knew you were always cold but overheat at night and wake up at exactly 3am to change into shorts and a tank top to be more comfortable, he knew about the birthmark on your lower back and a scar on your hip from a cat scra-

“Holy shit, you’re insane.” Wooyoung breathed out, Hongjoong’s eyes focusing on the room in front of him, a mixture of shocked expressions and amused ones filling his vision.

“I liked it better when we thought you hated her but, hyung, you’ve been stalking her since your freshman year of high school?” Jongho asked cautiously.

It was a weird feeling bubbling inside Hongjoong, the primary one being embarrassment. He knew he’d sometimes unintentionally rant in their mindlink whenever he was upset but to make an almost decade long secret public to his pack, revealing the intimate details of how you slowly but surely ingrained yourself into not only his brain but his life until he felt like he was going crazy? It made him tear up, his face burn with a blush as he was finally forced to face the truth. He pushed you away but wanted you more than anything. He wanted to spend his years free to explore before finally settling down only to reject every girl that came close to him simply because they weren’t you, and he took that anger out on you. What was he so mad about? The fact you stood by his side with a smile happily accepting him while he tried and failed to lust after other women? Was he that pathetic? He could admit now that he was and, if he could turn back time, he would’ve introduced himself and walked you to class. Just the first step of fully accepting you.

“You’re still ranting in the mindlink, you know?” Seonghwa said softly, regaining the once again lost focus of his alpha who was too consumed in his own pity to notice the tension died down, their gazes soft as they tried to sympathize with their leader.

“Sorry. I wish none of you heard that stuff.” He admitted, sniffling as he realized he’d been crying, hand hurriedly wiping away tears from his cheeks.

“Well, it’s a good thing we did. We still think you’re a moron, but at least we know you’re feeling guilty about all of this.”

“Don’t worry, Joong, if you know (Y/n) like we do, she always sees the best in people, so she’ll forgive you. But you still have to apologize.” San followed up Mingi’s words, wrapping an arm around Hongjoong shoulders while giving a bright smile in response to his weak one.

“She’s my TA in Calc 3 and I have that class around noon tomorrow. She always stays after in case anyone has questions, so I can stall until you get there.” Yunho offered, Hongjoong feeling a slight warmth in his chest thinking about it all. He’d let go of his insecurities, fix everything he’s done wrong, and finally have you as his. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

And tomorrow did come, but you were nowhere to be found. When Hongjoong arrived to Yunho’s class, he was met with a sympathetic apology on the account that you didn’t show up that day, you weren’t even at any of your other classes. The boys even tried to find you at work only to be met with a mob of your pissed coworkers led by Miyeon, threatening to rip their heads off if she saw their faces again. And that lasted for nearly 3 days, Hongjoong’s hope slowly dwindling away until he noticed two figures sneakily meeting halfway at the school’s entrance to exchange a large white cooler.

He recognized those bulky arms anywhere, and the thick Aussie accent was a dead giveaway as well, especially when it was followed by a distinct giggle. There was no mistaking it was Chan, but he could barely see the person with him, their voice low as they spoke to him and face hidden beneath a hood, but the scent emitting from them was strong, and beautiful, his eyes widening as he finally took it all in. You looked different, wearing a dark grey matching sweat suit which was a complete 180 from your usual attire, and you smelled faintly of passionfruit, possibly a change to your normal shampoo in an attempt to disguise yourself, but that thought only made his heart hurt more. Were you intentionally avoiding him? He could understand you hating him now but you were even ignoring the others in his pack, going from friends to complete strangers in a matter of hours and leaving them all devastated. He was going to fix this, here and now, if not for him and you than for his friends.

“Jongho’s been pretty upset about you not responding to his text. It’d really help if you stopped by to at least let him know you’re okay.” Chan pleaded, giving you a dimpled smile and hopeful gaze that made it impossible for you to hide your blushing face and grin.

“I just need a little more time, Chris. It’s like if you broke up with your mate and all the friends you made through her left you too. Except it’s me being broken up with by someone who was never my boyfriend and his friends came to me instead of me going to them. But, still, it hurts all the same.” You laughed slightly, trying to find some humor in the situation.

“You’re the only person that still calls me Chris.” He commented, trying to redirect the conversation as you clearly weren’t fine, neither of you noticing the burning glare just a few meters away.

“I just think it fits you best.” You admitted, neither of you breaking eye contact until you gasped, staring down to the box of food and drinks you bought.

“You should hurry to practice. You need to eat beforehand otherwise you’ll be weak after warmups alone. And I worked hard making those sandwiches and cutting that fruit, if it goes bad because you stayed here to cheer me up, I’ll really be mad.” You tried to put on your best scowl, your scolding undermined by his amused laughter.

“Alright, fine. Just stay safe, please?” You nodded, waving as you watched him turn to head to the school’s gymnasium, missing the way Chan glared at Hongjoong as he continued forward. Chan and Hongjoong’s packs were close, family almost, so the news of what Hongjoong did and why reached them in no time, and Chan was hoping today things would be fixed soon because, apart from you being the wrestling team’s beloved personal chef, you were like a sister to him.

You wasted no time leaving the campus behind, ready to go back into the darkness of your bedroom to forget you existed. You really wish you could disappear, that the ground would split beneath you and swallow you whole, but you couldn’t just leave when your phone was filled with calls and messages from friends and coworkers wondering where you were and if you were fine. So many people cared, what kind of person would you be to leave them all alone like this, especially when all they wanted was to help you? But being alone helped, trying to live life as normal as possible while adjusting to a Hongjoong-free lifestyle helped. It would take some time, but you’d find your normal someday. All you had to do was avoid-

“(Y/n)!” Your body froze.

He rarely called you by your name but his voice was distinct on its own, and it was the most sickly sweet thing you’ve ever heard. You wanted to run, to never have him see you like this. Dear god, how did you even look right now? You felt like shit, you probably looked the part. Dammit, Hongjoong was right all along, you were shit. You were worse than shit, you were just pathetic. A pathetic, lovestruck loser itching to just turn and say hi, to have the conversation you always dreamed of but you knew that wouldn’t happen. He’ll yell at you again. He’ll-

“(Y/n)? H-hi…” Hongjoong said shyly, standing right in front of you as you shrank into yourself.

His brows furrowed as you looked away, mentally arguing with yourself as you went over the days of self-reflecting you did, trying to find some lesson from your solitude to aid in this situation and it was starting to scare him. You were never quiet with him, you always had something to say even if it wasn’t important but, luckily, he had something important to say and hopefully you’d listen.

“I- T-the other day…. I w-was…. I-I’m sorry.” He stammered out, this confession a lot harder than he thought, especially now that you were facing him, eyes just as innocent as the day he met you, but he couldn’t run away this time.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, honestly. Everyone told me I was an idiot and I think they’re right. I treated you like you were garbage for years, all because I didn’t want to be mated so young. I just wanted to date around before I finally settled down with someone and, m-maybe I could’ve just said that, so you didn’t have to wait around for me all these years but, I never hated you, and I can’t hate you. I know you won’t forgive me right away but I think it’s only fair that I can be a good mate to you now.”

He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the desperate ‘please’ he wanted to add as your pupils began to shake, almost as if you were a machine malfunctioning, none of your self-reflecting preparing you for this moment, the only thing coming to mind being some sad blog article you found during your second day of isolation. ‘Forgiving and forgetting too soon is dangerous. Find yourself’. It wasn’t what you wanted but maybe what you need, what he needed. So, without hesitation, you smiled brightly at him although it never reached your eyes, clearing your throat as you tried to keep your voice steady.

“Hongjoong, I can’t forgive you easily. I waited for you, I tried to make you accept me and it always ended up with me getting hurt. Honestly, if I just treated you like a regular crush, maybe we could’ve forgotten we’re meant to be together until after graduation or something.” You laughed awkwardly, wanting to look away as his eyes softened in the saddest way, but you needed to do this, eyes locked on his as you exhaled through your nose.

“I couldn’t be by your side all the time, so whether you dated anyone is still a mystery to me but, I’ve been alone for seven years hoping you’d come around, and I think it’s time I take those years back. I’m not sure if what you said counted as a rejection or if we’re still mates but, if we are, we’ll come back to each other eventually. For now, I just need some time.”

You managed to walk past him without completely collapsing in tears, speed walking back to your apartment as you tried to swallow sobs, not even taking in the way Hongjoong stumbled to follow you, almost like a zombie as he attempted to plead for you to reconsider, to force himself to accept your decision but ask how long you needed, but he couldn’t do that. He tried to picture himself in your shoes, seven years of pining only to be publicly humiliated by the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. He couldn’t blame you for not forgiving him, and he sure as hell couldn’t force you, so he let you go, trudging in the opposite direction to his two story apartment just to hide in his bedroom until he didn’t feel like dying anymore.

But as more days passed and it only got harder for Hongjoong. He barely left his room but also never slept, every song he created was played in minor scales to fit his now melancholy life. The charisma he typically exuded was hidden with puffy red eyes from crying and a yellow knit sweater a few sizes too large for his body but it was the only thing that comforted him at this point, especially when knowing you had reconnected with everyone but him.

After exactly one week of distancing yourself from the world, you caved and meet with the boys individually (sans Hongjoong), apologizing for needing space although they completely understood, but the way each interaction ended made your guts churn with guilt. ‘Stay safe, luna’, that’s how all of them addressed you before they left, leaving you filled with the desire to return to how things were before. You missed your friends and, the fact your mate was finally ready to claim you, only made you want to forgive Hongjoong sooner. But you needed to be your own person for once. You had seven years worth of relationships to catch up on and you wouldn’t let them keep you from that.

Except when they did.

You should’ve known it was risky letting them know you had a date so soon, just some other human on campus that had yet found his soulmate. They sounded happy for you, Wooyoung going so far to ask where you met and where your date would be and what time, giving suggestions on what to say and wear since it was “your first”. It was a sweet gesture, and you thought nothing of it, but that information meant everything to him which led to now, the boys huddled together in their living room with a slightly paler and sickly looking Hongjoong curled into the corner of their loveseat.

“So they’re going bowling tonight at 8:30? We could ask her about it tomorrow in case she’s into him because hyung isn’t looking too great.” Yeosang commented, everyone looking to Hongjoong as he managed to drown his entire body within the sweater, only his head visible as he stared ahead like some lost puppy.

“He’s just weak from not being around her for so long, but their bond is still there so he’s fine. But we have nothing to worry about. She won’t fall in love with him so don’t get too involved, she’ll just stop talking to us again if we meddle too much.” Seonghwa warned, a chorus of ‘Okays’ confirming their dismissal as they all stood to retreat to their bedrooms.

“Wait, who is she going out with anyways? There’s only 10 other humans at that school.” Mingi’s question cause everyone to freeze, the silence in the room contrasting with the faint answer Woooyung gave in their mindlink, Hongjoong turning to look at him with hurt and pain.

“Why didn’t you say it was Yugyeom?!”

“I did! Just not to you, until now because I forgot to tune you out.” He said shyly, flinching as Hongjoong ran past him and right out their front door, none of them sure of what to do at that point.

It was such a minor yet major detail. Kim Yugyeom was admittedly the most wanted person any of them could think of. Human girls wanted him, werewolf girls wanted him, most guys couldn’t help but stare whenever he passed by. He was gorgeous with eyes that sparkled every time he smiled. He spoke about his soulmate with so much passion despite never meeting her, following his words with how he’d treat any girl before her with the same love and care. It was a pick up line meant to hook any hopelessly romantic girl in, the sweetest way to say their relationship wouldn’t last. But this was Kim Yugyeom, they knew it was only meant with good intentions, not wanting to string someone along with the false hope they’d be together forever. And that’s exactly what you needed. To explore while knowing you’d always come back to Hongjoong. But that’s not what Hongjoong wanted. He didn’t want you dating anyone else, finding temporary happiness when he was supposed to give you a lifetime of it. And humans were more flexible with their soulmates, they had the privilege to move one without the pain or withdrawals of losing their mate. Werewolves just died if they were rejected, heartbreak and loneliness consuming them, so there was no telling how your heart would react to someone exactly like you. Maybe you’ll fall in love with him. Maybe he’ll abandon his soulmate for you once he learns how amazing you are. Maybe Hongjoong would die from lack of food and sleep before he even reached your apartment, which he was still sprinting full speed towards. It was only 7:30pm, meaning he had an hour before you and Yugyeom went out, but he didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what he was doing, but he needed to stop you before you found yourself in love with someone else.

It was like some scene in a drama, Hongjoong’s chest heaving as he finally came to a stop just outside your apartment. His body felt like giving out as he climbed the two flights of stairs to your door, only to find you waving shyly to Yugyeom just as he turned away, trying not to lock eyes with Hongjoong but Hongjoong’s eyes were only trained on you, yours finding his as a panicked look crossed your face. Should you look away? Go back inside? What was he even doing there? You never told the boys your address… You gasped as he approached you, swallowing hard as you tried to remain calm, but how could you stay calm when you finally got a good look at him?

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You didn’t hesitate to ask, stepping further from your door to examine him, reaching for his face only to stumble back to your original position. You were making great progress, you can’t do that now.

“I’ve been better, but even then I wasn’t fine.” He said with a dry chuckle, your lips curling into a fake smile to not show how much his appearance affected you. He looked like he was on the brink of death. You knew wolves would get sick without their mates, but was it really killing him? Were you killing him?

“Joongi-Uhm, Hongjoong, how about you sit down? You look like you’re going to faint.” You offered, stepping back to allow him inside, watching him stumble past you and straight to your sofa as if he owned the place.

It was such an awkward moment for you, watching the poor boy curl into himself as his sweater practically became his body, a sigh leaving your lips as you shut your door. Instead of healing yourself, you had to heal him. It was oddly pitiful but your instincts screamed at you to do it.

Hongjoong shut his eyes as he eased into your sofa, feeling more comfortable than he was in his own home, even more so with your scent invading his senses, your body warmth radiating onto his as you carefully took a seat, trying to figure out what to do.

“Do you need food, or water? Or a doctor?” You asked, the giggle he let out this time weak but still enough to make your heart beat a bit faster.

“I just need you near me.” He admitted.

You let out a squeak as he shamelessly fell into your lap, head comfortably resting against your thighs as he laid face up. You couldn’t stop your hand from easing through his unnaturally colored locks, melting at how soft they were, bottom lip trapped under your teeth as you had to fight off the desire to cup his face. You’ve never gotten this close to him and he wasn’t telling you to go away, instead letting out content purrs as he nuzzled closer to you, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Why couldn’t he just want you from the start? You’d would’ve been able to hold him like this all the time, to see him happy and healthy rather than a shell of his former self. But he didn’t want you, and now he was at your apartment just to keep himself from dying. It was silly to think he cared about you as much as he did himself.

“Of course you do.” You whispered, laughing bitterly as your hand left his hair, moving to his arm to ease him back up into a sitting position.

You couldn’t get past him no matter how hard you tried, nor did you want to, but every word he said, everything he’s done, followed you like a ghost haunting some poor unsuspecting soul. Why did you have to love someone who didn’t love you the same? Why was this your life?

“Can you just hold me a little longer? P-please?” He asked with a cute whine to his voice.

You sighed and grabbed his arm, gently pulling him back into his previous position, fingers massaging his scalp as he finally opened his eyes to look at you. You were beautiful, even with the frown lines etched into your face. He wonder how long they’ve been there, especially when he’s only seen you smiling. Maybe you spent your alone time more upset than he thought. Where you upset before he came? You couldn’t be when Yugyeom was here, no one could be upset with him around. Except Hongjoong. He felt a grudge building inside him just from the mere thought of him with you. He felt like interrogating you on what he was doing here in the first place and why you gave your address out to just anyone, but it wasn’t his place to ask and probably wouldn’t be for a while, but jealousy and rage was all he felt so any reasonable thinking was thrown out the window.

“I don’t want you to see Yugyeom anymore.” He said definitely, your eyes widened as you stared at him incredulously, an amused giggle leaving your lips.

“That’s not for you to choose, Hongjoong. I told you I need time-“

“Those seven years you’ve been waiting I couldn’t be with anyone else. I always compared every girl I met to you and none of them came close to being as perfect, now I have to watch you date some dance major with pretty eyes because I was an insecure dumbass? He has a soulmate, and he’s always going to choose them no matter how much you like each other, so why not save your feelings? I’ll wait as long as you want me to, but just don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

You tried so hard to hide your smile. This wasn’t something you typically liked, possessive guys being on the list of things you found annoying, but considering it was Hongjoong, his soft eyes hard and sharp as their hue seemed to go pitch black as his words were both sweet and demanding, made you fall in love just a little more than you already were. You wanted to take this as his confession, as a truce in your previous one-sided enemyship, to tell him that you told Yugyeom you couldn’t go out with him because you could only see yourself with Hongjoong, but you needed time. Not time to date and explore the way you thought he had, but to watch him work as hard as you did to prove he was ready and willing to love you. It was a little malicious, sure, but it was all in good fun. He’d always be your mate after all.

“I don’t know, Hongjoong, you really hurt me…”

“It hurt knowing I wasn’t with you.” Your smile cracked through, causing his own to appear, your game already over.

“And how do you think I felt? You think you can make up seven years worth of waiting so easily?”

You squealed as he shot up, magically seeming more alive than when he arrived, eyes full of life and his lips and cheeks the same rosy color as when you met him, hands warm and soft as he cupped your face.

“Good thing I have forever to do it.”

The silence was comfortable but unbearable, especially as he hesitated to lean closer, your lips puckering to guide him but he didn’t seem to be catching on and, when he did, you shifted back, laughing awkwardly as you stared at one another, both of you taking a deep breath as you finally closed the gap between you, a weird electric sensation you could only dream of as your lips slowly grew accustom to one another, moving so slow yet feeling so urgent. It was all still new to the both of you, romance and dating only now becoming part of your lives, but it was exciting knowing that you had years ahead of you to perfect it, your entire lives dedicated to loving one another. And it only took a seven year crush to get you here.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 6

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

The next chapter is the last part. I'm truly sorry.

In case you missed it: Chapter 5 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 6

“Cas, you’ve got to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, miss, I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Agent Michael Jagger.” Castiel’s bewilderment is so endearing and familiar that Andy nearly loses her composure.

She grabs his hand, pulling him uncomfortably close, and she can see suspicion dawning amidst the confusion. She tows him to the back area of the restaurant, technically for staff only, but she doesn’t figure petty rules like that matter just now.

“Listen, Miss, you’ve shown interest in my partner and scheduled time to socialize with him later. While I do understand that you are traditionally attractive, I really-“

“I need you to listen, and then I need you to look. Do you understand?”

“Not even a little.”

“That’s okay, hun, neither do I.”

And then she tells him everything. He can only stare at her silently afterwards, his mouth working as if he’s lost the ability to speak.

“Read me, Castiel. You can see if I’m telling the truth. Hell, go deeper and see what I’m telling you. Please, it won’t hurt anything if I’m lying, and if I’m telling the truth, you and I can save them. Please, please, I’m literally begging you. Just look.”

Castiel gingerly slides his fingers into her hair until the heels of his hands are resting on her cheekbones and his thumbs rest on her temples. His eyes slide shut, his face going just a little slack, and then he’s there with her in the memories, memories that faded with the sunrise but seared themselves permanently on her brain the second she saw the three of them again. She knows the moment he sees his own death because his body convulses ever so slightly, but he holds on until the scene plays out and she takes her last breath in the dream.

His eyes snap open and unerringly find hers.

“How is this possible? Who are you?”

If she didn’t have those weeks of memories, she might be afraid of him right now.

“Cas, you know who I am. You saw me. I have no more idea why this is all happening than you, but we’ve got this second chance, and we have to take it.”

He eyes her cautiously, but his mistrust is beginning to fade. “I’ve been fooled before. You could be hiding something, I suppose, but...I don’t think you are.”

Relief floods over her, though a bitter tinge underlies the sweetness.

“You believe me?”

He nods reluctantly, his dry lips thinning unhappily. “I saw your plan. Are you certain this is what you want to do? Do you think it will work?”

“Well, Cas, you can see I don’t have the best track record with plans. Can you think of anything better that leaves the world intact and you, Sam, and Dean all standing?”

Even though she knows what his answer will be, her stomach still drops a little when he shakes his head.

“Yeah, me neither. It was worth a shot.”

He searches her face without suspicion this time, only a deep, genuine sorrow. “I wish I could have had those weeks with you, Andrea. In the vision, you were a good person to spend time with.”

“Call me Andy, Cas. I swear, I never could get you to call me Andy.”

“But your name tag-”

She cuts him off with a kiss to the cheek. She holds back everything else she wants to say to her friend-that-never-was. It wouldn’t make any sense to him now, on this side of their non-existent time together, and it wouldn't make either of them feel any better. She hands him a piece of torn paper from her order pad, this one larger than the one she gave Dean.

“Check the memories you read off me to be sure, but I remember the ritual starts at midnight tomorrow night. They took me from the Brass Monkey not long before then. You can investigate if you need to, but I would bet that they’ll be at the first address I gave you a few hours before then, say eight or nine o’clock, getting everything set up before they come to snatch me. You know what you and the guys will need to take them out; without my blood and the ritual, they’re still dangerous, but they’re only human. Tell Sam and Dean whatever you need to get them there, but...I don’t think you should tell them what you saw. I think everything would get too muddled, and we’d end up right back at the same crossroads with Crowley.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to still meet up with Dean tonight? What if-”

“Everything has happened the same way so far, Cas, down to Sam nagging Dean about vegetables. And I’ve got to give myself something,” she says, her laugh a little more desperate and hysterical than she intended. “I can’t just...Look, just give me this one night, okay? I think I deserve that. I think Dean deserves that.”

He glances from her to the scrap of paper in his hand. She notices that his lips move a little when he’s reading, and she thinks that little quirk suits him just fine.

“Why is there a second address?”

Thanking whatever higher power gave her this second chance and the ability to keep the fallen angel out of even a few of her thoughts, she turns away from Castiel, moving towards the sink to start on some dishes that someone has let pile up. She’s under enough strain right now that she can’t disguise her expression anymore, and she honestly doesn’t think she can handle the sadness in his eyes for one more second.

“I’m going to keep myself out of the way this time; I have no intention of starting another apocalypse. I’ll stay in tomorrow night and triple lock every entrance to my apartment until you tell Dean to call me and give me the all clear. That’s where you’ll find me when the job’s done. And, Cas?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at her with a tortured expression she never sees.

“Remember, we can’t leave any loose ends this time. That’s how you get more apocalypses.” ...

She’s ready and waiting for Dean when he walks in the bar. She can tell he’s taken a little effort with his appearance: his hair is freshly styled, he’s wearing a button-up that isn’t a flannel, and - wonder of wonders- he actually shaved. Having spent an extra minute or thirty on her own primping, she is pleased when his eyes go a little wide as they rake over her seated form.

“I already know I look good, but damned if you didn’t just make me feel edible,” she quips.

She is rewarded with the warmth of his smile as he takes the stool next to her. She’s pleased (but not surprised) when he brushes a kiss on her cheek in greeting. She sips her drink as he orders one of his own, and then they turn on their stools to survey the crowd. He leans a little closer to say something, and she hears him inhale when he gets near.

“You smell amazing. What is that?”

She grins behind her glass. Dean Winchester is not one to comment on a woman’s scent, at least, not in such an innocent, non-sexual way. And yet, both times around, he does just that.

“Lavender and clover blossoms from some boxes on my balcony. I clip some fresh bits sometimes and rub them on instead of perfume. Smells cleaner, less suffocating.”

“I like it.”

They talk about little nothings and nonsense for the next few minutes, favorite bands and movies and foods and anything she can think of just to listen to him talk, to experience him a little more. She doesn’t remember being able to make him laugh this much before, and she thinks maybe she’s doing just a little better time around.

“So, what’re you gonna wow me with?” he asks, gesturing towards the stage with his half-full glass.

“I was thinking ‘Making Love out of Nothing at All,’ but you could probably talk me into ‘Lonely Is the Night’ or even ‘All out of Love’ if you get me tipsy enough.”

He laughs, a bright, weightless sound that cracks her heart in half. She can’t help leaning in and kissing him then, and he leans right back, blissfully unaware of the burden she’s struggling more and more to hide. She pulls away, and he opens his mouth to say something, but she pecks him on the lips again just long enough to stop him speaking.

“You don’t. But you could.”

There’s that smile.

They sit in companionable silence for several songs, sipping their drinks and listening to the other singers. She’s just about to go put her first song request in when he looks over at her, freezing her utterly with one side-long glance.

“How long?”

She can’t have heard him right.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

“How long have we got? Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight, or can I keep you out later?”

Oh. Oh, God, Dean, why?

“You know what? I think I might actually go for some Bob Seger. Come help me pick one out.” ...

Chapter 7 (end)

[anika-ann]

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - Pt.3

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & Part 3),  Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock & reader        

Word count: 2750

Summary: The airport battle comes to pass. Steve is not impressed. However, his major facepalm is coming in 3, 2, 1...

Warnings: violence, language, angst, physical pain, mention of human experimentation

A/N: This part of Melting Hearts’ verse follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing them and kinda expecting the readers to know what’s up ;)

Posted in double chapters (1st &2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1)

Previous part

────── ·❆· ──────  

5. (Turning Tables)

When Tony showed up at the airport, just according to their plan… you were side by side with him.

Steve felt sorry for not burning the letter when he had changed into the uniform. He had promised himself that he would definitely read it when having the time, so he had secured it into a zip-zap bag and hid in the pocket of his pants instead. Now he knew that every word you must have written into the letter was poison and his right leg felt a ton heavier than his left one.

Steve knew that for the most part, it was the feeling of betrayal talking – but he was revisiting every single interaction with you, all of your words replaying in his head, and wondered, where he had gone wrong. What he had missed. How could he not see you as you truly were? A traitor. A liar. A coward, because while you were standing right next to Natasha, you weren’t even able to meet Steve’s eyes – unlike the spy.

He desperately wanted to meet your eyes. To look deeply into your soul and see if you were ashamed at least. For leading him on for so long.

The truth was, you were; ashamed, horrified and a little bit proud. But Steve didn’t seem to know that – which meant he either was as good as you were, or he hadn’t even touched the letter, which was pretty understandable actually.

“You’re gonna turn and come with us. Because it’s us! Don’t you see what you had done?! You tore the team apart – you even drove the woman who had ridiculous amount of trust in you, who loved you for god’s sake, away from you!” Tony yelled at him, apparently losing his nerves.

It made Steve’s blood boil.

“You don’t talk about my relationship with her like this! You have no business in that!”

“Yeah, and what about her? Does she have any business in that? She apparently has more reason than you do! Try to use your brain for a goddamn second, Rogers!”

“Tony…” Natasha whispered warningly.

It was the exact moment Sam’s voice sounded in Steve’s ear, informing him about the quinjet in hangar five; their plan of escape.

Despite the bitterness of this reunion, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of hope and satisfaction. He raised his tied hands above his head and a second later, Clint’s precisely aimed arrow freed him of the strange organic cuffs that dangerously reminded him of an actual cobweb.

It was time to punch their way out of this one, only to do a lot more punching later if they succeeded.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Steve was really busy trying to keep T’Challa from Bucky, too much to keep an eye on you. But when he had a second, he sought you on the battlefield subconsciously, checking if you were alright. He didn’t even have the energy to feel like a hypocrite with his own action, with the annoying habit.

He only found you staying out of the fight, keeping a careful eye on each of the individual combats – but never interfering.

His stomach rolled over, his vision blurring for a moment as his head spun. You were standing aside, watching your friends and him getting beat up. Like a coward.

What else were you? A back-up for if Tony and his friends would be losing? The ace in their sleeves?

Steve felt the bile rising up his throat at the thought. How had that happened? When?

It was only when Vision appeared that you looked up, all of your attention focused on the android who had entered the fight and literally drew a line between the two teams.

You joined the line created by Tony, Rhodey, Natasha, Vision, T’Challa and Spider-kid, standing against Steve’s team. Seven versus six – Steve was outnumbered.

And that was on you.

For the first time since you had encountered him at the airport, you met his eyes for a split second. Steve was shocked when he found the windows to your soul, usually so sincerely open, perfectly locked, your expression unreadable. He couldn’t bear it and looked away as he eyed his team and started jogging towards his former teammates and friends. And fiancée.

The opposite side broke into a run too.

And then you abruptly stopped, your hand hitting the ground hard, creating a thick layer of ice under your supposed teammates’ feet, knocking three of them off balance. And the remaining three who had managed to get in the air – Vision, Rhodey and Tony – were soon busy avoiding icicles shot from your hands.

Steve froze and it had nothing to do with your powers.

Wanda seemed unfazed by your action, throwing herself into a fight; the ice seemed to be conveniently melting under her feet as if she was the one controlling it. Which was impossible. It must have been all you. Which… what?

“Alright, does that mean Miss Iceberg over there is on our side now?” Scott yelled after everyone and it snapped Steve from his trance.

Well, it looked like it now. Steve didn’t spend much time pondering about it and rather went after Tony, who was getting dangerously close to him.

“She always has been!” Wanda cried out in response, sending Vision crashing into a plane.

“SHE WHAT?!” Steve shouted over the roar of the fight, punching Tony’s metal-covered face. The mechanical voice had asked the same question and seemed stunned – it bought Steve enough time to shoot you a look.

Oh, you were definitely fighting on their side with the way you trapped Spiderman’s hands in an impressive column of ice growing from the ground. It reminded Steve of their own arrest and confused the hell out of him.

Wanda threw away T’Challa who had come down on Bucky with a battle cry. “The letter! I was trying to tell you!”

It felt like a punch to Steve’s gut and only a second later, an actual punch followed.

Really? Was that what was written there? That you were on their side? What, the whole time? But that was impossible! You had sabotaged their escape, you had held back at every other occasion, you hadn’t come with Wanda! You had signed!

…but had you? Had you really signed, or had you just been stalling? Didn’t the fact you hadn’t arrived with Wanda give you the advantage of knowing Tony’s plan, learning any possible aces in his sleeves? Had there been a reason why you had helped the agency to get Steve and Bucky too? What kind of game had you been playing?

Steve quickly shook off the confusing thoughts. You would have to be playing Tony and everyone from the beginning. Or maybe you had changed your mind during the process?

An iron fist hitting his jaw brought him back to reality very quickly and he decided the reasons you had weren’t important – not now.

But before he could block another punch, Iron Man was gushed away by what looked like a cubic meter iceberg. Steve only gasped, his head snapping to the source. You gave him a quick smile and nodded.

“You need to go. I’ll help with holding them off.”

“But-“

“Go, Steve!” you cried out, your voice urgent, your sincere eyes glaring into his.

He saw it now. He saw you. His heart skipped a beat with the realization; you truly were fighting for them. For him. But how?

“You owe me an explain-“

“That can wait! Just go!”

“Then come with me!” he blurted out hastily, which only made you shook your head.

“Here, I can buy you some time! Go!”

“Goddammit, Snowflake, I’m not leaving you! They— I don’t know what they’ll do to you!”

“Duh, what else is new. Just move your ass, Captain!” you yelled and tiny icicles came at him from his left. He shook them off, only to realize they were fragments of the cobweb, frozen and useless thanks to your quick reaction – you had just prevented a whole new set of sticky trouble coming at him.

It made him sick all over again, because he just didn’t know what was happening, what had been happening. He shot a you a desperate glance.

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

He set his jaw tight, his feet as if frozen and itching to run at the same time. Before he could make up his goddamn mind, a wall of ice appeared, shielding him from you and his assailant.

You had decided for him. And as much as he hated it, as much as he felt like a complete ass, he had to admit you were right. He had to go.

And so he did.

The quinjet was already in the air when you fell to the ground with an agonized scream as the sharpest pain you had ever felt attacked the base of your spine and paralyzed you for several moments. You blacked out only seconds after you found a way to move your fingers; the last thing you saw was Natasha’s worried and pissed off face.

────── ·❆· ──────  

+1 (The Reversal)

The hum of the quinjet was so low no ordinary man would hear it; but now, it was two supersoldiers in it, Steve piloting, Bucky sitting beside him, and at least one of them found the white noise comforting. It muffled Steve’s loud thoughts a little. But sound could never prevent his emotions from coming at him and since he didn’t have to fight at the moment, he was failing at pushing them away.

"What’s gonna happen to your friends?" Bucky’s low tenor cut the silence like a knife, directing Steve’s thoughts exactly the where he didn’t want them to go.

His eyes absently traced the sky, his mind getting all too loud. For a moment, he didn’t even know what to say. He didn’t know the answer and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. And it wasn’t just his friends he was worried about. Even your fate was in the hands of people who didn’t really care; those who might still care must have been furious with you and their hands were tied by the stupid document that had divided the team in half anyway.

Steve had no idea what the future held; the only certainty he had was that whatever would happen, it wouldn’t be pretty.

"Whatever it is, I'll deal with it," he replied instead, trying so damn hard to keep his voice even.

"I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve.”

As if something truly broke in Steve, he cracked a sorrowful smile. Worth. Worth fighting for. Worth saving. Worth a chance at redemption. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if it was just him being a magnet for people with self-worth issues of if it came with the job description.

"What you did all those years… it wasn't you. You didn’t have a choice."

"I know. But I still did it."

The sentence was hanging in the air for a long time, too truthful to be disproved. Steve knew all too well he couldn’t change the past – but what he could always do was to fight for a better tomorrow.

"Even so, you still deserve a chance to redeem yourself."

"At what cost?” Bucky asked, his voice heavy with regrets. The knot in Steve’s stomach tightened. “This gal of yours-"

"Bucky, don't-" Steve pleaded silently, tears pricking in his eyes at the mention of you.

"-she seems... nice. I honestly have no idea whose side she was on, but she saved our asses there, kicking everyone else's.”

"I... I don't know either,” Steve admitted honestly, sighing.

What he did know for sure was that leaving you there was wrong. It felt like betraying the trust you had put into him; no matter the fact you had been the one who had told him to get out of there.

��She's good. Pretty. Badass fighter. I sense a pattern," Bucky brought up with a hint of a joke. The corners of Steve’s lips barely twitched.

"It wasn't like that when we first met."

"What do you mean?"

"Her... being like this."

Steve didn’t know what had possessed him to give in – perhaps it was the kind of talk he missed, mixed with Bucky keeping him company. With Bucky, who cared for him, who was curious about what he had missed from Steve’s life.

"What was it like then?"

"She was… alone. Scared of what her powers did. She gave me a frostbite the first time we met – without intending to. She was wallowing in guilt, because she hurt people, not knowing how it happened. Terrified she would hurt more. How's that for a pattern?"

Steve was confident Bucky had noticed the obvious nudge at their resemblance, but he didn’t take the bait. His friend lived to surprise; he snorted silently.

"You have the weirdest taste."

It brought an honest smile to Steve’s face, a warm feeling he wouldn’t expect filling his chest. Bucky continued though.

"You called her something, when we were fighting. It was cute. It was... what was it?"

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. Bucky was cool and all, but the he would never let Steve live down the nickname he had given you.

"The whole team— what used to be a team, they all have a nickname for her.... Thor, you haven't met him, he calls her Lady of Ice."

"Oh wow."

"The public... they call her Frostbite. She doesn't like it much. Stark-“ and the name tasted way too bitter on Steve’s tongue, “-calls her Elsa – it's from some new fairy tale."

"Cute. Speaking of fairy tales, anyone calls her Snow Queen?"

"No. But... uhm… a friend calls her Gerda."

"A friend, huh?" Bucky emphasized knowingly, making Steve actually blush a little. There was no way Steve could ever supress the feeling of jealousy towards the man in the Devil costume or the lawyer he was disguising as in the daylight.

"They went on a date. Right before... before we got together."

And for some reason, she had sought him out after the mission in Nigeria.

"No way,” Bucky laughed excitedly, his mood shooting up towards the stars. Steve couldn’t hold back his own smile at the happy sound. “Did you have to like... fight him to win her favour or something?"

"No. She... she picked me, without a fight."

"Ah, I can feel your ego boosting."

"Yeah, well. She… she chose me and...”

Steve thought of what Bucky said before and what he said to him – about a pattern. He thought about him almost dying when he had been injected with the anti-serum and you had almost dying, pushing yourself to your very limit to save him. About you saying no to Matt. About you pulling Steve behind you when he had laid down his shield, which had left him somewhat unprotected. About you deciding to stay with the Avengers instead of disappearing off the grid with your parents. About you running away in attempt to keep the danger from him. And now about risking everything – including his trust – when turning against Tony while standing by his side.

You had always chosen him. And this was how he was repaying you. With leaving you behind.

“And I guess she always has,” Steve stated softly, his expression missing the flicker of happiness he felt just a minute ago; the dark thoughts swallowed it all. “Worked for her well."

"What happened to dealing with what's to come?"

Steve sighed, gripping the stalk tighter. There was a lot to come and he had in fact no clue how to deal with it.

"I'm glad you have someone like her, Steve," Bucky announced, patting Steve’s shoulder brotherly.

If I still have her, Steve thought bitterly. Even if he was about to get you out of the lurch he had left you in… there was no guarantee you would forgive him his ignorance.

He didn’t say any of that out loud though.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too. It's just..." he said instead, his voice trailing off rather than finishing the sentence.

"You will deal with what's to come. You're too stubborn to give up, punk."

That he was.

"I'm not giving up on you either, Buck."

"Thanks, Steve… but that was cheesy as hell."

Steve couldn’t but chuckle. It was good to have his friend back. He just wished the circumstances were way different. If nothing else, he wished the attempt to save Bucky and take care of the potential Winter Soldiered men didn’t come with the price of leaving you behind. Leaving you with the mess he had caused and betraying you – just like he had thought you had been doing for the past few weeks.

The universe had a very twisted sense of humour. But it was something Steve would have to deal with later.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Bonus chapter

────── ·❆· ──────

That would be it – six chapters are kinda the point of 5+1 stuff.

BUT there’s a bonus coming, for much needed closure. Pretty much a cheesy one too, set after the rescue one-man mission from at The Raft. Because me and my brain apparently don’t understand the concept of a 5+1 work. Also, it offers a bit of Reader’s insight, so… hopefully it’s not such a capital crime.

Worse things have happened, right? You can always just cut it here ;) (please don’t, I mean, if you have made it this far… :D )

Also, Snowflake’s hurt at the airport was caused by the fail-safe she was installed with in Hands Too Cold, in case you forgot :-*

[beesweatercas]

Why dont u like 15x20? Full explanation please haha akkhckskf

Wow you just like playing with fire huh well dear since you asked:

Cw: su!cide, mental illness

1) Destiel aside, it was really ooc for Dean to just be like “yeah it sucks that Cas and Jack aren’t here but you know you just gotta move on :/”. We’ve seen how he reacts when someone close to him passes away, whether it’s Sam and he overdoses on medicine (Red Meat) or sells his soul, or it’s Cas and he drinks excessively and generally gets extremely depressed. Being all cheery and talking about moving on is not only a red flag for someone contemplating suicide, it’s just so out of character for Dean.

2) The blurry wife. Um. Really. I know it was meant so it was “open for interpretation” but that’s really just a fancy way of excusing misogyny.

3) The wig. If you’re going to give Sam that ending, at least do it respectably. Sam’s ending was alright, in theory, but the way it was done by making his wife blurry and naming his son Dean and the whole montage was just ridiculous imo. If they showed it better it would’ve been okay.

4)The fact that when Sam died he was surrounded by pictures of his blood family. No Cas, no Jack, hell, no pictures of his blurry wife that he loved so dearly. For a show that had a main message of “family don’t end in blood,” that was a crappy way to end Sam’s character.

5) Dean has been suicidal for a long time, and killing him off when he’s finally “happy” isn’t giving him peace or giving him the ending he wanted. If you’re going to go ahead and say that he’s gotten over Cas’s death and Jack’s absence, fine, but that would mean that Dean was content with his life. Why would he want to die when he’s happy and free? He canonically had a job application on his desk, so it’s clear that he didn’t want to go just yet, and even if he did, he wanted to at least get another shot at normal. This isn’t The Good Place where a character chooses to die when they’re happiest and at peace, this is Earth and that is not a message you want to send to human beings who are alive right now. It’s not like Dean was 90 years old and had enough of life, he was in his 40s. Who knows what could’ve happened if he had gotten the chance to live the way he wanted. And also just... a nail to the back, really, wooow. Plus Sam totally could have prayed to Jack to save him, so there were definitely ways to prevent Dean’s death and simply choosing not to use those options was ooc and sends a bad message to all people struggling with mental illness.

6) Agent Bon Jovi. Yes the idea was cool and all but come on they could’ve chosen a name that doesn’t sound funny. It killed the mood.

7) If you really think the plot of the finale was good, sure, you’re entitled to your opinion. But really take a look and think about the way it was done. The whole thing was 3 montages, a death scene, and a monster of the week plot line. I know the motw thing is their classic go-to, but for a finale I just expected something more. Also let’s not forget how they played carry on wayward son and then IMMEDIATELY followed with a COVER of carry on wayward son. Please-

8) Also following up on the Dean dying thing: Dean canonically, explicitly, wanted a big funeral with “open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, and Gary Busey reading the eulogy.” Sure, he was joking around a bit when he said that, but it was a hyperbole, an exaggeration, which means that he stretched what he meant to say, and he did want a funeral that was still meaningful and cool. What did he get? His brother and dog watching miserably as his body burns. It’s not like there weren’t friends of his that were still alive and able to come say goodbye. Do people really think Claire, Garth, Eileen, Jody, Donna, and more wouldn’t want to attend Dean Winchester’s funeral?? At the very LEAST they could’ve had Jack come down from Heaven for a few moments.

9) Not really the finale but it’s continued from 15x19: A TODDLER IS GOD. Jack should’ve had the chance to be a kid. Despite his appearances and powers, he’s still new to the world. He’ll make mistakes, just like he did before he was god, but those mistakes will have even greater consequences. I know that was where the story was going and there wasn’t really a way around it, but it just leaves a bitter taste.

10) Not even for destiel reasons, but just the fact that Dean didn’t even talk about Cas’s death. Even if he told Sam about it and said he doesn’t reciprocate those feelings, at least he would have said SOMETHING. “He saved me” isn’t enough, I’m sorry. That’s the reason Cas’s death fits the bury your gays trope; not because Cas came out and died, but because he was practically erased after that.

11) The lack of characters. Go ahead and claim corona restrictions all damn day, there was still a shot at the end with the entire cast and crew smushed together on a bridge. Mask-less. I’m sure there were a few actors who would’ve felt comfortable enough to be in the finale. If schools are able to be open with thousands of kids spreading germs everywhere and endangering each other as well as the teachers, then a show can have like 3 people added to the set for a few scenes.

12) John is with Bobby and Dean in heaven?? THEE abusive John Winchester?? You really think Dean will feel safe with his abusive father right around the corner?? You really think SAM is happy about that?? Bobby wouldn’t stand for that either! They tried to redeem John and his behavior, and that’s honestly inexcusable, that man has no right to be anywhere near those boys.

13) 15 years of character development? I don’t know her <3

14) Bringing back Jenny was pointless I’m sorry it really was, I didn’t even remember her and they killed her off 0.2 seconds after revealing her. I-

15) Might I add that if only 30% of your audience enjoys the finale, you aren’t doing your job correctly lmao

So yeah. If you’d like me to elaborate on any of these points feel free to send me an ask, dm me, or reply to this post. If you’d like to argue with me, feel free to do that too.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @ithinktoomuch4438 donated $10 and requested wincest mpreg. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

They hole up after the Leviathan are gone in a hotel, not a motel; a quiet, well-lit room, not a dingy mold-fest; a high-rise downtown instead of a squalid outskirt. Dean sits on the king-sized bed with his knee jogging restlessly, and he keeps putting a hand down to stop it but when his shattered attention comes back his knee's bouncing again. The carpet is a lush navy blue. The bedspread is silky-soft. Sam's been gone for ten minutes. Dean can't concentrate on anything, but he's split between what happened before, and what will happen when Sam gets back.

He keeps looping back. Last night, last week, last month. Six months ago. A year ago. That first time, in that motel when they'd just killed Brady and Sam had had the idea to say yes, to Lucifer, and the horror of that thought had made Dean so—bitter, so horrified, and then that had somehow cracked a wall, that had been keeping them an arm's length from each other. He puts his hand over his face. A wall. Walls keep being their problem.

They'd waited so long. They'd been so careful. Sam had held him, in that bed that they'd wrecked, and he'd kissed the top of Dean's head where Dean was tucked in against Sam's chest, and for a moment despite being the older sibling and despite all the hell that waited for them, Dean had felt—safe. Like a hal should, in a man's arms. It was something he'd never expected to get. There was a lot that he knew he'd never get.

Sam comes back. "Did anyone see you?" Dean says, instead of kissing him in relief.

Sam shakes his head, and then says, unnecessarily, "No. No, I don't think—if anyone's watching us they're being quiet about it. And we've got the hex bags, Dean."

Dean rubs his hands over his thighs, chewing his lip. Sam's stuck, apparently, over there by the door—god, this room is big compared to their usual—but of course that was the point, that this wasn't their usual, that anyone who might know their habits or who might track them wouldn't expect this. Not that Dean knew who might be tracking them, anymore.

They'd gotten rid of Dick Roman, and the Leviathan with him. The plan, just like they'd talked about—to rescue Kevin, the weird little prophet, with Crowley and Meg helping, and Castiel—crazy, stupid, ridiculous Castiel—right there at Dean's side ready to kill Dick, doing right after he'd done so much wrong. He and Dean had stood together, right outside where they knew Dick was waiting, and Castiel had taken the prepared bone out of Dean's hand, and he'd said let me, and Dean had said, no, dumbass, I'm the one—and Cas had touched him, had slid his hand right down Dean's chest to his stomach, and had held his hand flat there, and looked at Dean with eyes that shone. I'll do it. I don't want either of you to be hurt.

They'd been alone, in the hall. Dean had frozen, his grip loose around Cas's wrist when he'd meant to yank Cas's hand off his body, and he'd said, What? but of course, he'd heard, even if he couldn't quite—understand it, right then. Cas had smiled at him, very sweetly because Cas without any of his marbles was about the nicest guy Dean knew, and he'd popped out of existence, and Dean had run, had crashed through the door into the plant with Sam and Kevin running up too, and watched Cas stab Dick through the throat with the blessed bone and then the world had—throbbed. Cas had looked at him and smiled and then there'd been an explosion and then Dick was gone, and Cas was gone, and then Crowley showed up and smirked and disappeared with Kevin and then Sam had been gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back from the strange spatter of black in the lab, and he'd said did we—did we win? Dean had almost touched his stomach but held back, thinking that it couldn't be—that it wasn't possible. Sam had pulled him in, hugged him with his hand tight and soft in the short bob of Dean's hair, and Dean had said, feeling very distant from himself, Sammy, we need to leave right now.

They're a state away. The car's kinda wrecked again but Dean can fix it, later. They don't know where Kevin is, where Crowley's taken him, and Meg's in the wind, and Castiel's gone along with Dick. They can figure that out, later. He'd sent Sam to the store, while he checked in alone to this hotel under a simple alias, and he'd texted Sam room 412, hurry, and he doesn't know if Sam had hurried but here's Sam, standing with his back to the hotel room door with a bag in his hand, and his face—Dean looks, finally, at his face, instead of staring at the bag like he has been, and Sam… He's never seen that look, on Sam.

"I got three kinds," Sam says.

Dean licks his lips. "Guess you probably didn't get any booze," he says, and Sam huffs, forehead creasing, and finally Dean feels like he can stand up, even if his legs feel kind of weak, and Sam presses his lips together but crosses the room in a few quick steps and dumps the bag on the bed and then wraps Dean into his arms, his mouth at the top of Dean's ear. A shudder goes through Dean before he can hold Sam right back, his hands gripping inadequately at the back of Sam's jacket.

"We're gonna figure it out, okay," Sam says, quietly. Dean puts his forehead to Sam's shoulder, hiding away in the warm dark that's there. "We'll—we'll talk about it. But let's just—find out, first. Okay? We need to find out for sure."

Logical, sensible. Typical Sam plan. Dean ignores it, for a minute. He wants to just—stand here, leaning his weight where Sam can carry it. Sam drags a gentle thumb over the back of Dean's neck, and waits with him. Patient as a monument. Dean listens to his breath, slowly lifting the chest Dean's leaning against, and counts in his head. A minute. He gets a minute.

Sam really did get three different kinds. Dean lays them out on the nice white bathroom counter, while Sam leans in the doorway. "Jeez, how much piss you think I got in me," Dean says, kinda to himself but kinda not, and Sam's mouth curls up on one side in the mirror, even if it wasn't at all funny. He gets himself a glass of water, drinks it down like a shot, and then unzips his jeans, shimmies them down off his hips and kicks them into the corner of the bathroom. "You going to help?" he says, and it comes out kinda mean even if he didn't really—but jeez, he can't piss by himself?—except that Sam apparently takes it as an actual request, and comes forward, and unboxes the first test himself, and reads the instructions out loud, and shows Dean where to aim. Dean's left disarmed, nervous enough that his hand shakes. Sam looks at him, and braces his hand over the back of Dean's neck, big mitt fitting there warm and dry, and then he kisses the bolt of Dean's jaw just where it meets his ear, and stands behind him, and holds the test steady, right over the toilet. It's left to Dean to pull his panties down, just enough, and pull out his soft clit, and aim, and he thinks for a second he won't be able to do it, his body's clenched so tight, but then he hears Sam sigh very quietly, the breath of it touching Dean's shoulder, and his clit flexes that tiny bit and he produces a stream of pee, wetting the test right where Sam said to. Sam's hand disappears and reappears with the second test, and then he does it again, then there's nothing left but to wait, while the results appear.

Halmen tests are slower than tests for women, according to Sam. According to Sam, it's something to do with halmen's increased testosterone, fouling up the markers. According to Sam, it'll be twenty minutes before they can really be sure. "You're babbling," Dean says, and Sam bites his lips between his teeth and looks away. Somehow Sam's nervousness has calmed his own, at least for a second. Like a seesaw. When one of them's got a solid handle, the other's a wreck, up in the air. Dean washes his hands and then leaves the bathroom, with the tests lined up on the counter, and pulls off the rest of his clothes, and digs for fresh ones in his duffle.

"I'm sorry," Sam says, behind him.

"Not your fault," Dean says, automatically, and then pauses, a clean tunic just dropped over his head and swinging around his hips. "Well, actually—" he says, looking over his shoulder.

Sam really does look sorry. Dean sits on the end of the bed where he'd been waiting before, and Sam comes and sits—not beside him, but on the little loveseat under the window. Night, and the moonlight spilling in over Sam's dark head. Sam drags his hands through his hair, hunched.

"How," Sam says.

Dean snorts. The line arrives in his head—when a mommy and a daddy—but he can't get it past his throat. "You know," he says, instead, and tips so his fingers tuck under his bare thighs. Sam glances at him, then away.

Last month. Or—before. Two months ago. Sam had been insane, had been barely holding up under the weight of all those blackened memories, and then he wasn't insane anymore. Cas healed him—put himself in Sam's place, and gave Sam back to Dean. Bittersweet, but more sweet than bitter, with Sam back at his side, looking at him and being at last, entirely, one hundred percent himself. More himself than he'd been since he fell into that hole at Stull. Dean had waited to get a hundred miles from that awful hospital before he kissed Sam, and felt the relief like a kick in the head when Sam kissed him back, and meant it. They hadn't talked about it really, then. It had been enough to be back together.

He hadn't taken his pills. It hadn't occurred to him, in the chaos of almost losing Sam, in the relief of getting Sam back. His last heat had been when half of Sam was still blocked up behind the wall; the one before that, when Sam didn't have a soul, and it was a shark's unfeeling smile that offered to help Dean through it. He'd taken his pills both times and the heat was a muted, soft thing, just his cheeks flushed and his temperature high and his own wanting, but Sam hadn't come near him, and they'd had better things to do.

With Sam back—a hunt, to get Sam's legs back under him. Another, that went better. They fell into bed together each night gladly, making up for lost time. Sam kissed him sweet, and not sweet, and playful, and rough, and Dean gave back as good as he got, and when one day he woke up flushed with the sheets soaked under him, he didn't even think about it before shoving at Sam's shoulder, getting him awake, and watched Sam's eyes sharpen and his nostrils flare, and that first time, the first raw real time between them, Sam rolled him underneath and took him on his belly, with Dean's hands fisting helplessly into the sheets, and Sam's knot caught inside and tied them tight and it felt so good, so right, that Dean had actually for a few seconds cried, his body lighting up with what it had wanted so long, Sam's mouth at the back of his neck and his big frame covering Dean's, the sweat risen between them and the solid thickness inside just—perfect.

Still. It shouldn't have—done anything. Dean had been in heat, but Sam had said, in their quiet talk after the—well, the fourth time, because they were too busy to talk much before that—he'd said—

"I think it was Cas," Sam says. Dean picks up his head and Sam's sitting forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands laced between them. At Dean's look Sam shakes his head. "Not that—come on. I don't mean it was Cas, I mean…" He draws in a big breath, blows it out noisily. "I've just, I've been thinking about it. Like, racking my brains, here. It's the only thing that makes sense."

What Sam said, in the bed that day, with Dean's head pillowed on his arm and Sam's hand warm and reassuring on Dean's hip: don't worry, okay? About… I mean, we can't. I know we can't. Before, when the angels told us about how we were a—bloodline, for the vessels. I went to a doctor and I—I thought, if we win somehow, if we don't just die, then there can't be any more. We can't give them another chance. I didn't know what you were going to do but I figured, even if you did someday have a kid, then better to have another vessel for Michael than it would be to have another vessel for Lucifer, so I… Well, like I said. I went to a doctor and got the snip. So. No swimmers to worry about, okay? It's—we'll be fine.

That day, Dean had felt—hard to describe. Unbearably sad, his hormones making it worse; unbearably tender, for the way Sam had been alone, thinking about that, and made that decision alone, too.

Right now, he says, "Cas."

Sam shrugs. "He's healed me, you know? He brought my body back from the cage and it was—perfect, right? Just like when he brought you back, and you didn't have any scars or anything. I didn't either. And I mean, I guess surgery's a scar. If it wasn't then—he healed me when I was soulless, he healed me back at the asylum. It got undone, somehow. It's the only thing that makes—"

He cuts himself off, from repeating himself. Dean chews the inside of his lip, looking at Sam's bent head. "You still feel the same way?" he says. "About—?"

His voice sounds weird. Sam looks up, sits up. Dean closes his eyes, not to see Sam's face.

"I think…" Sam says. He says, then: "Tell me what you think."

"I think you were right." Dean shakes his head, then lies back on the bed, and folds his arms over his eyes so his forearms block out all the light. He talks past them into the room he can't see. "I think it's nuts. I think that if—if we're this long descended bloodline, perfectly bred to be the perfect vessels like that Cupid said, and if we're soulmates like Ash and Joshua said, then whatever kid we might have would be like—the uber super duper mega vessel, something that could hold—anything. Lucifer or Michael, or like. Friggin' God, probably, if he hadn't bailed. I think if you were a crazy angel or a shithead demon, then any kid that could do that would be like the holy grail, right? Or the evil grail. And even if you didn't use the kid as a vessel then you could probably do something else terrible. All those nasty spells the demons know? Sacrifice, and—and whatever, bloodletting and crap—and if you had an ingredient like the ultimate Winchester kid, then who knows what crazy shit you could do. Opening up Purgatory probably wouldn't even be the half of it."

Silence, for a while. "I didn't even consider that," Sam says. "I just kept thinking, if someone got the baby, you'd—we'd do anything. They could make us do anything, just to get the baby back."

Dean drops his arms, lifts up on his elbows. Sam, looking at him, shrugs, his mouth tipping in a not-at-all-happy smile. Dean bites his lip and jerks his head a little, and Sam doesn't respond for a few seconds before he stands up, and comes over, and sits beside Dean, and makes the opportunity for Dean to tug at him, and get him to lay down too. He sighs, when they're close, but he folds his arm around Dean's back and tucks Dean's head under his chin, and Dean grips his shirt and tries to forget hearing the word baby in Sam's voice. It makes too much bubble up in his head that he'd long ago put away, never to think about again.

It's why they're here. Hiding, in this hotel they've had to blow a credit card to afford. If Cas was telling the truth and wasn't just being a total nutbar, then what's in Dean's belly could be a bomb. A nuke. Something that could have all of heaven and hell and whatever's in between looking for them. But—

Sam's hand slides down his back, to his hip. Finds the hem of his tunic and rucks it up, and slides up his bare skin back over the curve of his hip, to his waist, to lay flat over his belly. He's never been a supermodel, his whole life. His chest's flat, but he's always been kind of—soft, and his stomach's no exception, with this little curve there at the bottom that he used to be self-conscious about, when he was younger. As far as he can tell there's no difference to it, now. He'd held his stomach, in the passenger seat while Sam drove them here to this hotel, and he'd thought, he couldn't tell. Seems like he should be able to tell.

Sam's fingers are gentle. He squeezes the softness, there, and when he speaks it's a little muffled, with his mouth pressed to the top of Dean's head. "I keep thinking about it," he says. Like a confession. Dean presses his forehead against Sam's sternum, aching. "About how it'd be."

Dean grips Sam's wrist, between their bodies. He pushes it down, making Sam's hand slide under the bunched-up hem of his tunic, and when Sam's fingers slide over his clit they close around it, immediately, instinct taking over. Dean hitches in a breath and starts opening Sam's belt, quick, even as Sam pushes them both over, Dean on his back and Sam rising up over him, broad and heavy and the only thing Dean wants, right now. His clit's already hard and Sam's fingers slip down between his legs, dip in where he's wet, and Dean drags his heels up, spreading his thighs to make room while he tugs at Sam's jeans, the button fly popping open, his boxer-briefs starting to swell, heat under Dean's hand. Sam fills him with two fingers, kisses him—teeth behind it, no finesse—not now—and Dean gets Sam out of his briefs and squeezes, feeling, pulling—guiding—not that Sam needs it, with how open Dean is, how needing of him. Sam tugs his fingers out and braces that hand on the back of Dean's thigh, the wet fingers dragging hot and slippery there, and Sam kisses Dean again, and again on his cheekbone, and then his breath's hot at Dean's ear as he braces and lets Dean's hands guide him—in—and Dean holds his hips instead, lifts, and Sam splits him wide, driving in, home. Dean grunts; Sam makes a low sound, hand sliding under the back of Dean's neck, into his hair. When Sam finally starts fucking him it's steady, hard, jolting almost, the curled position enough that he's threatening Dean's cervix every time he slams in, but Dean holds him tight and close and takes it, wants more, wants it deeper, wants it never to end.

It ends. Sam comes first, shuddering between Dean's thighs, and he stays inside and with fingers he wets with his own spit he jerks Dean's clit like a little dick and Dean clenches so hard and ripples so deep that Sam makes a pained sound, but Dean wraps his legs around Sam's hips and doesn't let him pull out, wishing that he were in heat so that Sam would knot up inside him, mindlessly greedy, and so Sam applies his mouth to Dean's throat and carefully starts working his clit again, squeezing steadily with his whole hand, his hips crushed in close, and the second time it ripples more slowly, a wave deep in Dean's pelvis, his fingertips numb and hot, his mouth open and gasping into Sam's hair.

Sam kisses him. He lifts up, keeping his hips in place, and cups Dean's face, and then drags his hands down—his throat, his chest. The hem of his tunic, pushed up, and up, until Dean lifts his arms and Sam can drag it entirely off, and then Sam sits up and lays his hands on Dean's belly, and Dean puts his own hands over the top of Sam's, and looks down at that instead of at Sam's face.

"Did you ever think about it?" Sam says.

A million years ago, learning how to mix formula into a bottle. A stint of babysitting, in junior high. Holding Mark's newborn niece, when he'd been living with Mark because Sam was in hell and so he had to attend a baby shower, to be a normal person like Sam had asked him to be, and stroking his knuckle softly against that dumb, fat, silky cheek, and having something inside clench, empty.

Sam's dick slips out, finally. Sam makes a quiet noise in his chest and Dean feels—wet, open. He opens his legs and Sam climbs off of him, and disappears for a second, and Dean stretches out, feels the worked tendons in his thighs, before Sam reappears with a handful of tissues and cleans him up, unromantic but thoughtful. Very Sam. He stripped off his clothes, too, and he's beautiful. Dean thinks it sometimes, in moments like this. His little brother, not at all little anymore. His muscle, and his smooth tan skin, and their shared tattoo, and his eyes as he lays back down, with Dean, with his head propped on his hand—and his hands, broad and long-fingered, and how the one not under his head fits so well on the curve of Dean's hip where it swells up out of his waist, and how much Dean loves that Sam likes to rest it there.

"Are you freaking out?" Sam says.

"Not right this second," Dean says.

Sam smiles at him, and it's very small but it's the first real smile Dean's gotten all day. Somehow that sobers Dean up. He says, "It's been twenty minutes," and watches Sam's face while he acknowledges it. He says, "Sam, we can't have a baby."

"I know," Sam says.

Dean closes his eyes but when he expects grief it doesn't come that way. It's—tangled. Slow and strange, a weird mix—sadness, wistfulness. Anger. Relief. Fingers trace over his temple, tuck his hair behind his ear, and he reaches up and catches Sam's hand, holds Sam's knuckles against his mouth.

"Do you want me to go check?" Sam says, and Dean doesn't at all but he says, "Yes," and lets Sam take his hand away, and waits on the bed, curled on his side, while Sam's weight leaves the bed and his steps are barely heard against the carpet, and the light switches on, and then there's a pause, and then the light switches off again.

A longer pause. Dean opens his eyes and there's the windows, with the night outside, and the moonlight, and the waiting city with its neon and glitter. Sam sits by Dean's hip, puts his hand right back in its place.

"I've been thinking," Sam says, after what might've been an hour.

"That's not news," Dean says.

Sam squeezes his hip. "It couldn't be forever. Heaven and hell—we're too… important, not to sound big-headed about it. We can't disappear forever, because they'd hunt us forever, and they'd find us, because they always do. But we could manage—a year. Maybe."

Dean looks up, frowning. Sam's watching his face, obviously trying to gauge his reaction.

"We have all those sigils, from the cabin," Sam says. "Somewhere else—Oregon, or Colorado. A cabin or a house, that we could take off the map, and no one could find us. No one could know."

Quiet. Dean tries to think through it. "A year," he says. Depending on when they disappeared it'd be—maybe six months, and then another six. Enough time to—god, to fall in love. To break his heart. And then what?

"It's not—enough," Sam says. He abandons Dean's hip and finds his hand, and holds it, in pure defiance of everything Dean's ever said about being a sappy bitch. Their fingers lace together and Dean holds on, tight. "But if you don't want to—" Delicate, like if the word abortion doesn't sully the air then somehow it doesn't count. "If you don't want to. We could—try. We'd have to plan it, just right. We'd have to do it perfectly."

He's being very careful, his eyes on Dean's. Careful or not Dean's brain has already switched gears, thinking ahead. Perfectly, Sam says—fuck that, it'd have to be a miracle. The house, and the hex bags, and when it came to later—when their luck ran out—the decision, they'd have to make. The size of that loss. Even knowing—

"Dean," Sam says.

Dean realizes he's got one hand on his stomach, the other so tight around Sam's that his knuckles hurt. He lets go with the one but not the other. This is—insane. Insane. The idea of it floats as delicate as a blown bubble, glinting barely seen in the air. He sits up and Sam's watching him, waiting. Sam says, "We don't have to decide today."

"I know," Dean says, but he's decided. He feels almost sick but it's—decided. Sick and light-headed, not a good combo. He can't stop touching his stomach. He thinks, in a whole careful sentence inside his head, this is a crazy idea, baby, and like that it's—concrete. It's done.

The grief will come later. For now his chest feels full, like there's champagne under his ribs and it's fizzing to get out. Insane plans are where the Winchesters do their best work, after all.

"We'll have to burn those tests," Dean says, firmly.

Sam looks at him big eyed for a second, and then laughs, a little breathless, a little worried. "We will," he says, and then he laughs again when Dean pushes him back and crawls into his lap, the laugh less worried and more careless, free. Sam's always had a soft spot for insane plans, too. Dean grins at him and Sam cups his cheek, smiles back. "Tomorrow," he promises, and Dean nods, and thinks with giddy fear about the future waiting, after tomorrow.

[purplerose244]

Irrational - Chapter 7: Our world

There it is, the final chapter of my collection for the @spacecampweek!

It was really fun working on these prompts and I love writing about my math dorks! Thank you all for reading and for all the people who made material for this week, your work is amazing!! 

For this free day the fic is inspired by the FaeAU created by @akozuheiwa! 🥰 Seamus and Steve are human princes and brothers, Aja and Krel are also loyalty but fae, the two races are at war at each other while love blossoms in between 💕💕 Jim is a chef assistant and Douxie is a human with magic that was taken in by the fae when he was abandoned as a child.

Here’s ako’s beautiful fanart about it! 😍😍 This is a Space Camp of course, with Aja/Jim/Steve along with it! It got pretty long... I had fun! 😂

Enjoy!! 💙💙💙

Summary: Humans and fae had been at war since forever, they hated each other, it was a fact. Yet his love, their love alone made reality extremely questionable, to the point Seamus didn't feel guilty about his choice anymore. He wasn't going to be miserable for eternity. Today, he was going to get his own happiness.

Read it on the AO3

His lungs were on fire, he had never run this much in his entire life. The forest seemed to be getting bigger around him, it widened his horizon, it blocked his feet from proceeding. It seemed to be doing everything in order to prevent him to go forward. His boots were dripping with dirt, the adherence was far beyond compromised at this point, it was a miracle that he hadn’t slipped a single time. Powerful voices were behind his back, getting further and further away. Swords meeting, shouts of war, everything turning into a mess of fire and hate because of him.

Only because his heart wanted to believe in this, in him, in them. Seamus would have been a liar if he had said the thought that this was a mistake hadn’t crossed his mind. Despite everything, despite honor and regret and all in between, there was only a desire of piece into his mind.

That possibility of joy resided only across that border.

Gosh, he had been there a million times now, but the trip had never felt longer. It stretched to infinity into his mind, between all that he was leaving behind and all the people he was never going to see again. He couldn’t shake away Steve’s strained smile for a single moment, as he gestured him to move forward while he dealt with their father’s guards. His own brother had given him the chance to escape, despite all the consequences coming along with it. This kingdom was ruled by a merciless ruler, that knew of power and greatness but not of people and kindness. The two of them had been born into this place, taught to always prioritize the bigger picture as in the outcome was always going to make up for the losses. It had occurred time later, too much time later perhaps, that an uncaring soul made sacrifices so much easier.

This was the proof. The fact that prince Seamus was being chased by the same soldiers that for years had been by his side, providing his protection and safety for his empire to come, showed just the level of hypocrisy of this world, where the moment someone was to do differently it was like calling upon himself a death wish.

His boot caught a massive root, the blonde tripped over mud, feeling it between his fingers. He gritted his teeth, struggling to get up, almost slipping again then proceeding.

Faster, faster, the border was still far.

He needed to get there. He needed to get to him, he-

His own scream was faster than the pain. His body couldn’t take it, after a life freed from physical pain and suffering. He was weak. His breath caught up when he found himself face into the ground again, his leg pulsing like mad. Steps were getting closer, fast and agile, and it filled his heart with dread. Seamus looked, up, recognizing immediately crest of the mole of this kingdom, granted only to the royal soldiers of the guard. It hurt madly that it belonged to a friend.

“L-Logan…” The archer narrowed his eyes, another arrow prepared. Despite the look of a warrior, his forehead was dripping with sweat. He wasn’t completely gone yet, Seamus had to believe that. “P-please, don’t do this to me! You know what he will do to me!”

Logan pressed his lips together, his hold clenching around his weapon.

“You called this upon yourself, you know that.”

“You don’t understand!”

“You’re right, I don’t. Because you were supposed to become king after him and make things better.” His voice was overflowing with bitterness. “You were supposed to solve everything!”

“I thought so too, then I realized it… I won’t be the one to make the difference.”

“Why are you saying this??” Tears were born on him, as they had been held back until now. “We used to dream about that, thinking that as soon as you were to take the throne, everything was going to turn out for the better! You are older than Steve, it was the natural course! You were going to help the kingdom, you were going to help me and my mother! But that was a lie, wasn’t it??” He closed his eyes, drops falling through his cheeks. “The king told me about your escape, how you are going to give out info to save your own skin so the fae will have mercy on your soul! You’ve gone too far, and as a soldier and a friend… I have to stop you.”

Seamus gritted his teeth, slowly lowering his eyes onto the wound. The arrow hadn’t gone deep, it had most likely struck a sensible point. Logan had been practicing his aim for years, stating that he could do a lot even when no one was looking, even when no one cared. If someone else had given him the entire speech his father had been poisoning the realm with, the blonde would have not cared.

This was not the case, so he grabbed the arrow and extracted before he could think of not doing it, letting out a strangled noise. The archer’s eyes widened. Seamus glared.

“What info would I give to the fae? That we are at war with each other? They know.” It hurt madly, but not as much as realizing that his friend had been turned against him because of his dad. Again. “They have their own problems, the only thing we have in common seems to be the awful monarchy currently in control, and you are the proof. At least I know Steve is still as stubborn as ever and has people that cares about him, enough not to let him make mistakes.”

The archer kept staring at him, as if he didn’t know him anymore, as they had been knowing each other of years without actually knowing a thing. Maybe that was true.

“You… you’re lying. You’re a prince, you hold informatio-”

“If I was any other person they would kill me at sight, you idiot!” His ankle was bleeding, he pressed his arm against it. Seeing his immaculate white sleeve turning red made him feel sick, and oddly relieved as well. “I am not going directly to them, I am not that stupid! I have no fighting experience, I am no diplomat, how would I even face them to be a snitch anyway? I am not betraying, I am running away!” Oh. Wow. He had never felt this good at screaming before. He was really going for it, he was escaping this cursed world.

Logan was agape, staring at him like he had passed away in front of him. His hands were trembling, the weapon was lowered slowly. A frown arrived, a welcomed one, because it always meant that he was thinking. At last, his friend was actually thinking.

“… that’s not what your father said.” Ah, he stopped calling him king. Good sign.

“You’re surprised that he can lie?” Seamus sighed, gritting his teeth at the burning of the wound. “I’m going to a secret place, protected by pixies. It is still at the board, but I will not betray.”

“But… why? Why are you running away?” He got closer to him, kneeling, taking out a cloth of some sort. He wrapped it around his wound, something he probably had experience with Steve. “I know that he’s very hard on you, in a way that wouldn’t be allowed if he wasn’t this powerful, but you’ve always put up with it. No matter how much it hurt.” He wasn’t that lost then. “Perhaps not in the name of your future, but you still kept yourself together for years. Why is it different now?” This, this was the perfect question.

With his pulsing leg, with his father’s guards on his traces to bring him back to that prison, with one of his oldest friend questioning him, Seamus smiled.

“I didn’t think there was a better choice. Something better… someone better.”

The forest was shaken by a blow of wind. Logan was staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, it almost felt like they were back in the gardens of the castle, laying down, blabbering about secrets and the future. The smile that appeared onto his friend was just like back then.

“Smart choice, as expected.” He put a hand over his bandaged wound. “… I’m sorry.”

Perhaps this world hadn’t taken away everything from him yet.

Then, when that minuscule moment of silence cleared up between them, the gallop of a horse grew steadily close. Seamus’ blood turned cold. The heavy, intimidating march of that mount, he would have recognized it everywhere. Bred for battle… no, bred in order to instill fear into the opponent, the realization that there was nowhere to run. The end had been determined the moment that march had stopped. Seamus had always been on the other side of that sword, assisting by his father’s side terrorized out of his mind but comforted by his own loyalty to the winning kingdom. How many years he had stalled this moment, knowing that he was only human and could only take this much? It was such a meaningless thought right now, as the horse finished his march right there.

His father got off, the thud reverberated. He was in full armor, that fancy suit as to appear mightier and better than anyone else. Those piercing blue eyes that Seamus had inherited were deadly and merciless, even more than usual, as they fell onto his offspring.

An exasperated sight left his throat.

“I wish I could say I am surprised by your behavior, son. Alas, I knew you were not meant for greatness, not you nor your brother. I cannot believe my own blood is such a disappointment!” He unsheathed the sword in a lazy gesture, almost as he didn’t have time to deal with this mess. With him. Like that was new. “Prince Seamus, you have been declared to be a traitor for the realm of Arcadia. You will be sentenced tomorrow at dawn. Guard Logan, bring him here.”

“No.”

Wow, if Seamus hadn’t been this scared for his life, he would have laughed out loud at his father’s shocked expression. Someone finally denying him something to his face, priceless.

“What?” And dangerous, so very dangerous. The archer glared.

“You lied to me, you told me the prince was a traitor but he did nothing of the sort! This was all in order to get rid of him, was it not??” He sounded so angry, furious: the carefree soldier that liked to flirt with the staff of the castle just to make them smile was unrecognizable right now. His father wasn’t moving. It felt even more terrifying. “I will not turn against him again, my loyalty resides in him and his brother. Consider me a traitor instead, ‘your highness’, because if you attack Seamus then I am your enemy.” He immediately took one of his arrows, pointing it.

Seamus couldn’t look away. Nothing but pride was filling his heart, hope and joy at seeing that there were more loyal people than he thought. Yet this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he was the one risking everything, he and Steve for what they wanted. Not him, not their friend.

The king huffed, raising his sword.

“I will not judge such a will to die. Prepare yourself!”

“I always am. Stay behind him, Seamus.” He knew he couldn’t win at all, but he was there to do everything in order to help him out. He had never been more grateful for it. “Seamus, what are you…?” For this exact reason, he couldn’t do anything else.

The blonde smiled at him, a hand on his shoulder, focusing on the image of the castle.

“Thank you… and sorry.” Logan didn’t have time to scream before he disappeared.

Right after that, in the usual blue smoke that always came with his spells, Seamus found himself with his hands in the mud for the third time. This was bad, the teleportation had been more draining than he had thought. He was insanely proud of actually performing it right, hoping only that Logan was going to be rightfully teleported into the castle and not on a tree or something. He had never had this much control over his powers, Douxie’s lessons had definitely helped. Knowing his own value, his goal, and the people he really cared about and cared about him back was a huge motivation as well.

Once again, seeing his father this baffled, out of control, would have been his biggest satisfaction if only he wasn’t there to fight for his life and for his happiness. When the mystical smoke cleared up, an expression of pure horror contorted his grumpy face.

“You dare use magic?! You freak! How dare you bring such shame to our family! I will not associate with one of your kind, not now, not ever! You’re a disgrace!!”

Seamus actually snorted, stretching his arms. He had a bit energy left. It was going to have to do.

“You do know I’m not five anymore, right? I stopped caring about your approval ages ago.”

“You dare try to act tough in my presence?”

“I don’t have to show you anything. You know, I used to think my powers were actually something to be ashamed of, something that was going to get me killed.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The forest was chanting in a low tune, it was nothing like the side where the fae resided. There everything was overflowing with energy and life. “It turned out, keeping my real self hidden, that was what was really killing me, so slowly I didn’t even realize it.” He looked up, his father was still holding the sword in that mighty way that was only meant as a show. What a fool, Seamus knew that he had never struck a foe in his entire life. He was a commander, he was of big built and that helped, but he was no warrior. Just like himself. “So today… today I come to life, at last.”

He must had taken a bit of his brother’s love for dramatic speeches, he was the one who always did that whenever he had to train. It was also a great way to gain some time, while magic operated by tying around his father’s boots. It was petty, it was extremely childish, and Steve would have been so proud of him… hoping he was going to come out of this unscathed.

His father roared at him, trying to charge. With that, he was falling, making this the highlight of Seamus’ life. The might rock that was this man, the highest place he had aspired to be at for the longest time, was falling down into the mud.

The blonde turned away right in that moment, running, forcing his bad leg.

“SEAMUS!!!” His father’s thundering voice echoed through the entire forest.

When he was a child, his mother used to read him stories. It was around the time where Seamus had chosen knowledge while Steve had picked up a sword, drastically changing how their father wanted them to be raised as. Their education had become different, the time spent together as well, almost as they belonged to two different worlds. Their mother had been the reason why they had never drifted apart. Her books were about heroes, knights, princes and princesses, legends and history all mixed together until they disappeared. The most beautiful ones where the one with long descriptions, because his mother had the loveliest voice, calm and peaceful, that had the power to materialize the place into his mind and into his heart.

Perhaps before jumping into this risky decision Seamus would have liked to ask her, if she was the reason why he had never been like other humans, why he could feel magic while others couldn’t. Despite that doubt forever into his mind, all he could think right now was how much he wanted to tell her about this freedom, this feeling of determination. How running wildly like this felt like he was part of those stories, part of his own at last.

As the forest opened up a little more around him, and he pushed his leg to the limit while it was screaming in agony, he noticed the little details. The edges of the leaves, the shades onto the trunks, the blades of grass, they were all turning slightly blue. The feeling around was changing too.

“When the forest will start to turn into the color of the sky, you will know you are close.”

“If you have no ill intent as I know, the Glade will let you in.”

“We will meet there so please, make it out alive. Please.”

Seamus smiled, his eyes pinching. He could make it. He was going to make it.

Then it came, again the devastating galloping behind his back. His body froze, for two seconds, then he was turning around with his hands out. He didn’t have enough magic to fully defend himself now, he had started to learn new tricks quite late according to Douxie. He wanted to learn more, he was going to learn a lot more. He forced his concentration and his hands caught fire. It was flickering, he was gritting his teeth like mad to keep it lightened. As soon as the face of the animal appeared, running like mad towards him, he threw both hits towards its legs. The house neighed painfully, arching its back and then falling onto the ground.

His father had his hand raised before that, a moment before he was to fall from the horse. Seamus screamed again, whimpering with anger as he caught sight of the dagger into his side. It had his crest on it, carved along the handle, almost as a reminder that he was never going to forget that pain, this feeling of inferiority coming from his own family. His frustration wanted to take it out, his rationality blocked him right on time.

He held himself up, as his father was doing the same with eyes bloodshot.

“You will not escape me, you hear me?? You are a freak, a dark spot on my family’s honor, and I will not let you leave for anyone else to know!!” He was holding the sword like he wanted to beat him up with it, he really had never followed a proper formation. He wanted to make others fear him, but his superiority made him feel like he was beyond peasants’ training.

Seamus wasn’t surprised. He was frustrated, mad, because he was so close and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He couldn’t give up now, no, never.

He took the deepest breath. Nature was still by his side. He smiled.

“Scared than I might actually be a threat?”

“I knew you were a mistake, I knew you were nothing but a nuisance!”

“Oh spare me that, you never needed a reason to despise me, it had always come awfully naturally to you! At least I didn’t go through the same punishments Steve had during his own training, something you never even went through yourself.” He was most likely worsening his situation, but he didn’t care anymore. He had lived a life being as careful as possible trying not to anger him, because he thought that there was never going to be anything worse than not have his approval. It turned out there never was in the first place. “You want to kill me? Try. I will not go down easy.”

His father was breathing heavily, his nostrils were wide and fuming. His entire face was red, his sword was shaking into his sword out of madness alone. He was the embodiment of his worst nightmares from when he was a kid. Now, all his thoughts were on those beautiful blue eyes popping out of the dark, his arrogant laugh from whenever he was right.

Seamus raised his hand. No branch came up. He fought back the tears because he didn’t want this, he wasn’t going to end it like this. He had never wanted something this badly before.

The king started to march towards him. Every step felt like the tick of a clock.

This wasn’t the end.

This couldn’t be the end.

“You are not getting out of his forest alive. You are not strong enough to defeat me.” He was right, but Seamus was never going to admit it. He tightened his fists, hoping, praying that he could do something. The familiar feeling of hopelessness was starting to burn from his stomach. “I will erase you, just like I will erase every single scam that contaminates this realm! And as soon as it will be done, we will finally take over the rest of the kingdom from those dirty fae!!” This man was the real illness, the poison that was making the entire realm sick to its roots. He wished he didn’t care only to hope he was going to implode with his own sick ideals, but that wasn’t reality. He was going to bring everything with him. Seamus couldn’t stop him. “I have been waiting my entire life for it, and if you think you can stop me then- What is this?!?”

Oh. Would you look at that.

The prince wished that, at this critical moment, he was to acquire some superior magical powers in order to defeat this man once and for all. It would have definitely made up for all of his frustration, plus telling this tale would have been nicer. Alas, this was his story but not a legend, it would have not been fair, especially for such an inexperienced wizard like him. Then again, he didn’t have to be the main hero of the situation. He could take being a supporting character.

One that knew extremely well about that instrument that was playing in the air, carved from the fallen horn of a dragon and enchanted by Douxie himself, so that whenever a certain brother of his was in need of help it was going to be heard from everyone, everywhere. That meant that he was okay. That meant that Logan was okay and had warned him just in time.

Seamus immediately grinned, feeling a huge weight falling down, while the king was looking around, even more fuming and even more confused.

“You know, I might not be able to stop you, so why don’t you take someone your own size? Or maybe…” Her timing was impeccable as always. The Queen-in-waiting of the fae arrived diving in between the crowns of the trees and struck her hit right as he was talking, disarming the clueless human. “… way stronger?” Her blonde hair was flowing into the wind, her blue armor was so shining it reflected nature itself. The king backed away, eyes falling onto the sword now on the ground, then onto his new opponent.

Aja landed in front of the prince, her rapier sharp and ready, her eyes completely focused.

“If that is the request, you have found your foe, your highness.” She looked definitely pissed, which was to be expected since Steve had only ever used the horn in dead or alive situations. Her intentions were probably to finish with him and move forward to her beloveds. “Although do not be mistaken, this is not a fight you are able to win. Perhaps you untrained and arrogant human might be able to take on a wizard while hurt and lacking energy to defend himself,” No filter, like everyone in her family. “But I have trained since I have memory in order to protect those I care about. My strength, my motivation, my ability, you are nothing in comparison.” Her determination was shining through. It made every single word count.

The king stumbled onto the ground to retrieve his sword, but from his eyes it was clear that he also knew what was going to happen to him. As soon as he was up, he ran towards his horse, still down lowly lamenting, and grabbed something from his bag.

Another horn. His face contorted into a horrific smile.

“You think you are the only one that can call help?? I will not lose to a lowlife like a fae, not with an army by my side!” He blew in, Seamus held his breath… nothing came out. “What-”

“You found my present, your majesty!” Perhaps he didn’t have as much of a joyful reaction as Aja at hearing that voice, but it definitely made him smile. “Since you’ve been throwing away all my freshly made bread for years because it’s hard or something, I thought that maybe I could throw away all my sourdough in the first place. I hope you’re proud.” Especially since, as soon as the chef assistant Jim appeared from the woods, he was bringing along his brother, while holding an arm around his neck for support. “The useless stick together I guess?”

Steve was red from laughing, shaking his head.

“This was so petty, I taught you well!” He kissed him on the cheek, making him blush very vividly, then he turned to their father. “Can’t call your friends for dinner? Too bad, dad!”

He was okay. He was snappy, cocky, and arrogant. His brother was okay.

It took maybe two seconds for Aja to let out a joyful scream, take flight and immediately launch herself over the two, managing to hug them without tackling them. Steve snickered even louder without moving, his arm wasn’t probably at its best right now. Jim grinned widely, placing his free hand over her back, whispering something that made her giggle even more. Seamus didn’t dare to move, not to tempt his bad leg, not to ruin a moment that was definitely not his. As soon as he crossed his brother’s brown eyes and got the biggest smile, he knew that it was fine. The both of them, they were going to be fine.

The king was roaring like an animal, pushing his fingers inside the horn to free it from the sticky substance. He backed away, staring with disgust at the three of them. Aja was immediately in front of her beloveds, rapier out, daring him with the eyes.

“You are not going to win, human king. Surrender if you may.”

“Never! My guards will arrive anyway, it is only a matter of time!”

“They’ll find a sad old man on his own butt after being beaten up, then.” Steve snickered, turning to Seamus. “What are you waiting for, an invitation? Go get him, come on!”

Ah, that was why it hadn’t felt real before, their goodbye at the castle.

“Steve…”

“I’m not kidding Seam, come on.” Despite his conditions he extracted his sword, pointing it at his own dad while Jim was relentlessly supporting his weight. “I found my own happiness, all the good stuff mom always told us about. Time for you to do the same.” They had talked about this, that they could had gone together, as brothers. But unlike Seamus, Steve had more to hold on to, he had Jim and his life, and Aja was ready to fight alongside him.

He really found a nice place to be in. Seamus nodded, looking at the fae and the assistant chef.

“Look after him. He can be a lot.” A murmured ‘Look who’s talking’ made him laugh. Jim nodded vividly, keeping himself up like an actual warrior.

“He’s worth all of it. Have a good life, my prince.

“Of course, until the very end.” Aja smiled at him. “And you… make him happy.”

That was a promise. Seamus started to run right there, trying to make as much distance as he could from himself and that place. One last peak made him see his father one last time, red and fuming like a baby, the armor dirty and covered in dirt and mud, with his fingers covered in sourdough. This wasn’t an honorable man, this was barely a man to begin with. His entire mind was contorted and was probably never going to come back to his senses. The prince didn’t care anymore, and it was the best he had ever felt in his entire life.

The forest widened some more in front of him, this time he knew he wasn’t far. When a different horn was played in the air his breath hitched, that prank was of course only gonna get them so far. He knew they were going to do it though. Aja wanted to unify their kingdoms, she wanted to do what Seamus’ parents and her own had never been able to. It was going to take a lot of time, but if anyone had the patience and the enthusiasm, it was her.

She was the hero of the story. He was there to accomplish his own victory.

One of his legs gave up on him. Fourth time today, he was beyond annoyed. His side wasn’t collaborating, the dagger was still there. Seamus bit his lip, looking at his hand. It was going to hurt, but he needed to keep going. He really hoped he could do this much.

He focused all he had left inside over the palm, frustration, anger, despair, and soon it started to emit heat. Nowhere near his usual flames, but it was enough. He took a deep breath, held onto the handle of the dagger and pulled it out. He screamed. Then he lifted his shirt and put his boiling hand over the wound. He screamed again, louder, forcing his palm to stay where he was. Tears streamed through his cheeks. The magic left him even more tired, the pain was shocking him awake. It lasted nothing and forever. He looked down. It stopped bleeding. It was most likely going to scar, but he didn’t care. As long as he was alive.

It took even too much time to get up again. He couldn’t be sure that there weren’t any guards on their own chasing after him. He picked up the pace, he was doing better. It still hurt like mad, and he was exhausted, but he wasn’t going to pass out in a place like this, not right now. The land was getting even bluer around him, the leaves, the branches, even the ground he was stepping onto. The air was fresh but not cold, comfortably cool over his skin.

Then he noticed it, because it was like a mirror in the middle of the woods. It traced the celestial vegetation all around, and the image of a human who looked like he had been to war. Seamus swallowed, getting closer, feeling fresh air coming from it somehow.

He raised his hand, expecting a portal.

It was a wall.

His eyes widened. He pressed some more, feeling resistance, like it was a legit mirror, and he was stupidly think there was something on the other side.

“No… no, please!” He put both hands, pushing forward. “I have to get in, please!!” He felt so weak, so weak and pathetic. He could see it all. His smile, his eyes. His sharpness, his way of being, him existing. Everything was so close and it wasn’t fair. “Open! Open for me! I command you!!” His voice seemed to bound against the surface. His reflection started to cry. His cheeks felt wet. “Please… please, I have to be there…” He let his tired body lean against the surface, it wasn’t flat, but it was there. “I have to… I want to…” He had been fought for so long against his own father and now… he didn’t care. For revenge, his own pride hurt, how he could had said to him the worst ever conceived. He didn’t care. He just needed to go. “… I need to see him.”

It felt like a push towards the right direction. In reality, the resistance had disappeared, and he had fallen forward. Somehow his very trembling legs had managed to save him from just another ridiculous fall today, although he felt absolutely no strength inside of them. It was like oscillating onto two sticks. He was up by will, a pinch of pain, and a lot of despair that had almost disappeared the moment he had opened his eyes.

When he did, it was bright. There was a completely different forest in front of him, of a green so bright it looked like a sun. He could smell lots of flowers, the air was almost unnaturally fresh, the ground he was on was so tender it was almost pillowy.

He stepped forward. A purple flower moved, a pink one and an orange one as well. Perhaps it should had occurred him that those didn’t fly, but he was at his limit.

“Ah, human! How did he get in??”

“No Mary, look! It’s the human prince!”

“Oh no, are you okay? Quick, let’s get Douxie!”

Before he could even think to make sense of how those plants talked, even though someone with magic like him wasn’t even supposed to be surprised, the world started to spin. Everything was misty and unfocused, his sight was getting extremely nitid and unnaturally unfocused in sequence. He moved another step, seeing another flower on the ground, a red one. This time even his tired brain noticed that his arrow wound was open and dropping.

The dizziness came altogether.

“Hey, you made it! I thought my lovelies were just playing with me, you were so quick- Oh, you look terrible!” Ah, that direct calming voice he recognized. Even in the fog Douxie’s blue hair were easy to notice. “Hang on, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? It will be okay!”

Something happened after that, he didn’t remember what. Only that it had probably been his fifth fall, the only one he had allowed himself to do willingly. Douxie must had grabbed him before touching the ground, because he had abandoned himself to unconsciousness without a single pain in his mind. He had lost sensibility to his leg, he was so exhausted he couldn’t feel a thing. All he perceived was a shifting of place, then a sudden humidity around him, of a mineral kind, not unpleasant. More flowery scents arrived, while his body still refused to cooperate. It felt so nice. It felt so nice to finally rest, but he didn’t want to. Not yet. Not yet.

He had hold onto lucidity with all he had left, for a time he was not aware of. Then, at some point, he had felt someone holding his hand, and a drop falling onto his palm.

“You will be fine, my love. I am here now.”

It could had been a dream, a pain induced hallucination. His mind and heart didn’t think so.

 ***

 When consciousness came back Seamus still had his eyes closed. He pondered if it was actually a good idea waking up, because despite his mind still being a little fuzzy, he was sure he was in a pretty bad condition, and it didn’t sound appealing to feel all that. Then it occurred him where he was, what had happened, and nothing was going to make him fall asleep again.

He opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling of a cavern. It shined of little sparkling minerals all over, making the rock look like a glowing blue mosaic. There was the sound of water from a far, a little waterfall perhaps, for the rest it was plain nature. It felt like the quietest place of the world, but all the doubts hurrying into his mind made it chaos in any case. Slowly, hoping into self-healing powers he never had and most likely was never going to have, he got up on a sitting position. Huh, it didn’t hurt… at all, actually.

Looking down, he found himself without his shirt, with his side showing a nasty scar. His pants had cuts everywhere, from the forest and the people, but his leg felt mostly okay.

Overall, he looked pretty good. He took a deep breath, and the smell made him gasp.

“Peonies…” They were nothing like the ones his mother had cultivated in their garden, they were glowing and changing color constantly, from red to yellow then green blue purple and over again. He had been laying down on a bed made of those. “Huh, I knew they symbolized good health, didn’t know on which extent.” This place was truly magical. He could feel his own soul regenerating. He touched a flower while focusing, it raised a little growing a leaf. He smiled.

Then he turned, and his heart skipped a beat. There was another bed station right next to him. An empty cloth lied down, a bag made of leaves, and a few books piled.

Seamus stayed frozen, looking helplessly. Then he grinned, jumping onto his feet and running.

As he had suspected, the cavern was situated close to a little waterfall. There was a pond of the most crystalline water he had ever seen in his life, reflecting the trees that were still sheltering from the sun. There was a game of reflections into the water, shining through colors and different shades. Beautiful, but nothing in comparison of the most gorgeous fae in the world.

Krel was kneeling next to the pond, filling in a little vase with water. His hair was covered in the light shapes that the trees were reflecting all over. His eyes were low and a little gloomy, following the stream of water that was filling the container. His clothes were a little messed up like his, meaning his own trip had probably been quite difficult as well. He was there, he was right there at last, keeping his promise no matter what. He got up right at that moment, sighing a lonely breath before turning back towards the cavern.

When their eyes met, it was like a calling. Their own way of communicating, because they had been both taught to repress everything in order to meet expectations, yet it was too much having each other to contain what they had.

The fae prince carelessly let go of the vase. His eyes teared up as he immediately went flying towards him. Seamus beamed at him, opening his arms right on time to take in the hug.

They made it. They were here together. They actually made it.

“Do not scare like me again, ever again!” How he had missed this voice, how much he had longed for this moment. It felt like all the rush and the pain had been already worth it. “You have promised me your life and I have promised you mine, you won’t get out of our agreement this easily!” He was pressing his wet eyes onto his shoulder, almost clawing his back closer to him. “I… I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” His voice dropped, getting more silent.

Seamus shook his head, reaching for his shoulders to gently push him away. Gosh, they were so slim, he was so fragile, especially in comparison to his sister. They were both vulnerable, not made for the battle, carrying too much on their backs. Meant for something else.

They looked at each other again. His tears were brushing the glowing marks on his face. The blonde wiped them away with his thumb.

“You didn’t hurt me, fat- well, the king did.” This wasn’t about him. “You saved me, Krel.”

“You saved me. From living a life as a merciless monster, unable to understand that there are no good fae and bad humans.” He embraced him again, hiding his head in the crook of his shoulder. “You gave me reality, something that might not be easy to obtain for the other fae. Me and Aja are lucky enough to have found people that opened our eyes.” It had been a reciprocating situation, they had both realized many things about each other’s worlds. The mention of those people sent a shiver through his back, there was no way Krel hadn’t noticed. “The son of the human duke had sent a messenger, apparently he had befriended a dwarf. It has a particular name, at least three vocals in it, sounds quite painful. Anyway, he said that they are all fine.”

“… for now.” Krel nodded. They parted, still holding hands. Seamus smiled sadly. “Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy. All we can do is hold on to it.” He knew they were on the same page, he had never trusted anything more. The fae was glowing. He looked wonderful. “It was a big step this one. We can focus on this for now, right?” This was nowhere near over. Their kingdoms were still divided, their worlds were still apart, there was much to be done.

Even so, looking at how his eyes lightened up at him, smiling like it was the best future he could had asked for, it felt easier to hope for the better.

“It sounds good.” He stepped closer. “I love you, Seamus.”

Seamus grinned, brushing their noses together.

“I love you too, Krel.” His mind, his body, his heart, they all moved forward.

He had learned so much about himself and his world from this person, every important part reconnected to him and him only. There was a longing, a connection, and whenever they kissed it felt like reaching out for that bond to hold onto it, to feel how good it was. He had always smelled like wild flowers, today it mixed with cut grass and effort. Krel laced his hands around his neck and Seamus knew what was to happen, holding onto him immediately. He had never told him, but whenever the fae prince was particularly lost into the moment, he started to float, bringing him along. It was a magical experience that was only theirs.

The blonde liked to think that this was meant to be. That they had built it together, slowly and steadily, with patience and effort, but that their meeting had been played out perfectly by destiny. He wondered if that would have been the same in every other universe, if their lives were to play in another context, with them as completely different people.

Perhaps so. He wanted to think so. No matter the place, as long as it was the two of them, that was where they were supposed to be.

Their world.

[xwaywardhuntress]

One Hell Of A Dream

Summary: Dean ends up in a coma after a hunt gone wrong. Sam calls Y/N for help. Y/N and Dean were best friends till they had a falling out, but she may be his only hope.

Pairings: Dean x reader

Warnings: Language, Not much Dean in the beginning

Word Count: 4900+

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is fanfiction only. Please do not redistribute my writings on other sites, horrible or not. Thanks!

“What the fuck do you want?” You answered your phone after it had been ringing non-stop for the past hour, waking you up.

“Y/N? Finally, you pick up. It’s Sam. Sam Winchester.” The other voice on the line greeted.

You rubbed your eyes as you looked at the clock on the nightstand of the motel room that read 6:36 am. You had just finished up a ghost case in California and would be heading out for another case in Colorado after you got to sleep in. Unfortunately, it seemed that fate was not in your favor with this early morning call. “Sam? Why are you calling me so damn early in the morning?!”

“Early? It’s 8:36am where I’m at. And I know you usually don’t sleep past 8am. Where are you?” The younger Winchester asked.

“California.”

“Oh, so you’re two hours behind. Sorry about that.” He apologized as you imagined his embarrassed look from not considering that maybe you were in a different time zone.

You sat up on the motel bed, “Well, I’m awake now. Why are you calling?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. A pause that worried you as you waited. As you were about to repeat your question to Sam, he finally spoke. “It’s Dean.”

Now, it was your turn for silence on your end. The last time you had been in the same room as the older Winchester, you went from best friends to acquaintances all in one night. You had developed feelings for Dean over the years that you knew the Winchesters. Before the recent 6 months, you had been hunting with them. You and Dean got along really well, sharing the same interests. And then there was Sam, who was like a little brother to you as you were one year older than him.

Since that one night, you had walked out on them and resumed to hunt alone. You would text Sam at least once a month to let him know you were still alive, while also still confirming that the brothers were alive too, even if you were at odds with the older one. You knew eventually that you would cross paths with them again or that the destined phone call from Sam about Dean playing some kind of sacrificing martyr would come one day.

“Y/N? Are you still there?” Sam asked as you left him with silence. “Look, I know something big happened between you two that one night that caused you to leave. I never took sides, although I bet Dean had said something he regretted after. But I’m calling you now because I think you’re the only one that can help me.” His voice had lowered on his end, with a tone of desperation.

This was it, you thought. He was calling because Dean was about to do something stupid where he would sacrifice himself and Sam somehow thought you’d be the savior that Dean needed. You took a deep breath in and released it as you answered. “I’m still here. What happened, Sam?”

“Dean’s refusing to wake up. We were hunting a djinn and Dean played the bait. I was against it and of course, he didn’t listen and got himself captured. I killed the djinn and got to him and the others that were captured as well. I got them all out. Cas already healed him, but like I said before, he is refusing to wake up.” Sam explained.

“He must be having one hell of a dream then.” You commented without thinking. You didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but anything related to Dean left a bitter taste in your mouth. “Sorry…” You apologized to Sam quickly after. In his explanation, you had heard almost a hint of defeat. The younger Winchester really feared that Dean preferred the dream world to the real world. In a way, this made you interested in this dream world Dean seemed to want to stay in. You couldn’t help but think that maybe it was filled with a ton of strippers or unlimited pie. You sighed in defeat as you knew you couldn’t say no to Sam. “Alright, where are you guys now?”

“We’re back at the bunker. Cas can come get you.” Sam answered with a sigh of relief. “We don’t know how long his body will want to stay alive if he isn’t even fighting to come back to the real world and…”

You interrupted Sam, “I get it. You need me there now. Sure, send the angel.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I owe you big. See you soon.” The younger Winchester said before hanging up.

The moment he hung up, Castiel appeared at your bedside. After quickly gathering your belongings, the angel in a trench coat brought you back in the bunker in a blink of an eye.

Immediately Sam went for a hug. “Thanks for coming…” He pulled away from the hug. “When we wake up my stubborn brother, you can leave if you’re not ready to face him yet. I’ll understand. But I think you being here will help a lot.”

“I doubt it.” You mumbled to yourself, which Sam caught and frowned. “Sorry.” You apologized again. “No offense, you’re brother hasn’t once reached out to me since I left. So let me be clear and say, I’m here to help you, not him.”

“Fair enough.” Sam sympathetically smiled.

“So what’s the plan?” You asked, getting straight to business.

Sam led you to the room him and Cas had placed Dean in as he explained they would be using African dream root to enter Dean’s dream with the help of Castiel. It sounded like a simple plan, but when was anything ever simple with the Winchesters?

While Sam prepared the African dream root for drinking, you waited in a chair that was next to Dean. You couldn’t help yourself as you took in the older Winchester’s features. For the six month that had passed since your fight, Dean had looked much more tired than from what you remembered, despite currently sleeping and dreaming.

“He’s missed you.” Castiel spoke up from behind you.

You turned to look back at the angel with a sad smile. “If he missed me, he would’ve came after me. It wasn’t like I was trying not to be found.”

Castiel took what would be Sam’s chair, as he sat next to you. “He’s regretted those words every day since you left and doesn’t believe he can be forgiven for them. That’s why he hasn’t gone after you.” The angel shared.

You looked back at Dean dreaming as you remembered the words he said to you that made you decide you would leave. “It’s your fault they’re dead! And eventually you’ll get Sammy and I killed too!”

Before you could think further back into that fateful night, Sam came walking in with two cups in his hands. He handed you one and then took the seat Cas had been on previously. Cas stood in front of the both of you. “I will link you both to Dean’s mind. However, it will be up to you two only to find him and get him to wake up. His mind has fought me when I tried to enter it alone earlier. I will be fighting it to keep the link so I can pull you out once he is ready to come back.”

You nodded your head as you brought the cup to your lips and took Sam’s hand in your other. Taking a look over at Sam, you noticed he was going for a cheer. You held the cup away from your mouth and in the air, “To sweet dreams.” You commented as Sam nodded his head with a chuckle, finding this type of sarcasm a bit more refreshing. Both of you drank all of the dream root and you were sad to say that it was still disgusting. Placing the empty cups on the floor, Castiel placed two fingers on your forehead and then two on Dean’s and then there was darkness.

-

You awoke to slight shaking. It was Sam. “Hey Y/N, you good?”

You stood up with the help of the younger Winchester as you took in your surroundings of nothing. Around you two was just darkness. “Is this Dean’s mind?” You asked aloud.

“Yeah. Think so.” Sam answered, looking around as well…for anything.

“It’s empty?” You asked the obvious question. “I don’t get it. Where is he? Is he not dreaming?”

“He doesn’t want to let us in.” Castiel appeared behind both you and Sam, causing you to jump a little. The angel continued, “I’m trying to find a way in, but he’s built strong walls to block outsiders. Perhaps you both can try calling out to him.”

“Dean! Come on! Let us in! It’s me, your brother. Y/N is here with me too!” Sam began yelling, taking Cas’s suggestion.

You, on the other hand, curled your hands into fists along your side. Of course, Dean Winchester would build up a literal dream wall to keep outsiders out. He was one stubborn asshole that you were beginning to get irritated with. First, he says the one thing he knows will hurt you the most that would cause you to leave. Second, he doesn’t come after you because he felt he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. Let’s be real, despite what he said, if he had come after you, you two would’ve probably been back to being best friends. And now, lastly, he was choosing a stupid dream over reality where he’d be abandoning his brother, Castiel and even you. He wasn’t just a stubborn asshole, he was also a…”SELFISH SON OF A BITCH!” You yelled aloud.

Sam and Cas looked over to you with wide eyes, surprised by your outburst.

You couldn’t help but continue to yell, “That’s right, you heard me Dean! You’re selfish for pushing me away with words you knew would work! You’re selfish for thinking you can’t receive forgiveness! You’re selfish for wanting to run away from the real world problems and stay in whatever stupid dream you’ve conjured up! Damn it, you better let us in! I still care for you, you selfish asshole!”

And then a light appeared ahead of you.

“That’s the opening. He’s letting you guys in. Go!” Castiel yelled as Sam ran past you before you followed after him.

When you had reached the light, you both were blinded before the scenery around you changed from complete nothing to a street with houses along each side.

“So is this the dream now?” You asked as you both began walking down the street.

“I would say so.” Sam answered, a bit weird out.

Well, this was just icing on the cake. As you looked at each house you both walked by, they all had a white picket fence. From the late-night talks you’d have with Dean before, you knew a part of him desired the apple pie life and the details of how it would look. You felt a stab at your heart. If this dream was his apple pie life, that would mean kids and being married to someone you always told yourself wouldn’t be you.

Sam broke your thoughts, “All of these houses look pretty much the same. I’m not sure how to tell which one Dean is in. Maybe if the Impala was parked in front of one, but none have it. This probably is another one of Dean’s way to hide himself in the dream.”

“I guess we treat it as a case? Pretend to be part of some neighborhood security and knock on each door?” You suggested as you both stopped walking.

“Alright, which one do we start with?” Sam asked, agreeing to your idea.

You looked around when you spotted a little boy staring at you and Sam. “Uh, Sam? Maybe let’s start there?”

Sam looked over at the boy staring at you both. He agreed the boy could be a starting point and began walking over to him.

As the both of you got closer, you both couldn’t help but feel a familiarity with the little boy.

“Hi there. We’re new to the neighborhood. Are your parents’ home?” You smiled, squatting to the boy’s height, asking politely.

The little boy shook his head, “No, but you’re pretty like my mommy.”

The compliment took you back a little as you thanked him.

Sam squatted down next to you, with a soft smile. “Are you home alone then?”

“No, my baby sister is inside. Mommy and Daddy had to leave fast to the hospital. I was told to wait for Uncle Moose.” The little blonde boy responded.

“Uncle Moose, huh?” You rose a brow as you looked at Sam eyeing him. You then turned to the little boy, “Would it be okay if we wait with you then till your Uncle Moose shows up?”

“Okay! I like you both! I want to show you my car collection! Come on!” The little boy yelled excitedly as he ran back into the house.

You and Sam stood back up and began walking towards the house. It was Sam who spoke first, “That’s definitely Dean’s kid.”

“Mmm.” That was all you could say. You’d finally be witnessing the apple pie life that Dean had wanted.

As you both entered the house, you both found the interior to be aesthetically decorated. You could see what Dean’s touch was, but everything else was most likely his wife’s idea. You couldn’t help but like his dream wife’s style. It was pretty similar to yours, honestly.

Before you had a chance to continue to explore, the little boy came back running to you with a toy car, an impala. “This one is my favorite! My daddy has a big one in the garage!” The little boy excitedly share.

You and Sam instantly looked at each other as it was pretty much confirmed to be Dean’s house. As you were about to reply to the little boy, a little girl appeared behind him, rubbing her eyes. “Jay…is mommy and daddy back?” And then the little girl looked up at you. The instant you both locked eyes, it was like looking into a mirror, if you were about 4 years old. The main difference was in the eye color, they were emerald.

Jay turned around to face his sister. “No Mary, but I met these people outside waiting for Uncle Moose. They said they’d wait with us.”

Immediately you and Sam looked at each other again. You could tell from his look that he was probably thinking the same thing. The little girl named Mary looked like a smaller version of you.

“I’m hungry.” Mary yawned.

The little boy Jay, went over to his baby sister, grabbing her hand. “Daddy said there are leftover mac and cheese. Come on.”

You and Sam followed the two kids as you watched the boy reheat and serve his sister the mac and cheese. You couldn’t help yourself but walk over, “Do you need help with anything, Jay?”

The little boy looked over at you with a smile. “I got it. Thank you. And only Mary calls me Jay. My name is John.”

The moment the little boy shared his name, the front door was heard opening as a familiar voice yelled out for John and Mary. It was Sam’s voice.

“Uncle Moose!” Both of the kids excitedly yelled as they ran towards their uncle.

You and Sam looked at each other, debating if you should show yourselves or get out of there. Before you could decide, John had been leading Uncle Moose to the kitchen, where you all had been at.

The moment Uncle Moose saw you two, he immediately pulled the kids behind him, telling John to call his father and take his sister upstairs. Uncle Moose was Sam, just as you both had thought.

“Who the hell are you two?!? Shapeshifters? I thought we got rid of you all.” Uncle Moose accused.

You and Sam both held your hands up in the air. “We’re not shapeshifters. We’re not any kind of monsters.” You tried explaining.

“Then get out of here. You don’t belong here.” The older- looking Sam ordered.

“No. We’re here to see Dean.” Sam counter-replied.

“Dean doesn’t want to see you two. He has me, his wife and his kids. He’s happy here.” The other Sam shared. “Don’t you want him to be happy?”

“Not like this. It isn’t real.” You joined in the conversation.

“It’s real enough.” The other Sam said before he waved his hand at you causing the both of you to fly out of the house and out on the streets.

You watched as the door to the house slammed shut. “Perfect. Another defense mechanism of Dean’s?”

“Yeah, probably.” Sam said as he got up. “At least Dean will come to us now.”

You looked over at Sam with a questioning look. “And why do you say that?”

“You heard the other Sam. He told little John to call his father and knowing Dean, he’ll head straight back here to check on his family.” Sam explained as he began looking around for a good stakeout spot to wait for his brother to come. “Till he comes, we hide and wait.” He began walking to one of the neighbor’s house.

You followed after him, “Are we breaking into one of the neighbor’s house?”

“Just the side backyard.” He said as he hopped the neighbor’s fence.

Hopping the fence too, you joined Sam on the other side. He nudged you and pointed to two very convenient peepholes through the fence.

“And now we wait.” Sam announced.

Sam was right. About 30 minutes later Dean had shown up driving a truck. He parked it on the driveway of his house as he ran out and into the house.

“Soooo, is that our queue to go?” You asked looking over at Sam.

Sam seemed to be thinking about something before he spoke. “You go.”

“What? What about you?” You questioned, not liking how this plan was starting at all.

“I can’t. I’m already there, technically.” Sam answered as if it was the obvious answer.

You gave the younger Winchester a look asking if he was serious right now.

“Y/N, I’m serious. You should go, if you need to, play along with it.” Sam suggested.

You rolled your eyes, you knew exactly what Sam was implying. After seeing those kids, especially the little girl by the name of Mary, the odds of you being their mother was really high. Yet, you were still denying that idea. “Sam, little John said his parents went to the hospital and then only Dean came back. I can’t show up out of the blue and pretend to be…well you know. For all we know, the version of me here could be dying or dead already. Their mom could be someone else!”

Now it was Sam’s turn to give you a look asking if you were serious. “Y/N, you think Dean would really dream of you dead or dying? Maybe in a nightmare, but this definitely doesn’t seem like that.”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t like this plan. I’m not going by myself. End of story.”

Sam let out a sigh, knowing once you made your mind up on something there wasn’t changing it. And so he began to think of another plan.

While looking back through the peephole, an idea hit you as you stared at the truck. You turned around to face Sam. “I have an idea.” You grinned.

-

“Scoot over.” Sam whispered as he tried readjusting his body around to face you.

“Quit moving so much, we’ll get caught if you don’t stop.” You argued back in a whisper.

Sam huffed as silent as he could, “I can’t believe I went along with this.”

“Yeah, well better than your plan.” You commented.

The two of you made your way to the trunk of the truck. Luckily, Dean had a tarp covering the trunk which gave you both perfect cover as long as Sam stopped wiggling around. Your plan was to wait till Dean left the house again, leaving him alone, and then at some point, you both would pop out. It was a work in progress plan, honestly.

“How long do we have to wait?” Sam asked, still wiggling to get comfortable.

“Sam, come on. Dean will probably check around the house, salt the perimeter around the house, and then head back to the hospital where his wife is to check on her and make sure us, the monsters, aren’t there after her.” You explained.

Before Sam could get another word out, he froze as he heard Dean’s voice along with his own talking.

“I’m heading back to the hospital to check on her, make sure those shapeshifters didn’t go there.” Dean spoke as he opened the door to his truck with the sounds of throwing a bag in.

You and Sam were facing each other while hiding. You smirked at Dean’s comment, proving your theory was right on the spot. Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Alright, I’ve got John and Mary taken care of. Keep me updated on Y/N’s condition too.” The other Sam, Uncle Moose, shared.

Your eyes grew wide as Sam had the smirk on his face this time. The younger Winchester mouthed ‘told you so’. If you could, you would’ve wiped that stupid smirk off of Sam’s face. You were still in denial as you thought maybe you just happened to be in the same hospital where Dean took his wife too. That’s all.  

“Got it. Call me if they come back.” Dean responded as he got into the truck.

You and Sam felt the truck turn on as you felt it begin to move. Now, you had to decide the best time to show yourselves.

Luckily the drive was windy, so you and Sam were able to talk quietly. You had come to the conclusion that it was best to get out once Dean stopped as you didn’t want him to get into an accident.

When the car came to a stop, you and Sam both heard Dean bolt out of the truck. You threw the tarp cover off of you as you sat up and watched Dean quickly make his way into the hospital. Sam sat up next to you. “I guess we go in the hospital now.” The long-haired Winchester commented.

As both of you got out of the truck and entered the hospital, Sam decided to ask for where the Winchesters were as he shared he was the brother in law. He technically was. Once he was told the room, you both made your way towards it. After arriving on the second floor where the room was located on, you pulled Sam off to the side. “We need a plan. You know Dean probably set a trap if we, the monsters, tried to go after his wife.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But that would only mean some kind of silver and we’re not shapeshifters, so it won’t hurt us.” Sam mentioned.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t attack first and ask questions later. And I’d rather not get a physical beating from him.” You looked up at Sam as he realized you were right about Dean.

“So what do we do?” Sam asked.

If you knew Dean like you thought you did, family was his weakness and there was currently only one family member in this hospital that counted. His wife. You let out a breath, knowing that you would sound crazy for even suggesting what you were thinking. “We use his wife against him.”

Sam frowned at the idea, but he knew you were right. Dean’s one weakness would always be his family. And if they wanted to avoid a confrontation and get to talk with him, threatening the life of one of his family members would be the way.

The plan would be for Sam to get Dean’s attention and away from his wife, then Y/N would sneak into the room and hold his wife hostage. Then Sam would need a way to get him back to the room, preferably not getting caught.

As the plan went into motion, Dean did end up following after Sam. Once he ran out of the room, you snuck your way into the room that held Mrs. Winchester. A part of you felt anxious as this was the moment you’d finally get to meet Dean’s dream wife.

Deep inside, you knew. Everything pointed to what you knew. You didn’t want to believe it though. As you stepped closer to the woman in question, your eyes widened, but not surprised. It was you. A more soccer mom looking you, but it was you nonetheless.

As you stepped closer to take a better look at yourself, you noticed all the wires connected to your vitals. The dream version of you was passed out and the scariest thing about your dream self’s appearance was that you had a breathing tube going into your mouth. Something had happened to this dream version of yourself. And here you thought this wasn’t supposed to be a nightmare?

Many questions flew into your mind. How did you two get together in this dream? Did you guys set aside hunting to raise a family? What was the wedding like?

Lost in questions, the bang of the door opening brought you out of your thoughts. It was Dean. He looked surprised at first till he remembered about the shapeshifters his dream brother told him about that came in contact with his dream kids…and now his dream wife.

You quickly took action as you made your way near the breathing tube’s computer. Your hand hovered over a big red button, which you assumed would turn off the breathing tube.

Dean kept his gun aimed at you, “Get away from her!”

“Dean, please don’t make me kill myself. I just need you to listen.” You pleaded as you brought your hand closer to the red button.

Dean's eyes widened as he glanced at his wife then back at you and where you stood, confirming that this red button was definitely important.

Sam appeared at the door as Dean turned to face the gun towards him.

“Hey! He’s not the one with his hand over the button to turn the machine keeping your wife alive.” You yelled at Dean.

Dean turned back to face you, the gun aiming at you now.

Sam had walked into the room and closed the door behind him. “We just want to talk Dean. That’s all.” The long-haired hunter shared with his hands in the air.

At first, Dean couldn’t decide who to point the gun at. As Sam stayed standing by the door unmoving, the older Winchester turned his attention to you. “Alright, talk. Just please, don’t press that button.” He said as he lowered his gun.

You looked over at Sam who nodded at you and then looked at the other you in the hospital bed, confirming what he had thought all along. You took your hand away from the red button but still stood by it. You had no intention of killing your dream self, but Dean didn’t know that.

“Dean, this isn’t real.” You started. “That’s not me. I’m me. And that’s the real Sam, not that other guy back at your non-existing house.”

Dean scoffed, “I know what’s real. And this is.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t you remember we were hunting a djinn?” Sam stepped in.

“I haven’t hunted anything in a long time until you two shapeshifters showed up impersonating my family.” Dean answered.

“This is a dream, Dean. You’re still under the djinn’s influence because you want to be.” Sam tried reasoning.  

As if remember something, Dean shook his head. “No, if we were hunting a djinn, then she wouldn’t be here.” He looked over at you. “I made sure of that before.” His eyes locked onto yours.

You could see regret in his eyes as you stared back at him. You didn’t know what to say because it was true. He knew what he said would cause you to leave and he had just confirmed his intention of that night.

“Y/N, say something.” Sam urged you to speak.

What would you even say? You knew Dean wouldn’t accept a silly answer that you came to help him, even with the idea of his brother pleading.

“See. She’s got nothing to say because she would never come back. Not after what I said.” Dean shook his head, looking down.

Sam had never wanted to pry, but maybe now was the time, “What did you say to her, Dean?”

“It was my fault they’re dead. And eventually I’ll get you two killed too.” You spoke softly. Those weren’t the exact words, but Sam got the idea of how they were thrown at her.

“Y/N, you know he didn’t mean it. He cares about you! Tell her, Dean!” Sam yelled at his brother.

Dean avoided looking at you as he didn’t answer Sam.

“It’s okay Sam. He was right. I got my family killed the night they died. If I hadn’t snuck out to meet with a stupid boy, they all could’ve been alive now. It was my fault the salt line got broken. And eventually I’ll mess up some salt line that’ll get you two killed too.” You shared as you looked over at your dream self.

Dean finally looked over at you, hearing you say out loud that you blamed yourself crushed him. He wanted to disagree with you, tell you he never meant any of it. It wasn’t your fault that your father had never explained the significance of a salt line back then. He knew your father was doing what his mother Mary wanted to do with them, keep you out of the hunting life. And that’s what he wanted for you too. He had been falling hard for you and he knew all good things eventually came to end and you’d somehow end up dead. So he did what he did best, push you away and make you leave them…him.

What you did next, after speaking, surprised both Dean and Sam. You had pressed the red button as the machine slowly started shutting down. “I won’t be the reason you die, Dean. Not this time.”

Dean ran over to your dream version. “No!” He yelled.

You continued your little speech, “If you want this life, then fight for it dammit. Don’t push me away. Yeah, your words hurt like hell because it was coming from someone I trusted to not turn their back on me and whom I cared for deeply, hell maybe even love. But I know that when my times comes, my family, specifically my father would kick my ass if I didn’t try to live my life, hunting or not.”

Dean managed to look over at you as the surroundings began shaking. His dream world was falling apart as the dream version of you was slowly dying.

Sam was shaking with the ground as he tried to keep himself steady.

“It’s true that I could be the reason that gets you killed, but it won’t be like this, as a stupid dream version. And I’d go into hell, heaven, purgatory and any other place to bring you back if I got you killed. So wake up Dean! I forgive you, you jerk!” You yelled at him as you felt tears run down your face.

Dean had made his way to you as he stood before you. “Y/N…” He called out.

You looked up, wiping the tears as you saw him smile before a white light consumed everything.

-

When you woke up, you found yourself back in the motel bed in California. You turned to look at the time that read 10:36am. You were confused as to how you got back here and what the hell happened. Your phone began to ring on the nightstand next to you. Grabbing it without looking at the caller ID, you placed the phone by your ear. “Hello?”

“Y/N?…” The deep voice sighed in relief on the other end of the line.

“Dean? You’re awake! I don’t understand. How am I back in my motel room from this morning?” You asked very confusedly.

“I asked Cas to bring you back after, as a precaution. And to let you sleep a bit longer. Sammy told me he woke you up from your beauty sleep.” Dean answered as she sensed a small smile from his side.

“Thanks? So what kind of precaution were you taking exactly?” You questioned.

There was a small moment of silence before Dean answered you. “Just in case you were still upset with me.”

“Well tell that pretty blue-eyed angel to bring me back to the bunker. I think I’m owed a big thank you in person for saving your life.” You commented with a smile, implying that he had nothing to worry about.

Dean chuckled on the other end of the line, “One pretty blue-eyed angel on the way. I’ll see you in a bit.” And then he hung up.

Again, the moment the Winchester hung up, Castiel appeared in your room. You gathered your belongings again, which were still packed from this morning and then you were zapped back in the bunker. Dean and Sam were waiting for you in the library.

Sam was the first to make his way over to you, enveloping you into a big bear hug. “Thank you.” He murmured into your hair as he squeezed a bit tight. You returned the hug before pulling away and smiling at him. “I’ve always got your back, even if I may be mad at your stupid brother.” You grinned as he returned the smile.

“I’d say go easy on him, but most of the time, he needs that beat up to realize what he has.” Sam shared before he walked over to Cas, placing a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “We’ll be in the kitchen, figuring out dinner.” Cas had his usual confused look at what was happening but followed after Sam anyways.

Once the angel and younger Winchester left the room, you looked over at the trouble maker. “So...”

“Thank you.” Dean expressed as he looked at you. He rubbed the back of his neck as he prepared for what he would say next. “That night…I didn’t mean it.”

You stood in silence as you waited to see if he would say more.

“What happened to your family was not your fault. You didn’t know any better then. And I was an asshole for saying that to you after you trusted me by telling me what happened. I know their deaths carry a weight on your shoulders, but it’s good to know it’s not as heavy as I thought. And I would never blame you for mine or Sammy’s death. I already know that if you’re the reason we died, it’s because we were trying to save you and I could live with that. You’re important to both of us, to me. Anyway, I could go on forever explaining how what I said was wrong in every way and how sorry I am, but I’d rather get to the more important topic.” Dean took a step towards you.

“The more important topic?” You questioned as you watched him come closer.

He held his hand out and opened it, revealing a key. “Come back to the bunker. This has always been your home if you want it. I want my best friend back and Sam would love to have his research partner back. Let’s be honest, you’re better in that department than I am.” He gently smiled at you. He was anxious a bit waiting for your answer.

You took a moment to think about it. A part of you thought back to everything that happened in the dream world, what Cas has shared with you beforehand, and how deep down, you missed this place, the brothers, and especially a place you could call home. You were about to reach out and take the key from his hand but paused for a moment. The memory of Dean’s wife in the dream making you a bit more interested in another topic between the two of you. “You only want a best friend back? Nothing more?” You asked with mischievous smile.

Dean returned the smile, “Yeah, let’s start with best friends first and then we’ll make our way to being Mr. and Mrs. Winchester. I’d like to take you out on an actual date first and spoil you to make up for hurting you.”

You smiled genuinely at him, shaking your head at his confidence. You didn’t haven’t anything against what he said though. “Alright, I can deal with that…for now.” And then you picked up the key from his hand.

“Really? Only back to best friend’s status?” A familiar long-haired Winchester’s voice interrupted. Two faces popped up from around the hallway corner. “At this rate, I’ll get married to her first. And I don’t mind that at all.” Sam joked as Dean had turned his attention to his brother and then started walking after him saying there was no way that was happening because you were his girl. As Dean left to playfully chase after Sam to make him take back what he said, Castiel came by your side.

“Welcome back, Y/N.” The angel greeted with a smile, knowing that the atmosphere around the bunker would be improving now.

You chuckled as you could hear Dean and Sam yelling at each other in the hallway like kids. “Thanks. I’m glad to be back. I’ll tell ya, that was one hell of a dream.”

Author’s Note: Hope y’all enjoyed reading! Feedback welcome! <3

[vintagevalentinex]

Valentine

I had this idea for a Castiel/Reader story in my head, and I’ll probably reblog it on Valentine’s Day, but I couldn’t help but post it now.  Special shout out to @icecream-and-winchesters for letting me pick her brain!  This is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff.

@icecream-and-winchesters @crazykins123 @theerinpage @bovaria @abaddonwithyall @ohfora67impala @bkwrm523 @maraisabellegrey @kittenofdoomage @spnfanficpond @aprofoundbondwithdean @castielspahdehrah  @stephizzle94

Title: Valentine Author: vintagevalentinexx Words: ~2800 Pairing: (Castiel x Reader) Warnings: Major FLUFF.

It was that time of year again.  

Being a hunter always made relationships particularly difficult.  The thought of being single and alone was just another part of “the job.”  The hunter life wasn’t typically one you shared with another person and you were quite content with that.  You had made your peace with it a long time ago.

That is, until those tall buffoons stumbled into your life.

You could remember it clearly.  It was a couple of years ago and you were trying to hustle your way through a couple games of pool to get some quick cash.  You saw them as they entered the bar.  They were tall and built strong.  They looked so sure of themselves as they walked over to the bar, ordering as they scanned the room.  You smiled to yourself, thinking they would make two easy marks for some quick cash, with the added bonus of them being easy on the eyes.

After two games of pool (one won by you, the other won by the one with the green eyes), you were starting to realize that maybe these boys were better than you had pegged them to be. I will not be out hustled.  You flashed them a smile, leaning over the pool table, your grin growing wider when you noticed the one with the green eyes couldn’t stop looking at your cleavage.

“So what are your names anyway?  It would be nice to know the names of the guys whose money I’m going to win…”

The man with the green eyes and the other one who was ridiculously tall shared a look, turning their gaze back to you, smirking.  The taller man spoke first.

“Winchester.  I’m Sam, he’s Dean.”  He jerked his head toward his brother.

You gasped in recognition, throwing your pool stick onto the table.  Rolling your eyes you spoke.  “Hunters.  Damn it, I should have known.  I guess we should just call it even then?”

They broke out into laughter and offered you a drink.

You quickly learned how amazing the Winchesters were, however, for you at least, they paled in comparison to the angel of the Lord with the blue eyes. You had tagged along on a simple salt and burn with the brothers (you quickly learned that nothing was simple when it came to the both of them).  It had turned out to be a full on demon swarm that was nearly overpowering the three of you.  You had been knocked onto your ass, flinching for the impact of a blow when you saw an almost blinding light, having to shield your eyes from the intensity.  When you were finally able to open your eyes, you were met with her most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen.  

The moment was ruined when you could hear Sam and Dean screaming for you, breathing a sigh of relief when their gaze fell upon the blue-eyed stranger.

“Cas!  It’s about damn time you got here!  (Y/N) looks like hell!  Fix her up, would ya?”  Dean grumbled.

Cas.  Cas is his name?  How did he get here?  How did he know to get here?

You looked up at “Cas,” his lips quirking into a ghost of a smile as he knelt down to be eye level with you.

“Hello, (Y/N).”

“……umm, hi….”

“I am Castiel.  I am an angel of the Lord.  You can call me ‘Cas.’  That is the name that Sam and Dean have chosen to call me…”

“…ummm okay.”  You cough, your hand covering your mouth.  As you move your hand away from your mouth, you can see that you’ve coughed up some blood.  You let out a bitter snigger.  “I guess that demon got me better than I thought…”

You made to move up when Cas put a hand on your shoulder, keeping you still.  With his other hand he pressed two fingers to your forehead, all of the pain and the aches soothed away with a single touch.  You felt nothing but warmth as your eyes found the blue ones again, feeling the heat coming to your cheeks as Cas helped you to your feet.

“Thank you, Castiel.”

“It is no trouble, (Y/N).”

“Alright lovebirds, stop making goo goo eyes at each other.  Can we go now?”

Dean continued to groan as you felt your cheeks heat up even more, red from your ears to your neck as you stormed out of the abandoned warehouse, shoving past Sam and Dean, who wore matching smirks.  Cas looked on, concerned and curious.

“Dean, is she well?  Does she perhaps have a fever?”

“Nah, man.  She’s got somethin’ else pretty bad though…”  Dean laughed, sharing a knowing look with Sam.

“Should I follow after her?  Perhaps I didn’t heal her completely.”

“It’s something you can’t heal, buddy.”

As you stomped towards the Impala, you couldn’t get those words out of your mind.  It was no trouble.  You smiled a little to yourself as you slid into the backseat of the car.  You didn’t know it at the time, but those four words would become the most beautiful arrangement of letters you’d ever heard.

Cas became more and more of a facet in your life, always seemingly being there whenever you needed help or company.  His visits with the Winchesters became more frequent and seemingly unnecessary.  Dean was starting to get really confused.

Cas why are you here? I thought you called for me. No, man…

Cas…didn’t you just leave like 15 minutes ago? I thought you could use some assistance. With eating? Yes.

Cas…seriously… I am sorry, Dean…I thought that I heard you faintly praying to me… While I’m sitting on the god damn toilet? In retrospect, that seems to have been a mistake…

Dean shuffled into the library in one of the dead man’s robes, finally drinking coffee.  That was definitely not the way he wanted to be woken up on a Monday morning.  Or at all for that matter.  Cas was getting weirder and weirder and damn it if he wasn’t going to find out why.  He rolled his eyes as he saw Cas sitting in the library with Sam, trying to figure something out in the lore.

“Damn it Cas, what has been your problem lately?  You seem real squirrely…”

“I do not know what you are talking about, Dean…and I also do not understand how I could ever resemble a rodent such as a squirrel…”

Dean rolled his eyes, taking another needed swig of coffee.  It was going to be a long day. “Cas…I’m not even going to start with why that makes no sense but—“

“Morning guys!” You called out. You felt quite chipper this morning.  You were getting some of the best sleep you’ve ever had in probably…ever.  You scanned the room, seeing Sam hard at work already, Dean grumping about like he usually did in the morning, and…oh.

“Good morning Cas!”

“Good morning, (Y/N).  I take it you slept well…”

Dean snaps his head to look at the exchange between the both of you with a smug, shit-eating grin on his face.  I get it now…

Loud yelling brings you out of your daydreaming.  You weren’t really excited for today.  You were hoping that the day would go quickly, and that you wouldn’t see any lovey dovey couples, but you knew that your thoughts were futile.

It was Valentine’s Day.

Normally, this wouldn’t bother you at all, but since the appearance of the blue eyed angel, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts constantly drift to him.  From the moment you met him you knew that he was righteous and brave, but over the weeks and months you began to realize how so inherently good he was.  He was a loyal friend, almost to a fault, and would do anything to make sure the ones he cared about were safe.  And at times that included you.  He had saved you a few times over the months and you were infinitely thankful for him in your life.  When Sam and Dean told you more about how Cas basically sacrificed everything he ever knew and cared about in heaven to protect the people on Earth, it blew you away; his selflessness continuing to amaze you.  He was a good man…er…angel…and you hoped someday that you could have someone in your life that could be even a fraction as good as he was.

You sighed heavily, dragging the Chinese food you picked up while the boys continued their research in the motel room you were sharing for the job you were on.  You quirked an eyebrow as you listened in on the yelling that was occurring on the other side of the door.

“Cas…what the hell is in the cooler?!”

"Well Dean, you told me to give (Y/N) a heart for Valentine’s Day…”

You nearly gapsed.  Cas wanted to give you something for Valentine’s Day?  Maybe he didn’t know what it meant to be someone’s Valentine…

“Cas I swear if there is an actual heart in there…”

“You don’t need to swear; there is a heart in the cooler…I wasn’t sure what kind of heart to get…you didn’t say.  I thought it would be most appropriate to get a human heart because well…(Y/N)’s a human…”

You face palmed, holding back a torrent of giggles and you could nearly feel Dean getting more and more frustrated.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!  Where did you get a freaking human heart, Cas?!  Are you kidding right now!?”

“I thought it was customary—“

“Oh just wait ‘till Sam gets back.  This is great.  Just great, man.”

“Dean, I—“

“Man…seriously…get rid of it.  She’s not gonna want it.”

“Are you positive?”

“Am I—just GET RID OF IT CAS!”

You figured this was probably a good time to announce your presence.  You called through the door.  “Hey guys!  Mind helping me open the door?  My arms are full!”

You heard the flutter of wings and a rush of air as you turned around, Cas standing way too close as your cheeks heated up.  He smiled sheepishly at you as he helped unburden your arms, the door swinging open to reveal a smug looking Dean.  

“You know, Cas…the door works just as fine…”

“Yes…yes Dean.  I will make sure to remember that next time…”

You smiled at him as you all piled back into the motel room.  You ate in an awkward silence, Cas watching both you and Dean eat your food.  The tension in the room was thick.  Dean finally stood up, grunting and rolling his eyes at the entire situation.

“Alright…well since this is such a happening place, I’m going to the bar…there’s probably some woman out there who’s lonely today…”

You scoffed.  “Real nice, Winchester…trying to hook up with lonely woman on Valentine’s Day.”

“Hey…at least I’ll be getting some…unlike you!”

Cas interjected.  “Dean, what do you mean, ‘getting some’?  What are you getting some of?”

Dean shook his head, laughing as he ducked out the door.  “Why don’t you fill him in, (Y/N)?”

The both of you sat there in silence for a few brief moments.  You shift, Cas’s attention on you now at the sudden noise.

“Do you mind if I hop in the shower?  It’s been a long day…you don’t have to leave or anything…I’ll just be in the bathroom…”

“Go right ahead, (Y/N)…though I do not understand why you wouldn’t just walk into the shower…but by all means hop right into it!”  He smiled, trying to ease the tension and awkwardness in the room.  You smiled and shook your head at him.  Bless him, he is trying.

“Alright then, I shouldn’t be too long!”

“It is no trouble, (Y/N).”

You grinned, loving when he uttered those words to you as you headed for the bathroom, letting the steam and the hot water soothe your sore muscles.

You stepped out of the shower, feeling new, as you threw your clothes back on.  You stepped back into the main room.

“Hey Cas, I was—“

But he was gone.

You shrugged, getting ready to break out the beer and turn on Netflix for the night when you noticed that you had a voicemail notification on your phone.  You put your phone to your ear, knowing it could be important, and listen to the message.

“Yes…yes I know this is (Y/N)’s phone, that is why I called it.  Yes, I would like to leave a message.  Why are you still talking to me?  This is not your phone!  (Y/N)!?  (Y/N)?!  If you are there please listen to me!  Go to the place where you bought the Chinese food.  It is of great importance.”

And with that the message ended.  Alarmed that something was wrong you swiped Dean’s keys, thankful that he was walking to the bar that night and sped down the road, breaking all kinds of motor vehicle laws as you raced back to the restaurant, ready to gank any creature that stood in your way.  When you finally parked the car, gun in hand, and ready to go, you noticed something flashy in the alleyway.  You stalked quietly and swiftly, ready to strike when you noticed a simple red dress hanging on a hanger on a fire escape.  It had a note pinned to it.

I apologize for making you think the worst, (Y/N), but I fear that this was the only way to get you here.  Please put this on, I’m nearly positive that it will fit, and I’m absolutely certain that it will look beautiful on you.  Please go to local record store and pick out the album that you told me reminded you of me.

You smiled, shaking your head.  You wanted to be mad, but this was way too sweet.  A scavenger hunt?  What was Cas up to?  Your shrugged into the dress (that did fit perfectly…you weren’t sure to be impressed or creeped out), still clad in your converse as you walked into the record store, remembering how you were telling Cas about the song that made you think of him.  Well, it has wings in it and well, you’re an angel so…

Chewing on your lip you entered the record store, searching up and down the aisles until you finally find what you’re looking for.  You pull the record up from its place and see a note taped to it.

I’m glad you found this.  I was so very touched when you played this song for me.  To know that you think of me when I am not near makes me feel things that I have never felt, (Y/N).  It makes me feel things that I didn’t know that I was even capable of feeling, things that I cannot put into words.  Look under the shelf, and put those on.  Go back to the motel room.

Your face flushes as you read the note, ducking down to find a box of beautiful shoes.  You slip them on as you drive back over to the motel, your heart racing as you make yourself get out of the car.  As you walk to the door, your hand shakily makes its way to the knob, hearing the faint sound of music on the other side.  Twisting the knob and pushing the door open, you are greeted by a trenchcoat-less Castiel, still dressed in his suit.  He stands in the middle of the room nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, twirling a single sunflower between his fingers.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, (Y/N).”

You blushed as bright as your dress, gently closing the door behind you.  You nervously walked closer to him as he offered you the flower.  You smiled down at it.

“Thank you Cas, I love sunflowers.”

“They remind me of you.  They are warm and bright.  They remind me of sunshine.  They remind me of your smile.  Though a flower cannot really do you any justice.”

Stepping closer to him, you bashfully looked away.

“I wish I had something to give you, Cas.”

He stepped forward, pulling you in close to himself as he swayed your bodies to the faint music in the background.

“This is all I could ever ask for, (Y/N).  I am not exactly 100% sure on this human custom, but I do believe I must ask you a question.”

“Sure thing, Cas.  What is it?”

He smiled down at you.  “Will you be my Valentine?”

You grinned, nearly giggling, feeling like a schoolgirl as he continued to sway the both of you to the music.

“It is no trouble, Castiel.”

He shared your grin, dancing with you until the wee hours of the morning, the both of you peppering each other’s faces with sweet, tender kisses.

[tibbinswrites]

How about Dean/Cas #33. Canon or AU. All is good to me. 🙂

Hiii!!!! Thank you so much for your request! So this one has taken me so long and it’s not super on topic with the prompt. I had a plan but got very distracted and this happened instead. Hope you like it ^_^

I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #33, #77, #78, #170 and #502

I also have 2 prompts waiting for: #20 and an addition to #170 and after I’ve done these I will be closing prompts for a little while. Sorry! I’ve joined up for a Big Bang which I’m super excited about and I’ve never done before so I really need to turn my focus to that at the moment.

ANYWAY! On with the fic!

Prompt #33. Tomorrow

In this life there was never a guarantee that you would get anything more than what you had right now. There was also never a guarantee that you wouldn’t lose what little you had. This was a lesson that Dean had learned too many times to count. Could it be counted as loss if your hold on it was tenuous at best? What about a dream? A wish? A distant maybe? Those were never certain, he’d never had them, so why, when they were on the brink of vanishing forever, did it feel like grief?

Watching Cas leave had felt like that. The anger gloated in his gut while the rest of him mourned. He hated that the one constant in his life now was his rage. It hadn’t always been this way; back when hunting had been enough for him, before John had died. That was then the anger had really come into its own, he thought; solidified from all the disappointment and potential for closure that would now never come. He might have been able to say a final goodbye to his father the previous year, but there had been so much still left unsaid between them and Dean hadn’t decided if the John that had appeared had even been the John he knew, or just something conjured as part of the wish. Questioning the reality of things in Dean’s life was ‘in’ at the moment.

He was working on it, he was. In between Purgatory and worrying about Jack and looking for ways to kill God and meeting his alternate self he was working on self-improvement. He’d apologised to Cas and that had worked out. He was trying to joke with the guy more, make him laugh, or at least ease the worried crease between his eyes a little. It hadn’t worked so far.

But now, Jack was sobbing at the kitchen table, apologising over and over for every slight he’d ever made. He had his soul back. And Cas and Sam were gathered around him, forgiving him each time he mumbled a ‘sorry’. Dean went to fill a glass of water and placed it in front of the kid before stepping back. Sam rubbed Jack’s back soothingly while Cas kept up a stream of affirmations and comfort but Dean could only watch. He’d been working on his anger, but the wound of what had happened to Mary Winchester was still raw, tangled up in a bunch of other feelings like the mess that was their phone charger station. Dean wasn’t sure he’d forgiven Jack yet, but seeing how sorry he was… well… that helped.

Jack had looked up at him a few times, blue eyes wet and shiny with remorse as though he wanted Dean to say something. Dean knew that he should, he knew that he should swallow his pride, kneel down to eye-level and tell Jack that he still cared about him, that he was still family. But he knew that wasn’t what Jack wanted to hear and it would eat him up to mutter a forgiveness he didn’t feel, even if it might be the only thing that Jack really wanted to hear.

Cas sent him a couple of pointed glares, but he retreated instead, leaving Cas and Sam to calm the kid down. Sure, the first few hours of having his soul back would be messy, but once he adjusted to having feelings again he’d be okay, or at least as okay as the rest of them were. Besides, Sam was the one with first-hand experience of losing and re-gaining your soul, he was the best person to be in there right now. Dean just awkwardly standing around wouldn’t make any of them feel better.

Xxx

It was a few hours later that Cas came to find him.

“He’s still very upset,” he said by way of a greeting when he walked into the garage. His voice was hard, almost accusatory. Dean didn’t turn around. “We could have used you there.”

“I’m not exactly good at that whole… area of things, Cas. I’m sure you and Sam did a better job than I could have.”

“It’s you that Jack needs forgiveness from,” Cas fired back. “And more than forgiveness he needs reassurance that you don’t hate him. You disappearing doesn’t exactly alleviate that fear.”

“I don’t hate him.” Dean said, uncomfortable. He was working on Baby, nothing major, just inspecting every inch of her to make sure his and Sam’s alternate selves hadn’t done any damage. They hadn’t, but the work got his hands greasy and kept his mind calm and that was all he needed right now. Meeting himself from that other world had thrown him, probably more than it should. Thinking about it now, maybe sending them off to Brazil hadn’t been the best plan. They weren’t exactly done defying God, having a couple of decoys could come in handy, and if they were loaded enough to afford a private jet, two sets of pilots, top-shelf scotch and whatever the hell they’d been wearing they couldn’t be completely useless as hunters. The other John Winchester might have spoiled them (and if that thought didn’t just sit in his stomach like sour milk), but if he’d started HunterCorp and it had gone international, they had to have done a decent job of proving themselves, because he was pretty sure that any John Winchester in any world still had to be a ball-busting hard-ass when it came to hunting. Plus, they were still alive.

Then again, they couldn’t exactly stay here. If Chuck did come to check up on them then their usefulness as stand-ins was blown. Plus… it would just be weird. There had been a strange mix of relief and jealousy when they had talked about their life back on other-Earth, a bit of longing for that kind of ease and lightness that he knew he’d lost years ago, but then again, they had come through the rift alone, no Cas, no Jack, no family, and despite their toasts to their father, the grief there had been perfunctory at best. Their whole world was gone and they had barely seemed to care. So their lives might have been shinier and easier, but at least his life was full.

“Maybe you should tell him that.” Cas grumbled with all the heaviness of a parent who had been trying to comfort their child for the past several hours. Then, in a tone much sharper, “and I’m not an idiot.”

Dean turned. Cas was glaring at him, which Dean wasn’t exactly surprised at, but the glare contained something else too, a spark of real fury, not the watered-down version Cas more often than not used.

Dean folded his arms. “On this particular day, you were.” He insisted, folding his oil-streaked arms across his chest. “Going to the Empty, Cas? Really?”

“Oh, like going to Hell was a better plan.”

“Me and Sam didn’t have to die to get there!” Dean heard his voice get louder with each syllable.

“I didn’t—” Cas began.

“Almost is too damn close,” Dean interrupted. Dropping his arms where his hands balled into fists.

“Well my plan is the one that worked.” Cas said. Dean watched as his shoulders pulled back, Cas was gearing up for a big fight. Well fine, if this was the hill Cas wanted to die on, that was just fine with him, ’cause this time he was right, dammit. “You and Sam walked right into Jo’s trap while I got the location of the occultum.”

“You think this is about results?” Dean asked, his voice deadly quiet now. “You think I give a crap that it worked?”

Cas frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Dean let out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “You really are an idiot.”

“Stop calling me that!” Cas advanced on him, blue fire in his eyes. “I was the leader of a garrison of angels. That means I was the best. And I got there because I am an expert strategist. I understand how wars are fought and won. I saw the flaws in Jo’s story when you didn’t and I took steps to make sure that your mistake didn’t cost us the occultum and ultimately gave us a fighting chance in this war. I procured the thing that returned our son’s soul and still you call me stupid, you belittle me, you refuse to respect my choices. Why do you insist on trying to make me smaller than I am?”

“Why do you insist on trying to leave me every damn chance you get?!” Dean shouted back, though Cas’ words had hurt. Not least because they were true, or at least, they would certainly seem to be true, if you didn’t have access to the inner workings of Dean’s head. “Did your great intelligence factor in what would have happened to us if you hadn’t made it back, what would have happened to me? You keep doing this. You keep throwing yourself away as though you’re some kind of red-shirt. So yeah, you’re an idiot. Because you might be smart and you might be an expert in strategy and you might be the size of the goddamn Chrysler Building but one thing you’re not is disposable. And I don’t care that you were right. I don’t care that your plan worked. I don’t care that we got the occultum because of your hunch. All I care about is that you died today, and you seem to think that that’s an acceptable risk.”

“It is,” came Cas’ immediate response, though his tone and his eyes had softened a little during Dean’s tirade. “Dean, the world is at stake here. Of course I will give my life for it.”

“You don’t have to be so freaking eager.”

“I don’t have a part in Death’s plan,” Cas said, as argumentative and stubborn as ever, despite the bitterness in his words. “Just as I didn’t have a part in God’s plan. You, Sam and Jack are the ones who will get this done. But I will not just stand back and let you fight it for me. This is my fight too!”

“So fight,” Dean said, stepping forward so he and Cas were almost chest-to-chest. “Don’t give up. Don’t go diving headfirst into the Empty without a proper plan that we all agree on. It’s because Billie hasn’t factored you in that I am terrified, Cas. I can’t lose you again, I can’t do it. I barely made it through last time. Hell, technically it’s only because of Billie and her plan that I lived to see you again. But if she says that you don’t have a part, screw her. You’re with us. You’re with me. To the end of this thing and not a moment before.”

He was so close. Cas’ eyes mere inches from his own, his tongue darted out to wet his lips and Cas looked down to track the movement. And it was then that Dean knew, knew what he had been so scared to know all along: that feeling in his chest when he looked at Cas, the glow that drew him in, he knew in that moment that Cas felt it too. And it suddenly didn’t matter that they were fighting, it didn’t matter that Dean had all kinds of issues about his being into guys thing. It didn’t matter because Cas didn’t care, and Cas cared about the important stuff. So he leaned closer, his eyes slipping closed as he did so. Because tomorrow would bring with it more problems, more plans, more arguments; because Cas was brilliant, he was smart, he was resourceful, he would do what he thought was right whether Dean approved or not. He was fierce and so, so soft and he was right there.

He felt a hand on his chest and he blinked. Cas’ face was right next to his, something painful but determined in his expression.

“Not a moment before.” He whispered against Dean’s lips before he took a step back.

And if those words held an extra significance, Dean couldn’t fathom it, but they were an apology and a promise rolled into one, and they were more than Dean deserved at the best of times. He nodded an apology of his own and reached up to trace the line of Cas’ cheekbone. Cas leaned slightly into the touch.

“We’ll talk?” Dean asked. Because Cas was a sneaky bastard and he was hiding something, something that he wasn’t quite ready to say just now.”

Cas sighed heavily and nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

[alj4890]

And Then I Met You

Part 23

What happens when the one you thought you were meant for turns out to be meant for someone else?

A\N Choices Fan Fiction with characters from The Royal Romance, Red Carpet Diaries, and Perfect Match.

*Sorry for being so late in between posts. Health problems keep cropping up for both me and my family.*

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @hopefulmoonobject   @krsnlove   @annekebbphotography  @cora-nova @bella-ca  @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @ab1901 @lolablackwrites @flyawayboo @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ . @trappedinfandoms​

Masterlist

Part 23

"Lord Tariq and I were discussing that very thing last night over dinner." Lauren explained. "We both hope that Prince Liam is thinking of who is truly best for the citizens of Cordonia."

Ana and the rest of the reporters continued to throw questions out to her.

"Is it true you are no longer a part of The Earl's Undoing?"

"Yes, it is." She answered with a smile. "Once I met Lord Tariq, my heart was too focused on him rather than acting. I hope my fans can forgive me for following my heart."

"How has this affected your relationship with Thomas Hunt?" Ana asked.

Lauren laughed and shook her head. "Thomas and I only had a professional, working relationship. All those rumors about us spending every moment together are ridiculous. He is a happily married man and I would never try to tempt him away from Lady Amanda. There is only one man that I have had any type of love for and that is Lord Tariq. I would like to think that like Thomas, I too have managed to capture the heart of a Cordonian.

One of the younger reporters scratched his head. "Wait a minute, Ms. Benefield. Weren't you the one that called us with offers of sharing what you and his grace had privately together?"

Her smile became brittle while trying not to scream at the man. "You're mistaken. I only called to talk about our upcoming film. I would never slander someone like Lord and Lady Hunt."

"But--" he stared at Ana when she elbowed him. The seasoned reporter shook her head and continued to question Lauren about Tariq.

"Are we going to hear details about a possible wedding soon?"

Lauren's smile brightened. "I believe we will all be pleasantly surprised."

_______________

"I would love to knock those perfectly capped teeth out of her mouth." Nadia clinched her fist.

"Babe, you're going ultra violent again." Maxwell warned.

Riley and Hana stood with them and quietly observed Tariq join Lauren to answer more questions.

"Where are Thomas and Amanda?" Hana asked once she checked no one was close enough to overhear her.

"Er...well..." Maxwell stuttered.

"While scouting out locations to film, they decided to spend some special couple time alone. With all the Lauren mess, they needed a moment to remind them of what they have." Nadia promptly answered. She ignored the look Maxwell gave her for bending the truth.

"Oh." Riley turned as nobles were called toward the hedge maze of Applewood. "I guess we won't see them until we travel to St. Orella in a few days."

Maxwell's eyes widened. "Yeah. We won't." Once the ladies walked away, he grabbed his wife. "Nadia, Amanda is supposed to host the court next!"

Her anger disappeared as worry set in. "We have to find Olivia." She pressed a reassuring kiss to his cheek. "Call Holly and tell her to get Hudson on preparing for everyone's arrival."

_____________

Nadia burst into Olivia's room without knocking and locked the door. "You have to bring them back!" She exclaimed.

"You're interrupting me doing that very thing." Olivia motioned for her to be quiet. "Harris, it's time to retrieve our guests." She ignored Nadia mouthing her worry. "Yes. The vial is in the--" She covered her mouth and whispered it into the phone. "Use the same amount as last time. That should make it easier on you and the others and give me an opportunity to make it home before they wake up."

"There." Olivia ended the call. "They will be back tomorrow."

"I can't believe it has taken almost two months for this." Nadia flopped on Olivia's bed. "I wasn't meant for a life of subterfuge."

"Clearly." Olivia wrinkled her nose as a thought occured. "You have done better than I expected."

Nadia grinned at her. "Really? You think so?"

"Amazingly, I do." Olivia wondered how her original opinions of Nadia had turned to viewing her now as a comrade of sorts. To be impressed with her loyalty to their shared group of friends was unexpected. "Thank you...for helping with this."

Nadia surprised her with a swift unwanted hug. "Of course! I would do anything for my friends." She hurried out with a promise that they would all go with her to help explain.

_______________

That same day in St Orella...

"We have to go!" Holly interrupted the ballroom scene's dress rehearsal. "Olivia is bringing Thomas and Amanda back."

"Is this a have to go leave the country and create new identities trip or a go to Lythikos and explain why we were all a part of this venture?" Ryan asked.

Chris blanched at the possible outrage that awaited them. "I vote first option."

"Come on guys." Addison put her hands on her hips. "Once Thomas sees how we fixed everything, he will be thrilled that we--"

"Had him and the only person he loves drugged, kidnapped, and left stranded in a frozen wilderness with no explanation." Holly finished while sinking weakly down in a chair. "How are we going to be able to explain this? We should run away."

Addison turned toward Jessica and Matt. "Any chance you want to go in our place?"

"No thanks." Jessica said with a nervous laugh. "I prefer being alive."

"I think Thomas will kill the messenger in this particular case." Matt groaned when Addison appeared hurt, as if he had betrayed her. "I will come along as moral support if you want."

Holly read through the text messages she was still receiving. "Drake said Liam is going to be able to come too. He has made some type of excuse to travel early to St Orella."

Addison turned around quickly. "We get to see him again! I feel so much better knowing Liam will be there. He is perfect at keeping everyone calm and, well, pretty much everything else." She sighed at the memory of dancing with him and every other encounter.

Matt narrowed his eyes at Addison's sudden happiness over the prince going too and noticed Jessica watching him closely. He coughed and excused himself before anyone else noticed his jealousy.

"When do we leave to face our imminent doom?" Ryan asked.

"In one hour." Holly announced.

________________

The cabin? Late at night...

"...and because I met you, I am stuck in this godforsaken cabin! My reputation as a successful director that is closely associated with my time management skills is deteriorating by the moment due to your friend leaving us out here!" Thomas gripped the mantle and lowered his head after his outburst.

Amanda remained eerily silent. The only sign she had heard any of his tirade was the undiluted rage sparking her hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that." Thomas turned to look at her. "I don't regret meeting nor marrying you. I am--" his eyes widened at her disappearance.

The front door was open. It bounced against the wall each time an freezing burst of snow sprinkled wind blew in. He stepped outside in the dark and called his wife's name. Icicles hanging from the eaves shimmered in the faint light coming from inside.

No answer.

"Amanda!" He called out peering into the icy void that seemed impenetrable to light. "I'm sorry, please--"

Thomas gasped in pain and looked down. The sharp tip of an icicle was protruding from his chest. It was yanked out and a burst of blood came from his mouth. He turned slowly to look at the one who stabbed him in the back. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"You are nowhere near as sorry as I am." Amanda said in a calm voice. She shoved him off the porch. He landed on his back with a soft thud in the snow. His blood began to pool around his body.

She knelt down and raised the icicle to stab him once more. He weakly grasped her wrist.

"Why?" He managed to choke out.

Amanda leaned down close to his face. Snowflakes began to fall around them. Her lips curved into a bitter smile.

"Because you ruined my life with your decisions and now this incessant complaining!" She screeched before stabbing him through the heart.

Thomas jerked awake and touched his chest. His breaths came in short bursts while he reached for a lamp.

Amanda turned over. "What's wrong?" She mumbled, half asleep.

"You..." He took a deep breath. "Just a bad dream."

"I'm sorry." She pressed a kiss blindly to his cheek and snuggled down in the blankets. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No...I...you stabbed me." He frowned at the ceiling.

"I did?" She asked, yawning.

"With an icicle." He added.

Her eyes cracked open. "An icicle? How creative of me."

He softly snorted. "You said I ruined your life when I asked why you were killing me."

She placed her hand over his heart. "You know I don't think anything close to that, quite the opposite."

He turned on his side to face her. "I did in a way by casting Lauren."

Amanda groaned and flopped onto her back. "Thomas, we have been over this. You have to stop beating yourself up over that one decision."

"I know. I plan on doing all I can to make it up to you." He vowed.

"There is nothing to make up because we are fixing it!" She said in a surprisingly loud, commanding tone. "You apologized and are trying to think of a way to rid ourselves of her for good. The one thing you are doing to me that is unforgivable is interrupting my good dream about you. Now I'm tempted to find an icicle."

He choked on his laughter. "I'm sorry." He managed to say while thinking how much he adored her. "What can I do to stop that from happening?"

She slowly smiled and tugged him close. "I suggest you distract me from searching for the perfect murder weapon by finishing my dream." Their lips met as she pulled his shirt off.

_______________

Outside the cabin in the middle of the night...

"They are bound to be asleep by now." Harris whispered.

Williams crept to the door and used the tools he had brought along to pick the lock. He snuck quietly into the cabin. All was dark and silent, save for the dying fire crackling in the fireplace. He added the contents in the vial to both the coffee pot and the tea kettle that had been prepared for the next morning's use. He retraced his steps and locked the door once he was out.

The servants walked a few miles in the snow draped forest and returned by snow mobile to their hideout.

________________

Late the next morning...

Williams and Harris, along with a team of servants, collected the sleep induced couple and all their things. They bundled them up in warm clothes and blankets before setting off back to Lythikos.

______________

Lythikos, mid afternoon...

Olivia smiled in approval at their quick and efficient work. She had them set the two in one of the guestrooms. She returned downstairs to everyone sitting around the dining room table for lunch.

"Now, we wait."

_____________

Five hours later...

Thomas gripped his head and tried to sit up. Once the room stopped tilting, he looked around at the ornate decorations and groaned. It hit him that they had somehow suffered a repeat performance from Olivia. He had no idea where they were this time.

He gently shook Amanda. After a few times of this, she opened her eyes. "Please don't shake me." She pleaded, throwing her arm over her eyes. "What happened? Why is everything spinning?"

"We were drugged again." He weakly motioned around the room. "Where are we?"

She propped herself up on her elbows and blinked a few times to try and focus. The room decided to remain in one position, allowing her to recognize her surroundings. "Lythikos." She fell back on her pillow.

"We are? Are you sure?" He was afraid to believe they could actually escape this time.

"Yes." She mumbled into her pillow.

He stood up on wobbly legs. "We're getting out of here."

"I can't. I'm too sleepy." Amanda yawned, pulling a blanket up. "Save yourself. Forget about me and make a new life."

He ignored her sarcasm and hefted her up. "Come on. We're leaving." He wrapped his arm around her waist and half dragged her out of the room.

"Which way?" He asked looking up and down the hallway.

"Thomas, just leave me. I'll escape later." She murmured, dropping her head on his shoulder.

"I'm not leaving you in the clutches of a deranged individual! What if she decides to lock you up somewhere else and I can't find you?" He pulled her more snuggly against his side. "Focus for me, Amanda. Which way?"

She groaned and pointed to the left. "That way."

They slowly made their way toward the stairs.

"Ah, your grace. I see you are awake."

Thomas whirled around with Amanda dozing on his shoulder. "Stay back." He ordered.

"But sir," Harris began. "I only wish to tell you and Lady Amanda that--"

"Not another step. We are leaving." Thomas backed up against a wall. He kept his eyes on the servant that was watching him with a great deal of confusion and edged sideways.

He made it to the stairs and shook Amanda. "Wake up." He ordered. "We have to go downstairs. I need you actively helping me right now before Olivia catches us."

"Thomas, Olivia hasn't lost her mind." Amanda let go of him and leaned against the banister. She tried to concentrate. "She must have had a reason to--"

"Drug and kidnap us twice? Twice!" He ran his hands over his face. "Short of saving us from being murdered, I can't think of one logical reason to do this to us two times in a row."

"Oh I definitely have a reason."

The two looked down at Olivia. Their other friends came out and fanned around her. A proud smirk appeared on her red lips. "We all had a reason."

_______________

A comfortable den at Lythikos...

The couple remained silent after everything was explained. Shock at the plan not only being thought of but also successfully executed kept them from being able to speak.

Thomas shook his head no when Olivia offered him coffee. He then quietly pushed back the tea cup set in front of Amanda. His dark eyes touched on each face. "Let me see if I understand this. You did all this to cause Lauren to break her contract?"

"That and change her story in front of the press." Holly added. "And wait until you see Jessica in the part! She brings an innocence to Elizabeth that Lauren could never fake."

He ignored that last part. "Why wouldn't you simply tell us your plan?"

The group shared loaded glances. "We didn't think you would go along with it." Addison admitted.

Maxwell leaned forward, his deep blue eyes flickereing back and forth between the two. "I say this with nothing but love: you two are incredibly stubborn."

Everyone nodded while muttering examples of the couple's hard headedness both individually and combined.

"I would have gone along with it." Amanda replied.

Thomas slowly nodded. "I can see the benefits. I would like to think I would have at the very least been open to it."

"I would have chosen somewhere else to hide out though." Amanda muttered.

"That's another reason you were drugged and not let in on the plan. You wouldn't have chosen a place where no one would have a chance to see you." Olivia explained.

Amanda hesistated. "I guess I wouldn't."

"And you wouldn't have waited so long past your shooting schedule." Ryan added to Thomas.

He rubbed a hand down his face. "I suppose not."

"Did you at least have a good time together?" Nadia asked, worry over them being mad at the group weighed heavy on her mind.

Thomas leaned back and met Amanda's gaze. Her eyes dropped down to his scarred bottom lip while his touched on her recently healed black eye. They shared a brief smile and nodded simultaneously.

"Once we got over the injuries," Amanda began.

"And I quit complaining about being unable to start filming." Thomas added.

She laughed and slipped her hand in his. "It ended up being nice with no one around."

"Injuries?" Drake cocked an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"Oh the usual." Amanda muttered. "Some silly person getting scared in the cellar and delivering an elbow to the face."

"Catapulting off the porch due to some idiot chopping wood at sunrise." Thomas continued. He smiled at her laughing again. She seemed to relax once more into the woman he had known before everything had occurred with Lauren. He put his arm around her when she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You're not angry with our interference in both your personal and professional lives?" Liam asked.

Amanda tilted her head up to look at Thomas. "I'm not. Are you?"

"No. I'm grateful for the meddling. I have struggled to come up with a plan to be rid of Lauren once and for all. You have saved me a great deal of stress." He bowed his head to the group. "Thank you."

"Do my ears decieve me or did Thomas Hunt say thank you?" Chris asked. "Quick Olivia! Where else can we stash him away for a few more weeks?"

"I can always take back my thanks." Thomas warned.

"Welcome back, Mr. Director." Chris quickly said. "May you never leave our prescence again."

________________

The next evening, St. Orella...

"I have never been so happy to be home." Thomas announced as he crawled into bed. "I am tempted to film everything here to avoid being stuck in hotel rooms."

Amanda set her book on the nightstand and rolled over to face him. "Thomas, this is the first time you have referred to St Orella as home."

His brow furrowed. "Surely I referred to it as such at some po--." He moaned at the heated kiss she gave him. "If you are going to kiss me like that then I will call this place home in every sentence."

She laughed and kissed him once more. "I have thought of your house in California as our home for quite a while now. Knowing you feel the same for this one makes me so happy."

He gently cupped her cheek. "After the ball, we must begin filming. I need to get some footage shot before Liam's coronation."

She nodded. "Why do you sound worried?"

"I know you have to participate this week and the next in social events. I hate leaving you on your own with Lauren now as an unwelcome part of them." His thumb softly stroked her cheek. "Actually, I don't like the idea of being apart period."

"I have dealt with worse people than Lauren. Hopefully she will be so wrapped up in Tariq that she won't bother trying anything else." Amanda grinned and snuggled closer. "As for our being apart, you have been stuck with my company for nearly five months, two of which you were cut off completely from any part of civilization. I believe you have more than earned a reprieve from me."

His arm slid around her. "I have not once wished for a reprieve as you phrase it. Since I first picked you up at the airport, I have enjoyed and craved your companionship more than anyone else's. I only wanted to leave the cabin for work. It was never to take a break from you." His hands rubbed up and down her back. "Each moment we have spent together has proven over and over that you are the only one for me."

She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "That might be the sweetest compliment anyone has ever given me." Her laughter was muffled against his chest when he muttered that she should feel free to voice her reciprocated feelings for him.

"You know I love being with you." she responded. "Being stuck in the cabin that I have always hated showed me also that you are the only person I will both willingly and gladly be trapped with. As long as I have you, anyplace we are in will feel like home."

After a sweet kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers. "I am going to miss you." Thomas admitted. "I know it is only for a week or so..." He closed his eyes in mock frustration. "You have done quite a number on me. Making it to where even sleeping without you beside me will be impossible...you should be ashamed of ruining me for anything different."

"I'm sorry." She said in the midst of smothering her giggles. "If you want, I can sleep in a different room so that you will begin to get used to not having me around."

"If you do, I will be forced to follow you." He warned. His lips curved as she placed a kiss on his stubbled jaw.

"Good." Amanda muttered. She turned the lamp off and smiled at the warm body pressing against hers. "I intend to keep you close for as long as I can."

She yawned and closed her eyes. "We have much to do tomorrow before the rest of the court arrives. It will be our official announcement of our marriage with the hosting of this ball."

"They don't know we are married yet?" Thomas asked.

"They do, but a newly wedded noble couple hosting the court is a sign that they share the same motivations and ideals. The couple is united as one in anything presented politically and socially." She explained.

Thomas grunted his understanding while cuddling her close. "Then it is past time we showed the court that very aspect of our marriage." He closed his eyes and relaxed. "We will make certain the ball goes off without any problems."

[missbrightsky]

I didn’t know where else to go

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Previous Chapter

Chapter 5: Feyre

“Alright, Feyre, it’s Friday night, what clubs are we hitting up?” Lucien perched on my desk, nudging me with his knee.

“Home,” I said, not breaking eye contact with the screen, closing out my windows for the day.

“What?” he exclaimed, “Lame. Come out with me.”

“No, I want to go home and lick my wounds,” adding a tinge of frustration to my tone. Please buy the lie.

“Then I’ll join you,” he offered, readying himself to leave.

Shit. “No, you should go out,” I insisted, “What about texting that girl…,” I racked my brain for her name, “Vassa.”

Lucien turned an embarrassing shade of red and shifted uncomfortably. I quirked an eyebrow, finally turning towards him. It was easier to lie to Lucien when he was the one being interrogated.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat, still not meeting my eyes.

“Mmmhhmmm,” I hummed, “It’s unlike you to back down from a challenge.”

“I’m not backing down,” he blurted, wincing at the volume of his voice. “I’m not backing down,” he repeated. “I’m just…”

I barked a laugh; it was rare to see his so unbalanced when it came to women. I patted him reassuringly on the knee. “Text her, go out tonight. Trust me, she was into you last I saw.”

“Because you’re all-knowing when it comes to dating?” he retorted. I knew exactly who he was referring to.

“Not cool,” I shot back at him. Lucien knew why Tamlin and I broke up, supported it even though Tamlin was Lucien’s best friend.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, having the good sense to look sheepishly apologetic. “It’s fine,” I said, shaking off the memories. “It’s far in the past.” I smiled to show him that the barb didn’t dig in deep. “Text her.” I patted him one more time on the knee and then gathered up my jacket and bag. “And text me tomorrow morning with the tea.”

“Asshole,” he muttered.

“Sorry?” I cupped my hand around my ear, leaning in, “What was that?”

“Asshole,” he said louder but with a grin that told me that I won.

We walked towards the elevator together, calling out our goodbyes for the weekend. On the brief ride down, I snuck a glance over at Lucien who was preoccupied with typing, and then deleting, a text message.

“You are ridiculous,” I growled, swiping his phone away.

“Hey!” he yelped, using his taller frame to lean over me and try and grab his phone back. I shoved my shoulder into his chest, muscling him away. Lucien may have the height advantage but that had never stopped me. He huffed a grunt and the pressure lessened on me.

I typed out a short and simple message and handed his phone back.

“’Haven’t seen you in a while, want to grab dinner?’” he read out loud. “Really, Feyre,” practically whining my name, “Could you have been any more direct?”

“You’re welcome,” I said, nodding towards to new message that buzzed.

He grumbled his thanks, not looking very grateful. We stepped out of the elevator, him now hunched over his phone, firing off back and forth with her. The fresh autumn air greeted us, blowing us in different directions. Lucien waved a brief goodbye, now completely engrossed in conversation. Well that got him off my back for the night.

I checked my watch. 7:00, barely enough time to get to dinner at Rhys’s.

The subway was packed with young and old, most commuting home for the night, but some were already dressed for an evening out, ready to take advantage of Velaris’s many restaurants and night clubs. If I hadn’t been such a dumbass and gotten the shit beat out of me, I would be a part of that crowd with Lucien.

We’d both met when we were beat cops, starting out fresh from the academy. Our first impressions of each other were… not good. He had been closed off and sullen, no more than a boy who had finally escaped his fathers’ thumb. Beron Vanserra was notorious in Velaris for being one of the top corporate lawyers. Had his own practice run by him and his sons. All except one. I made the mistake of recognizing his last name and mouthing off some comment about being a coddled rich boy. It was enough that he snarled in my face, telling me that I had no right to make assumptions about his life. The ugly shouting match that followed had earned us a joint night patrol for six months. Helion stated that if we had that much energy to fight with each other, we had enough energy to take the overnight shift.

It wasn’t until the last month of the rotation that we finally bonded over midnight tacos and coffee. He shared the pressures of being the son of a cruel and corrupt father, the only one of seven brothers who didn’t fall in line. I told him of how my mother was murdered when I was young, leaving me to try to keep my father and sisters moving forward. I joked that it was a cliché reason to become a cop but Lucien stopped me.

“I saw how my father treated my mother when no one else was around. I wanted to become someone who had the authority to help those that can’t,” his eyes were hard with hatred, but tears threatened the edges of them.

We’d both realized that we had wretched childhoods and could do more good working together. Helion saw the change in our relationship and made us permanent partners, giving us a small nod of fatherly approval at our friendship. Four years later and we both got promoted to detective.

It was hard to hide what had happened with Rhys, and that I was now working with him. Not only hard because Lucien was a bloodhound with lies, but also because he was my best friend and I hated lying to him.

I took a deep breath to shake myself out of the bitter turn my mind had taken. I doubled checked my map, nearly missing the stop I had to get off of.

The walk to Rhys’s place had my shoulders tense, every sound sharped my wariness. I didn’t know if those men from two nights ago were around and ready to finish the job.

Turning into his alley allowed me to relax fractionally against my better judgment. I was walking into the lair of my enemy to have dinner with him and his family to discuss how to bring down a different enemy that I know nothing about. I don’t want to know how many laws I’m breaking right now.

I knocked on the door, its hollow metallic noise carrying through the space beyond. To my surprise, the noise of a scuffle and irritated voices answered. My hand twitched to my gun holstered at my hip, a reflex well-trained into me. I widened my stance, ready to burst through the door or fight whoever was about to come through.

Rhys flung the door open, still glaring at whoever was behind him before turning to me. “Feyre, darling. Welcome back. Could you look any more like a cop right now?”

I relaxed my stance, letting my hand slide from my gun, “Fuck off.”

His mouth split into a wide grin, delight lit his eyes. He gestured for me to enter with a flourish, causing me to roll my eyes. I stepped inside, scanning for the source of the scuffle that had happened moments before.

“Hi!” a bright voice startled me from behind. I turned on my heel, coming face to face with a blonde who was maybe three inches away. Before I had a chance to either back away or introduce myself, I was enveloped in a tight hug.

“Rhys has told me so much about you but for obvious reasons I couldn’t meet you until now,” she chattered in my ear, the tone bubbly and mildly annoyed.

“Mor,” Rhys groaned, “Let her go.”

“Ugh, fine,” releasing me but didn’t go far. She continued to smile at me, no trace of dangerous crime leader around her.

Morrigan Solis. Rhys’s third in command and cousin. She was nothing like what I expected. Our reports touted her stone-cold reputation for being a woman who didn’t take no for an answer.

I recovered fast in the face of this shock, feeling alarmingly disarmed by her. “I didn’t realize Rhys talked about me this much. Makes me feel bad that I never mention him to my friends.” Mor threw her head back and laughed while Rhys groaned again in the background, cursing out Mor under his breath. More laugher came from the kitchen, this one low and throaty.

“How come Mor is the only one with all the information?” I turned to see a man pouring wine from a decanter, pouting at Rhys.

“Because she bugs it out of me. You’re usually too busy kissing your muscles to get that far,” Rhys shot back easily.

I recognized Cassian Noc spitting out wine at the words. The ruthless leader of Veritas’s street troops. Ruthless, but a major inspiration of the loyalty in the gang.

“That’s a good look on you, Cas,” Mor commented, moving to refill her own wineglass.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, the weight of a gaze settling on me. Some long-buried primal instinct had me turning slowly like prey avoiding detection to find the source of it. There sitting on the couch was Amren Monsea, blood-red nails encircling a crystal tumbler of amber liquid. Grey eyes so light they could be called silver stripped down the layers of my mortal flesh until she could see the soul beneath it.

Rhys’s second in command. Unlike the others that were completely opposite of what I expected, she was a thousand times worse. My mouth dried up; my heart stumbled into a gallop.

“Quit it, Amren,” a soft voice said at my left. I hadn’t realized that Rhys had stepped up to my shoulder, his warmth bringing me back into my body.

Amren’s eyes flickered to his and blinked, all otherworldly sense falling away, releasing me from her trance.

“Just testing her meddle. We’ll work on it,” she said with a serpentine smile. “She will have to be able to face Amarantha.”

Rhys opened his mouth but Mor appeared at my other shoulder, pressing a glass of wine into my hand. “Ignore Amren, once you get to know her, she’s a doting aunt.”

A hiss came from Amren, which even half-hearted, still did nothing to dispel my wariness of her.

Mor released a dramatic sign, dispelling the rest of the tension. “Everyone wants to talk, talk, talk. Can’t we eat, eat, eat and then talk?” she started herding us to the table where food was already laid out. Mor took a seat and prompted me to take the one to her right. I slid in and realized that I had sandwiched myself between her and Rhys, who had taken the end seat. Cassian brought over what looked to be chicken in mushroom sauce and sat across from me, wine now absent from his face. Amren took the other end of the table and I blinked, just now noticing that Azriel Noc had taken the last seat across from Mor.

Rhys’s infamous spymaster. He was so good at his job that I didn’t even see him in the room until he was sitting at the table.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? I was sitting at a dinner table, surrounded by gang members, while they bickered like siblings.

“Pass the potatoes will you, darling?” Rhys asked me. I leveled a glare at him before handing him the bowl.

I had to stop myself from moaning at the first bite of chicken. As an ambitious detective, my meals had been reduced to take out or frozen Lean Cuisines.

Cassian must have picked up on my pleased expression, shooting at self-satisfied grin at me. “If you like dinner so much, Detective Archeron, you should see what’s for dinner,” he winked at me.

“Eat up now then, Feyre, because dessert won’t fill you up,” Mor muttered.

Cas squawked at her, leading the two into a bicker of innuendos. My bewilderment at the family’s dynamics grew while also making me forget that I was at the table with some of the most wanted criminals in the city.

Amren and Az stayed quiet at the end of the table, the former watching with cool amusement with the latter gauging changes in emotions, ready to hop in the middle if needed.

“Not what you expected, darling, is it?” Rhys had leaned over, his breath warm with spices and wine brushing past me. I turned my head only slightly, not taking my eyes off the arguing pair, refusing to meet the violet gaze that was inches from my face.

“No, nothing of what I expected,” I said, not wanting to give away too much of what was going on in my mind. Rhys only let out a small hum, shifting back in his seat to spectate with me.

Mor ignored Cassian’s last comment, deciding to turn to me instead. “So Feyre, Rhys said that you’re willing to help us out, but how do we know that we can trust you?” I gulped my wine hard, thrown off from her switch of bright and bubbly to the person I know on paper. Cold, calculating, and unyielding. A queen of steel and ice.

I decided that simple honesty would be my only chance of survival. “Rhys told me the story of how you had to flee your country from Amarantha,” meeting each of their gazes with steady openness. “I may have taken an oath to follow the law, but I also took an oath to protect the citizens of this city. Amarantha presents a threat to them and I can’t ignore that.” I let the words hang in the air, let them absorb their verisimilitude.

Az was the first to break the silence, “I believe her,” and that was that. The conversational air returned, rushing into the vacuum Mor’s question had created.

Mor then peppered me with more questions.

How long had I lived in Velaris? (10 years)

What my favorite night clubs were? (I didn’t have any, usually going along with whatever Lucien had chosen for that week)

And who my latest fuck was, at which at that point I choked and used all my will to not look at Rhys.

He, apparently, had not done as well as me and blushed a harsh red while boring holes into my skull. Cassian at that point took about point two seconds to analyze the sudden tension on the opposite side of the table from him and burst out laughing.

Mor gave him an incredulous look, too focused on refilling her wine glass to realize what had just happened. Az had the decency to look away while Amren split her mouth in a serpentine smile.

“Well, well, well, it seems that we have a dirty cop on our hands,” Cassian smirked, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. Those words combined with my matching flush allowed Mor to put the pieces together. Her smirk rivaled Cassian’s.

Rhys at this point had composed himself, leaning back in his seat and swirling whatever wine was left in his glass, his face calm but unreadable. Looks like I’m getting no help there.

My thoughts whirled, trying to come up with a way out of this situation but I kept coming up blank.

“If he’s rendered you this speechless, then I have no hope, do I?” Cas drawled, his gaze simmering into mine.

“Nope, no, Cassian. I do not want to hear about how my cousin is in bed,” Mor shot back, saving me from any more questioning.

“It was a mistake, nothing more,” I finally managed to get out, forcing lightness into the words, ignoring Rhys’s almost unperceivable flinch on the corner of my vision. “I blame it on the drugs and alcohol in my system.”

“Oh ho! So our new little cop friend likes to play hard in and out of bed,” Cas chortled, reveling in the fact that he had new material to harass his brother on.

“No,” I ground out, “The drugs were from some piece of shit thugs who spiked my drink and beat me bloody in an alley. I was following up a lead on him,” jerking my chin to Rhys, “when this happened. Rhys was kind enough to stitch me up and was fresh out of painkillers, so he gave me whiskey instead. Needless to say, I wasn’t myself that night,” I finished, putting enough severity into the words that I hope he got the message. That night will not be repeated.

Four gazes pressed into me, the violet fifth stared at the table.

“What did they look like?” Mor asked softly but not weakly. Golden fire snapped in her eyes.

I sensed the energy change in the room. Gone was the teasing, replaced by malice not directed at me, but at my attackers.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “I was too busy scoping out the bar for your associates to note the faces well enough. Next thing I knew I was stumbling down the block, not realizing where I was going until I was halfway here.”

“When did this happen?” Cassian followed up.

“Two nights ago, Wednesday.”

“Az,” Cas’s sharp tone cut the air.

“Already on it,” came the response. I looked over and Azriel was rapidly typing on his phone, a call coming through midway a flurry of messages. He excused himself from the table, taking the call in the far corner of the living room.

“It’s probably better that you don’t know what he’s doing,” Mor apologized with a wince. If the last few actions hadn’t already outlined what was about to happen, Mor’s words confirmed it.

“You’re probably right,” was the only response I could give, shocked at how protective they already were of me. I wouldn’t be too surprised if the next time I went into the precinct, there would be fresh missing person or homicide cases on my desk.

It then occurred to me that not one of them had asked about the injuries that were still freshly written across my face and gait. I wondered if Rhys had told them to not ask about them or if they were just used to seeing brutality on a daily basis.

Rhys’s gaze again pressed on me, and this time I turned to meet it. My breath nearly caught at the violent swirl of emotions that were there. Anger. Concern. Apology.

And lust. Barely there but still recognizable. My attempts to shove him away had fallen on deaf ears.

I hated how my core tightened at the heated gaze. Hated how my body responded to his when all I should be doing is putting distance between us. Hated how he did nothing to stop himself.

We were on opposite sides of the law, or at least we used to be. It was my decisions that had brought us closer. I couldn’t ignore his need for my help, but I could ignore how my body cried out for him.

“Thank you for dinner,” I blurted out, breaking the spell between us. He blinked once, returning to the cool mask that he favored.

“You’re welcome,” he said carefully.

“Did I pass the test?” I asked, draining the rest of my glass.

“I’d say so, since you managed to spur Cas and Az into action.”

“Great,” I stood up, ready clear my head of him. “I need to get home and do some research but text me with any new info.”

“You won’t stay for after-dinner wine? I planned to raid Rhys’s collection,” Mor practically pleaded. I took in her puppy dog expression and almost caved, but the heat that appeared at my back reminded me of why I wanted to leave.

“Maybe next time,” I said with a small smile. It was too easy to be friendly with her, criminal record or not.

I headed towards the door, eager to escape and reevaluate my entire life. As I reached for the handle, sturdy fingers brushed mine, rough with calluses. I jerked my hand back as though I had been burned, taking a quick step away from the body that entered my personal space.

“Feyre,” his soft voice wrapped around me. It was only the tenderness in it that made me look up at him. Again, stupidly again, those eyes swallowed me up and threatened to pull me in. “Thank you for coming tonight, I hope it wasn’t too terrible.” A silent plea and apology were laced through the words.

“No,” I paused, “I… I like them, they’re not what I expected.”

A smile played on his lips, glancing back at where Cas and Mor were bickering over kitchen duties while Amren supervised from the bar. “I think they like you too.”

With that he opened the door, letting the cool autumn air swirl in. I inadvertently shivered at the difference in temperature. Rhys had noted it and responded with “If you need someone to warm you up tonight, you have my number,” followed by his classic wink.

I scowled, tucking my hands deep into my coat so that they wouldn’t strangle him or pull him closer. His laughter followed me down the alley and onto the street.

Next Chapter

[tearsofgrace]

turns out i’m not done with this !!

@wanderingcas i love you but i do blame you for this 

the seven sonnets of michelangelo, written by benjamin britten for his long-time partner peter pears (who later described them as the best thing britten had ever given him) are a song cycle written for piano and tenor. besides like the real world implications of this making me go feral because GOD (for context, britten died in 1976) they FIT DESTIEL REALLY DAMN WELL OKAY????

so here’s the link 

the lyrics come from translations (done by pears) of michelangelo’s sonnets if that wasn’t clear

im not gonna do a musical analysis, even though like god that also fits destiel perfectly, but ima look at individual prose (coming from the translations of michelangelo’s original work) below the cut, feel free to scroll darlings

sonetto xvi

Just as there is a high, a low, and a middle style in pen and ink, and as within the marble are images rich and poor, according as our fancy knows how to draw them forth:

so within your heart, dear love, there are perhaps, as well as pride, some humble feelings: but I draw thence only what is my desert and like to what I show outside on my face.

Whoever sows sighs, tears and lamentations (Heaven’s moisture on earth, simple and pure, adapts itself differently to different seeds) reaps and gathers grief and sadness:

whoever looks on high beauty with so great a grief reaps doubtful hopes and sure and bitter pain.

okay so the best part of equating all this to destiel is that for the most part, the sonnets they chose to translate deal with the bad parts of love, the unfulfilled rejection and Despair (sorry) if you will

the last line in this one really REALLY kills me. “high beauty” being cas and dean being the one looking and reaping only pain. 

also just the heaven imagery in general and the bitterness of it all... kill me now? 

sonetto xxxi 

Why must I go on venting my ardent desire in tears and melancholy words, if Heaven that dresses the soul in grief, never, soon or late, allows relief?

Why should my weary heart long for death since all must die? So to these eyes my last hours will be less painful, all my grief being greater than any joy.

If, therefore, I cannot avoid these blows, nay, even seek them, since it is my fate, who is the one that stands always between joy and grief?

If to be happy I must be conquered and held captive, no wonder then that I, unarmed and alone, remain the prisoner of a Cavalier in arms.

the complete hopelessness in this one gives me all kinds of feels. the idea that maybe the reason cas couldn’t have dean is because all the hurt and pain and grief that fills the small space between them overwhelms the happiness they could have in being together

and then of course the last line.. is SO cas. “if to be happy i must be conquered” hahahahahhaa this is fine

sonetto xxx

With your lovely eyes I see a sweet light that yet with my blind ones I cannot see; with your feet I carry a weight on my back which with my lame ones I cannot; with your wings I, wingless, fly; with your spirit I move forever heavenward; at your wish I blush or turn pale, cold in the sunshine, or hot in the coldest midwinter.

My will is in your will alone, my thoughts are born in your heart, my words are on your breath.

Alone, I am like the moon in the sky which our eyes cannot see save that part which the sun illumines.

finally a happy one !

“with your wings I, wingless, fly” ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

plus PLUS the whole “with your BLANK i BLANK” is just soooo reminiscent of cas learning how to feel from dean. i’m. going. to. scream. 

“my will is in your will alone” ................. “i always come when you call” 

AND! THEN! THE! MOON! AND! SUN! THING! THAT! WE! ALL! TALK! ABOUT! WITH! DEAN AND CAS! (looking at marlo) @heller-jensen

sonetto lv

Though know’st, beloved, that I know thou know’st that I am come nearer to enjoy thee more; and thou know’st that I know thou know’st that I am still the same. Why, then, do I hesitate to greet thee?

If the hope thou givest me is true, if true the strong desire that is granted me, the wall between us crumbles, for secret griefs have double force.

If I love in thee, beloved, only what thou lovest most, do not be angry; for so one spirit is enamoured of another.

That which in thy lovely face I yearn for and seek to grasp, is but ill understood by human kind, and he that would see it, first must die.

the hesitation in this is key. the whole, if we know we’re in love why then are we waiting that just perfectly encapsulates dean and cas

and then. and THEN. the whole ethereal-ness of the second half. the whole next-to-godliness of those lines. the whole he’s AN ANGEL I DON’T KNOW IF HE CAN FEEL THAT WAY HE’S UNTOUCHABLE. kinda thing. 

sonetto xxxviii

Give back to my eyes, you fountains and rivers, the waves of those strong currents that are not yours, which make you swell and grow with greater power than is your natural way.

And thou, heavy air, that dims the heavenly light to my sad eyes, so full of my sighs art thou, give them back to my weary heart and lighten thy dark face to my eye’s keen sight.

Earth, give me back my footsteps that the grass may sprout again where it was trod; and Echo, yet deaf to my laments, give back thy sound; and you blest pupils give back to my eyes their glances;

that I another time may love another beauty, since with me you are not satisfied.

this one isn’t actually destiel per se... this one is cas. this one is a broken afraid cas who’s just turned human and doesn’t know how to live and who is realizing he is in love with dean. 

and he knows (thinks) dean could never love him back. everything, everything has changed for him since falling in love with dean. but he still thinks that dean will never be satisfied with him

sonetto xxxii

If love be chaste, if pity heavenly, if fortune equal between two lovers; if a bitter fate is shared by both, and if one spirit, one will rules two hearts;

if in two bodies one soul is made eternal, raising both to heaven on the same wings; if at one stroke and with a gilded arrow love burns and pierces two hearts to the core;

if in loving one another, forgetting one’s self, with one pleasure and one delight there is such reward that both wills strive for the same end;

if thousands and thousands do not make one hundredth part to such a bond of love, to such constancy, can, then, mere anger break and dissolve it?

hehe this one makes me cry. like. fulllllll on cry. 

highlights

“bitter fate is shared by both” “one will rules two hearts” i mean... i MEAN. don’t think i need to explain that

and then the next part. “in two bodies one soul is made eternal” with only dean having a soul and him drawing them together but then the VERY next part “raising both to heaven on the same wings” with only cas having wings i’m literally going feral someone take my keyboard away from me before i ASLDJFHA

“can, then, mere anger break and dissolve it?” 

“i don’t know why i get so angry. i just know it’s always been there. ... and i forgive you. of course i forgive you.” 

because no matter how angry dean gets at cas, no matter how much he batters and abuses him, the bond between them will always live through it. 

sonetto xxiv

Noble soul, in whose chaste and dear limbs are reflected all that nature and heaven can achieve with us, the paragon of their works:

graceful soul, within whom one hopes and believes Love, Pity and Mercy are dwelling, as they appear in your face; things so rare and never found in beauty so truly:

Love takes me captive, and Beauty binds me; Pity and Mercy with sweet glances fill my heart with a strong hope.

What law or earthly government, what cruelty now or to come, could forbid Death to spare such a lovely face?

so the last one is happy again (yay!!) and also basically just described the righteous man like i am not kidding. 

like this is literally just cas telling dean how much he deserves and how everything he’s ever done he’s done because of love and i’m screaming. 

and then. the SECOND half. is the second half of cas’ confession. really fitting that this is the last sonnet, huh? the end of their love story at least as we see it on screen. 

this is just cas saying he loves dean. before he’s ripped away from him. 

[mattzerella-sticks]

Direct Action (a Dean/Cas fic, M, 5.7k)

It was a strange night for Dean Winchester. First, he finds out his girlfriend tells everyone but him they're in an open relationship. Then, he meets up with one of the men who hit on her. At this point, anything could happen. So who is he to fight back? If he rolls with it... who knows how it'll all end?

           Dean had no idea what he was doing. Sitting at a booth inside Mabel’s Diner, he stabbed at his milkshake, hoping no one fell into the seat across from him. ‘Maybe it was all a joke,’ he thought, glare burning a frothy hole in his drink, ‘Yeah, I mean… just some quick thinking to save himself from a messy situation. That’s it.’ It’s already fifteen minutes since he was supposed to meet him. In another fifteen, he was officially stood up. ‘Why do you care anyway? You have a girlfriend back at your place…’ A storm shifted in his mind, expression darkening further after bringing up Abby. ‘Although, if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be in this mess.’

           It all began only a few hours ago. Abby swung by after her double shift at the hospital, squeezing in some time together. He prepared her favorite – steak on the rare side with some potato casserole on the side. Dean wanted a special night in since it was the first time in two weeks they’d seen each other. The recent months hadn’t been kind to them, their schedules fitting together like a square peg in a round hole. ‘And maybe I wanted this dinner to work because it felt like we were… drifting apart,’ he rationalized after.

           Although she threw his plans off its course; greeting him at the door, Abby pounced. Leaving their clothes behind them, Dean carried her into his bedroom. In between kisses, he tried to tell her about the dinner. She chuckled. “Hungry for something else.”

           By the time they finished Dean knew their meal was freezing. He dug himself out from beneath the covers, flipping it over his face to smile at Abby. Only she was already asleep. Dean pouted, rolling off of her and onto his side of the bed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Abby,” he grunted, shifting his hard dick around, “No, it’s okay, I can finish myself off… like always.” Tugging at it, Dean worked his boner at an safe pace, squeezing the head and balls arrhythmically.

           He came into his palm, biting at his lip with enough force to tear the skin. Panting, Dean laid in bed, the exhaustion of a heady orgasm rippling through him like stones skipping across a lake. He glanced over at Abby, resting undisturbed even after that. “Of course,” he muttered. Feeling his come start to dry, Dean ambled out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom. Then, still naked, he set about cleaning up the house.

           While picking up the strewn clothing, after having put away the untouched dinner, he heard the familiar chime of a message being received. He searched through the pile before finding it – Abby’s phone. ‘Probably nothing, a shift change,’ he thought at first. But then they took a sharp left onto a speeding highway. ‘…Or it could be an emergency. She has been getting a lot of those, having to go back into work.’ It would be at the most awkward times, Dean waking up to find either Abby gone or on her way out, not even waiting for a kiss goodbye.

           Letting his nerves take the wheel, Dean unlocked Abby’s phone. It was her messenger app, the little bubble on the right of her screen filled with a strong, stubble-dusted chin and smirk. His heart beat faster, unsure what a profile like that would be doing contacting Abby. He knew all her friends, and none of them had features that chiseled. It made sense when he opened the message.

           Hey gorgeous, how are you?

           Dean’s mind hit an icy patch, skidding and swerving off the road and into a ditch. He stared at the screen, too stunned to respond. Instead he walked back to his room, lying down, revving his engine and spinning his wheels to climb back out of the hole he was in. ‘This… it must be a wrong number.’ But then he remembered it was through Messenger, and not some random text. His blood, once frozen, now rushed around in blazing anger. ‘Where does this guy get off… contacting Abby when we’re together.’

           Acting on autopilot, Dean shot off a quick text: She’s sleeping, dude. Then, feeling cocky, he opened the camera feature to snap a quick picture of himself, sending that as well. Along with: It’s me, her boyfriend.

           He wasn’t expecting to see the little dots appear in the bottom left corner. ‘Dude has balls…’ Waiting, Dean glanced at the guy’s name, and reigned in a snort. ‘With a name like Castiel, he probably needed a set to get through life.’

           Dean wasn’t laughing when he read the next message.

           Hey handsome, how are you? <3

           There wasn’t any traction left to help Dean. He was stuck, unable to make any sense of the situation. So confused, he sent a follow-up to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. …Did you just hit on me, after hitting on my girlfriend?

           Barely a minute passed before Castiel answered Yes.

           How big are the balls you walk around with?

           It’d be easier if I showed you ;)

           Dean shook his head, clearing away the fierce blush working its way up his cheeks. ‘Can he not take a hint?’ Dude not interested. Again, in a relationship.

           There’s a bit of a pause as he waited for Castiel’s latest response. ‘Looks like I’ve finally thrown him off his rhythm.’ Except it was his rhythm that broke apart when he read what Castiel had to say.

           I thought Abby had an open relationship?

           His heart plummeted under his bed, mingling with the sex toys and boxes he stored. Typing back with fury, he asked, Who told you that?

           Mutual friend. Plus her FB page says she’s in an open relationship.

           Dean wanted to believe Castiel was a liar. Some guy that flew a little too close to the sun, got burned, and was spiraling somewhere he could land with only a few bruises. ‘And Abby’s my girlfriend, I should trust her.’ He tapped on the Facebook app. ‘We’re coming up on our one year – we’ve been clear about what we want.’ Dean went to her profile. ‘She’d never… never…’

           Relationship Status: in an Open Relationship

           His vision spun. If he weren’t already lying down, Dean would have collapsed from how weak he felt. Suddenly his left side numbed, as if being that close to Abby was too much to bear. And if that wasn’t enough to deal with, more messages pinged on her phone.

           Is that not the case?

           Shit, I’m sorry.

           Are you okay?

           Dean huffed a bitter laugh, the taste of it making his lips curl. He typed back: Would you be okay?

           Castiel somehow had an answer. No. In my experience hitting things was more cathartic.

           Don’t really feel like wrecking my place.

           Then would you like to talk?

           Which is how Dean ended up in Mabel’s. They agreed to meet up there to talk things through in person. It was a strange thing, taking the guy who hit on your girlfriend to a midnight snack to discuss her possible infidelities. But with reality warped already, Dean found their plans the most normal outcome. After wiping the conversation from Abby’s phone, he got dressed and sped over. Dean came earlier than warranted, but because he couldn’t stand being in the same space as Abby for the time being.

           Wanting to turn his mind away from the spiraling black hole thinking of her would lead to, he started researching Castiel Novak. Dean wanted to know a bit more about whom he was meeting with besides his jawline. Granted, his Facebook page wasn’t of much help either. He was worse than Dean, who set up a profile three years ago to Castiel’s five. ‘That’s not the only gap…’ Castiel was two years older than him, which might explain the bad angles of his pictures. ‘If you’re using Facebook to troll for chicks, you’d wanna not have bad photos that scream over forty.’ The single defining feature Dean got from Castiel was dark, messy hair.

           “Dean? Is that you?”

           His investigation turned up all the wrong information. Dean whipped his head around, jaw somewhat dropping at the sight. “I thought you were a brunet?”

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