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bored-writer101 · 1 year

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Sam Winchester X Reader|Supernatural Rewrite|1.Pilot

A/N: well, the time has finally come. i’m finally posting my supernatural rewrite😂 huge shoutout to @uncouth-the-fifth for inspiring me (she also has a supernatural rewrite that is absolutely phenomenal that you guys should definitely go check out). i’ve been trying to start a rewrite basically ever since i started writing fanfic for this show, but it has never worked out. but i’ve finally figured it out! (kinda lol, i’m doing my best😂😭). i hope you all enjoy! (i wrote this with female reader in mind but i use gender neutral pronouns) {also here’s a supernatural themed spotify playlist if y’all want a soundtrack while you listen <3}

Words: 13,673

Series Masterlist

(image from pinterest)

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA | October 31st, 2005

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted upright in bed, panting as you tried to catch your breath and calm yourself down. You didn't get much of a chance to do that though. Your phone began to ring loudly from your bedside table, making you flinch. You reached out and fumbled around in the darkness for a few seconds before your fingers wrapped around the cold metal. You used your thumb to flip it open and held it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you could hear the shake in your own voice.

"Are you alright? Did I call at a bad time?" you immediately recognized the voice on the other end.

"I'm alright, Dean. I just had a nightmare, that's all."

"The usual one?"

"Mhm," you hummed in response.

"Well, we can do all our usual remedies after I pick you up," you could hear in his voice that he had a huge grin on his face.

"What? I thought you were in New Orleans?"

"I was. I had been waitin' on my dad, but he never showed. I haven't been able to get a hold of him for a few weeks," Dean told you.

"So? There were plenty of times that we weren't able to get a hold of him on a hunt when we were kids," you said, skeptical that John was truly missing.

John had always been one to drink a few too many in celebration of a hunt well done. You, Sam, and Dean would think something terrible had happened to him, but he would eventually stumble back in a few weeks later. The longest he had left the three of you alone was almost three months. Bobby stopped letting John take you on hunts after he found out about that.

"This is different. Somethin's happened, somethin' bad, if he's not dead already. I can feel it."

"Are you sure he's not just out on another bender?" you asked, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm sure, Y/N. I can explain more after I pick you up. Please, I need you to trust me on this," Dean pleaded through the phone.

You were hesitant to say yes. Usually you'd hop at the chance to go on a hunt with Dean, but this was different. You could hear in his voice that Dean believed that John was missing, and that he was worried. You trusted Dean, but you didn't trust his father. It could be another one of his 'hunter trials' to test if you were worthy to be hunters. He hadn't orchestrated one of those in a long time, but maybe that meant you were due for another one.

"Y/N? You still there?" Dean asked when you didn't respond.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm still here. Just thinkin'."

"Ya' really gotta think that hard about it?"

There was another moment of silence while you desperately tried and failed to find the words. You had so many thoughts swirling in your mind that you didn't even know where to start. Before you could complain that you had just woken up, Dean's voice was in your ear again.

"Come on, Y/N," he was not helping you think.

"Fine! I'll come with you," you relented, giving in to the sad puppy dog eyes you couldn't see, but you knew he was doing.

"Well, good... Because I'm only an hour and a half away," you heard him chuckle, and you decided you were going to smack him upside the head when he got here.

"And what were you gonna do if I said no?" you questioned.

"Kidnap you. Obviously."

"Like I'd let you."

"Whatever you say, kid," he said with a chuckle. "Just be packed and ready, alright?"

"Whatever you say, boss," you mocked him playfully, "See you when you get here."

"See you when I get there," he said, ignoring your teasing.

You heard the click of the call ending, then silence. You were frozen in place at first, and the memories of your nightmare came flooding back; your father's eyes closing and never opening again... You shook your head free of the image before finally dropping your hand holding the phone into your lap. The light from the still open screen hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust to the sudden light. You sat there for a few more seconds before pushing the covers off and forcing yourself out of bed. You got dressed in comfy clothes, knowing that you'd be spending a lot of time curled up in the passenger seat of the impala.

You tried to be quiet as you crept around the house, but you should have known better than to try and sneak around a hunter's home. You were leaned down in front of the open fridge, thinking of what to write on the 'see you later' note you were going to leave behind, when you heard someone clear their throat. You stood up straight and spun around quickly to face them. Bobby had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you with a deep frown, and furrowed brows that made the creases in his forehead all too prominent.

"Good morning?" you said hesitantly.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked; he had never been one for nuance.

"Um, out on a hunt," you told him with a little more confidence than before.

Even though you were twenty three, Bobby's gaze made you feel like you were sixteen again. It made you feel as if you were sneaking out to meet Sam and Dean for a late night joyride in whatever rust bucket that Dean had found(hot wired). You knew Bobby wasn't going to stop you from going, but you still didn't want to piss him off before you left. You weren't sure when you'd be back.

"Dean picking you up?" he asked, his tone a bit softer than before, but he was still frowning.

You nodded at his question, "he should be here soon."

"Alright, well, just promise me you'll be careful. And that you won't let Dean talk you into anything stupid," Bobby wagged his pointer finger at you as he said this.

"I'm always careful," you told him, even if that wasn't entirely truthful, but you'd say anything to reassure Bobby you'd be alright; the last thing you wanted him to do was worry his head off, "also I'm usually the one talking Dean out of doing anything stupid," this statement had a little more truth to it.

Bobby didn't look convinced. Not that he ever did, but you didn't want to leave him annoyed with you. You took a couple steps forward and wrapped your arms around him in a sudden hug. It didn't take long before Bobby hugged you back, squeezing you tight.

"I love you, dad. I'll be back before you know it."

Bobby sighed deeply, "I love you too, kiddo," he said before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Bobby wasn't your biological father, but he had stepped up and been your dad for over a decade. Any other day, he would have scolded you for calling him dad. He would tell you it isn't fair to your father, that you shouldn't try to forget or replace him. You always reassured him you would never forget though. What you don't tell him is that you'll never be able to forget the image of father dying in your arms as you beg for him to keep his eyes open. Before you could dwell on the dark memory for too long, you heard a short honk of a car horn outside. You pulled away and stood up straight in front of Bobby, raising a brow at him as if to silently ask, 'you gonna be alright?'

"Just go. Don't forget to call every once in a while so I know you're still alive" Bobby gestured toward the door.

"I will," you said as you walked to the front door, picking your duffel bag up off the floor, "bye, Bobby," you turned and waved to him with a smile, opting to not call him dad this time.

"Bye, Y/N," he waved back halfheartedly.

You turned back and headed out the front door, a rush of cold air biting at your exposed skin. If you were gone long enough, there would surely be a thick blanket of snow covering the junk yard by the time you got back. You noticed the impala in the driveway before looking up at the sky. You shut the door behind you as you admired the fiery shades of red and orange that were painted across the sky by the sunrise. You admired it for a moment before stepping down the porch steps. The gravel crunched under your boots as you walked over to the passenger side of the impala. You opened the back door and threw duffel bag in before getting into the passenger seat.

"Morning," you said to Dean once you had plopped down.

"Mornin'," he replied, wasting no time in pulling out of the driveway and back onto the road, gravel crunching loudly under the tires all the while, "I brought you some breakfast," he pointed to the fast food bag sitting on the seat next to you.

"Thanks," you mumbled as you grabbed the bag and pulled out the breakfast sandwich Dean had ordered for you.

You unwrapped your food and ate silently, the only sound coming from the Bob Seger tape that was playing softly through the speakers. You recognized the song to be Against The Wind. You thought back to the last time you saw Dean, and you realized it had been a few months. You kept in touch over the phone the best you could, but he had never been good at that, and you weren't much better. The last time you had seen him was about four months ago. You had gotten into a fight over John. Most of your fights revolved around him. It had been a simple misunderstanding during a hunt that made John flip his shit, and you were never one to take shit from him. Dean had barely made a move to defend you, and it hurt. He had apologized to you later, but it had been a Winchester style apology; a halfhearted one. You couldn't help but remember that fight now. Dean cleared his throat loudly, pulling you out of your thoughts. His thumbs drummed against the steering wheel has he hummed along to the music. You crumpled up the sandwich paper and threw it in the bag.

"So, we have a few stops to make," he told you with a grin, obviously trying to diffuse the building tension.

"Oh, yeah?" you replied, raising a questioning brow at him.

"Yeah, the first being a gas station. You can pick out some snacks for our drive."

"Good, because you always grab barbecue chips," you complained teasingly.

"What's wrong with a little BBQ?" he said, enunciating each letter in 'BBQ.'

"There's nothing necessarily wrong with barbecue, but eating them for every road trip can get a little boring."

"Fair enough. You still have to grab me a bag of them though."

"Yeah, will do."

Dean pulled off the main road and into the gas station parking lot. He pulled up to a gas pump and turned off the engine. He took out a few fives from his wallet and handed them to you. You said a quiet 'thanks' before you both climbed out of the impala.

"Don't forget my BBQ!" Dean called after you as you headed into the convenience store while he went to the gas pump.

It was only a few minutes before the two of you were back in your seats. You handed Dean his barbecue chips and a root beer before dropping your own snacks in your lap. Dean tore into his chips like a hungry bear, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into his mouth. You couldn't help but laugh at him as you opened your own snack.

"So, you gonna tell me why you think John is missing?" you asked, once he had chewed and swallowed.

"I know he's missing. He was hunting something that was killing men, and he left me a concerning voicemail that had some EVP," he explained, "I can let you listen to it when we get to our next destination," you furrowed your brows at his words, but you had a sudden realization.

"You wanna pick up Sam," you said simply.

Dean looked over at you with wide eyes, "how'd you know? You read my mind or somethin'?"

"We're gonna be in California, and we're gonna pass his place anyway. Just an educated guess," you shrugged, "also I'm not a mind reader, I'm a medium," you added.

"It's all the same to me," Dean said with a shrug as he started the impala and pulled out of the gas station; you decided not to lecture him on the differences between psychics and mediums.

"What if he says no?" you asked the question on both your minds after a few moments of silence.

Dean didn't respond, but you knew he had heard you. You looked over to see him expressionless, staring out at the open road.

"Dean?"

"You sure you're not a mind reader?" he tried to joke to change the subject, but you didn't laugh, and he frowned at your furrowed brows, "he won't. Dad's missing and we need his help. He has to say yes," you wondered how many time he had told himself that.

You were at an impasse, which frequently happened when you had to get in the middle of Winchester family drama. A part of you didn't want Sam to say yes. You knew he wanted to give up hunting for good, and you didn't blame him. You only wanted what was best for him, but there was another part of you that wanted him to say yes. You missed him every day. You tried to tell yourself you weren't pulling him all the way back into hunting, that you were just looking for John. A small voice in the back of your head knew better though. You knew this life loved to sink its claws in and never let go. Only a lucky few were able to fully detach themselves from the hunting lifestyle. Even then, it was impossible to scrub the stain of the hunting life off your hands. You weren't sure which answer you wanted Sam to give.

You and Dean sat in silence for awhile, both caught up in your own thoughts. You glanced over at Dean as the song that was playing came to an end. You took in Dean's tense posture, and how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. You recognized the beginning of Black Dog by Led Zeppelin playing quietly through the speakers, and you immediately reached out to turn it up. You were the only person Dean allowed to touch his radio. You rested your arm on the back of the seat and leaned your body into his side slightly.

"Hey hey mama said the way you move. Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove," you sang along loudly into his ear.

You played the air guitar and you saw Dean glance at you from the corner of his eye. You could see him trying to hide his smirk.

"Ah, ah, child, way you shake that thang. Gonna make you burn gonna make you sting," you continued to sing along, gently nudging Dean's side with your elbow.

You saw him start to drum his thumbs against the steering wheel along to the beat as you continued to play air guitar.

"Hey hey baby when you walk that way. Watch your honey drip, can't keep away," you and Dean sang in unison.

You sang along to the rest of the song together. You occasionally played air guitar while Dean pretended to play the drums; you had to remind him to put his hands back on the wheel a few times. The song eventually came to an end, and the next song began playing. Dean reached out and turned it down slightly.

"I missed that," you said with a smile.

"Oh, don't get all sappy on me now," he said with a groan.

"What? No 'chick flick moments'?" you said sarcastically, making air quotes.

"Yeah, exactly. No chick flick moments," Dean repeated seriously.

"Whatever you say... Jackass," you said quietly with a smirk.

"Shithead," Dean was quick with his comeback, and he reached over to pinch your side, but you quickly swatted his hand away while laughing.

There wasn't much tension between you to begin with, but the little bit that had been there faded away with the end of the song. The rest of the long ride was filled with boring games of eye spy and spotting out of state license plates. You were glad to be in the impala with Dean again. You wished it was under better circumstances, but you were excited to see Sam again too.

PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA

The sun had long since set by the time you arrived at Sam's apartment building. You had your window rolled down, the humid California night air made your exposed skin feel sticky, but you enjoyed the breeze. Dean pulled into the parking lot and parked up close to the front door of the building. You both unbuckled your seatbelts, but he put his hand out to stop you from opening your door.

"I'll go get him," he said with a mischievous grin on his face, so you nodded and sat back in your seat, "I'll be quick," he said before hopping out of the impala.

You watched Dean creep up to the front door of the building before he slinked inside and out of view. You leaned out of your open window to take in a deep breath of fresh air. It wasn't a great time to be alone with your thoughts, since all you could think about was that you were seeing Sam again after two years. You had kept in touch over the phone, but it wasn't the same as meeting up in person. Living almost across the country from each made it hard to hang out. At least that's what you told yourself. Sam had asked you to come visit a few months ago, but you had declined. You didn't think you'd be able to face him alone.

You didn't have to be left alone for long though. Before you knew it, you could hear the distant sounds of the brothers bickering. You knew those sounds all too well. You could hear them arguing about something, but you couldn't make you any words. You were about to yell at them to come out when the door finally opened. Dean came out first, Sam following close behind. Sam was gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke, and Dean rolled his eyes. You opened the door and stepped out of the impala, causing both of them to turn and look at you.

"Y/N?" Sam uttered the moment he saw you.

You smiled wide as you shut the passenger door and started walking towards him. It only took Sam a few strides to meet you in the middle with open arms. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight and almost lifting you up off the ground. You stood on your tip toes and hugged him back just as tight, cherishing your first hug after two years apart.

"It's so good to see you," Sam said before pulling away; his smile was gentle and sweet, and you forgot how much you had missed those dimples of his.

"I didn't get a hug when I picked you up," you heard Dean mumble from behind you.

You turned away from Sam to face him. He was stood there pouting slightly with his arms crossed over his chest. You shook your head with an amused smile.

"Oh, sorry Dean. Did you want a hug? I can give you one too," you said a bit teasingly, but only because no matter what answer he gave, you were hugging him.

"No, it's fine-" you had your arms wrapped around his middle before he could finish speaking.

You hugged him tight, and he wrapped his arms loosely around you. He gave you a quick squeeze before patting you softly on the back. You pulled away and he shook his head at you with a small smile before turning towards the trunk.

"Anyway," he mumbled before popping the trunk and lifting the spare tire hatch inside to reveal all his hunting equipment, "where the hell did I put that thing?" he said to himself as he rummaged around the trunk.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked as he leaned against the side of the impala to watch Dean rifle through the disorganized mess.

"I was workin' my own gig. This voodoo thing down in New Orleans" Dean replied without looking up.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"I'm 26, dude," Dean deadpanned, and you laughed.

Sam looked over at you with raised brows, which made you laugh even harder, "shut up, both o' ya's. Alright, found it," Dean picked up a small manila folder and pulled a small stack of papers out.

"Dad was checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy-" Dean handed Sam a piece of paper off the top of the stack; Sam took it and held it out for both of you to see, "they found his car but he'd vanished; completely M.I.A.," there was a photo of a middle aged man next to an article about his disappearance.

"Maybe he was kidnapped?" Sam suggested.

"Kidnapped by a ghost maybe," you joked as you nudged Sam with your elbow.

"Yeah, here's another one in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92," Dean slid a paper off the stack for each year he said, "ten of 'em over the past twenty years," he reached out and snatched the paper from Sam's hand, throwing it back on the stack, "all men, all same 5 mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I get this voicemail yesterday."

Dean reached out and grabbed a tape recorder from off the top of the mess. He pressed play and you could hear John's voice come through the speaker, but it was staticky and garbled.

"Dean.... something-starting to happen...-think it's serious... I need t-... figure out what's going on... Be very careful, Dean.... We're all in danger...," a chill went up your spine as you listened to the message.

"You know there's EVP on that?," Sam said the moment Dean pressed pause.

"Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean said with an amused smirk, and Sam only shook his head at him.

You couldn't focus on their banter, because you knew what was coming next. You stared expectantly down at the tape recorder in Dean's hand. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral.

"You think you'll be able to get anything from a recording?" Dean asked.

"I might get something, we'll just have to see," you replied with a shrug.

"Alright," Dean said before pressing play again.

"I can never go home..." a woman whispered through the static, and you felt another chill up your spine, but this time it was accompanied by a wave of grief and intense anger.

Your hands gripped the edge of the trunk so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Dean looked over at you expectantly but you shook your head at him.

"Nothing helpful," you muttered as you continued to shake your head back and forth, trying to shake away the invasive feelings.

"It's alright," Dean reached out and rubbed your back soothingly for a moment before tossing the tape recorder back into the trunk.

Sam quickly took Dean's place as he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and rubbed your bicep gently. Dean closed the trunk and stood up tall. He looked up at Sam expectantly, who only sighed deeply. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek.

"Alright. I'll go," Sam said finally, "I'll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here," he let his arm fall from around your shoulders and you shivered at the loss of his warmth.

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked as Sam turned to head back to his apartment.

"I have an interview," Sam said simply as he turned back to look at Dean.

"What, a job interview? Skip it."

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate" Sam explained slowly.

"Law school?" Dean asked with a questioning smirk.

"We got a deal or not?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's question.

"Yeah, fine," Dean said after a moment of silence, and you noticed him clench his jaw in annoyance.

Sam nodded and turned to head back into his apartment building. Dean sat on the closed trunk and looked over at you with furrowed brows.

"Did you know about this law school thing?" he asked you.

"Yeah, I did," you told him, honestly.

"You guys talk regularly or something?" you heard a tinge of jealousy in his tone.

"Not all that regularly. We just update each other on major life events occasionally," that wasn't entirely true, but you'd rather not have to sit in a car with the brothers being silently angry at each other.

Dean didn't say anything else, instead he looked down at the ground and nudged a rock with his shoe. You knew Sam and Dean hadn't talked since Sam had left for college. Dean missed his little brother, and you didn't blame him. You just wanted to smack him upside the head for being so stubborn. He certainly wasn't the only Winchester you wanted to knock some sense into.

Sam came back down a few minutes later, emerging from the door of his apartment building carrying a duffel bag that mirrored your own. He tossed his in the trunk as you opened the door to the backseat. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion as he opened the drivers door.

"You don't want shotgun? You had it first, you're welcome to it."

"Nah, I'm alright. Sam always gets shotgun anyway," you said, and Sam shot you a grateful look.

You smiled back at him before getting into the backseat. You pushed your duffel bag to the floor, then you slid to sit in the middle seat, like you always did when it was the three of you. The brothers got into their respective seats before Dean started the impala.

"Alright, get comfortable kids," Dean said as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

A FEW MILES OUTSIDE JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a car door opening and closing. You blinked rapidly as you tried to let your eyes adjust to the sudden light. You lifted your head up off your makeshift pillow that you had made from your balled up jacket. You rubbed your sore neck as you cursed yourself for forgetting a spare blanket or pillow. You somehow always forgot to bring one.

You looked around at the scenery outside the impala. Not that there was much scenery to speak of. It was a clear day, no clouds to block the sun's warm rays. You turned to your left to see a rickety old convenience store, then turned to the right to see a couple gas pumps that looked like they had seen better days. Sam had his door propped open with his foot as he went through Dean's box of cassette tapes that sat on his lap. You could imagine the disgusted face he was making at all of Dean's classic rock tapes. The warm breeze felt refreshing as you worked on waking up.

"Hey," you heard Dean call out, and you turned to your right to see him through the window, "you want breakfast?" he asked Sam, holding up a few beef sticks and a bag of chips; your stomach growled as you saw the food in his hands.

"No, thanks," Sam said, shaking his head before going back to the box of tapes, "so, how'd you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?" Sam called out to Dean.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean replied as he placed the nozzle back in the gas pump.

"You guys probably shouldn't be talking so loud about hunting and credit card scams," you said, loud enough so Dean could hear from outside the car.

The drivers side door opened a moment later and Dean climbed inside, continuing to talk loudly, having not heard or cared about your advice. You looked around and realized there didn't seem to be anyone else at the gas station. You just hoped the clerk didn't hear Dean's noisy confession.

"Y'know, all we do is apply for the cards. It's not our fault they send 'em."

You rolled your eyes at him. He set a soda down in the cup holder, and you reached out and snatched a beef stick from his hand. Dean silently handed you a bottle of water that you hadn't even seen him holding. You took it gratefully before setting it down next to you so you could rip open the wrapper of the beef stick.

"What names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, a bit quieter, taking your advice as he swung his long legs back into the car and pulled the door shut.

"Uh, Burt Aframian. And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal," Dean said as he turned the keys in the ignition.

"That sounds about right," Sam said before looking back down at the box of cassette tapes in his lap, "I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection," he said with a sigh.

"Why?" you almost laughed at how defensive Dean sounded.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two-" Sam paused, grabbing a cassette and holding it up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" he held up a cassette for each band he named, "it's the greatest hits of mullet rock," you were a little offended, considering the fact that you loved those bands too, but you knew Sam was only teasing Dean.

"House rules, Sammy," Dean grabbed the Metallica tape from Sam's hand, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," you couldn't stop your laughter as Dean slotted the tape into the radio and pressed play.

Dean dropped the cassette case back in the box before he reached out and snatched the box from Sam. He tossed it back to you. You caught it with ease, setting it in the seat next to you. You smiled at the masking tape labels and crude handwriting on a majority of them. You spotted one that read 'Happy 21st B-Day D!' and it made you smile.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam started, ignoring your giggles as he turned to Dean, "it's Sam, okay?" he demanded, but in a gentle way that only he could manage.

The music had already began to play, Battery playing softly through the speakers. Dean reached out and slowly turned the knob to increase the volume. Dean raised his voice along with the music.

"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud!" Dean said as he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway.

CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY, CALIFORNIA

Sam gave you the task of calling the hospital in the area for anyone matching John's description, while he called the morgue. It didn't take very long before you hung up the phone, having received the information you needed. You noticed a sign that read 'JERICHO 7' whiz by as Sam ended his call.

"Alright, so there's no one matching dad at the morgue."

"Or the hospital," you added.

"So that's something, I guess," Sam said.

You suddenly felt your chest tighten, and your heartbeat quickened as you seemed to be nearing a bridge. You could see it in the distance, and the only clouds in the sky covered the entire length of it. The dark clouds contrasted against the blue sky. You felt your heart drop at the sight of police cars parked near the bridge. Dean seemed to notice too as he glanced at Sam, then back at the road ahead. You could see a couple cops stood around a blue car that was parked sideways, blocking off the bridge.

"Check it out," Dean said as you neared the action.

Sam leaned forward with narrowed eyes to try to make out more details. As you got closer, it felt like a hand was being wrapped around your throat. You shivered despite the warm California air that was making you sweat. Dean pulled off on the side of the road a couple yards away from the bridge, and you were finally able to take a deep breath. There was a cloud of death that hung over that bridge.

You all sat there and watched for a few moments before Dean turned off the impala. Suddenly, he reached over and opened the glovebox. He grabbed out a small box full of fake ID cards that had his and John's pictures on them. You sighed and leaned back in your seat.

"They're gonna get suspicious if all three of us go up," you said as Dean rifled through the box.

"Then stay in the car," he answered quickly, not looking up.

"I have to get to the bridge to get anything."

"Then just go to the edge of the bridge and do your thing while Sam and I go talk to them," Dean said as he pulled out an ID from the pile before shoving the box back in the glovebox, "let's go," he said as he opened his door and climbed out of the impala.

Sam turned to you with his mouth hung open in surprise, "fake ID's? Really?" he asked, obviously annoyed with Dean.

"They're helpful," you said with a nod, "I don't like using them all that much, though," you added quickly when he shook his head disapprovingly.

The air felt heavy as you stepped out of the impala. You couldn't pinpoint how many people had died on that bridge, but you knew it had to be many. At least one, by the looks of the empty car and confused looking cops. Sam's door shutting loudly made you force yourself to start walking. You and Sam caught up with Dean, and you took your usual place in-between the brothers, walking quickly to keep in stride with them.

"You guys find anything?" you heard a man on the right side of the bridge yell down to what you assumed were men combing the river.

"No! Nothing!" was the distant and echoed response.

Once you reached the beginning of the bridge, you slowed and departed from the brothers, heading to the left. Sam and Dean continued walking toward the blue car and the cops. You heard them begin talking with the officers, but their voices faded away as you neared the edge of the bridge. You reached out and placed your hands on the railing, using them to brace yourself as you leaned over to look down into the rushing river water.

A wave of anger washed over you, similar to the one you had felt before, when you listened to the EVP on John's voicemail. It was accompanied by a bitter sadness, and this time it was much more intense. It suddenly shifted into grief, then all you felt was cold, as if someone had dumped a bucket of the river water on your head. You shivered as a name appeared in your mind. You turned quickly to look for Sam and Dean, spotting them walking back toward the start of the bridge. You began to speed walk over to them. You watched Dean take step in front of Sam, and turned to face him as they stopped walking. They looked like they are arguing again. You shook your head as you stomped over.

"I need a pen," you demanded as you walked up to them.

"Woah, are you okay?" Sam said as he look at you, concern etched into his features.

"I'm fine, I just need a pen," you repeated, "I got a name."

"Y/N, you're crying," Sam said as he pulled his sleeve up over his thumb and wiped your left cheek while you reached up and wiped you right; sure enough there was a trail were tears had streamed down your face.

"I didn't even know I was. I don't think it was really me crying, anyway. She made me feel how she felt before she died, if that makes any sense," you rambled on as Sam wiped the rest of your tears away before taking a step back, and you didn't fail to notice the raised eyebrow look Dean gave you and Sam.

You were about to raise your hand to hit Dean on the arm, but you heard an authoritative voice come from your right that stopped you, "can I help you three?"

You turned to see the sheriff with two tall FBI agents standing behind him. All three of them stared down at you through their sunglasses. You typically didn't let cops rattle you, but the FBI were a different story. You did your best to stand up tall and stare them down right back. The sheriff looked the three of you over, his eyes landing on you.

"No, sir. We were just leaving," Dean told him.

The FBI agents didn't seem to have time for you, as they ignored Dean and walked around him, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully," Dean joked as they passed him.

You wound back and slapped him in the arm. He laughed and rubbed his bicep as the three of you walked past the sheriff. You could feel his eyes on you as you left. Dean finally pulled out a pen and handed it to you as you walked back to the impala. You spread out your palm and wrote down the name you had been given earlier.

"Constance Welch," you said to them as you held your hand out for both of them to see.

"Who's that?" Dean asked.

"The girl who made me cry," you tried to make a joke out of it, but Sam's lips pressed into a thin line, and his brows furrowed; he never liked when the ghosts affected you like that, "I think she's the spirit that's killing the guys," you added, quickly.

"Well, we'll have to go dig up some more information. They mentioned something about the girlfriend of the kid who died. We can go talk to her and ask her a couple questions, try to figure out why he was killed," Dean explained as the three of you got into the impala.

"Are we gonna go wave fake badges in her face?" you asked, not sure if that was the best idea, "maybe Sam and I can talk to her while you go look up Constance," you suggested, and Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror before nodding.

"Alright, fine. But I better not get stuck with the busywork next time," he said with a huff.

JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

The sidewalks were mostly empty as the impala slowly rolled down the main road of town. It was still fairly early in the day, but you expected more people to be out. It was the weekend after all. When you saw the sign above the closed movie theater, it made sense why the streets were mostly barren. 'EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING; SUNDAY 8 PM; BE SAFE OUT THERE,' was the message to all the townsfolk.

"I'll bet you that's her," Dean nodded to a girl taping a pink paper on the brick wall just to the left of the theater.

Dean drove a few more feet before pulling up to the side of the road. You and Sam hopped out, and you leaned down to look at Dean through the open passenger door.

"I'll call you when we're done," you told him and he nodded.

You stood up straight and Sam shut his door. You turned and walked the few steps toward the girl. You tried not to seem too intimidating, but with Sam standing at 6'4, that was a bit of a challenge. You hoped his young face and signature puppy dog eyes would help your cause. She taped a missing poster to the wall that read 'MISSING TROY SQUIRE' underneath a smiling photo of Troy. You noticed the other missing posters that were hung up too, and you quickly realized they were all of the pervious victims you had seen in Dean's file.

"You must be Amy," you said as you approached her.

"Yeah," she replied flatly, not looking up as she secured the paper to the wall with another piece of tape.

"Yeah, Troy must have told you about us. I'm his aunt Y/N, and this is his uncle Sam," you explained to the girl with a smile.

"He never mentioned you to me," she said before turning and walking away, but you were quick to walk in stride with her.

"Well, that's Troy I guess," you said, adding in a fake chuckle, "we're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"We're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam said as he took a step in front of her to stop her from walking any further.

Another girl came up to Amy, gently placing a hand on her arm, "hey, are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Amy said with a nod, never taking her eyes off Sam.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" he asked her, and she nodded.

Amy and her friend, who introduced herself as Rachel, led you down the street to a diner. It was mostly empty, other than an older couple sitting at a booth in the back right. You also noticed a seemingly bored waitress standing by the counter. She barely even noticed the four of you walk in, too busy looking down at her cellphone. Amy and Rachel slid into a booth in the far left of the diner. You and Sam slid into the side opposite them. Amy waved down the waitress and you and Sam ordered coffee, while the girls ordered sodas.

"What happened the night Troy disappeared?" you asked her gently.

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did," she told you, on the verge of tears.

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked.

"No. Nothing I can remember."

Amy fidgeted nervously with the charm of her necklace; it was a black pentagram. Sam took the words right out of your mouth before you could speak them.

"I like your necklace."

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents," She laughed, "with all that devil stuff."

You and Sam both chuckled. He glanced at you, and you shared a look of understanding.

"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Sam explained to Amy.

"Did Troy believe in or practice anything satanic? Or was the necklace just a harmless gift?" you asked her, trying to get any sort of lead.

"It was a just a gift. I think he ordered it off the internet," she told you with a shrug.

"Well, the way Troy disappeared, somethin's not right. If either of you know anything..." Sam trailed off.

Amy and Rachel slowly turned and looked at each other.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," Rachel replied.

You and Sam spoke in tandem, "what do they talk about?" you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed Sam always knowing what you were going to say.

Rachel paused, glancing over at Amy before she rested her elbows on the table and leaned in, speaking quietly, "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago," the name Constance Welch flashed in your mind as Rachel spoke, "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever," you glanced over at Sam who was listening intently.

"Well, let's hope it's just a legend, yeah? Thank you for answering our questions. If you think of anything else that could help," you paused as you grabbed a napkin from the holder and pulled out the pen that Dean had given you earlier, "don't be afraid to call," you wrote your phone number down on the napkin and handed it to her, smiling warmly.

"Thank you for your time," Sam said and you almost laughed at how diplomatic he sounded.

You and Sam slid out of the booth and headed for the front door. The bell above the door dinged as Sam opened it, letting you go through first. You noticed the sun starting to slowly slip below the horizon. The breeze didn't do much to cool you off, the humid air making your forehead slick with sweat. You used the back of your hand to wipe off as much moisture from your face as you could. You gestured for Sam to follow you as you started walking down the road toward the motel you had seen earlier. You pulled your cell phone out as you walked and flipped it open, quickly finding Dean's contact. You pressed call and brought the phone up to your ear. It rang twice before he picked up.

"You get anything?" he asked you eagerly.

You didn't think twice about his lack of greeting, instead you answered his question immediately, "you probably got more than we did. We got told a local legend of a woman who was murdered on Centennial, and her ghost hitchhikes and picks up poor suckers who never get seen again," you told him, but you had a feeling he was going to fill you in on the missing pieces.

"They almost got it right. Funny how much a story can change over twenty years" Dean said, more to himself than to you.

"Hold on," you said before pulling the phone away from your ear and putting him on speakerphone, "What actually happened?" you asked him.

"She committed suicide. Jumped off the bridge where they found that kids car."

"So it's gotta be her... Did it say why she did it?"

Dean sighed sadly, "the article said she left her kids in the bathtub and they drowned. She had called 911 but it had already been too late. They found her an hour later in the river."

"Geez, no wonder I felt so much grief," you muttered, more to yourself, but Sam heard it all too clearly, "did the article say where she's buried?" you asked, deciding to ignore the concerned look Sam was giving you.

"No, but it had her husbands name. Joseph Welch. If we find him I'm sure he can tell us where she's buried."

"Alright. It's getting late, though. We can meet at the motel we passed earlier and get a room for the night," you said, realizing how much your body was aching.

"Want me to head back and pick you guys up?"

"Nah, we're almost there. I can see it. Just meet us there."

"Will do. See you soon."

"See you soon," you echoed before closing your phone and shoving it back in your pocket.

There was a long pause before Sam spoke, "Are you feeling okay?"

Sam knew how drained you could feel after channeling a ghost like you did on the bridge, especially an extremely vengeful spirit like Constance. The more you thought about how exhausted you were, your limbs felt heavier.

"I'm alright, just tired," you told him, but you could see in his furrowed brow expression that he didn't believe you, "a few hours of sleep should fix me right up," you added, somewhat sarcastically.

You had just made it to the front office when you heard the all too familiar roar of the impala's engine. You turned to see Dean pull into the parking lot and park in the first parking spot he could find. He hopped out with a gloating smile, happy that he had uncovered more than the two of you. You wanted to remind him who got the name in the first place.

"Lets just get a room," you said before Dean could start gloating aloud.

The three of you walked into the office of the motel. An older looking gentleman was stood behind the counter with a polite smile. Dean pulled his fake credit card out of his wallet and dropped it down on the counter.

"One room, please," he told the clerk, his proud smile still spread wide across his face.

The man picked up the fake credit card, looking down at it before glancing up at Dean, "you guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked him.

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month," Sam and Dean shared a look.

"Which room was it?" you asked sweetly, hoping the man didn't get too suspicious.

"Number one. I only remember because he was so damn adamant about having it," he told you as he ran Dean's credit card and handed it back along with your room key.

"Thank you," you said before practically dragging the brothers out of the office, "let's get settled into our room, then we can check out John's room in a little bit. That guy might be keeping an eye out."

Sam and Dean agreed. The three of you grabbed your bags from the impala before bringing them to your room. You waited for the sun to fully set before the three of you started getting impatient. You were the first one out the door, checking to make sure that the coast was clear before the brothers followed. You walked down to the door of room one, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean, your backs to the door as Sam knelt down to pick the lock. It only took him about thirty seconds before you heard the lock click from behind you. You turned as Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder, yanking him back into the room. You stepped in quickly after. Sam shut the door behind you as your eyes scanned the room.

"Woah," you mumbled as you both looked around the room.

There were newspaper clippings, printed articles, and photos hung on almost every inch of the walls of the motel room. There are books and papers scattered across every surface. Dean flicked a lamp on, leaning down to sniff a discarded burger underneath the light. He recoiled in disgust.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," Dean observed.

"I think you're right," you replied as you walked to the far wall, making sure to step over the salt line that blocked the door.

Sam leaned down and poked at the salt on the floor, "salt, cats eye shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in," he said as he stood up straight, before walking over to stand by Dean, "what have you got here?" Sam asked his brother, who was looking at a line of papers hung up on the wall.

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean replied, looking over the obituaries to make sure there weren't any he'd missed, "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities," Sam crossed the room to stand next to you as Dean spoke, "there's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

You and Sam noticed the photos and papers hung on the wall in front of you, and it confirmed what you had already been suspicious of. Sam reached out and turned on the lamp in front of you.

"Dad figured it out," Sam said simply.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he turned.

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch," Sam said, pointing at the article hung on the wall.

"She's a woman in white," you said when Dean's brows furrowed in confusion.

"You sly dogs," Dean said as he looked back at the articles of the missing men.

"The caption of the photo says Joseph Welch was thirty. The article dates to 1981, so he must be..." you paused, doing the math in your head, "sixty-four!" you said, hopeful.

"If he's still alive," Sam spoke what was on all your minds.

"We can worry about it tomorrow. I need at least a couple hours so I don't fall over," you said, a yawn enunciating your words.

"Didn't get enough beauty sleep in the car? You had the whole backseat to yourself," Dean teased as he walked to the door.

"That backseat is not as comfy for sleeping as you think it is," you protested as you stepped over the salt line.

"Better than nothing," Dean was just trying to piss you off, but unfortunately it was working.

"Well, no shit, jackass. But my neck is killing me and I'd love to sleep in a real bed," you pushed past Dean and out the door, checking to make sure no one was outside before leaving.

You got into the room first, taking your opportunity to enter the bathroom and have a quick shower before Dean used up all the hot water. You had the water running and the door closed when you heard Sam and Dean enter the room. You could heard Dean's muffled voice from the other side of the door You heard only a garbled mess of words until you heard your name. You quietly crept up to the bathroom door, pressing your ear up against it. Their voices were quieter now, but you were sure you had heard Dean say your name. You decided it probably wasn't best to ease drop. You couldn't hear what they were saying anyway. You gave up, stepping away from the door and continuing with your shower.

Dean was already passed out in one of the two king sized beds by the time you were out of the bathroom. You chuckled at his loud snoring as you stuffed your dirty clothes into your duffel bag. Sam was sat at the small table near the window, looking down at his phone. You stood awkwardly, wringing your hands as you contemplated what to say or do.

"The bathroom's free if you want to take a shower," you said finally.

Sam jumped slightly, looking a bit startled. He hadn't noticed you come out of the bathroom. Were you that sneaky or was he that distracted? You guessed it was a bit of both.

"Oh, thanks, but I'm good."

"Alright," you glanced at Dean, then back at Sam, "I don't think you'll want to share with him, so you can share with me," you felt your ears warming up but you did your best to ignore it.

"After having to sit in the front seat with him all day, I'd rather not have to deal with him hogging the covers all night. Thank you," Sam said gratefully, but he made no move to get into the bed, instead looking back down at his phone.

You nodded before walking over to the empty bed, laying on the right side. You left the side facing Dean's bed for Sam.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on the floor, your father's head in your lap. Your hands are slick with his blood as you hold the sides of his face.

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted awake, sitting up straight as you looked around your unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyes met Sam's as he stood next to the bed, his hand on your shoulder.

"Nightmare?" you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears.

You nodded as you took in a shaky breath. Sam's hand moved to your back, rubbing in soft circles. It actually helped ground you, and you were able to catch your breath fairly quickly. Dean came out of the bathroom as Sam let his hand fall from your back.

"You okay?" he asked you and you nodded quickly.

"I'm just gonna get ready," you mumbled, feeling awkward having both of them looking at you worriedly.

You stood and walked over to your duffel bag, grabbing out a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom. You could hear Sam and Dean's hushed voices as you got dressed. They went silent a few moments before you exited the bathroom. Sam was sat on the bed as he listened to a voicemail from who you assumed to be Jessica. You watched Dean pull on his jacket.

"Hey, man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street. You want anything?" Dean asked Sam.

"No," he replied.

"Aframian's buying," Dean joked.

Sam only shook his head, and Dean sighed, turning to you.

"You hungry? Wanna go get some greasy diner food?" he asked enthusiastically.

"For breakfast? I'm hoping for some pancakes or something," you said as you looked around for your own jacket, "we'll see you in a bit, Sam," you stopped yourself from calling him 'Sammy,' but you can see in his eyes that he caught your almost slip up.

"Mhm," he hummed in response as you and Dean headed out the door.

You walked with Dean across the parking lot toward the impala. You looked to the right when you felt someone looking at you. You saw the motel clerk talking with a couple cops. The clerk pointed at you and Dean when he saw you.

"Shit," you muttered as you turned to face away from the cops.

Dean mirrored your movements, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as he pulled his phone out, "dude, five-o. Take off," you heard Dean say into the phone.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, "uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad," Dean closed his phone and stuck it in his jacket pocket before the he spun around to face the cops, bumping your shoulder with his to make you turn around too.

"Problem, officers?" Dean said with a shit eating grin that you wanted to smack right off his face.

"Where's your partner?" the cop crossed his arms over his chest as he looked from Dean to you, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Partner? What, what partner?" Dean asked innocently.

The cop jerked his thumb toward your motel room, silently ordering his partner to search the room. He obeyed, walking to the door before opening it and going inside. You felt your palms begin to sweat as you watched him enter the room, worried that he would come back out with Sam in handcuffs. Your eyes darted back toward the cop standing in front of you. He stood still as a statue, staring you down. You did your best to stand your ground and try not seem a nervous as you were.

"So, fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?" the cop asked Dean.

Dean paused, as if debating his response, "My boobs," he finally replied with a toothy grin that showed he was satisfied with his answer.

The cop shoved Dean's shoulder roughly, forcing him to turn around. He pressed his hand in between Dean's shoulder blades, slamming him down against the hood of the car with a thud while his other hand went to his belt to grab his cuffs.

"Turn around with your hands against the hood of the car, please," the cop ordered you through gritted teeth.

You did what he said, not wanting to piss him off anymore than Dean had already done. He cuffed Dean before cuffing you, pressing your cheek against the hood of the impala. You must have looked incredibly annoyed, because Dean's slightly amused smile quickly disappeared.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," the cop read you your rights as you continued to glare at Dean.

You always hated dealing with the cops. Everytime Dean got the two of you arrested, you hated them even more. Cops didn't believe in monsters and ghosts, so they were always a hinderance, rather than a help. You had a funny feeling that this sheriff was going to get on your nerves. They had thrown you and Dean in separate interview rooms. The sheriff had asked your name and age, which you gave fake answers to both. He had left you to go interrogate Dean.

He was gone for a few minutes before he entered the room again. He was holding a file box full of papers and folders. You assumed they were the things that had been hung up on the walls of John's motel room. He dropped it onto the table before dropping down a notebook in front of you. You immediately recognized it, but you did your best to make sure your face didn't reflect that.

"So you want to give me your real name?" he asked as he leaned against the table.

"I already told you. It's Sandra Nugent," you reiterated to the sheriff, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

"You could be in a lot of trouble here, you know that? Unless you cooperate with me. If you tell me what your boyfriend and his partners have been doing, maybe I can help you out," you wanted to laugh at how desperate he sounded.

"You don't have any evidence on us," you replied stubbornly.

"Ya'll got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall. Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. You and your buddy in there are officially suspects."

"Right, because when the first one went missing in '82, before I was even born," you deadpanned.

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me... Y/N is it?" you must have looked surprised, because he opened John's notebook that was sat on the table and began flipping through it slowly, "I thought that might be your name. I got Dean's name fairly quickly, but yours I wasn't so sure about. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out. I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy," he flipped through until he was almost at the end, stopping and leaning back so you could see the page he had flipped to, "but I found this, too."

You looked down at the page. It was mostly blank other than Deans name scrawled in John's handwriting, along with 35-111 underneath it. The message was circled hastily.

"No one is going anywhere until one of you can tell me what the hell that means," he tapped the message on the paper with his index finger.

"I don't know what it means. It looks like it might be a locker combo or something," you said with a shrug.

The sheriff was getting red faced, and you were sure Dean had told him the same things. This wasn't your first rodeo. Before he could question you any more, there was a knock at the door. It opened a second later. A young cop stuck his head into the room.

"We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road," he told the sheriff.

"You have to go to the bathroom?" the Sheriff asked you.

"No," you replied.

"Good."

He promptly cuffed you to the table. You struggled against the cuffs slightly, the metal digging into the skin of your wrist. The sheriff left and shut the door behind him. Through the small window in the interrogation room door, you could see all the cops scrambling to leave. You looked around, trying to find a way out, when you noticed a paper clip sticking out of John's journal.

You reached out and grabbed it. You unbent it and used it to pick the lock on your handcuffs. You did your best to remember what Sam taught you, and soon you were free. You grabbed John's journal off the table and crept over to the door. You peered through the small window and waited until all the cops had cleared out before trying the door. It was surprisingly unlocked. You went to the interrogation room next door, opening it to reveal Dean handcuffed to the table.

"Well look at you, ya' little escape artist! How did you manage that?" Dean asked as you entered the room.

You held up the straightened paper clip for him to see before getting to work on unlocking his handcuffs. He laughed in amusement as you freed him.

"He made it pretty easy," you said with a shrug, handing him John's journal, "now come on, let's get outta here before they come back."

The two of you crept through the police station, careful not to let anyone see you. It seemed like they had all hands on deck though, because the place looked almost deserted. You managed to find your cell phones on the sheriff's desk. You were sure the receptionist would still be at the front desk, so you searched around for window or a back exit. You quickly found a window that let to the fire escape.

You unlocked it and pulled it open before climbing out onto the fire escape. You gestured for Dean to follow, and he did so without hesitation. Dean climbed down first before you climbed down after him. The two of you made sure the coast was clear of any cop cars before walking down the sidewalk, headed for the town exit. You weren't sure which way Sam had gone or where he was, but you needed to get the hell out of dodge before the cops found you again. The sidewalk ended at the exit of town, and Dean pulled his cellphone out to call Sam.

"Fake 911 phone call? I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal," he said as he put it on speakerphone so you could hear Sam too.

"You're welcome," Sam's voice came through the shitty speaker of Deans phone.

"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean started, but Sam was quick to reply.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop," Sam explained.

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?" Dean tried to stop his brother from speaking.

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's words.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

"We've got his journal," you told him.

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam said slowly.

"Yeah, well, he did this time," Dean said.

"What's it say?" Sam asked.

"The same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates," Sam said, immediately understanding what Dean meant, "Where to?"

"We aren't sure yet. We didn't have much time to look while we were running from the cops," you said, annoyance evident in your tone, but it was more directed at Dean.

"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? What the hell is going on?"

You heard the screech of tires skidding on the road through the phone before a quiet thud.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean yelled into the phone frantically.

"Take me home," you heard Constance's soft voice come through the phone, and your hand flew up to clutch your head as the image of a house appeared in your mind.

"Y/N? What is it? Are you alright?" Dean stopped walking to put his hand on your shoulder.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight as you examined the house. It felt like a memory, but you knew you had never seen the house before. You quickly realized it had to be a memory from Constance. It must be her old house where Sam said she was buried.

"The house," you said, "We have to go to the house. That's where she's taking him," you said as you opened your eyes and lifted your head to look at Dean.

"We don't know where the house is!" he cried out, more in fear than in anger.

"I do. Follow me," you didn't elaborate and instead you turned and started jogging, knowing the house wasn't too far from you.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dean asked as he easily caught up to jog next to you.

"I'm fine, but Sam isn't gonna be if we don't hurry up," you said before picking up the pace.

You and Dean were now running as fast as your legs could manage. You eventually cut through the tree line, coming out into a clearing. You could see the house in the distance, with the impala stopped out front. You could see Sam sitting in the front seat. As you got closer, you could see the ghostly figure above Sam. You quickly recognized the long wavy hair to belong to Constance.

"Cover your ears!" Dean shouted as you ran.

Your hands flew up to cover ears. You had been hunting with the Winchester brothers long enough to know that if one of them said to do something, you did it without question. You heard the muffled sound of a gun shot as you saw the front windows of the impala shatter. Constance disappeared for a moment before reappearing, turning to glare at the two of you. You felt your spine shudder in fear at the anger that radiated off her. Dean continued to shoot until she disappeared for good. You had just made it to the impala when you saw Sam sit up. He reached out and turned the keys in the ignition, making the car rumble to life.

"I'm taking you home," he said breathlessly before he pressed on the gas.

"Sam!" Dean yelled after him as the impala lurched forward and smashed through the front wall of the house with a loud crash.

You and Dean ran up the porch stairs and through the now giant hole in the side of the house. You stepped over the rubble and toward the impala that had stopped in the middle of what looked to be the remnants of a living room.

"Sam?" Dean called out as he ran to the passenger side of the car, "Sam! You okay?" Dean asked as he leaned in through the window.

"I think..." you heard Sam say from inside the car as you walked over.

"Can you move?" Dean asked as he tried to get the passenger door open.

"Yeah. Help me?"

Dean yanked the passenger door open before leaning inside the car and reaching out for Sam. He pulled him out and up onto his feet and brushed the dust off his shoulders.

"There you go," Dean said.

The three of you turned and saw Constance on the other side of the room, holding a large framed photo. She finally noticed you, glaring daggers as she threw the picture to the floor. It clattered loudly as the three of you stared dumbly. Suddenly, her hand lifted and she made a gesture that caused a dresser to slide across the room and pin you against the side of the impala. The wind got knocked out of you as you tried to push the dresser away, but there was an unseen force holding it in place. Sam and Dean were too stubborn to stop trying. Constance took a step forward, a look of malice in her eyes. You were anticipating her next move, when suddenly the lights flickered and buzzed. You watched Constance turn and walk to the base of the stairs that now had water pouring down them like a waterfall.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," you heard a boy and girl say in unison.

Suddenly, the spirits of Constance's children appeared behind her. They wrapped their arms around her in one final hug as the lights surged. You shielded your eyes as Constance screamed. You watched from under your forearm as the three of their spirits sunk slowly into the floor, disappearing and leaving only a puddle of water behind. Sam and Dean pushed the dresser over, and it clattered loudly to the floor. It kicked up a cloud of dust that made you cough. You walked over to examine the puddle, Sam and Dean close behind you. You all stared down at the floor in silence, trying to collect your thoughts. You were trying to brush off the residual rage that Constance had left behind.

"So this is where she drowned her kids," Dean said, breaking the silence.

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them," Sam confirmed.

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy," Dean clapped Sam on the chest where Constance had dug her fingers into his chest, presumably to rip out his heart; Sam laughed through the pain it caused him.

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," you added.

"Hey. Saved your ass," Dean said he walked over to the impala, leaning down to inspect the damage, "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" he turned to point at Sam menacingly, "I'll kill you," Sam laughed as you gave Dean a 'what the fuck?' look.

"You literally shot the windows out! I doubt Sam did more damage than you did to your own car," you said as you walked over to stand next to Dean, noticing the busted out headlight.

Fortunately, the impala still ran. The front windows were shattered, and the right headlight needed replacing, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed. She'd been through worse, is what Dean had said.

~~~~~~~~~

You were leaned over the backrest of Sam's seat, looking at the map he had sitting open in his lap. He was trying to find the location of the coordinates that John had left. It didn't take him long to circle a spot on the map.

"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," Sam said and Dean nodded.

"Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked.

"About six hundred miles," Sam replied.

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by tonight!" Dean said excitedly.

"Dean, I, um..." Sam trailed off, and you sat back in your seat, knowing where this was going.

"You're not going," Dean said simply.

"The interview's tomorrow morning. I gotta be there."

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home."

You had the sudden realization that your bags were still in your motel room. It wasn't difficult to convince Dean to drive back to the motel. You and Sam managed to sneak in and grab your stuff without being spotted. Dean sped to the highway to make sure the cops didn't catch you again.

None of you spoke for the rest of the drive. It was only a few hours, and the sun had set by the time you had arrived at Sam's apartment complex. Dean stopped out front and Sam opened the door and got out, shutting it behind him. He turned to lean in through the window as you climbed over the backrest to sit in the front seat. Once you were sat, you looked over at Sam, noticing how close he was.

"Call me if you find him?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded, "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" his eyes went from Dean to you, and you nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, all right," Dean replied, still frowning slightly.

Sam patted the door twice, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stood up straight. He turned around and started to walk away. Dean set his arm on the backrest behind you, leaning forward slightly to look out the passenger window.

"Sam?" Dean called out.

Sam looked over his shoulder, "yeah?"

"You know, we all made a hell of a team back there," he said with a smirk, glancing at you.

Sam nodded with a small smile before Dean turned back to look at the road as he pressed on the gas. You didn't dare turn to look, instead you tried to catch a glimpse of Sam in the crooked side mirror. You could see his tall figure looming in the shadows. There was a sense of foreboding that you couldn't shake as you drove away. You were only on the road for a few minutes. Sam's apartment building had just barely faded in the distance. You turned and saw Dean's furrowed brows as he glanced between his watch and the road.

"What?" you questioned him.

"I think my watch stopped working."

A wave of dread washed over you as your heart dropped into your stomach. It felt like every inch of your skin was covered in goosebumps. You swallowed hard around the lump rising in your throat.

"Dean, turn around and go back. Now," you said firmly.

Dean didn't have to be told twice. He immediately pulled a u-turn and headed back toward Sam's apartment. You could feel the evil radiating off the building even before you saw it come into view. Dean pressed down on the gas harder, going well above the speed limit. He pulled into the parking lot and skidded to a stop in front of the door. You both hopped out of the impala but he stopped you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he said quickly before turning and running into the building.

You looked up to see flames and smoke emitting from an upstairs window. Your stomach churned as you pulled out your phone to call 911. You put the phone to your ear, and spoke to the operator about the fire, who told you they were sending a fire truck. You could hear the fire alarm going off before Sam and Dean even made it outside. Just as your chest was starting to ache with worry, you saw them emerge, Dean practically dragging Sam along. Sam fell into your waiting arms, and you used all your strength to keep him somewhat standing. He had wrapped his arms around you and had shoved his face into the crook of your neck. Dean stood a few feet away, coughing loudly. He put up his hand and made it into a faux phone, shaking it next to his ear with furrowed brows, silently asking if you had called the police. You nodded as you hugged Sam tightly, rubbing his back with one hand and petting his hair softly with the other.

The fire fighters didn't take long to get there. They managed to tame the flames fairly quickly, leaving most of the apartment complex intact. Sam had detached from you before they had arrived, wiping his eyes and sitting on the trunk of the impala. He didn't speak a word to you. Only when Sam was talking with the cops was when you got part of the story from Dean.

"She was... on the ceiling," he told you slowly.

"Like... Like how your mom died?" you asked gently.

Dean nodded and you felt your chest tighten as your heart rate quickened. You shook your head as you looked over to the building. Smoke was still billowing out into the night sky, blocking the few stars you could see from view. You and Dean were stood side by side at the back of the crowd of onlookers that had grown at the edge of the police tape. The red lights of the fire truck were still flashing, and they were starting to give you a headache. You turned away from the building to head back to the impala. Dean had pulled it off to the side of the road a few yards away. Sam was stood in front of the open trunk. You saw him loading a shotgun as you approached.

You didn't want to pity him, knowing it would only make him feel worse. When you saw the tear stains down his cheeks, you couldn't stop the sympathetic smile you gave him. He smiled weakly at you. Dean walked up next, giving Sam a look you couldn't place. You knew all the Winchester looks, but this one was foreign to you. Sam nodded at him before letting out shuddering breath, obviously knowing what his brother's look meant. You appreciated them getting along, but you didn't like to be excluded. Under different circumstances, you would have pestered them until they told you what telepathic messages they were sending each other. Instead, you stayed quiet, watching as Sam threw the now loaded shotgun into the trunk.

"We got work to do," he said before slamming the trunk shut.

#userbored-writer101 #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural season 1 #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #john winchester #bobby singer #supernatural rewrite #supernatural x reader rewrite #pilot #female reader #gender neutral pronouns

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lelelego · 1 year

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number 7 for the Boss ask meme? 🥰

aka question we probably know the answer to but will never tire of hearing/seeing more about 😉

DSUIGFSDSF and here i am falling for it hook line AND stinker

(breakdancing gently) do YOU have questions about my boss

7. Do you have an OTP/OT3+/endgame pairing etc. with them?

if you didn't already know despite me being ginormously obvious about it, adrià's endgame pairing-wise is gat :^) i'm just gonna take this opp to talk about their relationship start to end

tl;dr: in sr1 adrià admires him and they become best friends (which is just boss canon); sr2, they become each others' rocks, become fwbs (comic incoming!); sometime in a re-written srtt they get together, probably after one of them almost dies

in sr1 adrià REALLY looks up to gat. like this post says, boss sees gat as this badass guy. at first, adrià, who after being abandoned by everyone he trusts and not knowing when he's going to eat next, follows dex around like a lost dog lmao because while julius is completely unreachable (at first) dex is adrià's bedrock - planning ahead is just so FUCKIN sexy. so when johnny and dex get into it, adrià was very fast to defend dex LMAOOO to the point i imagine johnny was about to beat adrià's ass in, but after working together they rapidly become best friends, adrià loving his ruthlessness and not fucking around when it matters. and his loyalty is INFECTIOUS

now when sr2 starts, uh oh! adrià, bitter and angry, can't trust anyone anymore i guess! except for johnny. johnny is his one rock - carlos was kind of becoming that too, adrià thinking he could be this kid's johnny, except we all saw what happened to that. but johnny is in adrià's eyes unkillable. he won't ever stop being a saint and even when everything burns down around them the two of them are still going to be standing. i imagine when aisha dies, it's kind of the same for johnny. the only thing he can rely on in his life beyond himself is the boss. die-hard loyal!!

sometime in sr2 they become fwbs (comic incoming!!!). it happens one night, and afterwards it just becomes something they do on the reg.

i think then between that and sometime in a re-written srtt, the amount of people they sleep with just eventually dwindles to 1 - each other. because it's reliable. it's always there. they don't have to go somewhere or use some app and talk someone up. it's free (lol). they know each other like their favorite gun. adrià notices first and falls first, kind of an "oh." moment when they're waking up in the same bed one day, when adrià goes to the bathroom and notices two toothbrushes, two towels, johnny's hair gel... or something like not liking it when one of the saints hit on johnny and pierce having to ask him to calm down

it probably takes a lot longer for johnny "dense ass motherfucker" gat to notice, and something has to kind of knock him over the head for him to figure it out (imo either one of them almost-dying is probably the catalyst), but yeah! endgame 8^)

i'm SO SORRY this got so long but to anyone who got here i hope you enjoyed :>

#gatboss #ask game tag #saints row tag #oc: adrià #doodly thingy #asks #anonymous #I SEE YOU... I SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING... AND I LOVE IT #also i sketched 2 things out for this and was like hmm actually i want this to be standalone so like. win/win ig

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epickiya722 · 2 years

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i had a feeling burnin & miruko were gonna get asked didnfjdn so another one! midnight & ms. joke?

and if that's taken: vlad king & hound dog?

Neither hasn't been asked actually!!! And you know what, I'll do both!!

Midjoke - 💄

HoundKing - 🐶

Who’s the cuddler?

💄 I can see both women as cuddlers, but Ms. Joke being the biggest of the two. She'll the most in need for cuddles.

🐶 Definitely Hound Dog. Big dog man he may be, but damn it he is a total puppy. He would definitely be the cuddler out the two. Craves cuddles after a long day being a guidance counselor.

Who makes the bed?

💄 I feel like both actually wouldn't mind having a messy bed. The pillows already in the positions they want them to be after a long day? Yes! But Midnight would be the one to make the bed.

🐶 Vlad King just screams neat freak to me. The moment the bed is vacant, he's already grabbing the sheets and tightening them around the mattress. Meanwhile Hound Dog stands there wondering how someone is so eager to fix a bed.

Who wakes up first?

💄 I see both waking up at the same time, both being teachers and Pro Heroes, they're used to it. Ms. Joke wouldn't need an alarm clock though. It's like she wakes up, already has a smile in her face and Midnight is just groggy and wants to sleep in.

🐶 Again, I see both, But Hound Dog would probably be the one to wake up just a few minutes earlier than Vlad King. He may not make the bed, but he will cook a mean breakfast.

Who has the weird taste in music?

💄Ms. Joke, definitely Ms. Joke. And it will be songs no one is sure where she even heard it. It will be a song that start off all soft and then by the end of it, it's chaos.

🐶 Vlad King would probably be the one. No one expects him to listen to funky pop music. Hound Dog would probably like soothing instrumental music though.

Who is more protective?

💄I feel like Ms. Joke would be the more protective one. She doesn't like how some people treats Midnight sometimes and she's all for throwing hands if she must.

🐶 I can see Hound Dog being protectively physically while Vlad King, who understands him a lot better than others, is protective of Hound Dog's mental and emotional state.

Who sings in the shower?

💄Neither sing in the shower when they aren't together, but if they shower together there will be a duet of cheesy romance songs until the water turns cold.

🐶 Vlad King does. I bet he has a damn good singing voice, too. Hound Dog comes off as the more quiet of the two, just only getting loud when his emotions get the better of him. Vlad, just looks like he can sing his soul out and Hound Dog loves it.

Who cries during movies?

💄I can see Midnight actually being the one to cry at movies. Especially at romance films. Ms. Joke learned over time to have tissues on hand.

🐶 Hound Dog would be the crier, I just know it. This man will cry at movies... as well as yellow at movies. Vlad King learned that horror movies are not the best choice of films for Hound Dog.

Who spends the most while out shopping?

💄Midnight, more so because she wants to spoil Ms. Joke with perfumes and dresses. Sometimes, she'll send flowers to Ms. Joke's school to let her know she's thinking of her.

🐶 Vlad King would be the shopper and Hound Dog put him on a limit because "What the hell, Sekijiro, you have enough low V-neck shirts"!

Who kisses more roughly?

💄Hmmm... Midnight, she's the rough kisser. Not only is she a rough kisser, she just loves to shower Ms. Joke with kisses wherever she wants.

🐶 ... okay, how would that work? Hee, I can imagine Hound actually licks out of affection.

Who is more dominant?

💄Midnight mostly is. Miss Badass in charge, but trust she doesn't mind Ms. Joke taking the lead.

🐶 I'm sorry, this is is the convo that came in my head just now.

"Aren't you a good boy?"

"I will bite your face."

Hm... Okay, I'm going with Vlad King here. Again, he understands Hound Dog better than anyone, so he knows how to take care of him.

My rating of the ship from 1-10.

I'm giving both a 9!

Ms. Joke and Midnight just seems so good together, you know? Midnight seems like someone who needs a sunshine person in her life and Ms. Joke would fit the bill. And we know Ms. Joke has a thing for long dark haired people. You cannot tell me she wouldn't fall for Midnight.

And with Hound Dog and Vlad King, it's canon they have a bond so there's already that solid ground. I admit it's not the first Hound Dog ship I had, but I do like it!! Honestly, I would like for their relationship be explored more in canon.

SHIP ASK

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wonderlandleighleigh · 2 years

Note

Do Rory and Jess ever get to take their road trip after senior year?

Quite the argument breaks out over Rory spending an entire weekend alone with her boyfriend in a "strange city," with her mother reluctantly taking her side while her grandparents try to forbid her from going.

"Rory is an adult now," Lorelai says. "If she wants to go away for a weekend with her boyfriend, she...can."

"I cannot believe you're allowing this," Emily marvels.

"I'm...allowing Rory to make her own choices. It's her life, and I trust her to be responsible."

"Of course Rory will be responsible," Richard adds. "It's that boyfriend who is untrustworthy."

"Jess doesn't make me do anything I don't want to do," Rory argues. "He's had a really hard year. A really hard year. He barely scraped by in school, Luke's been on him about his grades for months, there was the Dean incident, and then his dad showed up out of nowhere and then disappeared again. He needs a break, and frankly, after getting punched by my ex-boyfriend, so do I. So we're going, and I'll be back in time for one more Friday night dinner before Mom and I leave for Europe. And that's it."

The rest of dinner is awkward, to say the least.

*****

Lenny had probably been a little to generous with the graduation money, but that works for Rory. It means that they can split the cost of a nice hotel room for the night, and take the bus down to save money.

The hotel room itself is airy and there's one bed, and Rory has no illusions about what's going to happen this weekend. She sets her bag down on a chair and unzips it, digging in and finding what she's looking for.

"So - I brought -" She holds out a box of condoms awkwardly. "I didn't know what kind to get, but these seemed - fine."

Jess blinks rapidly before shaking out his head. "Rory-"

"I just wanted to be prepared."

"You bought an entire box. how many times do you think you're gonna get lucky this weekend?" he asks teasingly. "Are we gonna leave the room at all?"

"Jess."

He steps closer to her, kissing her softly. "I brought a few. But I appreciate that we seem to be on the same page about what might happen this weekend."

"Might?"

Jess shrugs. "It's not a requirement, Rory."

"I know. I just- want to. I want to."

He kisses her again. "Okay. Well, for now, let's go get a hot dog."

She smiles gratefully, before stowing the box back in her bag and following him out.

*****

They spend the day wandering the Village. They go back to the record shop from her first time visiting him in New York. They do get hot dogs, and hang out in the park, before the sun starts to go down, and they duck into the Gaslight to watch a the acts.

They stay late, and wind up at a late-night Chinese place, eating mushu pork and cold sesame noodles, and when they get back to the hotel, they can't stop laughing.

"Do you think the gargling Genghis Kan noticed that someone threw a coffee stirrer in his beard?" Rory asks.

"I think he did, actually," Jess tells her. "Did you catch the way the vein in his forehead was pulsing?"

"No! Uh, I'm sad I missed that!"

"Oh yeah. He knew."

Rory laughs, but it dies down as she looks around the dim hotel room and looks at the bed.

Jess takes a breath. "We just ate a bunch of garlicky Chinese food," he points out. "I don't know about you but...I'm ready to just get some sleep."

She nods quickly. "Yeah. That sounds- that sounds good. I'm gonna go brush my teeth."

He nods and starts getting ready for bed, and Rory watches for a moment, letting herself take in his bare back as he turns away from her to grab something to sleep in from his bag.

She bites her lip and grabs her pajamas and toothbrush before heading into the bathroom.

*****

She wakes up early the next morning, finding herself curled in against Jess with her head pillowed against the soft t-shirt he's wearing.

When she pulls him closer, he stirs and blinks down at her sleepily, giving her his crooked grin. "Hi."

She responds by kissing him.

Things get slow and hazy after that, and it feels...

Right.

To be here with him like this. Alone in their quiet little hotel room with the drapes pulled shut against the rising sun. It feels right.

After, she finds herself in his arms, breathing hard, clinging to him tightly, lightheaded from her orgasm, her eyes closed. His lips brush over hers softly and slowly, and she holds him tighter as she kisses him back.

*****

They shower after that, and she's never shared a shower with someone outside of gym class, but here she is, messing around with Jess's hair under the spray, giving him a stupid mohawk that makes them both laugh.

They get dressed and pack of their things, knowing they'll have to head for the bus station late in the day.

"So?" Jess asks quietly as they head out for more exploration. "Do you feel okay?"

Rory nods. "I do. I mean - I thought I would feel - I don't know. Different. More different than I do. But I just feel kind of sore."

Jess tries not to smirk and it gets him nudged.

"Shut up," she tells him.

"Yep. Okay. You wanna take a cab into Harlem? Be fancy?"

"Why, yes, I would love to be fancy."

*****

The bus ride home is uneventful. Rory naps against Jess's shoulder as he reads, and once they get to Hartford, they take his car back to Stars Hollow, and they sing badly to an old cassette tape they found in Harlem.

When he pulls up to her house, Rory leans over and kisses him, one arm wrapped around him and one cupping his jaw. "Goodnight, Jess."

He brushes his nose against hers. "Night, Rory. I'll call you tomorrow."

"You had better."

She grabs her things - her overnight bag and the bag of vinyl albums she bought - including the re-found copy of that signed Go-Go's album for her mother - and slips out of the car, heading into the house.

#fic #au #Gilmore Girls #Literati #Rory Gilmore #Jess Mariano #Jess x Rory

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helpimstuckinafandom · 1 year

Text

Next up on a tsats post I read got me thinking: Will Solace again

Because (again) good stuff in tsats got lost in the repetativeness of this book. Someone pointed out that Will's character wasn't changed, people just think he's calm and collected on the outside and in this book we see his pov and see him with someone he's closer/more vulnerable with, and dude is riddled with anxiety that he hides. And like..... yes. Yeah. That's it. That's literally it.

Being calm and collected and bossy in his element and completely petrified outside of it? Real for the medic who's great plan in the Seige on Camp Half-Blood being to run/get chased (and do the demigod art of insultsTM) Feeling like shit to be taken care of and thinking yourself useless because of it? So real for a medic who has previously bemoaned his lesser musical ability and combat abilities, who is now unable to do the one thing he IS good at

Personal bias here but I am called the "chill one" in my family. My dad says it almost constantly (especially in comparison to my siblings) that I'm more relaxed and don't get all anxious and have it under control and just don't sweat it. I'm not as academically smart as my siblings or anything and my relaxed nature is the number one thing that gets noticed about me

But I'm not

I am scared all the time. I feel sick to my literal stomach with anxiety multiple times a month going to bed or waking up because of.... life. Do I let a single person know that? God no. What if they need me? I live a good life all things considered, how could I ever compare the small shit I go through to someone's break up or family trauma or depressive episode?(Got a little bit of the "i'm not diagnosed so I'm invalid" thing going on) How could I ever put my needs on the front burner when I need to help people or spend time with them at their beck and call.

One of the other things I'm called/get compared to is a Therapy Dog. Because people find me comforting to be around - I listen and do my best to help - I am a friendly face.

I have literally told myself some days where life just keeps coming at me that I won't cover it up and I will actually look sad. I repeatedly tell myself to do it, and then the instant - the very second - i'm in front of someone I feel it naturally pack itself into the back of my mind and feel a smile pull at my lips. I literally can't do it. I don't want to worry them, I don't want to disuade them from telling me something because I look sad.

I think about the way my failures will impact everyone else but me. Like right now I think I'm gonna fail a course and it frightens me, but my priority is my mother who is stressed from family issues and my dad who trusted me - how my grades will worsen their lives. I'm like that for everything.

Basically, if I can't make people feel better, what good am I? What good am I TO THEM?

So Will Solace. I've always really liked him and related myself to him - even from Last Olympian, believe it or not. The brief moments with him back then had him be that random background character I latched onto. And then there was HOO (and later TOA) and I loved him even more. Partly because I could see him sharing opinions I do, but they weren't completely unfounded, but still his chill-ish nature and lack of other godly talents other than healing resonated with me. And then in tsats I remember several times going "bro he's literally me somehow". Somehow, being the key word, because even though I didn't think he was too different, since we didn't have much content of him before, I could still recognize a sort of shift. And this post I saw made me realize what it was:

He is the "chill one" - he is the "therapy dog". He knows how to take care of people and he likes nerd shit, and outside of that he is scared. He hates being taken care of because it makes him feel useless. He's worried he's loving/caring wrong and that it will lose him people - lose Nico. And we see it now because we get his thoughts - we see him completely out of his element with someone he's far closer to and can let his walls fall a bit, but still not completely. He's being unravelled by the Underworld and tries to downplay it. He's just like me fr.

#his character isn't different - it's weirdly more fleshed out #tsats #tsats potential spoilers #will solace

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rd0265667 · 2 years

Text

A notch up(Chapter 9)

Y/N's POV As I set Yuna down in her room, I turned to leave the room. There was much to be handled regarding this assailant. Alice was on her way too. As I turned, I heard soft sniffling, "Don't go..." I saw Yuna tearing up a little, I immediately knelt next to her bed as I smiled. "I need to handle some important things Yuna." "Please?" Yuna said with puppy dog eyes. "Okay then." I said as I sat down, as Yuna held my hand in hers and closed her eyes, her breathing slowing down and her eyes slowly closing. Seeing that, you slowly slipped your hand out of her grasp, looking at her sleeping form. She's so beautiful...I'm never gonna let her get hurt ever again. I smiled as I looked over her, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. Just then, the door opened, a concerned Yeji on the other side. She stared at me, and smiled gently. Thankfully she knew that was not creepy in intent. I walked out as I smiled back at her, gently closing the door. "How is she?" Yeji asked, worried for her beloved maknae "A little shaken, I think she's still a little uneasy about it, but hopefully she feels better soon." "Y/N ah, I have a small request to make, and I know I can trust you enough for this, before you ask." "Yeh?"

"Can you sleep with Yuna tonight?" My head jolted towards Yeji as I struggled to comprehend what she just said. "No no, not like that Y/N, just, could you bring your blanket and pillow to Yuna's room. Her room only has one bed but the floor is big enough. I know it's tough for you but I feel uneasy leaving her in there by herself. At least if you're there, if she wakes up from a nightmare or something, you can calm her down." I was a little uneasy, who wouldn't be...Yes Yuna was a great person, and it's highly likely that I like her a little, but I'm not sure if I trust anyone/or myself,enough to sleep in the same room as them, defenseless. The last time that happened I.... "Y/N? You okay?" Yeji asked, a little concern on her face "Oh, yeh, I'm fine. I guess for Yuna's sake, I will." "Thank you Y/N ah, I'll get going to my room now, I think Alice-unnie and Jake are looking for you." I nodded as Yeji entered her room

"The man was a sasaeng fan, apparently he's been using the girl's Instagram pictures to figure out the approximate location of their dorm. He's been arrested and JYP plans to slap him with a restraining order, that is....if, you know, he survives." Alice said, a little uneasiness in her voice as she glanced at me with her last sentence. I don't blame her. That was like, some kind of berserker rage... "Alice, could I talk to Y/N privately?" Jake said, putting his hand on my shoulder as Alice nodded

"I need you to be honest with me Y/N, what was that?" "I'm sorry Jake, I have no idea, I don't think that has ever happened to me." "Those moves you pulled, based on the injuries the man suffered, wasn't just self defense atacks Y/N. Those are moves that fighters with killing intent would used. You critically injured that man." Jake said, a grim look on his face "I've talked to JYP, this event has given him even more reason to allow the girls to take Martial Arts class from me, and by extension you, to protect themselves. I trust that you only went into such a rage because you saw Yuna being hurt, but if it at all possible, please keep this violent tendency at bay as much as possible. I would hate for the girls to look at you differently..." I nodded as Jake smiled back. " In the mean time, don't be too different alright? The girls are probably all on edge from this issue so do try to let them feel as normal as possible. The attacker has some links to other sasaengs apparently, on some online forums, and some of these guys are good, untraceable. They all have ill intent towards the girl, and now that the girl's dorm has been found, they are very at risk. I'll get an increase in security around this area, but for now, I'll have to place the girls on 'lockdown', for their safety, I can't let them leave the house." "Okay Jake, Thanks."

I slowly entered Yuna's room, careful not to wake her up. I set my blanket and pillow on the ground, settling down as I slowly fell asleep, as a Dream started to surface?

Italics is dream

I was holding a scythe in my hand, as I was faced off against 21 opponents. They all bowed to me as I reciprocated. Three lunged at me first as I swung the scythe in front of me, stopping them dead in their tracks, as I delivered a kick to the stomach to the person on the left, spinning and whacking the middle guy in the face with the end of my scythe. Slowly, the others started charging at me, and though I held my own, I felt myself get overwhelmed slightly, and I got blindsided, as one of them delivered a strong kick to my side. That made me stumble as I fell slightly, the scythe falling from my hand. I tumbled as I grabbed my weapon once again, but then, just like before, I slowly got overwhelmed and blind sided, knocked down. I slowly started to see red, as I saw me fly into a rage, the same rage. I slowly pummeled each of my opponents, some beaten bloody. "THATS ENOUGH!" I felt myself get lifted up a little, as I saw an older man with a staff walk into the room. He slammed me to the ground, knocking me out. As I regained consciousness, I heard that same older man and a slightly younger woman(compared to the man) standing over me. They were clearly talking about me, but their words were muffled as I still slowly regained conscious, but one word spoke out to me. Bloodlust

I jolted up in my bed as I saw Yuna holding a small pair of scissors in her hands, pointing it at me, trembling and shaking. I quickly got up and slowly backed away from Yuna, who's eyes widened as she recognised me. "Yuna... what are you doing?" Yuna shakily dropped the scissors and curled into a ball. "I'm so sorry Y/N, I woke up to you growling and I thought.... I thought that man was back." My eyes widened in realisation, as I quickly bent down, grabbing the scissors, putting it at a safer place before embracing Yuna. "I'm so sorry Yuna, I'm here to protect you. I just had a bad dream, I didn't mean to startle you." Yuna nodded, lightly sniffling as she sat back down. I was about to sleep when, "Y/N, could we cuddle? I'm scared." I hesitated a little, this is kinda inappropriate isn't it... but, she was terrified. This wouldn't hurt would it. I climbed into the bed apprehensively, as Yuna smiled at me, backing up into me as I basically enveloped her, with her grabbing my hand and putting it over her, like a protective shell for her. "Thank you Y/N ah" She said, then whispered something to herself "No worries, just have a good rest okay?" After that, I stayed awake, I didn't want to startle Yuna with another nightmare again. And... as I took a deep breath, I sighed a little

She smells amazing.

#yuna #yuna x reader #itzy #yuna fanfic

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lunathebee · 2 years

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Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Warning: fluff, Steven being himself, you guys are so in love it make me sick.

A/n: ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ Writer's block punch me in the face and tell me to make this a headcanon

Summary: You and Steven re-create a scene from the movie you guys both love.

Ok so I'm just gonna set something clear here: Steven adores Disney and Pixar films!

He might not grow up watching it but the moment he knows about it hes hooked

His apartment is probably too crowded and not suitable for a TV with cable network so you guys bought a small TV with DVD players

The first movie he watches with you is Wall·E

Steven is a bit talkative when it comes to watching something but don't worry, he only points and says stuff like "blimey, I would want to try that" or "oi, that's not true"

Wall·E bring him (and his inner child) comfort

Sometimes when he can't sleep at night, he will silently slip out of bed and go watch the movie (and then the sound will wake you up too and both of you guys cuddle while watching it <33)

The more Steven watch Wall·E, the more he absorb the character's personality

You will see Steven humming songs when he goes out for work (just like the little robot)

You will see him dancing around a bit to music too, swinging his hips (yes, just like the little robot)

Steven even has the Rubik's cube that he never solved (JUST LIKE THE LITTLE ROBOT- ahem, I'm sorry for yelling)

At some point you're just gonna told him he is like Wall·E in real life

He will act fussy about it but inside he is beaming with joy

He will make you his Eve, you have no choice, you can't say no to his puppy dog eyes.

"Love... I was thinking, do you want to re-create a scene from the movie?"

"But what scene bae?"

"The ending scene"

Oh, Steven is a cheeky little bastard. Trust me, he is nowhere near shy or blushing or stuttering when it comes to showing affection to his lover 🤸🏻‍♀️🤸🏻‍♀️

And that is how you end up on the bed, holding hands with Steven, eyes looking at him

"Wall·E...?" ( Don't bother asking me why he said it was for the mood)

Steven is trying so hard to not break into a smile, but he successfully keeps his face neutral

You lean in slowly to give him a peck on the lips and turn your back, pretending to walk away

But oh no, you can't! Steven has interlocked his fingers with yours 😳😳

"Wall·E...?" You said with a 🤨 face

Steven blinks a few times, mimics the robot and then...

"Eve....? EVE!!"

He looks at you, and then at his hand (holding your hand) and back at you again.

You have to admit it's pretty cute and funny, you even giggle a bit at Steven's acting

And then all of a sudden, Steven attacked you with a deep kiss, making you almost fall backwards

You sheepishly smile and kiss him back before pulling out to take a breath

"Excuse me? I'm pretty sure there is no scene like that in the movie" You smile while teasing him

"Love, I have watched the movie more than you. Trust me, there is a scene like that. Now come here and let me kiss you again, will ya?" Steven pulls you towards him and tackles you with kisses while mumble the sentences:

"You're my Eve, and I'm your Wall·E <3"

#marvel moon knight #moon knight headcanon #steven grant x reader #steven grant x y/n #moon knight imagine #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #oscar isaac

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asirensrage · 3 years

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Coming Home - Billy Russo x OC one shot

Title: Coming Home

Rating: M

Fandom: The Punisher

Warnings: sex. threats. a bit of knife play? Seriously though. It's just smut.

Summary: Sarai wakes up to a visitor in the middle of the night.

Notes: Shoutout to @vixenofcourse who helped me out on this! This is my first time writing Billy and I'm not sure how it went but I finally finished it. I hope you like it!

Something wakes her up. She’s not entirely sure what it is but she has to shove her hair out of her face to peer at the clock on the nightstand. It’s 2:17 am. There’s a creak on the floor, then another, and she’s almost tempted to reach out for the dog who’s probably coming into the room. She left the door open for him after all.

She closes her eyes and tries to fall back asleep. A hand covers her mouth. Before she can even shriek, there’s a quiet voice in her ear.

“You really are too trusting, sweetheart.”

Her eyes widen and she tries to turn over. He lets her, just enough so that she can face him. He doesn’t move his hand though. Instead, he moves with her, straddling and kneeling over her on the bed.

He moves his other hand and her eyes catch the knife he’s holding. He presses the flat of the blade against her cheek. Her heart is pounding against her chest, feeling like it’s going to burst or maybe collapse. “Did you really think you could leave?”

The panic twists into anger. She scowls at him in the dark. She tries to say something but his grip tightens against her cheeks. She tries to swallow the lump that grows in her throat. It’s only the knife at her face that keeps her from hitting him. Or trying to at least.

She tries to turn to look for her dog.

“Arash is in his crate, gnawing on one of those treats he likes. He’s fine.”

Sarai lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. He wouldn’t hurt Arash. Not even now.

“We’re gonna talk, sweetheart. You scream and you won't like the results. Got it?”

She nods.

“Good.” He lets go of her mouth slowly, the knife still in position. “You weren’t at home.”

“You told me to leave,” she says. Despite being half asleep, her tone is hard. They had fought for weeks. He gave her an opening. It’s not her fault she took it.

“You weren’t-” he cuts himself off.

“Don’t give me that,” she snaps. “You told me to leave, I left.”

“With no warning?” he snarls.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks! We were already practically broken up.”

“I was working. Trying to give you everything!”

“I wanted you!”

He kisses her hard, knife lowering from her cheek as he cups her face. She gives in instantly. Despite the fact that she left, Sarai missed him.

Billy shifts slightly, pressing more of his weight onto her. It’s such a familiar feeling, she can’t help but relish it. She wasn’t lying. Their bed had been empty for weeks while he continued to work, going overseas and leaving her. The tension finally broke when he snapped during a fight that she should just leave. So she did.

Billy kisses like he’s trying to own her, to bruise the feeling of him against her lips. Sarai kisses back just as desperately. A reminder of what he lost. He pulls back, just enough that they can breathe. He uses the chance to move his leg between hers, settling himself between her thighs as though he belongs there before he kisses her again.

Her hand digs into his hair as one of her legs hooks around his hip. She wants him close, even as she’s unwilling to admit that she shouldn’t have left the way that she did.

He grinds against her and as she gasps at the feeling, his lips move from hers. He kisses her cheek, then her neck.

“Don’t leave.”

She almost thinks she imagined it, but she felt his breath against her skin as he said it. “Billy…”

“You’re not fucking leaving.”

She doesn’t have to imagine it this time. She hears him clearly, even through the haze of lust that he creates.

He pulls back and the knife glints in the dark as she watches him. Before she can stop him, she feels the cool of the blade against her stomach. It disappears just as quick and she hears the rip before it registers that he cut the tank top she’s wearing.

“Hey!”

“You won’t need it. Be still!” he says sharply. He shifts back further, sitting more on her thighs. Her breath catches as she feels the knife at her hip. The elastic of her underwear snaps as it breaks but she can’t look away from the concentration on Billy’s face. No matter how angry he is, he’s still so careful with her. It nearly breaks her resolve to stay apart.

He pulls the scraps away before he moves back against her. He kisses her again and again before moving his mouth lower. He lingers on her neck, sucking at the skin as if marking her will keep her with him, prove that she’s his but Sarai had always only belonged to herself. She pushes at his shoulder and digs in her nails, trying to get him to move. He thrusts against her, the feel of his clothing against her bare skin a reminder of who is in power at this moment.

“Billy, please.” She just wants more. She wants to feel him, not linger in the torment of having him so close and yet not where she wants.

“Please?” he whispers against her ear. “Please? You left. I didn’t think you wanted this anymore.” She vaguely hears the knife clatter on the nightstand before she feels his fingers and the heat of his palm against her breast. She’s on fire and somehow he’s burning her more just by touching her.

“Billy…” she breathes.

His lips are back on her neck, teeth scraping against the skin even as she arches against him. His fingers twist her nipple before he finally shifts lower and soothes it with his mouth. He continues to build the pressure with bites against her skin, pressing her nipple between his teeth and tongue before switching to the other one. Sarai tries to rock her hips against him, needing more friction. It’s not enough, even as electricity feels like it’s sparking at his ministrations. She digs her nails into his back, dragging them in hopes they draw blood. She shouldn’t be the only one left frustrated and marked.

Despite her wanting, he doesn’t move from her chest. He takes his time, building her up. The only thing that keeps her from shoving him off and lunging at him is the feeling of his hand now at her hip. His calloused fingers move to the vee of her thighs as he shifts his position slightly, giving himself room to move his hand against her.

As his fingers find her clit, he finally moves, leaning back up to watch her face with his sharklike eyes. She tries to swallow her reaction. He knows everything that makes her weak though. He’s spent months learning her, just like she knows him.

He moves his fingers, one of her legs pinned under his. “Let me see you, Princess.” Billy pushes his fingers in, thumb still on her clit. Weeks away and he still knows exactly the way to move, to build up the pressure until it feels like Sarai is going to break apart. One of her hands grabs his arm, unsure if she wants him to press harder or pull away. She doesn’t want him to stop.

“Come for me.”

And she does. He curls his fingers in just the right way and her muscles tighten even as she’s pushed over the edge. He kisses her before she comes down from the high. Being with Billy has always felt like he’d devour her if she let him. Just like she’d burn him if he tried.

“You can’t just break-in,” she finally says when she’s caught her breath.

“You left,” he repeats.

Sarai feels her lip curling in a snarl. “You left first!”

“I was working!” Billy pauses and takes a breath. “For us.”

“For you,” she snaps. “I asked you to come back and you told me to go ahead and leave if this wasn’t enough for me.” She moves, trying to twist away from him but Billy still has her leg pinned under his. The material of his pants is rough and chafes at her skin. It takes seconds for him to move back between her legs, holding himself up over her.

“I didn’t mean it!” he snarls back at her, placing his hand at her throat and tightening his grip just enough to ensure she feels him. “You were gone! I came back, to our home, and you were gone. Not a fucking word. Not even a note.”

She swallows. Any lingering endorphins from her orgasm feel drowned in the doubt that rises at the emotion in his voice. She knows Billy, that her abandonment had exploited the chink in his armour. She was just so angry and betrayed. She wasn’t going to waste any more time, not when it could be so limited.

“You can’t leave me, ” he accuses.

“You can’t leave someone who isn’t there.”

He doesn’t respond. He stares at her for a moment before he’s kissing her again. Sarai’s mouth moves against his, desperate to feel what they’ve both been missing. It’s easier for both of them to not use words. At least in this.

Sarai tugs at his shirt. It’s not fair that she’s the only one laid out bare. Billy breaks the kiss just long enough to pull it off. His mouth feels like a brand, burning him into her over and over. She dodges his mouth, more focused on getting him out of his pants. She refuses to be the only one naked anymore. He doesn’t complain.

Billy moves to kneel over her. She sits up, undoing his pants and shoving down his boxer briefs with them. He kicks them off before kissing her and pushing her back against the bed. She bites at his lip, tasting blood even as he smiles against her. She slides her hand down his back and squeezes his ass. Just because she can.

Billy grinds against her in response. He grabs one of her legs, moving it to hook around his waist before he positions himself and presses into her. The air leaves Sarai’s lungs. Her head falls back. It feels as though it’s been forever since he’s been inside her like this. She almost forgot how good he feels. She’s missed this heat, the stretch of him and the way his scent surrounds her. She’s missed him.

The man doesn’t waste time. He pulls back slowly before thrusting into her hard. She wraps her other leg around him, determined to keep him close even though the movement is so good. He keeps the pace slow as he moves hard against her.

“You like that?” she hears him say. “No one’s gonna make you feel like this, Princess.”

“Please,” she begs.

“No one,” he promises. “But me.”

He picks up the pace. Sarai loses herself in the feeling of him. She’s already sensitive from earlier and it’s been so long since she felt his weight against her. It doesn’t take long before she’s crying out as the tension builds. She calls his name as she reaches her peak.

Billy thrusts against her, his pace quickening even as he kisses her again, murmuring things that she doesn’t hear as her orgasm gets drawn out. He pulls out in time, and she feels him spill out onto her stomach.

He leans his forehead against hers as they both try to catch their breath. Her curls are sticking to her skin and all she wants is a shower and to sleep. She looks up at him, meeting his eyes.

“Come back home,” he says quietly. “I’ll do whatever it takes, just come back.”

“Just be there with me.”

He stares at her for a moment and she can see the realization finally sinking in. He kisses her softly before he gets up. “Stay there.”

Sarai shifts, getting comfortable and feeling herself starting to slip into sleep when he comes back. He cleans up the mess he made with a warm washcloth. Despite wanting to fall asleep, Sarai forces herself to get up this time. If only to use the washroom.

When she returns, he is in her bed looking for all the world like it’s his. She ignores the temptation to shove him out of it and crawls back under the covers. Billy instantly pulls her to settle against him.

“You have an appalling lack of security,” he says, eyes closed and a hand tucked under his head.

“I have plenty of security.”

That gets a reaction. He opens his eyes and looks at her, unimpressed. “Arash is not security.”

“He’s great security,” she argues back. “He just knows you. Besides, I wasn't talking about him.”

“Then what? Because I saw none.”

She tries not to roll her eyes but moves, reaching over the side of her bed where she usually lays and pulls out a piece of rebar she has tucked into the mattress. Billy’s eyes widen at the sight of it. “If it hadn’t been you, I would have cracked your skull open before you even got close.”

She says it in complete sincerity and she knows he’s aware that she’s serious.

His lips quirk up as he smiles. “Of course, you would.”

He doesn’t attempt to take it from her but lets her put it back. Sarai lets him think that’s the only piece hidden in her room. She moves back against him, resting her head on his chest as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. Her eyes close as she gets comfortable and he pushes some of her hair out of her face. It’s not long before they both fall asleep.

Sarai is alone when she wakes up.

She can hear Arash in the other room along with the sound of someone moving around. She can still smell Billy on her sheets, It takes a few moments before she finally gets up and goes looking for him.

She stops as soon as she leaves her bedroom. Everything is packed. The apartment is nearly empty except for her dog, Billy and the small container that she can smell food in.

“What the hell is this?” She tugs the blanket she took from her bed tighter around herself. She was expecting another round. Not this.

“We’re going home,” Billy says, even as he hands her a to-go cup of coffee and kisses her.

She stares at him for a moment, contemplating if she really wants to murder him for the presumption or if she’ll let it be. She takes a sip, listening as he mentions that he already walked Arash for her and just how many more weapons he found tucked away as her things were being boxed up. He sounds impressed. She might let him live. Just for that.

taglist: @raith-way @ocfairygodmother @lokitrasho @zeleniafic @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse

#aww yeah #this is finally done #billy russo x oc #billy russo fanfic #the punisher fanfic #billy russo/oc

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imtryingmybeskar · 3 years

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So I'm sure we have all seen Pedro in the overalls today and my beautiful friend suggested a farmboy fic and I couldn't rest until I made it a reality.

*Disclaimers* I know nothing about farming, nor am I from the US. I imagined him as having a softer version of the Whiskey accent.

18+ only! You know the drill. 3.9k words.

The first time you saw him he was striding along the dusty road to your farmhouse, the sun at his back, his shadow stretching long ahead of him. Only someone looking for work and out of luck with it would be approaching at this late hour. From your perch at your bedroom window, you could look down and see the fatigue in the set of his shoulders, the dejection in the bow of his head. As he neared he stopped and dropped his pack to the ground before attempting to make himself presentable - raking his hand through his dark hair before setting his cap back on, dusting the legs of his overalls free of as much of the dirt of the road as he could, and finally straightening his back, righting his posture to make himself look strong, tall, not as hard up as he was. His rap at the door came as you were nearly at the bottom of the stairs and your dog, who had been peacefully sleeping at his approach finally woke and defended in a storm of paws and tail and barking.

"Hey! No!" you told her, and she quietened down and stayed where you told her to, in the line of sight from the doorway but no immediate threat to anyone on the other side. Opening the door you were greeted by the sight of a not-so-young-anymore man. Despite his efforts to clean himself up, his arms were streaked with grime and sweat and you could see the stains of his exertion under his arms and at his neck. His head remained bowed as he began to speak and you got the feeling he had replayed this spiel many times recently.

"Ma'am, I'm very sorry to trouble you. I'm here to see if you are lookin' to take on anyone at the farm at this time?" His voice was deep and rich with an enticing southern twang, sweet as honey whiskey.

"What kind of work can you do?" His eyes raised to your face and the hope you saw in their soft, dark depths almost melted you. As if he hadn't even gotten this far along with anyone for a very long time.

"Just about anything," he answered. "I can drive - harvesters, tractors. I can take care of all kinds of animals, muck 'em out, feed 'em. I've helped birth 'em too, though I know that time is passed for this year. I can sow and harvest by hand too if that's needed. And I can mend things, fences, roofs, you name it." Looking at him appraisingly, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Why are you on foot? Must have travelled an awful long way to get all the way out here." He looked down again, presenting you with the brim of his cap to look at instead and shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"I uh...I lost my own farm. Not too long ago. Sold everything I had to try and keep it afloat. Even my car."

"So, if I were to take you on-" his head snapped up eagerly again. "IF" you emphasised, "Would you be needing a place to stay as well?"

"If you had anywhere that could accommodate me, I would be most grateful for that, yes Ma'am."

"I want you to know that I've been out here on my own for a time. I know how to take care of myself. And I'm sure you heard and can see Tank behind me there." He was nodding as you spoke.

"I don't want no trouble. Just a job and a roof over my head." You eyed him for a few seconds more before stepping back from the door to let him in. He entered gingerly, staring around wide eyed as if he hadn't been inside a house for a long time.

"You hungry?"

"No...I mean, I don't wanna impose-"

"No imposition. If you're gonna work for me, you need feeding. Come with me." The dog whined a little as you approached, and you stroked her head. "Come!" you commanded the dog and she raced away ahead of you. Checking to see the man was following, you led him past the stairs and through the living area to the back. Here you had a small extension set up, with a bathroom and shower and a small room with a sofa which opened out into a bed, ostensibly for guests, though you hadn't had any for years. "You can get yourself cleaned up here. Any clothes you want to wash, you can do in the morning. There's no door to this room, so the only privacy you'll get is in the bathroom I'm afraid."

"This is...fantastic," he said in a low tone. "I've slept outside for a week or more, so this is just...Thank you ma'am," he finished, humbly. You left him to it and went to prepare him a plate of leftovers. When he finally emerged, scrubbed and fresh half an hour later, you bid him sit at the table and presented him with it. Without all that dirt streaking him and without his cap on you could finally see how good he looked and you had to tear your eyes away from the fullness of his lips before you went too far down that rabbit hole. The man was clearly desperate, hanging on to the shreds of the dignity of his old life by his fingertips. There was no way you were going to make him feel like he owed you anything by taking him in. You left him be until you heard him hum with satiated pleasure about ten minutes later.

"Better?" you asked.

"Better," he smiled.

"I see you've made a friend," you said wryly, gesturing to the large hairy head currently resting on one of his feet. You trusted your gut about this man, you didn't imagine him to be anything than he had said he was. But you had to be cautious for obvious reasons. The dog, however, had proved to be a truly excellent judge of character in the past and it warmed you to see her take to him so readily.

"I think I may have bribed my way into her affections. Chicken," he clarified.

"That'll do it," you smiled. He insisted on washing his own plate and then there was an awkward silence between you for a time as he stood in your living room, not really knowing what to do with himself. "Hey, you can sit and watch TV with me, or you can hit your bed if you want. I won't be offended either way."

"I...I think I will go to bed. I'm kinda lookin' forward to it."

"I can understand that," you said as you handed him pillows, blankets and fresh sheets to make it up with. "Just so you know, the dog sleeps down here too. She shouldn't wake you. And help yourself to water in the night, coffee in the morning. Whatever you want."

"Thank you," he said again, his eyes catching yours and looking happier than you had seen them thus far. "Goodnight."

The man worked like a machine. Having lived this life for many years, you were accustomed to being up before dawn, but he beat you to it the next morning, greeting you with a soft "Good morning," and handing you a cup of coffee that he had prepared. He kept up a pace all day, and you moved around each other around the farm, lifting your hands or voices in greeting when you passed. You couldn't help but notice how the soft cotton of his shirt creaked at the seams when he moved his broad shoulders, nor how deft his hands were at every task he set them to. The dog had begun to follow him everywhere and you found yourself liking that too, despite the mild sting of betrayal. He came in to help with lunch and after he washed up, set to chopping salad and buttering bread.

"This is gonna sound weird, but erm...your dog...she ain't partly deaf or anything is she?"

"No, why?"

"Its just, she comes when I whistle, but not when I call."

"Ohhh," you said, realisation hitting you like a wave. "Yeah, well, last night I might not have told you her proper name. I er...I wanted to make her seem a little more intimidating than she is. Just in case, you know. Hence Tank. Though she ruined that when she drooled all over your shoes." He gave a small chuckle, his eyes sparkling.

"So what is her name?"

"Cookie." At this, you heard the tell tale sound of Cookie's claws on the kitchen tiles. "Good girl," you threw over your shoulder at her.

"Well, that suits her a lot better'n Tank. She's so friendly."

"Only to the good ones. You should have seen her with the last man that came in here. She knew he was a wrong 'un. Took me a while to catch on, but I get there in the end." You turned your head to find him looking at you with sympathy and a touch of anger. "Like I said, I can take care of myself," you added and moved on with your day. In his first week staying with you he managed to do most of the little jobs that had been irritating, but not bad enough to address. The tap in the kitchen no longer dripped. All of the fencing was entirely without holes for the first time in forever. The roof of the chicken coop was renewed. You decided to celebrate by breaking out some beers in the evening and sat with him on your porch, watching the sky slowly turn from gold to apricot to scarlet. Once he had started to feel less awkward around you, you found him to be good company - intelligent and curious and with a good sense of humour and even your silences were now companionable, especially a few beers in.

"Need to plant some more things in the garden," he grunted, slurring a little. "Maybe some beets and some radishes?"

"That sounds good," you agreed, "but for tonight, just switch off a bit. Enjoy the beer and the view. You've more than earned it."

"Oh, I'm enjoyin' the view alright," he said. There was something low and sinful in his voice that made you turn your head to him in astonishment and definite interest, but as you did, his eyes grew wide and he started to splutter. "Oh God, I apologise. I haven't had a beer in months and I guess my tolerance ain't what it was. I...I didn't mean to offend. I didn't mean to say that."

"Didn't you?"

"No, I-I'm sorry." Putting your beer down, you came to stand in front of him, placing your hands on his knees and running them up his thighs.

"Are you sure you didn't mean it?" And suddenly the realisation of your own drunkenness came crashing around you. What were you thinking? You couldn't take advantage of him like this. He had nowhere else to go and he had said he wasn't interested. You straightened abruptly. "No, I'm sorry. This is wrong. I'm...I'm going to bed." And you did so, walking swiftly away before he could see the redness of your face.

The next morning, your coffee lay on the counter and you could see him outside the house pottering around. Berating yourself for an idiot for ruining the good feelings you had built up between you, you went about your own tasks in a crotchety mood. He didn't come in for lunch either, and you began to get a little worried about him. Deciding to tackle the problem head on, you brought him out a Tupperware with some food and some water. Eventually you found him in the barn, measuring some of the beams. He hadn't noticed you come in and you stood and openly stared for a moment at the sight of him with no shirt on under his overalls. It was pretty warm in here - you were starting to feel the effects yourself. His back was broad and muscular and his shoulder muscles rolled as you watched him reach up to measure something above him.

"Er...hi," you ventured, a little shyly. He whirled to face you, looking as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just thought you might want some lunch." You deposited it on the hay bale closest to you and carried on, keeping your voice light, "And to say that I'm sorry about yesterday. You said no and I shouldn't have pushed it. I don't want you thinking you have to do anything like that to stay here!"

"Thank you," he said softly as he made his way over to you. "But..I said no because we had both been drinkin' and because I didn't wanna take advantage of anythin' I wasn't bein' offered freely and honestly." His eyes raked over your face, black and piercing in the half light inside the barn. He was so close to you, you could smell the lemon scent of his soap and the musky smell of him underneath. There was a sheen of sweat across his chest and before you could stop yourself or think too deeply about what you were doing, your hands were upon him, feeling the taut, strong muscles of his pectorals. You bit your lip a little as you raised your eyes to his.

"You're not taking advantage," you whispered. "I want this." That was all the invitation he needed to crash his lips upon yours with a fervent desire. His big hands circled your waist and roved your back as his tongue begged entrance at your mouth. Your own hand moved down his overalls to where he was starting to bulge, massaging his length and making him moan into your mouth.

"Christ, I...I've not been with anyone for so long. That feels so good, don't stop." You heeded him, but also brought one of his hands from around your back to your breast where he began to knead it intensely and he groaned again, in between peppering your mouth and neck with kisses. "Fuck, you're so pretty. I thought so from th' first moment I saw you. I didn't know how to say..." For someone usually so reticent, he was on a roll now he had your tit in his hand and you were palming him through his overalls.

You snaked your hands up his body again and undid his overalls, letting them fall and pool around his feet where they landed. His body was gorgeous, broad and muscular with a little fuzz over his chest and running down his stomach. You ran your hands all over it, feeling the slickness of the sweat beading through his hair under your hands and feeling your own body begin to heat and respond in earnest, your clit throbbing a little between your legs. He kicked off his boots, and took off his socks and overalls in one swoop before taking you back in his arms and kissing you ardently again. His hand slid up your shirt and hiked it up, the sweat at your back making it stick to you a little. You broke the kiss to hurl it from your head and away, closely followed by your bra.

"Oh fuck baby, your tits are so beautiful. Lemmie taste you." He got on his knees in front of you and did just that, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking on it harshly whilst rubbing your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Exhaling a moan of pleasure, you tangled your fingers into his dark waves and pulled him even closer, feeling his smile against your chest as his free hand undid the buttons on your jeans. You could feel the wetness in your underwear now, the telltale stripe of moisture under your cunt as he coaxed that sweet feeling all through your veins with his tongue and fingers on your nipple.

"I want you to fuck me," you gasped. "Need you to fuck me hard."

"Oh don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you," he murmured against your skin as he pulled the material down your legs. "Fuck, you're so wet already. I can see it on your panties. I wanna taste you there too. Can I?" His big dark eyes looked up at you with pleading and what you would have called innocence had he not already been flicking his tongue back over your nipple, making you squirm and huff with the pleasurable tickle of it. In reply you pulled the rest of your clothes away from you, but before he could reach his prize you took his jaw in your hand and brought his head up to look at you. He was instantly attentive and alert, looking slightly worried, as If you might have changed your mind in the few seconds it had taken for you to remove your clothes.

"You can taste me, if I can taste you afterwards," you offered.

"Hell yeah you can," he muttered appreciatively as he got to his feet and lifted you on to a haybale. The straw poked you roughly and mercilessly, but you forgot about that when he leaned over you and kissed you deeply again. "Gonna make you feel real good, honey," he promised again before kissing a path downward. He hooked your legs over his biceps and ran his forearms up to your breasts, teasing your nipples again before diving right in to lick warm, wide stripes from your cunt to your clit. It had been so long since anyone had been intimate with you, your head felt dizzy and overwhelmed, but he took it to another level with the enthusiasm he brought to the task. He lapped at you and what you were leaking as if he were a man starved, pushing his face into you, so you could feel his patchy stubble rub against your inner thighs, and sucking gently on your clit. It took an embarrassingly short time before your breaths came stunted and your voice rose in a wail of pleasure as he drove you to your peak, the red hot lava of it flowing from your core throughout your body. He ripped a second from you when he pushed two thick fingers inside and curled them wonderfully to strike against that part inside you that you yourself could never reach. His eyes glittered with lust as you came down from your high and you swore you could come again just from the look he was giving you from between your legs. He kissed your inner thighs and wiped his mouth as he came in for another kiss, your taste all over his tongue and lips.

"Your turn." you announced breathlessly, as you got down from the bale on shaky legs. Not breaking eye contact, you knelt in front of him, the straw on the floor not much of a cushion for your knees. He moaned loudly as you raked your nails down his side, catching them on the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down, allowing his cock to spring free and bob up toward his stomach. You had felt that he was well endowed, but seeing him was something else entirely and you couldn't help the hum of appreciation that escaped you before you leaned forward kissed the reddened tip, his precum brushing over your lips. You looked up at him as you licked it off and could see his breaths coming heavy and wild, his shoulders and chest heaving in anticipation. His hands came around to tangle in your hair as you licked a swirl over his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking gently whilst moving down his shaft.

"Fuck, baby. You're so good. C-can I move?" You brought your hands around to the firmness of his ass and moved him forward a little to give him permission and saw his head roll back in pleasure. He seemed to not want to hurt you and fucked your mouth much more gently than you thought he would. Your head bobbed further and further down his shaft until he was striking the back of it, making you gag a little. Raising yourself back off, you pumped him with your hand while swirling your tongue over his tender head. When you brought your other hand to cradle his balls he trembled a little under your touch. "Honey, I do not want you to stop, but if you don't I won't be able to fuck you before I come." You removed your mouth from him slowly, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard as you progressed.

He helped you to your feet and reached down to stroke your clit again while he kissed your lips, the taste of you both mingling in your mouths. Turning your back to him you bent over the hay bale, presenting yourself to him and you heard a guttural sound of arousal behind you before the head of his cock was notching at your entrance and pushing in all at once, stretching you and making you whimper as he bent over your back and kissed your shoulder. "Are you ok, baby?" he muttered. "Does this feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered. "Now fuck me hard."

He bit down a little on the meat of your shoulder and whispered a low "Yes, Ma'am," before standing fully and beginning to piston his hips into you with forceful, firm strokes, his cock pushing further within you each time. It was overwhelming and even more so when he pushed down on your back further so that he was fucking down into you and sliding over your spot with each thrust. The change in pitch of your gasping moans and the wetness that you could suddenly feel around the tops of your thighs encouraged him to fuck you even harder, his cock swelling as he got close to his release and filling you up beautifully. "Like that, honey? Right there?" he grunted as you started to feel yourself lose control around him.

"Yes, there, please, don't stop, please," you begged. He captured your arms and pulled you further back toward him, and suddenly he was striking something white hot and golden inside and you were gone, your cunt pulsating around him and flooding him with you. Your head was so dizzied that you only noticed he had pulled you flush against his sweat-sticky chest when his arms were around you, grasping greedily at your breasts and the hot breath of his rich, deep voice was beside your ear.

"Where-"

"inside." He drove into you half a dozen more times before he cried your name aloud and you felt him pulsate strongly within you, jettisoning his spend into you with groans muffled against your shoulder. As he withdrew, he held you up gently before turning you and lying you on the bale he had just taken you over, coming to lie down beside you with his big eyes searching your face and his big calloused hands stroking the soft skin of your belly. The sweet summer sun was slanting over his face, turning his black eyes amber in its glow and you felt a welcome twinge in your heart as you took his face in your hand and kissed him.

#m x f reader #farmboy #farmboy smut #pedro pascal smut

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

𖨆. 06 / all for us

summary: you wake up in your room, and you can’t help but try again. even if you might meet a strange doctor and their assistant.

note: another dark chapter. please read the warnings.

taglist: @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @the-sun-baby @stupid-stinky @uniquepickle @ascybous @messyhairday-me @saturnalya @megumitodoroki @kouyume

word count: +2.5k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of self harm, mentions of suicide attempt, blood, suicidal thoughts, panic attack, suicide attempt, medical inaccuracies, a little graphic detail of glass being pulled from skin

YOU'RE disappointed whenever you awaken from your temporary slumber. you were sure that you were close to death with that blade on your vein, but it turns out you were wrong. well, that's what you think until you look at your arm.

each one of the cuts is stitched up neatly while the bandages trying to wrap around them are loose. you sit up while inspecting some of the bloodied bandages on your hand, must've been from whenever you broke the mirror.

you sigh sleepily, staring at the bedroom door in hopes that someone will come entertain you even just for a moment. luckily, your wish is granted whenever you watch erwin slip into the door silently.

he's trying to be silent, that much is obvious by how he's not wearing any shoes and instead socks along with him shutting the door gently. he turns to you, flinching at how your eyes bore into his head even as you lay down.

"you're awake it seems," he smiles and sits on the edge of the bed, large hand caressing your pale cheeks.

you start to sit up only to be fussed at by erwin, who softly shoves you back against the bed.

"how am i still alive," you stare into the ceiling.

"when you passed out, we managed to get ahold of our friend that's a doctor," of fucking course. of course they'd have a doctor friend, how the fuck else would they get roofies?!

"when can i get out of bed," you lay your hands on the collar around your neck.

"tomorrow, we didn't expect you to wake up today."

"how long have i been dead for?"

"an incorrect term to describe you, however you've been out for a day. our friend told us with your mental struggles it might take longer for you to wake up," he sighs and rolls his head while a gentle smile forms on his face.

"can you turn on a show for me? don't care what," you look to the ceiling fan.

"of course," erwin says in slight concern. he'd expected you to, at the least, shed some tears, whether it be from happiness or sadness. but you weren't reacting at all.

"you know.... when i was younger people didn't like me," you sigh, "but i was okay with it. as long as i didn't get hurt, i didn't care all that much."

"why are you telling me this?"

ignoring him, you let out a small and bitter chuckle, "when i got into high school, i made friends with a boy who had a twin brother. his name was marcel, he was so sweet and kind.

"he's dead now. it tore his brother apart, i'd never seen porco in that much pain before."

mistakenly, erwin ponders, "how did he pass?"

it's the first time you turn your head to stare at him with those dead fish eyes of your's. you looked almost sinister as you burned holes into erwin's head.

"suicide."

erwin left your room with stiff shoulders that night.

————

two days later, you're standing to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. you're surprised they didn't take the glass away from you, but you're sure it's for brushing your teeth or something.

as you stare at yourself, you allow your shoulders to shake as they hold up your arms leaning on the sink.

you wonder what your friends would say at seeing you like this. so desperate to get out that you're willing throw away everything you have just to get it.

there's an itch at the back of your mind, festering up against the walls over your brain.

'they'd think you look pathetic,' the itch, now a voice, whispers.

"porco wouldn't," you whimper. porco's been through this process before, he gets it, he understands. right?

'marcel died by his own hands in order to cleanse himself from his sadness. he'd look down upon you for comparing this to his case,' you squeeze your eyes shut and put your hands over your ears.

"pieck wouldn't. she's by my side forever," you sob.

'pieck fought with you before your disappearance. she called you a fuck-up. look at yourself, you'll find that she's right,' and with bated breath you look up.

you sob, shooting your arm back that's clenched into a fist. you punch the glass, which flies all onto your arm and hand. you storm out of your bathroom in fear, stumbling as you look at the stool used for your vanity.

you take it hastily, setting it up the ceiling fan and standing on it. with rushed movements, you wrap the chain connecting with the metal collar around the base of the fan. you step off of the stool, kicking it away with your foot while you choke.

you're starting to black out when you see levi run in with erwin, and you pray to the heavens that you'll wake up in hell.

————

once again, you're disappointed. you whimper weakly while crying, you just wanted to die. you don't want to be trapped in here anymore, you just want to escape.

your throat burns. and before you can try to test your voice, someone's unlocking the door while letting out an almost wicked laugh.

the door swings open to reveal a person, who's long brown hair is pulled into a messy ponytail and wearing circled glasses on their face along with an eyepatch. behind them follows a much meeker man, one that's reprimanding their actions as they shout loudly in excitement at the realization that you're awake.

"moblit!! she's already awake," the person hoots to the man behind them, who you're going to assume is moblit.

"i can see that hanji! now, quiet down! you're probably scaring her," moblit scolds the person named hanji, who ignores the warnings.

"hello, my darling~! i'm your doctor, hanji zoë but feel free to call me hanji! do you have any recollection of what happened," they sing excitedly, shoving their face close to you.

you nod nervously, who the fuck was this person.

"i apologize for their behavior, they act almost as a dog," moblit emphasizes while pulling hanji away by their shoulder.

"we came to see if you sustained anymore damage onto your body besides your neck," he looks you over.

you hold up your hand, smeared with your dry blood. hanji gently takes it into their hands, frowning deeply at what they see.

"get my tweezers for me, moblit. she's still got some tiny pieces of glass in the wounds. i'm sure that's why you were hurting so bad before we came in, huh," hanji attaches a magnifying glass to their glasses while slipping on medical gloves. you'd just woken up, but you weren't gonna tell them that.

moblit hands them a tray along with tweezers, not to mention hydrogen peroxide.

"tisk tisk! that shorty and eyebrows really don't know how to put hydrogen peroxide in! losers," they cackle at the end, which has moblit slapping a hand down onto their shoulder.

"alright alright!" they smack it away, taking your hand—palm faced down—gently while adjusting their magnifying glass.

you scream as they start to pull out a piece of glass, not exactly expecting them to be either big or long. you sit up on your elbow to look, you don't exactly trust this person.

your scream has levi and erwin bursting in the door just as hanji pulls out a smaller piece of glass, that they had to dig a bit for and it made you cry.

"what'd you do?! what are you doing?!" levi bombards while erwin rushes to your side.

"well, i'm trying to concentrate on getting some of this glass out of her skin. unless you want it to get infected, i'm going to continue. it just hurts," hanji says in frustration, bringing your hand closer to their face.

"oh, thank god," erwin sighs in relief but immediately jumps at the sound of your teary shout.

"it's okay, you'll be okay," he reassures, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

bursting with slight anger and immense pain, you snap at him, "don't you think i know that?! it just hurts!!"

both erwin and levi look shocked at your outburst just as you hiss in pain again.

sighing, hanji looks at you, "okay, i saved this one for last since it'll be the most painful to get out."

"just get it over with," you sob, squeezing your free and bandaged hand into a fist.

you knew it was going to hurt, they'd just told you. however, you didn't realize that somehow a piece of glass managed to get stuck in the wound with one side of it being lunged under unharmed skin. it was like trying to get out one paper out of a stack.

you scream again, letting yourself fall onto your back again and swinging your arm over your eyes. biting your lip, you breathe heavy with shaky sobs.

"this is worse than giving birth," you cry.

"it's definitely comparable," hanji humors you while they poke at the glass.

it makes you chuckle a little, considering they're the one putting you through this.

whenever they pull the piece of glass out, it feels like an immense weight has been taken off you as you relax your body. you hiss at the hydrogen peroxide, but it's much better than the pulling of the glass. you reach up to your collar, only to realize that they've detached the chain connecting to it.

you're frustrated, even more so whenever hanji pulls away from you and acts like this is a totally normal occurrence. you're kidnapped for god's sake, shouldn't they be calling the police?

you let your eyes wander around the room, and when they set on levi, you tense. you scoot away from erwin, since he's on the same side of the bed as him, and place yourself at the edge of the bed.

"alright, we need to talk to you about some things," erwin brushes some of your hair behind your ear, completely ignoring your fear of levi.

"first things first, you can't be trusted alone," levi grunts and leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

"which means, you'll be spending time with levi during the day until i get home or if i request to see you," erwin cautiously and slowly says.

your eyes widen while they shoot between levi and erwin, absolute fear swarming your body.

"i only hit you whenever you disobey," he scoffs, "i believe pain is the best way to teach someone a lesson."

"he won't hurt you unless you give him a reason to," erwin tells you reassuringly. it doesn't work well.

"please, don't hurt me. i'll be good, just don't hurt me," you croak while looking to levi, who softens a bit at the statement.

"don't worry then," he nods, "now go back to sleep. i'm sure you're tired after all that screaming. you'll be with me at eight in the morning."

you nod, shakily grabbing ahold of the remote on your bed and turning your tv on. levi slips out of the room without a word while erwin stays back.

"good night, my love. get some rest," he whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

you hum in response, scrolling through the selection of movies on the netflix account levi and erwin provided for you. you choose a rom-com movie, seeing as you don't actually plan on staying up just to watch it.

you turn onto your side and close your eyes.

and for the first time, you rest easy.

the next morning, levi leads you through the home by hooking his pinky with your's. you were slightly thankful at the gesture. he knew that you were nowhere ready to be fully touched by him and that you weren't allowed to leave his side.

you sit on the love seat in his office, shyly taking the tv remote from his hands when he offers.

"watch anything, just don't turn it up too loud," he sits at his chair with a sigh as you scroll through movies on hulu.

you choose the movie footloose while you get comfortable on the couch. you try to ignore the small shivers running up and down your body as you're not covered up with a blanket.

you glance over to one of the bookshelves levi has up against the wall, trying to find if levi had any good reads. but before you could read the titles printed on the spines, a certain book that poked out from behind the others caught your eye.

'memories' the fraying writing was a messy cursive on the spine, something you assume levi wrote.

you get yourself lost in thought while staring at the bookshelf. if the book was in levi's office and in levi's handwriting, that means it has to be a scrapbook. and that it's levi's.

your eyes shine at the realization, but you try not to let it show. you'll wait for levi to get the two of you lunch before you'll look at it.

and so, you wait with patience. it seems so grueling as the time passes and you switch from movie to movie, but you hope it'll be worth it in the end. you hope that it explains why levi is the way he is.

"i'm going to make our lunch. the door's lock behind me since it's a keypad. stay put," levi says with slight annoyance, walking out of the room grumpily.

at the sound of the door locking, you jump to your feet and race to the bookshelf. you carefully pull the book out of its place, immediately flipping it open to the first page.

and there levi was, in all of his glory. levi was a baby in the photo, closed eyes and a peaceful look on his face as he curled into himself.

turning the page, you almost gasp at the image you see. levi's being fed by a gorgeous woman, who you can only assume is his mother. the next picture on the page shows levi wearing raggedy clothes with greasy hair shining in the sun as he crouched to hold stare disgustedly at a bug on his finger.

it made you giggle, but the next photo made you frown. levi, who looked to be at the age of five, was standing next to an older man with a casket behind them. you look at the note written under it.

'mom's funeral,' it reads, and you feel an immense amount of pity.

the next picture is a picture of levi at the age of seven standing in front of a beat up school with dirty and ripped clothing. his hair is long enough to be a mullet in this and his body looks so frail compared to now. levi's face shows not a hint of emotion, instead his eyes stare right through the camera and back at your's.

you jump whenever a book on the shelf falls onto its side. you hiss while rushing to put it back up, and as soon as you do, one from the top shelf falls onto the ground somehow. you hurriedly grab it and reach up to it on your tip toes, but you're barely able to reach.

you curse while you use the bottom of the bookshelf as a stool, not even realizing just how old this thing seemed and how much you weighed.

you sigh in relief whenever it doesn't fall down, it only wobbles a little as you step back onto the ground. you go to put the scrapbook away, but you notice that the stand hasn't stopped wobbling. it wobbles almost hauntingly back and forth, and that's when you realize it's going to fall on top of you.

you gasp while dashing to the floor while you slide out of the way, not even realizing that the scrapbook was being bricked by your arms holding it to your chest.

you cringe at the loud bang it makes as it falls, but the cringe turns to fear whenever you hear the pounding footsteps of levi.

you can't get up on your feet quick enough as he bursts through the door. his eyes dart to you on the floor and then back to the fallen bookshelf.

"what did you fucking do?! are you that stupid?!!" this has to be the loudest you've ever heard levi speak, and it makes you nervous.

tears well up in your eyes as you stare at him, completely petrified at how you might be beaten once more.

you hope levi spares you, just this once.

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mashiraostail · 4 years

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Hi Den! I just saw your depressive reader request and I really appreciated it, of course and your other contents, they were amazing. I wasn't really feeling myself lately and seeing the characters comfort the reader, believe me it really helps me, especially I'm going through a big test right now. I was wondering if I can request a Vlad King version, or any other characters you have in mind? I really wanted to be in his big arms, if no then it's ok too💗please stay hydrated at these times and be safe, I'm looking foward to your great work💗

Hi! I'm really glad you liked them! I have another ask looking to get Mic and Yagi so I’ll add them here too, i hope your test goes well!

Sekijiro Kan / Vlad King Hindsight is always much clearer. You wished you'd started the assignment when you got it rather than continually putting it off, but no, so everything had piled. You somehow managed to churn it all out the night before but it left you thoroughly exhausted. So much so that you end up flaking on your plans with Sekijiro, he doesn’t seem too perturbed on the phone though, he knew you had a lot of work right now, he’s been guilty of the same thing on occasion. Though that was a week ago. Nothing particularly devastating had happened, nothing out of the ordinary, and yet you just felt so exhausted. Everything was a chore to you. Which made staying in bed with the lights out for days on end incredibly easy. But it made doing laundry, changing your sheets, doing the dishes, and even just finishing a glass of water basically impossible. All you had the energy to do was get up, go to your job, and come straight home and get back into bed. If your coworkers noticed your rapidly declining state no one said anything. It was rare for Sekijiro to go more than a few hours without at least a text from you. You sent him literally whatever crossed your mind, pictures, random ideas or thoughts, questions about what you should eat for lunch or dinner, should you get mocha in your coffee or vanilla? You also usually called him when you were doing some sort of mindless task, cooking or cleaning and other things of the like. Not to mention how often you saw each other, practically everyday you usually stopped in on him while he was paroling, or asked him to come to your place when he was done. Now he was going full days without hearing from you at all. Since you’d given him a raincheck on your plans earlier last week he’d hardly heard from you. He texted you first of course, he’d asked how you were feeling numerous times now, but you always just said ‘I’m alright’ or ‘a bit exhausted’ at the worst before turning the conversation around to him again. “You look nervous.” Aizawa doesn’t look up when he speaks, but it was an elephant in the room. Sekijiro was sure everyone had noticed how often he was checking his phone, or the nervous jitter in his leg every time it went off. “Yeah big guy what’s got you so rattled?” Mic agrees from his spot beside Aizawa in the teachers lounge. “Nothing really.” Vlad cracks his knuckles, a nervous habit. “I bet you told Ryo. You shouldn’t play favorites it’s-” “I didn’t tell him and I don’t play favorites.” He cuts Nemuri off. “Is it romance troubles?” “Why do you always take it there, Midnight?” “So it is.” She looks proud, “I don’t always take it there, I just have a keen eye.” Sekijiro lets out an empty huff of a laugh, “sure.” “Maybe we can help.” If anyone but Aizawa said that Sekijiro would have written it off. It’s not that Aizawa wasn’t a nice guy, he was a hero after all, but for the most part he liked to keep to himself. Him offering help must have meant that Sekijiro was jumpier than he’d previously thought. “I have this...friend..and they’ve just been sort of MIA lately is all. I don’t wanna barge in on them but they’re just not acting like themselves. I’m worried I did something to offend them, or that they’re hurt or sick and not telling me, when I ask they just write it off. I don’t want to seem like I don’t trust them but something just feels wrong.” Now that he said it out loud this did sound like the type of thing Ryo would have been really useful for, though that in mind Ryo knew you better than the others, the chance of him just barging in on you was much higher. The trio ponders this new information before Mic seems to have a lightbulb. “Why don’t you go there with a gift? That way it’s less like barging in and more like surprising!” Mic jumps, holding up an inquisitive finger, “or bring some take out or something like that!” “That’s..not a bad idea..” Sekijiro murmurs to himself, it wasn’t out of character for him to surprise you at random times either... “Great. Why don’t you head out now?” Aizawa offers and Sekijiro turns to him. “No I mean, I would but I agreed to stay back for my class so they could use the-” “We’ll be here for a while.” He’s curt but his kindness isn’t lost on the taller hero. “Thank you Eraser. I really appreciate this, I’ll repay you.” “Don’t mention it. If this’ll get you to stop shaking like a wet dog all the time.” He mutters to himself turning the paper before him over, “let us know if we can do anything else.” You were starving. Yet you didn’t have a single morsel of food in your whole apartment, not even a jar of peanut butter. The hunger pains in your stomach weren’t enough to motivate you to venture out into the world, the terrible gloomy weather wasn’t helping either. You rolled onto your chest with a groan, wondering how much longer you could go on like this. Maybe after work tomorrow you could stop some place and pick up some groceries, for now though sleep was a great distraction. Despite having a key Sekijiro still knocked, though after receiving no reply he elected to let himself in. It seems like you’re in, your shoes are by the door, and your key is on the hook above them, but the coffee table is covered in plates, utensils and half empty cups of water or juice, your favorite blanket was strewn haphazardly over the couch, dangling onto the floor, you normally folded it neatly and draped it over the back. Your work papers and other things were cluttering the arm chair on the far end of the room and there were various wrappers around the floor and couch. “Hello?” Sekijrio calls out for you but gets no reply. He clears a spot on your coffee table for the take out he brought and sets the other bag of various odds and ends on the couch before setting to straightening up. If you were asleep, which is what he figured, then you probably had a cold or something. He doesn’t wanna clean everything, incase you..liked it like this? He’s not sure himself but maybe you were trying something out. He empties the glasses into the sink and cleans them and the utensils off before discovering you had literally no food in your whole apartment. This was becoming concerning. “Hey..” He knocks on the slightly ajar door of your bedroom, there’s no light coming from inside. “I’m gonna come in alright?” He nudges the door open with his shoulder and the light from the hallway illuminates you, asleep. You didn’t look sick, though somehow you still looked worse for wear. He shuffles over to you, “hey you?” He crouches down but keeps his voice low, “wake up.” He doesn’t want to startle you or anything. His efforts are fruitless. He straightens up and looks around a bit, pondering his next move. He elects to climb into bed with you, he isn’t sure why he does this, but it feels like the right move. He carefully maneuvers your limp and sleepy form to rest against him. You start to mumble sleepily, still deadweight stacked against him, “Sek?” You’re wrapping an arm around his ribcage. “Hey’re you up?” He looks down to you, only to find you are in fact not up. So he stays like that for a while, holding you by the back of your head to his chest, his other hand running long strokes over your spine, he could reheat the take out for you when you woke up. When you do wake up you’re fully prepared for the terrible pang of hunger to be the first thing that you feel. But instead you just feel warm, you didn’t remember bringing a heavier blanket in here with you, but the warm weight on your back was comforting and...moving? Why was your blanket rubbing your back? The next thing to hit you was the scent, warm and piney to mask a slight metallic twinge, it was Sekijiro’s. “Hey you’re awake.” His hand halts, “sorry to barge in like this.” “it’s...okay.” You wipe your eyes and sit up, his hand slides off your back and wraps around to hold your waist. “You feeling alright?” The hunger hits you then. “Honestly? No..” You’re straddling his leg, hands resting on his stomach. “Yeah, I had a feeling. What’s up? It didn’t feel like you had a fever.” “I’ve just been exhausted lately, Everything’s a chore. It’s all piling up and I have no motivation, and then I isolate myself and that doesn’t help.” You scrub your face. It clicks for Sekijiro then. “Oh.” He sits up, “oh.” He holds either of your arms in his hands, “why didn’t you say something sooner? I would have come to help.” “I didn’t wanna be a burden or seem childish, normally I can be pretty high functioning when I get like this. I’m still going to work and all so I figured I’d just pull out of this slump and then..apologize to you for being so aloof. I just-” Your stomach growls. “And another thing! You don’t even have a crumb of food in here!” Sekijiro scolds you, “seriously I was worried sick when I got in. And you’re starving! You could have asked me to bring you something!” “I didn’t wanna bother you, especially when I was being so cold I-” “Okay. Don’t work yourself up.” Sekijiro uses the hand not being held by you to pull your bedhair back from your face, “well I brought food anyways. We can heat it up. So why don’t we talk after you eat?” “I’d... rather talk now..” You murmur, holding one of his hands in both of yours, “I’m really sorry Sekijiro. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I should have called you and explained and-” “That’s a lot easier said than done babe.” Sekijiro stops you, “I won’t say I wasn’t worried, I was. Aizawa even said something to me.” He laughs a little, “but...this isn’t always something you can help. I didn’t wanna seem like I didn’t trust you by just barging in so I let it go on too long. I’m sorry for not coming sooner even though I was worried.” “It’s not your responsibility to-” “Shush. Anyways, now I know this kind of thing can happen from time to time, are you okay with me coming to check on you if I’m worried?” “Of course I am..” You lean forward and drop your head onto his shoulder, “I’m sorry too, for shutting you out and being cold..I didn’t make you think I was mad at you did I?” He laughs, “It had..briefly crossed my mind.” “I’m sorry Sek..” You wrap your arms around his back, you feel it shake with quiet laughter. “It’s alright. Everything is fine now. You must be starving though, do you feel better? Enough to eat at least? Let’s go out to the couch, a change of scenery may do you good?” You agree blindly, affectionately leaning into him as he rubs your back, truthfully you weren’t even sure what you agreed to until you were rounding the corner to the living room. “Oh no it’s-” Not half as bad as you thought? “I just picked up some stuff while you were asleep.” He waves, “I left your work stuff and the blanket, I know you can be particular about them. Get comfy and I’ll go heat this up.” You sit on another bag by accident, curious you peek inside to find a niche collection of aspirin, a heating pad, and some socks among other things. You can feel your eyes getting wet. “Hey why don’t you pick a movie too?” He’s coming back with two plates, “I can even give you a pass this time I won’t mind if you fall asleep because I-” “Did you get all this for me?” You scrub at your eyes and he rushes over, quickly setting the plates down. “W-well yeah I though you were sick!” He pulls you forward again, into his chest, he wraps his arms around you, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” “It’s just really nice of you-” You sniffle, carding your hand through the back of his hair, “thank you for coming Sek.” “Well..yeah of course I came babe. I’ll always...geeze, don’t cry..I didn’t wanna make you cry. Come on buck up.” His hands are sort of aggressively rubbing your back, but it’s actually kind of comforting.. “You could never bother me with something like this. I wanna help.” “I’m sorry.” You pull away and wipe your face after he squeezes you one last time, “sorry I’m..I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now-” You sniffle and look up at him, “I'm such a baby aren’t I?” “No..I don't think so.” He reaches out and nudges a tear with his knuckle, “I think it’s sweet. Babies are cute anyways.” His palms cup your face and his thumbs rub comforting strokes over your puffy cheeks, “let’s eat, okay? Put on a movie and you can fall asleep again if you want, I’ll even carry you to bed after. Tomorrow we’ll both go to work and then come back here and start getting you back on track alright? You’d help if it were me so don’t worry about troubling me. It’s really not any trouble at all. I feel better knowing you’re taken care of so really you’re doing me a favor.”

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic The pair of you were quite literally inseparable. You called each other during every commute, texted and chatted throughout the entire day. So when he started lamenting to Aizawa that you’d pulled away a bit Aizawa told him to buck up, you probably just needed time to recharge. He’d been friends with the voice hero for over a decade now and even he needed to take time to himself on occasion, and he didn’t see Hizashi half as often as you did sometimes. He always reassures Hizashi that loudness can be exhausting but that doesn’t mean he’s disliked, sometimes people just can’t match his energy. That was probably the case now. While that put him slightly at ease he was still a bit disgruntled. You’d never had an issue talking to him about this sort of thing before, you were always the first person to ask him to quiet down, or to lower his energy level, and usually you were the one of the few who could do it in a way that was somehow sweet rather than hurtful. The fact that you were plain ignoring him now sort of...actually hurt his feelings. You answered his texts, though usually with much less gusto than before, and you always cut your talks on the phone short with some random excuse, ‘i think someone is at the door’ or, ‘sorry someone else is calling me’ or ‘my phones about to die’ and so on. When he asked to see you you deflected, you had a migraine, you were backed up at work, you wouldn’t be home till later, you had to get up early the next day, any excuse under the sun to take a raincheck on him. He spent about 2 days brooding over it, genuinely hurt by your actions and wholly unsure of your intentions. To be honest, his high energy, loudness, and general excitability was exactly what you needed right now. You never had trouble asking him for help with things before; Help me open this jar? Could you pick up dinner on your way back? Do you mind moving my couch please, I’m trying to redecorate.. Will you straighten my hair I always miss pieces in the back. So you didn’t know why you couldn’t ask him to just be here. You didn’t need anything else, just his company would have been nice. You’d had an awful week, there was so much to do and you could feel your interest waining as the seconds ticked by, it was normal for you to get dragged down this time of year. Your coworkers and teammates were understanding of it, everyone had their ticks and this was yours, they were happy to help pick up what overwhelmed you and you were grateful for that but at the same time guilt gnawed at you, you felt useless and burdensome, the last thing you wanted to do was ask yet another person for yet another favor. Begging for help when you should be able to do it yourself. You didn’t want to suck the energy out of Hizashi, you already felt guilty enough for leaning so heavily on your colleagues. In hindsight your reasoning would make no sense, but all you wanted to do now was isolate yourself. It was as if your growth wouldn’t mean anything if you didn’t achieve it all on your own. You’re never really sure how you reach these conclusions but in the end they always feel logical. That being said, it didn’t feel like you were achieving much of anything right now. All of these tears were over nothing, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed but still. You’d written it all in pen, and now the error..it’s not that you couldn’t white it out, you surely could, but the white out would look sloppy now and it would be clear you made an error but you were so close to being done you didn’t want to start the whole page over. It felt like a silly thing to cry over, but you did anyways. Eventually it tired you out enough to get you to just resign to bed. Hardly past 10 pm, but bed. You needed bed. You were so wrapped up in work that you didn’t even notice him texting and calling, you hadn’t even spoken to him once today, and then when you decided to call it a night you just left your phone at your work space. He was antsy, jumpy and even a bit irritable. Worry didn’t really begin to describe it. Eventually, late into dinner Nemuri tells him to just go to you. “Check up on them, if they really are exhausted they’ll tell you that to your face, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Everyone seemed to echo her sentiments, which was largely unsurprising considering his change in demeanor was probably the least refreshing thing to befall the group of teachers the semester. Dorming wasn’t entirely unpleasant, they liked each other enough, but when things like this happened everyone’s patience was tested. He calls when he’s outside your complex, he’s mostly sure you won’t answer but he at least wanted to try before knocking, and then eventually deciding to just use his key. Not answering wasn’t going to be enough to get rid of him, he decided he was going to get to the bottom of this tonight. Even if the issues was simply that you just needed the time to recharge from him you could say that instead of just dropping off the face of the Earth, it wasn’t like you to be such a terrible communicator. Which is why he had trouble believing that as the truth, but even if it was there needed to be some sort of conversation about how this was not effective for either party because now he was mad at you and even if you had recharged sufficiently he wouldn't’ want to see you until he cooled down. Hizashi isn’t surprised when you neglect to answer the door. He is surprised by the terrible state of your apartment though. Papers and pencils are scattered around the living room, the kitchen is practically turned upside down despite the only food on the stove being a pot of plain rice that looks hardly touched. The further he ventured into the apartment the less he worried about you being tired of him and the more he worried that something awful had happened, and he’d neglected to notice you when you were in harms way. Your bathroom wasn’t much better than your kitchen, once neat medicine cabinet shelves were disheveled, cabinet doors were left open things were far from their usual place, not to mention the pile of laundry in the corner. He hand’t announced himself yet, normally it was the first thing he did, loud and boisterous and probably incredibly annoying to anyone but you, “I’m here, where are you?? come say hello!!” But something unsettling was constricting in him, his chest, his stomach, his throat it made his shoulders tense. Had something terrible happened to you while he was trying to give you space? Had he ignored an obvious cry for help? Was he too late? Would his neglect cause him to lose someone else? The last place to look was your bedroom, but the light was off, and it was hardly past 10, he brain wrote off any possibility of you being there, you were a historic night owl why would you be in bed at 10? He wasn’t relieved by the lump under your covers, in-fact he’d go as far as to say his panic only rose, bubbling up to the point he could feel it behind his eyes, like some awful pounding headache, the kind you get after driving home from a loud concert and having to look at all the city lights at night, though this was much less euphoric. “Hey?!” He can’t help tearing the covers back, flicking the lamp on, he hates to startle you, but right now startling you would be one of the best case scenarios. You jump, it presses you back into your pillows, into your mattress, the sheets crumple beneath you, it’s just instinct, you don’t know what else to do, you throw a pillow at him. “Get out!” “Hey it’s just me!” You were flinching, bracing for some sort of retaliation, though when nothing comes you open your eyes. “Hizashi?” “Babe, thank god,” he exhales like he hadn’t taken a breath in 10 minutes, not before pulling you up into a rib crushing hug. “What are you doing here?” Your hands hover over his back, confused. “What am I doing here??” He scoffs holding the back of your head, huddling you into the crook of his neck. “Looking for you! That’s what I’m doing here!” You feel a twinge of guilt at that, especially since he’s holding you so tightly, “are you alright?” “I’m fine..Zash..I’m okay.” One of your hands fall limp into his lap. “I was so worried.” He pulls you back, “seriously I was going insane, I thought something happened to you, you got abducted or hurt or worse I thought-” He stops himself, “please don’t ever disappear like that again.” He presses his forehead into yours, “you don’t need tot ell me where you’re going, I’m not trying to keep tabs on you, just please at least tell me you’re safe. Promise me you would tell me if you weren’t, that you’d be honest with me if you were in trouble or scared-” “Of course I’d...Zash is something wrong?” “I should be asking you that! Where have you been?” He’s pulling away again, squeezing your arms, “did you just get sick of me? Is this your way of-” “No!” You jump, “no, Hizashi I’d never do that to you-” “So then why? Why isolate yourself like this? Why would you do this? Did you just need a break from me? Was I being too loud, too much to-” “Zashi please stop you’ll make me cry-” You shake your head, “this didn’t have anything to do with you. Please stop thinking that, I’m sorry I made you feel that way I-” “You’ve already been crying!” He’s inspecting your face, “why didn’t you call me, how long have you been upset for? Is that...” You can see the gears turning until the dots are connected. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner I-” “It’s not your fault don’t be sorry! I should be sorry I- and you-” You hiccup. “Me? What about me?” He Looks down at you, “this is about you babe I’m fine-” “No! You thought I was upset with you! Or tired of you! Or worse that I didn’t want to be with you and that’s not true! I worried you for no good reason and I’m sorry!” “Oh babe...no..” He shakes his head before pulling you into another hug, “no..no way it’s not like that-” “But it is! Isn’t it? You even asked me if you were too much lately! You aren’t you never are Zashi, there’s no such thing as you being to loud or annoying or..anything. I just want you to be yourself, I’m okay when you’re like that, getting to see you like that I.... I don’t want you to change anything, please don’t change anything-” “Babe that’s sweet.” He squeezes you, you feel his lips on your temple, "but I’m worried about you. What happened to make you so emotional?” “I just got overwhelmed. I hate this time of year.” You fist his shirt in your hands, “work was too much. Everyone is nice, they understand, but somehow I feel even worse taking help from them. It feels like if I can’t pull myself up on my own it makes me weak, it doesn’t count if I don’t do it by myself. Which is why I didn’t call you. Or text you, or try to see you at all. I was already leaning on so many people I didn’t want to take from you too. I didn’t wanna suck up your extra time, you energy I...you’re my boyfriend not my caretaker I just-” “Stop me if I’m butting in unfairly.” He rests his chin on your head, “and I mean this respectfully. But that’s stupid.” “Asshole! I just poured my heart out to you don’t call it stupid!” You shove him. “Hey let me finish!” He catches your hands before you can get up, “it’s stupid because I lean on you all the time.” He pulls you forward again, “are my accomplishments null because you help me out all the time?” “Zash When do I ever-” “Don’t even finish that sentence. And don’t answer a question with a question.” He scoffs, “you help me out all the time. Even if it’s not always big emotional stuff...babe this past week’s been hell without you around. Even things that feel small, like making a bed, or doing laundry or running a bath for someone make a huge difference, they mean a lot to me and knowing I’ll get to see you has always helped my mood. I lean on you for stuff like that constantly. But I don’t feel guilty because I know you like doing it. So don’t feel guilty when it’s the other way around, I wanna give too, I want you to lean on me, to take from me. Seriously, nothing would make me happier than knowing I helped you.” “I’m sorry I pushed you-” “Don’t cry over that!” He laughs, “god you’re sweet. It’s okay. I was being mean. I shouldn't have said it like that. Anyways you never answered my question.” “What question?” You look up at him. “Are all my accomplishments null? Because I lean on you? because I need you?” “...well it’s not-” “It’s a yes or no question. It is the same. It’s okay to need help, more than just opening a jar. It’s okay to need support, that’s normal. No one is meant to do it all on their own. So yes or no?” “...no you’re right. No.” You turn into his chest and he plaits his fingers through the crown of your hair. “And you’ll always be there for me right? Because you love me, don’t you?” “Of course I’ll always be here for you. And don’t ask a question like that you know I love you.” You mutter, ducking closer towards him and wrapping your arms around his ribs, “i’m sorry I didn’t call. You really didn’t think I got sick of you right?” “No.” He swings his legs onto the mattress and lays back with you, “Shota and the others said you probably just needed a break but it didn’t really sit right with me, you’re the only person who never seems to need a break from me. ‘s why I showed up. To be honest I wasn’t really that worried about your wellbeing, I just figured you were swamped with work and didn’t want me worrying, but then when I saw..you know the mess..I panicked. I thought something happened to you, and you hadn’t answered my calls all day, or even yesterday.” “I’m so sorry-” You warble, “god I’m so selfish I shouldn’t have-” “It’s okay. You were overwhelmed. But if this happens again just..try to let me know you’re safe okay? If you aren’t ready to ask for help...and on the topic of help, how can I help now that I’m here?” “I just wanna go to bed.” You murmur, latching onto his arm. “Hm..nonsense. How about I run you a bath? And hey what were you crying about before?” You flush, this was embarrassing. “I messed up the page I was writing. But I did it in pen so I didn’t know what do to and I didn’t wanna start over because I was almost done but white out will look messy and so I got upset and then I got overwhelmed and then I started crying and then I went to bed.” You press your forehead into his arm petulantly, “and if you laugh at me I’ll make you leave.” “I’m not gonna laugh.” He promises, “I’ll run you that bath, while you’re in there I’ll rewrite the page for you so you can stop worrying about it. But you should use pencil from now on.” He squeezes the nape of your neck, “sound like a square deal?” You silence says otherwise. “What’s wrong?” He looks down to you. “I want you to take the bath with me.” You mutter it, it hardly registers, “please.” “Huh? Did you just say what I think you just said?” He looks delighted, despite his tone being almost devilish, “why would you want me to do a thing like that?” “because..I missed you...and I still feel bad and I know you like taking baths with me and..” You look down at your hands where they’re interlocked, “and...I want you to wash my hair. I can figure out that page tomorrow or something.” He sighs, “I can’t be mean to you when you’re being so sweet.” You get pulled along as he sits up, “of course I’ll come, and I’ll wash your hair for you.” He cups your cheek, “what else do you want? You can have anything just ask.” “After that I...I think I just want to go to bed, and deal with the other stuff tomorrow. I want you to stay though.” “I’m gonna have a heart attack.” “Hey! Don’t say things like that! It’s bad luck!” “Don’t be so sweet then!” He argues, pulling you to stand. “Of course I’ll stay. I’ll stay tomorrow, and help then too, if you want. You don’t have to decide right now I know asking for help can be hard. In the meantime let’s just take that bath okay?”

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might Retirement had left Yagi with some rather pleasant spare time. He’d never gotten to have many hobbies before but now he was enjoying freedoms life as All Might had never permitted. Chief among them being a continuous close proximity to you. Even though you didn’t technically live together it didn’t really feel as though either of you had a designated space either. It felt right for Yagi to be in your space, using your things, like he belonged there. It felt equally right for you to be in his space, existing and using his things as you pleased. You didn’t need permission and neither did he, it just felt right to exist around each other. Especially now that he had the extra time to spend with you and you both realized how easy and comfortable being together was. Though right now nothing felt easy or comfortable or right, your entire existence felt like a pair of jeans that was way too tight. Just taking a breath that was too deep felt uncomfortable. Your closeness to Yagi made the shift in your mood apparent to him from the very beginning. It was silly in hindsight. The proposal had a 50/50 chance anyways and it’s not like you had anything directly to do with it’s failure, it was just the last straw, the tiny thing that made all the other things seem huge, and as quickly as you’d realized that your mood had already plummeted. You’d run out of motivation, any drive to do anything but sleep and drag yourself to work had dissipated, at work you did what you needed to to get by and afterwards you went back to your place, even though Yagi’s was closer. Just being with someone else privately seemed like it would be overwhelming. Despite the fact that Yagi was the least overwhelming person on the planet, if anything you’d say he had the opposite effect, he was amazing at pulling your attention away from the little overwhelming details. However you couldn’t shake the gnawing nervousness that popped up at the thought of seeing him or anyone really. So when you crossed paths it was short, you poked into the school with lunch, into his place with dinner, you never stuck around to eat though. A conference call pulled you away, an important meeting you couldn’t be late for, you were catsitting and it needed your attention, you promised to call a relative and they’re just soo chatty, a late assignment needed tending to, all overused excuses that you normally practiced on everyone but Yagi, usually to get the pair of you out of an unwanted dinner or social event. You tried to avoid letting him into your apartment, you knew it was getting cluttered, you avoided the dishes and your laundry like the plague, putting another plate in the sink atop the pile only fanned your anxiety but the thought of actually cleaning it up makes you sicker than the sight of it. You tried to keep the front living room neat, luckily the overflowing sink was out of sight around a small corner, and the laundry cluttered a small closet out of sight as well. The only things out of place at first glance were the shoes, the coat rack and the copious amount of cups, cans and bottles littered around the apartment, some empty, some full, others in between. Of course he noticed these things, to a passerby it wasn’t extreme, but Yagi sensed the shift in you like it was a shift in himself. Though you insisted it was fine, you were just exhausted, it was the busy season after all, come February things would plateau. You promised him. So he resigned, he trusted you after all if you said it was okay that must mean you were dealing with it on your own. To be fair you were trying to. You honestly were. You just didn’t know how to ask for help in a way that didn’t make your stomach want to grow legs and run away from you. You said you were okay though, even if he didn’t totally buy it he’d wait patiently for you to tell him the problem, to seek him out. He knows how overwhelming it is for people to pry when you aren’t ready to divulge information. He doesn’t want to contribute to anymore bad feelings. However he could tell you were hiding something, still he plays dumb for your sake. He doesn’t try to poke further into your apartment, to your bedroom, or kitchen, places he’d normally allow himself without double checking with you, he doesn’t prod at you when you seem unusually emotional, when your excuse doesn’t hold up. He know’s you’ll come to him when you’re ready, at least that's the hope. When you were like this a mediocre day is a terrible one, and a genuinely bad day is world ending. Today had been genuinely bad. You woke up early to prepare for a meeting, you put extra time into getting ready, you even stopped for a coffee at your favorite spot, all things you hadn’t had the energy to do even just a day ago, you really felt like today may be when things start looking up. But then the first coffee the barista made you was burnt, the machine was acting up, you assured her it was fine, it wasn’t her fault after all, you woke up early so you had time to wait for another one. Even that wasn’t really sullying your mood, it was nice to chat with the young girl while she remade your drink, there were no expectations of you, she didn’t care about pile of energy drink cans in your apartment, or the mountain of dishes in your sink, she didn’t even know the existed and she’d probably never consider that they did as a possibility. She was friendly and she always looked happy to see you. But then your bus was early and you missed it waiting for your coffee. You could see it receding down the street. It’s okay though, you woke up early. You had time. Then it was raining. Then the next bus arrived but skipped your stop so you had to walk. And suddenly all the time you put into your hair meant nothing. Nothing terrible happened in the meeting, it was as lifeless and uneventful as ever, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. And somehow your bus skips you stop again on the way home. Why hadn’t it stopped raining? You’re about to climb into bed, drenched clothes and all when you hear someone knocking on your door. It was Yagi, you could recognize it anywhere. “Hey Yagi I’m really-” You want to send him away, you do, you don’t want him seeing you so upset you felt like a child, but he just looked so concerned. “I just got back.” You change your phrase last minute, “wanna come in?” He sits on your couch, you appreciate how he doesn’t try to peek into the kitchen. You know you haven’t been subtle. “I’ll wait here. You can go change into something warm. Please.” Yagi takes your hands, “and we can order dinner.” He wants to offer to make you tea, but something stops him from it. “You’re shaking. You must be freezing. I’m cold just looking at you. Go on, I’ll sit on the couch.” So you do what he says, sort of grateful for the demand since you would have fallen asleep like this, freezing and miserable and wet, and woken up sick the next morning. “Much better! Good you even got a towel! Comfy?” He’s grinning at you as you round the corner, now in dryer, warmer apparel. “Sit in front of me, I’ll dry your hair for you a little, it’s still dripping.” You nod as you follow his directions, any excuse to not have to look at his concerned face, getting out of his earnest blue gaze was top priority. “The rain was totally out of left field huh? It even lasted all day.” His hands are big and warm, even through the towel how gentle his touch was is obvious. “Yeah..” You draw your knees up to your chest, “I couldn’t seem to avoid it.” “Well at least we can warm you up now.” You can tell his grinning again, trying to brighten up your mood. You felt like an ugly gloomy cloud, and he was a big bright cartoonish sun. “Go ahead, you can lean your head on my leg, close your eyes. I can see your head drooping.” You do that too. You sit there for a quiet 5 or so minutes, it does wonders to quell the nervousness in your stomach. You feel him pull the towel away and card big familiar hands through your only slightly damp hair. His palms are soft and comfortable against you, it feels right. “You’re exhausted.” He observes, combing your hair off your forehead and pulling your head back a bit, closer to him. “Mhm.” You don't open your eyes to give your minimal reply, instead thoughtlessly coiling an arm around his leg. “Why don’t you come sit up here with me? It’ll be more comfortable. Your hair’s much dryer now.” “You don’t have to baby me.” You stand up then, “I’m alright.” “Ok I won’t baby you.” Yagi’s smile is soft and he casts it upwards to where you stand before him, “how about some tea? Are you up for making it? I’m still a little cold from the rain. Then after that you can some back and sit with me. Not because I want to baby you, but because I want to sit with you okay?” “okay..” You relent, “I can do that.” “Perfect. I’ll wait here.” You don’t know why you bit at him like that. You watch the kettle warm up as the guilt gnaws at you. It’s not like you were mean. All you did was tell him not to baby you. That wasn’t mean. You didn’t bite at him. But you kind of did. He was just trying to help. You aren’t mad at him so why are you mad? You open the cabinet. Of course there’s not a single mug to be found. You venture to the sink in search of two. You’ve found the last one by the time the kettle starts to whistle which startles you enough to get you to drop the stupid glassware. The ceramic shattering on the floor is sort of akin to a dam breaking. Tears are stinging your eyes. Things were looking up, Yagi was here, he was gonna take care of you, you were gonna feel better and now this stupid mug. You crouch down to pick it up. “Are you alright? I heard a crash?” Yagi’s there, of course he is. “Hey be careful, you’ll cut yourself.” He’s turning heat below the kettle off, "sweetheart here l-" and then rushing toward you. "I've got it." You were collecting the bigger shards in your hand. "Let me. I’ll get a broom, before you cut yourself. Please let me." He insists and you snap, ever so slightly, "Yagi. I said I have it." “Hey, okay, it’s okay," he takes a step back, "do you wanna be alone for a minute?" He offers and you sigh, "Tosh I just-" then you slice your palm open, "oh fuck everything," you hiss and drop the bits you were holding and Yagi kneels beside you, "hey." "I'm sorry." You could feel yourself starting to cry, the stinging tears pouring out, "i'm sorry I got so short with you." "Hey it's fine, I understand." Yagi murmurs, a large hand rubbing your back, "it's alright, leave this for now so we can clean your hand up." He takes your wrist in his hand, but you don’t say anything. “Do you hear me?" "Yes." You nod, and take in a deep breath, "yes I hear you...yeah let me just get the-" "It's okay, the shards aren’t going anywhere." You just sort of stare at the muddled mess of ceramic and now a bit of blood mixed up on the floor. "Hey." Yagi takes your face in his hands, "look at me." "I'm looking at you." Your lips barely move. "No, look at me, not through me. Ignore the mug, look at me." He presses and so you do, you focus on him, his face, his eyes, his nose, his hands on your cheeks, the warmth that radiated from him. "Let's clean you up." You nod, "yeah. Sorry." "Don't be sor-" Yagi stops himself, "it's alright, not a big deal. No permanent damage. Go sit on the couch, I’ll get the first aid kit.” “My bathroom’s really-” “It’s alright.” He promises, “it’s okay. I’m here to help you. That doesn’t bother me. None of this,” he gestures around, “bothers me. I’m here for you, whatever you need that to mean. Go sit down okay?” He wipes a stream of tears away. It’s quickly replaced but it’s a nice gesture. You do manage to get the loudest tears out before Yagi comes in. "Alright let's see the damage." He opens the first aid kit on the arm of the couch beside him, "does it hurt?" "No-" Your voice gives your current state away. "Sweetheart.." Yagi kisses your temple, "come on.." "I'm sorry-" "I don't mean like that." "I know-" You wipe your eyes, "I know..I’m sorry I just-" He shushes you and extends a hand, you hold out your palm to him, you had pressed an old face cloth to it which did help ebb the bleeding a bit. "It's not that bad." You murmur as he wipes the blood away, "just a lotta blood.." “That’s how it always is.” He murmurs as he presses the wet cloth to the cut and pulls your hands up to his lips, kissing the damp fabric over the wound. You tilt your head at the sight of it, "I love you Tosh..I’m sorry." "It’s okay sweetheart, it’s alright. I love you too." He murmurs back, squeezing the cloth for a little longer before pulling it away. He goes through the routine you'd so regularly followed on him, before, when he was All Might all the time, cuts and bumps and head injuries that you always tended to for him, you cleaned up all his wounds before wrapping some bandage around it and kissing it, he mimics the routine on you "good?" "Good." You nod back voice soft and wet with tears. "I'm no expert but..did pick up a few things from one." He grins and you snort a little which makes him coo, "hey there's that smile 've been missing." He kisses the high of your cheek, "how do you feel?" "A little better..." You nod, "sorry you had to see that..." "I know that you feel like you have to apologize for everything but trust me okay? Stuff like this? I'll always rather help with. It's never a chore, but even if it were that’s okay. I want to be there for you." He kisses your forehead, "I wanna make you happy." "Then.. thank you I guess.." You look up at him and he wraps you in a hug. You spend a comfortable few moments there until he pulls away. "Don’t mention it...now," He stands and takes you with him, "let's go clean up the mug? Together. Then we’ll sort out the other stuff tomorrow, together too.”

#vlad king x reader #kan sekijiro x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #all might x reader #bnha x reader #bnha requests

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

I Hope We Never See October (3/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Not gonna lie, I forget I'm writing this story, remember, and then the moment I sit down to write, I get called away. But here's part three!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: One | Two | Three

-/-

His head is pounding. It’s been awhile since it has pounded like this. Usually, it��s from a lack of sleep from the nightmares or the stress. This morning, he knows it’s from the rum. He did everything he could to cancel it out – coffee, water, food, medicine – but his head is still pounding. He is a bloody lightweight now.

Huh.

Killian is making it sound like that’s a bad thing, when really, it’s good. A week ago he was standing with a beer bottle in his hand early in the morning tempted to drown his entire day away. Last night, he made it the entire day without wanting to get pissed and only had two small drinks to toast his friends goodbye.

That’s progress.

This hangover, though, damn. It’s a sign he’s making progress, but damn.

Or he’s simply getting old, which is something else he doesn’t want to think about.

“Fuck,” Killian moans, pressing his fingers against his temples as he opens his eyes. His neck is also killing him, probably from how he slept on this damn couch all night. He should have driven home, but he didn’t trust himself to. Besides, Ariel had offered the couch before she went to bed.

Emma had too.

He’d nearly left after she offered. She was likely only doing it because she assumed Ariel or Eric already offered. He gets the feeling the woman doesn’t like him, which usually isn’t something that happens with him, and that intrigues him. It also makes him realize how much of an asshole he is.

How has he gotten to a point in his life where he expects women to always fancy his company?

Killian sits up, his muscles aching, and slowly, he rises from the couch. The lights in the house are all off, and he knows he can leave now with no one knowing the wiser that he slept over, that he felt bad enough to not be able to drive home. Or maybe that he didn’t want to spend another night in that giant house by himself.

The floor creaks beneath him with each step he takes, but no one seems to stir. Killian finds a notepad and pen in the kitchen and quickly scribbles a note to Ariel and Eric. He said his goodbyes to them last night, and he’ll talk to them on the phone at some point today. He doesn’t need to stick around to say another goodbye this morning. It’s still early enough that the sun hasn’t risen, and they won’t be up for hours. Killian finishes his note, grabs his wallet and keys from the counter, and heads out the front door to his car. It takes him a moment to find his car, to remember what said of the road they drive on over here, but he eventually spots it across the street under a large tree when a light from the house turns on.

Killian turns to see it’s coming from an upstairs window, and Emma Swan is standing between the curtains. He nods, and he swears he sees the slightest nod in return before the curtains rustle and she turns off the light.

She didn’t get in until two this morning, and she’s up at six. How the hell is she functioning?

Then again, how is he functioning?

Killian’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and after he gets in his Jeep, he checks the message.

Elsa Jones: The girls say thank you for their new Leggo set. My bare feet do not.

Killian laughs and puts his phone back in his pocket. That’s how he’s functioning. He may have flown across an ocean, but he’d never leave Ally and Sophia. They’ve already lost enough, and Liam will have his head, someway and somehow, if he doesn’t do everything he can to make sure all his girls are happy.

To make sure Killian is happy too.

“Bloody hell,” Killian whispers to himself as he cranks the engine, “it’s too early to be thinking like this.”

He should be able to have at least a little reprieve from the voices in his head.

-/-

Killian doesn’t leave the house much over the next few days. He doesn’t have reason to. He’s got everything he could possibly need in the house, including his own private stretch of beach that he walks along a few times a day, but the repetition of nothing begins to drive him mad. He trains in almost the same way as he did when he was playing, and while that takes up a good portion of his day, it’s not enough to keep him occupied. He reads the books that the owners of the house left behind but finds it’s mostly romance novels he can’t stomach. For a day or two, he binges Netflix, leaving a permanent imprint of his ass in the couch cushions, but there’s only so much time he can spend staring at screens.

Elsa and the girls call more than once a day with them being on summer holidays, and he gets a call or two from Scarlet, who finally had the bullocks to ask Belle out to dinner. That was good to hear since Killian has been giving Will shit about doing that for years now, and it’s good to see that people are moving on with their lives.

He’s not, not really, but he’s not trying to move on so much as he’s trying to not be a total disaster every day.

Sitting in this house alone all day every day isn’t helping. Why did anyone think sending him to be alone would be a good idea in the wake of his brother’s death? He knows it’s more so the scum English tabloids would leave him alone and he could fix his public image so he doesn’t go broke before he’s forty from loss of sponsorships and possible opportunities to get involved in the league, but damn, this was a bad idea.

At least he’s not drinking himself to sleep anymore.

Or drinking himself awake. He thinks that feat is slightly more impressive.

Killian puts his bottle of water down and opens the door that leads to the deck. It’s cool out today, the sun hidden behind the clouds, and since he cannot stay here anymore, he decides he’ll go for a run. It’s been years since he ran outside and not on a pitch or a treadmill, but maybe it’ll be a good distraction. He’s noticed more people filling into the houses around him, the summer tourists showing up in large droves now, so at the very least he can pass time watching people while hoping no one watches him.

It takes him little time to get dressed, lace up his trainers, and pop headphones in his ears before he’s out the door. The roads aren’t flat around his house, so he drives the Jeep a few miles until he finds smoother, less crowded ground. Maybe it’s a way to keep him from running that little bit longer, but mostly he knows his knees need the flat surfaces right now.

He really has gotten old, hasn’t he?

Eventually, he finds what looks like a good path behind a long stretch of beach, finds a place to park, and then he starts running.

It’s horrible, which was expected, but he does it anyway. There are families lining the beaches, music playing from speakers and phones, and he watches as boats skip out on the water. Maybe he should rent a boat for a weekend and take it out. It’d be nice to be out on the water again. He hasn’t been since Liam’s death, the fear of something similar happening to him despite the unlikeliness, but maybe one day while he’s here. It’s not as if he has anything better to do.

Killian runs until the endorphins kick in and then again until his legs get tired. He’s an idiot, however, because he doesn’t think to turn around to his Jeep.

Bloody hell.

He stops and reaches his hands over his head, stretching out his shoulders, and looks to see what’s around him. It’s mostly beach, but there are several restaurants and shops a few blocks down. He notices the familiar Blue Dog Tavern sign and the long deck filled with their outside seating. That means he’s minutes away from a populated area of shops and restaurants where he could cool down and catch his breath, but he still walks toward the Blue Dog. There’s another diner around here he went to that was horrible, and he doesn’t feel like taking the chance again. He’s still over his phase of twenty-four-hour diners. He doesn’t think he can handle more sticky tables.

Killian cools down on the walk to the restaurant, taking in the people walking along the sidewalk, and he dodges them until he’s inside and the cool air is hitting against his skin. It’s past the prime of the lunch rush, so the place is mostly empty. He thinks of going to the bar again, but as he wants to stay as out of the way as possible, he asks the hostess to seat him at a booth in the corner.

“Is someone coming to meet you?” she asks, smacking her gum as she hands him a menu.

“I’m afraid not. Just me today.”

She smiles, popping her gum again, and leans forward, casually popping a button on her shirt. Killian tries not to snicker at the obvious attempt, mostly because she is attractive, but the last thing he needs is to burn more bridges at one of the few places in towns he likes. “Well, if you want company, all you have to do is come find me. I’m Marina.”

He raises his brow. “Seems like you were born to work by the ocean then.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because your name is Marina.”

She cocks her head to the side and laughs. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, love.” Killian smiles and nods toward the front. “I believe you’re needed.”

She jumps and walks away, obviously putting a little sway in her hips when she moves, and in another life, he’d ask her to join him for lunch and meet her after her shift. He nearly does it now, but the man he’s been and the man he’s trying to be war with each other in his mind.

No burning bridges, he reminds himself. He’s done enough of that in his lifetime.

He orders water and coffee and avoids eye contact with Marina as much as possible, especially when she keeps finding ways to come by his table despite there being no other customers in his section. He texts Will and Rob, sends Elsa some pictures of the beach to show the girls, responds to Ariel about him doing another video conference with a hospital back home, and then he puts his phone away and tries to focus on his meal.

Unsurprisingly, it does not take a hell of a lot of focus to eat a sandwich and chips.

The music coming over the intercoms keeps him occupied for awhile, so does the television hanging over the bar until someone changes it to ESPN, and eventually Killian starts fidgeting for headphones and something to do while he waits for his meal to settle and drinks another cup of coffee. He needs to start the trek back to his Jeep, but that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Heather, I get that you don’t want to be here, but your uncle and your parents want you here. And you either need to take it up with them or start doing some actual work.”

Killian recognizes that voice, and he sinks in his booth. He was hoping to get away with not running into her here today, if only to save himself the headache. He doesn’t have any paper money on hand, so he can’t pay and leave, and he imagines there’s very little chance he’ll avoid her when she’s walking right toward him with Heather, his server from last week.

She’s in those bloody jean shorts again. They barely cover anything and hug her ass to show it off, and the blouse she’s wearing is fitted to her skin. Her hair is down, hitting past midway on her back, and she looks just as gorgeous as she has every other time he’s seen her…which is exactly why he needs her to not notice him.

So, of course, she does.

Right after she teaches Heather how to clean the tables, she looks up and over at Killian, raises both brows, and walks toward him with her arms crossed beneath her chest. “Anything I can help you with today?”

“The check may be nice, Swan. Lovely to see you again.”

“Uh-huh.” She looks over her shoulder, holds up a signal toward Killian’s server, and he hustles to the back, presumably to get the check. “I can recommend other restaurants in the area. This place is great, but I promise there are better ones.”

He shrugs. “I like the food and how calm it is during off hours. Are you enjoying your house with no Fishers in it?”

“I don’t mind when they come to stay.”

It’s a lie if he’s ever heard one. Killian points to his temple and taps. “I know this may surprise you, but I’m actually quite perceptive.”

Her smile is tight, and she tucks her hair behind her ears. “The Fishers are great landlords, and I can’t complain.”

“I’m not going to tell them what you’re saying, love.”

She smiles again, and he can tell she’s still faking it for him. “All I can say is I’m glad not to have strange men scaring me in my kitchen at two in the morning. Now they simply show up at my work.”

He lifts his glass. “It’s good food, and you’re right, I don’t know of many other reliable eateries around here. Some of them seem a little too…made for tourists.”

“And the Blue Dog Tavern doesn’t? I mean, come on. We have a giant blue animated dog cutout outside. We’re on all those lists of ‘Places in Martha’s Vineyard you have to visit.’ We’re made for tourists like you.”

“I am not a tourist.”

“Says the man who is renting one of the big houses out in Edgartown and staying here for the summer. I’m guessing you go to the beach and lounge around the pool and go through way too many of the bad books the owners of the house have on their shelves.”

Killian huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the booth. That was a little too spot on. “How do you know where I’m staying? Wait, no. Ariel, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma smiles, and God, it feels like a hell of an accomplishment to get her to smile. “She went on and on about the great Killian Jones.”

“Ah, so you know who I am then?” He leans forward and waggles his brows, flashing his brightest smile.

“Yeah, a rich British tourist who is friends with my landlords.” Someone calls her name from across the restaurant, and Emma holds one finger up. “Your check will be with you soon. I’ll ask Marina to give you some other restaurant recommendations on your way out. You’ll get sick of this place soon enough.”

“I’m perfectly happy with it, Swan.”

She shrugs and walks away, and Killian chuckles to himself. He doesn’t understand this woman at all, but she intrigues him.

He knows that’s a dangerous game to play.

Killian gets the check, pays it, and before he can escape, Marina corners him to give him more recommendations. She ends up veering into bars and clubs on the island and the surrounding towns, asking him if he wants her to show him around, but he declines and takes the list of places. Maybe he’ll check them out, but the last thing he needs is to go to a club. A bar, maybe, but not a club. He’s learned that there’s a hell of a difference.

He’s also learned that he’s bored to tears in this place, and no amount of calls to Ariel and Elsa can solve that boredom. He finds himself googling pre-season training information, checking up on mates and rivals, and while that’s a bit of a slip-up, he does manage to still stay away from looking himself up. He never used to have the urge to google himself or to read any of the tabloids, but ever since his retirement, he’s been curious. Were people sad? Happy? Did he leave any kind of lasting impact? Or did they all just see him as the drunk, washed up old man with a dirtied past?

That is a path he absolutely cannot go down, and since he’s already run a half marathon today, he decides to shower and get dressed to go to one of the places Marina recommended. If his time alone doesn’t start to get less depressing, he thinks he’s going to have to fly back to London and bother Elsa and the girls until they kick him out. He’ll pay for the remaining time on the house, but he won’t be staying there.

While the sun sets, Killian drives down new roads on the island, going to different towns and neighborhoods to see what others are doing, before ending up at a bar near his house. Marina said it was a spot for locals with good food and a quiet energy, so he doubts Marina has ever stepped foot into it. Killian pushes open the old oak door, and the lights inside are dimmed, the music quiet. There’s a guy playing guitar in the corner hidden between two pillars, and Killian finds himself sitting at the opposite end of the bar on a stool that’s cushion squeaks when he sits down.

Charming.

“You eating, drinking, or both?” The bartender asks, wiping his hands off with a cloth.

“Eating. Have any recommendations?”

“You have an objection to seafood?” the old man asks.

“Not a one.”

“Good. I’ll fix you up with the daily catch.”

Killian nods as the man makes his way through a door behind the bar, and then Killian swivels on his stool, looking around the place. He doesn’t know about the food yet, but Marina was right. It definitely has a quiet energy to it. There are people in nearly every booth and at every table, but there’s a hushed tone except for a laugh in the booth nearest him. His eyes are drawn there, and to both his surprise and horror, he finds Emma Swan with her head tilted back with laughter.

Fuck.

She’s definitely going to think he’s stalking her, and as hungry and bored as he is, he’s still tempted to leave. So of course, that’s when Emma stops laughing and looks directly at him.

Bollocks. Utter bollocks.

She blinks and stares at him a little longer, her brows raising before falling, and then she turns back to whoever is sitting in the booth with her. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her arms moving, but he turns on the stool until he can see her no longer, wishing at the very least he had a water to nurse.

“Hiya. Come sit in our booth with us.”

Killian twists and looks at the brunette who’s now sitting next to him. “Pardon?”

She sticks out her hand, and he takes it, shaking it. “Ruby Lucas. You’re Killian Jones, the – ”

“There’s no need to – ”

“ – the guy who scared Emma half to death at her house in the middle of the night,” Ruby completes, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “And I must say, you are much more attractive than she described.”

“So she talked about me then?”

“In her own special Emma way.” Ruby tilts her head back toward their booth. “And in my own special Ruby way, I’m inviting you to eat dinner with us. It’s me, Emma, and this super wholesome woman named Mary Margaret who will take you home and bake you cookies while asking you about your childhood because she had a good one of those.”

Killian chuckles, cheeks still flushed from him thinking Ruby knew who he was earlier – he is a pompous, entitled ass obviously – and from being invited to their table. “I couldn’t intrude.”

“I insist that you do.”

He likes her, he decides. She’s stunning and funny with no filter, but she reminds him too much of a dirtier version of Anna. It’s a rather peculiar comparison, but it’s true. It’s also half the reason he agrees to switch tables, rising from his stool and walking toward the booth. The other half a reason is the blonde woman with her face pressed into her forearms against the table top.

She looks beyond thrilled for him to be joining them.

“Oh, Emma, you were right, he is handsome!”

Emma bangs her head into the table as who he presumes is Mary Margaret smiles at him from across the booth. Killian slides onto the seat and elbows Emma’s side before patting her shoulder. “It’s alright, darling. I told all my mates you were beautiful, so we’re even.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughs, grinning at her, and slowly, she peels herself off the table. “Just so you know, I’m only here because Marina recommended it.”

“Remind me to fire her in the morning.”

“So,” Mary Margaret interrupts, tucking her short hair behind her ear, “tell us about yourself, Killian. Where are you from? What do you do for work? How long are you planning on being here?”

“Good God, Marg,” Emma sighs, slumping down, “give the man some room to breathe.”

“What? I’m curious.”

“You’re nosy is what you are,” Emma corrects.

“Aren’t we all?” Killian shuffles in his seat, hoping they move on to another subject, but when Mary Margaret turns to him, he knows she isn’t one to forget. “So, how long are you staying?”

“I have the keys to the house I’m renting until the first of October, but I imagine I’ll leave sooner.”

“And why’s that?” she asks.

Killian shrugs as the man behind the bar drops off a glass of water at the table and tells Killian his food will be ready in ten minutes. “I’m afraid no matter how nice it is here, I don’t know many people. I miss the people I’m closest to. A man can only spend so much time alone.”

“Then why’d you book a house for so long?”

“I needed to get away.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“Marg,” Emma interrupts, placing her hand over her friend’s, “please. You don’t have to know everything about him. Not everyone wants to reveal their entire life to complete strangers.”

She’s right. He doesn’t. But for some inane reason, he doesn’t think he’d mind revealing most of his life to her.

He has obviously lost his damn mind.

But it’s nice to spend a night with other people, to be included in the conversation, and while Mary Margaret and Ruby are delightful, he finds Emma captures his attention, not that this surprises him.

What does surprise him, however, is how much friendlier she is in this environment. He knows it’s her friends and not him, and maybe the glass of wine she had with dinner, but it’s nice to see her laugh freely and blush when Ruby tells stories of Emma he cannot imagine knowing otherwise. He can’t imagine Emma ever scaling a building to break into an ex’s apartment to get her favorite sweater back, but then again, that seems exactly like something she would do if she wanted it badly enough.

He fancies her.

He has no business fancying her, none at all, but when he ends up driving all three women to their homes because Ruby and Mary Margaret had too much to drink and Emma can’t drive the stick shift in Ruby’s car, he accepts Emma’s invitation inside for a cup of coffee.

He also accepts her invitation upstairs into her bed.

To hell with the consequences and burning bridges. He’ll deal with those in the morning when he isn’t so enticed by the trail of freckles running down Emma’s bare stomach.

-/-

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#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan

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