#she's not awkwardly short i'm just bad at legs

[caede9]

my second ever artfight attack, and my first ever polish.

sofie belongs to @ solisthesun (find them on https://www.instagram.com/solisthesun/)

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream finding out that their idol! gf overworked. 

Mark Lee

Mark learned that you've been promoting your comeback with a fever when one of your co-members told him. You're passionate about your job and this comeback is one of your favorite because of the concept, that's why you couldn't bear to miss the promotion. So when your boyfriend show up to your dorm uninvited, you knew that you don't have to hide it from him anymore. He bought you (and your co-members) food! plus medicine and energy drinks for you. He lets you rest and while you rest, you two talked about your situation calmly. Mark understands your sentiments but asks you to promise him that you won't overwork yourself. 

Huang Renjun

Same case with Mark, I feel like you'll hide that you're promoting the comeback with a fever! Not to mention, you've been working nonstop since the start of the year. Comeback, concerts, solo activities, and another comeback. It's bound for your body to shut down. So when Renjun found out through your co-member, I feel like he'll be mad at you! Why didn't you tell him!? So when he visited you, bringing care package like food, and medicine, it'll come with lots of lots of lecture (lovingly) from your boyfriend! He loves you so much but you should look after your health. Renjun also told you that do it not for him, but for your fans. You only nod, thinking that you're lucky that Renjun's there for you. 

Lee Jeno

Jeno would be shocked when he learned that you went on a short hiatus due to health concerns. He didn't notice it because you would convince him that you're fine everytime you two would meet up or talk. Once he learned the reason why behind you went hiatus, Jeno immediately called you. You already accepted that Jeno will be mad at you, but the first thing he asked was, "are you okay?" and that made you cry. You couldn't help but to vent on your boyfriend who silently comforted you. You told him that your health is declining these days and you couldn't properly function anymore. Jeno understands your sentiments and could only assure you that your health should come first. He then tells you that he'll drop by at your place so that he can take care of you personally. <3

Lee Donghyuck

"You've been coughing every minute, are you okay?" Haechan sent the message and then glances at the screen on his laptop. You're having a random live with a fellow member at the moment. She's building a lego set and wanted you to join, so despite having a cough and fever, you helped her. But it was quick to notice how you glance at your phone from time to time because of your boyfriend's messages. Haechan can see how your forehead creased when you read his message so he sent another one, "don't be angry, im supposed to be angry! why didn't you told me you were sick!?" once the live ended. You have to face an angry Haechan who nagged you for hours because you hid your sickness from him. In the end, you apologized to him because you knew he's just concerned for you. 

Na Jaemin

You thought that it wouldn't be obvious but when you saw how Jaemin's face went from smiling to a concerned look, you knew that you were bad at hiding. "You look pale," he pointed out. "Pale? what do you mean, I'm always pale," you lied, laughing awkwardly. But Jaemin crossed his arms and then stared at you with a serious expression. That's why you have no choice but to tell your boyfriend that you actually came back from the hospital because you have to take a medicines for your health. Once Jaemin learned this he'll be disappointed that you hid your sickness from him. "You got me worried you know that? Tell me next time so that I can accompany," he said to you. "Babe, if you accompany me, they'll know that we're dating." "I don't care about that, I care about your health." 

Zhong Chenle

You're promoting at the same with NCT Dream, and during your promotions, you accidentally injured your legs. You tried to brush it off thinking that it's just a mild sprain, but after your pre-recording stage, you couldn't help but feel that the pain is striking on your whole legs already. So when you got off the stage, you were limping until you reached the backstage where Chenle is coincidentally at the hallway. He'll be surprised to see you, but then helps you have seat first. He'll ask if you're okay and you tried to brush it off, that's when your boyfriend became angry, "what do you mean it's nothing!? you're limping! stop forcing yourself or it'll get worse," his tone was a bit harsh but you know that he's just worried about you, and you couldn't help but to hug him to seek comfort. Chenle, even though he's still mad, hugs you back. 

Park Jisung

It was late when you realized that you made a mistake of giving your fans an update through bubble message because Jisung also suscribes to your bubble! So when he called you a few minutes after you sent those message, you just realized what you have done. "What do you mean you're sick?" he asked with a concerned tone. You told him that it's just a fever and you were advised to take a few weeks to rest, "a few week rests for a fever doesn't sound good to me." his tone became more serious, that's why you immediately apologize to him because you knew that Jisung's always there to remind you about your health and well-being! So learning that you're sick means that you just ignore his words. "Take care of yourself okay? I can't be there because I'm out the country but please, please take care of yourself okay?" you only smile as you said okay to him. 

[radiant-reid]

hi cate! this is my first ask sooo i’m nervous to send this tee hee but i love your acc and i’ve got a front row seat on the hot wife wagon 🤪 and let me tell you cate i have thoughts. lots of them.

but what do you think about dr. hot wife stitching up spencer in the ER after a case? like she’s doting on him and bringing him jello and being extra gentle and stuff. and if the team doesn’t know and sees them they’re like 👀👀 “where’d she learn those bedside manners??” “can i get some stitches too?” ok that’s all. i love you and what you do have a great one!! 💖

oh i love this so much and don't be nervous, i love hearing what you think

"What happened?" She asks, walking into the crowded room. Spencer's sitting on the edge of the bed, Morgan's sitting on the chair and Hotch is standing. "I'm Doctor L/n." She introduces herself to them as an afterthought.

Spencer smiles at her voice, pointing to the cut on his forehead. "Someone tried to mess up my pretty face."

She laughs as she turns away to get some gloves. "Well, they didn't succeed." She assures him. "I am going to have to stitch it up, though, so keep your head still."

She grabs what she needs to stitch the sutures into his open wound, standing in between his legs in a way that she wouldn't with any other patient. Spencer, on the other hand, acts professionally and keeps his hands on his thighs.

"So what actually happened?" She asks instead of waiting until they get home.

"I got hit in the back of the head by an unsub and fell into a glass mirror." Spencer answers.

Y/n's eyes widen, but she's happy he's there and only slightly hurt. Being thrown into a mirror could do a lot worse. "Sounds like 7 years of bad luck to me." She says jokingly.

"I don't know." He disagrees. "I think I'm pretty lucky, but I can try it out if it'll help with your assessment."

"Mm, okay." She agrees, carefully working on his face.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asks.

Morgan and Hotch's eyes snap to each other, exchanging odd looks as they both silently wonder whether or not Spencer has a concussion because he has never been that flirty. In all the years they've known him, a question like that or one with those implications has never come out of his mouth.

"I'm married, actually." She answers.

"So I'm going to have to wait out my 7 years of bad luck before asking you out?" He wonders with a pout.

Morgan holds a hand over his open mouth, and Hotch starts worrying they're about to have to deal with a sexual harassment lawsuit.

But she laughs, and not like she's trying to politely shut him down. "I don't know. I'm kind of fond of him."

"I'm going to go see if the rest of the team is here." Morgan awkwardly says, getting out of his chair and leaving the three of them in the room.

"Okay, I think you're good." She says, finishing off the tidy stitch. "Did they check you for a concussion?"

Hotch takes his chance to defend Spencer before he says something unusually stupid. "No, he could have one- he probably has one. He's not usually like this."

She nods, taking off her gloves. "Any memory loss, nausea, unconsciousness, confusion, headaches?" She lists to both of them.

"None of that." Spencer denies. "But I did want to ask if I could take you out on a date."

"Yes, lots of behavioral change," Hotch answers for him.

Y/n looks sternly at her husband. "I won't hesitate to send you for a CT scan." She threatens although she knows he's teasing her because his eidetic memory is working perfectly. It also hilarious to see him freaking his boss out.

"Please, if you're going to come with me." He flirts.

She shakes her head with a little smile, pulling away from him. "Sorry, I've got other patients to see. Do you need anything else?"

He stops short of asking for a kiss. "Just some jello, please."

"Because you used your manners, I'll bring you two." She agrees before leaving the room.

"You don't need jello for one stitch and a few bruises," Hotch tells him once he's sure she's out of earshot.

Spencer shakes his head. "I mean, I should at least stay to say goodbye."

Morgan catches everyone else up as they walk through the hospital and towards Spencer's room. "He was flirting with her. Like actively hitting on her, trying to get her to go out with him."

"We've got to see this." JJ agrees, nods coming from everyone else.

"Wait." Morgan stops them, gesturing to Y/n, who's talking to a nurse. "Her."

They look more surprised then than they did when Morgan informed them of Spencer's odd behavior. "She was flirting with Reid?" Rossi asks in disbelief.

"I'm going to go check myself in," Emily declares, earning a chuckle from the rest of them.

They watch as she walks toward Spencer's room with jello cups. "He's not even getting admitted," JJ says, shaking her head in disbelief. "She's definitely into him."

"Go and watch them flirt. It's disgusting." Morgan says, and the irony is not lost on any of them.

She's spoon-feeding him the jello when they walk into the room like he's got broken hands. "Hey, guys, this is Doctor L/n." Spencer introduces them.

"And I'm guessing she doesn't treat all of her patients like this," Hotch mutters loud enough to have them all laughing.

[milllersfae]

perverted loser bff!ellie headcanons

content warning: perversion, teasing, intoxication mention

a/n: your girl is BACK(?)! again i wont be posting as often, but be assured you'll see me atleast once a month. enjoyyy!

sfw

ɞ when you walk through big crowds, she puts a hand to your back to guide you through the traffic. "i gotcha" she whispers, hand drifting to your waist.

ɞ likes ordering the same thing you get at restaurants, just to feel for the things you like.

ɞ always opens your door for you when you get in her car, wanting to make sure you get in easy.

"i'm not six you know!" you joke, nudging her arm as you close the door.

"i don't want you fucking up my door is all." she was lying bad. she thrived on treating you like hers.

ɞ when the two of you hang out, she always asks you how her outfit looks. "well—what do you think?" she stammers, awkwardly twitching her fingers as you stared at her. you smile, wrapping a shoulder around her. "you look great, el."

ellie nudges you off playfully, resisting the hugest urge to kiss you.

ɞ everyone already thinks the two of you are dating. it’s hard to change anyone’s mind, not with the way with she reaches for your hand in public with awkward reassurance.

nsfw

ɞ loves asking to come over just to be in your presence, being in your bed. she’s daydreamed about parting your legs and eating you passionately as you clung to your own sheets.

ɞ loves when you ask her what clothes to wear. her cunt grows hot as she watches you try on skirts and shorts, the frilled pink thong you wore hypnotizing her waking thought. “i think those shorts look nice…” she utters out, awkward grin hiding her arousal. she loves your reaction to her approval, smoothing the shorts over your hips as she stares at the curve of your ass as you bend down to pick up the remaining bottoms from the floor.

ɞ offers to drive you everywhere; making you her private passenger princess. she’ll reach over to get your seat-belt, face flushing red as she catches a glimpse of your chest to fasten you in. she can’t seem to help to linger her free hand onto your thigh on long drives, thumb rubbing the inner, laying a thick, flushing stroke of heat into your core.

ɞ she gets off work one night, coming over to ease the ache of her long day. you let ellie stay the night, the two of you squishing into your cramped queen bed. you know how she gets into the habit of laying a kiss on your shoulder, gripping you close with the overlap of her forearms. ellie eases a hand under your tank top, pinching the bud of your nipples, making you her own little stress reliever.

ɞ she likes to take you to slummy parties, nervously showing you off to anyone in her sight. the taste of flavored vodka eases down your throat, intoxication lingering on your tongue as ellie slowly inches her way toward you on the velvet-couch. her eyes dart against the sheer of your sundress, putting a securing arm behind your back. you can smell the hot of her alcohol-ridden breath as she rests her drunken face against your cheek.

“you’re so clingy when you’re drunk.” you laugh, face warming at the soft press of rouging skin. her face closes in on yours, lips millimeters apart.

“yea, ‘cause can’t stop myself around you.” she whispers, the press of her upper lip wrapped around yours, a slippery kiss bringing the both of you closer. her hand can’t help but inch under your skirt, a fidgety hand kneeling circles into your clit as your cling your thighs together to hold her in.

taglist | @zahraaziza @millersaurora @ccinnamongrl @ellabsprincess

want to be tagged? go under my masterlist and post reply below!

[the-fiction-witch]

Tennis Match

Media TMR AU

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Smut

Smut Seminonconsenual / nudity / forced orgasm/ anal/ object insertion / squirting

I was a little nervous today as Teresa and I want to meet up with Minho and Newt for a game of tennis. Nervous because I wasn't very good at the game Teresa is but I'm awful. And playing against Newt wouldn't be easy, he's good and Teresa knows full well about my crush on him. And lastly, I was nervous because I left my sports bra at home and there was no way I could play tennis with my usual bra the bones would cut me to pieces so as I wondered thought in my little sports kit I was nervous everyone could see my breasts even if they couldn't but it's still a nervous fear I have. Teresa scanned us in the door with her card and we entered into the room used for tennis and changed the sign in the door to fill meaning we wouldn't be distributed by others opening the door to try and use the room.

It was small court with high walls, skylights and of course the net across it. Minho was stood fixing his hair in his blue shorts and best and newt just beside him having a drink in his orange shorts and white shirt.

"Ooohhh hi girls" Minho smiled

"Hi" she smiled widely giving Minho his hug

"Hi" I waved awkwardly

"Hey love. You okay?" Newt asks

"Yeah just worried you guys are about to destroy me"

"Aww don't worry. I'll go easy on you" he winked going to return his bottle to his bag

I sat my bag down on my side and fiddled with my racket

"Boys vs girls?" Minho suggested

"Of course" Teresa said

"I'm good with that" newt nodded

"We betting?" Minho asked

"No it always ruins it, just for fun" newt said

"Okay, girls serve first. You go y/n" Teresa said grabbing the ball and throwing it over to me I tried to catch it but missed bad dropped the ball, and my racket almost tripping over

"Sorry"

"It's fine, come on girls let's play!" Minho laughed

I did… my best.

Which basically means I came in dead last and basically messed up everytime the ball came near me so the boys made easy work of us. After a good few games I sat on the bench feeling sorry for myself as Teresa grabbed her stuff and Minho's arm

"We're off to get a sports drink, you guys wanna come?" She suggested

Which was Teresa's code for her and Minho are going to the sauna to fool around as honestly every time we came to the fitness center they did it and if may actually be where they do more physical exercise.

"We're good. I was thinking we could play a little just me and you?" Newt suggested

"Are you sure?" I asked sheepishly

"Yeah I'm sure I could give you a hand love, I'd you want that is"

"Thank you, I'd love too" I smiled

Minho and Teresa then left and I felt kinda nervous all alone with newt

"So? One on one?"

"Hummm?"

"Shall we play a game? Just the two of us?"

"Ohh yeah course sorry -"

"It's okay, give me a basic serve and we'll go from there" he says giving me the ball and heading to his own size so I did my best and actually did okay he quickly hit it back and I messed up completely and the ball hit my head

"Owww!"

"Ohh bloody hell sorry y/n"

"It's okay"

"You alright?"

"I think so"

"Okay, let's try again I'll serve this time I promise I'll be nice and gentle" he says giving a very tender serve which I could just about manage "there you go, you're doing great. Now we can get a little faster"

"Okay" I nodded nervously and almost immediately I messed up and need up flat on my butt

"Sorry"

"It's no your fault newt. I'm sorry for being such a mess up"

"Hey it's okay you just need a little more practice" he says "here" he says jumping the net and coming over to me "you should stand a little firmer" he says holding my hips moving me a little and immediately I blushed hard "don't get scared of the ball" he says still adjusting my legs, my hips, my shoulders, "hold the racket a little higher you have better control that way" he says moving his hand up from my waist to stroke my arm and move my hand

"Uhh okay" I nodded

"Don't be so tight loosen the grip a little" he says stroking my hands "see isn't that better?" He asked his breath against my ear

"Yeah, thanks newt"

"No trouble. Keep your swing loose but don't go too crazy" he says, guiding me a little "there you go, see that ball should be scared of you" he says "ohhh nooo don't hurt me y/n I'm just a cute little ball. There's no need to be scared of me" he joked making the ball give My cheek a kiss making me giggle "there, I'll serve" he says taking the ball away and pressing a little kiss to my cheek himself which immediately turned me bright red as he went back to his side and immediately I forgot everything he told me! I did my best to carry in with our game and I didn't do too bad "AHH. Okay point to you"

"Really!"

"Yep."

"Yay!" I giggled

"Your doing good, You just have to remember keep your body square" he says coming and fixing my hips again "okay? Square" he says

"Square. Okay" I nodded

"Good girl love" he smiled "and maybe don't run around so much your skirts rising up" he smirked and I almost had a heart attack as his hand moved from my hip to under my skirt and he snapped my panties

"Ohh I'm so sorry" I said quickly fixing my skirt as I blushed

"Was I complaining?" He chuckled "let's make this game a little more interesting."

"Oh?"

"Next to score a point wins"

"Okay?"

"And the looser has to play the next game with their shirt off"

"Ohh! Uhhh I don't know"

"Come in it'll be fun"

"Well… okay" I blushed and we started our next game I did my best to play as well as I could with such intense focus and I got a point "yay!"

"Alright, deals a deal" he sighed pulling his shirt off revealing his thin but tones sweaty body "yes?"

"Uhhhhh nothing!" I blushed

"Come on your serve love"

"Yeah sorry" so I did my best even if he was so much more distracting now and I wasn't doing too has until it all went wrong.

I gave the ball a firm wack and immediately noticed something was wrong as my feet returned to the floor quickly I noticed my panties had snapped and now the tightness of My thighs is all that kept them on my legs

"Yes! I win" he smirked "you okay?"

"Uhhh I can't play anymore"

"What why not? Come on I thought we were having fun?"

"we were I just… I can't play anymore" I said in panick

"What is it?" He asks getting his shirt back in and coming over "did you hurt yourself?"

"Uhhh…"

"Come on sit down" he says ushering me to the bench "is it your ankle? Did you put your weight wrong? Your leg? Did you maybe pull a muscle? Maybe a cramp?" He suggested running his hands up my legs trying to soothe me I didn't know what to say or how to respond or even his to fix this byhe moved my leg a little too much and my broken panties came rumbling down my legs and onto the floor "oh." He says and I turned bright red wanting to bury myself in the pile of mats "I didn't think I snapped them quiet that hard" he chuckled "sorry love"

"It's okay, not time fault"

"It's okay one of those things no need to be embarrassed" he says still gently stroking my legs "that nice?" He asks as he massaged my leg

"It is but there's nothing wrong with my leg newt"

"I know. I just wanted to make you feel a little better" he Cooes giving my legs a sweet massage it was really nice and did make me feel better so I relaxed a little against the bench enjoying how nice it was until I heard his sly chuckle and I looked down at him noticing he knelt on the floor massaging my leg but he was holding my leg up a little higher then he needed and thus peaking under my skirt "ummm hello"

"Newt!" I yelped pushing my skirt down to hide myself

"Sorry, I was curious" he shrugs "come on, just a little peak" he smirked moving his hands up my legs over my knees as he did he pushed my knees apart and moved himself into the space between them before his hands moved up and across my thighs under my skirt until his hands where stroking over where my panties band would have sat stroking his fingers across me without the elastic and fabric in his way "there's no reason we need to stop our game" he whispered

"But my -"

"Yeah? So what? Maybe you can use it as a distraction for me. Come on you've already been playing all this time without a bra like panties makes any difference"

"You -"

"I'm not stupid love. I know how much your tits bounce. I couldn't help getting distracted by these while we plaid." He smirked taking a hand out from under my skirt and slipping up my top to fondle my breast "uhhh fuck- uummm Plus sometimes your cute little nips poke through your shirt"

"Oh my god" I blushed trying to cover… all of me at this point

"Aww I think it's cute come on one more game then maybe we can go to the sauna and take your whole outfit off" he whispered

"I uhhhh I'd rather we just stay here*

"Yeah? Okay. One more game" he says getting up and kissing my nose before he headed to his side for one more game so I got up nervously unsure how I could play like this "how's about a deal"

"What?"

"If you beat me I'll do whatever you want me too" he winked "but if I win you have to do whatever I want you too"

"Okay" I blushed

"Good girl. Your serve" he smirked throwing me the ball so I did my best all while trying to keep concealed but he was doing gae better then me so I decided to roll my skirt up and purposely bounce around often distracting him but even so he was no match for me not when hes really trying and I quickly lost "I win"

"Okay" I sighed

"Come here love" he smirked leaning on the net so I went over "one leg over"

"Uhh okay" I blushed moving one leg over the net he then smirked and pushed my back down so I bent over

"There we go" he smirked "if you move your Hands your in big trouble" he warns so I nodded "net between your tits" he smirked so I did as he asked adjusting so the net sar between my breasts "good girl. Now feet on the floor" he ordered so I did it "good flat on the floor now and keep those legs wide for me love" he smirked so I did as he asked and he moved slightly so I couldn't see him but he clearly could see me "awww yeah hello love" he smirked slapping my ass "now you stay nice and still for me. I'm gonna play a game I've been wanting to play with you for years" he smirked he pulled my cheeks apart spreading my pussy as he did he adjusted the net so the top plastic protective part of the net now sat against my clit and pussy he smirked holding my skirt up so he could see and he grabbed the nets loops a few down and began to lift or as if curling a weight lifting, tugging and rubbing the net leaving It to mercilessly run against my most sensitive places

"Uhhhhh newt!" I whined bright red as I felt my wetness already dripping down my legs but he just kept going without mercy for a moment "uuuuuuuhhh newt please stop I'll-"

"Aww is it really that good?" He smirked and I nodded "perfect. I wanna watch you cum" he smirked speeding up his movements leaving to squeal for mercy from the overwhelming pleasure but he ignored me only ever muttering things clearly enjoying tormenting me he stopped for a moment giving me a second to breathe but he returned to his pace immediately and I felt the base of his racket push it's way inside my pussy making me squeal as he used it to fuck me all while he still moved the net by now I imagined a puddle on the floor as I was utterly soaked desperate to cum "come on love cum for me. I wanna watch you cum before I fuck you myself" he smirked getting more intense with both and I was so so close my screams uncontrollable "how about I do this?" He smirked pulling the racket out of me using the juices I had covered it in as lube as he pushed it inside analy and thrust his fingers in my pussy which was enough for me to cum squirting all over him and the net "awww good girl love" he smirked slapping my ass taking the racket away and helping me to climbing off the net even if my legs were jelly, he grabbed my ass and pulled me into his chest stating at my breasts as my shirt has ridden up too "you look so fucking good" he growled pulling me into an intense kiss "come on. You walk all the way to the sauna without panties baby I'll fuck you raw"

"Okay newt" I giggled fixing my clothes grabbing my stuff making sure to flash him as I bent over

"Go on I'll be following" he smiled slapping my ass 

[ist4rgirlo]

Hi I have another Conrad fisher x sister request so reader goes swimming and her leg gets stung by a jellyfish and she gets out of the water and goes back to the house and calls Conrad from upstairs and he comes downstairs and makes her sit on the kitchen counter so he can clean it and he comforts her when it stings ( idk if u write for jere if u don’t forget this part if u do please add that he hears her crying downstairs and hugs her to help her move less to like hold her down and comfort her ) and throughout the day Conrad monitors her temp to make sure she doesn’t get a fever <3 ( this is long and so detailed idk if it’s a good or a bad thing I’m sorry also u don’t have to write it now or like at all if you don’t feel like writing platonic ik 3 requests in a row is a lot so tyt and write it when u feel like it <3 ) 

ONE SHOT !

Summary: Jeremiah and Conrad taking care of their sister.

Warnings: JUST FLUFF, maybe a little bit swearing and crying.

Requested by: Anonymous

───────────────────────────

''Connie!'' she exclaimed. I heard my mother yelling loudly, her voice sounded concerned -- here I was, being stung by a jellyfish and crying like a little baby because of the sting I got.

There were two of us in the kitchen when Conrad came running downstairs, looking for mom. The second he saw us, he immediately ran towards us, his eyebrows furrowed, and his voice filled with worry "What happened?"

"Well your sister was trying to surf earlier, I told her no because there would jellyfishes out there but she wouldn't listen!" Mom scolded me, I looked at Conrad with tears in my eyes -- his mouth frowning.

I saw Conrad going beside my mom, rubbing her shoulder, "She's going to be fine, don't worry. I'll clean it mom" my mom just nodded before she went back upstairs to continue cleaning.

─────────────────────────

"IT BURNS!!!" As I screamed, I got up from my seat and sat down on the floor, lying down there sobbing like crazy, I heard Jeremiah run down the stairs, he immediately running to the kitchen after hearing me scream.

"Connie please PLEASE make it go away" I yelled.

"What happened, Connie? y/n?"

"She got stung by a jellyfish"

"Oh you poor girl" Jeremiah frowned before walking towards me, holding onto me -- trying to keep me calm as much as possible.

Conrad panicked, "Shh shh, you're going to be alright okay okay". He went and grabbed me and sat me down on the kitchen counter while Jeremiah was by my side for emotional support.

"Okay, I have to clean so It might sting okay" Conrad said, going towards the cabinet to get some peroxide then kneeling down so he can see my feet better.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH" I yelled, accidentally hitting Conrad on the head. Jeremiah chuckled, laughing at me and Conrad.

Conrad winced, looking up at me and glaring at me. I just smiled awkwardly. "I'm sorry" he just smiled and went back into cleaning my feet.

───────────────────────────

After Conrad had cleaned my feet, they decided to put me into a bathtub and soak my feet in hot water for a while.

He then set me down on the couch so that he could monitor me every so often and also see if I had any bad reactions to the sting as a result of it. After that he made sure that I was asleep.

Throughout the day, Jeremiah sat beside me till I felt better, he was just there comforting me, making sure that I'm okay. Conrad would come and bring me food and he would always check whether or not I was okay.

"You okay, sis?" Conrad sat down beside me -- patting my head. Jeremiah looked at me and smiled.

"I'm alright now, thanks to you guys" I smiled up a him and Jeremiah before leaning my head on Conrad's shoulder -- feeling myself drift to sleep.

───────────────────────────

this one is kinda short so im sorry about that !! im trying to work on something which i am very excited bout :)) if y'all have requests just lmk !!

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #4] The Gym

warnings: a gym. no further warning. oh and jk is sexy but what’s new?

soundtrack: 20 something - sza, angostura - keshi

wc: 4.1k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

Glancing down to the address that Hoseok had hastily scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, you sigh. It's a hearty one. Clears your lungs. Gets your blood pumping a little swifter. There's a weight to staying alive, and it feels like it might just crush down on your windpipe and suffocate you altogether.

Okay, so maybe you're being dramatic. Maybe this is fine. You tell yourself to 'get a grip', but you know it's useless.

It's not that you're nervous - except for the fact you completely are - you just don't like the idea of gyms. They remind you of your ex a little too much. 

More specifically, how he'd force you to go along with him, and how you'd whine and moan, but spend the entire time laughing with him. How he'd lift you instead of weights. How he'd tell you that you look 'far too hot' in a pair of leggings and sports bra, and the way you'd keep them on until you got home just for the simple pleasure of him being the one to take them off.

So, yeah. You don't like gyms. Avoid them when you can.

Partially because you don't know which one he goes to anymore, but mainly because it feels like you can't breathe whenever you see a pair of shoulders almost broad enough to be his. There tend to be a lot of jacked guys in gyms. Makes it a more common occurrence.

Still, you've been trying to remedy that. Trying to face fears. Failing, but trying at least.

You swallow back the lump in your throat. Bite the bullet. Open the door. Easy. 

The girl at the front desk is potentially the most drop-dead gorgeous woman you've ever seen. Blonde, petite, a smile that could end wars. She's laughing with another member of staff - a trainer, you think - before he goes into a backroom.

You're a little unsure of yourself still, but she's glowing in such a way that it feels like maybe this could be okay. Nothing to fear. Plus who would even bother looking at a man's shoulders when someone who looks like she does is around? Far more captivating. Endlessly more appealing.

Her smile focuses on you as you walk towards her, brows lifted, eyes wide and open as if to say 'hiya! welcome!'. Her voice is just as chirpy as you imagine when she greets you.

"I don't think I recognise you," she says, questioning herself before she makes an introduction. "My name's Jiyeong, I'm a trainer here. Are looking to sign up for a membership?"

You shake your head and laugh a little awkwardly. You're not really dressed for the gym - a pair of sweats and a slouchy Carhartt tee. It's not sports gear appropriate for a place like this. Everyone's in skin-tight lycra, and they all look great wearing it. Makes you think that maybe you should try and get over this fear for good. Become one of those people.

"No, actually," you grimace a little awkward, voice sweet. You know you're gonna be asking for a favour, so try and fail to keep it short. Instead, you ramble a little. "I'm meeting someone here, but I don't have my phone - he's got it actually. Dumb accident. Long story actually, completely my fault - anyways, I was wondering if you'd be able to buzz me through so I could just grab it quickly? I'll be five seconds, in and out. Please."

It's at this point the corners of her mouth drop a little. Her lips press together. She's still smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes anymore. "Hmm?"

"His name is Jeongguk," you begin to explain further - but then she smiles again and cuts you off.

"Oh, I don't think I know a Jeongguk?" She pouts a little. "Anyways, I'm really sorry but I can't let you through without a membership. Company policy. I really wish it wasn't the case, but they track the entry process."

You don't want to put her out. You've worked in customer service for long enough to know not to push company protocol. It's not worth getting fired over just to make a customer's life a tiny bit easier - and so you nod. 

"Of course, totally understand," you say as you glance over to the gate that allows access into the workout area. It needs a passcode. Can't even make a dash for it - although you're half tempted to when you see a couple come through the gate without a care in the world. It takes an absolute age to shut. "Do you guys do day memberships here? I literally just need to get in and out, but I'll pay for a day pass if I need to."

Something about Jiyeong is really throwing you off. She's smiling, and she looks like butter wouldn't melt, but there's a sourness to it all. There's no butter. Just curdled milk.

She winces apologetically. Shrugs. Brings her shoulders to her ears in a way you would have found sweet maybe five minutes ago. Shakes her head. 

"They're referral only. You'll need someone with a preexisting membership with you. But!" She chirps up. "We have a month pass you can purchase instead."

For all of your common sense faux pas, and the bad decisions that have led you here, you're not actually stupid. No gym in their right mind would actively try and sabotage their own earnings. She's spewing bullshit, but is somehow managing to make it smell like roses.

"A month?" You question, trying not to let your frustration show.

"Mhhm," she nods.

Her beauty seems to fade with every smile. Ironic, really. Her friendly demeanour is what had made her so attractive, and now it's shattering the illusion.

In any other circumstance, you'd say fuck it, and head home - but Jeongguk has your phone. 

You said you'd meet him here. You could wait until he finishes his workout but you have no idea when that will be, and you're still suffering from your hangover. You just want to get it over and done with, so you say, "Alright, I'll sign up for a month. No rolling contract."

"No rolling contract," she nods. "Okay. Just need a few details from you."

There's a form to fill out; payment details to be given. A box to tick: which trainer helped you sign-up? Small print: Trainers earn a small commission for every sign-up. Please ask for their name. 

You're half tempted to check another trainer's name, but she's watching you like a fucking hawk.

Should have just chosen the club. Would have been easier. Could have even made a night of it - it's a Saturday after all. But no, you and your tiny marble brain thought that the gym would be easier? Better?

Ridiculous. Hoseok had been right all along. It was the worst choice you'd made all week.

"You're all ready," she smiles as you lament the choices of your past self. She says a goodbye that sounds friendly but feels like a fuck you. You're not sure what exactly you've done to rub her up the wrong way, but you'd quite like it if you never rubbed shoulders with her again.

There's a mechanical whir as you enter a pin into the gate. It opens for you with a small beep, and you feel like your throat is closing up a little bit. There's a wrought iron staircase leading up to the weight area, the bottom level focused more on machines and cardio. A third floor is reserved for studios and private classes according to the signage, so you decide he's probably not there.

You don't know much about this man, but you have seen him without a shirt on. The weight area seems like a safe bet. 

There's an uncomfortable discord in your chest as you head up to the second floor, your black high-top chucks padding against the metal gently. Hair up, not even trying to pretend like you're not still hanging, part of you regrets dressing so casually.

Your skin feels all hot and clammy, and you know exactly why, but you try and convince yourself that it's just the hangover. That's all it is.

It'll pass, you tell yourself. In and out. You're alright.

Jeongguk notices you before you notice him. He's by the mirrors. Caught sight of you, your eyes all wide and worried - presumably in search of him -  as he was checking his form. Putting his weight down, he turns to face you a little more straight on, which is what draws your focus to him.

"Hey," he says a little breathlessly, a tone of surprise evident. He whips a towel over his shoulder, and you're reminded of how he looked behind the bar of Dionysus. Dabs at his face a little. Shakes his head to adjust the hair that is stuck to his forehead from his workout.

"What are you doing up here?" He asks tenderly, conscious of the fact you look like you've seen a ghost. He's aware he probably doesn't look his best, but he didn't think he looked that bad. "I told Jiyeong to let me know when you arrived. Was just gonna bring it down, save you the hassle."

"Oh," you reply, a little stuck on your words. The burning in your throat is subduing. The pressure on your chest feels a little lighter. 

"Sorry, I -" you begin, and then you remember who the fuck you are. You hate being like this. Hate when you get panicked. Hate that he seems to be looking at you with concern. Also hate that Jiyeong is apparently a massive dick, but you'll choose to be frustrated about that later. "I actually have a membership here."

Joy.

Jeongguk hums in surprise, head tilting, mouth forming a cute little 'o'. "You do? Never seen you here before."

Wonder why.

"Oh yeah, here all the time," you nod, because apparently Jiyeong isn't the only one who fancies being a big old liar today. And then you smile. Flirt. "Like, maybe even more than you."

Now, this he does raise a brow at. Smirks. Picks up his weight as he moves to straddle the bench beside him. He sits down and places the weight beneath his arms for something to lean on. "Not so sure about that."

He's wearing black chucks, too. Slouchy black tee. The only real difference is that he's in shorts. Your lips curve upwards, but you catch them before he notices.

"I'm just always downstairs," you shrug, playing off your little white lie like it's no biggie. "Surprised I haven't seen you about here, either."

You don't mean to be such an egregious liar, you're just embarrassed. Ashamed. Disconcerted by the fact you know you looked like a lost puppy when you arrived, and also how you know Jiyeong totally played some weird power move on you. You're not sure what to make of it. Don't like it, but also will likely never see her again. Not worth it. Not over some guy you don't intend on ever seeing again, either.

The logical assumption to be made is that she's involved with him in some capacity. Makes sense. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to get lonely in the early hours.

Jeongguk accepts your bullshit. He knows it's bullshit because he does cardio as much as he does weights - anyone with an inkling of gym knowledge would be able to tell. He's sure you have your own niche, things that would win you points on a pub quiz, but the gym? Doesn't seem likely.

"Phones just in my locker," he tells you as he gets to his feet again, lifting his weight like it's a cup of coffee. You've no idea how much it weighs. Doubt you'd be able to make it look that effortless. "I'm just finishing up. Can you wait, like, five minutes? Or do you have places to be?"

His skin is dappled in rivulets of sweat. There's too much to take in visually, so you focus on his voice, instead. It's soft. Tender. Kind, you think. 

And so despite the fact there's no place you'd rather be less, you smile. Nod. "I can wait."

He nods back, says thank you, and gets back to his weights. He does a few more reps just to get to his daily goal, and then sets about clearing his area; puts the weights back on the rack, wipes down his bench. Runs his hand through his damp hair. Exhales a deep breath before turning to face you with a smile.

You wonder if he can notice the drool you've been trying not to let slip. 

He can't - but finds it curious how he didn't catch your gaze a single time during his final few reps. The gym is relatively quiet at this time of day, so there's no one in the immediate vicinity. Whenever he'd glanced in the mirror, your eyes were elsewhere.

One place in particular. 

The other mirror; one that's angled in such a way you can see his side profile. Jeongguk's aware of it. Had kind of positioned himself in line with it on purpose. 

"What's so interesting?" he asks and is met with a confused hum. Does he really think you're gonna admit to checking him out? Dream on. "You were just like... absorbed by that mirror. Good reflection?"

"Oh," you mumble, cheeks deepening in tone - and yet your poker face is just so good. "Was zoned out. Didn't notice."

He doesn't call you out on it any further. For all he knows, you could be telling the truth.

You wait for him by the entryway gate as he gets changed. Jiyeong watches you from the corner of her eye, being as discreet as she possibly can - but you can feel her eyes on you. In fact, she's as good at discretion as you were when you were watching Jeongguk work out.

When he finally emerges in a pair of grey shorts and hoodie, you smile. So does Jiyeong. 

He greets you. Ushers you through the gate. Says hi and bye to Jiyeong. Puts a hand on the top of your back as he opens the front door of the gym, but insists you walk through first. 

"How are you feeling today?" He asks as you make your way down the path that leads to the subway station. "Still rough?"

"That obvious?" You laugh. "Ouch. Thanks, dude."

"No," he laughs back. "You're forgetting I was the only sober person in my apartment last night. You drank enough to kill a person."

"That's not true," you accuse, before deflecting the blame. "Was all you and your Purple Starfuckers. Bloody lethal."

"Bloody brilliant," he counters. There's an ease as you walk side by side. You chalk it up to finally being out of the gym. Feels like you can breathe again. "Tell me you didn't keep coming back for more."

He has a point. You're surprised you didn't all drink the bar dry. But you simply laugh. Tap the crease of his elbow lightly with the back of your hand. 

He's smiling, too.

"Tell me you didn't keep giving me them for free! On the house! What kind of maniac turns down free drinks?!"

You've got a point. He can't argue against it - so instead he just gets a little argumentative. It's all in good fun. Shared humour. 

"Well then next time, you'll get nothing on the house, how about that? Not even water."

You snort a little, pushing your head back as you do so. You pass the first subway exit, with no idea if you're heading in the right direction for one another. Neither of you asks; neither of you declares. 

"Next time?" You scoff, still hanging. "I'm never drinking again."

"Heard that one before."

"I mean it. This hangover has written me off. Work almost killed me."

He wonders where you work. Wonders if the work is gruelling, or if you'd been able to recover in peace. He hopes for the latter. Would tease you if it's the former.

"You working tomorrow?" he pipes up. There's curiosity in his tone, but not enough for you to realise just how intrigued he is by you.

He's never seen a girl walk out on Jimin before. Ever. It's kind of remarkable. He wants to know why. Doesn't want to ask why, though.

You shake your head. "Day off." 

Thank god.

Jeongguk considers his options. He knows full well, walk-out or not, that you fucked Jimin last night. It adds complexity. Makes him unsure of his next steps. 

It's not like he's trying to get in your pants - he'd never hear the end of it from the boys if he went for Jimin's leftovers - but he'd be a liar if he said he didn't like your presence at the bar last night.

Not just you. All three of you. You've good energy. He enjoys the nights when punters are actually fun. If tonight is gonna be busy, he'd rather it be busy on his own terms.

"DJ's are doing a throwback theme tonight," he hums, and the way you stop in your tracks is beyond satisfying for him. He loves it when a plan comes together.

"Throwbacks, you say?"

He stops too, and turns to look at you with a slight air of nonchalance. There's a shrug to his broad shoulders, which remarkably don't remind you of your exes, his wide eyes soft as a subtle smile graces his lips. "All bangers."

"Define bangers," you challenge.

And oh, how Jeon Jeongguk loves a challenge. 

"Well," he says as he begins walking again. You follow. "Last time there were a LOT of old-school Taylor Swift songs."

"Keep talking."

"Timbaland, Rihanna - I'm talking proper noughties classics."

"I'm listening."

"Outkast, Coldplay, Arctic Monkeys-"

"Offt."

"-Kanye, Mika, you name it. One Direction, fuckin' anything. They'll play it."

"Do they take requests?"

"Well, no I didn't mean they'll literally play anything you name," he laughs. "But you've got an in." He points at himself, seemingly proud of that fact. "I can get them to play whatever you want."

"Offt, I love having friends in high places," you muse, to which he tells you to 'fuck off' with the biggest grin on his face you've seen all day. "I'll think about it. You on the bar?"

He nods. "I am indeed."

"Hmm. Makes it less tempting."

Jeongguk wants to fight back, but knows that he'd probably end up flirting, and it's not his intention - so he changes the topic. 

"Jimin might be there, too. A friendly face."

He doesn't notice the way your face scrunches up a little uncomfortably. 

"I'm not really sure that'll sway me," you tell him. "Was a one-time thing. Sorry about that, again. Waking you, I mean. Not cool."

You really do believe your words - after all, Jeongguk had been the one to return your phone, not Jimin. Chivalry is dead, and apparently men get their housemates to return glass slippers, these days.

It's kind of Jeongguk's own fault.

Jimin doesn't know you've lost it. Jeongguk hasn't told him. Isn't sure why. Didn't really think about it at the time.

"It's fine, really. And I've lived with Jimin long enough to know it's never just a one-time thing."

"I'm an exception."

"Believe it when I see it."

And suddenly you feel challenged now - but you're by the final subway entrance. You've walked past three exits already. Should have really taken the first. Couldn't bring yourself to end the conversation earlier. 

However, now that the conversation has turned towards the topic of Jimin, you find yourself less inclined to continue it. You'd rather not be reminded of your questionable drunk decisions in the cold, sober light of day.

"This is me," you tell him. 

"Ah." He stops walking. Pauses. Looks at his Chuck Taylor-clad feet as he stands in front of you. He's holding onto the strap of his rucksack as he asks, "So you'll be at the club tonight?"

When he looks up, he's nibbling down on his bottom lip—toying with his lip ring. There's a hesitancy to his words, as if he's afraid you might say no.

You pretend as if you're weighing up your options, shifting your weight from foot to foot, lips pursed. You know if you propose the idea to Hoseok he'll jump at the chance to get shitfaced again, and where the pair of you venture, Danbi will surely follow. It's inevitable that you will end up at Dionysus tonight. 

But you simply smile and say, "Maybe."

He rolls his eyes, and it makes you laugh. He laughs, too. It's sweet, the way his energy matches yours. There's an ease to your rapport. You think it must be incredibly easy to be his friend. 

"Promise me a free Purple Starfucker, and I'll consider it a little bit more," you bargain.

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, as he readjusts his bag over his shoulder, shaking his head a little. His eyes are glossy, and dark, and you think they look just like black treacle.  

"Maybe."

"Okay then," you nod. "See you maybe, Jeongguk."

He nods back. "See you maybe, Disco Ball."

"I won't come if you call me a disco ball again," you shout back as you descend down the stairs, leaving him by the exit.

He chooses not to banter back, scared he could ruin the moment; make things awkward, somehow. Instead, he turns on his heel, and begins retracing his steps. 

His turning was three junctions ago. He'd carried on walking just to talk bullshit with you. He chalks it up to him being too awkward to cut the conversation off. 

See, he might like a challenge, but he's plagued by the realities of them, too. Hates the idea of people not liking him. Wants to be loved universally, so refuses to embark on endeavours that could prove otherwise. He's Mr What If, and he's quite content that way. 

Jeongguk's nearly by the first crossing when he hears you shouting after him. You're a little breathless. Panting. He knows there's absolutely no way you do cardio.

"Wait, wait!" You call all flustered and hurried. "Jeongguk! Wait!" 

He's already waiting. The lights are still red. You're too concerned by your own internal panic to notice.

"Phone!" You almost wail, before you laugh. Inhale. Rest your palms on your knees. Exhale. Look up towards him. "My phone, Jeongguk! You still have my phone."

"Oh, shit," he laughs, pulling off his rucksack and fishing about for it. Seems so stupid to have forgotten about it. His cheeks are hot. 

It's returned promptly, apologies tumbling from his lips like laughter is falling from yours.

"This was all part of your plan, wasn't it?" You narrow your eyes accusingly. "Was gonna keep it so I had to go to the club."

He raises his arms, hands next to his ears, palms spread open, as if he's holding a white flag. "You caught me."

But it'll be Jeongguk catching you later - or at least your gaze, as he reciprocates a knowing smile when you inevitably end up in Dionysus, ready to make all the wrong choices all over again.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 5

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

You and I were Fireworks by percyspandapillowpet

“Eleven fifty-eight,” he said, and when he tilted his head back up, his eyes were sparkling. “There’s still enough time to go see the fireworks,” Nico realized aloud. “Do you want to…” Will shook his head, expression unchanging. “Nah. Fireworks are overrated. I’d rather stay here with you.”

look one thing this author can nail is SWEET. also will with his seltzer made me smile idk why but it did. im just a huge fan of slice of life stories and this is such a cute one!!

2. Love Wins by percysandapillowpet

“I’ll be right there!” he shouted, and the knocking stopped. On a count of three, he managed to push the duvet off his arms and legs and let his feet fall to the floor. He glanced down at what he was wearing—a black t-shirt and flannel pants, that would have to do—and walked over to the door. “What do you want, Solace?” he asked, pulling it open. Will was all smiles and sunshine. “Did you hear?” Nico narrowed his eyes. “Hear what? If this is some big event, then no, because I’ve been asleep like a normal person.” Will might as well have been jumping up and down, he looked so excited. “Nico, they did it! The Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage for the entire country! This morning!”

i read this fic in 2017 actually. and i REMEMBER how huge 2015 was; i'm canadian but it was massive. i was 12/13ish so i was in percy jackson back then too, and i remember reading DOZENS of fics that came out right after. this was so huge and this fic captures that :)

3. I Think You're My Best Friend by percyspandapillowpet

“You know what always makes cleaning more fun?” Will asked, sweeping a pile of dust and dirt into the center of the room. “What?” Nico replied, trying to hold back a smile. He found himself doing that a lot these days, too. Will set his broom down against one of the cots that lined the wall. “Music!”

this one made me melt bc personally....if someone called me their favourite i would never ever recover. never ever. and i love short & sweet fics about specific interactions/moments!! and this author nails that!!

4. Darkness by percyspandapillowpet

“So,” Will says, slightly awkwardly, making Nico realize that he forgot to respond to whatever he last said. “Um, you wanted something to take your mind off things?” He pulls back from the hug just enough to see his face, holding him at arms length. “I’ve, uh, got an idea.” He’s not used to Will looking so unsure of himself. He’s always acting so overly cocky. Kiss me, Nico thinks. “What?” he asks. Will smiles, then, his confidence restored. “Let’s go for a hike.”

sweet kisses in nature....the big three boys truly know how it's done bc the way i would SWOON and crumble. also i love it when nico is so so bad at like talking to people lol. hes so real.

5. Past, Present, Future by percyspandapillowpet

“We’ll help her, okay?” Will continues. “We’ll do the best that we can. You and I both know what this feels like. We need to give her support and take care of her for a while.” He nods again, glancing at her sleeping form in the cot. She looks a little less pained, and a little more peaceful. Nico is already dreading how she might react when she wakes again. “We’ll take care of her,” he repeats.

first of all proposal fics get me literally every time. second of all i do love fics where ppl explore what theyre future might look like!!! what they might be when theyre older!! theyre so careful with each other u know.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[starboundpix]

i. (love is) a gift

you just want a regular scarecrow. not whatever this shiny metal scarecrow-esque thing is. too bad your aunt didn't get the memo.

daycare attendant x reader ✧ 1.3k words farm au, gender neutral reader, reader is a farmer, lots of pets and animals, reader does some heavy lifting

note: this is the first writing piece I'm posting for the fnaf fandom! my roommates have been dragging me down this hole the entire semester, so here I am >.< I hope you enjoy!

When you mentioned to your aunt in passing that you desperately need a scarecrow because the birds keep ruining your newly planted garden, you didn’t think she paid that much attention to you. She must have been listening and decided to use her rich aunt privileges because here you are in your barn, ankle deep in packaging paper and hay, staring at a large wooden crate turned on its side, jaw dropping at the sight of gold and light yellow metal spilling out of the opening.

This most definitely is not the kind of scarecrow you were planning to purchase.

A brief search through the packaging paper in the crate reveals a thin booklet titled Farm Helper Manual. The cover depicts two cartoon characters: one in the same coloration as your metal scarecrow and the other in varying shades of blue and black with highlights of a soft silvery-grey. They are like the sun and moon personified and their fun poses within the stalks of corn evoke a bit of amusement that breaks up the shock that had settled in.

You start flipping through the pages, skimming the titles and headers. You just want to find out how to set the scarecrow up because you don’t think mounting it on a wooden pole in the traditional fashion would work out.

“‘Battery and operation,’” you read out loud. One of your chickens clucks at you in response, then pecks the scarecrow, beak glancing off metal with a plink. “Henrietta! Don’t dent my scarecrow.” You wave your hand at the red-feathered hen and she ruffles her wings, disgruntled, settling a few steps away. Sighing, you keep reading the page. “‘Your farm helper-’ cute term for a scarecrow, ‘-is both solar powered and battery powered. Once fully charged, it will operate for 48 hours before reaching low-power mode and has three more hours before shutting off completely.’ What, is that it?” 

A quick flip through the rest of the pages doesn’t reveal anything about how to set the scarecrow up, which is extremely unhelpful.

Tossing the booklet to the side, you move to stand before the crate, hands on your hips as you eye the mass of metal enrobed in rather sad, brown, sack-like cloth. Well if the book won’t tell you much, you can figure this out yourself. You’ve been able to fix the machines and tools you need for farmwork, so you certainly can set this metal scarecrow up in your garden. You hope.

This scarecrow is so. Immensely. Heavy. 

Your shoulders and arms ache terribly from the odd combination of carrying, pushing, and pulling that is necessary to get the scarecrow into your wheelbarrow. It doesn’t get any easier when you have to lift the wheelbarrow scant inches off the ground to push it to your garden, careful to avoid the fresh green and yellow sprouts of vegetables and herbs.

Now, you have the miserable task of somehow getting this hunk of metal out of the wheelbarrow and set up to charge under the sunlight.

After staring at it for a moment, you make the short trip to your house and grab a chair from the wrap-around porch, awkwardly shuffle-walking with it in your arms until you return to the wheelbarrow. You set the chair down, wiggling it until the legs sink a bit into the dirt to make sure it won’t topple over.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you tell yourself, shaking out your arms to prepare for the difficult task ahead. 

First, you move the scarecrow’s legs over the edge of the wheelbarrow, each limb weighing just as much as your large Australian Shepherd who has wandered over to witness your struggles. 

You pause to rub your dog’s side when he stops by your feet, his tongue out and tail wagging. “Come to laugh at me, Pluto?” He barks once, sharp and short, before leaving you to lay down on the dirt a bit away from the chair.

Smiling at him, you continue on with your task. You pull the scarecrow’s arms to rest over your shoulders, and after a moment to catch your breath, you heave your weight forward, pulling with all your might. For a moment, you think that the scarecrow will not budge. But the weight starts to get heavier and heavier on your shoulders, the wheelbarrow falls onto its side, and the entire weight of this scarecrow is pressing down on you.

You stumble forward, then find enough balance to walk the three steps needed to get to the chair. Quickly, you shrug the scarecrow’s arms off your shoulders and lean back until you hear the scraping of metal and fabric on wood and suddenly feel infinitely lighter.

Air whooshes past your lips in an exhale. Rolling your shoulders helps to ease some of the pain and tension that has gathered in your arms, but you surely will feel the ache for the next few days. You’re used to the hard labor of farm work, sure, but you rarely have to lift this much weight at once. Why on earth did they make a scarecrow this heavy? 

Turning around, your eyes grow wide when you take in the present from your aunt. “Oh, wow.” 

Under the bright golden sunlight of a warm spring afternoon, the scarecrow is glorious despite the rough burlap sack covering the torso. There are so many fine details, more than you’d ever expect the manufacturers to include. Individual knuckle joints are coated in a shimmery light yellow paint, the same color as what you can see of the metal torso. The arms have beautifully intricate designs of vines and flowers, twining from wrist to shoulder joint, that are the slightest bit darker than the yellow so the markings are only visible when the sunlight hits them at a certain angle. The scarecrow’s face is split in two colors—that light yellow on the left and a deeper golden hue on the right—which curves to form a crescent. You wonder what colors the eyes and mouth would be, but they’re all closed, giving the scarecrow a serene expression. To finish off the wonderful craftsmanship, a set of triangular spikes crown the scarecrow’s face, starting in that deep gold and fading away to the light shimmery yellow at the tip.

“You’re like the sun,” you murmur. “Sun the scarecrow.” 

Proud of your naming skills, you take the time to properly position Sun in the chair, hoping that the battery will charge properly under the bright afternoon light. As you stand, you pat the scarecrow on the chest. “Please protect my garden for me, Sun. Don’t let the birds eat the seeds and sprouts.”

Turning away and feeling very pleased at your new addition to the garden, you call, “Pluto!” and snap your fingers twice. Your dog shakes dirt off his dappled coppery-brown fur before bounding toward you. The two of you return home, have a peaceful afternoon as you complete the necessary chores and enjoy dinner as the chill of a typical spring night starts to set in.

Late into the night, long after you have gone to bed, the scarecrow opens his eyes. They shine with a soft white light, cutting through the dark. He is deep blue and obsidian, with the night sky embedded into his arms in a soft silver that emanates the faintest light. His head, now devoid of spikes, swivels as he takes in his surroundings. 

This place is unfamiliar to him—to them. It is a relief.

Knowing that there are no immediate dangers to them, he settles back into the chair. He does not know why he has been placed here in the garden, but is sure that his counterpart will find out tomorrow. For now, he will stay on guard but enter low power mode to conserve energy as they have not fully charged, and will leave his exploration of this new territory to tomorrow night. 

He will keep watch until morning.

note: the plan is for this to be a little drabble or mini series whenever I feel inspired to add a new part! it's also a little side project for fun as I work on a larger piece hehe. I'd love to hear what you think about this first part! (especially because there's a second part in the works already ^u^)

series masterlist ✧ part two

[mistyresolve]

HIIII!! Todays my birthday but I’m not someone who likes my birthday. My therapist told me to try to do others things on my birthday to forget the bad things and enjoy. So nothing better then asking for an amazing creator to make a story right? Love your content btw!!! I would like to request a ghost x reader where she hid her birthday because she doesn’t specifically like it because of some unknown reason and he does something. Could be a party or whatever. I want the story to be kind of like a surprise tbh. Could be fluff or smut or whatever you wanna write. Thank you either way. Love you!

Word Count - 1.1k Warnings/Tags - None A/N - sorry i'm a little late getting this out!! I've been working a clinical for my school, but I hope you had a relaxing birthday. Please accept this short one-shot as my gift from me to you 🤍

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The clock on the wall read: 21:23, meaning you’ve made it the entire day without a single birthday celebration. No having to awkwardly stand in the doorway while people around you sing that awful grating “Happy Birthday” jingle when you walk into a room. There were no announcements during your morning meeting. There were no surprise parties when you entered the barracks. There was no opening those last-minute gifts that would inevitably end up in the garbage and lying to the gifter about how much you needed it. 

The day was just like every other day before and every day that would be after. You preferred it that way and you couldn’t have been more thankful. You kept the significance of this day close to your chest, kept its existence a secret. You received one card for an aunt the day before along with a request to visit her once you returned home from your tour. 

A bitter relief soothed the muscle of your clenched jaw when you got to your room uninterrupted. The comforting quiet of the empty space was the only gift from the world you welcomed. You tugged off your boots, setting them on the rack in the closet, and your uniform followed close behind in preparation for your nightly shower. You changed into a pair of loose shorts and a military issued green shirt and opened the door once more. 

It was a knee-jerk reaction to attack the crouching form before your door. His own reflexes matched yours and tossed the knee coming for his face to the side, narrowly avoiding a broken nose. It painfully cracked into the door frame. 

You hisses, “Jesus,” and hopped back into your room, rubbing at the already forming bruise. 

“You psycho,” Ghost glowered up at you, a hand instinctively reaching for the blade at his thigh. 

“You’re the one camping outside my door like a serial killer,” you spat, needing to lean against the wall to take the weight off your leg. You waved an aggravated hand at him, freezing when you spotted the small box in his hand, wrapped in plain brown paper. The same paper they supplied at the post office. You narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious, “What are you doing?” 

“Dusting,” he raised to his full height, now looming over you. He wasn’t wearing his normal attire and mask, a clear sign that he was off duty. He wore a regular black ball cap and a mask that covered his mouth. The top half of his face was still visible; his dark brows, thick lashes, and intense eyes were on full display. It felt like an intrusion to see him so bare. If your nerves weren’t shot you would have ogled at him. 

“That’s a lie,” you looked down the hallway, making sure no one would overheat the conversation.

“Obviously,” he pulled his hands behind his back in a poor attempt to hide the box from your view, “I’m just…hanging around.” 

You gave him an incredulous look, “Outside my door?”, you reluctantly realized it would be less painful to just rip off the bandaid, “What’s in the box, Riley?” you sighed, irked. 

You didn’t think he was capable of blushing but the light pink that appeared beneath his skin was all the evidence you needed, “A gift. For you.” 

You opened your mouth to snarl at him, but when the doors to the outside clicked open you tugged him into the dark room, closing the door behind him. 

“Return it,” you quipped at him. His having a gift for you meant he was aware that it was your birthday today. It felt like an invasion; like he was seeing you naked.

“It’s not really something I can return,” he admitted, his cool tenor matching his steady eyes. He had stomped out the bashful air surrounding him so quickly, “I haven’t mentioned anything to anyone else if that’s what you're concerned about. Nor did I spend any money on you.” 

“I’m more concerned about who told you,” you stepped back from him, the tension between you felt like a tether around your throat. 

“It was in your file,” he revealed but quickly added, “I’ve read the file of everyone that I’ve worked with,” when he saw the unsettled look pull down your face.   

You stared at him, your mouth a hard line. A combination of relief and interest tested your resolve to remain angry. 

“Would you just open the damn thing,” he held out the box, no bigger than the palm of his hand. 

Cautiously you took it from him, “If it’s a stupid keychain I’m throwing it out.”

“Shut up.” 

The only sound was you ripping the paper and you shaking the box till the bottom fell out. You didn’t expect your reaction to be one of delighted shock. You stared at it, eyes blurring with hot tears, “How did—”, the words caught between your clenched teeth. There laying on a bed of tissue paper was a small charm. The chain that once accompanied it was still at large, but it was a small piece of metal hammered into a daisy, each petal as delicate as the last was a gift from your late sister you thought you lost on your last mission.   

“Figured you’d want it back,” he shifted on his feet, suddenly finding the view outside your window incredibly fascinating.  

He must have gone back to find it after you realized it was missing. When, or how, or why he would do such a thing was incomprehensible. This small gift was more than just a necklace charm, its sentimental value was priceless. You didn’t think you would ever see it again, hadn’t even considered going back and looking for it yourself. 

“This means a lot,” you tried covering the whimper with a laugh, “More than I could ever express. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he lowered his chin, his somber expression visible even with the mask, “Had a hell of a time finding the damn thing.” 

“Why did you do that?” you tilted your head at him, confused. 

He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, “Knew it was the only gift you would accept.”         

You opened your mouth but couldn’t find the right words. There were no words equivalent to the feeling of the weight being lifted from your shoulders. 

He knew that you didn’t particularly like your birthday, and he still managed to celebrate it without you feeling sick to your stomach. He didn’t make it out to be a big deal. Or try and change your mind about the day. Or pry into your past to find out why you didn’t like the day. He simply gave you a gift.       

Tag List: @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎  @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes

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[seecarrun]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Aww this is so fun! Let’s see here… we’ll do just my It/reddie fics for this one, but if anyone wants a pokemon list, let me know!

1. Pants on Fire - The ‘Richie ends up in a Liar Liar situation’ fic. This one is still my favorite. So much fun to write!

"My name is Richard Tozier," he said to his reflection. Easy. So far, so good. "I was born on March seventh, nineteen seventy-six." Also good. Nice. Okay, now for the kicker... "I am six foot fff–" He blinked. The words stuck awkwardly in his throat. "I am six foot ffff–!" He stared into his eyes through the mirror as he watched them fill with dread.

"I am six foot ffff–ucking two!" he cried. In his reflection, his eyes widened comically. Oh, this was bad. Something was wrong, something was so, so wrong.

2. Turning and Returning - Richie and Eddie get paired with each other during a middle school dancing PE unit. :’)

Ben had gotten the idea in his head that the ballroom dances are like, the most romantic or whatever; so hopefully if Richie has to watch someone fucking waltzing elegantly around with Eddie all week, it'll—

"Kaspbrak, Tozier. You two."

Richie blinks, snapping out of his head. "Huh? Us two what?" he asks.

Coach Black looks up from his clipboard, unimpressed, and uses his pen to point between Richie and Eddie. "You two are partners," he clarifies casually, like he isn't completely upending Richie's entire fucking life. Fuck.

3. Cooking Up Trouble - Richie gives Eddie cooking lessons to help him survive after his divorce. This one has pretty artwork, too!

Richie, for whatever reason, was more than willing to drop everything and fly out to New York that very weekend, despite Eddie's insistence that it really, really wasn't necessary.

"It's just a cooking lesson, Rich," he urged, exasperated yet fond. "Easily completed over the phone."

"Not the way I do it, Eds," Richie said with a grin and a wink over FaceTime. "The Richie Tozier culinary experience is hands-on only, baby."

4. A Gentle Nudge - Bev and Eddie bonding!

His eyes were still big, even bigger than usual, and the leg she wasn't touching bounced nervously. "I'm not in love with you," he repeated, finally looking over at Bev. "I've never been in love with you."

"Wow, kick a girl while she's down," she quipped.

Eddie rolled his eyes and snorted. "Oh, shut up," he snapped. "Focus, Bev. I'm having a revelation, here."

5. Hung Up on You - Short and sweet. Middle age idiots acting like middle schoolers.

A few of the Losers make delighted and wistful noises at the idea, to Eddie's continued mortification, and before he knows it, his phone is being thrust into his hands, and six pairs of eyes are staring him down.

He blinks up at them stupidly. "He's—He's at a party!" he cries. "He's not even gonna answer!"

"He will if it's you." Mike grins. Eddie hates that he knows he's right.

[blankiebloo]

He loves me, he loves me not.

Xiao x Gn!Reader

Jealous reader

You've recently bought a bouquet of qingxin for your hardworking boyfriend, Xiao. Although you two are together, it's kind of hard to believe that you are, especially with Xiao's lack of social skills. Even though from time to time Xiao has a small smile pasted onto his face from your antics, he has a hard time expressing his feelings and showing you that he loves and cares for you. You end up being the one who holds his hand and hugs him, and he always does it back but, more awkwardly.

The main reason why you got him flowers is because you've heard from Verr Goldet that he tends to pick them or stare at them for a long time before getting back to work, and you thought that if you got him them, he would keep them and cherish them, maybe just a little.

Finally you've reached Wangshu Inn, flowers in hand you started to walk up the stairs when you heard Xiao's voice. "You should be more careful. If I got there any later you could've gotten seriously hurt."

"Ah, I'm sorry Xiao. I'll be more cautious the next time I go to any ruin."

Oh. The traveler. Recently, the traveler has been around Xiao a lot, and even if you'd rather not admit it, but you're jealous. The way those two have been getting close recently just rubs you the wrong way. How the supposedly super strong, unbeatable traveler, is needing your boyfriend's help more and more.

"[Name?]" You hear Verr say, pulling you out of your jealous thoughts. "Are you alright? You've been staring at the stairs for a few minutes now." She asks, concern laced in her voice.

"Yes, I'm fine. Uhm, I have somewhere to be, could you possibly give these qingxin to Xiao for me? Thanks," You ask bluntly and leave, placing the flowers on the desk.

You hadn't known exactly where you were going, but you just didn't want to be near the Inn or the traveler. You eventually sat down on a random hill when your legs got tired. The sun had started to set and the sky was turning orange with mixes of red and yellow in it as well, even some hints of pink in there too. Around you were qingxin, out of boredom you picked one and held it in between your fingers, admiring the petals and the comforting smell it makes.

You caress one of the petals, the softness of it reminds you of silk flowers. While you mindlessly hold the petal you're reminded of a silly 'game' you would do as a kid with flowers. You put the petal in between your thumb and index finger and you pluck it off while saying, "he loves me."

You took another one and said, "he loves me not." You continued doing this until you got to the last two petals, taking one in your fingers you say, "he loves me," you take the last one and finish, "he loves me not."

Even though you know this is some stupid childish game, at you taking off the last petal saying that he, "loves you not." It makes you tear up, the thought of Xiao not loving you stings your heart and breaks it.

You silently started to tear up, bringing your knees up to your chest and held them there, you buried your face into them and cried, your tears subtly getting louder.

Soon your small sniffles and short tears turned into full on sobs, your mind continuously replaying the sound of the traveler and Xiao talking.

"I love you, you idiot," Xiao said, reaching in between your arms and taking your chin into his hand and tilting it upwards to place a glaze lily in your hair.

"Xiao?" Your voice sounded so small, almost making Xiao feel bad for not saying something sooner. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it. I'm...sorry I didn't say anything sooner, I thought maybe a glaze lily would make you feel better." He admits, your chin still in his grip. "But what led you to allow a flower decide my feelings for you?"

"Mm, its just a game I would play as a kid with my old crushes," you sheepishly admit. "But..I thought that maybe it was right..mm, I know this may seem selfish but, it seems so weird to how the traveler has randomly become so dependent on you." You admit, your face growing red and burning in embarrassment.

"The, traveler? Tch, they're just a, friend? Whatever you mortals call each other, but it doesn't matter. They don't matter to me as much as you do." His eyes glowed with love and so much adoration for you. His grip on your chin tightened as he pulled your face forward, kissing you. Your eyes widened, your arms unwrapping around your legs and grabbed onto his shirt. You closed your eyes and relished in the moment before he pulled away.

"I love you, and thanks for the flowers."

A/N: Sooooo, how are we liking this one??? I personally think that I did pretty good, but I'd appreciate some feedback!

[roomofshroom]

kyman headcanons part 2 !!!! SFW (cartman oriented!!!)

since yall liked my kyman headcanons so much i thought id give it another try and write down sum more ! :D

part 1: here

cartman would plan little fucking schemes to see if kyle really loves him (text him from a fake instagram profile, pay a girl to make a move on him, shit like that)

motherfucker craves attention so much, so he like pretends he's sick or dying or that something really serious happened to see if kyle comes running to him

kyle quickly realizes this is not a one time thing and is really annoyed w him but manages to come running everytime cartman pulls something like this, eric always treats him with a big smile when hes at the doorstep ("you came! :D " "ofc i came you said ur fucking mom was dying?! where is she?" "oh she just went shopping" "so you made it up?! you know how fucked up that is?!" "technically, my mom IS dying, we are ALL dying every second of every day ever since we were born, kHAL...")

cartman uses like an unhealthy ammount of emojis in every message, sends shit ton of tiktoks, reels, youtube shorts and has a completely different types of conversations w kyle on every social media platform all at once (like on instagram he's venting to him about how he doesnt feel appreciated enough by the world while hes sending him memes on discord and streaming himself playing fall guys or smth i dont fucking know)

kyle's style of texting is very simple, he doesnt like long messages, he doesnt really send memes or tiktoks or anything but he religiously watches everything eric sends him, responds to him asap and writes medium sized messages with emojis because cartman is super fucking clingy and goes on a rampage if kyle doesnt respond for more than 3 hours or if his response isn't "enthusiastic" enough (*eric sends a meme of cats with a "this is so us" comment* kyle: <3 eric: do you hate me? kyle: no wtf i dont??? why? eric: idk just seems like you hate me)

cartman hangs out w kyle's mom and makes kyle's mom unknowingly share embarrassing details of kyle's life just to tease him w the information later, they also look through baby pictures together

eric and kyle's mom love gossiping together and they watch say yes to dress together and critique the dresses ("the mermaid style dress with HER LEGS!? i thought she'd wanna show them off!" "yes, such a shame, wasted potential")

sometimes cartman just goes to kyle's house solely to hang out with his mom ("oh hey cartman, i wont be able to hang out today, i need to-" "no worries, I'm here to watch tlc w your mom")

cartman's love language is words of affirmation, obviously, and he makes kyle say everything he loves about him at least twice a week as a "communication exercise, so that their relationship stays good and they both feel appreciated" (its honestly just a way for eric to get praised, he loveeees that shit)

he knows kyle's love lang is acts of service (hes known him for years, kyle didnt even need to tell him) so while he's at his house he'll wash the dishes and fold his clothes but he won't admit to it, he actually hides it and feels embarrassed, kyle just knows ("hey, did you clean my room while i was downstairs?" "no?" "look, its clear you did, just say so" "i don't fucking know what you're talking about, khal" "...thank you, eric" "...shut the fuck up, jew, as if I'd touch your dirty ass room")

cartman's actually very shy with showing affection when its just two of them and when kyle says something sweet unprovoked, cartman usually blushes and shuts him down, turns it into a joke or straight up ridicules kyle ("you're actually very pretty, cartman" "yeah, you're pretty too... pretty gay, HAHA")

kyle's shy with showing affection in front of others and cartman fucking takes that and runs with it sometimes, doing everything to make kyle uncomfortable, he's being all lovey dovey infront of kenny and stan to see kyle cringe internally and awkwardly smiling on the outside to 'not seem like a bad boyfriend' (cuz when he once couldn't take it and told cartman to shut the fuck up, cartman got fake sad and stan came to kyle afterwards and gave a speech about "sometimes having to put up with stuff you don't like to make your girl, uhm sorry, to make your... significant other happy")

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions - jjk | four

"Promise me a free Purple Starfucker, and I'll consider it a little bit more," you bargain. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, readjusting his bag over his shoulder. Shakes his head. Glossy and dark as he focuses on you, you think his eyes look just like black treacle. Divine. Delicious. Suit him well. With a poorly hidden smile, he concedes. "Maybe." "Okay then," you nod. "See you maybe, Jungkook." He nods back. "See you maybe, Disco Ball."

Bad Decision #4 - The Gym

warnings: a gym. no further warning. oh and jk is sexy but what's new?

soundtrack: 20 something - sza, angostura - keshi

wc: 4.1k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

Glancing down to the address that Hoseok had hastily scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, you sigh. It's a hearty one. Clears your lungs. Gets your blood pumping a little swifter. There's a weight to staying alive, and it feels like it might just crush down on your windpipe and suffocate you altogether.

Okay, so maybe you're being dramatic. Maybe this is fine. You tell yourself to 'get a grip', but you know it's useless.

It's not that you're nervous—except for the fact you totally are—you just don't like the idea of gyms. They remind you of your ex a little too much.

More specifically, how he'd force you to go along with him, and how you'd whine and moan, but spend the entire time laughing with him. How he'd lift you instead of weights. How he'd tell you that you look 'far too hot' in a pair of leggings and sports bra, and the way you'd keep them on until you got home just for the simple pleasure of him being the one to take them off.

So, yeah. You don't like gyms. Avoid them when you can.

Partially because you don't know which one he goes to anymore, but mainly because it feels like you can't breathe whenever you see a pair of shoulders almost broad enough to be his. There tend to be a lot of jacked guys in gyms. Makes it a more common occurrence.

Still, you've been trying to remedy that. Trying to face fears. Failing, but trying at least.

You swallow back the lump in your throat. Bite the bullet. Open the door. Easy.

The girl at the front desk is potentially the most drop-dead gorgeous woman you've ever seen. Raven-haired, petite, a smile that could end wars. She's laughing with another member of staff - a trainer, you think - before he goes into a backroom.

You're a little unsure of yourself still, but she's glowing in such a way that it feels like maybe this could be okay. Nothing to fear. Plus who would even bother looking at a man's shoulders when someone who looks like she does is around? Far more captivating. Endlessly more appealing.

Her smile focuses on you as you walk towards her, brows lifted, eyes wide and open as if to say 'Hiya! Welcome!'. Her voice is just as chirpy as you imagine when she greets you.

"I don't think I recognise you," she says, questioning herself before she makes an introduction. "My name's Jiyeong, I'm a trainer here. Are looking to sign up for a membership?"

You shake your head and laugh a little awkwardly. You're not really dressed for the gym - a pair of sweats and a slouchy Carhartt tee. It's not sports gear appropriate for a place like this. Everyone's in skin-tight lycra, and they all look great wearing it. Makes you think that maybe you should try and get over this fear for good. Become one of those people.

"No, actually," you grimace a little awkward, voice sweet. You know you're gonna be asking for a favour, so try and fail to keep it short. Instead, you ramble a little. "I'm meeting someone here, but I don't have my phone—he's got it actually. Dumb accident. Long story actually, completely my fault —anyways, I was wondering if you'd be able to buzz me through so I could just grab it quickly? I'll be five seconds, in and out. Please."

It's at this point the corners of her mouth drop a little. Her lips press together. She's still smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes anymore. "Hmm?"

"His name is Jungkook," you begin to explain further—but then she smiles again and cuts you off.

"Oh, I don't think I know a Jungkook?" She pouts a little. "Anyways, I'm really sorry but I can't let you through without a membership. Company policy. I really wish it wasn't the case, but they track the entry process."

You don't want to put her out. You've worked in customer service for long enough to know not to push company protocol. It's not worth getting fired over just to make a customer's life a tiny bit easier - and so you nod.

"Of course, totally understand," you say as you glance over to the gate that allows access into the workout area. It needs a passcode. Can't even make a dash for it - although you're half tempted to when you see a couple come through the gate without a care in the world. It takes an absolute age to shut. "Do you guys do day memberships here? I literally just need to get in and out, but I'll pay for a day pass if I need to."

Something about Jiyeong is really throwing you off. She's smiling, and she looks like butter wouldn't melt, but there's a sourness to it all. There's no butter. Just curdled milk.

She winces apologetically. Shrugs. Brings her shoulders to her ears in a way you would have found sweet maybe five minutes ago. Shakes her head.

"They're referral only. You'll need someone with a preexisting membership with you. But!" She chirps up. "We have a month pass you can purchase instead."

For all of your common sense faux-pas, and the bad decisions that have led you here, you're not actually stupid. No gym in their right mind would actively try and sabotage their own earnings. She's spewing bullshit, but is somehow managing to make it smell like roses.

"A month?" You question, trying not to let your frustration show.

"Mhhm," she nods.

Her beauty seems to fade with every smile. Ironic, really. Her friendly demeanour is what had made her so attractive, and now it's shattering the illusion.

In any other circumstance, you'd say fuck it, and head home - but Jungkook has your phone.

You said you'd meet him here. You could wait until he finishes his workout but you have no idea when that will be, and you're still suffering from your hangover. You just want to get it over and done with, so you say, "Alright, I'll sign up for a month. No rolling contract."

"No rolling contract," she nods. "Okay. Just need a few details from you."

There's a form to fill out; payment details to be given. A box to tick: which trainer helped you sign-up? Small print: Trainers earn a small commission for every sign-up. Please ask for their name.

You're half tempted to check another trainer's name, but she's watching you like a fucking hawk.

Should have just chosen the club. Would have been easier. Could have even made a night of it - it's a Saturday after all. But no, you and your tiny marble brain thought that the gym would be easier? Better?

Ridiculous. Hoseok had been right all along. It was the worst choice you'd made all week.

"You're all ready," she smiles as you lament the choices of your past self. She says a goodbye that sounds friendly but feels like a fuck you. You're not sure what exactly you've done to rub her up the wrong way, but you'd quite like it if you never rubbed shoulders with her again.

There's a mechanical whir as you enter a pin into the gate. It opens for you with a small beep, and you feel like your throat is closing up a little bit. There's a wrought iron staircase leading up to the weight area, the bottom level focused more on machines and cardio. A third floor is reserved for studios and private classes according to the signage, so you decide he's probably not there.

You don't know much about this man, but you have seen him without a shirt on. The weight area seems like a safe bet.

There's an uncomfortable discord in your chest as you head up to the second floor, your black high-top chucks padding against the metal gently. Hair up, not even trying to pretend like you're not still hanging, part of you regrets dressing so casually.

Your skin feels all hot and clammy, and you know exactly why, but you try and convince yourself that it's just the hangover. That's all it is.

It'll pass, you tell yourself. In and out. You're alright.

Jungkook notices you before you notice him. He's by the mirrors. Caught sight of you, your eyes all wide and worried - presumably in search of him - as he was checking his form. Putting his weight down, he turns to face you a little more straight on, which is what draws your focus to him.

"Hey," he says a little breathlessly, a tone of surprise evident. He whips a towel over his shoulder, and you're reminded of how he looked behind the bar of Dionysus. Dabs at his face a little. Shakes his head to adjust the hair that is stuck to his forehead from his workout.

"What are you doing up here?" He asks tenderly, conscious of the fact you look like you've seen a ghost. He's aware he probably doesn't look his best, but he didn't think he looked that bad. "I told Jiyeong to let me know when you arrived. Was just gonna bring it down, save you the hassle."

"Oh," you reply, a little stuck on your words. The burning in your throat is subduing. The pressure on your chest feels a little lighter.

"Sorry, I"— you begin, and then you remember who the fuck you are. You hate being like this. Hate when you get panicked. Hate that he seems to be looking at you with concern. Also hate that Jiyeong is apparently a massive dick, but you'll choose to be frustrated about that later. "I actually have a membership here."

Joy.

Jungkook hums in surprise, head tilting, mouth forming a cute little 'o'. "You do? Never seen you here before."

Wonder why.

"Oh yeah, here all the time," you nod, because apparently Jiyeong isn't the only one who fancies being a big old liar today. And then you smile. Flirt. "Like, maybe even more than you."

Now, this he does raise a brow at. Smirks. Picks up his weight as he moves to straddle the bench beside him. He sits down and places the weight beneath his arms for something to lean on. "Not so sure about that."

He's wearing black chucks, too. Slouchy black tee. The only real difference is that he's in shorts. Your lips curve upwards, but you catch them before he notices.

"I'm just always downstairs," you shrug, playing off your little white lie like it's no biggie. "Surprised I haven't seen you about here, either."

You don't mean to be such an egregious liar, you're just embarrassed. Ashamed. Disconcerted by the fact you know you looked like a lost puppy when you arrived, and also how you know Jiyeong totally played some weird power move on you. You're not sure what to make of it. Don't like it, but also will likely never see her again. Not worth it. Not over some guy you don't intend on ever seeing again, either.

The logical assumption to be made is that she's involved with him in some capacity. Makes sense. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to get lonely in the early hours.

Jungkook accepts your bullshit. He knows it's bullshit because he does cardio as much as he does weights - anyone with an inkling of gym knowledge would be able to tell. He's sure you have your own niche, things that would win you points on a pub quiz, but the gym? Doesn't seem likely.

"Phones just in my locker," he tells you as he gets to his feet again, lifting his weight like it's a cup of coffee. You've no idea how much it weighs. Doubt you'd be able to make it look that effortless. "I'm just finishing up. Can you wait, like, five minutes? Or do you have places to be?"

His skin is dappled in rivulets of sweat. There's too much to take in visually, so you focus on his voice, instead. It's soft. Tender. Kind, you think.

And so despite the fact there's no place you'd rather be less, you smile. Nod. "I can wait."

He nods back, says thank you, and gets back to his weights. He does a few more reps just to get to his daily goal, and then sets about clearing his area; puts the weights back on the rack, wipes down his bench. Runs his hand through his damp hair. Exhales a deep breath before turning to face you with a smile.

You wonder if he can notice the drool you've been trying not to let slip.

He can't - but finds it curious how he didn't catch your gaze a single time during his final few reps. The gym is relatively quiet at this time of day, so there's no one in the immediate vicinity. Whenever he'd glanced in the mirror, your eyes were elsewhere.

One place in particular.

The other mirror; one that's angled in such a way you can see his side profile. Jungkook's aware of it. Had kind of positioned himself in line with it on purpose.

"What's so interesting?" he asks and is met with a confused hum. Does he really think you're gonna admit to checking him out? Dream on. "You were just like... absorbed by that mirror. Good reflection?"

"Oh," you mumble, cheeks deepening in tone - and yet your poker face is just so good. "Was zoned out. Didn't notice."

He doesn't call you out on it any further. For all he knows, you could be telling the truth.

You wait for him by the entryway gate as he gets changed. Jiyeong watches you from the corner of her eye, being as discreet as she possibly can - but you can feel her eyes on you. In fact, she's as good at discretion as you were when you were watching Jungkook work out.

When he finally emerges in a pair of grey shorts and hoodie, you smile. So does Jiyeong.

He greets you. Ushers you through the gate. Says hi and bye to Jiyeong. Puts a hand on the top of your back as he opens the front door of the gym, but insists you walk through first.

"How are you feeling today?" He asks as you make your way down the path that leads to the subway station. "Still rough?"

"That obvious?" You laugh. "Ouch. Thanks, dude."

"No," he laughs back. "You're forgetting I was the only sober person in my apartment last night. You drank enough to kill a person."

"That's not true," you accuse, before deflecting the blame. "Was all you and your Purple Starfuckers. Bloody lethal."

"Bloody brilliant," he counters. There's an ease as you walk side by side. You chalk it up to finally being out of the gym. Feels like you can breathe again. "Tell me you didn't keep coming back for more."

He has a point. You're surprised you didn't all drink the bar dry. But you simply laugh. Tap the crease of his elbow lightly with the back of your hand.

He's smiling, too.

"Tell me you didn't keep giving me them for free! On the house! What kind of maniac turns down free drinks?!"

You've got a point. He can't argue against it—so instead he just gets a little argumentative. It's all in good fun. Shared humour.

"Well then next time, you'll get nothing on the house, how about that? Not even water."

You snort a little, pushing your head back as you do so. You pass the first subway exit, with no idea if you're heading in the right direction for one another. Neither of you asks; neither of you declares.

"Next time?" You scoff, still hanging. "I'm never drinking again."

"Heard that one before."

"I mean it. This hangover has written me off. Work almost killed me."

He wonders where you work. Wonders if the work is gruelling, or if you'd been able to recover in peace. He hopes for the latter. Would tease you if it's the former.

"You working tomorrow?" he pipes up. There's curiosity in his tone, but not enough for you to realise just how intrigued he is by you.

He's never seen a girl walk out on Jimin before. Ever. It's kind of remarkable. He wants to know why. Doesn't want to ask why, though.

You shake your head. "Day off."

Thank god.

Jungkook considers his options. He knows full well, walk-out or not, that you fucked Jimin last night. It adds complexity. Makes him unsure of his next steps.

It's not like he's trying to get in your pants - he'd never hear the end of it from the boys if he went for Jimin's leftovers - but he'd be a liar if he said he didn't like your presence at the bar last night.

Not just you. All three of you. You've good energy. He enjoys the nights when punters are actually fun. If tonight is gonna be busy, he'd rather it be busy on his own terms.

"DJ's are doing a throwback theme tonight," he hums, and the way you stop in your tracks is beyond satisfying for him. He loves it when a plan comes together.

"Throwbacks, you say?"

He stops too, and turns to look at you with a slight air of nonchalance. There's a shrug to his broad shoulders, which remarkably don't remind you of your exes, his wide eyes soft as a subtle smile graces his lips. "All bangers."

"Define bangers," you challenge.

And oh, how Jeon Jungkook loves a challenge.

"Well," he says as he begins walking again. You follow. "Last time there were a LOT of old-school Taylor Swift songs."

"Keep talking."

"Timbaland, Rihanna—I'm talking proper noughties classics."

"I'm listening."

"Outkast, Coldplay, Arctic Monkeys"—

"Offt."

—"Kanye, Mika, you name it. One Direction, fuckin' anything. They'll play it."

"Do they take requests?"

"Well, no I didn't mean they'll literally play anything you name," he laughs. "But you've got an in." He points at himself, seemingly proud of that fact. "I can get them to play whatever you want."

"Offt, I love having friends in high places," you muse, to which he tells you to 'fuck off' with the biggest grin on his face you've seen all day. "I'll think about it. You on the bar?"

He nods. "I am indeed."

"Hmm. Makes it less tempting."

Jungkook wants to fight back, but knows that he'd probably end up flirting, and it's not his intention - so he changes the topic.

"Jimin might be there, too. A friendly face."

He doesn't notice the way your face scrunches up a little uncomfortably.

"I'm not really sure that'll sway me," you tell him. "Was a one-time thing. Sorry about that, again. Waking you, I mean. Not cool."

You really do believe your words - after all, Jungkook had been the one to return your phone, not Jimin. Chivalry is dead, and apparently men get their housemates to return glass slippers, these days.

It's kind of Jungkook's own fault.

Jimin doesn't know you've lost it. Jungkook hasn't told him. Isn't sure why. Didn't really think about it at the time.

"It's fine, really. And I've lived with Jimin long enough to know it's never just a one-time thing."

"I'm an exception."

"Believe it when I see it."

And suddenly you feel challenged now - but you're by the final subway entrance. You've walked past three exits already. Should have really taken the first. Couldn't bring yourself to end the conversation earlier.

However, now that the conversation has turned towards the topic of Jimin, you find yourself less inclined to continue it. You'd rather not be reminded of your questionable drunk decisions in the cold, sober light of day.

"This is me," you tell him.

"Ah." He stops walking. Pauses. Looks at his Chuck Taylor-clad feet as he stands in front of you. He's holding onto the strap of his rucksack as he asks, "So you'll be at the club tonight?"

When he looks up, he's nibbling down on his bottom lip-toying with his lip ring. There's a hesitancy to his words, as if he's afraid you might say no.

You pretend as if you're weighing up your options, shifting your weight from foot to foot, lips pursed. You know if you propose the idea to Hoseok he'll jump at the chance to get shitfaced again, and where the pair of you venture, Danbi will surely follow. It's inevitable that you will end up at Dionysus tonight.

But you simply smile and say, "Maybe."

He rolls his eyes, and it makes you laugh. He laughs, too. It's sweet, the way his energy matches yours. There's an ease to your rapport. You think it must be incredibly easy to be his friend.

"Promise me a free Purple Starfucker, and I'll consider it a little bit more," you bargain.

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, readjusting his bag over his shoulder. Shakes his head. Glossy and dark as he focuses on you, you think his eyes look just like black treacle. Divine. Delicious. Suit him well.

With a poorly hidden smile, he concedes. "Maybe."

"Okay then," you nod. "See you maybe, Jungkook."

He nods back. "See you maybe, Disco Ball."

"I won't come if you call me a disco ball again," you shout back as you descend down the stairs, leaving him by the exit.

He chooses not to banter back, scared he could ruin the moment; make things awkward, somehow. Instead, he turns on his heel, and begins retracing his steps.

His turning was three junctions ago. He'd carried on walking just to talk bullshit with you. He chalks it up to him being too awkward to cut the conversation off.

See, he might like a challenge, but he's plagued by the realities of them, too. Hates the idea of people not liking him. Wants to be loved universally, so refuses to embark on endeavours that could prove otherwise. He's Mr What If, and he's quite content that way.

Jungkook's nearly by the first crossing when he hears you shouting after him. You're a little breathless. Panting. He knows there's absolutely no way you do cardio.

"Wait, wait!" You call all flustered and hurried. "Jungkook! Wait!"

He's already waiting. The lights are still red. You're too concerned by your own internal panic to notice.

"Phone!" You almost wail, before you laugh. Inhale. Rest your palms on your knees. Exhale. Look up towards him. "My phone, Jungkook! You still have my phone."

"Oh, shit," he laughs, pulling off his rucksack and fishing about for it. Seems so stupid to have forgotten about it. His cheeks are hot.

It's returned promptly, apologies tumbling from his lips like laughter is falling from yours.

"This was all part of your plan, wasn't it?" You narrow your eyes accusingly. "Was gonna keep it so I had to go to the club."

He raises his arms, hands next to his ears, palms spread open, as if he's holding a white flag. "You caught me."

But it'll be Jungkook catching you later - or at least your gaze, as he reciprocates a knowing smile when you inevitably end up in Dionysus, ready to make all the wrong choices all over again.

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

[adelarsims]

This is Zach, a bad guy with a good heart. Uni dropout, smarter than others think, and kinder than he tries to let on.

He's rude, swears a lot, has a short fuse but is crazy loyal to people he's close with, surprisingly nice to elders because he had a grandma that loved him and was kind to him even when he behaved like shit, and back then he wasn't always kind to her so now he feels bad about that, he's really good at math, makes arm jokes that make people uncomfortable, and his go-to playlist is actually softer than you'd expect.

He's 27 years old. Closeted bisexual slightly leaning towards men without really thinking of it more than of just a good friendship (he emotionally connects with guys easier and needs a bit more time to warm up to a girl), plus he's not really romantic in general to reflect on these feelings too much. His best idea of romance is sitting on a car trunk somewhere in the middle of nowhere and eating junk food together, trash talking each other, laughing loudly and bumping shoulders.

Zach trivia:

he despises people who pick on someone way smaller or only when they outnumber someone. pick someone your own size, assholes!

there was one shy guy in school who considered zach a kind person and his friend, despite zach being a troublemaker and constantly picking up fights, and despite the fact that they didn’t hang out and barely ever talked, because when this guy talked and others started to talk over him, zach yelled at them to shut the fuck up until the guy could finish the story.

he listens to music a lot but pays more attention to the rhythm than to lyrics. lyrics can be good or a complete trash and he will still listen to it just the same if the beat is right.

about arm jokes: like when he's asked what time is it by someone who doesn't know about his arm, and he lifts his left arm up, as if he’s going to look at the time, and says, “oh shit, i forgot my watch at home”. he also uses expressions with words "hand" or "arm" in them (like "i need a hand" or "it will cost me an arm and a leg") unnecessarily often, precisely because people usually awkwardly avoid using these words around him.

he also makes up all kinds of stories about how he lost his arm, like "the shark bit it right off while i was surfing in Sulani"

but at the same time, he hates when people recognize him by missing an arm, or pay too much attention, or it's the first thing they think about him. "yeah, yeah, no arm, alright. dude, it's not my whole fucking personality!"

unlike many of my other characters with their problematic family backgrounds, zach has very normal, average family that has its communication problems occasionally but in general is loving and supportive.

he’s a huge sweet tooth but doesn’t indulge too much around others because “sweets are girls' thing” yup he has some weird gender stereotypes like that. yeah, leave him with a few snickers bars unsupervised, and see how soon he'll start stuffing his face.

was a part of math competition team at school until he started hanging out with a bunch of good for nothing dudes, so he’s like smarty smart actually. even though not many ppl care to know about that.

he was really short until late teenage years and was very self conscious about that. he was afraid that he's gonna stay short forever and had sudden growth spurt only after 18.

his full name is, unsurprisingly, Zachary, but no one ever calls him that except for his mom when she's mad and he's in for an earful.

he's had commited (ish) relationships a couple times, but usually they tend to not last. he knows that he's "supposed" to have a girlfriend because everyone else does, but he doesn't know what exactly he's supposed to feel towards her, so he mostly treated his girlfriends like his bros, and girls weren't happy about that dynamic in a long run.

i'm not sure but i think he might be aromantic or somewhere close to aro spectrum. he doesn't really understand the appeal or feel the need for love talks and illogical romantic gestures, and they don't make him weak in his knees. and while he would probably want a solid relationship, for him it's more about partnership and having each other's back through thick and thin. oh, and ofc a lot of sex. he has pretty high sex drive.

he can whistle masterfully and likes songs with long whistle solo because he can whistle along and show off (like "wind of change", "other people" or this one whistle song from "kill bill").

[bitchinfawkseh]

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 6

————————————————————————

Summary: Case after case, they find themselves in Chicago now. Sam runs into Meg, who is using dark magic and working with an unknown demon who Sam and Dean think killed their mother. When they ambush her, they are quite unprepared as she holds them captive until a certain Father and Delgado comes for them.

W.C: 10 618

Warnings: Mild SA, violence.

[A/N] the SA warning is referring to s1 ep 16 when meg assaults sam. And for the record, I don't believe in all that astrology shit. But Dean mentions zodiacs a lot so I think he gaf

Masterlist | AO3

Cheryl's lips curled in distaste as Dean stood a few feet away, saying his sickeningly sweet goodbye to Cassie. When he kissed her, she looked away and secured the strap of her helmet. Cassie and Dean were cute together, she just wasn't one for PDA - she preferred to keep things behind closed doors and she cringed when she saw couples in public all over each other. He kissed her cheek and said goodbye again, turning and walking to the Impala.

Cheryl breathed out a heavy sigh and Dean jerked his head over in her direction, "What?" He asked defensively. She smiled widely and straddled her Harley, "Nothing, she's pretty." Dean smiled a bit and looked back at Cassie who was where he left her, waiting to send them off. "Yeah, she is."

Then, Sam's prophetic dream happened, and the boys were forced to tell Cheryl about his dreams and visions. Unlike most hunters who would immediately want to harm Sam or hunt him, she was supportive and kind. "You're my friend, Sam. I won't ever betray you." She whispered, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He smiled sadly and glanced away, noticing Dean who was watching them like a hawk.

It was after they had gotten Sam back from those weird - cannibalistic humans that took him. Dean faced all kinds of freaky stuff - tied to a chair and threatened with a piping hot firestick being one of them. It was actually Cheryl who had found Sam in the barn with the cop and let them out. 

Dean wiped off the soot on his chin with the butt of his palm, paying no mind to the bathroom door that was open just a crack and the clattering of makeup products. His eyes widened as he saw Cheryl - with a nasty black and blue black eye trying to cover it up with globs of concealer. His heart dropped - and then he remembered that man that the freaks called Pa practically threw her into a glass case full of creepy bones and knick knacks. "Cher..." He trailed off. Her head snapped over in his direction and Sam's quiet chatter from inside the bathroom went quiet

----------------------------

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "You okay...? That looks pretty rough." Cheryl's eyes narrowed venomously and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. She could snap, yell, storm off, give him the cold shoulder. But he was just being nice - he didn't deserve the bad treatment. Cheryl closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, turning away from him and starting to blend the concealer around her eye. "It'll be gone in a week. I'm fine." Cheryl climbed up and sat cross-legged on the counter. "What about you?" She asked.

"Fine too..." He muttered, his eyes meeting Sam's. She let out a heavy sigh and gently rubbed the makeup into her skin. "Sam,"

"Yeah?" He asked. Cheryl turned her head towards him and raised her brows slightly. "Is it noticeable?"

"If you ice it the swelling will go down..." Dean cut in. Sam bared his teeth and sucked air through them, his brows furrowed a bit. "Yeah, you need ice." He replied quietly.

Cheryl rolled her eyes and slid off the counter, "Fine. Walk me to the ice machine, Sam."

"You guys said you were with the alarm company?" The landlady asked. They all nodded and she looked Cheryl up and down - who was wearing a pencil skirt, pantyhose, a red short sleeved blouse and heels. Cheryl smiled politely and hugged her notebook to her chest. "I'm the company's lawyer, they want to be prepared in case there is a lawsuit." She explained. The landlady's brows shot up and she nodded slowly, now understanding why there was such a well dressed woman with a full face of flawless makeup with these boys in jumpsuits. "Oh, well. No offence but your alarm systems are about as useful as boobs on a man." She said. Dean cocked a brow and him and Sam exchanged a look. "Well, that's why we're here. To see what went wrong and to stop it from happening again." Dean said.

"Dad didn't need these stupid costumes." Dean grumbled as he adjusted the collar of his silly jumpsuit. Cheryl snorted and hurried after them, they had such long legs and they liked to walk fast. "You guys look fine." She muttered. Dean scoffed and looked her up and down, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he admired her curves. "You're one to talk, you look... sexy right now." He murmured.

"Dean!" Sam scolded. Cheryl laughed, her ruby coloured lips stretching up into a wide smile. "No, he's right. I do look quite sexy right now."

Blood was splattered all over the room, staining the nice white rug in the centre of it. Cheryl glanced around and carefully stepped over a splotch of blood. "You found the body, ma'am?" Cheryl asked, glancing back at her briefly.

She nodded, "Yeah."

"Right after it happened?" Sam asked. Cheryl flipped open her notebook and clicked a pen, listening intently and scribbling notes (which was really just doodles) onto the paper. "No, a few days. Meredith's work said she hadn't showed up so that's when I went to check on her. Then I noticed the smell." The landlady explained. Dean checked around the apartment, swiping his fingers under a window frame to check for sulphur or anything similar. "Any sign of a break-in? Open windows?" He asked.

"No, windows were locked, front door bolted. Had to cut through the chain to even get in here."

"And the alarm was still on?"

"Like I said, bang-up job your companies doing." She scoffed. She looked Cheryl up and down with a judgemental look in her eye, which made Dean's brows raise. "Mhmmm... well, you see any sign of a struggle?"

The landlady shook her head, "No, like I said. It was in perfect condition, except for Meredith."

"What do you mean?" Sam questioned.

"Meredith was all over. In pieces. The guy who killed her must have been some kind of a whack job. But I tell you, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have said a wild animal did it." Cheryl cleared her throat, smiling a bit and looking up from her little drawing. "Thank you, do you mind if we give the place a once-over?" She asked politely.

The landlady shook her head and shrugged, "Knock yourselves out."

Dean opened the tool box and pulled out an EMF reader, flipping it in his hand and feeling its weight before glancing up at Cheryl who was currently struggling to kneel down. "Fuck this fucking tight ass skirt." She cursed under her breath. His lips thinned and he smirked a bit before standing up, for a woman she sure did have a potty mouth. "So, a killer walks in and out of the apartment—no weapons, no prints, nothin’."

"I’m tellin’ ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig." Sam sighed. Cheryl crossed her arms against her chest and slowly surveyed the apartment, the blood, no sign of struggle - everything was right there. "I think you're right, Sam." She said.

She turned and stared at Dean, pursing her lips together. "So, you talked to the cops?" She asked. Cheryl leaned down and touched up her cherry coloured lipstick in the reflection of the television, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her finger. Dean smirked, "Uh, yeah. I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law."

"What'd you find out?" Sam asked. Dean tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and he had this dazed look in his eyes. "Oh, well. She’s a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean - wow. Oh, and she’s got this little tattoo-." He said dreamily.

"Dean!" Sam scolded, snapping him out of it. Cheryl rolled her eyes and sighed in annoyance, his little charades with women was pretty agitating. Dean's brows raised, "What - uh, nothing we don't already know. Except for what they are keepin' out of the papers."

"What?" Cheryl asked.

"Meredith's heart was missing." He said. Cheryl cringed and her lips thinned, that was just gross. And... she also questioned how that even happened.

"That's gross." She commented.

"Yeah." Dean agreed with a nod and a thumbs up. Sam glanced back at the two of them, his brows furrowing as he thought. "What do you think it could be?"

Dean shrugged, "The landlady said it looked like an animal attack, maybe a werewolf?" He suggested. Sam shook his head as Cheryl leaned over and plucked the EMF reader from Dean's hands. "Nah, lunar cycle isn't right. Plus, if it was a creature, it would’ve left some kind of trace. It’s probably a spirit." Sam sighed. Dean cocked his head to the side as he noticed how the blood splatters on the carpet were positioned. It didn't even look... natural. "See if you can find any masking tape around." He said.

-------------------------

Dean used the masking tape to connect each pool of blood on the carpet, once he was done the little pieces of blue tape formed a symbol. They all tilted their heads like curious cats and Dean raised a brow. "Ever seen that symbol before?" Sam asked.

"Never." Dean answered.

"Nope." Cheryl replied, her mouth popping as she enunciated the 'p.'

Dean was cut off as a tall, handsome looking brunette came up to Cheryl with a smirk on his face. "Hey, baby. Can I buy you a drink?" He purred. Cheryl grinned and batted her lashes, slowly rising out of her seat to follow him to the bar. "Absolutely." She whispered, swiping her tongue across her bottom lip. Cheryl linked her elbow with his and let him lead her to the bar.

Cheryl slid into the barstool next to Sam, she was a little surprised that they managed to get their own table - it was pretty busy in here. He pulled out his dad's journal and set it on the sticky, stained table just as Dean came back with a wide grin. "I talked to the bartender." Dean exclaimed. He scoffed and raised his brows slightly as he began to leaf through the pages of the journal. "Yeah? Did you get anything except for her number?" He asked.

"Dude, I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that." Dean gasped. Cheryl looked at him through her brows, he was a liar and a playboy. He chuckled and flipped the napkin he had over revealing a phone number and a name. "Alright, yeah."

"You mind doin’ a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?" Sam teased.

"Huh? Look, there’s nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn’t do or say anything weird before she died, so - what about that symbol, you find anything?"

"No, nothing in dad's journal." Sam answered. Dean glanced over at Cheryl who was adjusting the way her breasts sat in her shirt. He cocked a brow and grinned, "Cheryl? What are you doing?" He asked. Her eyes widened as she looked up, puffing her cheeks out. It was pretty obvious what she was doing. "What? I need a drink."

"How is that gonna -."

Dean watched the two of them disappear as they reached the crowd of people surrounding the bar. "Jealous?" Sam teased. He quickly shook his head and looked back at Sam, "What? No. Good for her." He grumbled. Dean leaned forward and grinned, "You know, I bet if I had boobs I'd get free drinks like that all the time." He said.

"Dean, if you had boobs it'd be a medical phenomenon." Sam snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Not that I can tell—I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common—they were practically from different worlds." Sam explained, paying no mind to how Dean was practically scowling at Cheryl and the man. Dean's nose wrinkled and he glanced back at Sam, "So, to recap, the only successful intel we’ve scored so far is the bartender’s phone number." He forced a smirk on his face. Sam's eyes flickered up and instead of looking at Dean, he was staring at something behind him. Dean pouted his lips together and glanced around, "What?" He asked. Sam ignored him, he pushed himself and started to walk away from the table - leaving Dean completely alone. "Sam!" Dean said in slight disbelief.

Dean sighed and his lips thinned into a straight line, "All right, well, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?" He said. Sam nodded and pulled out a newspaper clipping from his bag and set it in front of Dean. "Right. Yeah. His name was, uh—his name was Ben Swardstrom. Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal—the door was locked, the alarm was on."

"Is there any connection between the two of them?" Dean asked. He peeked over his shoulder at Cheryl and the random guy who offered to buy her a drink. His face hardened and his brows knitted together as the guy snaked his arm around her waist and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

Sam's fingers gently grasped the shoulder of a short-haired blonde woman and she turned with wide eyes. His lips quirked up slightly, "Meg?"

"Sam!" She practically beamed. She immediately stood up and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "What are you doing here?!"

"Uh, visiting some friends." Sam chuckled nervously. Meg peeked around him and raised her brows, her smile never leaving her face. "Where are they?"

"They, uh, aren't here yet. But, what about you, Meg? I thought you were going to California. " He said. He scratched the back of his neck and didn't notice Dean who had come up behind him and was observing the exchange.

Dean cleared his throat once and it went ignored, Meg and Sam continued to chat as if he wasn't even there. She smiled, "Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what’s-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar."

"Who?"

"Doesn't matter, anyway - it all got old so I left and I've been living here for a while." She explained.

Sam smiled and fiddled with his fingers, "You're from Chicago?"

"No, Massachusetts. Gosh - what are the chances we'd run into each other again?" Meg gushed. Dean cleared his throat again, louder this time and was ignored again much to his dismay. "Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again." Sam chuckled.

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong." She smiled. He slowly nodded along, finally noticing Dean after he cleared his throat for the third time to get their attention. Meg's eyes narrowed and her nose twinged in disgust, "Dude. Cover your mouth." 

Dean's eyes widened and he let out a tiny scoff, glancing up at Sam to see what he'd do. Sam only smiled and gestured towards him, "I'm sorry - um, Meg, this is, uh, my brother, Dean." He introduced. Dean flashed her his signature smirk, his face fell when she remained expressionless. "This is Dean?" She asked.

"Uh, yeah." Sam said. Meg's eyes sharpened and her jaw clenched and unclenched. "Oh, yeah. I've heard of you," She started coldly. Dean's brows furrowed in confusion and his posture straightened, he did it subconsciously when someone was "verbally attacking" him. "What?"

"Why don't you let him do what he wants? Instead of dragging him all over the damn country." Meg spat. Dean's lips made a little 'o' and then he jutt his thumb back towards the bar. "Okay... awkward. I'm gonna get a drink." 

As soon as Dean was out of sight, Meg was shaking her head and apologizing. "I'm sorry, Sam. It's just - the way you told me he treats you... if it were me, I'd kill him." She said sheepishly. Sam smiled reassuringly and waved her off, him and Dean were... okay now. A regular sibling spat. "It's okay, he means well." Meg nodded along and then she grinned, her brows raised expectantly. "Well, we should hook-up while you're in town."

"Sure." Sam replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to her for her to punch in her number. "You know, I never got your last name." He started.

"Masters." She said nonchalantly before handing his cell back to him.

"Yeah, so you better call." She mused.

"Scout's honour."

Cheryl slipped past a group of people and went over to Dean and handed him a whiskey shot. He cocked a brow and stared down at her, "What about your guy?" He asked. She groaned and rolled his eyes, glancing back over her shoulder at the dude who was angrily storming out of the bar. "He bought me a drink, asked me to blow him and I said no. And he got pissy." She explained. She ran her fingers through her hair and pursed her lips together, "Can you tell me why men expect sex after buying a girl a drink?"

Dean shrugged, "I dunno... want me to fuck him up?"

"Nah, he's gone." Cheryl watched as he pounded back the shot and set the empty glass on a tiny space on the bar counter. "Where's Sam?"

"Talking to sum old friend," He grumbled, rubbing his cheek. His lips curved down into a frown and his eyes met Cheryl's, "She said... she said I'm dragging Sammy around and, uh, not letting him do what he wants." He muttered. Cheryl's eyes softened and she tilted her head, reading his vulnerable expression before deciding how to react. She gently set a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze, "Well, she's wrong. Sam's a big boy, he can make his own decisions." Dean glanced down at where her hand was touching him, "Uh, yeah. Thanks." He said.

Sam was being a so-called "pervert" Dean said, going to watch Meg's apartment because he had a feeling, leaving Cheryl and Dean alone in the room. He sat hunched over Sammy's laptop researching the symbol they saw in Meredith's apartment while Cheryl slopped a mud mask all over her face. "Maybe we should see if she flinches at the mention of God." Cheryl suggested. She raised the compact mirror she had and rubbed the grey slop into her cheek. Dean sighed and rubbed his chin, "Yeah, maybe. But she might not even be a demon."

"Won't hurt to try," She said. She glanced over at Dean and her eyes widened and she smiled. "Can I put some of this mask on you?"

"What? No."

"It's good for your pores, come on, please!"

Dean smirked, "You've got a funny way of showing your affection." He teased. His eyes widened as Cheryl traced the dip in his cupid's bow, there was this focused expression on her face as she was trying to make sure she got the mask all over. "Did you find anything on her?" Sam asked. Dean raised his brows and gave Cheryl a look that was asking "can I move now," when she nodded, he swivelled around to face the laptop once again. This mud mask was cold - but it also felt... strangely good. "Sorry, man, she checks out. There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even pulled up her high school photo. Now, look, why don’t you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?" He could hear Cheryl laugh from the bathroom over the running tap which made him smile. She always laughed at his stupid jokes.

Dean pressed his phone to his ear, an unamused expression on his face as the phone rang. "Hey." Sam quickly said once he picked up. He smirked and then Cheryl grabbed his chin and made him look up at her. She kept putting globs of the face mask onto his face before rubbing it in - was there really supposed to be this much? He flushed and wrinkled his nose, "Lemme guess, you're lurkin' outside that girl's apartment like some pervert, huh?" Dean snorted.

"Stop fucking moving." Cheryl muttered under her breath as she traced the lines of his nose and under his eyes. Sam answered no, and Dean was silent until he received the answer he wanted. "Yes." He muttered.

Sam, however, ignored his comment. "What about the symbol?"

Dean sighed, "Yeah, that I did have some luck with. It’s, uh—turns out it’s Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It’s a sigil for a Daeva." He explained. Cheryl sat on the edge of the table next to him and leaned over to give his research a once over. She tilted her head and glanced at Dean, "What's the Daeva?"

"It translates to “demon of darkness”. Zoroastrian demons, and they’re savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes—kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls." Dean explained to both Cheryl and to Sam over the phone.

"How'd you figure that out?" Sam asked. She motioned for Dean to put the phone on speaker so she could hear what Sam was saying. He sighed and then chuckled, "Give me some credit, man. You don’t have a corner on paper chasin’ around here."

"You're such a liar! Listen, Sam. He called this guy named Caleb." Cheryl quickly blurted. Dean scoffed and shot her a playful glare, a smirk growing on his face. "You're a nark," He set his phone on the table and stretched his arms above his head. "Anyway, the Daeva - it has to be like, summoned, conjured. Someone's controlling it. And, from what I gather, it’s pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos." He said. Cheryl tucked her bottom lip between her teeth as Dean's shirt rode up, exposing the light skin of his belly.

This... teasing and flirting is something that they've always done - since they met. It made life a little more fun and interesting, and they both knew that nothing was meant by it. It was simple, Dean thought that Cheryl was hot and Cheryl liked to make him stutter. There wasn't anything else to it, right?

"What do they look like?" Sammy asked. Dean shrugged and tugged his shirt down, he didn't seem to notice that Cheryl was ogling him. Well, nobody knows, but nobody’s seen ‘em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we’ve got a major player in town. Now, why don’t you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?"

"Bite me."

"No, no. Bite her - don't leave teeth marks -." Dean was cut off when Sam hung up abruptly. "Rude." He muttered. He glanced over at Cheryl, finally noticing that she was staring at him. Her eyes narrowed, "What do you know about sexy biting?" She asked mockingly.

"Uh, it's hot?"

"Really? I thought you were like.... vanilla... like - never made a woman cum once," She looked him up and down, smirking when Dean's eyes widened comically and he gasped. "What?! I've made women cum - plenty of times."

"I'd say prove it, but I don't want to fuck you." She laughed. He deflated and swallowed hard, well that was cold of her. "I'm offended, why not?"

"Because you're my friend, that'd be weird." Cheryl chuckled. She tucked her hair behind her ear and hopped off the edge of the table. "Come on, let's rinse your face."

What felt like hours later (which was really just half an hour), Sam burst into the room. Cheryl and Dean both looked up, confused, from the table. Sam let out a heavy pant, "We gotta talk."

"So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?" Dean asked in a snort. Cheryl's brows furrowed and she fiddled with her fingers. "And she's using an altar to control it?" She asked. Sam nodded in confirmation and Cheryl sighed in annoyance and pinched the bridge of her nose. "And what was it again about the bowl?"

"She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone." He explained. Dean's brows furrowed and his lips parted, what were the chances that Sam's hot little girlfriend was a weirdo who talked to demons. "Who? The Daeva?" He asked.

"No, you said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who’s giving her orders. Someone who’s comin’ to that warehouse." Sam said. Dean nodded slowly and glanced over to the table where he and Cheryl setup all their things. Then, his eyes widened.

"I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That’s where everything started. So, you think Meg’s tied up with the demon?" Sam asked. Cheryl crossed her arms against her chest and glanced up at Dean. Mary Winchester - Sam and Dean's mother. About a month ago at least is when Dean finally told her about his Mom, except he left out the part where a demon killed her. She found out from Sammy what really happened - how they were forced into hunting as children because their Dad was obsessed with getting revenge. It was cruel, the way they were raised.

"Holy shit..." He murmured.

"What?" Sam said. Dean ran a hand through his messy hedgehog like hair and his lips thinned into a straight line. "What I was gonna tell you earlier - I, uh," His eyes briefly landed on Cheryl who's body was fully turned to face him - she was listening eagerly (or trying to at least.) He could tell because she was pouting her lips together - which she did whenever she was trying to focus on something. "Friend - Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the first two victims - we missed something the first time."

"What?" Sam asked. He pushed himself off of the bed and thoroughly inspected the record that Dean handed to him. He handed Cheryl the second record - the one on Meredith, "The first victim, the old man - he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here. Look where he was born."

"Lawrence Kansas." Sam whispered. Cheryl tilted her head and read over Meredith's file, "It says here that Meredith was born in Lawrence too." She informed. Sam sank into the chair across from Dean, a pale expression on his face. "Holy crap."

Dean sucked air through his teeth, "Yeah."

"It's a definite possibility." Dean muttered as he side-eyed Cheryl. He didn't want to tell her about any of this, about their Dad - and definitely nothing about what really happened to their Mom. "What's the significance with Lawrence, though? And what does the Daeva have to do with all this?"

"Maybe it's purposeful... if it is the demon that killed your Mother, maybe it's like... trying to fuck with you?" Cheryl suggested with a shrug. "Demons like to hurt and kill people, but they go with psychological torture too." She added. Dean's lips thinned and he let out a heavy sigh, why did she have to be so Goddamn insightful?  "I say we trash that altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly lil interrogation." Dean said.

"No, we need a plan. We can't just show up, guns ablaze." Cheryl scoffed. This wasn't one of those situations where they could wing it, show up without a plan and get lucky. Sam nodded in agreement with Cheryl, "We can't tip her off, we need to stake out that warehouse. See who or what is gonna meet her." He said. Dean sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. They were right. "Fine, but I do know that we can't do this alone." 

Yet again, Dean's call to John went ignored - he was leaving yet another voice-mail, asking for help. Cheryl grinded her teeth and shrugged on her leather coat, John - Father of the year - couldn't even come see or talk to Dean when he was dying in Nebraska. And now, he won't even pick up the damn phone. When Dean sighed and tucked his phone back into his pocket, Cheryl crossed her arms. "Your Dad fucking sucks." She said plainly. He shot her a glare and a muscle in his jaw twitched, she had no idea what she was talking about. "You don't know shit." He spat. Her brows shot up and before she could say anything else, Sam came back with a huge duffel bag full of stuff. Dean whistled lowly, "Jesus, what did you get?"

"I ransacked the trunk, holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half dozen religions. I’m not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything..." Sam's eyes flitted between Dean and Cheryl. Their body language was tense, and Dean was quite obviously ignoring her presence.

"Big night." Dean commented as he loaded one of the pistols. Cheryl sat cross-legged on the floor, she grabbed a handful of bullets and started filing them into the chamber one by one. "Yeah, you nervous?" Sam asked.

"No. Why, are you?" Dean questioned with a raised brow. He pursed his lips together and shook his head, "What? No... no way." Sam quickly said. His lips thinned and he swallowed hard, "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Dean replied.

"I know. I’m just sayin’, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school - be a person again."

"You wanna go back to school?" Dean asked in shock. He nodded and smiled a bit, and this is when Cheryl started to actually pay attention to them. "Yeah, when we kill this thing."

"Huh." Dean hummed out.

"What, is there something wrong with that?"

"No, good for you."

"I mean, what're you gonna do when it's all over?" Sam asked.

"It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt." Dean replied bluntly. Cheryl stood up and tucked her gun into the waistband of her jeans. "Going back to school is a good idea, considering it's free for you since you're such a nerd." She commented with a slight smile. Both the boys glanced over at her, Dean's expression was sad... and hard. Sam was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes.

The brisk night air made her fingers feel numb, she clenched her hands into fists as she followed Dean out to the Impala to throw their gear in. "Dean." Cheryl said. He ignored her, opening the trunk with a loud creak and tossing the duffel inside. She sighed deeply and her brows knitted together, it took nearly everything inside her to not yell at him. "Dean, would you just listen for a minute?" She pleaded. Dean didn't even fully turn, he merely turned his head and scowled at her. Even though she wanted to shrink and hide like a scared little girl because no matter how kind a man was, her Father ruined her for life. "What?" He asked harshly.

"I'm sorry - I just, I just -."

"You just what?"

"I think you deserve more. You - you deserve a Dad who doesn't ignore you - and a Dad who actually comes to see you when you're sick and dying."  Cheryl swallowed hard and let out a tiny sigh, she hadn't taken a breath throughout that whole sentence. "I'm just saying, you deserve a Dad who actually gives a fuck. You'll always have people who love and support you," She reached out to touch him but she hesitated, Cheryl wanted to comfort him - let him know she meant well but most people didn't like such... affectionate and touchy friends.

This old dusty warehouse - that probably had rust and tetanus all over the place. The empty elevator shaft had a flickering light up at the top and a wired gate extended from the bottom to the top. Dean climbed up first, then Cheryl and then Sam. Ever since Cheryl joined them, they always had this formation when they did anything. She was always in the middle - consciously they had no reason - but subconsciously, they were protecting her.

"I support you, always. Even when you piss me off, and I'm not gonna say that I love you because that's weird... but you know what I mean." Cheryl trailed off. Dean's eyes softened and he looked down at the ground, trying to ignore the tightening in his stomach. "You're so nice that it's annoying." He muttered under his breath, a little smirk growing on his face. Her lips stretched up into a smile and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Only to people I like, and I like you and Sam. I consider us best friends."

"Don't best friends know each other's birthdays?" He teased. Cheryl laughed and her eyes crinkled with joy, "Well, Sam knows my birthday."

"Fuck off, that's not fair."

"Look, I'll tell you after we're done with this Meg and Daeva stuff. But don't make a big deal out of it, please."

"Why? Is it soon?"

"Yes."

There was some quiet mummering in an ancient language from Meg, Dean got a glimpse of her back when he slipped past a small space between the wall and gate. Once they reached a concealed opening behind at least a dozen crates, they all pulled out their guns and cocked them.

Suddenly, a shadowy monster formed on the wall - it had long claws and a shaggy cloak looking thing. Its face couldn't be seen, but its ghastly form would send shivers down anyone's spine. Cheryl's eyes widened and she darted towards Sam instinctively as the Daeva crept along the wall towards him. "Sam!" Then - she was swept off her feet and her head slammed against the concrete floor. Cheryl was slid across the floor and thrown into one of the wooden beams. The air was completely knocked out of her and Cheryl was gasping for air as well as trying to groan in pain. The same happened to Sam - he was knocked off of his feet and Dean was thrown into the empty crates.

"Guys." Meg began. Cheryl's eyes widened and the brothers both shared a stunned look. Meg turned slowly with a wide cold smirk on her face, "Hiding is a bit childish, don't you think?" She mocked. Cheryl swallowed hard and was the first to step out from behind the crates. She smiled, "We haven't met yet. I'm Cheryl."

Meg cocked her head to the side and looked her up and down. "No, we haven't." She leaned over as Sam and Dean appeared behind her with sheepish expressions on their faces. "I have to say, Sam. This puts a real crimp in our relationship." She tsked.

He scoffed. "Tell me about it."

"So, where's your little Daeva friend?" Dean asked.

"Around." She grinned. Meg took one step forward before stopping, just a couple of feet away from Cheryl. "So, who is it, Meg? Who’s coming? Who are you waiting for?" Sam spoke up. She let out a little giggle and her grin widened, "You."

Cheryl couldn't remember anything after that - she hit her head so hard that everything was spinning and everything she heard was in one ear and out the other. When she finally came to, her hands were bound around the wooden post and Meg's mocking giggle rang through her ears. "Oh, looks like little Cheryl is awake." Cheryl blinked her eyes open and Meg's blurry form came into view as she crouched down in front of her. "You missed out on all the fun, baby doll." She smirked. Cheryl's brows furrowed and she inhaled sharply, "Don't call me that." She muttered. She had enough sense to tell Meg off despite the fact that her head was throbbing like crazy.

"You leave her alone!" Dean barked from across the room. "Your fights with us, not her." Meg slowly turned, her eyes harsh and her smile was completely gone. "I may be wanting your guys' Daddy to come but that doesn't mean Cheryl here doesn't have her own connections." She glanced back at Cheryl, "And he lives right here in Chicago, doesn't he?" Meg mocked. Cheryl's eyes narrowed venomously and her nostrils flared, she couldn't say anything. She didn't want to give Meg the satisfaction of knowing that she got to her.

"Oh, sweetheart - you’re dumber than you look. 'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn’t walk into something like this. He’s too good." Dean scoffed. Meg stepped away from Cheryl and sauntered over to Dean, "He is pretty good. I’ll give you that." She started. She straddled Dean's legs and crouched down low to meet his eyes. "But you see, he has one weakness."

"What's that?"

"You. He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgement. I happen to know he is in town. And he’ll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody - nice and slow and messy." She glanced back at Cheryl who was currently struggling to stay conscious. "Though I doubt that he gives a shit about her."

"Why are you doing this, Meg? What kind of deal do you have worked out, huh? And with who?" Sam questioned. Her head jerked over in his direction and she smiled sickly. "I’m doing this for the same reasons you do what you do - loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy - and Jess."

"Go to hell."

"Baby, I'm already there." Meg purred. She slid off of Dean and crawled into Sam's lap, "Come on, Sam. No need to be nasty." She raked her fingers through Sam's hair and leaned in - much too close too as her breath was hot against his ear. "I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me - changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn’t it?"

Dean fiddled with a little blade he had between his fingers, silently moving it along the thick rope that had his wrists tied. It slipped past his fingers and clattered to the floor and Dean clenched his teeth together, letting out a silent curse word. Meg's head snapped over, her eyes wide with fury as she pulled herself off of Sam and stalked over to Dean. She snatched the knife up from off the floor and tossed it to a dark corner of the room. Dean chuckled guilty and slid his tongue across his bottom lip as he looked away. "Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?" Meg cooed as she straddled Sam's lap. He grinned, "No. No. That’s because I have a knife of my own." Meg's brows furrowed in confusion and Sam was quick to act, breaking free from the ropes and grasping her shoulders. He slammed his head against hers and she fell back onto the cool concrete floor. Sam groaned in pain and rubbed his forehead, this is last time he ever headbutts someone.

Cheryl lazily looked up at them through her brows, she was seeing double - seeing double of Meg assaulting Sam. "You... you leave him alone..." She said weakly. She hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut, there was no doubt that she had a concussion with how hard she hit her head. Her plea, which was meant as a threat, went ignored by Meg. She smirked against Sam's neck and started to pepper kisses along the sensitive skin. "I don't mind, I liked that you were watching me."

"You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I’m a little tied up right now." He said through his teeth. Meg giggled mischievously and continued to kiss his neck, making disgusting sloppy sounds that made Dean want to vomit.

"Sam! The altar!" Dean yelled. Sam rushed to his feet and past Meg who was now starting to get up. He flipped over the freaky altar - the bowls and glasses shattered as they hit the floor, littering glass shards all across it. A faint growl filled the air and the Daeva materialized - just as Sam rushed to Dean to cut him free, Meg was dragged by the ankle and thrown out the massive window by the Daeva. These types of things - demons, reapers, et cetera, did not like to be controlled and more often than not, once they weren't under control, they took revenge.

Dean cut Cheryl free and cupped her cheek, "Hey, come on. You okay?" He asked softly. She groaned and wrinkled her nose, her head was throbbing and she was slowly regaining non-blurry vision. "My head hurts." She whispered with a slight smile. Dean nodded and took her hands, "We gotta get out of here, come on." He pulled her up to her feet and stilled her when she stumbled. Cheryl clenched her teeth, "Stop touching me, I'm fine." She didn't like it when people touched her, especially with any permission - she had to be the one to initiate physical contact. "Okay, sorry." He muttered.

Cheryl rubbed the back of her head and winced, she stopped walking and frowned. She had a massive goose egg on the back of her head, God, she hoped it wasn't noticeable. Dean stopped beside her and cocked a brow, "So... we're done with the Daeva stuff." He trailed off.

"Yeah, so?" She looked him up and down, her lip twinging in slight annoyance and pain. Will this headache ever go away? He smiled briefly and rubbed the back of his neck, "You said you'd tell me your birthday. Come on, you said it's soon - and you're what? Turning twenty-eight?"

"Yes, I thought you would have forgotten to be honest." She sighed. Cheryl glanced back over her shoulder at Sam who was walking quite... slow and was quite far behind them. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed together, Sam was doing this on purpose - that little half smile he sent her was proof. Dean smiled eagerly and let out a little exhale, she was either an Aries or a Taurus... and fire signs were fun, like that cop Amy.

"March 30th." She answered finally. Dean's eyes widened and his brows shot up, so she was an Aries... that made sense, she was fiery and, well, angry. "Wait-.... that's in a damn week!"

"Uh-huh." She hummed out. "Why didn't you leave the bag in the car?" Cheryl called back to Sam. He sped up and adjusted how the duffel was sitting on his shoulder - this damn bag full of weapons was heavy as hell. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, better safe than sorry." Sam murmured as Dean fished through his pockets for the key to their room.

Dean glanced over at Cheryl as he jimmied the key, "I like pie, what about you?" He grinned. She tilted her head and her lips thinned into a straight line. She didn't like pie that much, it was hard to find a good place - but she did like the apple pie that Burger King sold. "Not much of a pie person, I like red velvet cake." She said. He pushed the door open and sighed, "Red velvet is good." Dean commented. He was slightly disappointed that she said that she didn't like pie. Pie was great, everything about it was perfect. What's not to like? "Isn't that just dyed chocolate?" Sam questioned with a raised brow.

"You shut your whore mouth." Cheryl gasped. Dean chuckled and flipped the light on, then, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Dad?" Dean said, astonished. He stepped forward and John had his hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey boys." He said. His voice was gravelly - and he had a few faint scars on his face. Dean looked quite a bit like him, actually (but in Cheryl's opinion Dean was better looking.) John pulled Dean into a tight hug while Sam lingered near Cheryl. "Hi, Sam." John's eyes flickered to Cheryl and his posture immediately straightened and his face hardened. "Who are you?"

"Cheryl Jones." She smiled briefly and extended her hand for him to shake. "Nice to meet you finally. I've heard so much." He took her hand and gave it a tight squeeze as he shook it. "Have you?"

"Oh, yeah." Cheryl's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. She didn't even know John that well, but she knew already that she hated him.

Sam set the duffel on the floor and he smiled sadly, he always imagined what it'd be like when he saw his Dad again - but he never imagined it'd go like this. "Hey, Dad."

"I didn't know it was a trap - I'm sorry." Dean started. He was so quick to explain - to defend himself, it made Cheryl wonder what happened during his childhood for him to be like this. "It's all right. I thought so." John said. Cheryl squeezed past Sam and went across the room to dig through her bag. This was awkward, she just wanted to leave, but then she remembered that Dean had her damn keys. 

"It's been too long." He said as he tugged Sam into a tight hug. Sammy wrapped his arms around his torso, it felt good to finally be able to speak to each other without fighting again. Once they pulled apart, all three of them shared tearful looks. They were a family again, though Cheryl being here was unexpected to John. He'd find out what he could on her. 

"Good. Well, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s tried to stop me before." John said. Sam's brows knitted together and he exhaled sharply, "The demon?"

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it - not just send it back to Hell, kill it."

"How?" Dean asked.

John smiled, "I'm workin' on it."

"Let us come with you - we'll help." Sam quickly pleaded. Dean's forehead creased and his jaw flexed as he shot Sam a warning look. They'd been over this so many times - and it never got through him.

"No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don’t want you caught in a crossfire. I don’t want you to get hurt."

"You don't have to worry about us."

"Of course I do, I'm your father." John stepped forward and then hesitated, him and Sam weren't on the best of terms. Things went down pretty bad the last time they saw each other. "Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir." Sam nodded. Cheryl squinted and looked between the Father and son's, it was so odd that they were calling their own Dad "sir."  

Suddenly, John was thrown back into a row of cabinets by an unknown force. There was an unmistakable crunch as he hit the fragile wood - hopefully they got out of here before they'd have to pay for damages. Sam was knocked back into the radiator and the hot metal sizzled against his skin. These things always got dangerously hot - he burnt his fingers on them all the time as a kid. "No!" Dean yelled. Cheryl was tossed back into Dean and they both fell right on their asses - or, Cheryl fell onto Dean's lap. He cushioned her landing, for the time being.

The Daeva's were back, and so was Meg. She stood outside their motel room - a cruel grin on her face. Around her neck there was this odd looking red pendant attached to a faux silver chain. The dark atmosphere - quiet sound of traffic and rain made watching the four of them get beat and tossed around like rag dolls much, much better.

Cheryl winced as these deep, long scratches stretched across her neck. She exhaled sharply and her shaky fingers grazed over the marks - she flinched and looked down at her blood covered fingertips. She snatched her clothes bag off the desk before she was knocked off her feet right onto her stomach again. Then, her eyes locked on the bag full of weapons that Sam brought back to the room with them. "Sam!" She yelled. Cheryl clenched her teeth and attempted to crawl her way towards him. "The bag! Flares!" She hissed through her teeth.

Sam dug through the bag - finally pulling out one of the two flares he tossed in there just hours before. "Shut your eyes!" He called out to Dean and John. He slammed the end of it against the edge of an old dresser and glanced around for a lighter. Cheryl, thankful that she was a smoker, dug through her tiny pants pocket and slid it across the floor to him. "Sam! By your damn leg." Cheryl hissed.

The brief flicker of the flame from the lighter was the only thing Dean saw until a bright, blinding white light and smoke filled the room. He coughed and climbed to his feet, "Dad!" He squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled as his shins hit one of the bed frames. "Cher!"

"Over here!" John yelled. Dean stumbled towards him, he forced his eyes open just enough to make out the vague shape of him. Just as their hands grasped one another and he hoisted him up, he called out her name again. "Cheryl!"

"I'm with Sam!" She called back. Dean and John filed out the door, Father leaning on son more than anything. Cheryl tugged one of the straps of her bag over her shoulder and heaved out a heavy breath. Was everything spinning? Just then, Sam took her hand and led her out of the room. He kept a tight grip, even going as far as to entwine their fingers together. Dean had Dad, he had Cheryl. Everyone was safe. 

"We don't have long until the flares out and they're back." Sam panted. Cheryl withdrew her hand from his grasp and rubbed her temple, ever since she met these boys four months ago, she's been getting into so much trouble. But honestly? It was worth it. Dean's brows furrowed and his nose scrunched, "Sam, wait! Dad can't come with us."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You boys are beat to hell." John started. His eyes briefly landed on Cheryl, his eyes narrowed slightly and his jaw flexed. "And you."

"Wonderful observation." She muttered under her breath. Cheryl rolled her eyes as she turned away from him, crouching low to the ground to hopefully calm the dizziness. "We'll be okay." Dean quickly interjected. He glanced down at Cheryl and swallowed hard, they were all badly beat up - but she already got it bad in the warehouse. He hoped that she was okay.

John gently patted Sam's arm and looked between his boys, they were good men, good soldiers. They better be ready for this. And with that, he turned on his heel and shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he trudged his way to his truck.

"Dean - no, we have to stick together. We'll go after those demons -" Sam began.

"Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don’t you understand? They’re not gonna stop. They’re gonna try again. They’re gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He - he’s stronger without us around." He interrupted. Sam's lips curved down into a frown and he shook his head. "Dad, no." He set a hand on John's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. "After everything - after all the time we spent lookin’ for you - please. I gotta be a part of this fight."

"Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you’ve got to trust me, son." John smiled a bit, there was a hint of tears that shone in his eyes. It wasn't safe for his boys, it wasn't safe for him either. But he couldn't lose them like he lost Mary.

The headlights lit up as the truck roared to life, illuminating the little hidden alley that they were in. Sam and Dean watched as John reversed, then disappeared completely as he whipped down the road.

Dean glanced down at Cheryl and his lips thinned, "You okay, Cher?" He inquired.

"I'm perfect." She said through clenched teeth. A quiet shuffling sounded from around the motels building, it gradually got louder as they grew closer and Cheryl's head snapped up. A very tall muscular man with long, shaggy brunette hair rounded the corner. He was good looking, kind of hairy all over - Dean's eye's dragged up his arms which were covered in hair and old tattoos with wicked blowout. Cheryl's eyes widened and her bottom lip puffed out, "Carlos?"

His eyes softened at the sight of her, "Oh... Cherry." He whispered. He ignored Sam and Dean as he swept her up into a tight hug, cradling her head to his chest. "Why didn't you tell me that you were here?" He asked hoarsely. Cheryl sniffled and shrugged, she was trying to resist the urge to cry. She couldn't cry in front of Sam and Dean, that'd be embarrassing. "I don't know, sorry." She whispered.

Cheryl pulled back from the hug and gestured to the two brothers who were waiting patiently for an introduction behind them. "This is Sam and Dean." She said. Carlos' brows shot up and he smiled before nodding, "Oh yeah, Cherry's told me about you guys."

"She has?" Dean asked.

"Mhm." He hummed out. He gestured to them, "You guys okay? You look bad." He asked. They were beaten badly, pretty bloody and they had numerous scratches all across their faces. "Yeah, we're okay," Dean replied. Cheryl glanced up at Carlos and took his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "We have to go, I'm sorry. I need you to take my bike for me - and hide the stuff that's in that little compartment under the seat."

"Of course." Carlos said with a soft smile. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, "Stay safe."

Dean's nostrils flared as he watched them, they were close - very close. Cheryl never hugged him (aside from in Nebraska that one time), she never held his hands and she sure as hell would flip if he kissed her forehead. Carlos and her were close... closer than they'd ever be. Cheryl glanced back at Dean and sent him a half smile, "My keys, please?"

"Oh, yeah." Dean muttered as he dug through his pockets for her keys. He felt various things, most of which weren't his. Cheryl's lip balm, her phone, her wallet, hair ties - she never carried her own shit. She hated purses and always complained about how her pockets were too tiny. If anything, Dean was her purse. 

After a heartfelt goodbye, Sam helped Cheryl into the backseat while Carlos adjusted her bike so he could ride comfortably. He glanced back at Dean and smiled slightly, "Nice meeting you." 

Dean's lips thinned, "Yeah. You too."

They were driving down this strip that would eventually take them out of the city. Cheryl rested her head against the window, she would rest against the actual seat, but it hurt a shit ton to do that. Her eyes widened as she realized they were going to pass right by where Marisol was staying. "Pull over." She said. Dean's brows furrowed and he looked at her through the rearview mirror. "You gonna hurl?"

"No, I just want to pop into somewhere. I'll be less than twenty minutes."

"Seriously? We gotta get out of here." He huffed. Cheryl's eyes narrowed and she attempted to open the door - but of course it was locked. "Pull. Over. Or I'll key your fucking car." She hissed.

"Okay! Okay! Fuck. Twenty minutes, that's it." He grumbled as he signalled and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Cheryl?" Marisol said quietly. She smiled widely and sat up in bed, Cheryl tilted her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Hey, Mari." She whispered. She took note of how Marisol's once long, luscious hair was wrapped up in a silk scarf - what was left of it from chemo at least. Cheryl pinched the tips of her fingers as she took a seat by her bed. She looked... sad - pale, weak, sickly. Her throat felt like it was closing up - and her heart felt like a deadweight in her chest. "How are you?" Cheryl asked, her voice hoarse. She sniffled and forced a smile on her face and Marisol frowned. "Oh, don't cry on me. All Carlos does is cry. I can't deal with you too."

Dean glanced over at Sam once Cheryl went into this random building. He pursed his lips together and his brows furrowed, "What do you think she's doing?" He asked. Sam shrugged and smiled a bit, "Dunno, but you guys fight like a married couple."

"What? No we don't." He scoffed.

"Yeah, you do. Do you like her or something?"

"What?! No!" Dean laughed. He shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his chin, he wanted whatever Sam was on. "You sure?" Sam asked with a smug grin.

"Yes! I don't like her, she's... she's... a friend - and, I'm totally out of her league." He snorted. Sam laughed and palmed his face, Dean had it completely wrong. "No, dude. She's out of your league." 

Cheryl's bottom lip wobbled and she swiped her thumbs under her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry... did he paint your nails yet today? Can I do it?"

Marisol smiled, "Of course. Just like old times." Cheryl turned and wiped her nose on her sleeve, there was a whole side table full of various nail polishes. Some with glitter, neons, sparkles, matte, glossy, she could open her own nail salon if she wanted. "Can I do this sparkly green? It's nice." Marisol nodded.

The closer she inspected the colour, it reminded her of something oddly familiar. She couldn't quite place her finger on it - but it was a lovely green, really. "My sister said that she sent you flowers, did you get them?" Cheryl asked. Marisol chuckled and nodded, she pointed to a very large bouquet of yellow roses and baby's breath. "Yup." Cheryl's face fell, the thing was huge - a massive statement piece. "Oh God, ever the narcissist." She joked.

"Hey, if I was named Rosità I'd be obsessed with roses too." Marisol giggled. Cheryl snorted and set the nail polish between her thighs, she found that it went on smoother if it got warm. "I was always so jealous that she got a name close to our heritage as a kid, and I got Cheryl Lynn."

"Cheryl Lynn is pretty." Marisol interjected. Cheryl dipped the brush into the little jar and painted over the faint pink on her thumbnail. Her brows raised and she smiled, "This is a really nice colour... wow."

"You can take it, consider it an early birthday gift." Marisol said sweetly. Her brows furrowed and she smiled wide, "Really?"

"Mhm, would look better on you rather than me." Marisol said. She held up the hand that Cheryl just finished painting and sighed deeply, "See?"

"I think it looks great, now give me your other hand." Cheryl laughed as she shook her head.

It was early in the morning, close to around four when Dean pulled into a gas station. It was the only thing open, he wanted a snack and they needed gas. Plus, it'd be nice to stretch their legs.

Cheryl climbed into the backseat of the Impala and slammed the door shut. Dean turned abruptly and shot her a glare, "Watch it."

"Shut up." She groaned as she laid on her side across the entire backseat. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat and turned away from them, it took every ounce of strength she had not to burst into tears. Cheryl hadn't seen Marisol since before she got diagnosed, and a part of her wished that this all wasn't real - just some cruel prank. It all was finally real to her, Marisol was dying and she won't get better.

As soon as he parked, Cheryl practically jumped out of the car. Dean cocked a brow and watched as she grabbed the only thing that she kept in her pockets - smokes. "I need a cig, go ahead guys." She said shakily as she set the cigarette between her lips. The jingle of the bell above the door, signalling that the boys had gone inside finally gave her permission to cry. Cheryl sniffled and took a drag, her lips curled down and she let out a tiny sob as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Cheryl sank down onto the curb and rubbed one of her eyes with the butt of her palm - she was crying so hard that everything was magnified like crazy. It wasn't pretty crying either, blubbery, messy, snotty - full on embarrassing. But, she was grieving over her friend - her best friend. She sniffled hard and dug the head of her cigarette into the cement beside her. She'd choke on the smoke like an idiot if she tried for another drag.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked gently. Cheryl's head snapped over and then she squinted through the tears, this was just her luck. Sam sat down next to her and he tucked his tongue into his cheek. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, "Oh, yeah I'm fine." She wavered. Then, she burst into another fit of tears. Cheryl buried her face in her hands and shook her head, "No! No, I'm not okay." She confessed. Sam frowned deeply and leaned towards her, "What's wrong?" He asked. Cheryl's bottom lip quivered and she wiped her nose on her sleeve. She whimpered and she looked at him sadly, "My friend has cancer. She's in hospice, she was my last minute stop..."

"Oh... Cheryl... I'm so sorry." He whispered. His lips curved down and he gently set his hand on her back, rubbing soft circles across the expanse of it. "Yeah... it's really hard. It's always the good people who get the short end of the stick." Cheryl replied. More tears welled in her eyes and her fingers grazed over the bump on the back of her head. "And my head really hurts." She whimpered.

"Guys...?" Dean said with wide eyes. He had a plastic bag full of snacks and a can of Coke in hand. His brows furrowed in concern as both Sam and Cheryl looked back at him. Cheryl's eyes and face were red and puffy - she looked like her dog just died or something. Sam discreetly shook his head and Dean straightened up, swallowing hard. "Do... Do you want anything?" He asked quietly. Cheryl slowly nodded and she pouted her lips together, "I really want a slurpee..." She trailed off.

"I'll get you one - a big one - uh, you want the fancy vanilla Coke flavour?"

"Yes please..."

Cheryl wiped her eyes and let out a deep sigh, "God, I am so embarrassed." She whispered, shaking her head in shame. Sam frowned and shook his head, "Don't be... I can't imagine what you're going through right now."

"Don't lie, you understand." She whispered tearfully. He swallowed hard and looked away, yeah, he did get it. His Mom, Jessica, God, he missed Jess. "How do you cope?" She asked. Sam frowned again and his eyes met hers, "Honestly?" She nodded.

"I don't."