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lanadelnegan · 9 months

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My Girl

S7!Negan x Reader

Requested from anon: hey! loving the blog and every story you post! i was wondering if you’d do a story of a reader’s first time being with S7 Negan who is an asshole at first but then goes soft because he accidentally made her cry??

OOOH I'm gonna have some FUN with this one. And thank you so much <3.

Summary: Rick's oldest daughter, y/n, loses her virginity to Negan.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, virgin first time, vaginal sex, daddy-kink, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 40), Rick walks in on Negan eating you out.. (twice), degrading language, mushy romantic Negan, Negan fucks you in nothing but his leather jacket

A/N: This is my favorite fic I have written by far and I hope you love it as much as I do cuz I am obsessed.

"Carl, take your sisters upstairs and don't come down until I say it's safe." I lift Judith out of her high chair and follow Carl up the stairs.

Our dad has always treated us like Carl's the older one, even though he's two years younger than me, but I don't mind. If anything, it takes some of the pressure off of being big sis all the time.

I hear Negan's voice booming in the distance as my dad opens the door to head back outside. This has become part of our weekly routine at this point. Negan and his men went from monthly visits to weekly visits over the past couple months, but I don't mind that either.

The more I get to see him, the merrier.

I move the bedroom curtains slightly, peeking through my window until my eyes find Negan standing in the street in front of our house. I'm able to make out what they're saying if I listen closely enough.

"Rickyyy, I missed ya. Where's that sweet daughter of yours hiding? .....The older one of course." I can't stop the grin that appears on my face when he asks about me.

"This isn't about her. Get what you need, and leave." My dad stands firmly planted with his hands on his hips and my eyes roll at his attitude. Maybe if my dad would just be civil with Negan all of this could stop. I revert my gaze back to Negan.

"Now, Prick, you know I can't leave without seeing my girl."

His girl... The butterflies in my stomach flutter at the sound of that.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Carl asks rudely from across the room while holding Judith and bouncing her so she doesn't cry.

I quickly glare at Carl before turning my gaze back towards the window. When I look back down, Negan is looking up at me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I can't look away, and he lets his gaze linger a little too long as well, prompting my dad to look at my window. I quickly drop the curtain and back away.

"Take Judith to her room and put her down for her nap." I instruct Carl. He stares at me suspiciously. "Go! What did I just say?" I snap impatiently. He shakes his head but ultimately leaves.

"You're always so weird when he comes around." He says under his breath. I close my door behind them and go back to the window, peeking again, but this time everyone's gone. I rush to go see what's going on, but as soon as I swing my door open and run out, I crash into a tall, solid figure. My eyes widen as I look up at the man in the leather jacket.

"Hey, doll. Miss me?"

"Uh - I - where's my dad?" I stutter nervously, peaking around him.

"Busy getting supplies for me. He'll be busy for the next hour, so I thought I'd come keep you company."

Negan's been visiting Alexandria for months now, and each time he comes, our talks get longer and flirtier. Well, he flirts with me and I pretend to be annoyed, mostly so others don't think I like him. If they only knew how much I think about his beard between my legs.

There's something about him that intrigues me.. fascinates me even. I'm ashamed to admit I've even touched myself a couple times - okay, a lot of times - to the thought of him.

When I don't respond, he backs us into my bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He slides his shoes and jacket off, sitting on my bed and leaning back with his feet propped up. I blush at the sight of him in my bed and restrain myself from ripping my clothes off here and now. A chill runs through my body, making me noticeably shake but I try to play it off. He probably things I'm scared, when in reality I just want him.

"Relax, I'd never hurt you darlin'. Unless you want me to." He winks as he leans back against the headboard getting more comfortable.

"I know." And I do... for some reason, I know he wouldn't hurt me.

He bites his bottom lip playfully and raises his eyebrows while patting the bed next to him.

I nervously walk over and sit down before leaning back, mimicking his position. My bed is a twin, so it doesn't allow much room to ourselves. My shoulder is pressed against his and the simple act has my body on fire already. I glance over and let my eyes roam up his white t-shirt to his handsome face. He watches me with amusement while his leg presses against mine teasingly.

"Sweetheart, I've been around the block long enough to know when a girl wants my dick. And I can practically hear that pussy fucking purring every time I come near you." He grins at me like he knows all my secrets.

My face burns with embarrassment at his words.

"I bet I could make you blush even harder than that, doll." His grin stretches wider but I stay silent, letting him do the talking.

"Of course.. I wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable wi-"

Before he can finish, I press my lips to his hard and climb on top of him. His mouth parts, letting my tongue in and his subtle moan makes my pussy flutter. He tastes like whiskey and smells like leather and I feel high off the taste of him as we kiss passionately. I grind my hips desperately into him and feel his bulge grow underneath me.

"Negan... I need you."

"I know baby." He breathes out.

My hands fumble with his belt and pants until I get them undone. He watches me as I pull out his cock and my pussy is already sore from just looking at it. No way it's gonna fit.

"How do you want it, baby? You gonna be a big girl and ride daddy?" His hands squeeze my ass underneath my dress and he practically growls when he realizes I'm not wearing panties.

"It's like you knew I was coming. Such a bad little girl." His fingers tease my opening and I'm embarrassed that I'm already pathetically soaked for him.

"All for me?" He slides a finger through my slit and brings it up to his mouth for a taste. "So fucking sweet."

I slide myself against his cock that's now slippery with my wetness and wonder how I'm gonna fit that thing inside me.

The big dick energy definitely checks out.

I hover above him naively, thinking I can actually take him. The tip just barely pushes through my opening and I moan at the sudden pressure. His hands grip my ass, guiding me down over him.

"Come on baby, that's it." He praises me as I keep sliding down. I stop when I can't take anymore, realizing I have at least four more inches to go.

"Oh, I know my little slut can take more than that."

I shake my head. "Negan, I don't think I -"

"You can, and you will, doll. I didn't come all the way here for you to only take half of my dick."

Tears fill my eyes as I try to sit all the way on him, wanting to make him proud. I make it another inch before the pain is too much. Not only with how deep he is, but he's so wide I think he may actually be ripping me apart.

"Deeper, y/n." He demands.

When I try again and fail, I quickly climb off of him frustrated. "I can't Negan, I'm trying!" He sits up in the bed, his feet on the floor now.

"Bend over."

"W-what?"

"Do not make me ask again." His jaw clenches as he stares at me seriously.

I lay myself over him, my ass facing upwards on his lap.

"You're going to take all of me, baby. If my wives at home can take me, I expect nothing less from you."

He doesn't even give me a warning before bringing his hand down painfully on my ass making me yelp. He chuckles darkly before smacking me again. He rubs the sensitive spot before teasing both of my holes.. One with his thumb and the other with his middle finger.

"What would daddy say if he could see you right now? Bent over my fucking lap and dripping for me like a little whore..." He pushes his thumb and finger deep inside each of my openings and I bite my lip hard at the pain.

I know he's trying to be all dominant right now.. I'm not oblivious to how rough sex works, but my eyes still sting with tears at his crude words. I shouldn't have built my hopes up that Negan could actually care and be gentle with me.

I sniffle as the tears fall, trying to wipe the snot dripping from my nose.

He quickly pulls me up and his eyes are filled with concern.

"Baby? Hey, look at me." He cups my face gently as I sit on the bed next to him.

"I - I liked you." I choke out. "I was the only one here who actually cared about you and saw you as a person.. and you.. you just see me as a stupid object you can shove your dick in.... You just ruined my first experience with a man. I hope you're happy." I sob while looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He presses his forehead to mine, looking down with regret. "I didn't know you were all mushy about me and shit.. Truth is?" He tilts my chin to look at him. "I was being so harsh with you cause I didn't want to admit my own feelings. I didn't think you'd ever want an asshole like me, so I didn't want to go catching feelings for someone who didn't want me back. But baby? I can't get you outta my fucking head... Why do you think I started visiting every week?"

My teary eyes look up at him and he looks genuine. I want to trust him so badly, but my heart and head are saying two different things.

"Fuck, y/n. I know you don't believe me. Let me prove it to you. What can I do? Just say the fucking word."

"Stop taking our stuff... Leave our people alone..."

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to agree to. "Does that include you?"

I try to hide my grin as I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. "....No."

"Then it's a deal, baby."

"That's it? Just like that?" I look at him confused.

He shrugs. "Guess you've got me wrapped around your finger already, darlin...And now that I know you've never been with a man, I'm taking my fucking time with you." He lays me down on the bed while kissing and climbing over me.

"What about my dad? He'll be back soon."

"Simon's keeping watch, doll."

His lips travel to my neck. "....What about your other wives? You're just gonna fuck me and go back to them?"

He laughs against my neck. "Sweetheart.. I kicked every one of them to the curb the day I layed eyes on you."

My mouth drops open but he cuts me off by pulling my dress down over my chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. I moan and arch myself into him. After a few moments of sucking each one, he slides down further, lifting my dress to my waist and settling his head between my legs. I watch him in awe as he takes his time, kissing my inner thighs.

"Has anyone ever eaten you, baby?"

I shake my head no as I lean up on my elbows to watch him.

"Good." He spreads my pussy lips apart with his fingers and I blush at him staring at it. "Such a pretty pussy. Fuck." He says before locking eyes with me and pressing a kiss to my clit gently. I moan from the contact and arch myself into him, silently begging for more.

He dips his tongue in me and curls it up, gathering my juices. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans and licks all the way up to my clit before sucking on it softly. My mouth drops open and my hips try to jerk away, being overwhelmed by sensitivity.

He smiles against me. "Not going anywhere until you cum all over my face, doll." He wraps his arms up around my thighs, pressing my stomach down with his hands.

My breathing matches the speed of his licking and sucking and I feel the pressure building up inside me.

"Fuck, Negan!" My eyes are clenched shut but snap open when my door suddenly flies open.

"Shit! Dad!" I reach to throw my blanket over me, but defeatedly realize it's on the floor. My eyes widen in horror at my father standing in the doorway, looking like he just saw a ghost. A ghost that's eating his daughter's pussy. I'm unable to close my legs because Negan is still holding me down with his hands.

"God fucking dammit, Rick. We were just ge-"

"Negan!" I cut him off, my cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment.

He kisses my pussy one more time and my eyes widen, not believing he just did that in front of my father. He finally leans up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smirking at my dad like he's proud of himself.

I quickly get up and fix my dress.

"Dad, look, I -" I look up, stopping at the sight of Carl pointing a gun directly at Negan's head.

Negan tucks himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt and ignoring Carl.

"Carl.." I slowly step in front of Negan. "Put the gun down."

"You - you wanted this? Him?" My dad asks horrified. "He's done horrible things, y/n."

"And you haven't?!" I yell at my dad. "I watched you rip a man's neck open with your goddamn teeth. If he's a monster.. then so are you."

Negan steps beside me and laces his fingers through mine before kissing the side of my head.

"I love him, dad." I look up at Negan and elbow him roughly when I see a teasing smirk on his face.

"And you think he loves you? You can't be that stupid." My dad says, putting emphasis on the last word.

Negan chuckles and finally cuts in. "First of all, Dick, do not call my woman stupid. Secondly.." His faces grows serious. "We won't be taking anymore of your things. No more visits. Other than me paying this one a visit of course." Negan winks and puts his his arm around me protectively. "That is.. until she moves in with me." Our eyes all widen at the same time.

"You want me to live with you?" I turn to Negan.

"I mean, you did just confess your love for me, doll. Soo, yeah, that's the plan." He kisses my forehead.

"Y/n, we'll talk about this later. Negan, you need to leave. Now." My dad demands, his jaw ticking with anger.

Negan glares at my dad for a moment before turning to me, lifting my chin to kiss him slowly and passionately. Before he lets go, he whispers in my ear. "Meet me right outside the walls when it gets dark. I am nowhere near done with you, baby."

My heart flutters at the thought of us sneaking out together.

Negan walks towards the door before leaning close to my dad's ear. "I get to be her first, Rick. How fucking sweet is that." I struggle to make out his words but don't miss the chuckle at the end. He pats Carl's shoulder on his way out. "See ya 'round, bro."

"Love you, sweetheart!" He calls out to me as my dad and brother follow behind him, making sure he leaves.

I shut my door and smile giddily, running to the window and peeking out. Negan is already looking up at the window when I look at him. He smirks and winks at me before heading off to the gates.

A few hours later:

The sun just went down and my palms are starting to sweat as I pace back and forth on the outskirts of the gates. A million thoughts race through my head.

What if he doesn't come..

What if it's a trap..

What if he lied about everything he said..

Oh my god.. He's gonna kidnap and torture me..

Shut up. He wouldn't do that.

This is a bad idea. What am I doing.

Just as I turn to run back inside the walls, I see him appear from the shadows, wearing his signature leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath.

"Were you about to ditch me, y/n?" He asks playfully as he pulls my wrist towards him and crashes his lips into mine. When the kiss deepens, he bends a little, pulling me up by the back of my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist. We make out like horny teenagers while my fingers run through his slick black hair.

"You ready to officially be mine, doll?"

I nod without hesitation. "Yes. I'm already yours, Negan. I don't care what anyone thinks about us."

He kisses me again, setting me back down on the ground. "Lead the way, baby." He nods towards the side gates.

"You want to go back to my house? What if someone sees you?!"

"Kinda hope they do.. I like the thought of everyone knowing who you belong to." He smirks and it makes me knees weak.

"Okay.. come on." I pull his hand as I guide him back to my house. We sneak through the back sliding doors as carefully as possible before tiptoeing up the stairs.

He lightly smacks my ass as we're going up and I turn to shush him, tripping over my own feet in the process. He catches me before I make a loud thud on the stairs and his body is leaned over mine as we try not to laugh.

My body shakes as I laugh silently and bring my hand over my mouth quickly to stop any sound that comes out. His eyebrows raise at me with warning as if I better not make a noise.

"Okay, okay. Shushhh." I whisper before beginning our climb up the stairs again. My dad's room is at the end of the hall and mine is adjacent next to his. We try not to let the floors creak as we get closer to my room. We slip inside and I ease the door shut gently. When it finally clicks shut. I let go of a deep breath and look up at Negan. As soon as our eyes lock, we laugh like idiots, but quiet idiots.

He walks towards me. "Goddamn it, I fucking love you." He says as he lifts me back into his arms kissing me.

"You know.. earlier outside.." I breathe out between our kisses. "I thought.. that maybe you were gonna kidnap and torture me."

He smiles against my mouth as our lips lazily fight each other. "...What if I am?"

I stop kissing him to look at him. When I do, his look turns serious and it scares me for a moment. "I fully plan on making you mine and torturing you with this dick forever, doll."

I grin and roll my eyes as he continues holding me in his arms. "I guess there are worse ways to get tortured."

"Wait until I'm all the way inside you." His eyebrows raise teasingly.

I press my forehead to his and bring my hands to cup his face, kissing him again. I can't take my lips off of him. "Well what are you waiting for?"

That's all he needs to hear before he's walking me towards the bed and laying me down gently. He stands back up, removing his jacket and shirt.

I watch him closely, admiring the flex of his biceps when he moves. "Put the jacket back on. No shirt."

He laughs until he sees that I'm serious.

"Yes ma'am." He says with his little country accent. It's not always noticeable, but when it is.. it's so fucking adorable.

Once he's back in the jacket and bare chested, he stops for a moment before removing his pants. "Can I take these off, at least?"

"No, I want to."

He grin stretches as he walks towards the bed, keeping his hands by his sides. "All yours, baby."

I sit up in the bed in front of him and undo his button and zipper. I shuffle his pants down just a little before pulling his hardening cock out of his boxers. It turns to a steel rod in my hand and I don't care that I'm full on staring at it, assessing each vein and how it turns an ombre shade of pink towards the tip.

"I hope you like what you see, baby. Cause it's the only dick you're gonna be seeing for the rest of your life."

"I'm perfectly happy with that." I look up at him before kissing the tip of him, just like he did to my clit earlier. He watches me proudly, letting his fingers run through my hair lovingly.

I lick my lips before struggling to fit my mouth around him. He chuckles down at me.

“If you can’t fit me in that cunt, what makes you think you can take it down your throat, baby?”

I grin around him and I slide my mouth deeper and deeper. Surprisingly I don’t gag and I think it surprises him too.

Guess I don’t have a gag reflex. That’s good to know.

“Holyyy shit, doll. Look. At. You.” His voice is so deep it vibrates to my pussy. The tip hits the very back on my throat and even further until my eyes water.

I try to jerk my head back, but Negan pushes my head down on him again, my nose pressed into his pubic hair. He waits a few seconds until I feel like I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen before pulling my head back. I gasp for air and he pulls me all the way off of him while kicking his pants and boxers off.

"Trying to make me blow my load before we even get to the good part, darlin'? He climbs over me in the bed, kissing me softly.

My hands slip underneath his jacket and rub his back, scratching at it gently.

"I am gonna make you feel So fucking good." He says before kissing my neck. "You want me to be gentle with you baby?" His voice right in my ear makes me shiver.

I nod and he hovers his face above mine so we’re staring into each other eyes.

“You ready, baby?” He whispers and I nod again.

He leans up on his knees between me and lines himself up with my entrance before pushing the tip through. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

He slowly slides in me further and further as he holds my legs open.

“Goddamn this pussy is so fucking Tight.” He pulls back a little before pushing in deeper and my mouth gapes open slightly.

He chuckles and stares down at me through heavy eyelids. "I'm not even halfway yet, sweetheart. You want more?"

I nod desperately as my eyes fill with tears at the overwhelming sensation of him so deep inside me.

"Take it then, doll. Grind on me and make yourself feel good." He stops moving completely while still on his knees between my legs.

My cheeks blush at his request and he smirks down at me, sliding his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, refusing to move or touch me.

I lean up on my elbows while he's still inside me and push my body further into him, taking every inch I possibly can. I grind myself against him until I find just the right spot for the tip of his cock to press into and drop my head back at how good it feels, not caring about the desperate sounds I let out.

"Oh my god, Negan.. fuck." My face reddens at the intense pleasure as I continue using his cock to pleasure myself.

"Fuck, baby. Now THIS? Is a Fucking sight.. Watching you get off on my cock like a desperate little whore."

"Touch me, Negan. Please."

"Please what?"

"Please Negan."

He removes his hands from his jacket to lean over me, holding himself above me with one hand on the bed while bringing the other to lightly grip my throat.

His dark hazel eyes dart back and forth between mine as he squeezes his fingers gently around my neck. My face reddens even more at the sudden loss of air.

"Try again, doll."

"Please... daddy." I choke out and he quickly releases my throat.

"Good girl." He kisses my lips softly before thrusting his hips hard, completely filling me until his balls are flush against me.

I scream out and his hand immediately covers my mouth while his head dips to the side of mine and his deep voice fills my ear once again.

"Sshhh, baby. I know. I know." He pulls out almost completely before sliding in again, this time softer but just as deep.

My eyes fill with tears at the pain but I don't want him to stop. My fingers grip the bottom of his jacket as he continues fucking me hard and at a steady pace. The headboard begins to lightly bump the wall above me and my eyes widen with panic.

"Negan, the bed. My dad's room is right on the other side."

He chuckles lightly in my ear but doesn't speak. Instead, he pounds into me even harder and faster with his head is buried into my neck.

"Negan!" I whisper yell at him but it feels too good to make him stop. The closer my orgasm gets, the less I care about my dad hearing us.

After a few more thrusts, he slows down and suddenly flips us over with his dick still inside me until I'm laying over him.

"Negan, my dad's gonna come in here! We have to be quie-"

Before I finish, he lifts his knees up and rams his cock into me hard. It feels even deeper from this angle and hits a spot that makes me see stars.

"Come here, baby." He maneuvers me until my arms are wrapped around him and my head is nestled into his neck. He smells like musky cologne and sweat and I can't help but lick him. Our mouths are next to each others ears, breathing and moaning heavily as he begins to thrust up into me faster than ever. The headboard slams into the wall with force but I don't even care.

This feeling is unlike anything I've ever felt or knew was possible, so the last thing I'm gonna do is tell him to stop.

"Negan.." I cry out. "Faster."

He obeys and wraps his arms around me tighter, fucking me at an animalistic pace. I cum so hard and fast I don't even have time to announce it. My pussy clenches and I feel myself suddenly leak around him, soaking his dick and probably even the bed below us.

"Goddamn. That's my good fucking girl... You gonna let daddy cum in this pussy, baby?"

"Yes! Please." I whine.

He growls in my ear and holds himself deep and still inside me as his dick pulses over and over.

I try to slide off of him when he's finished, but he holds me tight, not letting me leave.

"Negan, you need to leave before my dad-"

"He's not here, sweetheart."

"What?!" I snap my eyes to his.

"Relax, baby. He's fine. But I did warn him that if he didn't want to hear his baby girl screaming "daddy" all night.. then he should take your siblings and go stay the night with Daryl." He grins up at me and my brows come together with confusion.

"Wait you.. you told him about our plan?"

"Of course baby. Had to be respectful and ask for your old man's blessing."

"And.. and he gave it to you?!"

Negan laughs and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Absolutely not. But respectfully, I told him he didn't have a choice."

The next morning:

My vagina is screaming at me for allowing it to be destroyed last night. I can't count on one hand how many times Negan made me cum. I open my eyes to the sun shining through my window and immediately notice Negan is gone. I shoot up and look around, seeing that his clothes are also gone.

What if he just.. got what he wanted and left..

I throw the covers off of me and get up, grabbing my sundress of the floor and throwing it on before making my way through the house.

"Carl?!.... Dad?!" I yell as I descend quickly down the stairs. I stop at the bottom to find Negan stirring a pot of something on the stove.

"There she is! Mornin' sunshine." I walk over to Negan to see what he's cooking and he holds a spoon up to my mouth, letting me taste the deliciousness. This man can fuck and cook... what a god.

"Was wonderin when you were gonna wake the hell up. It's already lunch time, baby." He presses his lips to mine and I notice his freshly shaven face. I've never seen him like his and he looks so incredibly handsome.

He lifts me up and sets me on the kitchen counter while standing between my legs.

"Mmm, promise me you'll wear little sundresses with no panties underneath for the rest of our lives, doll." He says as he kisses me sweetly. I giggle and wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck.

"You hungry baby?" He asks and I nod sleepily.

"Me too." He slowly gets down on his knees in front of me, draping my legs over his shoulders.

He softly licks me with his tongue, moaning from the taste before burying his face further into me until I feel his tongue push past my hole. His shaven face feels soft and much more gentle than his beard.

My fingers run through his black hair, tugging on it gently as my head falls back.

"Mmm, daddy." I moan and my eyes snap open, hearing movement at the front door. I quickly jerk Negan up while pulling my dress down and sliding off the counter, seeing my dad, Carl, and Daryl standing in the doorway. Carl quickly covers Judith's eyes while he holds her and Negan sighs annoyedly at the sight of them.

"God..DAMN it, Rick. Again? You gotta learn to fucking knock."

"It's my house." My dad's expression is unreadable as he stands there, eyeing Negan. "You said one night. You can be on your way now."

"Well now don't be fucking rude, Prick. Have a seat." He grins widely at my dad before gesturing to the table. "I made spaghetti."

The End.

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mindmelter · 2 months

Text

The Body Wearing Convention - Las Vegas

The BWA (Body Wearing Alliance) was formed 20 years ago when the internet was just starting to get popular. Those born with the rare ability of reducing people into wearable skins didn't knew there was more like them out there, but with the help of the internet they started to find others with the same ability, and soon it was created the BWC (Body Wearing Convention)

The Body Wearing Convention is a clandestine event that happens a few times every year, hidden from the prying eyes of the public, It is a secret event where they can gather, share stories, and find solace in the knowledge that they aren't alone in their power.

The BWC happens in a different country every time, for safety reasons, and the main two rules to participate in the convention is: To be a Skinwalker (That's how they call themselves) and to wear the body of a local from that place, that means you can't bring with yourself skins from home.

Currently the secret Alliance is made up of 130 men around the world. But among these 130 members, there are 10 men who are very close friends with each other, they all share one thing in common: They are all gay.

Surprisingly they are the only gay guys of the entire Alliance, while all the others sought power and money, these 10 friends only care about getting hard in a new sexy body, It was like a sport for them. That's why they created an online group chat, where they can talk and share pictures of their current bodies with each other.

The location of the BWC this time is: USA - Las Vegas.

The 10 friends all arrived individually at the city in an early Friday, the convention would occur during the weekend, so they had to find a new skin quickly, and so they went straight on a hunt for a random local body.

Think of the BWC as the Met Gala, but for people who can turn you into a wearable hollow fleshsuit in a blink. There was this unspoken competition among them, to see who was wearing the hottest or richest skin, and this group of friends clearly didn't care about the last one...

_______________________________________

Carl is a 46 years old married gay man, he is part of the BWA for 17 years, and there is nothing Carl love more than wearing the bodies of fit straight guys. His husband knows he's a skinwalker and is totally fine with it. But because his husband is not a skinwalker, he is not allowed to go to the conventions, so Carl always travels alone.

(Friday, March 1st. 8:19 AM) Carl Sent A Photo

Carl: I just turned this hot Latino stud in the hotel parking lot. He was walking towards his car while talking on the phone with his girlfriend. That's when I slowly walked behind him and turned him. What do you guys think? Do I wear him well?

Harold: You're looking so hot. You always pick the most hottest guys.

Elijah: Wow, you already found a body? That was fast.

Joel: He's not that impressive, I would give him a 6/10 lol

Elijah: Stop being a jerk Joel. This guy is clearly a 9/10

Carl: Don't mind him Elijah, he's just jealous of my pick.

Joel: He's not really my type, today I'm looking for a sexy tough looking guy to wear.

Peter: Hot choice of skin Carl! Show us his dick please!

Carl: You will have to wait until the Convention to see it. But i'm telling you, he's really big and thick, I know you're gonna love sucking it.

_______________________________________

David is 34 years old and he is part of the BWA for 13 years.

He first found out about his ability when his homophobic stepbrother was trying to beat him up, David closed his eyes and tried to protect his head, but when he opened his eyes, he saw his hot stepbrother lying on the floor completely deflated. David had the most fun years living the life of his douchebag of a stepbrother, until one day, his stepbrother just "disappeared"

(Friday, March 1st. 9:46 AM) David Sent A Photo:

David: I made two new bodysuits. I saw the handsome blond one at the hotel's pool, he was trying to seduce some girls by showing off his hot body, he just didn't knew he was actually seducing a skinwalker. To get him, I first had to convert this cute room service attendant, after I put him on, I got access to his room and walked inside. I think I'm going to use the attendant tonight for some fun.

Elijah: Oh, the good old room service method. It works every time.

David: It was you who taught me this method back in 2011 when I was still a new member of the BWA.

Damian: It brings back good memories from that one time where we all stayed at the same hotel in the 2011 Convention. Good times.

_______________________________________

Peter Is a 40 years old gay bottom who love to turn big hunky men into Bodysuits and act like a slut in their bodies. He is part of the Body Wearing Alliance for 9 years.

(Friday, March 1st. 11:28 AM) Peter Sent A Photo:

Peter: Do I look cute? This is Ramón, I turned him at an alley while he was jogging, he's a bodybuilder. I'm gonna make such a good use of his muscles. I'm sure you guys are going to love the muscles in his ass the most.

Joel: I love how you always pick the most biggest guys.

Daniel: I feel bad for this poor bastard, of all the Skinwalkers, he was picked by the most perverted one.

Peter: lol

Carl: He's huge. I'm going to enjoy burying my new thick latino dick in your bodybuilder's ass.

Harold: I really like his pecs. I want to suck on them when we meet tomorrow.

Peter: It's always the pecs for you isn't, Harold? lol

Harold: You're not lying. Actually I just saw this hot guy at the mall and he seems to have very big pecs. I'm going to follow him.

_______________________________________

Harold is a 28 years old scrawny gay man, he has no muscle definition, but he love pecs and it was what he first looked for in a body: Their huge pecs. If the guy didn't had two big meaty pecs, he wound't want them.

He went to the local LA mall to hunt for a body, he knew that the mall was always the perfect place for hunting skins. And he was proven just right when he saw this big and tall hunk walk inside a clothing store. Harold smirked as he entered the store and followed the man.

(Friday, March 1st. 1:05 PM) Harold Sent A Photo:

Harold: Who want some milk boys? Daddy got all the milkers now.

Peter: Oh my god, look at the size of these tits. I will let you suck on Ramón's tits if you let me suck yours.

Harold: This sounds like a good deal.

Carl: Very nice choice of skin! Good job, Harold.

Peter: Can you send a video of you playing with those hairy tits and pinching his nipples? Please?

(1:15 PM, Harold Sent A 20 Seconds Video To The Group Chat)

In the vídeo he was in the middle of the store, squeezing his new pair of meaty hairy pecs, he lifted one of them and let go, watching them bounce, then he pinched his left nipple and let out a deep loud moan. Without feeling any shame for being in a public space. It wasn't technically him who was being humiliated in public, so he didn't cared.

_______________________________________

Damian and Rashad are a black gay couple (47, 49) they have been together for 11 years and they both had met each other during a Body Wearing Convention back in 2013. It was very known to everyone that they only turned white men into Bodysuits, it was their favorite type of skins. So there was no diversity in their Bodysuit closet, only white men.

(Friday, March 1st. 3:07 PM) Damian Sent A Photo:

Damian: You guys know how Rashad and I love to hunt white boys, so what better place to find some white skins than at the LA beach? We saw this group of young frat boys surfing and we converted these two 19 years olds, they were just the most handsome ones in their group. Turns out they are twin brothers.

David: This is such a hot pair, and the fact they are brothers makes it even more hot!

Carl: I want to fuck the long haired one with my thick latino dick while I pull his hair.

Damian: I like this Idea. His long hair would be great to use as a handle for a hard fuck. I might even try It later tonight.

David: Send us a video if you do.

_______________________________________

Joel is the youngest one of the group, at only 19 he already has a count of 86 Bodysuits, and he's part of the Body Wearing Alliance for only 1 year. That's why, the BWA leader tasked Elijah, a veteran in the art of wearing bodies, to watch for Joel and not let the young man expose their secret society.

(Friday, March 1st. 5:14 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: My new bodysuit is still deflating. I can't wait to finally wear him and show him to you guys. He's so hot.

Carl: You gave my bodysuit a 7/10, so he better be a 10/10.

Isaac: Wow he's packing.

Harold: When he deflate, please send us a pic of you in him. I want to see if his front looks as good as his back side.

(Friday, March 1st. 5:40 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: I'm inside him now. I saw this sexy daddy at the hotel's bar. I waited for him to go to his room and then I followed him, as soon as he opened the door I converted him, right there at the door's entrance, I mean, of course he took a bit longer to deflate, so I had to drag him inside. I actually wanted to wear a scary looking soldier that I saw at the bar, but Elijah didn't let me. Still, I'm very glad with my pick.

Harold: Holly fuck!!!

Peter: He's a very sexy bodysuit. Wish I was there to give him a very special room service.

Carl: Where is Elijah by the way? Should he not be with you?

Joel: Elijah Is outside, I don't know where he went, but he said he was going to be back soon.

Carl: Did he picked a bodysuit already?

Joel: Yes he did, a young and hot fuckboy. Let me send a pic of him.

Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: This is the body Elijah picked to wear at the convention tomorrow. I think he got this one at the hotel's bathroom maybe? I'm not sure. I hope he don't mind that I'm wearing his brand new skin.

Elijah: Boy, you're in big trouble!

Joel: Shit, I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't mind. I'm gonna take him off.

Elijah: Don't you dare taking him off, I'm not going to wear him anymore, I found a better body to wear tomorrow. wait for me, I'm getting up there right now.

(Friday, March 1st. 6:22 PM) Elijah Sent A Photo:

Elijah: You don't want to disobey me in my new body, boy, so you better be on your knees when I get inside, I'm horny and this guy have big balls full of cum.

Joel: Yes sir!

Peter: Oh yes sir indeed!

Carl: lol you're fucked Joel.

_______________________________________

Isaac is a 24 years old gay man, and like everyone else in this group, he was addicted to wearing hunky men. He is more reserved and shy, and don't talk much in the group chat. However, he enjoys jerking off while viewing the photos his friends would send to the group chat.

He might be the most shy and reserved in the group, but once he's wearing a handsome hunk, he becomes a whole new different person, a more dominant and cocky one.

(Friday, March 1st. 8:37 PM) Isaac Sent A Photo:

Isaac: Seeing you guys wearing such hot bodies is getting me so freaking hard. I can't wait for tomorrow. I got this one at the gym's lockerroom. Who wants to take care of my boner?

Peter: I do! I want to get on my knees in Ramón's body and let you use his slutty mouth.

Harold: You're looking so damn hot, Isaac, good pick.

Carl: Was you working out? Your skin looks very sweaty.

Isaac: I was. I wanted to test out my new muscles.

Carl: Great. Can't wait for the convention tomorrow, where we can finally see each other's bodies in person and have the orgy of the year.

#bodysuit

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for lying about my age to make some new friends?

I (17nb) recently joined a new fandom. I did the usual procedure of finding popular artists and writers, following them, and consuming their content while falling down the famous rabbit-hole. Then I saw one of the artists I liked had a discord server. I joined it bc I saw it as a way to make new fandom friends, get fic recs etc etc

i joined the server and the carl-bot(?) message popped up and a few people waved to it, so it was all on a high-note. Then I checked the rules and saw that it was 18+ members only and anyone found to be below 18 would be kicked. This is where I worry i may be the asshole.

People were already greeting the small flux of new members in the chat (I had joined in a small wave of other new members) and they were all incredibly friendly. I suddenly felt very self-concious about the idea of immediately leaving so soon after joining so, when writing my introduction, I said I was 18.

At the time, it felt like a bit of a white lie - after all, I'm 17 and am oftentimes mistaken for being ~20 online. I don't have my age in any of my socials for internet safety and I've always behaved quite maturely for my age. 18 was the lowest number I could go, and many of my friends are 18, so I know i can at least be friends with other 18 yr-olds.

The issue comes with the fact there is an nsfw channel in the server. Now, I'm on the internet and heavily versed in fandom - i use ao3. I'm not going to cry over a discord server which has an nsfw channel, that's just stupid. The issue is, I am very aware that quite a lot of the members might be uncomfortable with the idea they've been making nsfw jokes or posting nsfw art where a minor can see, no matter how close to an adult that minor is.

I've been doing my best to 'minimalize' the damage - I rarely talk in the nsfw chat and keep quite strictly to the sfw channels instead. It gives me some sense of, idk, decency for what I'm doing.

I've been in the server for several months now and it's a really safe and fun environment - it's discourse-free and everyone is just really great to talk to. I really enjoy being a member. However, I am also aware I'm violating the rules and lying about my age. I fear leaving now, abruptly, might bring attention to me or upset some of the people who I often talk to on the server.

But it also feels like a very tiny offense - I'm not going around, 'disturbing the peace', and kicking up drama. I'm avoiding what I know they wouldn't be comfortable with me seeing and I stay friendly and mature within conversation

So, aita? Should I leave the server or would that just be a dramatic reaction for one white lie?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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fluffywolverine · 2 years

Text

today i've been thinking how fiddler's green and the corinthian have the exact same motives - to understand people - but totally different means to do this, and there is one key to understanding. reading.

see, the corinthian's main focus is to taste humans and he does that quite literally. he wants to have fun in all sorts of ways and that's basically it. his desire to understand is very easily and quickly satisfied. that's also why he prays on so many victims - the pleasure is only temporary, so he feels the need to repeat it constantly. he savours the moment, enjoying it while it lasts, not being able to prolong it anyhow.

and he doesn't read, he even tells carl that he prefers people to reading.

fiddler's green is his polar opposite. he loves people, not necessarily as individuals, but generally as a whole. humanity is something completely different for him, but his desire isn't to grab as much as he can. fiddler's green wants to explore this topic in the broadest way possible, and he knows he won't do it just by living. that's why he turns to books.

especially in the comics, although in the show as well, he is shown as a great reader. from the way he is talking about the works he read, mostly chesterton, you can see he is fascinated with the written word. reading is for him a way to connect to humanity. it's how fiddler's green can better process what it means to be human, and it allows him to fall in love with people over and over again. he even misses hal's performance, because - guess what! - he was reading.

now, why am i even talking about it? because literature lets you get into the author's mind, observe how they see the world around them, what amuses, frightens, affects them; it is almost like sharing someone's exact thoughts. what's more, literature lets you learn about things you wouldn't be able to know. thanks to it, you are able to process trauma, comprehend other people's emotions, see the world around you in completely different colours. reading helps you understand.

above that, there is also this delicious little detail: the sandman is often described as "the story about stories" or "the story about creators". and i, for one, think that fiddler's green pays a beautiful tribute to this message.

#should i stop analysing this show?#probably #will i do it?#not likely #the sandman #sandman netflix #the corinthian #fiddler's green

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multific · 1 year

Text

Finally

Carl Grimes x Reader

Summary: You thought Alexandria will be a place where you could finally be with him. What you didn't expect is another girl trying to steal him from you.

As you stepped out onto your porch, you saw them climbing over the wall.

This wasn't the first time you saw Carl and Enid leaving together.

You and Carl basically grew up together.

Lately, you caught yourself catching feelings for the boy and now, you were incredibly jealous.

You shouldn't be, he made his choice, he choose Enid over you. And you had to accept that.

But it was still difficult.

You loved him. And although you never confessed, you felt his rejection.

Enid was beautiful, you couldn't argue with that.

"Hey Kid!" yelled Daryl as he walked over to you.

"Morning!"

"Wanna come with me on a run? Rick wanted us to get more clothes for everyone and my fashion sense is not the best." Daryl was always like a father to you. Ever since they found you, he always took good care of you and you were extremely thankful for that.

"Yeah, let's go!" you replied, hoping this would take your mind off of Carl.

---

The run went smoothly, you were able to secure good clothes which for sure will help during the upcoming winter.

You let out a long sigh before exiting the car.

Daryl was quick to follow and he soon grabbed your attention.

"Kid!" you turned and look at him. "I will punch him in the face if you want. He might only have one eye working but he was blind even when he had two if he doesn't choose you."

You almost laughed. Of course, he would notice what was going on with you.

"It's not that... I'm just being stupid, I let myself believe he sees me more than a friend."

"He is the stupid one. You are amazing! And if he doesn't see that, I feel sorry for him." you smiled and walked over to Daryl, giving him a quick hug before the others would storm the car to grab clothes.

"Thank you." you whispered before heading home.

Night approached quickly.

It was getting dark when a knock came on your door.

You opened it and sure enough, it was Carl. Before he could speak, you spoke up.

"Oh, you must have not seen, but this is my house. Enid lives further down the road. Good night, Carl." you said as you slammed the door in his face.

Another knock made you groan, opening the door again. "Enid lives down that way, Carl. This is my house."

"What is your problem?"

"My problem? Oh, nothing. Did you come over to brag to me about your little date today? Did you have fun with Enid? I hope you did. I sincerely hope you did. So, go and bother your girlfriend please and stop playing with me!" you wanted to slam the door again but he stopped it with his foot as he walked into your house with you, closing the door behind you.

"I went with her to keep her safe, it wasn't a date."

"Oh, right. I'm sure it wasn't."

"What is your problem anyway? Do you hate Enid that much?"

"I don't hate her. Can you please leave? I really don't feel like talking."

"I do. You have to tell me why are you angry with me. I only left with her to make sure she is safe."

"You promised me you would come over today."

"And I did. I'm here!" you rolled your eyes.

"Right, so you can go now to her. Make sure she is safe while she sleeps and doesn't run off!" you pointed at your door but he didn't move.

"Are you jealous of her?"

"OF COURSE I AM, Carl! I knew you for a longer time, you used to keep me safe! You used to make sure I am okay, but now, all I see is you running off with her. I know I am boring, I get that. You should really leave now, Carl. Let me forget about you and about my feelings so I can move on." you wanted to move to the door but he stopped you, he was meant to grab you but you moved.

"What do you want me to do? Not have friends?!"

"Did she kiss you?" you asked so suddenly it even surprised you. But his silence spoke volumes. "Remember at the prison? I know we were young but... When I was sick, you promised me something Carl. I am not going to be your second choice. The one that you run to when every other choice is gone. If I can't be first, I don't want to be more than friends. You can run off kissing girls as you please. Leave me alone now, please."

"She kissed me, I didn't kiss her. I stopped her because I love you."

"Love me?! If you loved me you wouldn't go running into every wall whenever a cute girl bats their eyelashes at you!" you were rather sad than angry. "You never kissed me. I was there for you through it all. And she just..." you looked into his eye, you knew boys were rather... stupid like they didn't understand if you don't tell them straight. "I hope you will be happy with her. I just can't wait to see your face when a new kid joins and she runs off with him instead of you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Everyone always wants the newer, shinier things. You are that for now."

"You think that's why she likes me? I saved her. I know the promises we made but we were only kids, Y/N."

"What about the promise you made yesterday?" you felt a tear roll down your cheek. "I was truly stupid wasn't I? Please leave." you turned to walk to your bedroom, leaving him in your living room.

He could hear you crying, but he was torn. And so, he left.

---

Next couple of days you completely avoided Carl, but you did hear about a scuffle him and Daryl got into.

Daryl walked up to Carl who was on their porch with Rick.

"Carl, I'll give you one warning, playing with people like that!"

"Daryl! What are you-" Rick tried to interject but Daryl was already holding Carl by his collar.

"You playing with Y/N's heart. I do not care if you are my friend's son, you do not play with Y/N!" Rick grabbed Daryl and pulled him off of his son. "If you are big enough to play with people like that, you are big enough to own up to them!" Daryl said before he gave a look to Rick and left.

Rick turned to his son, waiting for an explanation.

You tried your best not to think about him.

But it was extremely difficult given that for almost your entire life he was there.

Every morning you stared at the wall waiting for him or Enid to turn up, neither of them did.

You went back to do your job and take care of the plants.

But every minute was true torture. You had a feeling that this will be better with time.

You could get used to him being gone.

Or so you thought.

You asked Rick if you were allowed to move and live at Hilltop. And he agreed.

Knowing your situation, he apologized in his son's place, but you didn't want to hear that.

You were the silly one.

You shouldn't have fallen in love.

You will be moving in two days.

You will miss your house. It was a rather lovely one, small and comfortable but you needed to move on.

Daryl also understood and supported your decision.

"You are a full on woman now." he said when you told him the news.

Word began to spread of course. Rumours spread like wildfire around here, but you couldn't care less.

First people said it was Carl who sent you away, then somehow the truth began to spread.

Carl soon heard the news of you moving.

He immediately walked to your house.

You saw him walking up the porch as he let himself in.

"Carl..."

"I'm not here to argue. I am simply here to ask you to stay." he said as he quietly closed the door behind himself.

"I can't. I kept telling myself that I would be fine if I saw you with someone because at least I would know that you are happy. But I can't."

"I was stupid. I was too overwhelmed, having her and you and I..."

"You enjoyed the attention, I get it. But I need to move on."

"I don't want you to move on. I don't want you to stop loving me, Y/N."

"I'm not going to do the tango with you Carl. Tango is not meant for three."

"I know. I will tell Enid, I never saw her more than a friend, I just didn't realize it before. But I do love you, Y/N."

You nodded once before looking around.

"I'll wait for you to talk with her. Then... then you can bring me on a date." he nodded eagerly.

You put all of your things back where they belong.

Now, you just waited for Carl to clear the air.

You not leaving also raised some questions in the community.

The next day, there was a knock on your door, you were about to have dinner but decided to check who it was.

"Carl?" but he didn't say anything, he quickly captured your lips in a sweet yet passionate kiss.

"I was so stupid for doubting anything. I knew I loved you for a long time now, please forgive me." you placed your palm on his cheek.

"It's okay. We are here now."

"And neither of us is leaving." he responded, making you smile as you pulled him in for another kiss.

Next day, as you two walked over Alexandria, hand in hand, you could hear many people saying 'finally'. Including his father and Daryl.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#Carl Grimes x reader #Carl Grimes x you #Carl Grimes imagine #Carl Grimes imagines #Carl Grimes x fem reader #carl grimes x fem #carl grimes x fem!reader #The Walking Dead #walking dead au #walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #walking dead imagine #the walking dead imagines #walking dead imagines #the walking dead x reader #walking dead x reader

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godsandmonsters505 · 2 years

Text

The Other Woman | Rick Grimes

(fem!reader)

Summary: Rick consoles in you during troubles with his and Lori's relationship.

Warnings: [NSFW] smut, cheating, swearing, unprotected sex

It wasn't often that rainy spells hit the prison like this, especially since only days earlier you had been out working the farm land in the scorching heat. It took everyone by surprise, and people didn't know what to do with themselves, cooped up inside the walls of the prison all over again.

Tensions had been somewhat high recently, what with Rick and Lori's baby on the way and Glenn and Maggie fighting with each other, so the rainfall didn't particularly come at a convenient time. It wasn't exactly a happy little group bonding activity.

"Okay, pay attention to this part," you say, sat on the concrete floor of the prison with Carl, Rick's young boy. You hold up a semi-constructed origami swan.

"I am!" Carl laughs, working on a messy looking origami swan, but it looks like a swan nevertheless.

"Don't underestimate the skill that origami takes, kid," you chuckle, patting his head. "You might be handy with a gun but this is a whole new world."

He giggles and shuffles impatiently. "Just show me!"

"Fine," you grin. "So you see this part here?"

Carl nods as you point to one of the corners of the paper object.

"You have to fold it like this, in a way that it-"

You're interrupted when you hear your name called.

You turn around and see Rick walking towards you.

"Yeah?" You reply, twisting round to face him as you speak to him.

"I need some help." He states plainly. "Come with me."

"Can it wait, Dad?" Carl asks disappointedly. "My swan is nearly finished. I'm making it for Mom."

You could swear you see Rick wince at the mention of Carl's mother.

"There's time to finish it later, Carl." He drawls. "I need Y/N to come with me for now, though."

"Okay," he sighs. "Promise you'll help me finish later?"

"I promise," you smile, standing up and completing your swan as you do so. You lean over and hand it to him. "Have mine for now. Keep it safe." You wink and walk away, feeling a little guilty for having to leave him.

"What is it that can't wait?" You say to Rick, a little annoyed.

"Electrical problems on the other side of the building."

You nod. "And you needed me? Why not Glenn? He's been sat picking at the walls with boredom all day."

"I'm not in the mood to have my ears talked off." He states bluntly. "You get that more than anyone."

You smile softly to yourself. It's nice to know that Rick has chosen you because he wanted to, not because of convenience or practicality.

Yours and Rick's relationship was a strange one. You undoubtedly had feelings for him, but it felt strange knowing he was a married man. It would be easier for you to manage your feelings if he didn't flirt at times, or create unbearable tension, but he did (whether it was intentional or not). You just had to think of Lori and the baby. Maybe Rick just flirts for fun, he clearly has a life away from you to take care of.

But romantic feelings aside, you were good friends. Neither of you were good at communicating emotions, though, which is why Rick basically admitting he wants you to come fix the electrics with him is a good feeling, whether romantic or platonic. You trusted each other, you got each other and you didn't need words to communicate when facing walkers, problems in the prison or other issues. You like to think that it transfers into your personal relationship as well, but you can't be too sure.

You walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes, your hand instinctively placed on the knife in the holster on your belt in case of danger.

"You're good with him, you know." Rick says, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" You ask.

"Carl." He clarifies. "You're good with him."

"He's a good kid," you smile. "Guess he has a good dad."

He frowns and shakes his head. "He deserves better parents."

You lose the smile on your face in response to his statement. "You know that's not true."

"Lori and I are a mess." He sighs, frustrated. "I'm glad the poor kid has you."

You grab his arm to stop him, and turn him to face you.

"Don't say shit like that." You snap. "I've seen how much you love him. The both of you. Don't let whatever is going on with you and Lori make you think you're anything other than the best father any kid could have."

He runs his hand over his jawline, tense and clearly stressed.

"I can barely be a father to Carl, what happens when I have another kid here?" His eyes water. "Me and Lori are on the brink of divorce, which..." He laughs humourlessly. "How does a divorce even work in the middle of a fucking apocalypse?"

You sigh and look at him intently as he talks to you. This is the most vulnerable you've ever seen him.

"I don't want to leave her, I mean I love her and I want our kid to have parents that are together." You nod understandingly while he explains. "Some stability in this world would be nice. But then every time I look at her I think-"

His voice breaks as he talks and you take his hand and grip it in support.

"I think of Shane. I think of them together I think of what-" he takes a deep breath and straightens his posture. "Of what I did to him. Of what he made me do to him."

He stops talking and looks at you in your eyes. You're not sure what to say and simply gaze at him empathetically, wanting him to know that you care and are here to listen to him.

Suddenly he breaks the eye contact, pulling his hand from yours and briskly walking ahead. You run slightly to catch up with him as he walks and it's clear that he wants to leave the previous conversation behind, so you continue in silence yet again.

After a moment you decide to speak up.

"Before all this," you begin, "I was a-" you pause and laugh a little. "I was a therapist."

Rick turns his head to you and you feel satisfied when you see a miniscule smile on his face, no matter how small.

"Really?" He asks, thinking you're messing with him.

"Really." You assure and he scoffs, entertained.

"Years of training, and probably hundreds of patients...I thought I could be prepared for any situation." You continue. "Turns out a zombie apocalypse takes a toll on a person. I don't know how the fuck to react to any expressed emotion anymore."

You continue walking, and can see Rick's gaze on you out of the corner of your eye as you talk to him.

"I have all the...all the knowledge of what shit means," you say, tapping your temple with your index finger, "but in principle, I'm so lost. I think I'd make the worst therapist possible now."

Rick chuckles and it's a noise that lights up an inexplicably pleasant feeling in the depths of your chest.

"If you met me two years ago," you laugh, "I would've given you some fucking great advice."

"I'd rather just know you're really listening," he admits, "I don't want that generic therapist bullshit." He shoots you a teasing glance and you roll your eyes. "No offense."

"None taken." You say, and think deeply for a moment. "I guess we've all lost certain parts of ourselves, but maybe it makes us better people in the end."

Rick doesn't reply at first, as you arrive at the room you intended to reach.

"That's an optimistic way of looking at it." He says it in a way that leads you to believe he is not fully convinced.

"Maybe optimism is all we have anymore," you exhale. "And that's coming from a die hard pessimist."

Rick opens a cupboard in the corner and pulls out a tool kit while you open the circuit board.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, Rick." You say.

"Just do what I tell you." He smirks.

"Yes, sir." You laugh playfully.

You help Rick as he guides you through the actions required to fix the electrical problems. When you're both nearly done, he lets you finish the job, and when you do so, some lights on the machine flick on.

"There we go," Rick says.

"Maybe I have a new career ahead of me," you grin, swivelling around to face Rick behind of you, but when you face him, he's not smiling back. "Are you okay?"

His gaze burns through you as you stand there waiting for a reply. There is a look in his eyes that you can't quite place, but then he turns his back to you, breaking the moment.

"Rick?" You're worried when he doesn't reply to your question. You walk up behind him and place your hand on his shoulder. "What's wro-"

You're cut off when he turns around and takes you by surprise, pressing his lips to yours. Before you have time to react, he presses you up against the nearest wall, your top hitching up a little. He removes his lips from yours to observe your reaction and you stare at him longingly for a split second before continuing the kiss yourself, pulling his face into yours passionately.

Months of tension has built up into this heated moment, and at the flick of a switch, it is being released. His hands roam your body before finding a firm grip on your hips, pulling you close to him.

"I've wanted this since I first laid eyes on you in Atlanta," Rick whispers into the kiss and your breath hitches at the admission.

"Rick," you say, almost panting as he grins himself up against you.

It all moves so fast as he goes to slide his hands up your shirt, squeezing your breasts through your bra. You place your own hands on his toned chest, trying to keep yourself steady as his tongue explores your mouth.

He pulls away from the kiss and you miss the contact, but then realise he is reaching for the hem of your top. He pulls it upwards and begins to expose your torso, but you stop him.

"Here?" You gasp, wanting to continue with this, but assuming you would remain as fully clothed as possible. What if someone came looking for you? What if walkers managed to get in? "Leave it on."

He looks at you with irresistible eyes. "I want to see your body," he pleads and you nod immediately, allowing him to remove your top. Caution flies to the wind as soon as he gives you that look. It makes you feel like the only girl in the world. It melts you to the core.

You unbutton his shirt until it's loosely hanging on so that you can get access to his chest, running your hands up and down, exploring his skin. As you do so, he unhooks your bra and throws it to the floor, making you feel incredibly vulnerable in front of him.

"God, you're fucking beautiful," he mutters and you feel yourself blushing under his intense stare. You'd thought about this situation many times before, and every time you felt guilty, or conflicted, but in reality when it was happening, there was no reasoning or logic. No thoughts passed through your head other than how badly you wanted the man in front of you.

He unbuttons your pants and slides his hands down into your panties. He has you unbelievably wet, and he used this wetness to spread onto your swollen clit, increasing the pace of your panting with every circle of the bundle of nerves. He has you in the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively, as he uses one hand on your hip to press you against the wall and keep you in place, and the other to pay attention to your core. He slowly slides his index and middle fingers inside you as you writhe and moan quietly, using his thumb to continue to stimulate your clit while he holds his fingers inside you. His motions speed up and he begins to move his fingers in and out of you, pushing deeper every time and curling as they do so. He continues to whisper praises and compliments to you as you come nearer and nearer to you release.

As your moans grow louder, he takes your mouth in a rough kiss, biting gently on your lip. His fingers repeatedly hit the exact right spot inside you, and combined with the repeated stimulation of you clit it becomes too much. The knot that had built up in your stop finally unclenches as you call out his name, a wave of pleasure blinding you.

"Rick!" you call out and he groans deeply in response.

"That's it," he whispers as you come down from your orgasm, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. You kiss him again as you regain a little of your strength, but soon enough you're ready for more, and teasingly trail your finger down his chest, abdomen and to the bulge in his pants. You palm the bulge momentarily, but you can't resist any longer and unzip his fly, wanting to release him from his jeans.

You pull his length out of his boxers and gasp at the sight of how big he is. Even in your dreams it wasn't like this. You stroke his hard length as he grabs your jeans, unbuttons them and pulls them down, just below your bottom.

Wasting no time, he lines himself up at your entrance, teasing you as he pushes in only the tip. You bury your head in his neck in anticipation, pressing little kisses into his skin, clinging onto his shoulders.

"Please," you whimper and without question he pushes himself in fully. You both let out a simultaneous moan as you revel in the feeling of each other's bodies being connected in such a way.

"Fuck," he pants holding himself inside you and trying to maintain his balance. He grabs your jaw and takes your head from out of the crook of his neck. He looks you in the eyes, holding your face in place, as he takes his cock nearly all the way out of you and slams it back into you in one smooth stroke.

You cry out in ecstacy and your eyes roll to the back of your head. After that initial movement, he starts to build up the pace, moving in and out of you steadily. He lifts your legs up so that he is carrying your weight and fucks you passionately into the wall. Your lips meet every so often in a messy kiss as your bodies slam together, filling the room with obscene noises.

His lips move from your lips to your jawline to your neck as one of his hands find your breasts. With his hand he squeezes your breast while circling your nipple with his thumb, observing closely how your body reacts to everything he does to you, and what it is that you like.

He begins to kiss the skin of your neck, sucking and biting. You both know that he's going to leave marks but neither of you are in a place to stop. Plus, you'd be lying if you said the though of him marking you as his didn't turn you on.

The continuous movements in and out of you bring on that familiar feeling yet again, but in a way that you've never felt before. As it grows nearer you're thankful Rick has hold of you because your whole body feels like jelly. One more push and you're unravelling in his grasp, calling out his name. You don't know how loud you're being, but you don't care. You close your eyes as pleasure fills your body. He slows down through your orgasm, but as soon as he sees you coming around again, he speeds up his strokes again.

You want to speak, to thank him, to say anything, but your mind has turned to mush. All you know of in this moment is the pleasure this beautiful man before you is responsible for. You cling onto his toned biceps, veins prominent on his forearms.

"Harder," you barely manage to utter and he let's out a breathless chuckle, following your command.

Both his hands are now gripping onto your ass, and the warmth of the contact strongly contrasts the coldness of the concrete wall against your upper back.

He has so effortlessly brought you near to orgasm again, and you know he won't be able to hold on this time, his composure slipping.

His thrusts become rougher, faster, more primal. He's so close and his body is taking over his mind. Not that you mind. The strength of his body is like nothing you've ever felt before.

A few final thrusts and you're throwing your head back, moaning obscenely.

"Rick!" You yell. "Fuck!"

Your knees buckle, ecstacy fills your veins, your stomach clenches and one push against your g-spot sends your whole world crumbling around you. White blots fill your vision and your limbs feel like electricity is being shot through them, sending pins and needles to your finger tips.

Once again, Rick fucks you through your orgasm, putting your pleasure first as you clench around him. When you've come around a little, you see him hesitate as he's about to release.

"Cum inside me," you say, almost begging, holding him inside you and gazing into his eyes.

He nearly crumbles at your words and the way you look at him. The next thing you know, you feel his warmth spill inside you with a profane grunt and he holds himself inside you as his head tips back and eyes screw closed.

You stroke his hair out of his face and watch his beauty in awe as he cums inside together. It's a surreal moment that you want to remember forever.

After a minute of you appreciating each other, he pulls out of you and places you down gently, helping you stand up on your unstable legs. He tucks himself back into his pants before helping you get yourself dressed again, being extra careful with his touches, compared to how he just fucked you.

You sink down onto the floor, needing to sit and rest, and Rick joins you.

"We've got ourselves into a mess, haven't we?" You chuckle.

"A little." He nods. He presses two fingers against your cheek and uses them to turn you to look at him. He places a soft kiss on your lips before pulling back and smiling sweetly. "I don't regret it one bit, though."

You smile in return. "Is it true what you said? About wanting me since we first met?"

He nods and mindlessly plays with your hair, twiddling it in his fingers. "I've never met anyone like you before."

"And I've never met anyone like you."

Rick sighs. "The group are going to wonder where we are."

"Right, yeah." You agree. "We'd better get back. I've got an origami swan to make."

"Actually," Rick says, holding his finger up, "I think Carl will be making it. You're just advising him."

You laugh at his playful tone. "My apologies. Credit to Carl where it's due."

The two of you stand up, and as you do so, Rick runs his fingers over your neck.

"Fuck," he mutters.

"What?" You ask, suddenly worried, thinking maybe reality had dawned on him.

He traces over the bruises forming over your neck with his fingers, tickling slightly. "I'm going to have some explaining to do."

A smile forms on his face and relief washes over you. This might undoubtedly cause further tensions in the group, but things with you and Rick might just end up as you'd hoped after all.

#rick grimes #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fic #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x reader #andrew lincoln

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caufield193 · 15 days

Text

Just being honest here but I am trying so hard to not hate Judith… not because I hate her but because of all these yt feminist who only started liking her because RJ exist. It’s hilarious how they use her to hide their racism. Idk if it’s just me, but anytime someone says anything untrue but harmful about Rj, no one bats an eyelash… there are literal hashtags of people bullying the real kid but that’s okay. His Instagram is filled with folks calling him the N word.Yet the moment someone says something true about judith, who is FICTIONAL!!! NOT A REAL HUMAN BEING.( her not being ricks, and being the product of Shane ) man they get soooo upset… and we all know why!

Rick wanted RJ… this isn’t the same for Judith, but he learned to love her.

RJ is ricks legacy, and Judith is not. Yt feminist are accustomed to seeing themselves as wanted, as desired, and when a melanated little boy was desired and planned for, and not the child of a love affair between a white Baby mama and her baby daddy… their true colors show. Historically and stereotypically, a baby mama was a black woman begging to be free… except Michonne is so loved, and chosen, and declared to be the love of ricks life. So often, a black woman has a baby with no support, a baby by a different man, yet Rick truly wanted and planned for his little namesake. Michonne was content, Rick is the one who Wanted RJ. So when you have a flipped narrative where Lori, a white woman is the baby mama to Shane, bringing a white child to Rick that by yt feminist standards, Rick should want her and not have mixed feelings like we saw him have in the beginning, considering he couldn’t even look at Judith when she was first born. (considering that a normal human would have a hard time accepting a child that will forever remind you of how shitty your wife and best friend were) usually it would be a black child in Judith’s shoes, but it’s not. Rick has two kids, and the black one was wanted, planned for in a two parent and healthy home that wasn’t toxic, unlike Judith, who comes from a background usually associated with blackness

They use exscuses like, “ he’s not badass he doesn’t do anything like Carl .” But let’s be honest. RJ is 7… we’ve never seen Carl that young.. yet we’ve seen Judith at Carls age, and yet she hasn’t done anything remotely cool like Carl. So if anyone’s got plot armor it’s her… or they’ll say, RJ had awkward lines, when his made the most sense as he always considered his father the brave man. That is the only thing he knew him as.

Listen, I love how Michonne loves Judith because she truly adopted her, not because she had to but because she wanted to…. But I am so happy that Rick, a white man who married a black woman wants his biracial son, cared about his personality, and not just whether he was alive or not, because it really is making these dude bros upset… and yt feminist

It’s the fact that you can make fun of any child on the show, but god forbid you make fun of Judith or say something that’s the true, it’s the end of the world… a hit dog gonna holler

Have you ever noticed.. it’s okay to say RJ doesn’t deserve the hat… despite him being a grimes. It’s okay to say “RJ live execution.” It’s okay to say that RJ is lame and weak, despite him being 7. But if you point out that Rick has a hard time accepting Judith in the beginning, if you point out that he dreams of Carl and Michonne to stay alive at the CRM, but dreaming of Judith never even crossed him mind… if you point out that everytime Rick asked about Judith it was only to ensure that she was alive… which is on brand considering he told Michonne, “ I had to accept that… so I could keep her alive.” Not so he could love her or bond with her… if you point out all these little nuggets that shows that Rick, a fictional man, struggled to accept a fictional child that will forever carry the DNA of Shane and Lori… suddenly every yt feminist within two mile radius becomes triggered.. I’m just sick of it. Truly I hope there is a S2, where RJ is older and more marketed… purely just to piss certain people off.

#richonne #rj grimes #rick and michonne #michonne

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fandomout · 2 years

Note

if u can please write a carl gallagher x fem reader where they’re teenagers working at the same place eg a diner and carl hates everyone there but her trope? tysm 🫶🏼💗💗

I took some inspo from things in my life. It was kinda therapeutic and nice to write this out. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

I am still working on the other requests I have, but they will be written. Lol. Also, MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

Carl Gallagher x Female Reader-"Hate everyone but you"

Carl was getting to my he diner late as usual even with the standing goal to get there in time to see her.

He bursts through the door to see that she’d already made it to work. He was in the process of waving at her when their manager bumped into him, and the manager stated, “You’re late.”

Carl shook his head and explained, “Don’t think so. I got here before you. I would call that on time.”

“Oh really? I got something for you.” The manger flicks Carl off with a smile before walking off.

Carl's response was, “Dickhead.“

Carl clocked in and went in to wash the few dishes already in the sink; however, it became clear to him quickly that it was a slow morning.

He looked at the floors and tables spotlessly clean. He thought about how she was the only one that cared enough to do the actual job. Her eyes were quick to find her sitting down and admire her as she sat watching the sun illuminate her. The cashier walked past him, and she commented, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“Oh shut up. You wish you could be that beautiful.”

The cashier gasped and retorted, “You ass.”

“Hey, I’m the one minding my business; you came up to me.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Well, you're ugly so who won?” He shrugs and laughs slightly at her.

She replied in mutters; however, she was quick to walk away after Carl gave her a taunting wave and the words, “Bye.”

Carl's eyes fall back onto her, and she's rubbing at her eyes softly and blinking aggressively. He looked at the coffee pot on the counter and made his way over. He asks a question he already knows the answer to, “Tired?” He lifts the coffee pot in the air and turns the cup over.

She responds with a small smile to answer, “Yes, actually. Thank you.”

He puts the coffee pot back where it’s supposed to, and he sits in the both across from you. He nervously moved his thumbs back and forth on each other, and he struggled to find words, “So…Umm…” There was a small silence as you finished preparing your coffee how you like and asking, “How did you spend your day off yesterday?”

“Yesterday? Well, just the usual family is crazy. Really nothing much though.“

“Everything okay?” He smiles at the question and nods before asking

“What about you? I mean what do you do for fun.”

“Well, these days I’m not too sure. I actually picked up a shift yesterday actually.”

“Why?”

“They said they needed someone. So I came in.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t have anything to do anyway. I actually asked them to switch my schedule, so they don’t have to keep calling me.”

“Your switching days?”

“Yeah. Switching my Wednesday for a Tuesday. It works better that way for me. I can have all day off of nothing.”

“Wow-Well, if your not doing anything-We cou-”

The manager smiles smug as he walks over and states in an upbeat tone, “Carl, get back to the back work. Do your fucking job?”

“You-”

The manager looks at you and says, “Y/N a pleasure. I could just eat you up.“

Carl looks to see how she hunches over. The reaction and situation makes his hands ball up. Quickly, he says, “Fuck off!”

The manager opens his mouth before closing it. He walked off because Carl’s gaze and balled fists sent too many alerts through him. Carl gave a smile to Y/N, which she returned. After that, Carl went back to work to take away from the anger the interaction gave him.

The diner got slightly more busy, so the other dishwasher and Carl were working together to get it down. While Carl was washing some dishes, he overhears the other dishwasher say, “Yesterday was busy. You know Sal doesn’t even do too much work. Even with that, I have too much going on on Tuesdays. I doubt Manger. Fucktard would let me switch.”

Carl finished up his pile and went over and offered to switch Tuesdays. “Really? Man, I thought you were a son of a bitch, but you're alright.”

“Me son of a bitch? Don’t make me regret switching with you now. Mind giving me Thursdays. You can take my Friday.”

“Sure. No problem. I’ll let the boss know.” Carl waved him off with a smile and continued to work. He’d have the same schedule as you for the weeks to come, and he couldn’t wait.

Soon enough, the morning shift was over, and it was time to go. Carl rushed to get ready to go, so he could catch you. You're always too quick and he misses you. Despite the effort not resulting in what he wanted, he still smiled knowing he’d get to see you tomorrow.

It was evening shift this time on that Thursday, and he came in a bit late as he walked toward the dinner. Luckily, you were just getting there too. He smiled and said, “You're not early?”

She shook her head and said, “Night Shift is always worse, so I take my time getting here. Hopefully it ends soon…you don’t work today? Are you covering for someone?” He felt himself warm inside knowing that she did notice him. He could have sworn he answered but only in his head. “Carl?”

“Oh sorry I thought I answered you.”

“Only in your head huh. It’s okay it happens.”

“Actually my schedule changed too.”

“Oh…you didn’t say anything the last time we talked.”

“Oh that?…Manager fucktard interrupted our conversation.”

“Manager fucktard?” She bursted out laughing full heartedly and called his whole body warmed at the sound. He wanted to hear it again; he got what he wanted as he seriously said, “Yeah. Fucktard.”

“Oh that’s good.” He smiled at her and laughed nervously along with her.

They made it to work and the shit show began. Carl actually didn’t realize what he’d gotten himself into. He’s never worked the night shift. Hectic and stressful but he remembered why he did it. Catching glances of her making it worthwhile and filling him with energy. Working even faster at work.

When things were winding down, it all took a turn for the worst. Y/N was stuck with a group of boys to wait on.

Immediately, one commented, “Nice ass.”

Y/N gasped out before trying to play it off and get it over with and questioned, “What can I get you all?”

Another replied, “How about your number?”

“You all need a few minutes. No problem. I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks for the view.” Y/N shook her head heading to her other tables until she went up to her manager, who sat at a counter.

She straight up asked him, “Hey, can you cover the group in the corner?”

“Why?”

“It's difficult because we’re the same age. You’d make it all go a lot quicker.”

“Hun, I could do that… “Really-”

“But, I won’t.”

“What?”

“This work is professional.”

“They really will be here forever if you don’t step in.”

“Dear…Look, you know what?”

“What?”

“I could do it for a price…” His hand starts to make its way on her thigh. Y/N pulls away instantly and walks back over to the table of boys. She puts on her facade and asks once again, “What can I get you?”

“How about some cake?”

“We don’t actually have much dessert. Certainly, not cake.” The group of boys laugh.

Y/N gets all the rage built. It gave her the courage to say, “If you aren’t going to get anything, you have to go.”

“Is that any way to talk to a customer? That’s a bit rude.”

”You’re lucky that’s all you get. You are being more than rude. Also, disgusting, creepy, and straight up pathetic that you have to do this just to get any kind of attention. I’m done with your table.” Y/N goes to walk away before one of the boys grabs her wrist. “Don’t touch-” Y/N doesn’t have to finish the sentence before Carl is jumping over the counter, removing his hand with a strong grip. He tackled the boy to the ground pounding his fists down. The other boys started to get up. Y/N stopped at least two from getting up as she kicked them back into the booth and used her order book to hit anywhere she could. Honestly, those boys never had a chance. Carl was livid for your treatment. Soon the manager was up and pulled Carl off of one of the boys. He pushed Carl toward you and yelled, “You’re Fired Gallagher!” Y/N looked over to Carl before she strides over to the manager not caring about the bodies on the ground and punching the manager square in the face. “Fucktard! I quit! Touching a minor! Watch your children with this one!” Y/N pointed to herself. Carl got his and Y/N’s things before walking out together. The adrenaline ran out and Y/N was left shy. She uttered to Carl, “I’m sorry I got you fired.”

“That? Who cares?”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Come on, they need people. They’ll call us back. If not, they don’t deserve us. They certainly don’t deserve you.” The words made her shy as she put her hands and looked down to say, “Carl…Ummm. Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine. Are you?” He grabbed your hands gently, and you both stopped walking. You stayed silent, and he continued to speak, ”The fact that you have to deal with assholes like that-It’s so fucked. I’m angry for you.”

“Is that why you did that back there?”

“That? I mean yeah…”

“Oh.”

“But, not just that. I don’t know if you noticed I hate everyone there.”

“I’ve noticed. Spouting your swears left and right.”

“I hate everyone but you.”

“I-Thanks?” Carl moved his hands from reviewing your hands to holding them. His breath hitched slightly before he smiled and said, Y/N…I have big feelings for you. It probably doesn’t sound so pretty. Honestly, I’m not that smart. I couldn’t stand the way they treated you in there, and I lost it…Anyway, I’ve been trying to gain so much courage to ask you out, but lose the nerve or get interrupted every time. I’d understand it if you said no, but I really had to ask.”

“You need that much courage just to ask me out even though you just fought all those guys with no fear?”

“Pretty much.”

“I-” Y/N held his hands back before leaning forward and kissing his lips softly. Carl leaned forward trying to catch your lips pulling away as he was fully enveloped in bliss. You laughed at his reaction, and he laughed at himself too. “I-Carl…I hope you realize not anyone just does what you did. I thought you were really cute, don’t worry…You’re not the only one. I’d love to go on a date with you and some other time we can find a job together?”

“As long as my schedule matches yours, I really don’t care where we work. Uh-” He scratches the back of his head softly and asks, “Can I kiss you again? I really liked it. Won’t be able to stop thinking about it if I don’t get at least one more before the end of the day.” You smile and nod as he comes in close.

Hope your day got better

Shameless Masterlist

Full Masterlist

#shameless imagine #shameless imagines #x reader #reader insert #imagine #fluff #shamelessimagine #shamelessimagines #shameless masterlist #carl gallagher imagine #carl gallagher x reader #carl gallagher one shot #one shot #oneshots #female reader

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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

Note

Any headcanons for Embalmer and Andrew? 🥸

Oh yes! I am systematically working my way through most of the characters ehehe. I actually think I need to do some situational writing for Aesop as practice, he was a little harder for me to pin down than the other characters I've done so far.

As always, feel free to send me requests if you like my stuff <3 these are fun to do before work ;;

Identity(V) Headcanons: Aesop Carl

-With my current knowledge of the characters, I think Aesop is one of the more dangerous people in the actual horror-story telling behind IDV…. But I’ve been filling these under the game/stageplay setup where the manor is an unescapable, endless game and no one actually dies for realsies…so we’ll ignore his murderous training and tendencies for now.

-That said, he’s still going to be a very difficult guy to get along with. Aesop is confirmed as autistic, and most of his related struggles fall into social categories. He does not typically enjoy casual touch or conversations about anything other than his work. In fact, the longer the conversation is, the worse time he’s having. If there’s a lot of people around too?? He’s McStruggling.

-It takes him a very long time to become genuinely comfortable and friendly with someone, and only then does he start to explore them beyond his comfort zone. Luckily, since everyone is stuck in this would-be purgatory, you’ve got nothing but time!

-One-on-one time is best for Aesop, and while you’re first getting to know him it’s recommended you do not initiate this unless he’s in a public space. He’s mentally prepared to be approached at those times. If you try to barge in on his quiet time or safe spaces before he clears you to do so, it’s only going to hurt his opinion of you.

-He most definitely has long-stints of going nonverbal. At times, the amount of conversation expected of him is too much and he just shuts down completely. If he’s pressed too much during these times he may fall to tears or lashing out. He may, however, be willing to write out any answers that are very important or time-sensitive.

-The trustworthiness of the living and the dead are flip-flopped in Aesop’s mind. When someone is dead, they are a resting summation of all their deeds in life. He learns about who people were through the clues they leave behind: their health, their scars, their effects, the company they receive at their funerals. He considers these things to be more truthful than whatever the deceased would tell or show him about themselves. The living, meanwhile, are all actors, just proxies for what they want to be rather than what they actually are. This is a large reason why he feels closer to the dead than the living.

-Aesop’s favorite love languages are a little difficult to pin down, but I’m going to say Quality Time is his number one—especially when you’re good with parallel play and keep things quiet. This will foster feelings of safety and comfort in relation to your presence! He also likes Words of Affirmation, but mostly in the form of letters, as he’s a little biased for them from all the times he’s nosed through a patient’s effects. Even when he’s head-over-heels (or as close as he can be, since I honestly get AceAro vibes from him) he leans towards written communication but could learn to trust verbal praise in smaller doses.

-When he’s very close with someone, he can learn to enjoy a good hug now and then, or lend them his shoulder to lean on, but he always prefers to keep his arms uncaged so it’s easier to pull away. Unwelcome physical contact feels like bugs crawling under his skin. It’s obvious when he’s had far too much of it because that sensation leads to twitching and spasming, like he’s trying to shake it out.

-He likes to read! His favorites are mostly nonfiction. Biographies (not autobiographies) and other works of an educational nature are preferred, but he has been known to pick up some poetry every now and again. This is due in part to not having finished school and thirsting for all the knowledge he wasn’t allowed.

-He treats learning about his loved ones like reading these books; they are a list of facts and stories to be memorized. Small exceptions to any major preferences can be confusing for Aesop to keep track of, but in general he is very good at committing people’s likes, dislikes, and histories to memory.

-He doesn’t really care to celebrate his own birthday, but likes to help others celebrate theirs. The kitchen is far from his preferred workspace, but he’s actually a decent baker when the situation calls for it. The cake decoration….well, he’ll leave that to someone else. But the cake itself will taste good!

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv embalmer #aesop carl x reader #turbulentscrawl #identity v

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richonnesbitch · 1 month

Note

It’s too bad certains corners of the TWD fandoms are as annoying as they are (not to mention extremely racists and sexists) because otherwise I would wish for a reunion with other characters much more. I don’t actually *need* it! I just needed and wanted the Richonne and Grimes reunion! But it would be nice to see.. As annoyed as *I* am with some of these characters (for example, you could never make me feel bad for not being bothered (to put it mildly!) by Tara’s death! Idc idc), I also know they do mean the world to Rick and Michonne. So yeah, it would be nice to see them reunite with their extended family. And probably chief among them to Rick and Michonne, Daryl (for all the talk of him being Rick’s brother… let’s talk about him being Michonne’s brother as well). But the stans are so annoying about it, I’m actually glad we didn’t get to see it! This was for Rick and Michonne fans only, stay mad !

Yes to all of this!! If it weren't for the annoying stans, I would wish more for richonne and team family reunions. I care about richonne and their kids first and foremost but I also do like other characters. Like I really love Michonne and Daryl's friendship so it'd be great to see them reunite. But all you ever hear about is Rick and Daryl or how Daryl is just as important to Rick as Michonne is, if not more. But that's definitely not the case. The most important people in the world to Rick are Michonne, Carl, Judith, and RJ. TOWL proves it which is why they despite it so much. And the thing is.... Rick isn't even the most important person to Daryl. Carol is. And Connie. And probably other people I don't know about because I'm not the most up to date with the show lol.

They really want Rick to up and leave his family to go find Daryl which is just insanity. There's no way in this world Rick is ever leaving his family again and also Daryl would NEVER want Rick to leave his family for him. So all this discourse is crazy.

I'm certain they will reunite eventually but only when Daryl returns home. If he even returns home at all. I think he really likes it in Paris, if I'm not mistaken?

I hope I don't get any backlash for this. I love Daryl and didn't mean any disrespect.

And don't even get me started on NEGAN. Rick and Michonne despise Negan. Their reaction to seeing him again won't be a positive one, especially with him being out of the cage he belongs in.

Fun fact, Andy and Danai did want a reunion with the rest of team family but they couldn't do it. I think because of technical issues like not enough time (they said that it would have taken two extra episodes) and also the Alexandria set has been demolished. So we really came close to it!

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cybrpwup · 1 year

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ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ || ɢʀᴜɴᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

grunk x f!reader !

Warnings: none Summary: Grunk and Y/n are the only ones oblivious of their feelings. (You are Isaac younger sister to wtvr hence why you’re living at the house) requested?; yes !

Y/n crawled from where she had been sitting to perch on Carl's lap. He rested one hand on her hip and the other cupped her cheek as they both leaned forward to kiss each other. It felt oddly surreal.

Grunk was the first to pull away, pressing his lips together. He was looking at her as if studying her expression to see how she felt about it.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

y/n couldn’t help but giggle slightly at his words before she caught his lips in hers once again.

She could feel Grunk’s fingers beginning to curl into the flesh of her hips as he held her there, kissing her for every second he couldn’t before now.

"Breakfast!!"

It took a moment for Grunk to remember where he had fallen asleep; he was in the guest bedroom of the group chats house, the morning after last to leave vc 3 where he’d been dared to fly out and was now spending the weekend.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, taking a seat on the couch; where most meals were had. Only a couple of the other guys were up even though it was almost the afternoon.

"Good morning, Jack." Y/n greeted the boy as she placed a plate in front of him. He ruffled his hair and gave a smile back.

Tanner appeared in the stairwell, "I am starving.”

“I’m gonna bring these up to Nick and Blake since they’re obviously not going to be getting up anytime soon, your plates right there." The female huffed as she carried 2 plates up the stairs, Grunks eyes on her the whole time.

Suddenly she was standing in front of the brunette, waving a hand in his face, “Are you here with me?” She laughed as he snapped back to reality.

“Hi. Yeah, hello.”

“You’re on the remote, silly goose.” She pointed to the remote that was tucked under his leg; he inched over letting an apology slip past his lips.

She plopped down into the spot he’d just moved from, their shoulders touching. A comfortable silence broke out between the two as they ate and focused on the tv. “I’m glad you’re here, we need to hangout more,” Y/n finally spoke, her eyes never leaving the tv. Maybe because she was really into the show or she simply couldn’t say it while looking at him.

y/n would be the first to admit. Grunk wasn't as bad as she thought he would be when they first met. On the contrary, he was way better than she anticipated. He could be weird and goofy sometimes, but things were always fun with him.

There were obvious feelings for each other, the group was constantly teasing him for the way he got all excited when y/n came around.

They were currently lying on the front porch after Y/n had suggested to get away from the chaotic house. It was getting dark, a couple stars already speckled the sky as the two of them babbled on about anything they could think of.

"Do you know what that star is called?" Grunk asked, his hand pointing up at the sky.

A small huff of laughter passed her lips, "Huh? How would I know?" She questioned, looking up at the star.

"Dunno. You seem like the kind of girl who would know." He shrugged, glancing over at her for a quick moment.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A calm silence settled between the two as they continued to stare up at the sky. She could tell Grunk wanted to say something to her; god, she could almost hear his thoughts beside him. She turned her head to look at him, perhaps initiating another conversation to pull him out of his, evidently, troubling thoughts. However, she found that he was already looking at her; she felt her face heat up at the intense look on his face.

She let out a small laugh and hit his chest lightly, "What?"

He hesitated for a moment as if he didn't know if he wanted to say what he was thinking, "I keep dreaming about you- us." He finally blurted

y/n felt her heart pick up at his words and her cheeks flush, "Really? What happens?" She asks, curious as to what mischief he could get into in his head.

He ran his fingers through his hair and licked his lips, letting out a laugh as he recalls his dream, "Usually it starts off with us uh kissing," He replied, sitting up and turning his body to face her, only for her to do the same.

"Oh?" She lifted an eyebrow, a wave of insecurity washed over her as she messed with her hair.

He couldn't help the nervous smile that broke out at her reaction, not hesitating to ask her, "Can I show you?"

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, wondering if he was joking with her, "I uh- yeah sure. yea." She cringed at the way she stuttered, but didn't have long to think about it as Grunk leant in and caught her lips on his own.

It was always exciting to kiss someone new. The first shy touches of yet to be claimed lips, leading to soft sighs and deepening feelings. The feather light touch on her lips made her feel warm and safe as he pulled her into his lap.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long." Grunk spoke once they both needed to come up for air.

y/n couldn’t help but giggle slightly at his words before she caught his lips in hers once again. She could feel Grunks fingers beginning to curl into the flesh of her hips as he held her there, kissing her for every second he couldn’t before now. "Then what happens?" she spoke, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip, eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes.

Grunk rolled his eyes at the question, letting out a nervous laugh and rolled her onto her back, hands entwined and giggling like the pair of lovesick teenagers that they were. Neither of them wasted anytime, attaching their lips to one another picking up where they left off.

Why hadn't she done this with him sooner?

They were so lost in each others touch that they never heard the front door creak open, “alright, that’s enough.” Isaac nudged the two with his foot; his overprotective brother coming out, “your door is staying open for the rest of the weekend. Come inside.” He swiftly went back inside with a chuckle, calling to the others, “guess who’s making out on the front porch?”

Grunk flopped down beside her, chests heaving and loud breaths and giggles coming from them both.

none of them wanted to speak and ruin the moment and they sat like that for a while. Ultimately it was Grunk who spoke first, “I knew I would love kissing you, but this was…”

“Even better than the dream?”

“Yes.”

Y/n let out a hearty laugh as Grunk reached across and pulled her into his arms.

#grunk x reader #grunkkk #the group chat #the group chat x reader #the groupchat #the group chat podcast #isaacwhy x reader #grunk

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fuckshitslover · 1 year

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val's masterlist and rules :)

MY MASTERLIST

FUCKSHIT - mid90s

EMMETT CULLEN - TWILIGHT SAGA

Coming soon!...

PATRICK HOCKSTETTER - IT 2017

Coming soon!...

VANCE HOPPER - THE BLACK PHONE

Coming soon!...

CARL GALLAGHER - SHAMELESS

STEVE HARRINGTON - STRANGER THINGS

Coming soon!...

GALLAVICH DAUGHTER - SHAMELESS

Coming soon!...

GEORGIE COOPER - YOUNG SHELDON

Coming soon!...

RODRICK HEFFLEY - DIARY OF A WIMPY KID

Coming soon!...

OTHER CHARACTERS

None yet!...

RULES

I will do NSFW, though i’m not sure i’m very good at it. I will write for any character on this list, and if you happen to request one that i know, ill see if i can write for them! I don't write male!readers, and i will default to fem!reader unless said to be gender neutral. I will update my masterlist when i make a new work, and FEEL FREE TO REQUEST! I do go to school, so ill probably be a bit short on time but ill try my best to do anything i;m interested it whenever i can! I am an ADD bisexual female, so i will say the f slur if necessary, and i will try to refrain from, but if there is a line that says the r slur, i might refer to it. None of my work is meant to offend anyone, it is purely for fun. Ill try my best to respond to constructive criticism, but if you're rude, you'll get blocked 🙂

#fuckshit x reader #patrick hockstetter #fuckshit #patrick hockstetter x reader #mid90s #it2017 #bowers gang #emmett cullen #emmett cullen x reader #twilight x reader #the twilight saga #twilight #georgie cooper x reader #steve harrington x reader #patrick hockstetter imagine #smut #vance hopper x reader #carl gallagher x reader

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 1 month

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Wash. RINSE. Repeat. - Dean x Reader/OFC

"Rinse" is Part 3 of the Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Series

Rating Mature

Dean x Reader/OFC

Tags: Canon-compliant (or trying to be), Season 3, Lots of Angst, Demon Assault/Attempted Sexual Assault (trigger), Show Level Gore/Violence, Language, Pining, Dean is infuriating at times, Sam is the sweetest, Main character death (offscreen; but, it's Supernatural, so you know, it's probably not sticking)

Word Count: 15,000

Summary: The boys stink. Something needs to be done about it.

The above summary was something I came up with when I thought this was going to be a fun little one shot. (hah! stupid writer and her stupid assumptions. how dare she think she can make plans and have Sam and Dean adhere to them.) It still applies to the beginning (and this sniff, sniff theme may come up again) but I'm going to add that this story is a first person reader insert that weaves in and out of show canon.

"Rinse" won't make a lick of sense if you haven't read the other parts. If you want to read the previous installments, you can find them on AO3 -- WASH -- PRE-RINSE

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Friends Becoming Strangers" square.

A huge thanks to @jacklesversebingo for allowing me to use one of my bingo squares in a part of a story I was currently working on. These bingo prompts have genuinely tested my creativity and provided some meaty plot twists. Thank you, thank you!

Rinse

~ Six Months Later ~

I bolt upright in bed, mid-gasp.

My heart pounds. Flashes of what caused my pulse to race appear in the curtain call of each blink.

Bobby. In the dark with a flashlight. In his house? Sneaking around, like he’s investigating an unfamiliar place. Then, he was attacked by something. Thrown to the floor in his kitchen. A blur of arms clawing. A screeching sound that wasn’t human.

What the hell? I shake the shiver out of my spine and glance over at the alarm clock. Fifteen minutes before it goes off. There’s no way I’ll get back to sleep. I resign myself to get out of bed and start the day.

It’s gonna be a busy one at Hoyt and Hagan. There are two client appointments on the calendar. I’ve got some note taking during and transcribing to do after each of them.

I debate with myself in the shower as to when I should check on Bobby. It’s still too early and he’ll only scoff in my ear at the unnecessary concern.

I decide I’ll call him during my lunch break, all nonchalant like. Hey Bobby, it’s your favorite psychic nut job, poking out of hunter hibernation for some updates.

Just to be sure he’s okay.

I grab a slice and a soda at Tony’s Pizza Parlor for lunch. The four block walk gives me a chance to stretch my legs and see if they’ll be short staffed over the next week. I need to bulk up my car maintenance fund. According to Nate at Carl’s Auto Shop, I will probably need to replace the brake pads in a few months. Before the squeaks turn into screeches at every stop.

Gary’s working the counter. I try not to fuss with my hair too much in his presence. His dimples drill into his cheeks with a bright smile. My stomach spins like it’s in a washing machine. I ask him how his Aunt Cheryl is doing. The swoony, sensitive six footer moved back to Matamoras when his only living relative, Cheryl Somers, fell ill and couldn’t take care of herself anymore.

It’s been five months since Gary arrived and became ubiquitous around this tiny town where you only have to breathe heavily to become the subject of juicy gossip. He works a variety of service jobs. I’m blessed that one of them is at Tony’s. My random shifts have intersected with his on occasion. I am also cursed because I still haven’t gotten the nerve to get past simple pleasantries. Mainly I worry I’ll slip about my personal details or he’ll ask me a question about my family. And, I’ll have to lie. Because he’d never believe the truth. The people that would understand are just as damaged as I am.

Playing at normal is tough.

I scoot into a booth that has a nice vantage of the counter so I can spy on Gary. I pry the greasy pepperoni one by one from the stringy mozzarella. The deconstruction exercise prolongs my excuse to hang around with my solitary slice. I mindfully chew. Taste buds light up with oregano, tomato sauce, processed toppings, and velvety cheese.

The one brain cell not focused on Gary reminds me about Bobby. I dab at my face with a one-ply scratchy napkin, then tap in the start of a phone number I know by heart on my cell. Bobby’s name appears from my contacts after the fifth digit.

I’m still miffed about Garth accidently dropping my old phone in the depths of the Delaware when he visited six months back. He felt so bad he drove me to the nearest cell phone store and bought me a new one right on the spot. He got me a newer and nicer model. It didn’t make up for all the contacts and messages I lost, though. It took me weeks to connect with almost everyone I could remember.

I wait for Bobby to pick up. It rings. And rings. And rings. The voicemail answers. “You’ve reached Bobby. You know what to do.”

I know what to do, but I hang up instead. I’m that person that hits redial and gives it another try. Bobby is prone to leaving his cell phone atop a stack of books or on the kitchen counter as he hops from room to room. So, there’s a chance he might…

“You’ve reached Bobby. You know what to do.”

I sigh and collect my words. “Hey, Bobby. It’s been a bit. Wanted to see how you’re doing. Nothing much new on this end. Give me a call, though, soon. Yeah? Been told my car’s gonna need new brake pads. Wanna make sure I’m not getting hosed on the cost to replace them. Okay? Thanks. Bye.”

“Who’s Bobby?” The voice drifts over my shoulder from behind me.

Oh God. Gary’s asking that question. I’m gonna have to turn and actually make eye contact and answer. I swallow and rotate in the booth a bit. He’s wiping down the table, tray filled with trash in his grasp. Wavy jet black bangs obscure his eyes for a brief second. It’s not enough time before his onyx irises gaze with interest in my direction.

“Huh?” I pretend I didn’t hear him.

“Who’s Bobby? He’s not the only guy that knows a thing or two about cars.” His smile is bright. “I could probably help you out. Take a look.”

“Oh.” I want to bang my head into the table to shake out any words that are longer than one syllable. “That’s… that’s…”

“He family? Bobby?” Gary stands beside my booth now.

“Yeah.”

Gary nods. “Well, offer’s available if you need it.” Someone, maybe Maribel, shouts his name across the restaurant. “Good luck.” He darts away.

“Thanks.” I groan at my suave communication skills.

~~~~

(Italicized Dialogue from S3, Episode 10, “Dream a Little Dream of Me” - Teleplay by Cathryn Humphris; Story by Sera Gamble & Cathryn Humphris)

Dean sat at Bobby’s hospital bedside.

It’d only been a couple days since he got the call. A doctor had been looking for a Mr. Snyderson.

Bobby enjoyed informing Dean years ago of the name he would have to answer to if he received a call from someone in search of Bobby Singer’s emergency contact.

“How the hell’d you get yourself into this mess, Bobby?” he asked aloud.

Dean wondered if Bobby had picked the name Edgar Snyderson so that would be all John’s eldest son would focus on. Not the fact that if he ever heard it uttered by anyone else, it would be because Bobby wouldn’t be able to call him a numbnut or an idjit.

Sam was due back any minute. Dean’d tasked Sam with the research part of this mystery, which included combing through the collage of pictures and news clippings hidden on the back closet wall in Bobby’s hotel room.

The room where his comatose body had been found.

Dean had gone to the university to dig up any information on a Dr. Walter Gregg, whose obit had graced Bobby’s case board. Finding out about unapproved dream studies led to the name of a test subject, Jeremy Frost. The college kid made it clear the doctor had been playing fast and loose with his research and the people involved. That equalled a whole lot of potential enemies and nefarious insinuators. Bobby was probably close to figuring out who the murderer was.

The machines whirred and beeped around the man he’d bet his life on, if he had much left of it to wager.

Dean was shy of six months before his demon bill came due.

“I don’t need you rolling out the red carpet for me in the hereafter. Pretty sure you ain’t gonna be taking a sauna or walking over raked coals. But we don’t need you practicing your harp skills anytime soon, either.” He bit his tongue at the name that almost slipped out. He tried not to mention her if he could help it. The more time went on, the more he hoped it would stick; his nonexistence for her. “It’d kill her if something happened to you.” He nodded to no one. “We’ll figure this out.”

As if on cue, his studious brother entered the room. “How is he?”

“No change.” Dean wiped a hand over his face and stood to meet Sam by the tray table at the edge of the bed. “What you got?”

“Well, considering what you told me about the Doc’s experiments, Bobby’s wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense.”

“How so?”

“This plant, Silene Capensis, also known as African Dream Root, it’s been used by shamans and medicine men for centuries.”

“Let me guess – they dose up, bust out the didgeridoos, and start kicking around the hacky.”

Sam scoffed. “Not quite. If you believe the legends, it’s used for dream walking. I mean entering another person’s dreams, poking around in their heads.”

“I take it we believe the legends.”

“When don’t we? But dream-walking is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this dream root is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with enough practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good. You could turn good dreams bad.”

“And killing people in their sleep.” Dean added the obvious.

“For example. So, let’s say this doc was testing the stuff on his patients Tim Leary-Style.”

“Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night.”

“But what about Bobby? I mean if the killer came after him, how come he’s still alive?”

They both stared at Bobby.

“I don’t know.” Dean tapped Sam in the middle of his chest. “Come on. Man needs as much beauty rest as he can get before we wake him. And a kiss on the lips better not end up being the cure.” He strolled to the doorway and turned back in time to see Sam making his way to Bobby’s side.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing we’ve ever had to do to save someone.” Sam chided in a soft whisper over his shoulder towards Dean. “Stay strong until we can figure this out, Bobby.” His gigantor hand gripped Bobby’s pale one.

Dean marched out into the hallway in wait. Something heavy lodged in the base of Dean’s throat. He swallowed but the fear wouldn’t loosen. The possibility of losing Bobby. The memories of his father in the hospital right before he died kept rising to the surface. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Sam finally joined him. They walked down the hall towards the nurse’s station and the elevators. Their steps got into that synced soldier rhythm they easily fell into often. Dean wished it would continue in silence. But out of the corner of his eye he spotted Sam’s mouth open and close. Trying out the lines in his head before he’d have to share what he was thinking.

With that much thought, Dean knew it wasn’t going to be anything good.

When it was only the two of them in the elevator going down, Sam spoke. “Am I gonna have to be the one that mentions the elephant in the room?”

Dean’s gaze lifted to the ceiling. He sighed.

“We gotta call her, Dean.”

“No. We don’t. We’re gonna handle it so she doesn’t have to ever know what kind of danger Bobby was in.”

“She deserves to know,” Sam mumbled. “Bobby’s important to her. Plus, all of this dream stuff…”

“Sam,” Dean started.

Sam got his hands and arms in the conversation now, waving them about. “She should be here!”

“No!” Dean huffed, raising his voice back at Sam. He glanced at the number display. “I still need to work this case with you. I shouldn’t even be in the same state as her, let alone the same room. We can’t risk that, Sam. Not again.”

“You of all people know what she’s capable of. She could get into Bobby’s head.”

“Yeah. You know it. I know it. Bobby knows it. But, as far as we know, Elena doesn’t. As long as she doesn’t remember me, she won’t be doing any ‘Wonder Twins, Activate’ shit. And we’re gonna keep it that way.”

“Dean!”

“No. Bobby’s been onboard with the plan, all of it, for the past six months. Last I checked, you were, too.”

“Not like you gave any of us a choice.” Sam snarked.

Dean ignored the jab. “Bobby’d want us to exhaust every other option before we pull her into something like this. Again.” He pointed at the floor as the door’s slid open. “We find another way.” He waved a hand for Sam to exit first. “Let’s go, Sherlock.” They covered the distance quickly to another set of double doors. “So, how do we find our homicidal little sandman?”

“It could be anyone.” Sam stated, looking thoroughly exasperated.

“Yeah?”

Yeah.

Dean rattled off possible suspects. “Anyone who knew the doctor, had access to his dream shrooms.”

“Maybe one of his test subjects or something?”

“Possible, but his research is pretty sketchy. I mean, we don’t know how many subjects he had or who all of them were.”

Sam scoffed.

“What?” Dean asked.

Sam sighed, long and deep. “In any other case, we’d be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now.”

Dean halted, pulled at Sam’s forearm to stop his brother’s stride. “Know what? You’re right.”

“What?”

“Let’s go talk to him.”

“Sure. I think we might find the conversation a bit one-sided.”

“Not if we’re tripping on some Dream Root.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

~~~~

There’s been no response from Bobby by the end of my work day.

Something was up. A car question always ensured Bobby would return a call within hours.

I call the other hunter who knows almost everyone’s business as much as Bobby does.

“Elle Woods.” Garth coos his nickname for me. I still don’t get how he made the connection between me and the fictional main character in Legally Blonde. “How’re you doin? To what do I owe this honor?”

“Hey, Garth. I’m trying to get a hold of Bobby. He’s not answering my calls.”

“Oh?” The one syllable expresses confusion.

“Yeah.”

“When’d you last talk to him?”

“It’s been about a month.” My face warms at the confession.

“Oh.” The one syllable is laced with judgment.

I let the guilt was over me as I wait.

“Hm. Well, I had to call him about a case I worked in Baton Rouge, Louisiana last week. There was this circus in town and a murder pinned on one of the performers. Killer clowns couldn’t turn their victims into a pile of green goo last I checked.” Garth chuckles.

I veer the conversation back. “Was he okay? Everything good at the salvage yard?”

“Oh, well, he wasn’t home. Was working his own case.”

My skin tingles at the news. It’s not surprising to hear. Bobby hunts on occasion. It’s more the reminder of the dream I had of him that morning that puts me on edge. “Where was he?”

Garth sighs. “If memory serves right, he was investigating something that happened at a university in, I think, Pittsburgh.”

“Okay, thanks Garth.”

“Sure thing, sweets. Want me to try and check in on him, too?”

I smile. “Appreciate it.”

“I’ll tell him to call you ASAP if I make contact.”

“Thanks.”

“No problemo.”

“Talk soon.”

I hang up. Pittsburgh. It’s clear across in western Pennsylvania. A good six-hour drive from me. Couldn’t be any farther from Matamoras and in the same state. It makes sense he wouldn’t bother to call me. Not like he could do a quick pop in.

Still.

I click my teeth. Moments later, I’m clicking away at the keyboard, searching anything weird over the wire that matches what Garth told me. Only one news headline has me screaming Yahtzee in my head. There’s mention of a university neurologist dying in his sleep. Cause: Unknown.

It’s not much. But, it would catch Bobby’s eye. And he’d do some digging. So, I do the same. The neurologist was the research head of a large, ongoing sleep study. And, another article hints that his death may have been the result of foul play.

I then do what Bobby always suggests I do when I can’t get a hold of him and he’s off on a case somewhere. I contact hospitals in the area.

By the third phone call, I’ve found him. All I can get out of the medical staff is that he’s unresponsive and been in their care for a few days.

An hour later, I’m on I-80, headed to Pittsburgh.

My brakes are squeaking big time.

~~~~

(Italicized Dialogue from S3, Episode 10, “Dream a Little Dream of Me” - Teleplay by Cathryn Humphris; Story by Sera Gamble & Cathryn Humphris)

My driver’s license (fake) gets me the information I need at the hospital. Next of kin and all that. A doctor runs through the updates on Bobby’s current medical state while we stand at the nurse’s station. It's good news. Bobby woke up a few hours ago.

The doc questions why I wasn’t listed as an emergency contact. He mentions that they had to call a Mr. Snyderson instead. I shrug, rattling off that my Dad probably doesn’t think I know how to manage an emergency.

I wonder who the hell Mr. Snyderson is as I get Bobby’s room number and am pointed in the direction to find it. Mainly I’m relieved that the closest thing I have to family - that hasn’t disowned me - is conscious and doing fine by all accounts.

I don’t even need to check the number, hearing Bobby’s voice drift out into the hall from a room just up ahead on the right. “We better work fast… and coffee up. ‘Cause the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep.”

I take a cautious step in and prepare to meet “Mr. Snyderson.” A very tall figure with expansive shoulders stands at the side of Bobby’s bed. His broad back is to the doorway. It’s the moppy head of hair that I recognize first. My brain swims with sudden knowledge and memory. I feel overwhelmed and a bit lightheaded.

Sam. Sam Winchester. A hunt. We worked a hunt together a couple years ago. Road tripped from Maine to California. I even remember spending some time with him at Bobby’s after a car accident he’d been in with his dad. I’m also struck with the fact that he lost his dad. The scattered moments don’t have any connective tissue that I can discern. They catch my attention like twinkling ornaments atop a Christmas tree. Each represents some commemorative event I need to be reminded of.

Bobby sees me in the doorway. His face runs a litany of emotions. Serious to surprised. Welcoming to worried. “L.” He whispers.

I smile. Sam spins. His rotation hints at the shape of someone sitting on the other side of Bobby’s bed. Sam settles with a stare at me and walls off the stranger for the time being.

Sam’s as cute as I remember. There’s a bit more mass to him. And then, I remember us bonding over his psychic abilities. It’s disorienting, the flashes and pops of life bursting out of hibernation.

“L?” Bobby asks. “You doin’ alright there, kid?”

I shake my head and manage a smile again. “Considering I’m visiting you in the hospital, don’t you think I should be the one asking that question?” I hesitate at the awkward glances Sam and Bobby shoot each other. I flap my hands at my sides. “Hey, Sam. How are you doing? Been a while.”

His eyes bug. “H-Hey Elina. Yeah. I’m, I’m doin’ pretty well.” A hand scratches the side of his neck. “How’s things in Matamoras?”

“Good. Doing my best to stay out of trouble.” I point a finger at him. “Are you Mr. Snyderson, who got the call about Bobby instead of me?”

“That’d be me.” There’s a terse answer from the other side of the room. The figure is still hidden by Sam. A scrape of chair legs follows.

Sam swallows. Hard. He steps to the side.

My gaze lands on a pair of bright green eyes staring back. The guy is male model attractive. My skin warms up in a reflexive response to all that pretty. “You can call me Dean, though.” He smirks.

“Dean?” The name registers instantly. “Sam’s brother?”

He nods and puffs his chest out. I can’t quite tell if it’s a smug posture or if he’s donning some invisible protective armor.

“He-” I start to fill the gaps in my mind as my mouth reveals the facts. “Sam’s mentioned you.” Older brother. Cocky. Pain in the ass. Overbearing.

I don’t get a response in return. Instead, Dean turns to Bobby. “We’ll touch base if we hear anything else.” He rounds the edge of the hospital bed and taps Sam on the arm. All I get is a quick nod from Dean before he disappears.

“See ya.” Sam smiles, lips scrunched tight. He stumbles past me out of the room, following his older, shorter brother.

Yeah, I’ve met my share of guys like that before. Bad boys have never done me any favors. Way more trouble than they’re worth. I keep reminding myself of that as I catch one last glimpse of Dean Winchester in the hallway before Sam shuts the door behind him.

When it’s only the two of us, I hurry over and give the old man a careful embrace. He taps my back in assurance. “I’m fine.”

I peel away and stand to squint at him. “Let me guess? Fine enough to hop back into solving whatever caused this.” I plant my hands on my hips. “Why can’t you fall back asleep? And why does that Dean dude rank as your emergency contact?”

He squints back at me. “The Winchester boys are family, too, L.”

“Sam’s what you’d call an absolute peach, Bobby, I’ll give you that. But, I don’t have any firsthand experience with Dean to make a judgment call.”

“Hm.” Bobby nods slowly. “Could’ve sworn you’ve met both of them.”

“Nope.” I definitely would have remembered Dean Winchester.

~~~~

I knock on the door to Bobby’s room at The Aviary Hotel.

There’s a delay. I can hear some cursing and arguing as I wait. The taller squatter opens the door part way in greeting. “El.” Sam smiles.

“Hi.”

“Everything alright?” A hand stuffs into a pocket and he leans against the door, filling up the space.

“Bobby’s probably getting released tomorrow morning.”

“That’s great news.”

“It is. I figured I’d grab him some clean clothes for his discharge.” I sweep a hand towards him. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, uh…” Sam stammers.

“For chrissakes.” Dean’s voice interrupts. An arm pushes Sam back into the room and out of the way. Dean grimaces at Sam before giving me a dose of all that attitude. “Listen, Elena, it’s great that you’ve decided to come all this way and play nursemaid. But, we’ve got actual case work to do. So, would you make it quick?”

I blink at the condescending tone. Bobby filled me in on the details back at the hospital. I had felt a little sympathy at the predicament Dean has found himself in. HAD. “Oh, of course. Certainly don’t want to interfere with all your great case work. Is there another suspect you need to give a DNA sample to?”

Dean’s irritation crumbles. He looks like a shamed puppy that’s peed on the carpet.

“Don’t mind him, El.” Sam pulls the door all the way open. “We’re all a little high strung at the moment.”

I scoot in between the brothers. The room’s wallpaper is a feathery explosion in blues, greens and yellows. “Well, the decor isn’t going to help calm anyone down,” I critique.

Dean flops in a sad looking armchair and grabs sheets of paper on a nearby side table to study with intense interest.

Hospitality must be Dean Winchester’s middle name.

“Get you something to drink?” Sam strolls by Dean, backhanding Dean’s bicep along the way. Dean pays him no mind.

I wave a hand. “Nope. Just point me in the direction of Bobby’s stuff and I’ll be out of here.”

Sam offers a soft smile in apology and gestures to a set of louvered bifold doors. The room is crazy huge. A full kitchen and another door that must lead to the bathroom make up the other half. There’s a desk on this side of the living area. More papers litter its surface, along with a laptop that I recognize as Sam’s (various stickers are slapped on top).

Yep, the brothers have made themselves at home. The double beds have been slept in by the state of the sheets. I smell greasy fast food.

When I open the closet, Bobby’s entire wardrobe is hung up. I grab the empty duffle from the closet floor. “Was he planning on moving here?” I frown to myself. When I remove the first plaid ensemble from a hanger I spot the case board on the back closet wall. “Ah, of course.” I take my time and fold one shirt with care before packing it. Then another. Taking my sweet time as I take in all the information.

I decide to inquire with the friendlier Winchester. “So, Sam. Bobby told me what happened to him.” I turn to see him sitting at the desk. Dean’s in my field of view in the background as well, still reading. I attempt a poke. “That he was stupid enough to make himself a prime lullaby target of this Frost kid.” Dean’s mouth purses but he doesn’t look over. “Got any ideas yet on how he gets some shut eye without being murdered?”

Sam sighs. “No.”

I want to ask if he’s thought about using his powers while he’s asleep and under the influence of the African Dream Root again. But I don’t know how Dean feels about his brother’s powers. Or, if he even knows for certain. My memory is still hazy and I don’t want to risk outing him or stirring up a touchy subject. Something tells me Dean wouldn’t handle Sam’s powers well if he did know.

“Well, if you need me to try and make contact with someone on the other side, let me know. I mean I haven’t done it in a while, but I can always give Bobby’s friend Pam a call if I need some guid-”

Dean bolts out of his chair. Papers crumple in his tight fist. “We don’t need you to do anything.” The dismissive tone matches the inconsequential way he stares at me. “We don’t need anyone else fucking things up.”

Sam rotates in the seat, arm resting along the chair back. His bewildered and angry expression towards Dean is all I focus on. My cheeks warm at the berating from this stranger with a chip on his shoulder the size of the Grand Canyon.

“From what I hear,” Dean continues, “you are giving the normal life the good ole college try back in Montezuma. I suggest you keep it that way. And get as far away from all this as you can.” His voice cracks at the end. That sound makes me dare to lift my gaze back to him.

He’s trying his best to be an all-knowing asshole. But something’s cracking the veneer. I don’t think he’ll be able to keep it up for much longer. For a moment, I want to march right into this guy’s personal space and slap him. Right before I hug him. But it’s a fleeting inkling. I nod at him. “I’ll get this stuff to Bobby. Sounds like the both of you can handle picking him up at the hospital in the morning.” I inhale and prop up a smile as I turn to Sam. It’s the only way I’ll keep my lips from quivering.

Sam’s brows angle down. “I’m sorry, El.” He whispers.

I shake my head. I can’t speak. If I do, I’ll cry. And I don’t fucking know why my body is reacting like this to the things Dean Winchester said to me.

My heart is racing. I walk with lightning speed to the door.

My brakes are squeaking big time back to Matamoras.

~~~~

Sam’s tired. He should be the one sleeping in the back seat.

He’s the one that’s lived through and remembered hundreds of Tuesdays where Dean died. He didn’t have the blessing(?) of a memory wipe with every morning reset. Now, he panics when he stumbles upon a radio station playing the chorus of Asia’s most well known song. He woke up on so many Tuesdays to “the heat of the moment.” Those words grate like fingernails across a chalkboard every time he hears it. Hearing that music always makes him question for a couple seconds if he’s been dropped back into Groundhog Day Hell.

One Tuesday did have a Wednesday after it. Without Dean.

Sam’s lived six months without Dean already. The Trickster showed him what life would be like without his brother. Sam spent those six months obsessed, determined to find a way to bring Dean back from the dead. He’d convinced the Trickster to snap his fingers and take him back to a Wednesday where Dean lived. Honestly, the Trickster probably got bored of Sam’s sulking and found another puppet’s strings to pull. But, regardless, Sam got his brother back.

He hasn’t bothered to share any of what happened during those six months with Dean (or that one of his deaths actually stuck). Not when they’re trying to prevent Dean from going to hell.

Sam’s need to fix messes could be considered heroic –maybe even to him– if he wasn’t the reason the messes were created.

Sam’s not sure how much one person is expected to withstand. If he and Dean are in some kind of tragedy endurance contest, he’d like to tap out, please, and wave the white flag in surrender. But, then, he thinks about Dean going it alone. When he decides that’s not an option, he straightens up, plants his feet, and braces for the next wave of sorrow to pummel him.

So, yeah, Sam’s tired. But still determined that his brother’s not gonna die. Not anytime soon. Not if he has a say in the matter. Especially when Dean’s no longer resigned to the inevitable of his demon deal coming to fruition.

Sam can push through the exhaustion and fight for Dean’s future because even Dean wants a chance at what’s possible for himself.

Sam saw it with his very own eyes in Dean’s dream. Not the dream Dean’s currently having in the backseat. In between snuffles and snores he’s mumbling nonsense (something about wrenches and spanners). No, what Sam witnessed in Dean’s dream months back proved Dean thinks about a future of what ifs.

The dream had occurred days after he and Dean had managed to wake Bobby from the nightmare coma courtesy of Jeremy Frost. Days after Dean found himself in grave danger of becoming Jeremy’s next victim.

Dean hadn’t slept for days. The threat of never waking up again meant classic rock on full blast in Baby. Gallons of coffee. A concerning amount of No-Doze pills that Dean most definitely wasn’t taking to cram for a college exam.

Bobby had kept himself awake researching with Bela. In between, he spent a lot of time fuming at Dean for the way he’d sent Elina packing. Dean brushed off Bobby's grumpy attitude and reminded him it was best for Elina.

Dean had eventually reached a breaking point, gave his safety a big ole’ “fuck you,” and decided sleep was worth the risk. He’d driven Baby to a clearing off the road, parked her, and leaned back to close his eyes.

Sam harvested some of Dean’s hair right off the scalp, insisting that if Dean was going under he’d need someone to watch his back in the dreamworld.

When they’d both roused from sleep in the Impala nothing had seemed off.

Until Elina popped up in the backseat.

“Finally!” Elina exclaimed.

Sam almost pogoed off the bench at the sound made by a person that most definitely could not be there.

She bopped first Dean’s, then Sam’s, shoulder with a folded up newspaper. “Geez, you two were really knocked out.” Her elbows and arms draped atop the front bench’s backrest. “I was gonna give you five more minutes of beauty sleep. I know you both need it.”

Dean’s eyes widened, staring at her. His lips parted.

Sam dared to interact with the apparition. “El, what are you doing here?”

Her brows furrowed. She nodded in pensive thought. “I ask myself that question every day, Sam. What the hell am I doing with my life, hunting with the likes of you two?” She nudged Dean’s shoulder with an elbow and grinned at him. “Saving people: an absolutely non-existent way to earn a living, am I right?”

Dean nodded back and offered a confused smile. “R-right.”

Elina looked from Dean to Sam then back to Dean. “You okay?”

Dean nodded with increased fervor and turned in his seat to give her his full attention. “Yeah.”

“Better be. I think I found us a case.” She presented the paper to Sam. “Take a look.”

Sam took the offering and gazed at the front page. A jumble of letters littered the paper like a word search puzzle. “What are we looking at?” Sam bluffed.

“A man was found dead in the famous confectionery amusement park in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Police hadn’t released details of the death to the public.” She tapped the spot that appeared to be a headline. “An anonymous source talked to this reporter and said the guy that died had been literally encased in a chocolate mold. You know, like those chocolate bunnies? Only this was a gigantic chocolate dude. Impossible to create anything like that in the on-site factory.”

“Solid Milk Murder,” Dean mumbled. Sam watched his older brother fixate his gaze away on Elina’s face.

“Get this,” Elina continued. “This reporter did more digging into the victim’s life. Six months prior his father had died. Dad had been a supervisor at a candy factory in a Delaware beach town. He’d been pulled to pieces in a taffy stretching machine.” She scooted behind Dean and wrapped her arms around him. Dean stiffened in shock. “Sticky situation,” she mumbled into Dean’s ear and then pecked him on the cheek. Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A small smile lined his lips. When his eyes blinked open and Adam's apple twitched with a swallow, he appeared to relax into the embrace. “I say the Three Amigos see if this is our kind of thing.”

Before Sam or Dean could respond a noise rattled outside of the car. Elina flickered out, gone in an instant. There’d been no time for either of them to discuss what had happened. They quickly exited the car to investigate.

Dean manifested Lisa next. The scene was the perfect slice of Apple Pie Life. A picnic in the park. Lisa had even told Dean she loved him before disappearing.

Things went downhill from there. But, they’d made it out of the dream alive. Jeremy hadn’t, thanks to Sam turning the tables.

Unfortunately, Bela had broken into the safe in the hotel room and stolen the Colt. Bobby left them with a promise to be in touch if he got a lead on her or the gun’s whereabouts. That was the only thing they thought could kill Lilith.

Sam finished packing back at the hotel. A heavy mix of anger and defeat hung in the air. Quietly writing, Dean hunched over the desk in an attempt at privacy while Sam bounced around the room grabbing all their items. Sam spotted names on the envelopes Dean stuffed into his bag when he was done. One read Lisa. The other, Elina.

It wasn’t until they headed out to the car and tossed the bags in the trunk that Dean spoke.

“Hey Sam, I was wondering, when you were in my head what did you see?”

“Uh, just Jeremy, he kept me separated from you. Easier to beat my brains out I guess. What about you? You never said.”

“Nothing. I was looking for you the whole time.”

As easy as it was for Sam to withhold all the dream details, he was pretty certain Dean was doing the same.

The car doors creaked and squeaked. When they settled in the driver and passenger seat, Dean said, “Sam…”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been doing some thinking. And… well, the thing is… I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go to hell.”

“All right, yeah. We’ll find a way to save you.”

“Okay, good.”

Sam’s lived through his own hell since Dean confessed wanting salvation from an eternity of torture. With everything they have been through, they’ve got nothing to show for it. They still aren’t any closer to finding Bela and the Colt and the magic bullet that will put an end to Dean’s demon deal.

The last case in Milan, Ohio and the monster they encountered fed off Dean’s fear of dying. The crocotta had used its powers to mimic their dad’s voice and contact Dean through the phone. The monster, claiming to be John, told Dean he could help him locate the demon that held his contract.

Dean had opened up to Sam after they’d defeated the crocotta back at the motel room.

(Dialogue - in italics - from Ep. Long Distance Call; written by Jeremy Carver)

“I wanted to believe so badly there was a way out of this. I mean, I’m staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell… for real, forever, and I’m just…”

“Yeah.”

“I’m scared, Sam. I’m really scared.”

“I know.”

“I guess I was willing to believe anything – you know, last act of a desperate man.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having hope, you know.”

“Hope doesn’t get you Jack Squat. I can’t expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can’t expect anybody to, you know? And the only person that can get me out of this thing is me.”

“And me.”

“‘And me’?”

“What?”

“Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that’s what you come back with – ‘And me’?”

“Do you want a poem?”

“Moments gone.” Dean turned on the television. “Unbelievable.” He passed Sam a beer and they drank in silence.

They’ve shaked and baked their way through a handful of demons since that case; trying to get any information on the real demon that holds Dean’s contract. But they keep hitting a brick wall. Whatever owns the agreement to Dean’s demise scares the holy hell out of every demon they’ve encountered.

Sam might have a lead on a novel way out of Dean’s contract. It doesn’t involve facing off with the Demon that makes every underling willingly choose an exorcism over betrayal. The solution may be wrapped up in the potential case they’re heading to in Erie, Pennsylvania. Sam knows it will be a hard sell if his hunch is right. But he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

For now, anyway, Sam’s got another trick up his sleeve. He offered to drive from Ohio into Pennsylvania so Dean could get some shut eye. The trek had taken longer because he passed right on by Erie. On purpose.

Sam’s luck ran out about an hour from the destination when Dean stretched and sat up in the backseat.

Sam clocked Dean in the rearview mirror. He checked his watch. Eyes widened. “What the hell? Did you drug me? I’ve been out for like seven hours.”

Sam had thought about knocking his brother out. Thankfully, he didn’t need to resort to that. Yet.

Sam shrugged. “My smooth driving lulled you to sleep.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean chuckled.

Sam’s jaw clenched as he passed a highway distance sign that displayed the city where they were headed.

“Sam.” The mirth in Dean’s voice disappeared. “Sam,” he repeated. “Are you lost? You better be lost.”

Dean has always looked out for Sam. Sam knows, deep down, Dean’s always wanted happiness for him. Sam wants that for Dean, too. If Sam can unload Dean off to someone that might be able to help him get happiness in whatever form - whether it’s the hunting life with Elina or the suburban life with Lisa - why shouldn’t Dean get the chance to try?

“Pull over,” Dean ordered.

Sam shook his head. “Nope.”

“Bitch, what the fuck?”

“Consider this a proactive discussion prior to the demon deal dissolution.”

Dean groaned. His head flopped onto the backrest. “I’m so kicking your ass when you stop this car. And, you’ve gotta stop eventually.”

“It’ll be worth it.” The hesitance in Sam’s voice contradicted the certainty of his words.

Dean was directly behind him now. Sam could feel Dean’s warm breath on the back of his neck as he huffed, “Really?”

Sam swallowed hard. “Yep. We’re gonna find a way to save you, Dean. And, when we do, Elena’s gonna remember all of it.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean murmured.

“Well, if she doesn’t, then Bobby and I will tell her everything that happened.”

Dean slapped him upside the head.

“Jerk! I’m driving!” Sam exclaimed.

“It won’t change anything.” Dean slid to the middle of the back seat. “It won’t change how I feel. She’s better off without me, Sam, and you know it.”

“No, I don’t. And how would she know it when she doesn’t even remember you? You got a shit deal and Elena got dragged in as a free gift with your order.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“I know you didn’t. But, Dean,” –Sam glanced at his brother– “Elena didn’t ask for it either.”

“She’s trying the normal life thing. That’s good. I’d just complicate it all again.”

“You could give the normal life thing a try, too, you know.”

“You aren’t gonna shut up about this are ya?”

“Nope. Come on, no time like the present.” Because there’s literally no time, Sam thought.

~~~~

Ugh. No time!

I rummage through the jewelry box. Again. My gaze darts to the alarm clock on the nightstand. I should have left the apartment five minutes ago if I wanted to appear fashionably late.

The attempt at nonchalance is no longer an option. I will now have to text Gary.

Running later than expected. Wait for me?

Thoughts claw their way up the curtains in my head when I rush like this. I can’t find my grandmother’s rose gold necklace. I know I didn’t lose it. At least I hope not.

Are the blouse and skirt not dressy enough for Bella Notte? I forgot to ask Gary if it’s a formal restaurant. If I send another text it will be obvious I’m obsessing way more than I should. Maybe the outfit is too much? If it is, I probably don’t need the necklace, too. But now that I went searching for it and it’s not where I expected it to be, I have to find it.

My fingers thread through my hair and grip my skull. I’ve gotta calm my ass down.

The phone chirps with news of a Gary response.

Nowhere I gotta be but waiting for a beautiful woman. Just don’t stand me up, alright?

Gary’s flirting. And even through the technical distance of texting this attention increases the beating of my racing heart. I steady my fingers to type.

Of course not.

Screw it. It’s taken almost a year for this first date to happen. I can tear the apartment upside down for the necklace I was going to wear when I return.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the jewelry box mirror. I touch the soft leather cord around my neck. It doesn’t go with the blouse. But I promised Bobby I wouldn’t take the thing off when he gave it to me months ago.

I sigh, thinking about the grouch in the hospital bed. Back then, he asked where the fire was that I needed to get to in such a goddamn hurry. I wasn’t about to tell him I was running away from an avalanche of attitude by the name of Dean Winchester. The passing thought of that guy still bristles my fur. What the hell was his problem?

Bobby ordered me to hand over his duffle I’d brought from the hotel room. It took him a couple minutes to sift through it as he grumbled about my packing job. Eventually, he pulled out a cord with a charm.

“Should have given you one of these years ago, L. They only gotta find a chink in your armor when you’re the most vulnerable. Lost. Without hope.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Demons, knucklehead.” He rubbed the scrap of hair atop his balding skull.

I frowned. “My place is warded to ‘Singer Specifications.’” I air-quoted. “Salt lines get redone on the windows and doors weekly with double-sided tape. I’ve got a spray bottle of holy water on the kitchen counter. You even told me you peeled the upholstery off the roof of my car to paint a Devil’s Trap under it.”

He cleared his throat. “Right, I forgot I did that.” He waves the cord at me. “Overkill? Maybe? But a lot of shit’s been stirred up lately. And there’s an increase in demon activity because of it. Humor an old man. Put it on and promise me you won’t take it off. Ever.”

“Ever?”

He nodded. “Shower with it. Sleep with it. The whole nine yards.”

I’d kept my promise.

But, tonight. Well, tonight, fashion sense beats common as I pull the cord over my head. Before I can drop it into my jewelry box, there’s a knock at my door.

I frown, stuff the cord and charm in my grip, and wonder who’s paying me a visit and how fast I can get rid of them. “Who is it?” I call out.

“Uh, it’s Dean Winchester.” The voice rumbles. “You probably don’t remember me.”

“Oh no,” I mumble and rush to the door. I’m face to face with him after a quick unlock and pull. “What happened?” The question spews out. I hear how frantic I sound.

His eyes widen and punctuate his already shocked expression. “What?”

“Bobby! What happened?”

“Nothing. Bobby’s fine. Back in Sioux Falls, far as I know. Talked to him just yesterday.” He raises a hand to apparently calm me.

The gesture has the opposite effect. From my limited encounters, any reaction from this man reeks of condescension. I lash out with what I think is biting sarcasm. “Good. Hopefully Bobby put me down as his emergency contact like I asked, Mr. Snyderson.”

He confuses me further with a smile.

I shake my head and try not to focus on how cute his smile is. Or how long his lashes are and how that only adds to the flirtatious vibes when his lids flutter over those green eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Sam and I were in the area. On the way to a case.” He rocks back and forth from heel to sole.

I peek past him to the staircase landing. No Sam.

“He’s waiting in the car, outside.” Dean clears his throat. “He figured it was better I do this alone.”

My hand lands on my hip as I try my best cool-and-could-care-less stance. “Do what?”

He sighs. “Apologize.”

I’m staring up at this guy. Not as tall and eclipsing as his brother, but still much taller than me. He’s wearing a leather jacket that’s a little too big for his frame. A fleeting thought has me wondering if it’s Sam’s. But that can’t be right. An older brother doesn’t get his younger brother’s hand-me-downs. There’s hesitation and uncertainty in his eyes. Their gaze flits from side to side. For a moment, he seems smaller.

And sincere.

“I’m on my way out,” I state. Then add, “but you can come in for a minute.”

He tugs a smile up the corner of his mouth and hurries inside. My nose twitches at the odor of stale sweat and something metallic.

“This is a nice little place you got here. Just like I imagined it would be.”

Why the hell had he been imagining what my place looks like?

His hands disappear into his jacket pockets. He strolls into the middle of my apartment.

I close the door. “You mentioned apologizing.” I’ve got places to be, buddy.

Dean turns to stare back at me. He lifts a brow, then steels his jaw. “Yeah.” He rotates on his heels to face me full on. “I was a dick and you didn’t deserve any of my bullshit. I’ve been going through some shit for about a year… not an excuse, I know that. But, I figured an explanation to go along with the apology was in order. Trying to make amends to the people I wronged before I hang up my hunting license.”

“You’re quitting?” For some reason, the confession utterly surprises me. I know nothing about this guy. But, none of that lines up in my brain about him. “Getting out of the life?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He smiles. It’s forced and pinned high on his cheeks. “Got any tips?”

“Tips?”

“Yeah, how’d you do it?”

I shake my head. “Tips should come from someone who’s done it successfully. I can’t say I’ll never get wrapped up in a case again. It’s a work in progress.”

He shrugs. The long jacket sleeve almost swallows his clenched fist at the action. “I don’t know. You’ve got a job. Your own place. Sounds pretty successful to me.” He spins, slow and deliberate, taking in the details of my apartment.

It should feel intrusive. Privacy invading. But, I find myself taking advantage of the opportunity to study his mannerisms. His lids squint, then relax. He licks his top lip. There’s a slight nod to some steady bopping tune that might be playing in his head.

Dean halts and stares at something. He bends over and leans to the side. On his way to the dresser, he crouches with creeping steps. Investigation mode appears to be activated with a graceful squat. A hand sweeps along the wood floor out of my view. He hops up to standing. Something shiny dangles between his fingers.

I float over in adulation at the sight. “Oh wow, you found it!”

He grins and drops it into my open, waiting palm. “Pretty important?”

“A gift from my grandmother.” My gaze darts to the corner behind the dresser where it had been hiding. I connect the dots. “It must have slipped over the side.” I inhale and beam at Dean. “Thank you.”

“Glad I could help.”

I drop the anti-possession charm on the dresser and use both hands to put on Grandma’s rose gold necklace.

Dean points to the leather cord. “Don’t forget that.”

I shake my head. “Doesn’t go.”

The judgment in his eyes wipes away any mirth on his face. “Bobby gave you that, didn’t he? He’d be awfully disappointed to know you weren’t taking precautions. ‘Out of the life’ doesn’t mean you slack off on being careful.” He scoops up the cord and unties the knot. A nod precedes his order. “Hold your arm out.”

I’ve obeyed before I realize it. He wraps the cord around my wrist a few times, turning it into a bracelet. Warm fingers fumble against my skin to fasten the leather. They slide up my forearm just enough to tuck the charm under my cuffed sleeve. “There,” he states. “Don’t have to worry about clashing or demons tonight.”

I’m about to thank him again when his eyes do a double-take in the direction of my dresser. He stares in surprise. “You-uh-you collect a lot of cat figurines, huh?”

I huff out a laugh and joke, “Yeah, I’m easing into the crazy cat lady role.”

He picks one up from the dozen miniature cats without asking.

I smile at the little angel in his hand. “That’s my favorite one.”

Dean raises a brow. “Another gift?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Best guess is the people that rented the apartment before me forgot it in the dresser they left behind. I found it in the bottom of a drawer under my clothes one day.”

“Oh.” He nods. “Why’s it your favorite?”

“I don’t know. Just makes me smile.”

“Hmm.” There’s a far away expression on his face.

I suddenly remember I am now very, very late for a date. “Well, Dean, I appreciate you coming by to apologize. No hard feelings. I hope things work out for you. Really.”

Dean relocates the angel with care. He straightens and gains a couple of inches. “I can use all the hope I can get.”

I nod along with him for what seems like forever.

“Riiight.” He stretches the word. “Have a nice night.”

I trail him to the door. “Tell Sam I said hi?”

He turns and looks at me. “Will do.” A hitch of breath follows. I wait for him to say whatever it is he seems to be mulling over. He offers me a soft smile. “Goodbye, Elina.”

The door opens and closes in a second and he’s gone. I’ve been surprisingly affected again by one Dean Winchester. And even though the apology should make me feel better, I somehow find myself worrying about the mysterious and aloof hunter.

I sigh and choose not to dwell on it if I can help it. After all, I’ve got a date!

I rush to the bathroom one more time.

~~~~

Gary’s lips are insistent. Not super rough. His hands curl about my waist. The door handle by the passenger seat presses into my lower back.

The front seat of my VW bug isn’t very roomy. But, here we are, parked at the Staircase Rapids Canoe and Kayak Launch along the Delaware River. The deserted pull off and the moonlight dancing over the water make for a decent and impromptu makeout location.

Dinner was nice enough. I thought my Fettuccine Alfredo was a little runny. But I kept those thoughts to myself.

Gary was a nice enough dinner companion – from the crusty Italian bread with the dipping oil to the Tiramisu we shared. After months of building Gary up in my head, I thought I’d only find more of him to be starry eyed about. Once we could finally talk uninterrupted, the only new thing I’ve found out is he’s very good at deflecting. He offered up short and stubby answers to most of my questions.

I assumed a cool disinterest had crept up in him by the end of the night. He didn’t ask anything very personal. There was nothing deep and probing. Well, except for his tongue currently in my mouth.

As I rate his kissing technique (there’s too much swirl and suction for my liking) I’m also wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Why am I not able to let go and enjoy the closeness and warmth of this other person? It’s been way too long since I’ve experienced this kind of touch. I don’t need to calculate how long. My inner scorekeeper quickly reminds me. It’s been almost two years since my one night stand in Wildwood, New Jersey.

I’m swimming in a haze of too much wine mixed with indecisiveness. His fingers skirt under the hem of my blouse and test the waters. When do I tell him that’s enough? Do I let him cop a feel over my bra? Despite his insistence to pay for my dinner, I slipped my credit card to the waitress so we could split the cost. I didn’t want to owe him anything.

I’ve done more for less attention and regretted it later. I shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t beat myself up for craving touch and fulfilling a basic human need.

It would be easy if I didn’t want more. And I’m realizing with every slip and slurp of Gary’s mouth that there isn’t going to be anything more than this. Whatever happens.

He whispers in my ear that I look incredibly hot tonight. I should gasp a thank you or toss him a complementary compliment. Instead, I’m reminding myself how expendable and forgettable I am. I’m tallying up how many people I expected to stick around –who displayed a modicum of care and interest– actually did.

Gary has been, well, nice enough. I recall how he offered to look at my brakes months back. Fixed them for me at cost at the garage where he moonlights.

All the chance encounters with this man have been thrilling and invigorating. After tonight, they could be embarrassing and stomach upsetting.

Cause this doesn’t feel right.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I finally get what I think I want… and… it’s not.

“Whatsa matter, baby?” he mumbles the question into my mouth.

I snatch at the opportunity presented. My hand rests atop his chest to push him away. I am done inhaling the red wine and cocoa on his breath. “I-I think it’s getting late.” His offer to drive me home in my car, after I had too much wine, is now an obvious problem. I scramble to sound invested in his well being. “You don’t want to call Jason too late for that drive back to the restaurant to pick up your truck, do you?”

“Sweet of you to worry, but I’m a big boy.” He combs some of my hair behind my ear. “You aren’t having a good time?”

“No,” I hurry out my answer. Gary’s figure is awash in the ashy gray of evening. His face, half in pitch black shadow, gives me little to read. The whites of his eyes are the only thing I can make out well. He blinks in wait. I continue. “I had a great time. But, it’s getting late.”

“We could have an even better time if you’d relax.” His thin lips curl up high into a smirk. Hands overpower with ease and clamp over my wrists. A push and I’m smothered between his chest and the door. He grapples my arms tight against my sides. His mouth latches onto my neck. “Isn’t this what you’ve been wanting?” His question vibrates under my skin.

My heart beats for release. “Gary, please…”

“Hm, begging for it already.” He chuckles.

“No.” I squirm. I shake my head, lift my shoulder in vain to detach his lips from me. “Take me home, please.”

He groans out an exasperated sigh. His bangs sweep over my lips. “For fuck’s sake. We could’ve had a good time tonight, El.” His teeth click. He launches backward into the driver’s seat.

I sit up and wedge farther into the little corner between the door and the seat. Where the hell can I run where he won’t catch me right away? There isn’t anything for five miles in either direction on this stretch of road heading back to Matamoras from Pond Eddy. I massage the skin of one wrist. Maybe I can convince him to drive me home? Promise to continue the fun at my apartment? I could hop out of the car and run to the 24-hour Smoke Shop a block away.

When I switch to the other wrist I notice something’s missing.

Gary starts the engine. The dashboard illuminates and winks to life. He taps on the overhead light. My leather cord dangles from the tips of his fingers. He eyes the charm swaying back and forth. His lips peel back and display pearly whites. “Fuckin’ piece of shit,” he hisses. Under the engine hum a whirr accompanies the opening of the driver’s side window. With a quick slingshot, my necklace disappears into the darkness outside.

“What the hell are you doing?” I’m surprised at my ability to sound angry.

“What did Dean have to say when he stopped by earlier?” Gary asks and turns to look at me. I can see every inch of his face now but he’s not any easier to read.

Oh. Shit.

I grab the door handle.

But I’m not faster than Gary.

He cups the back of my head and slams my forehead into the curved outcrop of the dash. A shock of whiplash shuffles the contents of my skull. It’s followed by a ringing in my ears. Fingers weave into my hair and tug me to sit upright, tipping my head back like a Pez dispenser. I scream at the corkscrew twisting of his hand. Hundreds of strands yank out of my scalp.

“The Winchesters.” Gary is calm and stone faced. He’s in my personal space, staring down at me. “Where are they headed?”

“I-I don’t know.” Balance upended, I’m woozy and confused. “How-, why-”

“Those two are stupid enough to get themselves killed if they aren’t careful, El. Help ‘em out. Tell me where they are going.”

“I t-t-told you. I don’t kn-”

I hear a crack, then realize it was the side of my head getting slammed into the car window. A dull, heavy pulse bangs against the kettle drum that is my brain.

“We gotta do it the hard way, huh?”

I slump against the glass and close my eyes. The surface is cool, slippery. Despite the pain radiating throughout my body, I could fall asleep.

Gears shift. The car judders forward in that familiar way when I give it a little too much gas. Then, it slows to a crawl.

“We’ve got a pool going, seeing how boring as hell it’s been topside lately. Pun intended, by the way.” Gary hums a little to the pop tune blaring from the radio. “Who’s Dean gonna run to before his deal comes due?” He announces the question like a game show host. “I had my money on you. Always thought you had an advantage over Lisa. I mean, yeah, there’s Ben. That meat stick has a soft spot for kids. But, you, I mean come on, you were in the life. You know what it’s like. You get him. Well, when you remember him.” Gary snorts. “You saved him for fuck’s sake!”

I force my lids open. Something sticky’s blurring the vision of my right eye. The headlights are creeping over a dirt path. Gary taps the steering wheel to the song’s beat.

“Wha- talkin’ ‘bout?” I murmur.

“You pulled out in the lead at the last minute. Spray a little scrubbing bubbles in there” – he presses a finger to my temple – “and I’ll get what I need, get out of this ass backwards town and onto bigger and better things. A promotion from Lilith. Maybe visit New York City. Get up to some trouble.” Gary turns to grin at me. I’m seeing double, his figure swimming in and out of focus.

His eyes turn totally black.

I shake my head. The pounding only increases.

A demon. There’s a fucking demon driving my car.

“Gotta say I’m a little disappointed.” Gary slams the brake pedal hard. My body flails back into the seat. I groan as Gary continues talking, shifting into park while the engine runs. “Thought we could have some real fun before getting down to the doldrums of business. This wasn’t the way Gary wanted to end up inside you, either.”

I gotta get out of here. I reach for one of the door handles but I only fist at air. Beyond the car hood, I can only make out a sliver of the dirt path awash in high beams. Ripples of water, the color of black volcanic glass, sway and meet the edge of the earth.

Sudden and abrupt, Gary’s palms cradle my head. A kaleidoscope of black-eyed masks circle in my vision. “Open wide so I can have a peek, baby.” His jaw unhinges. Smoke expels from between his lips. Onyx clouds hang in the air. Terror bubbles up and a pitiful yelp leaves me. His gaping hole of a mouth turns up at the corners in a sinister cheshire cat grin.

The smoke appears sentient, swirling its form into a thread with a needle-like point heading right toward my mouth. Then, I feel the invasion. The alien gas slides down my throat. It violates and expands throughout my lungs and inflates in dominance. It’s rough, uncaring, pawing under my skin for control. My vision is gone, a complete blackout. I can’t stop blinking in hopes I will see something, anything. I gasp somewhere, far away, for breath.

“There we go, baby.” It’s my voice, but I’m not saying the words. I’ve been amputated from the body I’m stuck inside. The prisoner part of me rattles around in my brain, beating against my skull. “It’ll be better if you don’t fight.”

My sight returns but it’s distorted. I’m peeking through a fisheye lens. My hand adjusts the rear view mirror - without any directive that’s mine - so I can stare at my reflection. Half of my face is smeared in blood. My blood. My fingers push matted hair off my forehead and cheek. My eyes leer at my own visage, lascivious and coveting. My tongue peeks out to lick the blood dripping from my nose.

“Oh, we’re gonna be able to get so much more done with this body.” Incorporeal fingers flip through my memory. “Hm. You weren’t lying. You don’t know where they went.”

“Elina?” A hoarse voice mumbles out of Gary’s body slumped in the driver’s seat.

“All those naughty thoughts.” My voice holds a condescending, judgy tone, as I stare at Gary. “Maybe if you’d paid more attention to taking care of that sickly aunt you wouldn’t be in this mess, Gar.” One of my hands feels its way up Gary’s shirt and under his suit jacket. It finds something cool and hard inside the breast pocket. My other hand unceremoniously pulls the clear bud vase from the mount it resides in near the steering wheel. “Lilith appreciates your service.”

Gary stares at the folded hunting knife in my hand. A firm wrist whip releases the blade from the confines. He scrambles to sit up in the seat. “What-what are you-”

Gary doesn’t get to finish his sentence. I’m screaming in the cage of my brain. My hand slashes at his throat, plunging deep into the flesh and meeting the resistance of bone. My wrist twists. My other hand places the bud vase near the gaping wound. Blood gurgles and spurts into the receptacle as Gary’s head flops to the side.

I can’t stop screaming.

“Hopefully that’s enough.”

My voice quips out some lines of Latin as my eyes stare hard at the tiny vase.

“Fuck. Well, guess that killing two birds with one stone saying doesn’t apply here. Not enough juice.” My hand tosses the vase into the back of the car. “We’ll just give Sam a ring and find out where he and Dean are. Find another warm body to make another call. Then we’ll update Lilith on our progress.” I see my lips scrunch up in the mirror’s reflection. “Gary’s gonna have to go for a swim.” My body expels an exasperated sigh.

I can’t stop screaming.

“Shut the fuck up. Or when we track Dean and Sam down, I’ll cut their tongues out and feed them to you.”

I gasp, stunned and muted by the threat.

“That’s better. Now where’s that cell phone of yours.”

Dropping the knife, my hand searches the footwell by my heels. The demon will secure my purse in moments.

Dean’s face flashes in my memory. I can use all the hope I can get.

“You get him. Well, when you remember him. You saved him for fuck’s sake!” Gary’s voice - the demon’s words - replay in my head.

Demons lie.

But I remember Sam. Sam doesn’t deserve whatever this demon has in store for him. And, deep down, I’m pretty sure Dean doesn’t deserve it either.

From the periphery of my sight, I see blood seeping out of Gary’s fatal wound. The wound my hands created.

Demons kill.

The demon won’t hesitate to do this again to someone else.

Unless I fight back.

“You can’t fight me.” My voice sing songs. “You don’t get out of this until I say.”

I remember Sam. Sam was able to do things he hadn’t thought possible when something was important enough to try and save.

“I told you to shut up.”

I realize how similar my voice sounds to my sister’s when she used to tease and scold me.

I hated that.

The engine idles, a background hum to all of the crazy.

My hand flips my phone open and begins to tap through my contacts.

I won’t be used to hurt another person. Anger boils and the body I’m in heats up around me. My thoughts zone in on how the gear shift would feel in my hand. How I’d press on the brake while I switch from Park to Drive.

The pedal bears down and the gear shift clicks to R, N, then D.

“What the–?”

I imagine my foot lifting off the brake and slamming the gas.

The car hiccups forward, almost rearing up on its wheels like a horse being whipped. It’s only a few seconds and then it’s bobbing as if it’s been fitted with hydraulics. Gary’s lifeless body bounces in the driver’s seat.

“You psycho bitch!” My voice screams. “Your funeral, not mine!” I feel my jaw open wide, stretching muscles and tendons to their limits.

The lights flicker out in the car. I focus on the sound of water lapping against the exterior. Whatever is going to happen next, I hope it’s quick.

“What the hell?!?” My voice roars in the dark. “What did you do?!? Why am I stuck?!?” My head whips side to side with a feral intensity.

I imagine chuckling like a victorious villain. The Devil’s Trap on the ceiling. Bobby came through for me. Again. Even as my body shivers at the cold water surrounding my feet, I know I can do one last thing to make the man proud. After all, I aced my Latin class in college.

I thread the words of the exorcism together, echoing in my brain.

“No! Stop!”

My body is betraying me again, either because of the demon or because I might be weakening its hold and control over my flesh. I’m fading. Lids too heavy to keep open.

Glass breaks behind me and water rushes in. The ice cold shocks my heart. Hands wrap around my waist and tug. I’m pulled through the water. This must be what dying feels like.

I break through the water’s surface. “El!” A hand wraps around my waist. A body tangles around mine in the river and drags me somewhere.

Pairs of hands hold me down on hard ground.

“Fuck! Sam!”

The Latin chant spills from a familiar voice, fast and furious.

Sam.

The force of water and smoke expelling from my throat jolts me awake. My eyes flicker open.

I see them.

Sam and Dean stare down at me. A heavy full moon hangs in the sky behind them.

“Hold on, El!”

Dean.

I can’t, though.

~~~~

I wake up screaming.

Sam and Dean are gone.

No moon. No night.

I’m in a room. Yellow fluorescent light.

My heart races. Something beeps.

I stare at a drop ceiling.

“El!”

Pamela. Pamela’s here. I gasp for air.

“It’s alright, darlin’.” Her hand soothes a warm trail up and down my arm.

I slowly realize “here” is a hospital room. I am in a bed, sensors taped to skin and needles tapped into veins.

“Aw, sweetie. Everyone’s gonna be so happy to know you’re awake. Doctor’s gonna want to check you out and talk to you.” She sighs. “Unfortunately, so are the police.”

My mind swims with newfound knowledge. “Dean.” I croak out. “Where’s Dean?” I turn to see her watercolor blue eyes inspect me. The usual troublemaker grin is nowhere to be found.

She pats my hand. “Later, sweetie. Listen to me now.”

“Pamela…”

“Do you remember what happened to you? In the car?” She strokes the hair atop my head. “Do you remember what that thing did to you? Do you remember what it made you do to Gary?”

The knife in Gary’s throat. The blood. I nod. The tears flow.

Pamela nods back. “That’s what the police want to talk to you about,” she whispers. “But, if you claim it was self-defense-that he was gonna hurt you-trust me, it’ll be an easy sell. Those two lawyers you work for, Mitch and Ryan?” I nod as she continues. “They’ve been by to check on you and keep me informed of the investigation. Gary’s Aunt Cheryl’s been rotting away in the basement of her house for months. Gary” –her voice even lower– “that thing joyriding him, it had you in its sights all that time, just waiting for the right moment, like a goddamn serial killer. Cops found photos of you all over the house and satanic” –she air quotes– “stuff in his room.”

My head spins. “Why? Why was it after Sam and Dean?”

A nurse pops in. Her face lights up. “Oh. How’s the patient?”

Pamela smiles and grips my wrist. “Sis just woke up.”

The nurse beelines to the side of my bed and checks the IV drip. Her gaze skirts over me and then at the monitor. “Dr. Wallace is making the rounds.” She clears her throat. “We’ve been given specific instructions to notify the police department as soon as…”

Pamela waves a hand, “Just do whatever you gotta do so we can get her out of here as soon as she’s able. Please.”

The nurse nods and zips out of the room.

“Sis?” I notice a dull throb from my forehead extends to the right side of my head. Oh, yeah, my skull met the dashboard and a window. The painkillers are obviously holding back a torrent of pain.

“Bobby needed one of your relatives to watch over you while he…” Pamela trails off.

“He’s with them, isn’t he? Sam and Dean?”

“What do you remember?”

It’s all a jumble. Memories and thoughts can’t reconcile themselves. “I remember knowing Dean, and then… not. And then, knowing him again.”

Her fingers rub circles atop my hand. “I don’t know all the details. Bobby’s a vault when he swears to secrecy. But, the long and short of it… this Dean Winchester made some kind of demon deal almost a year ago.”

I close my eyes. All I hear in my head is Dean.

I don’t like any of this, though, not one bit. I can’t keep literally dragging you into my shit.

Whatever this connection is, it’s obvious we don’t have any control over it. And that can go real bad, real quick.

You’re special. And I want you to stay that way.

“Oh, Dean,” I whisper. “What did you do?”

“Hey.” Pamela gives me a soft nudge. “This Dean sounds like a ton more trouble than he’s worth. You need to worry more about yourself right now, those police that are going to be by, and getting better. Bobby’s orders.”

~~~~

I was in the hospital for two more days under observation because of the head trauma I sustained. Once they ran me back and forth for numerous tests I finally got discharged with orders to rest.

I’ve been on lockdown for three weeks. I’ve also got security detail.

Not from the cops, mind you. I was convincing enough with my story. They bought that what I did to Gary was in self-defense. It wasn’t like I had to embellish much, just selectively omit some details. The demon had left a trail of crazy and murder that only supported my innocence.

No, I’m on lockdown with Pamela. And Garth, my security detail, has been ordered by Bobby to act as a sentinel outside my building. When he’s not in his car by the entrance during the day, he’s tucked into a sleeping bag by the threshold of my door at night. Pamela sleeps on the couch. I am within eyesight of either one of them in my twin bed. No one could ever claim this studio apartment is spacious.

It’s not so much about who might be coming after me, I suspect, as much as where I might run off to. Bobby called Pamela often. There’d been discussions, of which I’d not been allowed input, that maybe I should be moved. But the logistics and the where couldn’t be agreed. I couldn’t be taken to Sioux Falls. That meant Sam and Dean were there.

Garth had to get on the phone one night and offer, “Geez, Bobby. Law enforcement here is so on edge even the wind changing direction gets the third degree. No way anyone new or somethin’ out of the ordinary gets by them for quite a while. This is probably the safest place for El to be right now.”

That seemed to be good enough for Bobby, finally. Not for me. All I want are answers from Dean about why he thought wiping my memory of him was a great idea. More importantly, all I want to do is help him. Nothing involving a demon is good, I’m living proof. And anything involving a deal with a demon is a thousand times worse.

Pamela went out for food and supplies one morning while “cousin” Garth and I had a late Saturday breakfast. It was the first time we’d been by ourselves.

“You never met Sam and Dean Winchester?” I ask and slurp the sweet sugared milk from my cereal bowl.

“Nope.” Garth helps himself to another serving of the copycat Froot Loops.

I sit up and eye him as he digs in. “So, it was Bobby, then, that had you destroy my phone?”

He gasps, then coughs, mouth full of cereal. A little milk dribbles out of his nose. The features on his cue ball of a head scrunch in towards the center at his discomfort. “What?”

“Come on, Garth. Be honest with me.”

He wipes the mess off his face. “Alright, fine. Yes, Bobby had me do it.” He raises a hand. “And before you ask, I swear I don’t know why. He just told me you needed to be kept out of harm’s way and getting rid of your phone would help with that. So, I did.”

“I know why,” I mumble. “Erase any trace of Dean. It was probably Dean’s idea and Bobby just had you execute it.” I stand, itchy with irritation, and head over to the sink to deposit my cereal bowl. “Doesn’t it piss you off? The way Bobby doles out orders and we’re supposed to follow them without question?”

Garth blows his nose, I’m guessing to clear it of any residual milk. He flares his nostrils and does a little head shake. “Way I see it, Bobby’s survived this long on more than a little luck and a lot of praying. Like it or not, he’s usually right.” Garth looks up at me from his seat. His face wrinkles up into a thoughtful expression. “Bobby did tell me you got pretty close to those Winchesters. The Dean fella, in particular.”

I cross my arms, lean against the tiny bit of counter space that makes up my kitchenette. “I thought so.” I sweep my socked foot along the linoleum floor. My gaze lands on the cat figurine collection across the room on the dresser.

“Thought?”

I zone in on the cat angel. The one Dean got me. The one he picked up when he was here and trying to apologize when I didn’t remember everything. “Being close to someone means having faith in them. That’s how it goes for me anyway.”

“Faith is hard to come by for some people.” Garth shrugs. “You and I are close but it wasn’t always like that. I had to earn it. Look me in the eyes and say you have faith in everything I do with a straight face.” He raises his eyebrows.

I feel my mouth quirk up into a grin. “Fair enough,” I chuckle.

There’s a tell tale knock at the door. It’s the secret knock and I start for the door. But Garth raises a finger and sprints over before me.

Pamela breezes in with a couple bags. “Alright, I think I got everything on the list.” She drops them on the table and pulls out a newspaper for Garth.

“Thanks, Pammy. Gotta catch up on what Marmaduke’s up to.”

She smiles softly at him, then hands me a pile of envelopes. “Grabbed your mail.”

“Thanks, Pammy.” I parrot Garth.

I don’t get the same sweet smile at the use of the nickname. “I’m makin’ rice and beans tonight. Not up for discussion.”

“Hmmm.” Garth rubs his non-existent tummy and wades through the newspaper.

The two of them chatter. I walk to the couch and flop on it, flipping through the mail. Bill. Bill. Junk. But then there’s an envelope with my name and address handwritten on it. The print is haphazard and hurried. It’s postmarked from Sioux Falls from about a week ago. And in the top left corner are two letters.

D.W.

I purse my lips to hold in a gasp. Once I compose myself I announce, “Anyone gotta use the bathroom before I take a shower?”

“Nope,” Pamela states.

“I am A OK,” Garth replies. “Pammy, you like Garfield?”

I pull some clean clothes out of the dresser and dash into the bathroom while they discuss the merits of Odie.

It’s the only place I can get any privacy. I sit on the toilet, my change of clothes a heap in my lap, and Dean’s letter in my hands.

My entire body shivers. I inhale deep and slow to try and calm down, but it’s not helping. A finger inches under the flap and rips open the envelope. I unfold three pieces of paper that were inside. The first one is on stationery from The Aviary Hotel.There’s a crease etched in the middle, top to bottom, and a few left to right; it’s been folded into a smaller square at some point in the past.

The writing is tight and neat. Different from the one on the envelope.

I’m not gonna apologize for how I acted today, El. What would be the point, anyway? You wouldn’t understand why I had to. Take my advice and stay as far away from Sam and me as possible. –Dean

Short and not very sweet. But, I think back to the altercation I had with Dean in the hotel room with the loudest wallpaper I’d ever seen. It was when I didn’t remember, months back. Bobby had been in the hospital. I shake my head, even now, at how obnoxious Dean had been.

The fucker was doing everything in his power to make sure I wasn’t gonna give a shit about him. But why? Why the memory wipe? I tuck the page behind the others.

The next page is on very familiar stationery. I gave it to Bobby as a cheeky little gift one Christmas. He never uses it, but I know where he stashes it - in the right side drawer of the desk in his library.

Dean found that stationery and probably sat at that very desk to write what I’m now reading. The page has crinkles in it, like it was balled up and thrown out.

I let out a chuckle in nervous hiccups at Dean’s scribble right under the fancy font.

A bunch of BS from the desk of B.S. Ain’t that the truth!!! El, Bobby told me you remember everything. His friend Pamela told him that you’ve been asking about me. I don’t know why your memories came back. The deal’s not up yet. I’m glad you’re gonna get to go home soon. I’m so sorry you got caught in the middle of all of this ,. princess I always just wanted you safe. As much as I wish things could be different, nothing good comes from being around me. It kills me you had to find out the hard way with the demon riding that guy. All those times you saved me and didn’t give up on me, it kills me I’ll never be able to repay you proper. I’m glad you remember me now. Truth is, I didn’t think you ever would again. It hurt to have to push you away all this time. To not reach out and tell you about the stupid thing I did when I was crazy in my head over losing Sam. He died, El. About a year ago.

I stop reading. Drop the papers in my lap. I recall the very healthy looking Sam I saw months back. And the one who helped rescue me only weeks ago.

I traded my soul to bring him back. But the crossroads demon only gave me a year before my bill came due.

My heart beat increases, pounds in my head. Dean’s words trigger the pain from the assault, a deep ache in my bones. My skin prickles with anger.

Sam died a year ago and Dean’s deal was for a year.

No, Dean. No.

The bitch thought it’d be cute to wipe your memory of every little bit of me as part of the agreement. You gotta believe me, El, that’s not what I wanted. I may have thought it was better you’d never met me. But I never would have traded losing you for Sam. Me, that’s a no-brainer.

I turn the page over and continue to read Dean’s words through my blurry vision. The other pages scatter onto the tile floor.

I want It just twisted the knife, having you look at me like I was a stranger. Having to tear into you hurt so fucking much. But it was all I could do to drive that urge to help out of you. You were a great hunting partner. One of the best. It’s selfish of me and dangerous for you, but I’ve thought about what it would be like having you hunt with Sam and me again. Like a team. And it feels right. I think that life, if the apple pie life was never in the cards for me, that would have been nice.

But my time is almost up, so I’m gonna try to hold on to what might have been, wherever I’m going. I just want to tell you that I love need you to stay safe, alright. I need you to be okay when all this is over. And, I need you to be there for Sam. And maybe, maybe he can be there for you, when you want to remember me. Cause I’ll never forget you, Suds. -Dean

Both hands cover my mouth. I stifle the sobs. It’s not helping and I’m only getting louder. Pamela or Garth will knock on the door soon. I lean to the left and twist the faucet knob. A spurt of water shoots out. A steady stream soon follows.

I wish he’d tried to tell me. That night when he was here. I would have thought he was crazy. But, still, I might have told him to have Sam come up and confirm. I might have called Bobby. I might never have gone to meet Gary.

I could have been with them all this time. Trying anything and everything to help. I grab the page again and look at that word he’s crossed out. Love. He could have written anything after that. He could have just wanted to remind me that he loves pie.

But somehow, I think not.

More tears come.

I flip the lever so water cascades out of the showerhead. I wipe my soggy eyes with the back of my hand and gather up the other dropped pages.

The last page wasn’t written by Dean. The print is large and loopy. Sam.

Dean tossed both these letters out today. The first one he’d been carrying around in his bag for months in an envelope with your name on it. I saw him dump it in Bobby’s office along with the second note. I wanted to give you the chance to read them now, in case there’s time for you to reach out before we track down Lilith. Maybe give him a reason to keep fighting, El. Cause he’s tired of hearing me. He’s trying to hold on but the closer he gets to the clock running out… I can’t lose him, either. Sam.

I leave all the pages atop the sink. My gaze lingers on the phone number Sam wrote at the bottom of the note. It’s gotta be Dean’s. My brain and body go on autopilot. I cry as I shower, towel off, and then dress into my second set of pajamas for the day.

By the time I exit the bathroom, Garth is gone, and Pamela waits for me on the couch. She’s the best big sister I could ask for in that moment, opening her arms for me to collapse into and cry some more. She waits until I’m ready to tell her everything. When I’m done, she tucks my damp hair behind my ears and gives me a nod for courage.

“You do what you got to do, sweetie. I’ll be out in the hall. When you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”

I know he won’t pick up. And, I don’t know what I’m gonna leave on his voicemail. I stand up and walk over to the dresser. I place Sam’s note on top of it, by my cat figurine collection, and punch in the numbers. The ringing begins and I stare at the little cat angel, readying to say anything after Dean’s greeting.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell so you must know what to do.”

“Hi.” My voice eeks out, a whispery rasp. I clear my throat. “Dean. It’s me. El. I-I just wanted to tell you that I’m-I’m pissed. I’m pissed that you didn’t hang around at the hospital and wait for me to wake up. Cause, ah, I-I did think of a tip for you.” The lump in my throat makes my breath hitch. “Don’t quit the life. Not yet. And don’t wait so damn long to kiss me the next time you see me, Winchester. I’ll, I’ll be waiting.”

I circle my finger along the halo of the little kitty.

~~~~

I don’t sleep that night. I wait for his call. When my phone finally rings, it’s a little after two in the morning.

But the name on the screen is Bobby. He hasn’t called me direct since I’ve been out of the hospital.

I answer but don’t say anything. Just wait for the old man’s voice.

“I’m sorry, L. He’s-he’s gone.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #dean x ofc #angst #whump

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