#puts her in a pringles can and gently shakes her around | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 10 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: omg HIIIIII hihihihihi i’m SO SORRY for the update gap fam, i started back at work and have been crAzy busy ever since! however i tried to make this chapter one that was worth the wait…….insert one thousand eye emojis if ya know what i mean. hope u enjoy!

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

20th November 2020

Vanessa is giggling as Akeria sits with an enormous plastic bag of snacks in front of her on the hard plastic train table. She’s looking at them with the long-suffering eyes of a wearied mother, casting her hands over them as if she doesn’t quite know where to start. She finally picks up a bag of chocolate buttons, stands up in her seat and yells out into the train carriage.

“Okay, whose are the buttons?”

“Oh! Those are ours. Thanks, Kiki,” Jan stands up from the two-seater she’s got beside Jackie and behind Vanessa and Brooke, leaning forward over them to grab the snacks.

“Strawberry laces?”

“Mine!” Crystal cries happily, leaning over Gigi from the table seat they’re sharing with Jaida and Yvie opposite them. She snatches the sweets out of Akeria’s hand and follows it up with a thank you.

“Barbecue Pringles- wait, that’s Yvie’s,” Akeria immediately cuts herself off, leaning over the aisle of the carriage and handing Yvie the tube.

“I’m nothing if not predictable,” she shrugs, ripping off the plastic covering and the paper on top to grab a crisp and then offer one to her dance partner.

“Tangfastics?” Akeria yells out. There’s a pause where nobody claims them. Akeria gives a long-suffering roll of her eyes and yells a little louder. “Tangfastics?!”

Vanessa watches Monique give a jolt in the two-seater she’s sharing with Monet. “Shit, sorry Keeks, that’s ours!”

(Vanessa suspects that Monique’s delay in hearing her snack might be because of the way Monet’s got her hand resting on her thigh and had been whispering something to her moments before, but she’ll park that for now, use it to make fun of her at a later date.)

“God damn, stop gazin’ in Monet’s eyes for two whole seconds,” Akeria teases her, to a hoot of laughter from the other girls and a glare from Monique herself.

“Can’t help it that they’re so dark and intoxicating,” Monet pipes up with a dramatic gesture. Asia yells at her to shut up from over her headrest. A little further down the carriage, Vanessa can see a businessman shaking his head in despair.

“Gigi, that’s your fruit platter,” Akeria hands the tub across the aisle, already able to tell the model’s choice of snack. Vanessa silently takes the bags of Starbursts and chilli heatwave Doritos that she’d asked Akeria to pick up for her and Brooke respectively. “Whose are the Haribos?”

There’s another silence. Vanessa has to hold in her laughter at Akeria’s growing frustration. “Girls, I swear to Jesus, y’all cannot send me to the shop to grab all your motherfuckin’ snacks and then not claim ‘em! Who ordered the goddamn Haribos?!”

Asia blinks suddenly, looks up from her phone and tugs Akeria’s sleeve. “Bitch! Those are ours, we got them! Sit your dumb ass down!”

The girls all roar with laughter as Akeria sheepishly sinks back into her seat. Vanessa can’t help but give a little bounce in her seat from excitement because they’ve made it; she’s off to Blackpool with a girl that likes her back, her two best friends, and the rest of the dorks they’re sharing the competition with. They’ve got a Cha Cha Cha this week which they’ve practised, polished and perfected, and Vanessa can feel a little bite of excitement to the cold air which makes her think maybe…maybe this week it’s their time to get a few more tens and perhaps be top of the leaderboard this week. She’s confident, and she knows Brooke is too. They chatted through their thoughts about the week ahead when Vanessa walked Brooke to the tube station the night before, and her heart still gives a little excitable thud when Vanessa remembers the way they’d stolen a kiss in the dark just beside the entrance.

Whatever it is they are feels like one of the fairytales Vanessa used to watch when she was little on VHS tape, the ones she used to rewind the moment they were done to go all the way back to the start. She and Brooke are still focused on the competition obviously, so for now they’re still content with stealing kisses behind the scenes of It Takes Two, going for dates that aren’t really dates and are more mid-rehearsal lunches, long and lingering goodbye cuddles where Vanessa rests her head against Brooke’s chest and wishes she was going home with her instead of to her own empty flat. It’s nameless and exciting and a bit of a foray into the unknown, only Vanessa knows it’s not really so much of an unknown because she trusts Brooke, she knows she likes her back and how much she’s devoted to her. It’s the way Brooke nuzzles against Vanessa’s hair and mutters a compliment about how talented she is, or the way she’ll stop mid-kiss to just murmur about how beautiful Vanessa is against her lips, or the way she links their pinkies together midway through a rehearsal break and shyly comment on how lucky she is. It all makes Vanessa’s heart feel huge and light and fast in her chest, a helium balloon filled with butterflies.

“Guys! Train selfie!” Crystal cries suddenly, jolting Vanessa out of her daydream. Vanessa leans onto the middle of the table to squeeze herself into shot and yelps when Brooke tugs her back.

“You just totally Mike Wazowski’d me!”

“Oh like anyone could miss you in any photo, fuckin’ lil miss beanstalk bitch!” Vanessa teases her, the girls all laughing in response.

“So funny that half your fans think you’re datin’. You two fight like cat an’ dog on the daily,” Asia rolls her eyes and snorts. Vanessa feels her body spark with electricity as Brooke takes her hand under the table and squeezes it a couple of times in secret.

She feels guilty as she looks to Akeria who’s raising her eyebrows at her, still very aware of her crush. It’s not that Vanessa has kept things secret from her and Monique intentionally. It’s just that she and Brooke have been so wrapped up in each other and their rehearsals, not to mention the fact that they haven’t had a girls’ night in forever. Vanessa resolves to tell them this weekend, having to bite back a smile as she thinks about their potential reactions.

“Guys, get in the fucking selfie already! My arm is hurting!”

Vanessa leans back into Brooke’s chest and feels something in her ribcage blossom as Brooke puts her arms around her in a hug for the photo.

The train starts moving and all the girls give an excited squeal of delight which makes two old ladies a few seats down look at them all suspiciously. There’s a flash of recognition in their eyes after a second and their attitude changes, judgemental eyes becoming kind. Vanessa wonders if it will ever fully sink in that she’s ‘famous’, a public figure. Right now it just feels as if she’s going on some big mad girls’ weekend away with her second family and a girl she really fucking likes.

The evening is mostly taken up by the train ride, all the girls having rehearsed during the day and trundled their suitcases to the train when they were done. Yvie vlogs, Crystal and Gigi chatter excitedly, and Akeria and Asia bicker about who’s eaten the most buttons. Vanessa and Brooke for their part hold hands underneath the table, share little smiles that speak both volumes and a thousand words, and flirt just enough to make Vanessa’s heart beat out her chest but not enough to arouse suspicion. All the while they speed past towns that she’s never heard of and will never visit, blurs of green and grey shrouded in the dark of the Autumn night sky.

The train doesn’t go all the way to Blackpool so they have to change at Preston, which Vanessa knows nothing about other than the fact it’s got a train station. The girls find the platform for their connecting train and mill about, stopping once to take photos with an adorable little Strictly fan who can’t be more than eight years old. Vanessa chats away with her way more than the other girls do because the little girl’s dark hair, nut brown skin and huge brown eyes make her miss her own little cousins back in Puerto Rico. She asks her about school, and if she dances, and what she wants to be when she grows up.

When the girl replies, “a dancer like you”, Vanessa almost tears up.

She tells her not to give up on her dreams- because it’s what eight year old her would’ve needed to hear- and then waves her and her Mum goodbye. By the time she’s finished chatting and she turns back around, Brooke is waiting for her with a little smile on her face.

“What? What’s that look for?” Vanessa laughs a little. She wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around Brooke’s waist in a hug but the platform is busy and the other girls could see them.

“Nothing. Just you’re really cute with kids.”

Vanessa smiles bashfully, looks to the ground. When she looks up again Brooke has come a little closer to her. Vanessa pouts as she very gently threads the tips of their fingers together, the closest they can come to holding hands in public.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

“Let’s do it,” Brooke giggles quietly, a little sparkle in her eyes. “Let’s just start making out and watch how the girls react. Yvie would put it in one of her fucking vlogs.”

“Storytime- my Strictly co-stars just kissed?” Vanessa jokes, and Brooke wheezes a laugh which in turn makes the other girls turn round. Vanessa immediately drops their hands as Asia eyes them both with suspicion.

Brooke looks back at her and Vanessa can feel her pulse speed up at the adoration that’s in her eyes. “You look so good today, let me take a candid that’s not really a candid.”

“A plandid,” Vanessa shrugs back, then screws up her face. “I look like shit though. I sweated all my makeup off in rehearsal, my skin’s all dry from that train heater an’ I’m wearing sweatpants I’ve owned for six years.”

“Still cute though,” Brooke winks, and Vanessa tries to suppress a smile as she relents, shakes her hair out and looks down the platform. She’s surprised to find the train making its way up the tracks and after a second she leaps back, grabbing her suitcase and Brooke’s arm and yelling to the other girls.

It’s only when they’re on the train again when she gets an Instagram tag and realises that Brooke managed to take the photo, and she has to admit she doesn’t look too bad. She’s confused, though, when she sees what Brooke has captioned it.

bhytes: sls 🧡

Vanessa looks quickly at Brooke before tapping out a message to her.

V: what’s sls mean??? x

She watches Brooke’s reaction in real time as she receives the message. Her eyes widen a little and a pink blush appears on her cheeks, almost as if she’s been caught at something. Vanessa watches her fingers hover over the screen, typing against the air as she tries to figure out how to reply. Eventually, Vanessa’s phone buzzes again.

B: Oh I meant to type sis!!!! Silly typo x

Vanessa narrows her eyes- she’s not buying that for a second. Sure enough as she goes back to Brooke’s Instagram page there’s a small “Edited” beside her caption, and it now reads what Brooke had just told her she’d allegedly meant to type. Feeling a little guilty for snooping, Vanessa scrolls through the comments- there’s one from Yvie already, and another from Jackie, and some from Brooke’s friends and colleagues of course, but eventually she reaches the fans.

branjie2020: SHE EDITED IT IM-

strictlybranjie: Brooke we see u girl

brookelynnbites: not little mix secret love song…………

Intrigued, Vanessa looks up the lyrics and instantly she knows why Brooke had been shy with her. Now blushing herself, Vanessa puts her phone face down on the table and loses herself in thought. She thinks about the lyrics. Why can’t I say that I’m in love…it’s just a song, Brooke probably just meant the sentiment generally, but still. Vanessa can’t help but wonder if maybe they could make something of whatever it is that they are, a fling between two members of a TV show. Maybe they’ll be together when this is all over, and maybe…well. Vanessa hasn’t told anyone that she loves them like that since Kameron, and it would be a big deal if she said it to somebody else again. She’s not falling for Brooke yet; that would be ridiculous, especially given that they’ve not even so much as seen each other naked, but all Vanessa knows is that she really likes her, cares for her so much that it almost scares her, and whenever she’s around Vanessa feels as if she’s levitating.

Vanessa puts her jacket over her lap and wordlessly takes Brooke’s hand underneath it. She doesn’t miss the smile on Brooke’s face when she squeezes it reassuringly.

They all eventually reach Blackpool, the windy seaside weather and the sound of the seagulls greeting them as soon as they’re out of the train station. Their hotel isn’t far from the Tower Ballroom and Vanessa’s glad that they’re not staying at some run down B&B although the BBC, always eager to cut costs wherever they can, has booked them all in with each other in twin rooms. Vanessa isn’t mad about that. Admittedly after that moment they had in Brooke’s dressing room last Saturday she’s been thinking ever since about how she could engineer some form of sequel. She’s narrowed it down to finding an excuse to crawl into Brooke’s bed at night, bullshitting something about it being too cold in her own and how it would be so much warmer if they just slept together. That’s if she needs to be subtle, of course. Knowing how Brooke had practically slammed her against her dressing room door last week there’s probably not going to be much need for subtleties.

“I hope you don’t snore,” Brooke laughs, rolling her suitcase out of the lift and onto the carpet of the hotel corridors. Vanessa lets out an incredulous snort.

“Bitch! Do I seem like the kinda girl who snores? I’m insulted.”

“No, that’s true. I need to worry about you talking in your sleep instead. The loudest girl in the fucking cast,” Brooke laughs, Vanessa kicking a leg forward to knock Brooke’s suitcase off-balance as revenge. Even though it wobbles on its wheels, Brooke is undeterred. “I’m going to be trying to get to sleep and just as I think I’m drifting off all I’ll here is…AN’ FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!”

“Shut up,” Vanessa giggles, giving Brooke a push as they both arrive in front of the hotel room door. Brooke presses the key card to the pad and walks in first, and Vanessa is too busy struggling with her case to gauge her reaction at first. That is until Brooke turns around from the spot she’s rooted to in the middle of the room.

“Oh.”

Vanessa frowns. She doesn’t really know why Brooke’s grown so awkward and quiet all of a sudden until she takes three steps forward and can see their room properly.

‘Oh’ is right. Because there, in the middle of their room, is a double bed. No, not double. King-sized, a king-sized fucking bed that’s probably the size of a small country village and is just for the two of them. All Vanessa’s plans go out the window because this is…new, and unknown territory. A quick makeout session in Brooke’s dressing room is one thing but the two of them haven’t even stayed over at either of their flats yet, they’ve never shared a bed in any context before. Vanessa bites her lip.

“Well…” Brooke says finally, trails off. Vanessa realises that she’s not going to finish her sentence.

“Um. I can go down and get ‘em to change it?” she offers, regretting it as soon as she’s said it because despite it all being new territory she’s not exactly opposed to it.

“No! No, it’s fine,” Brooke says- a little too quickly, Vanessa thinks, which causes her to suppress a smirk and try not to let her thoughts get carried away. “I mean, we’re both adults, it’s fine. Plus it’ll probably be comfier, right?”

“Yeah. Sure, right,” Vanessa nods and agrees, trying not to seem too eager.

It’s late by that point, so the pair of them unpack, trying to chat easily but the elephant in the room shaped like a king-sized bed is still very much present. Vanessa showers before bed and changes into her pyjamas, a little embarrassed at how scruffy her small black cami top and mid-length bottoms are. When Brooke comes back from her own shower, though, already changed into her pyjama set, Vanessa’s mouth dries up. She’s dressed in a matching set made up of a little pink satin shirt and shorts, the black cording at the hem of which is only drawing Vanessa’s eyes to Brooke’s thighs and not at all helping the bed situation.

Brooke clearly sees her looking and raises an eyebrow. “Cute, right?”

Vanessa snaps out of her daze. “What?”

“The pyjamas. They’re from like…Asos or Missguided or something? One of them,” she replies, hopping into bed and under the covers on the other side. Vanessa inches away from her a little, careful not to make their bodies touch because this is different to dancing and it’s not as simple as just being able to wrap her body around Brooke’s or make some stupid move because there’s no performance high or adrenaline or alcohol, it’s just…them. The pair of them in the same bed with the silence of the room surrounding them and the dark of the night outside hidden from view by the blinds Vanessa pulled down. As Brooke gives her a quick kiss and leans over to her side of the bed to turn the light off, she gives a quick look back to Vanessa.

“Night, babe.”

Vanessa gives a small, nervous smile back as she says goodnight. They shuffle under the covers to get comfortable and the silence falls again. Vanessa should say something, do something, reach out and take Brooke’s hand or lean in again. But everything is new and different and the time just isn’t right and she has no idea if Brooke even wants to go there with her yet, so instead she closes her eyes and attempts to sleep.

But in the morning, things are different. The moment Vanessa stirs she can tell there’s something in the air. She blinks open her eyes, the sun peeking through the slats of the blinds already too bright. That’s not it, though. That’s not what’s different.

And then as she gains a little bit more consciousness it hits her like a ton of bricks.

Brooke’s leg is thrown over her thigh, her arm around her waist, and her body is pressed up against hers. Vanessa feels a little tingle flash between her legs. For one thing, it’s cute that Brooke’s sought Vanessa out to cuddle during the night- whether she was asleep or awake for that decision Vanessa doesn’t know, but it’s nice either way. But on the other hand, Brooke’s little satin shorts have risen up to expose most of her thigh, and it’s not helping Vanessa think rationally right now.

Slowly, Vanessa starts tracing soft patterns on Brooke’s arm in a bid to wake her up: little figures of eight, then her name, then love hearts because if Brooke’s asleep she can’t work out that that’s what they are. Brooke’s leg shifts against her, and Vanessa can feel a heat against her thigh which she can’t decide whether or not helps or worsens the situation she’s in. Just then, she feels Brooke’s thumb give a little movement, a small stroke against the skin of Vanessa’s stomach where her cami top has risen up during the night. When her thumb moves again, Vanessa knows she’s woken up.

Neither of them have spoken yet and Brooke’s still stroking at her stomach, so Vanessa shuffles back in her arms just in case she’s still half asleep. She hears Brooke give a stifled yawn on the pillow behind her, hears her breathing shallow out. She’s awake, so Vanessa can take things up a gear. She moves her fingers from her arm to Brooke’s thigh, keeping her touch light and gentle as she traces a little patch of skin just at the outside. She feels Brooke shift against her in response, tries not to think too much about her thighs or what’s in between them because she knows she’ll overwhelm herself, flip round to straddle her and end up begging her to make her come apart. This moment is good. It’s gentle and tense all at once, the pair of them just touching and teasing each other, a mutual understanding even though nothing’s been said. This is different to last night- there’s no awkwardness, there’s no tentativeness, there’s just Brooke’s body wrapped around Vanessa’s and there’s only so many places that situation can lead.

Vanessa feels Brooke press a small kiss to her shoulder blade and it makes her heart flutter, a hummingbird caged in her ribs. Brooke’s fingers trail a little higher to stroke under the material of her top and Vanessa feels herself melt. She wiggles in Brooke’s lap, knowing how it’ll drive her crazy given the amount of comments the girl’s made about how much she loves her ass and how completely obvious she’s made it. In response, Vanessa feels Brooke sigh against her neck, kissing it once, twice, three times.

Vanessa feels her resolve cracking so she traces a little higher on Brooke’s leg, decides to break the silence. She tries to keep the smirk out of her voice but it’s hard when Brooke bucks against her thigh again. “Good morning.”

Brooke gives a little whine against her neck which makes Vanessa press her thighs together, raising her own hips in an attempt to gain some sort of friction. “Morning.”

Vanessa presses her lips together in a suppressed smile, her next move falling into place in her head. “Y’know, I think I’m gonna get up an’ start gettin’ ready.”

“No,” Brooke whines, the arm around her waist pulling her closer, and Vanessa can hear the pout in her voice. She feels Brooke rub against her thigh again and it’s almost impeding her ability to think straight at this point.

She’s having fun winding her up though and she knows she’ll be able to have Brooke begging for her if she keeps it up, so she attempts to turn around a little to face her. She can’t really manage it, but she doesn’t mind too much. She just wants to see Brooke’s face when she delivers her next line, keeps her tone light and ever-so-slightly mocking. “Why not, boo?”

Vanessa decides to shuffle round, can hear Brooke whine in frustration now that she no longer has something to grind against. When she sees Brooke blushing, biting her lip with her hand now pressed between her thighs, it’s the hottest thing Vanessa has seen in probably years.

Brooke’s still not answered- instead she’s trying to shuffle close to Vanessa, presumably to kiss her, but Vanessa’s enjoying her moment of being in charge, so she lays her hand against Brooke’s chest to stop her and narrows her eyes. “Uh-uh. You gotta tell me why I shouldn’t leave this bed.”

Brooke only blushes harder, and Vanessa’s knocked for six. Brooke is actually shy. This confident, stone-cold goddess is getting embarrassed at the prospect of talking dirty to Vanessa in bed.

Vanessa’s brain is hotwiring.

“Don’t go quiet on me, princess,” Vanessa murmurs, bringing her other hand down to stroke at Brooke’s exposed skin again, this time against the visible strip of her inner thigh. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“Please…kiss me, fuck-”

Brooke’s barely got the words out when Vanessa bridges the gap between them, meets Brooke’s lips with her own and kisses her softly and gently. She knows Brooke wants more, knows she’s getting herself worked up beside her but Vanessa’s enjoying having the power for now because knowing Brooke it won’t be long before she tries to take it back. When Vanessa pulls away Brooke is pouting, all disappointed that Vanessa’s lips are no longer on hers. Vanessa hears Brooke give a little gasp and then a whine as she takes her hand, the one Brooke’s grinding against, brings it out from between her thighs and places it by her side. There’s an unspoken rule between them that Brooke’s not allowed to replace it.

“Please, ‘Ness,” she pouts, and Vanessa would find it cute if her hands weren’t trailing up and down her waist. Brooke paws at her, needy and desperate, stops to rest her hands on her ass.

“You’re so polite. Such a good girl for me,” Vanessa praises her, kissing her pouty lips and delighting in the way Brooke moans against her. Vanessa strokes her hair with the hand she’s not propping herself up with and she can tell Brooke wants it somewhere else.

“Please,” Brooke says again, her eyelids heavy and her pupils blown. Vanessa feels herself give a small laugh.

“I don’t know what you want, baby.”

“You know what I want, fuck,” Brooke whines, her eyes fluttering closed. She thuds her head against the pillow in frustration, grabs at Vanessa’s ass in an attempt to pull her closer.

“You want me to touch you?” Vanessa murmurs, and Brooke nods her head frantically in response. She trails her hand down Brooke’s neck and down her chest, stops when she sees Brooke’s nipples poking through the satin fabric of her pyjama top. Vanessa bites her lip as she flicks her thumb against one, squeezes her thighs together for the hundredth time when she hears Brooke let out a moan. She teases her slowly and gently, can feel her own breathing deepening as Brooke writhes against the sheets. Brooke’s hand drifts from Vanessa’s ass to the waistband of her own shorts and Vanessa stops touching her, moving her hand to her wrist instead.

“You want me to just sit and watch you touch yourself? Sit here on the bed with you fuckin’ yourself with your fingers instead of letting me fuck you instead?” Vanessa asks her, making sure to keep a warning tone to her voice as she draws away. Brooke whines, instantly ripping her hand out from between her legs and pulling Vanessa close with it instead.

“No, baby, I’ll be good.”

“You gonna be good for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Vanessa feels sorry for her at this point so she lies on her side against the mattress, tucks herself in beside Brooke and traces the skin just above the waistband of her shorts. Brooke is letting out a litany of whines as Vanessa inches her hand under the material, stops and presses a gentle finger against Brooke’s slit. Vanessa feels herself gasp as she feels how wet she is already, slick against her finger and dripping on the inside of her thighs.

“Fuck,” Vanessa whispers, leans in to kiss Brooke’s neck. She’s managed to find herself an actual Aphrodite and she’s never felt more religious in her life. She tilts her head as she slides a finger up to brush against Brooke’s clit, eliciting a gasp from Brooke who bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut. “What would people say if they knew that Brooke Lynn Hytes, confident, boss-ass, sex-on-legs bitch, turns into a lil’ whiny, bratty, needy princess when she wants to come so badly?”

“Vanessa, please,” Brooke practically sobs in response. Her hips lift high off the mattress as Vanessa rubs little circles against her. Vanessa desperately wants to feel how wet she is again but she’s wondering if she can wind her up even more, so she moves her lips up to whisper in Brooke’s ear.

“Remember when I sent you that message by accident?” Vanessa asks, her voice a low murmur. Brooke hisses in response and Vanessa sees her grab a fistful of the duvet.

“Shit, you know I got myself off to the thought of you lying in bed all wet and needy after you had that dream,” Brooke gasps out, and Vanessa’s eyes fly open in shock. If Brooke didn’t have her knees bent and propped up then she would probably straddle her thigh and try to ride it until she came because God, the idea that Brooke touched herself thinking about her in the morning and then came into the studios and acted as if it had never happened with her afterwards is just too much. Almost as a reward for the information Brooke’s just given her, Vanessa slides a finger inside her and hears Brooke moan in response.

“Y’know you were the girl from the dream,” Vanessa drops her lips down to Brooke’s neck, kissing it hot and slow as she slides a second finger into Brooke and presses the rest of her hand gently against her clit. Brooke gives a gasp that’s almost sacrilegious.

Brooke is writhing beside her, frantic and desperate and frustrated and Jesus fucking Christ if Vanessa couldn’t just come from the sight of that alone. “Tell me. Tell me what happened.”

So Vanessa whispers in Brooke’s ear about how she’d kissed her, how Brooke had told her how much she’d wanted her, how Vanessa had begged her to touch her and how Brooke had got her off through her underwear, and she hears Brooke gasp and moan and whine in response to each new revelation. Vanessa fucks her gently with her fingers and Brooke is so wet around her that it’s sending her into a frenzy herself. Suddenly, Vanessa has an idea.

“And you told me you thought I would taste good,” Vanessa tells her, tipping her head up a little to gauge Brooke’s reaction.

“Fuck…want to taste you so bad,” Brooke pleads.

All her shyness seems to be gone now that she’s riding Vanessa’s fingers desperately, and even though Vanessa thought shy Brooke was cute, this version of Brooke- the Brooke that knows what she wants, the Brooke that’s loud and vocal and messy- is her favourite. Vanessa gently removes her hand from between Brooke’s legs, ignoring the nearly apocalyptic whine Brooke lets out in response to the lack of contact, and takes Brooke’s hand from where it’s still digging into the duvet. Vanessa shifts a little, spreads her own legs as she guides Brooke’s hand between them, and her heart is almost beating out of her chest as Brooke eagerly brushes two fingers over her, hears her gasp as her fingers slide up her slit easily from how wet she is.

Brooke’s fingers feel like heaven as they push softly inside her, pumping gently, and Vanessa’s moan is cut off by Brooke’s lips against hers. Brooke’s kisses are slow and wet and she teases Vanessa’s tongue with her own as Vanessa bucks her hips underneath her. For a moment, her plan to make Brooke come is thrown into disarray as she thinks maybe she could just lie here and let Brooke tease her and finger her until she does instead.

“Oh my fuckin’ God you feel so good,” Vanessa whispers out in one breath, the way she sounds so broken already making her blush and bite her lip. Brooke’s gaze is dark- she’s watching the way Vanessa bucks her hips up to meet her fingers as they slide out of her, greedy and desperate just like Brooke had been.

“So wet and I never even touched you,” Brooke whispers, the little bit of awe in her voice sending Vanessa into the stratosphere. “You got this worked up over me?”

“You should see how good you look when you wanna come so bad,” Vanessa murmurs back, turning to watch as Brooke takes her fingers and wraps her lips around them, slides them into her mouth and sucks on them.

Every single time Brooke does something new Vanessa thinks it’s the sexiest thing she’s ever seen, so the fact that Brooke’s no longer touching her isn’t helping at all. Brooke’s a goddess though and she wants to worship her properly so Vanessa leans over her, doesn’t even bother trying to manoeuvre around the waistband of Brooke’s shorts this time and instead just trails her fingers up Brooke’s inner thigh, moves the material to one side and teases her again with her fingers. She rubs gently against Brooke’s clit and can hear her breathing coming in short gasps, knows she’s close so Vanessa kisses her, deep and fiery and hot, then murmurs against her lips as Brooke’s hisses and whines get increasingly louder.

“You know once you come I’m gonna let you do whatever you want to me.”

Brooke gasps and Vanessa watches her eyes roll back into their sockets. “Fuck, I’m gonna get you back for teasing me so fucking bad you won’t be able to sit right for a week never mind fucking dance- ah!”

Brooke’s reacted to Vanessa pulling her hand away. Vanessa’s making sure her eyes are dark, giving Brooke a warning. “Is that trash talk, or are you gonna be good for me?”

“Please, Vanessa!” Brooke nearly yells into the room, and Vanessa thinks that perhaps she’s put the poor girl through enough so she replaces her fingers, works Brooke’s clit until she’s gasping beside her, little shudders racking her body.

“‘Ness, I’m gonna- ah!”

As Brooke comes, Vanessa crashes their lips together, and the sound of Brooke’s muffled whines gives her a better high than any drug ever could. When she’s sure Brooke’s finished Vanessa leans back against the mattress, exhausted. Her left side is practically numb from propping herself up, her neck is tense and her right hand is aching but fuck if that hadn’t been the best sex of Vanessa’s life and she hasn’t even come yet.

“You good?” Vanessa asks Brooke once she’s got her breath back. Brooke is on her back, her eyes wide and staring up to the ceiling, her hair plastered all over her face and her chest shiny with sweat. Vanessa watches as she moves her mouth once, twice, trying to come up with something to say and failing.

“I don’t have any words,” she finally says, and Vanessa bursts out laughing beside her. Brooke giggles, then suddenly scowls, reaches behind her head for her pillow and thumps Vanessa with it.

“Hey! What the fuck was that for?”

“You were so mean!” Brooke half-pouts, half-laughs and she leans over Vanessa, cages her in with her arms. Even after sex she still looks incredible in her pyjamas, and Vanessa finds herself rubbing her thighs together, trying and failing to find something to rut against. Brooke obviously notices this and Vanessa watches the little flash in her eyes as she grabs Vanessa’s wrists, pins them above her head in one swift motion.

Vanessa almost dissolves.

“You know I’m used to being in charge, right? That was very out of character for me,” Brooke cocks an eyebrow at her. Vanessa smirks back at her, anticipation building low in her stomach at the thought of Brooke bossing her around and roughing her up a little.

“Well then maybe you need to put me in my place.”

When Brooke straddles her, leans down and meets her lips in a kiss, Vanessa feels as if she’s made entirely of embers and flames. She pulls away and Vanessa realises that she’s tugging her pyjama bottoms off so Vanessa brings her knees up to her chest to help make things easier. Once they’re off Vanessa’s heart crashes against her ribcage as Brooke takes her legs and spreads them apart quickly, her palms holding Vanessa’s thighs down. As Brooke leans between her thighs Vanessa tangles one hand in her hair, her heart rate rising in anticipation as she feels herself throb. She waits for the contact of Brooke’s tongue, tipping her head back against the pillow.

It doesn’t come. Instead, she hears Brooke’s voice.

“You know, maybe I’m tired now after you played with me so much earlier. Maybe I just need to go back to sleep.”

Vanessa brings her head back up in shock and looks at Brooke’s face. She’s got a glint in her eye and a smug smile on her lips and Vanessa has never wanted to kiss the smirk off her face more. As much as she thinks the girl is a goddess, there’s no way she’s giving her what she wants that easily. “Uh-uh. I ain’t beggin’ you, Brooke.”

Brooke raises her eyebrows lazily, lightly scratches her nails down the insides of Vanessa’s thighs and in turn making her rapidly regret her last comment because she knows she’s going to be yelling Brooke’s name in probably a matter of minutes once she puts her mouth on her. “That’s some awfully big talk from someone who moments ago was trying to grind against air.”

“But I know you wanna feel how wet I am an’ hear what I sound like when I’m about to come,” Vanessa whispers, bucking her hips up because Brooke’s touching every little bit of her except the place she needs the contact most and it’s starting to kill her very slowly. “You want me ridin’ your face.”

Vanessa sees Brooke blink slowly, the composure and power she’s just built up wavering just a little. Then she makes eye contact again, presses kisses up Vanessa’s inner thigh that make her feel as if she’s burning up.

“Yeah,” Brooke murmurs against Vanessa’s skin, punctuating her sentence with kisses. “But I also know that I want to hear you beg me for it, and you’re not going to come until you ask me nicely.”

“Fuck,” Vanessa whines, letting her head thud against the pillow. She regrets teasing Brooke so badly. Actually she doesn’t at all, but her behaviour is coming back to bite her and it’s not fun. She’s shocked into a gasp as Brooke licks up her slit, the contact gone almost as soon as it’s there. “Brooke, baby, c’mon, this ain’t fair.”

“Is it not? I think it’s perfectly fair,” Brooke laughs softly and traces patterns into her inner thighs that make Vanessa want to scream. “I had to be a good girl for you, now you have to be one for me.”

“Honestly you could be doing whatever you want to me right now an’ all you want is for me to say fuckin’ please?” Vanessa hisses, frustrated and incredulous and ready to fucking explode.

“I want you to be good for me. Good girls use their manners.”

As if to drive her point home Brooke kisses up her thigh and then licks against her again, too much and not enough all at once. Vanessa needs Brooke’s mouth and her tongue and her lips and so her resolve cracks all too quickly like a sheet of ice.

“Okay, okay, okay, God fucking damn it…please, Brooke.”

“Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is,” Brooke replies instantly. The bitch is using Vanessa’s own words against her for her own gain and it’s infuriating Vanessa as she bucks her hips in the air, writhes against the mattress.

“Want you to use your mouth, fuck, please.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

All at once Vanessa feels as if she’s been shot out of a cannon because when Brooke’s tongue finally licks at her clit slowly and gently Vanessa thinks she’s ascending to heaven at about a million miles per hour. When Vanessa brings her hand back to tangle in Brooke’s hair, Brooke takes her wrist and holds it down with one hand, putting her even more in control. Vanessa can still use her hips though and she does exactly what she said she was going to do- rides Brooke’s face as her tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge and makes her even more wet than she’d been in the first place. Vanessa would probably feel embarrassed at how much she’s writhing and whining and moaning underneath Brooke if her mouth didn’t feel so fucking perfect, and with every flick and swirl of her tongue Vanessa feels more and more like a raging fire that needs to be put out.

“Brooke Lynn, fuck, you’re gonna make me fuckin’-”

Brooke’s nails dig into her thighs as Vanessa comes with a loud cry, the blaze burning her up finally extinguished. Vanessa sinks back into the pillows and Brooke simply relaxes with her head against Vanessa’s stomach. It makes her wish that they could just spend all day in their hotel room and learn each other’s bodies, figure out everything the other likes in the space of a single day.

“Wish we didn’t have to get up,” Brooke sighs against her skin, presses a kiss to her stomach which makes it flutter. Vanessa smiles lazily, laces their fingers together which makes Brooke smile in turn. Brooke’s voice is soft as she keeps talking. “So was that, um…good? For you?”

Vanessa starts giggling, gives Brooke a gentle kick with her foot. “Jesus, dare you to sound any more like a 19 year old boy who just lost his virginity.”

Brooke gives an offended cry, plants her lips to Vanessa’s stomach and blows a giant raspberry against her skin that makes her howl with laughter and curl in on herself like a woodlouse.

Vanessa fights through her laughter. “Oh my God okay, okay! I’m sorry. Of course it was good, fuckin’ amazing. The whole fuckin’ buildin’ prolly knows how good it was, think I damn near yelled the place down.”

“Not entirely great for the whole keeping-us-on-the-down-low thing, though.”

“I guess you’d know, havin’ just spent a decent amount of time on the down low,” Vanessa wiggles her eyebrows and causes Brooke to yelp a laugh.

Charmed by the other woman’s reaction, Vanessa gently slides herself out from underneath her and steals the duvet to wrap around herself as she crosses the short distance to the window and pulls the string on the blinds to open them up. She smiles as she’s greeted by the seafront view: the sea icy but blue under the sunny November sky, the golden sand of the beach, the little rattle of the tram that’s making its way along the waterfront. The smile is still on Vanessa’s face as she turns to take in the sight of Brooke still splayed out on the mattress. She’s got that post-sex glow with the light hitting her toned skin and her hair all messed up around her face like a scribble of a halo.

Vanessa feels a tug on her heart, a longing even though she knows Brooke is hers.

“Welcome to Blackpool, baby. Let’s get those tens.”

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #bet you look good on the dancefloor #strictly au #lesbian au #smut #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #akeria davenport #asia o'hara

39 notes · View notes

buckyreaderrecs · 4 years

Text

So Far Away: Chapter 4/?

Summary: Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

Chapter 4: Sometimes the road to recovery is x-rays and pain killers. Sometimes, it's freeeeeesh ava ca doo.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, F.R.I.D.A.Y., Cecilia Reyes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting, Alpine the cat, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to the plot Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Note: Hi! I am overwhelmingly grateful to everyone who has read this story, and heard my call for inspiration. Because of you, this chapter exists, and I have a better idea of where to take this story. Thank you all so, so much. Honestly. I hope you love this.

So Far Away Chapter 4/?

Waking up in such a soft and safe environment took a hot minute. The danger was so far away from you and comfort was so close. Slowly though, your eyes opened and you tried to sit up. Sloooow mooootion. But then, pain.

You'd apparently slept off the memory of your injured hand, leaning straight onto it. It hurt so badly that you felt dizzy, then quickly sick to your stomach.

Within seconds of hearing you cry out, Bucky was at your side. "Alright, come on, darl'. Knew we should've gone straight to the doc when we got 'ere," he said, the latter statement directed at himself.

Trying to shuffle to the edge of the huge bed was exhausting. Tears began to stream down your face, running over the flushing red skin. You were embarrassed, somehow feeling it through the intense pain.

"Can you stand?"

You could, albeit shaky and holding your arm close to your chest, terrified something would hit it.

Bucky pressed a hand to your lower back and ushered you gently from the suite.

In the elevator, he called to F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Tell me someone's up in med?"

"Dr Cho is in D.C. but has left Medical to Dr Reyes,"

"Okay. Tell her we're on our way," he asked.

"Already done,"

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

Bucky turned to you, watched you struggle to keep your eyes open. He frowned, then cupped your face in his hands. The vibranium was cool.

"You're gonna be okay, Y/N. I know it hurts, but trust me - I've seen worse."

He wasn't being dismissive, just trying to pull you from the pain for a second or two. It worked; you offered him a weak smile. Bucky leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. You could smell toothpaste. He must have been in the middle of getting ready for the day when you woke up.

'Medical' was a whole floor. Research happened in the east wing, and the trauma centre existed in the west.

Dr Cecilia Reyes was ready, waiting for your arrival. "Barnes," she greeted. "You found her then,"

"Word travels fast, huh?"

"Oh, you know… Winter Soldier on a mission to find a girl. That kinda thing gets people talking," she replied with a smirk.

Bucky liked Cecilia. She was tough, raised in the Bronx. He liked that despite her power, she opted for a relatively normal life. She was good people.

"Well, welcome," she said to you, leading you to a private room. "I'm Dr Reyes. Heard you've banged up your hand pretty bad?"

"Yeah," you managed to squeak out.

"Scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?"

Ten. Definitely. "Uh… Eight," you lied.

Cecilia snorted. "So at least a nine then? Don't need to be tough for me," she told you, smiling kindly. She nodded for Bucky to help you up onto the bed in the room.

"I was okay last night," you said to her.

"Probably still in a bit of shock. Had a rough couple of days. Body's smart. Guess it waited to tell you it needed help," she replied.

"Should've brought you here last night," Bucky said.

"Nah, Barnes. Sleep is the great healer. She's here now. Let's see what we've got."

An x-ray, backlit and brutal, showed a broken ring finger, broken thumb, and three breaks to your hand. Cecilia told you that all things considered, you were lucky; the breaks hadn't split skin, muscle, or tendon. She set a cast on your wrist, hand, and thumb, and stabilised your ring finger by splinting it to your pinky.

"If you want, we can just cut it off and you can get one of what he's got," she joked during the process.

"Hey! Too soon," Bucky said, feigning offence.

She rolled her eyes at him dramatically. "What, like 80 years or something?"

Bucky laughed, then smiled over at you. "It's all right, darlin'," he said, noticing your expression. "If I can't joke about it, what's it good for, you know?"

"In her case, it's good for some top tier pain meds. Here - take two as needed. No more than eight a day. With food is better. And for reference, a can of Pringles does not count as a meal,"

"That felt personal," Bucky said, eyes narrowing at Cecilia.

"Your diet is trash," she told him, matter of fact.

"Firstly, once you pop you can't stop. Even I know that. Secondly, how do you know about my diet, doll?"

"Doll me again, Barnes, and I'll-"

"What?" he interrupted. "Force field me to death?"

"Joke all ya want, but it can be done."

Bucky laughed again, fondly shaking his head at her. Cecilia held back a full grin.

"Force field?" you asked, sitting quietly, letting the fentanyl you'd been given before the x-ray seep into your body.

"I'll tell ya later," Bucky said, reaching out to fold stray hair behind your ear.

"Alright, need anything else? You're not-" Cecilia started.

"Nah, nah, I'm good. Thanks, Doc. We''ll get out cha' way."

They hugged like they meant it, and she left the room.

Bucky turned to you. "I'd decorate that thing for ya, but Steve's the artist," he said, nodding at your cast.

"S'okay," you whispered in reply.

"Fentanyl working then?"

Eyes closed, grinning, you nodded slowly. Bucky snorted.

"Good. Guess we'll get some food in you then,"

"Pringles?" you asked hopefully as Bucky held your hips, helping you slide off the bed.

"Whatever you want, darlin'."

People pretended not to watch you and Bucky leave the trauma centre. It's kinda what people did in Stark Tower - pretend not to see and know what they saw and knew.

"He's got a girlfriend" someone whispered.

"No, didn’t he, like, go full hero and save her or something?"

"Think we got more to worry about than who and what Bucky Barnes is doing," Cecilia said loudly to the room. She smiled though. Good for him, she thought to herself.

…

Before you really knew what was happening, Bucky was handing you an iPad.

"Sit. Ubereats us something," he said.

You were on the couch, back in Bucky's suite. Looking around, you felt that awe again - floor to ceiling windows with New York views will do that. There was a light, knitted blanket over you. It seemed out of place in the modern apartment setting.

For a good fifteen minutes since returning from the medical suite, you'd just been sitting there. Bucky had waited until you seemed more… coherent, to ask you to pick food.

"You know Ubereats?" you asked, smiling, proud of yourself.

Bucky snorted. "I know I'm old, but I'm not playing-bingo-with-senior-citizens old."

You laughed and for a second, forgot about everything.

"That being said," he added, "I did live through The Depression, and I do have a super soldier metabolism… So, you know, don't skimp on the food."

You wondered what his dinner of choice normally would be. Order history! It looked like Bucky was working his way through every takeout option in N.Y. Nothing repeated.

"Burrrrrrito?" you asked.

"Yeah, darl'. Whatever you want,"

"I waaaaant… freeeesh ava ca doo,"

"That the drugs talking?"

Mental note to self: show Bucky Barnes memes.

After the order was placed, you put the iPad on the coffee table in front of you. Bucky picked it up, shot you a grin, and disappeared for a while. You did consider following him - he felt like safety. But, you were slowly coming out of the fog of fentanyl and knew tagging along like a lost puppy probably would make you feel awkward more than anything.

Bucky's voice floated through… superhero stuff, you assumed. Busying yourself with finding the remote, then being startled by F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s offer of help ("Can I help you find something to watch?"), you managed to fill the time until Bucky returned without having to really think too much. There was a feeling sitting in the back of your mind and the bottom of your stomach that you wanted to keep ignoring for as long as possible. It seemed… bad. And you weren't ready for bad.

"Alright," Bucky said, coming to stand in front of you. "How we doing?"

You smiled, nodded. His expression shifted. Sceptical.

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Ah-huh," you confirmed.

"I'm just gonna run down and grab the food. Won't be a second."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with only the television to keep you company. You tried to pay attention, focus on the show. But the volume was too loud, even on the lowest setting. It was agitating, stressful even. Switching it off, you were enveloped in silence.

Calm down, you told yourself. And yet, a heartbeat was pounding in your ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You could hear your own organs now?!

Suddenly, you found yourself at the window, looking down at the city. How can everyone… You were thinking too fast, spiralling. But how could you think of anything else? How could everyone down there just keep going? D.C. was still burning. People had died.

People.

Your people.

Everything - your head, the room, your world - began to spin.

Where's… Where's… Where the hell was a phone?

"Y/N," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice alarmed you, coming out of nowhere, but not enough to make you jump. "I'm detecting an elevated heart rate. Can I help you with anything?"

"I… ah… You're just a machine," you muttered to yourself mostly. "Wait! No! Where's the phone?! I need a phone… I need to call…"

Call who? Who would you call first? What would you do if…

You didn't hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell you where to find a phone, or ask again if you were okay. You didn't hear her tell you Bucky was on his way up. As soon as he walked in, he knew what was happening.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell me next time," he said while putting the takeout on the suite's small round dining table. "Y/N," he called. He stood in your field of vision, but not too close. "Y/N? Can you hear me?"

"I'm… I need a phone," you said, voice frantic, pupils blown. "There's people…"

"We can do that. Phone's right here," Bucky told you, pulling his cell from his pocket and holding it out to you. When you didn't take it, he slid it back in and held a hand out to you instead. "Y/N, take my hand. We're gonna sit down. Don't want you to fall and break any more bones,"

"How many days has it been?" you asked, your words pushed together, the letters overlapping.

"I'm gonna come closer, okay? Coming to you." Bucky moved. When he could see it wasn't making it worse, he held on your good wrist, his other hand on your waist, and walked you to the couch. You followed along, mindlessly compliant. "It's been five days. Not everyone will be on the lists yet, but we'll call, yeah? Or, we can get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do it for us."

You were sort of nodding, but were still finding it hard to focus. Bucky waited another few moments, watching and assessing, before deciding he needed to intervene further.

He put his left hand on your face, cupping the cool metal to your skin. Gently but firmly, he turned you to face him.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked, raising his right hand.

"What?"

He repeated the question.

"Three," you answered, dismissive and maybe even a little annoyed.

"Good. Now?"

"Five. What are you doing?"

"Now?"

"Two! What are you doing?!"

"Distracting you," Bucky said. "Making your mind work on a task that isn't just panicking,"

"I'm not panicking," you told him.

"Not now, 'cause it worked. You're still not breathing properly though,"

"I'm fine,"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Bucky called.

She spoke, "Your heart rate is still elevated, Y/N, and-"

"Okay, I get it," you stopped her.

"Just take a couple breaths with me. Don't need 'em to be deep. Just hold them for a couple seconds."

As he called it, you took a breath in, two, three, out, two, three. You managed to do it twice before shaking your head and wriggling in your spot.

"I'm not- I just-" and you were off again, rambling about people, phones, and things you needed to do.

You went to stand, but Bucky grabbed you around the middle, pulling you down. Your back was to him, pressed to his chest, while his arms were wrapped around you. He would have let go if you fought him or cried out. But, you were limp and quiet almost immediately.

As you clung to his arms, he rested his head on your shoulder and made soft hushing sounds. Bucky waited patiently until your breathing regulated. You had closed your eyes and let your entire weight rest on him.

"I know how you feel. You're exhausted. Makes everything feel… bigger. But I promise you, it's gonna be okay," he told you, voice calm. Calming.

"You can't promise that," you replied, voice weak.

"I reckon if anyone can - it's me. Had a lot of life experience. And, got a lot of resources. Superhero perks," he laughed, trying to lighten your mood. "You trust me?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Good. So, trust me. I've got you. And right now, we've got some burritos that need eatin', and you need to tell me what freesh ava ca doo is."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth was entirely ridiculous and you couldn't help but snort. It left a smile on your face.

"There she is! Come on. Up!”

Chapter 5.

Tag list (open): @animegirlgeeky @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the–sad–hatter @grecianlune @fairislesheets

#mine #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes / Reader #bucky barnes/you #Bucky Barnes / You #Bucky Barnes / Y/N #Bucky Barnes/Y/N #Marvel fanfiction #So Far Away

64 notes · View notes

spn-safeandsound · 4 years

Text

08. Julia Ruth

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x12; Faith

Word Count: 11,431

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, injury, a steamy scene that doesn’t get very far, protective Dean

Author’s Note: Hi there! Sorry for the weeks since I last updated but I’m here again. This chapter is when things start to change for Dean as far as his feelings toward Julia. Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

The car was dead quiet. There was no music playing, there was no talking; the only sound that anyone could hear was the roar of the engine as Dean sped down the road to the abandoned house they had tracked the rawhead to.

Dean was the reason for the tense silence that filled the air. Well, really it was Dean and Julia but Dean was the only one still angry. Sam honestly thought his brother was overreacting but this was Baby they were talking about.

Their day started out normal. It was Julia's turn to pay for the motel, so they got connected rooms. They had breakfast, they questioned some witnesses about the disappearance of two young siblings, and then they went back to the motel to do some research. That's when things went downhill.

Dean had eaten the last of the chocolate chip cookies that Julia kept stashed away in her bag. Julia had thrown a fit when she found the empty box—it was then that Sam realized that he knew her way too well because he figured it was around the time of the month she started PMS-ing—and started an argument with Dean. Dean was never one to pass up a challenge, so he matched her tone and volume yell-for-yell.

And then Dean mentioned in passing that he saw her undergarments while looking for the cookies and it made it much worse. Sam had seen the embarrassed glint in Julia's eyes before Dean could and within the next moment, she burst into tears.

Dean had been absolutely horrified and started to apologize but Julia wasn't hurt—she was angry. She quickly went into her room and slammed the door that connected their rooms shut. When Dean had gone to the bathroom ten minutes later, she walked back into the room and stole the keys to the Impala.

Sam hadn't stopped her but he should have. He knew about the mood swings she'd get the week before her time of the month and he usually stayed out of her way but Dean was much more terrifying when it came to his precious Baby. He knew now that he'd much rather have a small ball of fury glaring at him with tears in her eyes than deal with his annoying brother when he was angry.

When Dean came out of the bathroom and saw that his keys were gone, he was livid. He waited for Julia in her room and when she got back from the gas station she drove to, with two packages of chocolate chip cookies and a tube of Pringles, the yelling started back up again—and the crying.

Sam honestly wondered how they hadn't gotten a noise complaint.

It had been hours since then and Julia had calmed down considerably. In fact, Sam would guess that she wasn't mad at all anymore, especially when she got her chocolate chip cookie fix. Dean, however, was a different story. He was still furious and was not talking to Julia whatsoever, leaving Sam to mediate. Now he knew how Julia felt whenever he and Dean argued.

Dean pulled into the driveway of the abandoned house and parked, turning off the engine. The three of them gathered at the trunk, watching as Dean dug through their arsenal to find the three tasers.

"How many volts are those turned to?" Julia asked Dean tentatively.

Dean pointedly ignored her.

Sam sighed heavily. "What do you got those amped up to?"

"A hundred thousand volts," Dean answered Sam. Julia's gaze hardened but she didn't say anything as he handed Sam the two tasers; Sam passed one of them onto her.

"Damn."

"Yeah, I want this rawhead extra-fucking-crispy," Dean grumbled as he shut the trunk. "Remember, you only get one shot with these things, so make it count."

They walked into the house and carefully searched the whole main floor before heading into the basement. They turned on their flashlights and slowly walked down the stairs, making sure to keep an eye out for the rawhead. There heard a thump come from their left and saw that it had come from a closed wardrobe.

"On three," Dean whispered to Sam as the two of them walked toward the wardrobe. "One. Two. Three."

He hurriedly opened the wardrobe, hearing a shrill squeak of fear. Julia turned around from where she was searching for the rawhead and saw that the brothers had found the little kids that had disappeared.

"Is it still here?" Sam asked them quietly; both kids nodded.

"Okay, grab your sister's hand," Dean grabbed the boy and gently pulled him to his feet. "Come on, we gotta get you out of here."

The kids scurried up the stairs with Sam on their heels and Dean and Julia watched their backs if the rawhead decided to attack them. Sam tripped as his ankle was grabbed through the staircase, causing the little girl to scream.

Sam watched as Dean whipped around the stairs and shot his taser. It surged out but hit nothing.

"Sam, get them upstairs!" Dean called to him. "Get outta here!"

"Here, take this," Sam tossed him his own taser before turning to scrambled up the rest of the stairs. He grabbed both of the kids' hands and led them out of the house. "Come on, come on."

They were safely outside when Sam heard Dean scream, "Julia!"

The desperation in his brother's voice chilled Sam's blood. He briefly told the kids to stay outside before sprinting back into the house and down the stairs to the basement. At the foot of the stairs, in a puddle of water, Dean knelt over Julia's body, desperately shaking her to wake her up.

Sam's breath left him.

"Julia!" he grunted, checking her pulse. "Come on, Jules, don't do this."

"Dean, what—?"

"Call an ambulance, Sam!"

He felt like his life was slowed down and then sped up in a second. He didn't remember calling for an ambulance, the paramedics doing CPR on Julia, or the ride to the hospital. It was like he blinked and he was suddenly in the middle of a silent waiting room, waiting for news on his best friend.

Sam hadn't been allowed to go back with Julia since he wasn't family but Dean had lied to the paramedics and told them he was her husband. While Dean stayed with Julia as the doctors ran tests on her, Sam called her family and took care of the paperwork that needed to be done while the police waited to ask him questions.

"Sir, I'm so sorry to ask," the nurse at the desk smiled sadly at him. "but your brother said you would give us Mrs. Petersen's insurance."

"Right," Sam shook his head blankly, pulling the insurance card that he took from Julia's wallet. He handed it to the nurse, along with her driver's license. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Mr. Petersen," the nurse assumed that his last name was the same as Julia's since they were told that she was married to his brother.

Sam nodded at her and turned to the police officers while she typed in Julia's information.

"Look, we can finish this up later," one of the officers suggested.

"No, no, it's okay," Sam shook his head; he wanted to get this done now. "We were just taking a shortcut through the neighborhood. The windows were rolled down, we heard some screaming when we drove past the house, and we stopped and ran in."

"And you found the kids in the basement?" the officer asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, thank God you did," the officer's partner commented

Sam looked back down the hallway when he heard the door to Julia's room open and close. A doctor walked out, holding a clipboard, and nodded at him so he could share Julia's results.

"Excuse me," he muttered to the officers.

"Sure," the officer nodded. "Thanks for your help."

Sam gave him a polite smile and turned away, walking over to the doctor. "Is she...?"

"She's resting," the doctor assured him.

"And?"

"The electrocution triggered a heart attack," the man informed him. "A pretty massive one, I'm afraid. Her heart is damaged."

Sam stiffened. "How damaged?"

"We've done all we can," he said sympathetically. "We can try and keep her comfortable at this point but I'd give her a couple of weeks. A month, at most."

"No," Sam shook his head in denial, his heart starting to race. "There's—there's gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment."

They could put her on the transplant list, they could give her a pacemaker...they had to do something, at least. Julia could not die. His sister could not die. He would do anything in his power to make sure she stayed alive. She was the one who was supposed to plan his funeral. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The doctor gave him a sad smile. "We can't work miracles," he mumbled. "I really am sorry."

Sam pressed his lips together and stormed away from the man. What kind of doctor wouldn't even put his patient on a heart transplant list? Didn't Julia qualify for that kind of thing? It's not like she smoked or did anything that would prevent her from being on the list.

The door to Julia's room was opened slightly and Sam could hear the low rumble of his brother's voice talking to someone. At first he thought that he was talking to Julia but then he realized that Dean was actually on the phone.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do, Beth," Dean spoke to Julia's oldest sister as Sam slipped into the room. Dean nodded at him and started again, reacting to whatever Beth told him, "No, a few weeks...he didn't say anything about a list, no... I can't exactly move her, Beth. She wouldn't make a drive back home, it's fourteen hours."

As Dean continued speaking with Beth, Sam observed his best friend. Julia was still asleep and the hospital bed made her look so damn small. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head, an oxygen mask placed over her mouth and nose, and dark circles stood out against her pale face under her eyes. There was a burn on her left cheek and at the top of her left arm, there was a bandage; Sam remembered that she had a few burns from where the volts left her body. He had never seen her look so sick.

"We're in Cheyanne, Wyoming," Dean told Beth.

Dean sounded as tired as Julia looked. His voice was dull and thick, as if he had a frog in his throat. The tip of his nose was red and so were the rims of his eyes. Sam had realized that Dean had been crying and it made his own throat tighten with emotion.

When he saw that Dean's, fingers were wrapped firmly around Julia's right hand where it rested on the hospital bed, tears came to his eyes.

God, he thought to himself, this couldn't be happening.

"Okay, I'll keep you updated," Dean confirmed into the phone. "Talk to you later, Beth."

He snapped the phone shut and stayed silent as he set it down and picked up the TV remote. He unmuted the volume and flipped through the channels, all the while keeping his hand around Julia's and his eyes on the TV.

"Have you ever actually watched daytime TV?" he asked Sam.

Sam sighed heavily. "I talked to J's doctor..."

"That fabric softener teddy bear," Dean narrowed his eyes at the commercial before flipping to a different channel as he avoided the conversation Sam was trying to have with him. "Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down."

"Dean."

Dean pressed the power button on the remote, shutting the TV off before looking at Sam. "Abby's on her way here," he informed him. "She's gonna stay with Julia while we head off."

"What are you talking about?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. "We're not leaving without Julia, Dean."

"I don't want to leave her, either, Sammy, but..." Dean trailed off and pressed his lips together to hide the emotion that Sam saw brewing in his eyes. "...there's nothing we can do for her."

"No, she's not gonna die, okay?" Sam quickly got defensive. "I'll—I'll find a way to save her. I'll look into every option."

"Sam, the doctors—"

"The doctors don't know the things we do, Dean!" he interrupted his brother.

"And what if you can't find anything, huh?" Dean's voice raised in frustration, his fingers tightening around Julia's hand.

"Then I'm staying with her until the end," Sam's firm statement made Dean pause and lower his eyes.

Dean's vision blurred as he stared at the periwinkle polish on Julia's fingernails. She had been so damn excited to find that color that she blabbed about it for almost an hour before Dean tuned her out by turning up the volume of his music. He wished he hadn't done that. He'd listen to her talk about periwinkle nail polish for days if it meant that she'd be okay.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "We'll stay with her, then," he said quietly, his wet eyes flickering up to meet's Sam's equally sad ones. "and we'll try to find something."

Sam nodded, glad that his brother agreed with him. He sat down on Julia's other side and took her hand, careful not to dislodge her IV. An hour later, when the nurse told them that visiting hours were over, he pretended he didn't see Dean kiss Julia on the forehead before they left.

The field was full of four kinds of flowers this time. Different ones than before; yellow ones on her left, pink ones in front of her, yellow Tulips on her right, and blue behind her. It was the different meanings of the flowers that struck Julia as odd, rather than the amount

Goldenrods for encouragement. Blue salvia for thinking of someone. Yellow tulips for sunshine. Peonies for healing.

Three of them were flowers that you'd find in a hospital giftshop. Ones you'd pick up on your way to visit a loved on in the hospital. When Naomi was in the hospital, Julia would always bring her yellow tulips instead of the bouquets in the gift shop because her mom's smile lit up the room like sunshine.

It was comforting to see the tulips even when she knew something was wrong.

"Julia Ruth."

Julia looked away from the yellow tulips and saw the beam of sun in front of her. Even with the sun hitting the grass a few feet in front of her, the sky around it was dark and stormy. She could see flashes of lightning here and there and rumbles of thunder in the distance.

"What's happening?" she whispered shakily.

She was scared. The last dream of her angel she had like this was the night after her mom died. At that time, she was surrounded only by yellow tulips and an almost black sky. She had taken a look at the flowers around her and started to bawl. Her angel was there to comfort her.

"What's wrong?"

Was it Sam or Dean? Levi, Beth, or Abby? Her dad? Lydia or Taylor? Who was hurt? Who was dying?

"You're in the hospital," the angel told her.

Julia paled in realization. The peonies, the healing. She was relieved, though, that it was her instead of one of her loved ones.

"You were injured on a hunt. You had a heart attack from the electricity that flowed through your body."

She remembered a little. She had shot the taser at the rawhead as it lunged at Dean. The rawhead lit up like a firework and she heard Dean scream her name but that was all she could recall.

A heart attack at twenty years old. Who would have thought? She always knew that hunting was dangerous and she was mostly likely to die at a young age due to her new lifestyle but it was too soon. She'd only been hunting for seven months.

She sure did draw the short straw, huh?

Julia looked back at the dark gray sky. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

She didn't feel as sad as she thought she would. She knew that Heaven awaited her once she passed and she'd be in paradise. It was her loved ones she felt sad for. Beth, Abby, and Levi would lose their little sister only four years after their mother. Her dad would lose his baby girl, her niece an aunt. And Sam and Dean...with their dad gone, all they had left was each other and her.

Maybe that's why most people were afraid of dying, she mused to herself. Because they know that their death really only affects the people they leave behind.

"You're not dying," her angel proclaimed. "Not today, not from this."

As he finished speaking, Julia's hand went to her forehead where there was a sudden pressure and a jolt of energy that came out of nowhere. She waited to feel it again but the sensation was long gone.

"Julia Ruth."

She hadn't realized that she had zoned out, thinking of the strange sensation on her skin.

She focused back on the sun beam. "Are you here to take me to Heaven?"

"No," her angel said simply. "You are Chosen for a reason."

"What?" Julia wrinkled her nose, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"When you wake, there will be a solution," her angel declared. "We will meet again soon."

On the numbered oak door in front of him was a large light-blue sign shaped like a dinosaur skull, a familiar name cut out in the bottom. JONAH. Dean stared at it, perplexed, before looking around at the unfamiliar hallway he was standing in.

The floors were made of white linoleum tiles and the walls were painted a light gray with subway tiles covering the bottom half of them. There were industrial sconces in between the numerous doors that lined the hall. He had no idea where he was. He had never been there before.

Dean turned back to the dinosaur door and cautiously opened it. He slowly stepped into the room, looking around in shock.

It was a nursery. Two of the walls were painted light green, one was the same blue as the sign on the door, and one was covered in a wallpaper with dark blue dinosaurs. The white tiles were covered in a light green area rug with the same blue dinosaurs as the wallpaper. Toys were neatly organized in a toy box in the far-left corner with a rocking chair and a bookshelf next to it. Against the dinosaur wall was a white crib with JONAH painted above it in dark green. On the wall across from the crib was a white changing table that doubled as a dresser.

Why the hell was he in a nursery? What was this place?

A soft cooing noise came from Jonah's crib, startling Dean. He cautiously walked over to it, his eyes widening when he saw that there was an actual baby laying inside of it. Wearing a onesie with a black car on the front, the baby smiled up at him, making a happy noise.

Dean had to admit that Jonah was a cute baby. He had a head full of dark brown hair. His eyes were hazel and his dimples...they were the Winchester dimples. The ones that his dad and Sam shared. A shocked noise came from the back of Dean's throat as the baby wiggled around in the crib, kicking his feet excitedly. Was Jonah his son? Who the hell would he have a son with?

Jonah's face fell when Dean continued to stare down at him in shock. He opened his mouth—his nose wrinkling with a familiarity that Dean couldn't recall—but Dean moved before he could let out a cry.

"Shh..." he cooed to the baby. "It's okay, Daddy's here."

Where the fuck did that come from?

"You gotta be a man about sleeping in your crib, all right?" Dean apparently had no control over his mouth. "You're getting too big to sleep with me and your momma."

Jonah's face smoothed out, happy with the attention his dad was giving him. "Da."

Dean didn't know why but his heart soared with happiness. "Yeah, bud," he smiled down at his son. "I'm your dad."

Jonah fidgeted, one of his curled fists resting against his dimpled cheek. He smiled again and, this time, Dean saw a couple of new teeth popping out of his pink gums.

"If you sleep through the whole night, I'll give you five bucks," Dean dared him. "Can you do that for me and Momma?"

Jonah hummed and Dean grinned. "Good," he answered, satisfied. "Love you, Jonah. Goodnight."

He reached up and turned the mobile over the crib on. Jonah was instantly enraptured by the rotating stuffed dinosaurs, his green eyes lighting up. Dean began to leave the room, switching on the lamp on the changing table, and turning off the overhead light. He took one more look at the nursery before closing the door.

Across from Jonah's door was another room. On the door of number fifteen, there was a sign just like Jonah and Levi's, except it was a red truck with another familiar name carved out in the bottom.

PETER

Maybe this kid was Sam's. Dean opened the door and peeked into the room. It wasn't a nursery like Jonah's room but it still was a kid's room. The light was on already, showcasing the construction theme. The little twin bed was covered in sheets and a comforter with tractors, dump trucks, and cranes all red, yellow, or blue. The walls were a light blue.

On one wall, PETER was spelt out in large red letters. A toy chest was underneath it, along with a dresser and a bookshelf. On the wall across from that was a desk. And on the floor in the middle of an area rug that was designed like a highway, was a freckled blonde toddler wearing pajama pants with lions on them. He wore no shirt and he was playing with Lego set.

"Pete, where's your shirt?" again, Dean didn't know why he was saying anything.

Peter looked up with wide green eyes, identical to Dean's. "Hi, Daddy," he looked very guilty and Dean was instantly suspicious. "Whatcha doing?"

"You're supposed to be bed, buddy," Dean walked over to him and bent down, easily swinging him up into his arms. "Where'd you put your shirt?"

"Momma said I didn't have to wear one," Peter declared innocently before placing a hand on Dean's left cheek. "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"Course I am," Dean assured him; Peter smiled widely, showing off a dimple in his left cheek.

The famous Petersen dimple.

If Dean had any control over his body whatsoever, he might have dropped Peter in realization. He knew three women with those Petersen dimples and one of them was already married with a kid.

So, who did he knock up? Julia or Abby?

As if the universe was answering him, Julia stepped into the room—looking pale, exhausted, and older than her twenty-year-old self—and gave both boys a stern look.

"Peter Samuel, you're supposed to be in bed," she scolded him, placing her hands against her t-shirt clad hips.

And, God, if Dean didn't find that sexy. He'd seen Julia's mom-mode several times before but never had it made him hard like it did now. Was this what happened when you had kids? You get turned on by good parenting?

"Did you say he could sleep without a shirt?" Dean found himself asking her, ignoring the start of his erection in his sweatpants.

Julia rolled her eyes playfully and walked over to them. "Yes," she tickled Peter's bare stomach, making the toddler squeal in delight. "He takes them off anyway. Don't you, sunshine?"

Peter laughed, pushing her manicured hands away from his stomach. "Momma, no!"

Dean's heart soared again and suddenly he was wishing this was real. That he and Julia were together and raising two sons. Two beautiful sons that seemed like great kids. Sons that he already loved with all of his heart.

If this was a dream, Dean didn't want to wake up.

Julia stopped tickling Peter and kissed the boy on the forehead. "You gotta go to sleep or we're not having blueberry pancakes tomorrow."

"No!" Peter whined. "I want them."

"Go to sleep then," Julia dared him with a raised eyebrow. "You know, I heard your dad tell Jonah that he's giving away money to sleep through the night."

"What?"

"Mmhm," Dean hummed. "I guess your brother is gonna have more money in his piggy bank than you..."

"No!" Peter wiggled his legs against Dean's chest, struggling to get down. Dean set him on the floor and he sprinted to his bed. "Okay, I'm sleeping now."

Dean laughed and grabbed Julia's hand, intertwining their fingers. "All right, hotshot. Goodnight."

"Night," Peter chirped, pulling his comforter up to his chin and giving his parents a dimpled smile. "Love you."

"Love you, too, Pete."

"Love you, Peter," Julia promised. "Don't forget that the angels are watching over you."

"Yes, they are!"

Dean and Julia left the room, after turning out the light, and walked down the hallway. Despite the casual way he walked by Julia's side, he was in turmoil. His mom had told him that all the time when he was a kid. The fact that Julia used that same phrase for their son made love swell within his stomach.

God, he wished this was real.

Dean and Julia stopped at room eleven and entered. There were records displayed on one wall, family pictures on the other, and above the king-sized bed was a picture of Dean and Julia of what looked to be their wedding day.

Holy fuck, he married Julia. Since when was he a marriage guy?

"Did you talk to Sam before he went to bed?" Julia asked him, shimmying off the pajama shorts she had been wearing.

"Yeah," Dean answered as he pulled off his shirt.

"And?"

"And he's still feeling a little off," Dean shrugged and then stepped out of his sweatpants. "How are you feeling?"

She sighed tiredly and Dean felt a wave of worry falling over him. "I'm tired and my bones ache a little."

Dean raised his eyebrow. "That's it? I heard you coughing earlier."

"I'll get better, Dean," she assured him, walking over to him and lovingly placing a hand on his cheek. "I was made for this."

Dean grabbed her hand, intertwined their fingers, and bowed his head, his nose grazing against her dimpled cheek. "You were made for me."

What the hell were they even talking about? What was he talking about?

"Yeah, I was," Julia smiled softly and pulled away, looking at him with bloodshot hazel eyes. "Now, are we going to keep talking or are you gonna put me to bed because you look very sexy right now."

Dean chuckled, feeling his cock start to grow once again. "It's because I'm wearing sweatpants, isn't it?"

"It's the sweatpants," she confirmed jokingly.

"Well," Dean kissed her forehead, then her nose, her chin, and then back up to her lips. "Whatever my baby needs," he pressed his hips into her stomach. "What are you thinking tonight?"

Julia sighed against his cheek, her lips trailing across his jaw. "Whatever you want. I just want you."

Dean moaned and reached down to grab her ass, roughly pulling her closer to him. Jesus Christ, he wanted her so bad. He was so hard that he had to remind himself that this was definitely a dream and this was not really him and Julia at all.

Julia's face was overcome with desire and, with a soft moan, she pushed Dean back onto the bed. Dean grinned as she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap and...

"Dean, would you wake up?"

Dean jumped up at Sam's voice, his eyes shooting open.

No, no, no, he thought frantically, seeing that he was back in the motel room in Wyoming. There was no bedroom, there was no Julia, and there were no Peter and Jonah.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes to stop them from filling with tears. That dream...it was a future he wanted to have. An apple-pie life with a couple of kids and his brother at his side. And Julia...she was his wife. His chest filled with grief and longing when he thought about her and those boys.

Julia was dying. She'd never get that life, either.

Sam gave him a weird look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded and rolled out of bed; it was seven in the morning and Sam was already at his laptop, doing intense research to find something to heal Julia. "Find anything yet?"

He remembered doing his own research before he went to bed. He found nothing that would be able to help Julia. It frustrated the hell out of him and scared him, too. Maybe that's why he had that dream...He wanted Julia healthy and to live a long life and his head manifested a little family for them.

Yeah, that's what it was.

"I'm looking into something right now," Sam informed him; Dean raised a curious eyebrow. "Abby called and said something about a specialist in Nebraska."

"Like a heart specialist?" Dean wondered; Sam nodded slowly. "Hmm. Well, is Abby almost here yet?"

"I talked to her an hour ago. She said she was only a hundred or so miles away," Sam said. "She's coming from Bobby's place."

Bobby. Dean hadn't seen Bobby Singer in years. Bobby was a family friend that he and Sam stayed with some over the years but when he and John had a falling out, Dean hadn't seen him since. He missed the hell out of that cranky bastard. He was wicked smart and the father figure he should have had in his life.

"Hey," Sam got his attention when his thoughts trailed off. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Dean shook his head to focus. "I'm just, um, I'm worried about Jules."

Sam sighed and stood up, grabbing a white box off the table and bringing it over to Dean. "Me too," he smiled sympathetically before going back to his seat at the table. "Hey...I was thinking that maybe you should call Dad and Luke."

"Why?" Dean scoffed as he opened the box, smiling slightly when he saw the chocolate glazed doughnuts inside. "Neither of them are gonna answer. In her last call, Beth very angrily told me that her dad wasn't answering any of their calls."

"That's what Abby said, too," Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. "But I think you should try them, anyway. For Julia."

Well, when he put it like that, Dean couldn't refuse. He'd do anything for that stubborn little shortcake.

He called Luke first and wasn't surprised to get his voicemail. "This is Luke Alexander and I am currently unavailable. If this is an emergency, call my daughter, Abby. 630-754-9296. She can help."

Dean scoffed as he ended the call, not bothering to leave a message. His voicemail recording was nearly identical to John's, who didn't pick up, either.

"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235. He can help."

"Hey, Dad, it's Dean," he couldn't help but leave a message for his dad. "I know you probably won't get this but me and Sam need help. It's Julia, Dad. She's really sick and the doctors are saying she's not gonna make it," he sniffed and turned away from Sam, who was watching him carefully. "We're gonna save her, though. Sam, Abby, and I are gonna find something. So, if Luke's with you, you should tell him that she's gonna be okay...All right, just wanted you to know."

As Dean snapped his phone shut and tossed it on his bed, there was a knock on the door. Sam and Dean gave it hesitant looks for a few seconds and there was another knock before Sam got up to open the door.

Abby Petersen's beautiful smile greeted them, her family's signature dimple popping out. It made Dean's heart ache as he remembered Peter's smile.

God, I'm heartbroken over a couple of kids who don't even exist, Dean grumbled mentally.

"Long time no see, Sam. Aren't you all grown up," Abby commented, her eyes sliding up and down Sam's body. Dean grinned at Sam as his cheeks flushed at the down-to-fuck eyes Abby was flashing him.

"God, Abby, it's raining and I'm cold so if you could stop flirting, that'd be great," to Dean and Sam's surprise, Julia appeared behind her older and much taller sister, a disgruntled look on her face.

"Yeah, yeah," Abby rolled her eyes and wrapped her arm around her sister, helping her into the room. Sam took over for her and practically took all of Julia's weight without a problem as Abby shut the door behind them.

"You're supposed to be in the hospital," Dean couldn't help but scold her as he helped Sam sit her down in an empty chair by the table. "What are you doing here?"

"What, are you talking to me now?" Julia grunted in pain as she settled, pulling the hood from her head. She looked worse than the day before; her eyes were darker and there was a large red mark on the left side of her face.

Dean pressed his lips together at her remark, his lips turning down guiltily. He felt so horrible about the way he treated her before and even during the hunt. He felt responsible for what happened; she saved him from the rawhead and he repaid her by not watching her carefully enough. He always hated feeling guilty—it made his stomach hurt. That was the reason why he apologized so quickly when he yelled at Sam or Julia in particular.

"Julia."

Julia grumbled at the warning Abby gave her and answered Dean's original question. "Hospitals freak me out."

Dean's face softened; he grabbed the blanket from his bed and laid it over her lap. It was so strange to see her all bundled up. Usually she ran hot and more often than not, was pushing a blanket away from her. It was kind of lucky, though, since Sam was a cover-hog—so was Dean for that matter.

"Thanks," Julia whispered with a small smile before looking back and forth at the brothers. "Have you guys even slept? You look worse than me."

Dean avoided her eyes as he went to sit on the foot of his bed. Abby joined him, grabbing one of the doughnuts from the box he had forgotten about. As he grabbed the other one, he mumbled, "Had a bad dream."

The only thing bad about that dream was the fact he wasn't in it right now.

"I've been scouring the internet the last twelve hours," Sam informed her, sitting back down in his seat at the table. "And we called every contact in our dad's journal."

Julia gave him a tired yet curious look. "For what?"

"For a way to help you," Abby spoke up before looking over at Sam. "Did you look up that fa—"

"The specialist?" Sam cut her off suspiciously. "Yeah, I did. He's in Gering, Nebraska. Only an hour or two away from here. We should get going, actually..."

"Woah, woah, woah," Julia shook her head weakly. "I don't want to do tests and I don't want to be poked and prodded. Can't a girl die in peace?"

"You're not dying," Dean said gruffly; all eyes turned at him in shock but he stood up and started repacking his bag. "Come on. We're on the road in ten."

Dean glared at the tent that he and Sam had driven up to. A large sign was declaring that the preacher, Roy LeGrange, was a faith healer...not a heart specialist like Sam led him to believe. It was bullshit—there were no such thing as a faith healer or miracles like the sign was promising.

"Man, you are a lying bastard," Dean glared at Sam as Abby's Jeep Liberty pulled up in the mud beside the Impala. "You said we were going to see a doctor."

"I said specialist, Dean," Sam corrected him. "It's not my fault you assumed it was a doctor."

Dean rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"Besides," Sam added. "I think Julia would be more comfortable here. She's doesn't like hospitals, especially since—"

"Since Naomi, I know," Dean grumbled, ignoring the thoughtful smile on Sam's face.

He got out of the car and went straight to Julia's side of Abby's Jeep, opening the door for her. To his surprise, and Sam's immense shock, Julia didn't look happy to be here, either.

Sam's face fell. "You don't like faith healers, either?"

"Oh, God, don't," Abby warned them as she came around the Jeep, walking carefully in the thick mud. "She started complaining as soon as she saw that sign."

"Faith healers aren't real!" Julia exclaimed as strongly as she could. "The only person who could heal by faith was Jesus and I doubt that he would go by the name of Roy if he came back already."

Dean snickered as he wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her get down from her seat. He continued to hold onto her when her feet were planting on the ground, knowing that she would need some help to the tent. She was kind of clumsy already but if mud was in the picture, she was done for.

"And I just cleaned these," Julia pouted down at her white converse.

"I'll get you new ones," Sam promised as the four of them started walking toward the tent. "Look, J, this guy is supposed to be the real deal."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Julia muttered bitterly.

An old lady heard her comment. "Reverend LeGrange is a great man," she said indignantly.

"Yeah, keep walking, lady," Dean snapped at her as he helped Julia past a protester, who was complaining about the reverend cheating people out of money, and the cop who was dealing with him. "I take it he's not part of the flock."

"When people see something they can't explain, there's controversy," Sam shrugged.

"Come on, Sam, a faith healer?" even Julia didn't want to do this. It was just something that she thought wasn't real. People took advantage of religious phrases sometimes and faith healers were one of those. They used the faith of naïve people to fatten their wallets.

"Jules, Elijah and Paul healed people in the Bible," Abby pointed out.

Julia shook her head. "Those instances were metaphorical," she disagreed. "They didn't physically heal anyone. They healed them spiritually."

"I don't understand," Sam shook his head at her as they got nearer to the tent. "You believe in God and you're a practicing Christian. Why don't you have faith?"

"I do have faith," she snapped at him; it was like Sam wasn't listening to her. "I have faith in God. The fact that I'm actually alive is an example of God's grace, okay? Just because I don't believe in faith healers, doesn't mean that I—"

"Maybe God works through the faith healers," a blonde girl interrupted Julia, giving the four of them a sweet smile. "Fills them with the Holy Spirit like he did with Jesus."

"Interesting thought," Julia humored her. If that's what the girl wanted to believe, fine. She was an absolute stranger and Julia wasn't the type of person to rag on beliefs that were different than hers. The only reason she was having trouble with Sam was because he was only hoping that this guy would magically heal her.

Quite honestly, she thought that Abby and Sam were in denial about the fact that she was going to die. The only reason she got out of the car was because she didn't want to upset them. She wanted to make the transition of her death easier on them, so she'd go along for now.

"I'm Julia," she introduced herself to the girl and then gestured to the others. "This is my sister, Abby, and that's Sam and Dean."

"Layla," she replied kindly. "and I think you'll be surprised by Reverend LeGrange. God works in mysterious ways, you know."

"True," Julia conceded.

"I better get in there," Layla nodded toward the tent as an older lady walked up to her side. "It's starting soon."

As Layla and the older woman walked into the tent together, Dean muttered, "I bet she works in mysterious ways...Ouch, what the fuck, Abby?"

Julia winced at the dirty looks some people in line were giving them. She turned to Dean and Abby, who had whacked him in the back of his head at his nasty comment, and glared.

"We're at a place of worship," she reminded him through gritted teeth.

Dean had the courtesy to look sheepish. "Sorry."

Julia, Dean, Sam, and Abby entered the tent, the latter two looking for seats in the front so Julia would have a better chance of getting picked by the reverend. Dean's eyes wandered around the tent, scoffing when he saw the camera set up in the corner.

"Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over," he muttered bitterly.

Sam ignored him, as did Julia and Abby, and gestured toward the front of the tent. "Come on."

He grabbed Julia away from Dean's grasp and helped her walk up the aisle to the second row. There just happened to be only three empty seats, so Dean was forced to sit his skeptical ass down in a row toward the back. He and Abby made Julia sit in the aisle seat right behind Layla and her mother.

An old man was led onto the stage, dressed in a nice suit and dark glasses. He was blind but it didn't mean he was helpless. As his wife took a seat at the piano and started to play a welcoming tune, Reverend LeGrange faced the crowd with a kind smile.

"Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news," Roy started his sermon. "Never seems good, does it?"

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

"Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act," Roy continued as Julia eyed the strange crosses on the table behind him. There was one in particular that she didn't like the look of—it didn't look like anything she had seen before.

"But I say to you, God is watching!"

"Yes, he is," someone murmured from the row behind them.

"God rewards the good and he punishes the corrupt," the crowd hummed again and Roy went on, "It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."

"Amen, amen!"

"And today, the Lord is guiding me to one heart in particular," Roy announced. "the young lady in the second row, here."

Julia looked away from the strange cross she was trying to place and over to Reverend LeGrange. Abby was nudging her arm excitedly and Sam looked ecstatic that the reverend picked her.

"What's your name, young lady?" Roy asked as Sue Ann stood from the piano.

Julia cleared her throat. "Julia."

"Julia Ruth," Roy stated and her eyes widened in absolute shock. How he would know her middle name was beyond her. Maybe she was wrong about faith healers after all. Maybe Layla had been right. "Julia, I want you to come up here with me."

The congregation started cheering at the reverend's announcement. Julia hesitated. What made her so special that she would be healed before the others in this tent? It didn't feel right.

"I, uh—"

"You came here to be healed, didn't you?" Roy asked expectantly as Sue Ann moved to the middle of the stage to usher Julia to him.

As Abby nudged her harshly, she said, "Yes."

The crowd cheered again, clapping enthusiastically.

"The Lord has chosen you, Julia Ruth," Roy told her.

Chosen. Hadn't she heard that recently?

Sam leaned around Abby to hiss at her, "Get up there."

Julia slowly got up from her chair and walked up to the stage. She didn't know what was going to happen or if she was actually going to be healed but she had to try, at least. She owed it to her loved ones to try.

Sue Ann grabbed her hand as she got to the steps and helped her onto the stage. She made sure she was right where Roy could reach her.

"You ready?" Roy asked her quietly.

"I-I'm nervous," she hesitated, stammering slightly.

"There's no need to be, Julia Ruth," Roy assured her before turning back to the congregation. "Pray with me, friends."

Julia bowered her head to pray as Roy placed his hand on her shoulder. The energy she was reading off of him was nice and pure-intentioned but there was something around the tent that didn't feel right.

She silently prayed to God and her guardian angel, apologizing for not having faith in her bad times like her mother always told her to. She then pleaded for this to work because she couldn't stand to see the sad faces that Sam, Abby, and Dean would give her if it didn't.

"All right, now," Roy whispered. "All right, now."

The hand on her shoulder slid up to the side of her face, right over the bruise on her cheek. Almost immediately, her heart started to race and her knees weakened. Her body broke out into a cold sweat and her vision blurred as she fell to her knees on the stage.

She could hear murmurs from the crowd but she couldn't really focus on them. A weird feeling came over her the more Roy prayed to heal her. It felt cold; it felt like death.

Her vision went black and it was only a minutes later that she woke up. She had passed out on stage, causing Sam, Dean, and Abby to rush up to her to make sure she was all right.

Dean and Abby were asking her something but she couldn't hear what it was. There was buzzing in her ears and her blurry eyes focused above their shoulders where a man stood. As her vision cleared, she saw that he wasn't really a man. He looked more like a spirit—and he was the one giving off the cold energy.

And then the man disappeared.

"Abby, I don't feel right," Julia confessed to her sister as they waited for the doctor to come in with her results.

"What?" Abby gave her an alarmed look as she walked over to the bed she was sitting on. "I thought you said you feel okay?"

"I feel fine, that's the problem," Julia sighed.

Something wasn't right about that man that she saw. And, according to Dean, who she asked when they went to get dinner for everyone the previous night, he didn't see a man behind Roy at all. Everything just seemed suspicious to her. It didn't feel right.

"What do you mean?"

"I—"

Before Julia could tell Abby what was wrong, the doctor walked into the exam room. She held a file in her hands, flipping through the results of the tests she had taken to make sure everything was all right with her heart.

"Well, according to all your tests, there's nothing wrong with your heart," the woman told her with a smile. "No sign there ever was—not that a woman your age should be having heart trouble..." her smile fell slightly. "but I've seen heart issues in patients your age before. It's strange..."

"What is?" Abby asked, furrowed her eyebrows.

"Just yesterday, a young guy in his twenties and athletic had a heart attack," the doctor informed them. "Out of nowhere. No previous issues."

Julia was silent for almost the whole way back to the motel, ignoring Abby's tries for conversation. The only reason she spoke was to call Beth and then Levi to inform them that her heart was better. When they got back, Julia went straight to the room she was sharing with her sister, allowing Abby to share the news with Sam and Dean.

She curled up on her bed, facing the bathroom and pulling her blanket up over her head. She felt horrible, absolutely horrible—and it wasn't physically. She honestly did not think it was a coincidence that the same day her heart condition was healed, someone dropped dead in town with the same thing. That didn't occur naturally.

Something was off about this whole faith healing thing and she was pretty sure that it started with the man she had seen behind Roy after he healed her.

"Julia," Sam entered the room; Julia didn't take the blanket off her bed. "How are you feeling?"

She grunted in response, making him sigh.

"Maybe it was a coincidence about the guy, J," he offered. "I mean, people's hearts give out all the time."

"No, they don't, Sam," Julia grumbled.

"I don't understand why we have to look this one in the mouth," Sam grew frustrated. "Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?"

Julia rolled her eyes, annoyed. "Just go away, Sam!"

Sam sighed dramatically and she heard him say something to Abby and Dean that he couldn't through to her. She wondered who would come in next—Abby or Dean? She assumed it would be Abby because even though she didn't like the sappy or touchy-feely thing, she was better at it than Dean.

It wasn't Abby who came in and ripped the blanket off of her.

"Dean!" she huffed when she looked up and saw him standing above her, slipped into the small amount of space between the bed and the outside of the bathroom. "Stop."

"I don't think so, shortcake."

Julia angrily pursed her lips and flipped over, stubbornly facing the other direction. Dean scoffed—whether it was from amusement or frustration, she didn't know—and literally climbed over her onto the side she was facing. He rearranged himself so he was on his side, facing her.

She could see every freckle on his stupid attractive face. She hated to admit it because she wanted to be angry that this had happened but just the sight of him calmed her down. It wasn't fair.

"Tell me what's going on with you, Junior."

"That feeling I had..."

"The one you told me about last night?" Dean recalled. "The cold energy or whatever behind Roy."

Julia nodded, kinda touched that he listened to her ramble on and on. "Dean, it can't be a coincidence about that guy."

"Sam said he didn't see anything."

"Well, he doesn't have the same abilities I do, does he?" she got defensive.

"Hey," Dean gave her a stern look that had her quieting down. "I'm on your side, shortcake. If you saw something, I believe you."

Julia smiled and reached out, poking the cleft of his chin; Dean's eyes widened in response and but he didn't look uncomfortable. "Thanks, D."

"So, what do you want to do?" Dean asked her. "You wanna go visit the reverend?"

"Do you think it would help?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah and I can get Sammy and Abby to look into the guy's death, okay?"

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go with you, of course."

"So, how are you feeling, Julia Ruth?" Roy asked Julia as she and Dean sat in the seats that Sue Ann offered them in his office.

She wished she knew how he knew that name. The only other person who called her by her first and middle name—other than her parents or siblings when she did something bad—was her guardian angel.

"I'm better," Julia gave Sue Ann a grateful smile as she passed her a glass of sweet tea. "Um, actually, I was wondering if you could answer some questions I have."

"She has this thing where she'll do anything to learn what she can't understand," Dean added as he was passed a glass of sweet tea, too. "She wants to make sense of what happened."

"A miracle is what happened," Sue Ann smiled as she sat in the chair next to Roy. "Miracles come so often around Roy."

Julia smiled, feeling awkward as Roy continued to face her like he was studying her in some way. She knew he was blind but if he knew her middle name, what else could he know about her. "Looks like it."

"When did they start?" Dean asked Roy. "The miracles."

"Woke up one morning, stone blind," Roy shared. "Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh..." he paused. "we prayed for a miracle. I was weak but I told Sue Ann, you just keep on praying."

"My mom used to say that you had to faith in the bad times to see the good times," Julia commented with a fond smile.

Roy grinned. "First Peter, chapter four, verse thirteen: But rejoice in as much you participate in the sufferings of Christ so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed."

Julia nodded. "Or Romans, chapter five, verse three: Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance."

"You know your stuff, Julia Ruth," Roy said, impressed. Sue Ann beamed at her as he continued the story about the beginnings of his miracles. "So, anyway, I went into a coma and the doctors said I wouldn't wake up. But I did and the cancer was gone. If it wasn't for these eyes—" he took off his glasses to showcase his dazed eyes. "—no one would believe I ever had it."

"And suddenly you could heal people?" Dean spoke up.

"I discovered it afterward, yes," Roy confirmed as he put his glasses back on. "God's blessed me in many ways."

"His flock just swelled overnight," Sue Ann seemed more concern with Roy's popularity than the so-called miracles. "and this is just the beginning."

Dean nodded slowly, giving Sue Ann a suspicious look.

"Can I ask you a couple more questions?"

"Of course you can," Roy said pleasantly.

"Why did you pick me?" Julia wondered quietly. "Out of all the other sick people, why save me?"

Roy was quiet for a few seconds as he gathered his thoughts. "I knew that you were coming this morning, Julia Ruth," he finally said. "I just woke up and knew that you were gonna be in my tent today and the Lord wanted me to use my power to heal you."

Julia blanched, her eyes widening in shock.

"And when the Lord guided me to look into your heart, I could see why," Roy continued. "You have an important purpose in this life—a job to do that isn't finished. I see the same thing in you, too, Dean."

Dean wasn't expecting that. "You do?"

"Of course, I do," Roy confirmed. "Now, what was your other question, sweetheart?"

"I was wondering how you knew my middle name was Ruth."

"Well, like before I just knew," Roy answered. "God works in mysterious ways."

"Yes, he does," Julia nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you so much for your time."

Sue Ann escorted them out of the house, asking about her biblical knowledge as they went. Julia was just explaining that she was graduating with a double major of religion and linguistics when stepped out onto the porch and Layla and her mother happened be walking up the steps at the same time.

"Dean, Julia, hey," Layla greeted them kindly. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel better," Julia forced a smile, still feeling very conflicted about the whole thing.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked the blonde curiously.

Layla hesitated. "You know, my mom," she explained as her mother stepped past Julia and Dean to talk to Sue Ann. "She wanted to talk to the reverend."

"Layla!" Sue Ann called for the younger blonde.

"Yes," Layla joined her mother on the higher steps. "I'm here again."

"Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting," Sue Ann said apologetically. "He won't be seeing anyone else right now."

"Sue Ann, please," Layla's mother begged. "This is our sixth time, he's got to see us."

"Roy is well aware of Layla's situation," Sue Ann began patiently. "and he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke."

Sue Ann gave her one last smile and placed a supporting hand on Layla's shoulder because walking back into her house. Mrs. Rourke turned around to walk back down the steps, looking very disgruntled.

"Why are you still even here?" Mrs. Rourke asked, glaring at Julia. "You got what you wanted."

"Hey," Dean warned her at the same time as Layla sighed, "Mom, stop."

"No, Layla, this is too much," Mrs. Rourke snapped at her daughter. "We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers—" she glared at Julia. "—over you... I just can't pray any harder."

Julia frowned, looking over at Layla in concern. "Layla, what's wrong?"

Layla inhaled sharply. "I have this thing..."

"It's a brain tumor," Mrs. Rourke elaborated when she paused. "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say—"

Layla cut her mother off, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Layla assured her.

"No, it isn't," Mrs. Rourke denied, turning back to Julia. "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?"

Julia couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

"You're not thinking about what Layla's mom said, right?"

Julia didn't reply to Dean right away, keeping her forehead pressed against the passenger window. How could she not think about what Mrs. Rourke said? It was a valid question, especially since her daughter was only supposed to live for six more months. Julia's life wasn't any more important than Layla's.

"You are, aren't you?" Dean's eyes left the road to look at her; she avoided his gaze. "Julia..."

"Well, she was right," she turned to him; he had looked back at the road but Julia was glad because she didn't want to get into a car accident or look back at her with those green eyes that would get her to spill her guts more than she already had.

She didn't like sharing her negative thoughts. And he was going to bother her about it, she was going to call him a hypocrite—he certainly didn't share what was going on in that head of his.

He didn't bother her about it, though. "You have your iPod?" when she nodded, held out an expectant hand. "Give it."

Julia gave him a strange look but dug it out of her purse, handing it over. He placed it on his thigh and, with one hand, dug into the cubby under the radio where Sam kept their iPod jack. He plugged everything in and kept his eyes on the road as he scrolled through her music.

She couldn't help but smile at the familiar piano intro. And then, when Dean opened his mouth to sing, she giggled.

"Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band..." he sung off tune with but he didn't care; he was doing this to cheer her up. He pointed at her as he continued, "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man."

There was a stinging in Julia's eyes as she watched him sing loudly for her. She was so touched that he was doing this. Dean always sang along to his music but it was never this kind of music. And this song, her mom's favorite song...

"But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near, only you—sing along, Jules!" Dean's voice got louder as the music built up. "and you can hear me and I say softly, slowly...all together, now!"

"Hold me closer, tiny dancer!" Julia loudly joined in with him, her smile so large it hurt her mouth. "Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today..."

Her mood dropped when they got back to the motel and Abby and Sam told them what they found out about the guy who had the heart attack the day before.

"Marshall Hall died at four-seventeen," Abby said somberly.

Julia sighed and plopped down at the foot of Sam's bed. "The exact same time I was healed."

"Yeah."

"I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed—six people over the past year—and I cross-checked them with the local obits," Sam spoke up from behind his laptop. "Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptoms LeGrange was healing at the time."

"Someone's healed of cancer, someone dies of cancer?" Dean assumed.

Sam nodded. "Somehow, LeGrange is trading a life for another."

Julia wrinkled her nose, pressure building behind her eyes. Her stomach twisted nauseously. Marshall Hall died to save her. An innocent man was dead because of her. It was like she took a knife and stabbed him in the heart herself.

"You shouldn't have brought me here," she whispered thickly, wiping at her eyes before any tears could fall.

"We didn't know, Jules," Abby moved to sit by her, taking one of her hands. "We were just trying to save your life."

"An innocent man is dead because of me."

"Julia, the guy probably would've died anyway and someone else would have been healed," Sam tried to make her feel better; he didn't. "What I don't understand is how Roy is doing it. How is he trading a life for a life?"

"Oh, he's not doing it," Dean's voice was low in anger. "Something else is doing it for him."

Sam gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Remember the old man you saw on stage, Jules?" when Dean looked at her, she nodded. "When you told me about it, I didn't want to believe it but deep down I knew."

"You knew what?" Abby wondered. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Abby," Dean prompted her. "There's only one thing that can give and take life like that."

Abby inhaled sharply. "A reaper."

Dean nodded. "Exactly."

"You really think it's the Grim Reaper?" Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?"

"No, not the reaper, a reaper," Dean corrected him. "There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on Earth. They go by a hundred different names. It's possible that there's more than one of them."

"But J said she saw a dude in a suit," Sam reminded him.

"What, you think he should have been working the whole black-robe thing?"

"Sam, the clock stopped," Abby stated. "Reapers stop time and you can only see them when they're coming at you, which is why Julia could see it but not any of us."

"Maybe," Sam still wasn't convinced. He looked to Julia for help but she was staring down at her lap; he could tell by the faraway look in her hazel eyes that she wasn't listening.

"There's nothing else it could be, Sam," Dean said harshly as Julia focused back in. "The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

"What about that cross?" Julia suggested.

"The one with a circle around the top?" Sam asked; she nodded.

Dean gave them a confused look. "What?"

"There was a weird cross at the church," Sam explained as he pulled a pack of cards off the table, rifling through them. "I knew I had seen it before. Here."

He handed Dean a specific card. Dean looked it over and snorted. "A Tarot?"

"Let me see," Abby left her spot next to Julia to grab the card Dean was looking at. "Yeah, it makes sense. A Tarot dates back to the early Christian era when some priests were still using magic. A few of them veered into dark stuff—Necromancy, how to push death away, how to cause it..."

"So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper."

"If he is, he's riding the whirlwind," Sam took the card back from Abby. "It's like putting a dog leash on a Great White."

"Honestly, I don't think Roy's doing it," Julia spoke up, earning her three shocked looks.

Abby raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"When Dean and I went to talk to him, I could sense that he was telling the truth," Julia explained. "I think he truly believes that he's the one actually healing people."

"Okay," Sam knew to trust Julia when she spoke up about her abilities. "so, who's doing it?"

Julia looked over at Dean. "The one who seemed more worried about Roy's so-called flock."

Dean pressed his lips together. "Sue Ann."

"The wife?" Abby asked skeptically.

"Even when Roy and Julia were comparing bibles verses, she said only one thing," Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "and it was about Roy's popularity."

"She's got a self-important vibe," Julia added. "What if it's because she's picking people she thinks aren't moral?"

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Could be."

"Okay, so we stop Sue Ann," Dean declared.

"How?"

"You know how," Dean answered Sam.

"Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Dean?" Sam said incredulously. "We can't kill Roy."

"I agree with Dean," Abby added her two cents. "She's playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book."

"We're not going to kill a human being!" Sam protested. "We do that and we're no better than she it."

"Okay, so we can't kill Sue Ann, we can't kill death," Dean sighed, pursing his lips in displeasure. "Any bright ideas, college boy?"

Sam gave Dean a dirty look but rose to the challenge. "Okay, if Sue Ann's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta figure out what it is and how to break it."

In the end, they stopped Sue Ann. The reaper was released from her hold and turned the tables back on her, killing her. The only downside of the whole thing was that Layla was just about to be healed and now she wouldn't at all. Finishing the case was bittersweet but in the end, they did the right thing. Sue Ann was playing God and she had needed to be stopped.

Now that everything was done, Abby was taking her leave from Julia and the Winchesters.

"Be careful," Julia pulled her sister into a hug as all four of them stood in the motel parking lot.

"You too," Abby kissed her forehead. "Don't let those boys get you into any more trouble."

"Hey, she does that all by herself," Dean spoke up, sending the sisters an innocent look. "She's a troublemaker."

"True."

"What? I am not!"

"Mmhm," Abby rolled her eyes and nudged Julia's shoulder. "See you in a few weeks?"

"Yeah," Julia confirmed. "Hey, what are you getting Levi? I haven't come up with anything."

"You know how he is," Abby rolled her eyes; their big brother was as serious as they come. He was quiet and he kept to himself, not having many other interests other than work or the gym. "but I'm paying for a year of his gym membership."

"Oh, that's good," Julia pouted, wishing that she would have come up with that. "Well, I'm sure I'll figure it out."

Abby nodded and then turned to Sam and Dean. "Sam, Dean, pleasure to see you two, as always. Take care of my baby sister."

"We will," Sam promised her with a smile. "Bye, Abby."

Abby winked at him, making Dean smirk at his brother, and then smiled at Julia one more time. "Love you, sis."

"Love you, too."

An hour later, in the backseat of the Impala, Julia fell into a deep sleep.

The four types flowers that had filled the field were gone. It was just a grassy field on a sunny day with her sitting in the middle. Julia looked up expectantly, waiting for her angel to make an appearance.

And he did.

"I told you, Julia Ruth. You are Chosen."

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

20 notes · View notes

thatonecurlygirl · 6 years

Note

Can I request something where the reader is like 11 and she comes to town to find 11 and ends up staying with hopper and Steve treats her like a sister but billy is head over heals in love with her. Plleeeaaassseee

Runaway

A/N: Actually thinking about possibly turning this into a series. Loved the request! Thanks, anon❤️.

You broke through the edge of the woods, coming to an empty road. You stand there for a moment trying to decide whether to venture left or right, trying to get to your destination without getting caught or traveling too close to certain places proved a little difficult and you were somewhat lost. Stepping onto the pavement, you turn and walk left down the road. It’s a while – around fifteen minutes– before you find your way to the big building that reads ‘Hawkins High School’. Scanning the parking lot, your eyes find the vehicle you’ve seen only a few times prior to today. You quickly make your way to the vehicle and slip into the backseat.

When the bell rings to dismiss everyone from their classes and make their way home you slump down in the back so so no one sees you. You are out on a mission and made it back to the place you promised yourself you would never return to, you’ve come too far to get caught now. You lie back there for a while and you don’t sit up until you hear the door open and close and the engine roar to life.

“Steve? Steve Harrington?” You ask as you sit up in the backseat, nearly giving him a heart attack.

“Who are you and how do you know my name?” Steve asks the stranger, obviously freaked out as he turns to get a good look at you.

“You know Jane and I need you to take me to her.” You say, ignoring his question.

“Again… Who are you? How do you know my name?” He annunciates every word as he watches your face contort in annoyance.

“I’m number 004 but I prefer (y/n). I can feel the past and see the future and frankly the latter is about to get pretty scary.” You explain, rolling up your sleeve to show the numbers tattoos on your arm.

“So you are like a psychic and you can see the past too?” Dustin asks.

“I prefer the term seer (pronounced see-er) or visionary and not so much see the past but feel. I can feel your most prominent emotions and the auras of … places.” You explain. “Can I?” You ask, reaching your hand out only inches from his.

“Yeah!”

You place your hand in his and close your eyes. An overwhelmingly giddy feeling washes over you and you open your eyes with a wide smile on your face. You squeeze his hand before letting go, the feeling settling.

“You’re pretty excited aren’t you?” You giggle.

“So now that everyone is here, tell us why you came here,” Hopper says as he leans against the counter in the cabin everyone is gathered in.

“So Kali and Jane weren’t the only ones to escape. They weren’t so good with security when it came to… special children. A handful of had escaped, some of us didn’t make it very long though. I have managed to keep a low profile by bouncing from place to place and staying far from here but I had a vision… they’re coming.” You look at Jane who sits there with a scared and equally confused look on her face.

“Who? Who is coming and how do we know we can trust you?” Nancy asks from the corner, standing beside Jonathan.

“Well… Nancy, I have absolutely nothing but danger to gain by showing up here. Take me for my word or not they are coming and you all need to prepare because they will stop at nothing to erase any evidence of us.” You warn.

“Who the hell are they?” Max asks throwing her hands in the air.

“Papa…” Jane whispers and you turn to her with a nod.

“No, he’s dead. He died.” Mike shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed as he looks between you and Jane.

“Apparently he didn’t and he has our brother, 000 the first of us to be experimented on. He’s dangerous, he’s the one who tore the interdimensional rift between here and the other place.” You explain. “If they find us, they will try all they can to kill us and they are coming for Jane. She can’t do it on her own, I’ve seen her try and it ends badly. I don’t know what I could possibly do to help but I’m here.”

“So when is all of this supposed to happen?” Joyce asks, squeezing Will’s shoulders gently.

“Soon?” You shrug. “I’m not completely sure. I just know there will be a storm the day before it happens. The sky will get really dark and there will be crazy amounts of lightning with almost a hellish-red tint. We’ll know when it happens because that’s 000.”

“Great, this is perfect. I thought all this was over with when she closed the gate.” Steve groans.

“Not yet.” You sigh.

“So now that you’re here and helping, that changes your vision, right?” Mike asks, wide-eyed and concerned.

“I hope so.”

“I don’t understand why you are brought me here.” You say, mindlessly running your fingers around the shelves of food as you walk down the aisle.

“I promised Hopper I would bring you to find some food you like and pick Jane up some more eggos. So grab whatever looks good.” Steve says as he reaches into the freezer and grabs four boxes of eggos.

You travel up and down the aisles searching for food, not too expensive but something you’d like. You grab a box of Strawberry Poptarts, a can of Pringles, Pizza Rolls and a few other things, including a handful of candy. Making your way back to Steve and the cart, you dump your finding in and look at him with a nod.

Steve pays for the groceries with the money Hopper gave him and you head outside, the air-conditioned grocery store making your skin cold. You step into the warm, late Spring air and sigh at the feeling of the barely-there humidity on your skin just as someone brushes by you. A skin-to-skin touch for barely a microsecond sends a jolt of resentment bouncing from them to the pit of your stomach. You look up to see them turned around looking dead at you. You stare into the eyes of a beautiful guy about the same age as you.

“My God, who are you?” He asks with a wide smile and eyes to match.

“I’m (y/n).” You smile back.

“You new here?” He asks as he takes a step closer to you, leaning against the brick wall.

“No, just visiting some family and friends.” You fidget with your fingers as you look around seeing Steve open up the door with grocery bags on his arms.

“Oh so is Harrington your boyfriend or something?” The guy asks and you shake your head.

“Billy, what are you doing?” Steve asks, putting the groceries in the backseat and turning to look at him.

“Talking to my new, gorgeous friend here.” He winks causing a deep blush to rise to your cheeks.

He smiles at the way the pink tint rises up your neck and to your face. He found it pretty adorable, especially on you. He isn’t really sure what it is but there is something about you that just caught his attention and your smile just brought him in. You are so beautiful it could be a crime and boy was he a willing to be your Clyde in a partnership gone awry in all the right – or fun– ways. He is so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice your temporary spacing off.

“See you later?” He suggests with a smug smirk.

“Absolutely.” You say with a smile, slipping into the passenger seat of Steve’s car.

“Absolutely,” he mocks you as he gets in, shutting the door behind himself. “What the hell is that about? You have to stay away from him (y/n), he’s bad news.” Steve starts up the car.

“No can do, we need him. He’s going to be an essential part in helping us.” You smile, buckling up and waving at Billy as you pass him.

“Shit.” Steve grumbles.

205 notes · View notes

thekrazykeke · 6 years

Photo

I love this man. To be honest, I’ma hoe for all of them men in Black Panther, so it’s whatever. Every single one of them can get it, and I don’t even know who I want to take me first, Erik or T’Challa? ....Hm, both. Both is good. This chapter is potentially, likely, triggering for some people. Please read this with caution and know that my inbox and IM is always open, for anyone, at any time.

You’re not bothering me. Never think you are bothering me.

Continued from here, boo.

The minute the apartment door swung open, your eyes snap to Nadia’s face, and you see it, the bruise the size of a fist swelling up her right eye.

“Where is he?”

“Let’s talk inside.” Nadia’s hand on yours is firm as she tugged you in, using her hair to shield the bruise from view; the motion too familiar, practiced. The organ in your chest throbbed with pain and you think you’re about to have a panic attack or something.

"Where is that nigga, is he here?” Your hands clench then unclench, and you can’t focus on one thing, eyes darting around the room, categorizing how the living room is trashed; broken glass shards sprinkled everywhere, TV broken, a hole or two punched in the walls.

It’s a mess.

“Calm down, Y/N.” Nadia says, voice entirely too calm, nonchalant.

“Is. That. Nigga. Here?” You enunciate each word forcefully, eyes widened and crazed, angry.

“He not here. Simmer down already, shit.” Exhausted already by the conversation, she flopped down on the couch. “I called you because I needed your advice.”

“Waterboard that no good ass nigga.” You immediately suggest, taking a seat beside her.

“What, no. That’s,” she laughs, “That’s crazy. Y/N, stop it. Be serious.”

You aren’t laughing. “I’m deadass. I know somebody who know somebody. They’ll snatch that bitch nigga up off the street, rough his punk ass up, and--”

Nadia couldn’t listen anymore. “I’m the one who started it by spitting in his face!”

“...The fuck. Why would you do that?” Almost always joking, Nadia wasn’t somebody who deliberately provoked people, or at least, she didn’t start something she couldn’t slick-talk her way out of. “Spitting on people is nasty, yo.”

“He dared me to do it. And I was just...” Sighing explosively, she ran her fingers through her hair. “...I found a pregnancy test in the bathroom trash, and I know it ain’t yours. You barely here, for one, and I can’t see you or Erik being that careless.”

And you had an IUD, but still. Making a motion for her to continue, "So the muthafucka got his side bitch pregnant, and you got pissed.”

For the next half hour, you listen to her with a sympathetic ear as she told you that for a long time, things had been rocky between Travis and herself. He had not intentions of settling down -- with her, though he loved to lead her on with a carrot-stick maneuver and saying he might, he might, he might, while fucking around on her. He knew about the hookup she’d had with Erik and all the other times, with other people, while they’d been on a break. According to Nadia, the guy even made fun of her naivety in thinking he’d marry ‘a woman whose legs were always wide open’. The hypocritical dipshit.

That’s why she spat on him.

Couldn’t really blame her for that, not really.

“The girl he got pregnant, she’s only twenty one, Y/N. Twenty one...”, Shaking her head, Nadia laughed.

“Hey, hey, hey.” As tears stung her eyelashes and her voice wobbled, you reached out, pulling her towards you for a half hug. “It’s okay. Fuck that dude, aigh’t? I know people say it all the time, but you are going to find someone and be happy.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You are a phenomenal woman and someone is going to recognize you for your worth. Don’t let some idiot take that away from you. You hear me?” Hot tears warmed your shirt and you rocked her gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise.”

“I ain’t got nobody no more...”

“It’s okay...”

Honestly, after that whole experience, you were drained. The thought of going out and being sociable, it made the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. Nadia wasn’t hearing that though.

“B i t c h! This is an important milestone in your relationship. Meeting a family member?” Shaking her head, an ice pack over the swollen area, she gave you a thumbs up and painfully sincere smile, “Girl, if I was you, I wouldn’t have even brought my thick ass over here to deal with my bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, Nadia.” You interjected, for the fiftieth time. “You my friend and you needed me. Case closed.”

“Whatever. I’m good. I’m gonna sit here and try and figure out who I can pay off to try and fix these damages before the landlord see this shit.” Tilting her head back, she sank more comfortably into the couch. “Forreal, you should go. See what’s good wit Erik and this mystery family member, actually find out what Erik does for a living. I’m betting it’s something physical. His arms hella strong.”

“Bitch.” You elbow her gently.

“What? I’ma single pringle now, so I can look,” Nadia said defensively. “It’s not like he would notice me anyway. The nigga got eyes for you only. It’s cute as fuck, keeping it one hunned.” Although you didn’t want to leave Nadia alone, she took your cellphone and texted Erik to come get you.

When he came to pick you up, she all but shoved you out the door.

“You still gon do this wit me, right? Meeting my cuz?” Erik could tell what was up immediately. “I can reschedule, it ain’t nothing.”

And he would, you realized, he cared for your personal comfort more than what his cousin would think. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hands finding the nape of his neck, you tilt your head up and he took the hint, kissing you. “You don’t have to reschedule. So, where is this dinner taking place?”

Turns out that it’s the Queen’s Cove, the most expensive hotel in the area. Some of the most important political figures and celebrities stayed there. Fuck, even Obama and Michelle had spent two nights there! You were internally spazzing out, mind going one hundred miles an hour, wondering exactly who Erik’s cousin was, who Erik was--

‘I’ll find out tonight. To-night. OMG. That’s not enough time! Holy fucking shit! Oh. mah. Gawd. Chill, Y/N. Just. chill.’

Calling up every ounce of zen in your body that you had, you manage to smile at Erik who’s eyeing you warily, probably catching the goofy, weird expressions you’d made while wigging out.

"Clothes, we both need new clothes.” You say decisively.

“I don’t really--”

“Nigga, bring ya ass on!”

“Aigh’t already, damn!”

After an exhausting rest of the afternoon spent looking for the perfect outfit, Erik dropped you off at your favorite salon to get your hair and nails done. It was a last minute walk in appointment and Chantay wasn’t the happiest seeing you -- until she saw the amount of money you were paying her. While she worked her magic, you and Breanna texted back and forth, with y’all going through potential jobs and reasons for all this mystery and secrecy that Erik was doing.

Bre also promised that she would send Dre to put Travis in check asap. Then the topic changed once again when she sent you the link to an article about the Wakandan king, T’Challa.

Apparently he was slated for a press conference tomorrow morning?

‘She so dumb, but I love her silly ass.’ Smiling faintly, you replied that yes, the king was pretty fione, but he was a little too lean for your tastes. You ain’t want a man that didn’t know how to handle all your thickness. You cracked up laughing when she sent you a poop emoji, murmuring an apology when Chantay told you to keep still.

Once that appointment is concluded, the two of y’all took note of the limo waiting outside.

The. Limo.

GSLKDHFSKFLJSD!!!

“Y/N?” Neither of y’all utter a word. So he tries again, “Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you, ma’am?” The driver asked, professional and relaxed, unruffled, by the fact that he’s being gaped at.

“That’s me.” You reply weakly. He opened the door for you.

“I got the license plate number in case you go missing.” Chantay whispered out the corner of her mouth. Placing a hand over your heart, you throw up a peace sign and she waved, removing a cigarette from behind her ear and lit it.

Question after question flew through your brain. You wanted to touch everything but at the same time, it was important to show some class. He drops you off at the apartment where you quickly shower, moisturize, and change (Nadia is gone but where you don’t know and have no time to find out), and when you come back out, the few people lingering around eye you with appreciation, curiousity and lust.

The drive to the Queen’s Cove is completely silent but you don’t care. This feels like some straight up black Cinderella-out-the-hood type stuff.

The next time the car pulls to a stop and the door opens, it’s Erik who’s reaching a hand out to you. Without hesitation, you take his hand and he helps you out of the limo, appraising you with hungry eyes. Although your inner mantra is that you’re in public and this is indecent, especially for a place this fancy, you give him a once over too.

“Damn baby, you lookin’ like a whole snack.”

Cracking a smile, because regardless, Erik gon be Erik, you let him kiss the corner of your mouth, so close to your lips. “Mmhm, you look handsome too, baby. Let’s go meet your cousin.”

“You right, you right.” There’s a distracted air about him and he can’t stop looking at you.

Admittedly, that swells your ego. That floaty feeling carries you through what might have been an epic freak out and meltdown because again, there were celebrities and politicians milling about, everything looked expensive.

Fuck, even the air smelled rich!

The maitre d’ led y’all to a private booth/sitting area in the far back, not easily noticed by other people. And there, already seated... Is the King of Wakanda. T’Challa Udaku.

“Cousin! There’s bobotie on the menu!” Eyebrows raising, you glanced at Erik pointedly, but he merely pulled out the chair for you. The whole ass king, T’Challa, put down the menu only to smile at you brightly, “Oh! I am so rude. Hello. You are Erik’s woman, yes?”

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Your Highness.” You said primly, about to raise up and possibly mangle an attempt at a curtsey, but Erik’s hand on the nape of your neck keeps you seated, the gesture effortlessly casual, but intimate.

“Please, there are no need for titles. Did you not tell her that, cousin?” Erik sat down too. “...Oh, Bast, he did not tell you that.” T’Challa, the king of an African nation, frowned. “N’Jadaka...”

“N-who?” Your brows furrowed.

T’Challa sighed and Erik eyeballed him, expression annoyed. “Bruh, don’t come at me like that! What with yo bitch ass Council putting that gag order on a nigga, what could I tell her but the kiddy shit?”

“Um...” You try to speak up.

“The conference is tomorrow, cousin. You could have informed her at least two weeks in advance.”

“You think I’m slow or some shit? Like I can’t read, muthafucka? Of course I know it’s tomorrow! I brought her down her to meet yo cornball ass, but we can bounce if you gon be on some other--”

THUMP!

Slamming your fist into the table, ignoring the throbbing pain searing through the appendage, you glared at them both. “If both y’all grown ass men don’t start actin’ like y’all mofos got some sense and recognize we in public, right now...” You say through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, baby.” Erik mumbled.

“My apologies, Y/N.”

After that, the tension faded away. The dinner felt relaxed and normal, like you were eating out with ya man and another brother or something. During that dinner though, Erik explained that he was a prince, third in line for the throne to Wakanda. The two of them made some questionable quips and remarks that bordered on being too dark, and you were most certainly going to be talking to Erik about that later.

Erik, that wasn’t even his real name.

It’s N’Jadaka Udaku.

There’s something beautiful about the way the vowels rolled off your tongue and N’Jadaka, likes when you use it. Oh, yeah, he definitely liked the way you say his name, if his hand on your thigh underneath the table is any indication, the slow circles he’s rubbing into the satin smooth brown skin, teasing you.

“Hi! I’m Mitchell and this is Cassandra, and we--”

Oh. No.

It feels like the bottom of your stomach has fallen out. You are half afraid to even look up and see if they’re as close as you fear, but when you flick your eyes to the right, yes. Yes they are, right here.

Waiters.

Ha!

Right now, they’re pestering T’Challa, asking if he wants a refill of his drink, and you glance at ya man, trying to non-verbally signal to him that we had to get the fuck outta dodge before they noticed us. And either he was just horny or he got the message, probably the former, but he was about to get up when Cassandra turned and finally noticed us.

Shit!

“Y/N! Hi! Oh, goodness. This is such a coincidence, running into you and your beau again. I told Mitchell that I saw you at my other job and he didn’t believe me at all.”

Somehow, you manage to smile, “Such a...small world.”

There’s a pregnant pause. “Erik! Hi, hello!” Again, she offered her hand for a shake.

He ignored her outstretched hand. “This is a private dinner. Family only.”

Mitchell snorted, his handsome features twisting into a sneer. “Family? Y/N? No way. I grew up with the girl, that’s straight ghetto--”

Cassandra elbowed her hubby abruptly. “Honey.”

“Nah, let him finish his sentence.” Erik took a swallow of wine, finishing off the glass. “‘Straight ghetto’, what?”

“I was going to say that Y/N and her family are an...unscrupulous bunch.” Lying through his teeth, Mitchell plastered a smile onto his lips, though his eyes are bitter, cruel. Jealous. “It’s very unfit for her to be sitting next to, and dining with, royalty.”

T’Challa raised a finger, “Forgive me for sounding uncultured in this. English is not my first language and I have not been to America often,” It’s clear, if only to you and Erik, that he’s downplaying his own intellect, he’d talked circles around you about a lot of topics and explained things without making you feel stupid. “But I believe you are insulting not only myself, and by extension, all of Wakanda, you are also insulting my own cousin, a prince, and his choice of female companion? Y/N is quite a lovely and intelligent, funny, woman, after all.”

“I agree! I so agree!” Cassandra nodded her head vigorously. “Y/N and I, we were friends once upon a time ago in college.”

Unable to stand all this double talking and hypocrisy, your mouth opened, “Bitch, when?” You sounded so done at the moment. “Is it after you caught a case of jungle fever and decided that you were finished fucking Tim, who went on to become a famous country singer by the way, and chose this light bright nigga to be your Negro husband? I bet you were very disappointed that the rumor of all black men having big dicks isn’t true.”

Cassandra paled, standing there, gaping at you. Mitchell, however, absolutely exploded. “You ghetto ass dirty hoodrat bi--”

One right hook and an uppercut and Mitchell hit the floor with a pained grunt. Erik put his foot on his chest, keeping him in place. “I’m from Oakland, California, straight up out the hood, my nigga. Erik Stevens, ask about me.” Grinding his heel into his chest for a few more seconds, he stepped over him, “Let’s get the fuck up outta here.”

“Yoink.” You grab the bottle of wine, patting Cassandra’s shoulder ‘comfortingly’. “I’ll just take this for the road. Since we such good friends, you got me, right? Right. I’ll holla at you on Facebook, boo boo.” With a wave of your fingers, you accept Erik’s hand, smiling big and pretty, especially when he adjusted his grip so that his arm is around your waist, headed for the exit.

“Bill me for any damages, yes?” Smiling a camera ready smile, T’Challa dipped his head in farewell to Cassandra, accidentally stepping on Mitchell’s hand and followed after his wayward cousin and date.

Once y’all are outside, embarrassment overtakes you and you’re about to apologize to T’Challa but he only wagged a finger and smiled. “It was very good fun tonight. I almost thought you were too timid for my cousin but you have such a vibrant personality, Y/N.”

You look at the ground then away from him, unable to keep eye contact at the sincerity in his tone. “Careful, nigga, or you and me gon go round three for you flirting with my girl.” Erik joked, tilting your chin up a little to kiss your forehead.

T’Challa shook his head and chuckled, “Take care of each other and stay out of trouble, eh.”

Then y’all go y’all’s separate ways. Erik and you get in the limo, while a fierce, bald lady opens the door to a sleek sports car, and T’Challa gets in that. Both vehicles take off in opposite directions. You reach for Erik’s hand and he holds your hand in his lap, his thumb tracing circles around the pulse point, a pensive expression on his face. You want to know what’s up but you also are afraid to know what’s bothering him, secretly figuring that it’s you and the drama that follows you around like a bad smell.

When the limo drops y’all off at his crib, he immediately strips of the outfit, carelessly dropping the items of clothing onto the floor and elsewhere, motions agitated. You follow after him silently, carefully following his lead. The two of you shower together but he doesn’t touch you, or make any lewd comments. He gives you some clothes to sleep in and you think that y’all aren’t going to talk about the elephant in the room when he turns his back to you, and reluctantly, you turn so that you’re facing away from him too.

Only twenty minutes of this and you think you’re going crazy.

You’re about to get the fuck outta dodge when he speaks, “I need...I need to tell you somethin’.” Heart sinking in your chest, you try to turn around but he holds you in place, apparently not wanting you to look at him while he tells you...whatever he needs to tell you.

Pretty sure you were prepared for anything than what he told you about his life before he and you started sleeping together and became a couple. The uncensored version of who Erik Steven is...or rather, who he had been.

Killmonger.

All of it.

You’d like to think you were a tough as nails type of bitch, but that story had you crying hard as shit. Whether for N’Jobu, N’Jadaka, or T’Challa and his father. Or Erik’s victims...it’s a mystery.

You just hurt.

“I couldn’t...couldn’t keep hiding what I done. I mean, I could, but tonight, if anything, proved that all that shit tends to come out one way or the other. And I wanted you to hear it from me, not nobody else.” He swallowed. “I ain’t gon be mad or, or, stop you if you choose to leave me. I understand.”

The next time you attempted to turn around, he didn’t stop you. Legs on either side of his chest, hands resting on his abdomen, you stared down at him with red and puffy eyes. “If I got up right now to leave, would you choke me out, smack me, or shoot me in the head?”

He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly, eyes suspiciously bright, “No.”

“Do you have any plans to cheat on me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Couples fight, they argue. That shit is normal. I might get mad and say some hurtful things, or you might be the one to do all that. We might yell at each other. That is normal. What I won’t accept is being made into Boo-Boo the Fool when you get mad and feel you have to prove what a man you are, then cheat on me with another bitch.

I won’t be your punching bag or doormat. I am your woman, more than that, I’m somebody daughter, they sister.

I’ve got too much respect for myself to let any of that foolishness go on. I will drop yo ass wit the quickness and cross the street to avoid speaking to you for years, if necessary.” Pausing, you take a breath, letting your words sink in.

“Do you understand?”

Erik’s cautiously rests his hands on your hips. “I understand that, and I respect it. But I’m asking you to please, don’t throw that shit I told you in my face if you get mad. Ion care bout nun else but don’t do me dirty like that, Y/N. I’m tryin’ my best, baby girl.”

Baby girl. Oooh fuck, that nickname did things to you. You needed to get your hormones under control, bih, this is a serious moment! “’Kay.” You say, voice quiet, and you bite your bottom lip.

He seemed to sense the turn in your attitude because he soon leaned up and kissed you open mouthed and nasty, squeezing your ass cheeks, the boy shorts you wore offering little to no protection from Erik’s groping hands, “You gon let me fuck you now, ain’tchu, baby girl?”

Oh, this bastard. Moaning yessssss, you don’t resist when he yanks off the shirt you wore, accidentally tearing it a little before flinging it away, then yanked off the booty shorts, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his cock, teasing your wet pussy folds before pushing in alllll the way inside you.

“You mines, you my baby girl, you gon stay wit me.” The words are quietly delivered every time he fucks up into you, and your eyes screw shut, breaths coming quick. “Say it.” A particularly hard roll of his hips punches the breath out of you, “I can stay like this all night.”

And you know he can, he would, tease you, the both of you, until he gets what he wants. “I’m yours, your baby g-girl,” Erik sucked at your throat, intent on leaving a hickie. “I’m not gon leave you.”

It’s like your words flipped a switch or something because he’s switching positions so that you’re beneath him and he’s fucking you nice and slow. Then again, this doesn’t really feel like fucking. It’s not rough or quick, with spankings or some choking. Whatever it is, it’s intense, and the way he’s looking at you, the way he kisses your shoulder, murmuring how good your pussy feels, and other sweet, perverse things, eventually sends you over the edge. You don’t deny it when he mutters, “You my baby girl...” Right in your ear just before he pushes inside you as far as he can go, filling you with his cum.

After all, it’s not like he’s wrong; you are his.

#mcu #erik killmonger #mcu imagine #erik killmonger imagine #black reader #black panther #marvel #black panther imagine #marvel imagine #erik killmonger x reader #thekrazykeke

84 notes · View notes

shamelessly4shameless-blog · 7 years

Text

If ... Kash walked in later?

Ian grinned down at the back of Mickey’s head, his eyes trailing from the short, dark mess of his hair to the grimy ring of dirt on his neck where his shirt collar had gone awry. Gently, Ian pulled back from Mickey and heard a noise suspiciously close to a whimper escape the older boy’s lips.

“You okay?”

Mickey didn’t answer, just pushed himself off of the white chest freezer and began tugging his pants up.

“You in some sort of hurry?”

“What? You want me to hang around and braid your hair?”

Mickey still hadn’t looked at him and seemed to be doing his best to pretend Ian wasn’t there as he buckled his pants and smoothed down his worn old sweater.

“Sure. Have to be tiny braids though.”

Ian joked, tugging at his fringe, and then smiling to show he was only playing as intent blue eyes flicked upwards; looking for what Ian wasn’t sure but clearly searching for something.

“C’mon, you can steal some lunch. Linda’s out.”

Ian pressed and was rewarded with a small smile in return.

“I don’t need your permission to steal shit, Gallagher.”

“Yeah I’ve noticed that.”

Mickey’s smile widened slightly as he thumbed at his lower lip. His gaze met Ian’s and then dropped, returned and dropped again. Ian laughed at Mickey’s sudden shyness. He really liked Mickey. He liked how he could be so loud and rough one minute and then so quiet and uncertain the next. Ian couldn’t actually tell which persona was the real Mickey, he sort of thought they probably both were. Mickey seemed to be one of those people who could adjust pretty much fluidly to the situations around him, kind of like Lip. Ian could never do that, he’s too rigid but he liked watching other people manage it.

“Come on!”

Ian tugged Mickey out of the storeroom by his coat sleeve. The contact was fleeting, as soon as they crossed the threshold back into the store itself; Mickey yanked his cuff out of Ian’s grasp and stuffed his hands firmly into his pockets, scowling.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Chips and dip, I guess.”

Ian noticed the anxious way Mickey was gnawing on the inside of his lower lip, eyes darting to the shop door every couple of seconds and hummed sympathetically.

“No one is coming in Mickey. We’re safe.”

Blue eyes met green with a challenge that Ian had no intention of meeting. He held up his hands

“I’m just saying ...”

“What? You’re just saying what?”

Another chameleon shift and Mickey cricked his neck left and then right, his eyes never leaving Ian. Unease prickled up Ian’s back and he tried to smile but felt it drift off his lips.

“I’m just … are you about to hit me?”

Mickey blinked, taken by surprise and folded his arms defensively

“I was thinking about it, yeah.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why? Seems a little shitty.”

Ian shrugged and turned away from Mickey, wandering down the aisle until he found the BBQ pringles. Mickey had followed him, and Ian could feel him hovering near his elbow.

“Sour cream or ...”

“Sour cream.”

Mickey’s voice had lost that challenging edge and Ian let out a small relieved sigh. He really hadn’t wanted to fight Mickey. The tire-iron incident had taught him a few interesting things and amongst them had been the fact that Mickey was a dirty, scrappy fighter who could kick Ian’s ass without really trying. Also, Ian thought, glancing at Mickey over his shoulder, if they got into a fight, they’d probably end up having sex again and Ian wasn’t really sure that was a great habit to instil in either of them. Split lips leading to orgasm? No. Definitely not.

Ian picked up a couple of apples and then looped down a the aisles again, just for the fun of Mickey following him around. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his songs – there wasn’t much on there that he thought Mickey would like so he decided to just go with what he liked and stuck on a Rihanna track.

“The fuck is this shit?”

“Rihanna. Kash bought me the album. This song is Distrubia. You heard it before?”

“No.”

Ian grinned at amount of disdain Mickey managed to pack into that one tiny word.

“I think she’s singing about losing control and kind of learning to go with it you know? Like … uh … accepting herself and stuff.”

“Uh-huh.”

Mickey gave Ian a stern side eyed glance and slammed the tube of pringles down on the counter with more force than necessary, ripping into it and cramming several into his mouth at once. Ian bit his lip and tried again. He knew that it was unlikely that Rihanna was going to be the thing to get Mickey to maybe relax a little about who he was but it was worth a try ...

“And maybe she’s like … scared of it but she wants to figure herself out and be who she is...”

“Jesus. She’s a fuckin’ chick! It’s probably just her time of the month and she ran out of chocolate or some shit.”

Mickey waved his BBQ stained fingers dismissively and Ian took a long-suffering breath before deciding that maybe it was worth leaving this alone.

“Well that’s nice and sexist of you.”

Mickey didn’t respond but a small half-smile lifted the curve of his cheek and Ian found himself smiling back despite his frustration.

The song changed to something a little more sultry and as Rihanna questioned her endurance levels, Ian noticed Mickey looking at him a little differently. He straightened his back and let Mickey watch him, it didn’t bother Ian at all, he actually enjoyed it. Gradually, he turned so that he was facing Mickey and returning the appraisal.

Mickey didn’t notice at first, he was too busy watching Ian to recognise that he was also under scrutiny. It was only when Ian mirrored Mickey licking his lower lip that the older boy realised what was happening. He blinked and pushed himself fully upright off the counter, legs locking straight beneath the baggy denim of his jeans.

“I gotta go.”

He said but made no move to actually leave and Ian took the moment to step in a little closer.

“The fuck you doing?”

Mickey put his hand out and his palm bumped against the soft fabric of Ian’s shirt, his fingers curling against the firm chest beneath involuntarily.

“I’d like to kiss you.”

Ian said softly and watched the instant ripples of fear, regret, and longing play across Mickey’s features.

“No fuckin’ way.”

“Mickey ...”

“No Gallagher. I let you get away with that shit before but you try it again I’m gonna ...”

“Do something violent and thuggish. Yeah, I know.”

Ian smirked and stepped in against Mickey’s outstretched arm, folding it back as if it was paper.

“I like having you here, Mickey.”

“Then just eat a fuckin’ pringle and leave this shit alone.”

Mickey turned and grabbed the tube, thrusting it pleadingly at Ian. How the fuck did a kid who looked like an overgrown ginger puppy make Mickey feel like his heart was about to explode in his fucking chest? And worse, it seemed like Gallagher could read every feeling Mickey had and just accepted them as his due. He didn’t seem freaked out in the slightest.

Ian sighed and took a pringle. Mickey looked like he was about to faint with relief and Ian snorted in amusement.

He took four more pringles. He crammed them in sideways and scooped up sour cream on his fingers and stuffed it right in alongside them and winked at Mickey.

“You’re gross.”

Mickey laughed but accepted the challenge Ian’s raised eyebrow offered. The tube went down in a shower of crumbs, puffed out cheeks and grabbing hands. Ian nearly choked tipping the crumbs down his throat and Mickey actually did choke laughing at him. Ian smeared sour cream down Mickey’s cheek and ran.

“Fuck sake.”

Mickey took off down the aisle after Ian, catching him around the waist and half lifting him, half-dragging him back toward the counter and the waiting tub of sour cream.

“No! No, Mickey!”

Ian laughed, exaggerating his outrage.

“This is what you get, Gallagher.”

Mickey grinned, scooping out a dollop with his index finger and wiping it down the bridge of Ian’s nose.

“Ian?”

Neither of them had heard Kash come in. Ian jerked as if slapped whilst Kash glanced between them in confusion, clearly not sure what he was seeing and whether it was dangerous or something else … Mickey read the thought on Kash’s before it had even fully formed and shoved Ian hard in the back.

“I said, gimmee the fuckin’ smokes and get the fuck out of my way.”

It was a shitty cover but it was the best he could do and Ian nodded as if they had actually just been fighting over Mickey’s theft.

Kash held up his hands and switched his look to Mickey

“Just take what you want, Mickey.”

“Like I need your fuckin’ permission.”

Mickey scoffed and reached over the counter, grabbing cigarettes in trembling fingers. Mickey wanted to look at Ian. He wanted to make sure he was doing the right thing but he didn’t dare try and look into those eyes. Kash was a coward but he wasn’t a fool. Mickey settled for a side-glance at the younger boy and by some miracle Ian was ready for it because he nodded and gave Mickey a minuscule smile letting Mickey know he was alright, everything was alright.

“See ya, pricks.”

Outside the store Mickey lit one of the stolen cigarettes and coughed into his coat sleeve. He crossed the street, kept his head down and walked at his usual pace but his heart was beating too fast and his fingers wouldn’t quit shaking. It wasn’t fear over being caught fooling around with Gallagher, they’d both been fully clothed and all that, Kash couldn’t prove shit. No, what freaked Mickey out was that he had been willing, totally willing, to put himself between Ian and the fuckin’ geriatric queerbo if it had come to it.

Milkovich’s do not protect. They fuckin’ attack. Gallagher was getting Mickey all twisted around and the fuck if Mickey was going to end up like that bitch Rihanna, not knowing whether he was coming or going over some dude with a magic dick or whatever. Jesus. Mickey knew he should have bolted not stuck around pretending to be mid theft and maybe if Kash had walked in when they were fucking Mickey would have done just that but instead he had walked in on them getting weird with a dip and Mickey had wanted to ram it down the asshole’s throat until he choked on it for interrupting them and for making Ian jump.

Mickey wiped the last traces of cream off his face and shook his head. He’d fucked people up for small things before but never just for making some freckly kid jump. He was definitely getting mixed up but the trouble was, Mickey kind of loved it and the more time he spent around Ian, the more he realised how much he loved it.

#shameless #shameless fanfiction #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #gallavich #ian loves mickey

62 notes · View notes

miikaelmalik · 7 years

Note

Can you write a Mikadam fic?

babes, yes I can, i shoudn’t but I can lol. You didn’t seem too picky with the prompt in that ask right there so i just wrote this mess in class today, bc that’s what uni is for apparently xx

———————————————————————————————–

Elias isn’t one to meddle in anybody’s affairs. Especially not with people he really cared about and that didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Like Even.

Or just Adam and Mikael. Quite literally an affair in this case, huh. He didn’t want to know really.

They were all affectionate with each other, but there was always something different about Adam and Mikael. He really didn’t want to know. But he couldn’t help but know, honestly, these boys were idiots.

Idiots that were in the middle of everything it seems.

Because as soon as the two idiots stopped being two idiots together, things just were.. off. “Okay then. Should we uh.. do a video maybe?”

“Yeah, why not?” Mutta said, burying his hand in a pringles can.

“Mhhhm.” it came for Yousef, who lazily reached over to turn Mutta’s arm up, turning the can over to make the remaining potatoe chips fall closer to Mutta’s hand.

Elias glanced over at Mikael who was squeezed in between the sofa’s arm rest and Yousef, hiding behind his phone. Something was wrong then. But instead of hearing a word from him,

Elias heard a loud bang of a plate hitting a glass table.

Adam had put it there harshly, now ripping the pringles can from the boys. He shook the last few chips from the can onto the plate. “There!” He barked and sat back down again. The others stared at him with open mouths, Mikael only shaking his head softly.

“Uhh..” Mutta started, glancing over at Mikael as well.

“What are you looking at him for?! You were the one too dumb to get them out! Are you sick or something?!”

“Relax!” Elias said, matching the loudness of his voice. “What’s up with you?”

“I think I’m going home.” Mikael said, standing up before Adam could answer anything. “But we just got here.” Yousef said, looking at Elias for help. “Yeah, bro, sit down..”

But he had already grabbed his jacket and backpack. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He muttered, walking out of the Bakkoush’s livingroom. They listened to the front door fall shut carefully, then only listening to the silence that was left behind.

“…Are you really still sitting there? Go after him?” Yousef asked with a dry tone after a moment. Adam scoffed under his breath, tapping his foot nervously. The boys only watched him, staying silent otherwise.

Adam groaned after another minutedramatically, standing up as well. “Fine, fine..” He said, picking up his jacket from the ground where he had thrown it down carelessly earlier. He reached for Mutta’s hand, bumping their fists in apology. “See ya, losers.” He sighed, following Mikael at last.

Again, the boys stayed silent. “…Look at us.” Mutta said quietly. “I feel like we’re a bunch of toddlers whose parents are divorcing.”

Elias blinked at him at first, then pressing his lips together to stop hysterical laughter from coming up. He didn’t succeed, ending up falling backwards onto his back, laughing loudly. What idiots!

Yousef saw a lot of things usually. He wasn’t ignorant towards the little details in everyday life.

Like the way Sana would close her eyes for a moment everytime her phone reminded her of prayer times. Or how she liked to salt every meal before actually tasting it.

They still didn’t really reach that kind of intimicy together, but Yousef had seen who had reached that level well before Sana and him.

He saw often enough how Mikael would lean into Adam when they were seated next to each other and really, when weren’t they. He saw how they would wear each other’s clothes. He saw how they drank and ate from each other. He saw how they were always aware of each other and how they’d always laugh about each other’s jokes, as bad as those might be.

Sometimes he’d even see the ridiculous stuff.

Like Adam taking Mikael’s cheeseburgers apart first to take off the pickle, before giving it to him. Because Mikael didn’t like them.

Or like Mikael suddenly carrying a pack of allergy pills and tissues in his backpack. Because it was spring and because Adam refused to go see a doctor about it.

Yousef never commented on it and he doubted Mutta and Elias realized all of these things anyway. He thought it was cute.

Sana agreed when he had told her. “I know.” She said with a brilliant smile. And of course she knew. She probably saw more of these little details than Yousef himself did.

“Like an old married couple, don’t you think?”

Mutasim didn’t know when they all agreed to just never talk about the thing but he never actually agreed on not talking about the thing and he and Mikael mostly talked about things anyway, even away from the boys.

“So. What’s up with you and Adam?” He had asked him one day.

They were on their way to the mosque, friday prayers, and it was a sunny friday too, everything had been okay - until he asked.

Mikael turned to look at him, mouth open slightly, eyes staring at him in horror

“Oh”, he remembered thinking. Was that why you don’t talk about the thing?

They fell behind, Yousef, Adam, Elias, Mr. Bakkoush and Even not realizing Mutta had messed up a tiny bit back here They were too busy explaining the customs to Even who was about to experience them anyway and it was just a standard friday prayer and hellooo, why was nobody helping him here?

“Why.” Mikael said, still staring, breathing quicker. Mutta heard Mr. Bakkoush laugh loudly, clapping Even on the back for something funny he had said, Elias and Adam yelling, jumping on each other.

“I.. I mean, it’s cool?” Mutta said quickly, staring back at his friend. “It’s cool.” He repeated, glancing back at the others. “Maybe we should go now, or..?”

“Is it really cool?” Mikael asked, staring a bit too intensly, making Mutta look away again.

“Yeah, it’s chill. Wallahi. Now c'mon.” he said honestly, following the other boys again.

It took Mikael a moment or two before he jogged after him, grabbing Mutta’s arm with a small smile. “It’s chill.” He nodded, linking their arms.

The thing itself wasn’t a bad thing in their lives, right, so why ever not asking about the thing? The next time Mutasim asked, it wasn’t a sunny friday anymore, it was a dark rainy fucking day in the middle of the week. Probably. That’s what it had seemed like. Because now Even was gone, wasn’t he, properly gone.

And Adam was still not talking to Mikael.

“Is everything alright with you two?”

Mikael had looked up at him, nodding quickly. Lying.

“I’m sure it’s just. The whole thing. Just a shitty situation.” Mutta said gently.

Mikael nodded, looking away.

“He’ll come around. He knows Even only kissed you because he wasn’t.. feeling well?”

Mikael nodded again.

“You know him best, he just wants to be angry at something before he deals with his actual feelings… I’ll ask him about it, okay?”

And he did ask. Which ended up in a bit of a fight. And then in a four hour facetime call to Adam, because when he was finally ready to even consider his feelings it was already two in the morning. Mutta slept well past noon that day, head full of problems he would rather avoid in his life, thanks very much. But they met at Elias’ place again that evening. And they seemed.. fine.

Mikael waved at him briefly, smiling brightly. He was leaning against Adam who was showing him stupid memes on his phone. Because now his mission in life was to make Mikael laugh again. Mutta smiled back at the boys, saluting the other two too.

He really loved these boys.

But damn him if he ever asks again.

#mikadam #anon #skam #mikael x adam #adam x mikael

91 notes · View notes

carey-pricemas · 8 years

Text

Jersey- Jimmy Vesey

Alright so while writing this, I realized how little I know about the Rangers (I'm a Devils girl sorry). I mean I know key players, but yeahhhh... Anyway! So anon I hope I did Jimmy justice! And I hope you all like it! Let me know what you think!

Warning: alcohol

Anon request: Can you do a jimmy vesey imagine where you two meet at a charity event

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

You shifted uncomfortably in the dress you were wearing. You weren't really quite sure how you ended up at the New York Rangers Casino Night.

Ok that wasn't true.

Your ex-boyfriend bought you tickets to go before you caught him cheating on you. It was only fair that you, the only Rangers fan in the relationship, got to keep the tickets in exchange for his balls.

He seemed to agree rather easily.

So here you were, contemplating the brilliantness of coming to an event like this alone and wearing a dress that was nice to look at, but let's be honest, you were totally a jeans and jersey kind of person.

You took a sip of your drink, the liquid making a trail of slow burn down your throat.

"That surprises me," a voice interrupted your thoughts. You gulped and looked to your left, tilting your head back to meet his dark eyes. "The Jack?" He tipped his head to your glass. "I would have expected a woman of your beauty to be sipping wine."

"To be honest, I'd rather have a beer," you replied. He chuckled.

"May I?" he asked. You gestured to the seat next to you and watched as the man next to you ordered a drink from the bartender as he sat.

"Holy crap!" you blurted when you realized who was sitting next to you. "You're Jimmy Vesey!" His eyes crinkled and he tipped his tumbler glass towards you.

"That I am. And you are...?"

"Oh shoot! I'm sorry! I'm (Y/N)." You shook hands with the rookie Ranger.

"Rangers fan?"

"Duh," you replied. He grinned. "I only own like six jerseys and season tickets."

"Really? Your husband must be a lucky guy," he said sipping his drink. You laughed loudly.

"Husband. You're funny. Single as a Pringle," you chirped. Then blushed hard.

Did you seriously just tell the hottest Ranger you were single as a Pringle?

Jeez no wonder you were single!

"That's cute. I like it," he said with a wink. You grinned at him. "In case you're wondering I am as single as you are." You choked on the drink you had taken.

"Are you trying to kill her, Ves?" Chris Kreider asked as he came up behind you too. "She's too pretty to kill."

"No he's fine," you said waving Kreider off. "Just surprised me is all."

"Well, if you want a man instead of a kid-"

"I'll go find Lundqvist," you interrupted. Jimmy laughed as Kreider pouted. Kreider was pulled away as a fan wanted to chat with him, leaving you alone with Jimmy once more.

"Lundqvist kinda girl, eh?" You leaned towards Jimmy, who leaned close to you as well, as if you were telling him a secret.

"Two of those six jerseys are his." Jimmy leaned back and laughed. You grinned and took another sip of your drink.

"Oh yeah? And who do those other four belong to?"

"Messier, Richter, McDonagh, and..." you trailed off.

"And?" Jimmy prompted. You shrugged.

"Kreider."

"What?" Jimmy laughed. You grinned.

"I haven't gotten around to a Vesey one yet," you replied with a wink.

"Well let's up my chances of you getting one." He jumped off his stool and held out his hand for yours. You took the last swig of Jack and set the glass down before taking his hand and gracefully (or as gracefully as you could in heels) slid to the ground. Jimmy put your hand in the crook of his elbow and led you through the crowds to the large poker table. He tapped a man on the shoulder and when the man turned, your mouth dropped open.

"Oh my god you're Henrik Lundqvist" you breathed.

"Hank, this is my new friend, (Y/N). She owns two of your jerseys."

"It's nice to meet you, (Y/N)," Henrik said, holding out his hand for you to shake. You dropped Jimmy's arm and shook his hand. Jimmy quickly pulled your hand back into the crook of his arm. You squeezed it gently in thanks. "Do you want to join us?"

"Oh no. I don't know how to play poker" you said shaking your head.

"We were just going to go get something to eat, actually" Jimmy replied to his teammate. Henrik nodded.

"Wait! We were?" you asked, looking at Jimmy. He grinned down at you.

"Yeah. Let's jet." You waved to Henrik as Jimmy pulled you from the venue, slipping past his coach and all the fans who had gathered. "Any preference?"

"Nope, but just letting you know, I totally cabbed here."

"Me too. Come on." He led you down the street, your arm still in his. "This place reminds me so much of Boston."

"Are you from Boston?" you asked. To be honest, you knew he wasn't. You wouldn't call yourself a stalker per say, but his twitter and Instagram were great.

"Not exactly, but I went to Harvard, so it's almost like I lived there. The guys and I would go bar hopping there." You laughed.

"Sounds fun."

"I'd suggest we do that now, but I can't. So how about this?" Jimmy swept his hand across a diner that was open. You grinned at him.

"Only if I can get a milkshake."

"I think I can splurge on a milkshake" he said with a laugh. He led you inside and you slid into a booth in the corner. You both laughed and talked, learning all about one another over milkshakes and burgers.

"Hey listen" Jimmy said. "I get tickets for family and friends if I want them and, well, we have a game Monday night..."

"Hey. I don't need the ticket, remember" you said with a wink. "But I will cheer you on."

"Right. Season tickets and two Lundqvist jerseys." He shook his head laughing. "I'll get you a pass to meet me by the locker afterwards. Maybe we could go to a late dinner after?"

"I'd like that" you said smiling.

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

You stood by the glass, the sign in your hands. As the boys skated out for warm ups, you held it up. Kreider tapped Jimmy on the back before pointing at your sign. Jimmy skated over and laughed.

'I bought one!' the sign exclaimed. You had your jersey on backwards so he could see the 'Vesey' and 26 on it. He laughed and tapped the glass with his knuckles.

"Good luck!" you yelled. He grinned.

"See you after!" he yelled back. You stepped back and he took off. As you made your way to your seat, you turned your jersey around.

Time to cheer your boy on.

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Ok so I thought that came out cute. Yeah? No? Let me know what you think! Up next: Jamie Benn, four different Andre prompts, and Michael Latta! Also I’m trying to work on a schedule to get stuff up (it’s hard with my job) but I’ll let you guys know when I get something!

#jimmy vesey #ves #new york rangers #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

96 notes · View notes

miraculouslanceylance · 8 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Nalu One-Shot

Word Count: 1062

Lucy sighs to herself when she spots the date on the calendar. Valentine's Day. Lucy never cared for this holiday very much, and not because she's always single. Granted, she can't find 'Mr. Right', she doesn't have negative feelings towards the holiday because of it. She isn't petty like that. No, Lucy doesn't like the holiday because she doesn't really understand it. Why should people have to wait until Valentine's Day to treat their significant other better than usual? What really confuses and annoys her is when couples break up to avoid buying each other something. Now that is childish.

"Well, I suppose there's no better day to work on a romance novel than this one," Lucy says to herself. "I am an author with a deadline, after all." She turns around to her dresser and decides on a shirt to wear. She slips into her favorite pink sweater with a black cat nose and whiskers. She also dances her way into a pair of skinny jeans before she slips on a pair of black boots. Lucy also can't help but put on her favorite pink beanie and black cat earrings. She braids her hair as a final touch.

Lucy grabs her floral hobo bag and fills it with the essentials: her laptop, notebook, phone, wallet, and lip gloss. "You never know when you're gonna meet the one, after all," she smiles to herself in the mirror. Her mom said that all the time when Lucy was a child. She grabs her apartment keys and walks out the front door.

Immediately Lucy is hit with love-sick emotions in the air. Couples everywhere are taking romantic walks, giving each other flowers, driving around, etc. Lucy may be the only person who's walking down the sidewalk by herself. She sighs and pops in a pair of earbuds and plugs them into her phone. She chooses the 'anti-valentine' station on her radio app. She walks down the busy streets of Chicago, happily blocking out her surroundings as she does.

Well...Lucy may have blocked out her surroundings a little too much. She takes a step into the street when the loud honk of a horn comes from her left. She turns and screams, but she finds herself unable to move. Suddenly an arm hooks around her waist and pulls her back onto the sidewalk. Lucy screeches again and collides with someone's chest. The car drives by and the driver flips her off.

"You should really pay more attention, you almost got squashed," a warm voice says next to her ear. Lucy blushes and turns around, pulling her earbuds from her ears. She's face-to-face with a handsome young man with dark eyes and bright pink hair. He offers her a cheesy grin from ear to ear, tilting his head slightly. Lucy blushes again and suddenly becomes very aware of his arm still around her waist, but she takes no action to remove it.

"T-Thanks, stranger," Lucy says. The pink haired man nods and his eyes flicker over her head. He lets go of her waist and begins walking, motioning for her to follow. Lucy sees that it's time to walk, so she jogs after him. Her heels click on the pavement and she quickly joins his side again. "You saved my life back there."

The man with dark eyes nods and puts his hands in his pockets. "You're welcome. A pretty girl like you should stay in one piece, don't ya think?" Lucy notices his white button up and black silk vest. He has a matching pair of pants and shiny shoes. He also has a shiny lip ring, an ear piercing, and gauge per ear. She admires them while they're walking, distracted by both his beauty and that comment. "You hoo?" he winks at her.

Lucy blushes and realizes that she never said anything. "Sorry...just..you think I'm pretty?" she asks.

"I think you're beautiful," the man says. "I'm Natsu Dragneel."

"Lucy Heartfilia," she responds and holds out her hand to shake. Natsu takes a hand out of his pocket and shakes her hand, making sure he squeezes it gently. He frowns and dismisses himself, saying that he's at his stop. Lucy nods and watches him walk down an alley, disappearing around the corner. She furrows her eyebrows and keeps walking, she's only a store away from the coffee shop anyway.

The bell chimes as Lucy pushes open the glass door. She smiles, inhaling the fresh scent of coffee. She ignores the couples sitting at every table and sits at her usual spot near the window. She sets up her laptop and pulls out her phone. She sends Levy a quick hello text before opening up her current document and beginning to write. Immediately Lucy sees a black uniform out of the corner of her eye. She looks left to see Natsu, holding a pen and pad.

"Hey beautiful, you following me?" he smirks. Lucy blushes and offers a small grin. Natsu sits in the chair opposite her and folds his hands together. He grins and looks her in the eye. "So, what can I get for ya?"

"Your special Valentine's drink, please. It's my favorite. You work here, tell the boss you guys should have it around more often," Lucy grins and rests her chin in her hands.

"I can do even better than that; I can make it for ya anytime you want. It's actually my own invention," Natsu says. Lucy's interest is peaked instantly, so she shuts her laptop lid and leans forward slightly. "All you have to do, miss, is go on a date with me."

Lucy lifts an eyebrow, a small smirk on her face. You don't need to bribe me with a drink for a date, silly, she thinks to herself. Being honest, if she could take him to bed at that very moment she would. Hell, she doesn't need a bed, just a private place. "Deal." She takes her napkin and writes her phone number, name, and a heart on it. She slides it across the table. "Call me soon, okay? I'd love to have that drink sometime."

Natsu winks. "Be right back," he smiles and walks off to the kitchen. Lucy can't help but grin like a fool as she opens up her laptop again. Maybe Valentine's Day isn't that bad, after all, she tells herself.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

I'm not into the holiday all that much myself, but after writing this one-shot I can't help but get into the spirit!

I hope that you all have a good holiday, whether you're a lovebird or a single pringle :)

#fairytail #nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel

28 notes · View notes

sadmudzines · 5 years

Text

EEL IN THE BATHROOM - PART THREE

(Featured in The Salmons Vol 1)

INT. HALLWAY, OCEAN VIEW HOTEL – NIGHT

Earle knocks on the door to the bathroom but blushes when Dr Eel doesn’t reply.

Marge eyes him expectantly.

MARGE: Can we watch Inspector Morse now?

EARLE: In a minute-

MARGE: You said there’d be Pringles-

EARLE: There are.

Earle avoids eye contact to protect his lie.

MARGE: I’ve got a hankering.

Earle knocks louder, disappointed in the silence.

MARGE: I don’t need the toilet. I don’t go after 8pm. It’s a health thing.

Earle knocks desperately.

EARLE: Dr Eel?

Earle goes to knock again when he eventually hears a grumbling noise. He jumps on it excitedly as it grows louder and louder until suddenly, silence.

DR EEL (OS): Come here or fuck there, I don’t care.

Earle breathes a sigh of relief that Dr Eel’s still there. He opens the door and nudges Marge inside but as he goes to follow him Dr Eel’s tail whips and the door slams shut.

Earle sweats, locked out, panic rising.

EARLE: Dr Eel? Marge?

Violent splashing.

EARLE: Everything okay in there?

Earle knocks tentatively. But no answer.

The splashing sound grows wilder, then screaming. Louder and louder screaming.

Earle panics. His knocking desperate. He’s shouting now.

EARLE: Dr Eel! Let me in!

No response. Just splashing and screaming.

EARLE: Marge? Marge! You alright in there?

The splashing and screaming zip silent. The silence sounds dangerous.

The bathroom door slowly creaks open.

Earle’s panting, scared to step inside.

Earle steps across the doorway. The once white walls now drip in red, glossy blood. Dr Eel and the multiplying fresh eels swim happily in the blood-dyed bath water.

Pieces of Marge scatter the bathroom, torn as if he was made of wet tissue paper. Earle whimpers when he spots Marge’s head. A frozen expression of fear and confusion on his dead face.

Earle can’t bear to look at it. He picks up a towel and gently lays it across what’s left of Marge.

EARLE: Mum’s going to be so mad… Why’d you do that for?

DR EEL: He just smelt so delicious. Like croissants.

EARLE: People will ask questions, what are we going to say? What are we going to do? What a mess, what an awful, disgusting mess. I don’t-

Earle stops mid-sentence as he notices his white trainers are stained with blood.

EARLE: Oh. They were brand new…

The eels continue to slosh in the bathtub.

DR EEL: Go on then, go and get your sweeties. Same place as before.

Earle looks around at the bloody mess.

EARLE: I’m not really in the mood anymore-

DR EEL: But look at all this effort you went through.

EARLE: I know but-

DR EEL: It’s not often you get a night like this.

Earle scoffs.

DR EEL: It’s not often it’s just you, relaxing-

EARLE: With a fucking talking Eel.

DR EEL: Do it.

EARLE: Hmm…

DR EEL: I mean it, do it. Do it, there’s nothing else left to do.

EARLE: I really don’t feel like it anymore.

DR EEL: This isn’t an invite to a tea party. Snort the cocaine, Alice.

Dr Eel whips his tail. As it touches Earle’s skin, electric current zings through his skeleton. Earle howls in pain. His hairs on end.

Dr Eel raises his tail again as a threat. Earle jumps to the cotton wool pot. His hands shake in fear as he scrambles for the drugs.

Pinching the powder between his fingers he pushes it up each nostril. Desperately. He snorts and sniffs as chunks fall from his nose. White rings highlight the circles of his nostril holes.

He repeats until the bag empty. He slumps to the bloody floor once he’s inhaled it all.

DR EEL: Now, more.

EARLE: No more.

DR EEL: Another human, a prettier one. A skinnier one.

Earle shakes his head.

EARLE: No more, I just want to go to bed-

DR EEL: These are the final hours of the night. Aren’t you curious about what could happen? How much we could achieve?

EARLE: No.

DR EEL: That’s what you tell yourself now. But in the morning? When the memories are already made…

Earle softens, tempted. Dr Eel hisses in excitement at Earle’s change in heart.

DR EEL: One more human.

EARLE: There’s no-one who’s thin or pretty in Sugar-On-Sea.

DR EEL: Just thin, then. I can use my imagination…

EARLE: What are you going to do with them?

Dr Eel just hisses.

EARLE: I’d feel guilty about Marge if it wasn’t Marge. But another person… I don’t want you doing what you did to Marge.

DR EEL: One more human, one more line.

EARLE: But I don’t want one-

Dr Eel flicked his tail and electrocuted Earle. The flash created shadows from his bones, nerves and organs as if his skin was a silk screen for puppets.

The air smelt of burnt hair, his own. The electric current had singed his extremities including his fingertips. He didn’t want to leave the house, he meant it when he told Dr Eel there was no-one thinner, prettier and awake. Sugar-On-Sea drained the life from people and instead pumped them full of Trans fat and pessimism. It was a lost cause, but he couldn’t face Dr Eel. The shocks were becoming more painful as Dr Eel’s strength gained from the Fanta and blood. It made his bones vibrate, he never felt pain like it. He sank to the sofa, his hope catching a ride out on every exhale he took. His lungs were nearly empty of all air and feeling, his body as flat and flimsy as a pair of tights. He tried to concentrate, but his head swam; neurons darting in directions as a school of fish at a junction. He thought if he could brace himself, go back into the bathroom and tell Dr Eel no – as confidently as the women who reject him weekend in and out– then it would be all be okay. Just as he was to make the long walk back to the bathroom; something stopped him. A book on the shelf. Sugar-On-Sea still published the yellow pages. A mistrust of the internet in this town gave way for long lost relics to still have a functioning place in society such as phone boxes and Marks & Spencer’s.

This edition of the yellow pages was a few years old, Mr Salmon liked 1988 so he tried to hold onto as many things from that year. It was Earle’s last and only shot.

The town’s council had a surprisingly progressive stance on sex work; prostitution was legal and the strip club was more like a town hall than… well, a strip club. But really, to Earle, it was just a veiled attempt for the council men to cheat on their wives in the name of feminism and freedom.

Earle flicked through the yellow pages and came to the section he needed; whores. The council really had a way with words. He ran his finger down the listing from the Angelas through to the Bettys and then to the Catherines. He stopped on one, Daphne. Her shoulders were sharp points, her soft skin fell dramatically from cheek bones which could only have been achieved by a decent few years of an eating disorder. Thin, yes. Pretty, sort of. The decider was her foreign surname; at least if she was to end up on the floor of his bathroom, like a macabre pick and mix, then maybe it best if she didn’t have any family in the area, no-one would miss her – at least not in a one hundred-mile radius. Earle rang and to his surprise she answered straight away. His heart sunk a little as he heard a thick Essex accent. But it was late, and he just wanted this whole horrible ordeal to be over and done with. He imagined her pink lip stick smudging the other end of the retriever.

He told himself if he managed to clear up all the blood and Fanta and Class A’s by morning. It would be okay to stay up a little later and do one last deed for Dr Eel.

INT. FRONT ROOM, OCEAN VIEW HOTEL – NIGHT

Earle nervously scratched the back of his head.

DAPHNE (O.S): 5am? Make it 4am – gotta get the kids to school.

EARLE: Kids?

DAPHNE (O.S): I don’t know what you’re thinking you dirty pervert but-

EARLE: No, no. That’s not what I… I just didn’t think about them, about you having to be somewhere in the morning-

DAPHNE (O.S): I’m a real person, you know that right? Got jobs on my list that don’t start with blow. Got it?

EARLE: Yes…

Earle’s face drops, the guilt almost weighing down the skin around his eye sockets.

DAPHNE (O.S): Looking forward to it… What’s your name?

EARLE (sadly): Cunt-Fuck.

DAPHNE (O.S): Is that German?

EARLE: Sure.

Earle puts down the receiver. He sniffs and wipes his nose.

Thumping electronic music sounds from inside the bathroom.

EARLE: Dr Eel! The Neighbours, please-

The music is nudged louder.

Earle rests his head against the wood of the door, weary.

The purple light of dawn seeps through the window, intensifying with every minute.

The doorbell rings. Earle’s paralyzed.

The doorbell rings again, but this time the ringing is sustained.

Earle goes to duck and hide but is too late.

DAPHNE (O.S): I can see you in there! I’m not swapping my jammies for corsets for no money.

The door shakes as it’s banged.

Earle answers the door.

DAPHNE (58) stands on the other side. Older and fatter than her picture.

She barges past.

DAPHNE: What the fuck was that about? Told you I didn’t have the time for games. That’s extra.

Earle stares at the picture in the yellow pages. Looking up and down to persuade himself it’s the right woman. Daphne catches him.

DAPHNE: After the 80s, came the 90s and this is what they did me. Like I said I ain’t got all night.

Daphne drops her coat to reveal her body, like raw sausage meat poking through a complex of leather straps and fishnets. Earle grimaces but Daphne steels.

DAPHNE: Money. Now.

Earle scrambles for the cash.

DAPHNE: Actually, I’m desperate for a wizz. Back in a min-

Daphne turns to go to the bathroom but Earle goes green.

EARLE: Wait!

DAPHNE: I can piss on you, but that’ll be £30 on top of what we’ve agreed.

Earle’s thinks about it.

EARLE: Really?

Daphne takes another step closer to the bathroom.

EARLE: No, stop!

Guilt overcomes him.

EARLE: I can’t do this-

DAPHNE: You called me, remember?

EARLE: I’m not, I-

Daphne laughs as Earle squirms.

EARLE: What I’m about to tell you is… I just need you to believe me. It’s weird, I don’t really believe it myself but-

DAPHNE: Spit it out.

EARLE: There’s an eel. A talking one. In there. And I think it wants to chop you up. I told him no but he wouldn’t take it. He said to bring you here and-

DAPHNE: You were going to feed me to at talking fucking eel?

EARLE: Not feed, I’m not really sure what he wants. I think he likes blood or maybe organs I’m not really sure.

Daphne lights up a cigarette.

DAPHNE: I knew you were into some sick fucking stuff, but this?

EARLE: I was hoping he wouldn’t eat you.

DAPHNE: Where is he?

Earle nods solemnly to the bathroom.

Daphne sighs knowingly.

DAPHNE: £40 now then £40 after.

EARLE: I’m feeling quite vulnerable right now, I’m not sure I could… perform as I’d like-

DAPHNE: I’m not going to fuck you.

Daphne gestures to the bathroom door.

DAPHNE: I’ve seen this before.

EARLE: Oh.

DAPHNE: I should have known by the way you were chewing the inside of your cheek.

Earle claps his hand across his mouth, feeling for himself just how tight his jaw is.

DAPHNE: I need rubber gloves, a bread knife and salt.

Earle stares in disbelief.

DAPHNE: Now.

Earle scrambles for the items in the kitchen.

Daphne lights another fag.

DAPHNE: Nice place…

She picks up a family photo from the side and snorts.

DAPHNE: You a Salmon?

The sound of Earle clattering around from the other room.

EARLE (O.S): Yeah, why?

DAPHNE (mutters): Like father, like son.

Earle returns triumphantly. Daphne swipes the items from his arms and pockets the £40 into the leather strap of her girdle. She pings the plastic gloves onto her hands as if a vet would at the rear end of cow.

Earle watches as she marches towards the bathroom. Naked aside from her bondage.

Earle winces as he sees her stub her cigarette out on the carpet. Daphne bashes the door down with her hoof-like foot. Earle goes to follow but she slams the door shut.

A high-pitched squeal ruminates from the bathroom.

Earle can’t bear to hear it.

The sound of water thrashing. It lasts forever to Earle’s ears.

Daphne eventually emerges from the bathroom holding the decapitated head of Dr Eel. It’s as if a bucket of blood had been poured over head. She coolly slicks her hair back and scoops the blood from her eyes. Two pearl-like peepers peer back through the ruby gloop.

She lights a cigarette. Breathing in the smoke with resolve.

She holds out the palm of her hand and a shaken Earle places £40 within it.

DAPHNE: Let me know what to expect next time. I wouldn’t have worn this.

Daphne dumps Dr Eel’s head next to Earle and leaves without another word.

Earle slumps to the floor, weary and broken. Stunned.

His eyes heavy, he falls into a deep sleep.

INT. FRONT ROOM, OCEAN VIEW HOTEL – MORNING

Hungover, Earle remains collapsed against the wall. The room is blood-stained. Dr Eel’s chopped head next to him. The end credits of Inspector Morse speed downwards on the TV.

The sound of the front door opening and closing. There’s footsteps for a few moments until suddenly they stop. A startling scream pierces the house.

Earle bolts awake. The force almost makes him sick.

EARLE: Shit, shit, shit-

MRS SALMON (59) appears from around the corner. Furious, she stands over Earle.

MRS SALMON: Have you seen the state of that bathroom?

EARLE: I’m sorry, mum.

Mrs Salmon burns red.

MRS SALMON: You’ve been doing drugs again, haven’t you?

Earle hangs his head in shame.

MRS SALMON: I told you, no drugs!

Earle goes to open his mouth but no words come out. She knows when he’s lying.

MRS SALMON: You haven’t even bothered to wipe the tiles.

Mrs Salmon storms from the room.

Earle is left alone, a naughty and sad little boy.

Mrs Salmon caught Earle a couple of times a year in his early twenties. He did it because it felt good – for a while anyway – a pursuit of pure, selfish pleasure where the dopamine hit was only equalled by online shopping and not much else.

0 notes