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peachesofteal · 1 year

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I got you

How did this happen? I don’t know. I’ve been watching my person play too much MW2, and then went looking for Ghost fics, so now my brain is infected.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley/female reader AO3 - Part one of the Sassy series 3.8k words - one shot Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Blood, violence, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, size difference/kink, creampie, hurt/comfort. Lots of swearing. Everyone is bad at feelings. Notes: EOD = Explosive Ordnance Disposal. He doesn't know your name. You've never seen his face.

It’s fucking hot. Belize is so hot. It’s the kind of hot that clings to every pore of your skin, the sweat slicking across your body until you’re shiny, breath coming in short pants because the air is so god damn thick.

“Sassy. Do you copy.” Soap’s voice rings over the comms, snapping you to attention. Your fingers slip on the button. Belize would probably be better if this was a vacation, and not an Op. A gnat whines next your ear, and you press your chin into your shoulder.

“I’m in position.” You whisper. “All clear.” An affirmative rings back as Price gives command to the others. You sit silent. Gaz spits something over the radio, but it's not directed at you, so it doesn’t register. You sit still.

You always sit still.

“You the demo expert?” The brunette with a Scottish accent and scarred chin looks you up and down.

“I’m a bomb tech.” you dead pan, eyes darting around the tent. There are only 3 others here. You were expecting a whole team. He chuckles.

“Suicide squad. Nice.” Another man, rises from where he’s sitting a few yards away. You recognize him immediately. Price.

“Sassy.” He extends his hand, and you grip it in yours.

“Captain.”

“It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” You nod, managing to steal another look at the others. A younger guy sits on a table in the far corner, ball cap sitting on top of his head. A bigger man, broad, stands near an open flap, arms crossed across his chest, eyes watching you from behind the skull mask that’s pulled down his face.

You do a double take. For a second, you think he’s Mace. Your heart pounds in your chest. Price is speaking, but you’re not hearing a word. Your fingers curl into a fist as you shake your memories loose and refocus. The man in the skull mask doesn’t react, doesn’t even flinch in reaction to your odd behavior.

That’s not Mace.

So, it must be Ghost.

“I’ve got two making entry, east side.” You whisper into the radio, watching the men push through the door. You’re nowhere near a clean shot. You curse. “Soap. Come in.” The line is silent, and unease pools in your gut. “Captain, do you copy.” You call, the words cutting into the air. What is going on? “SOAP.” The word is a hiss that’s met with uncomfortable silence. Fuck.

“Why does the Captain call ya Sassy?” Soap asks one night. You’re outside under the bug net, sitting on a picnic table with him. Ghost looms ten feet away, a barely touched bottle of beer looking tiny in his massive hand. You smirk at the question.

“I’m a pain in the ass.” You say affectionately, lips curling into a smile. “But I’m also the best.”

“You’ve gotta be next level crazy to run with EOD.” Soap tilts his beer to his lips, polishing the rest off with a burp. “’Scuse me.” He stands, he stumbles, he dips into the dark where he can’t be seen. You hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled down.

“How long you been a bomb tech?” you whip your head around at the sound of Ghost’s voice, directed towards you. It nearly makes you stutter.

“A few years.”

“That all you do?” The presumption shocks you. Private sector or not, these guys were all the same. If you’re a bomb tech, you must not be able to handle a gun. You whirl on him fully, taking two steps in his direction, your own glass bottle pointed in your hand.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

He cocks his head.

“Can you shoot, Sassy?” your upper lip trembles as it curls in disdain.

“I can shoot your dick off if you’d like.” He’s still ten feet across the way, but you’re shaking with anger. You watch as the impression of the mask shifts, the bottom half of the skull moving with his lips.

He’s fucking smiling at you.

You’re about to let a stream of expletives fall from your mouth when Soap stumbles back under the net, face goofy and carefree. He draws your attention to a specific lightbulb, drunkenly mumbling something about its color that briefly distracts you.

When you look back at Ghost, he’s gone.

The men are setting charges against the exit door that the 141 is planning to use. “Damn it all to hell.” You curse, slinging your rifle over your shoulder and making a beeline off the roof. “I’m vacating.” You huff into the comms. “Inspecting demo charges, east side. Does anyone copy?” The radio silence is freaking you out. The 141 is practically a machine, for Christ’s sake. Methodical, clinical, well-practiced. A small infiltration should have been a piece of cake. You’re scurrying down a ladder when the radio crackles. Your diaphragm heaves in relief. Ghost’s voice fills your ears.

“Roger Sass. Keep me informed.” Me, not us. He’s slipping.

The door wasn’t locked.

The door wasn’t locked, and you really had to pee. These guys could piss in the yard, they could piss in a can, they could piss out the window of the truck for all you gave a shit. You needed a toilet.

You shouldered through the door, eyes down until you felt it slam against solid mass.

When you jerk your head up in confusion, all you see is black face paint and blonde eyelashes in the little mirror over the sink. The look in his eyes as he meets your gaze stuns you.

Ghost.

“Shit. Fuck.” You avert your gaze like you’ve seen him naked. Which is ridiculous, honestly. You didn’t even see the man’s whole face. “Sorry.” You mutter, turning on your heel.

“You’re alright, Sass.” He steps away from the sink. “I’m finished.” You stand halfway in the doorway, halfway in the tiny bathroom. You’re not even sure it is tiny, to be honest. It just looks small compared to his giant frame. You eye his bare hand, foreign to you without the glove, and swallow.

“Okay.” You turn to the side to give space for him to squeeze by you. He’s still wearing his tac gear, down to the tight-laced boots and vest. You already shed yours when you crossed the threshold of the tent, depositing it in the corner so you could breathe a bit. You shift when he passes, the roughness of his vest brushing against your thin sports bra and tank top. He’s looking down at you as he pauses in the doorway, with his head cocked to the side, brows lowered, eyes cataloguing your body. He lingers on the gash in your shoulder.

“Get that cleaned up.” It’s an order.

You swallow, even though your mouth is well past dry.

“I’m pushing towards the door.” You cross the street like a cat, slinking against the buildings and sticking to shadows. Soap chirps something over comms, but it’s too garbled to hear. You creep around the corner, ducking your head once to check for all clear before you’re crouched, walking slowly towards where you see the blinking charges. “I’ve got live explosives.” You wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead as you whisper into the comms. “Repeat. Live charges on east door.” It’s Price that answers you, a gunshot echoing from two floors above.

“Clear it, Sassy.”

“Copy.”

“I knew a guy.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to play it off, but your eyes dart between the three of them.

“That wore a skull mask?” Gaz’s voice is incredulous, and you don’t blame him. It’s hard to believe. You nod. Ghost’s eyes watch you from the dark. They pin you down, marking your every move. You push it further.

“His name was Mace. I ran in a private company with him for a minute.” Soap visibly shifts, body angling towards his LT. Ghost’s hand flexes on his thigh. The fidget confirms your suspicions. You sip the last of your beer and beam it towards the rim of the metal trashcan. “It was short lived.”

They’re rudimentary. You’ve seen shit like this before, usually in IEDs, sometimes in homemade Semtex. You can practically hear your dad’s voice as you snip and pull wires. It’s like a dance. Watch your feet, or it’l go hot on ya. The lack of sophistication is laughable, and you’re pulling the first one off the door hinge in record time. You’re nearly congratulating yourself, all cocky and stupid, when you hear the telltale click of a gun.

The end of a barrel presses to the back of your skull.

“Don’t move.” You raise your hands slowly as the voice instructs you. “Turn around.” Your stomach bucks into your throat as you eye the man and his wild eyes. He looks desperate. Not good. “Those your guys up there?” He nods his head upwards. You stay still. You stay silent.

It started as a drinking game. You’d lose a hand; you’d tell a truth.

He’d lose a hand; he’d tell a truth. The half empty bottle of tequila lubricated you both, keeping you loose and easy, little pieces of your lives slipping your from lips without a care.

“You know mine.”

“Everyone knows yours, Simon.” You use it for affect. You can practically see him scowling under the mask.

“That’s what I want Sass, you lost. You spill.” He turns away from you and swipes the bottle from the table, lifting the bottom of the mask to take a swig. You sigh.

“Not going to happen. Pick something else.”

“Come on.. It’s just your name.” the gravel in his voice sends shivers across your skin.

“And it’s just your face.” His head jerks back in surprise, and he puts the bottle down on the table unfolding his giant legs from underneath the picnic table. He’s leaving. “Oh, come on.” You call at his retreat, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back at you.

“Well?” The man steps closer, and you eye the other charge that’s still live. You’re not good in these situations. You’re a bomb tech, not a people person. The gun barrel presses more firmly against your head.

“Ye- yeah. They’re mine.” He leers at you. He’s not the same as the other two, the guys who planted these charges. He’s someone else. Your radio crackles.

“Sass.” It’s Ghost. You close your eyes for a second and try to get a handle on yourself. You’ve been through way worse. Get it together. “Sass. You copy?” The man with the gun studies you for a second, before he’s reaching for your radio, ripping it from your tac vest as hard as he can. You watch as his finger presses on the comm button. You lunge, yelling in warning, hoping it makes it through the static. He spins, trying to dodge you but you reach for his gun, desperate to pull it from his hands before he can fire it. You hear shouting behind you, the heavy thud of familiar footsteps drawing closer as you wrestle over the weapon. You catch a glimpse of Ghost from the corner of your eye before the guy you’re fighting with is turning, barrel pointed right at your chest. Shit.

“How’d you get into bombs?” you laugh at the question, and then tilt your head and study him.

“I like puzzles.” His eyes flick back and forth behind the mask, watching you as you watch him. You decide to test it. “My Dad can’t do a crossword, but he’s got a way with wires. Passed it down to me, I guess.” He nods knowingly. You don’t say anything further. The air between the two of you feels thick, and it’s not just the heat.

“How’d you get into SAS?” he grunts.

“I’ve got a way with guns.”

Your eyes blink open slowly to the feel of your cheek being smashed against someone’s tac vest. The guys are shouting. An engine is roaring. Your abdomen is burning.

“Shit.” You slur, vaguely aware that you’re sitting in someone’s lap, arms supporting your body as the truck careens around a corner. “Shot?” your mouth struggles to form the word and you look down to see a massive hand pressed against your ribcage. Ghost’s hand. Your own fingers crawl over his. They’re wet. Blood.

“Don’t move, Sass.” His voice is low, and he only glances down at you for a second but you know. You can feel it in the way his palm presses into your wound. You can see it in the tick of his jaw. You groan.

“Fucker shot me?” Your tongue weighs a million pounds. Gaz swears nervously next you on the seat.

“You’re alright.” Ghost says, legs flexing as the truck takes another turn, trying to keep you from jostling too much. “You’ll be fine.” You nod your agreement. You feel thick fingers stroke through the hair at the crown of your head as you drift off, the world tinging to black around you.

“LT doesn’t call you Sassy.” Johnny muses. You stretch your arms in the chair, twisting your back in hopes of cracking it a bit.

“He doesn’t.” you confirm. It’s just Sass with Ghost. Always.

“Why?”

“Don’t know.”

You wake again when you get back, your body still pressed the Ghost’s chest as he powers through camp, practically running towards the med tent. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion, and at superspeed. You can’t see straight. The fire shooting in your nerves makes you want to gag. There’s someone else, walking next to you. They’re speaking in low tones to Ghost, and they brush their hand along your shoulder like they’re trying to grab you. He barks something at them, curling your body closer to his, and then you’re slipping away again, closing your eyes to fall into darkness.

“Do you ever think about what’d you do, if you didn’t do this?” he shakes his head no, immediately.

“You?” you drink a swig of water, holding the bottle out to him. His fingers wrap around yours as he takes it.

“I think I’d like to work an office job. Something boring, you know. Uneventful.”

“You wanna be bored, Sass?” You shrug, and step closer, your hips brushing between his spread legs. He blows a breath out through his nose.

“I’m sure I could find a way to make it interesting.” You take another sip, letting a single drop slip from your bottom lip and down your throat. Ghost tracks it the entire way.

He doesn’t really speak to anyone for days after you wake from surgery. And when you’re finally moving around, back with the team, he acts like he can’t see you.

It’s weeks later, when you sit next to him at the top of the stairs of the new safehouse you all moved to. The rest of the team is down in the living room, crowded around the smallest TV that Gaz rigged, watching a soccer game.

“You good?” you ask and turn to him. He doesn’t respond, just stares at the peeling paint on the opposite wall. You reach out to him slowly, watching his eyes flicker in case it’s more than just, general brooding Simon. “Ghost?”

“He put a bullet in your ribs.” Oh. Oh.

“Shit happens.” You shrug and try to play it off.

“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” He turns to look right at you, something wild lurking beneath his skin. His hand shoots out and grips you by your collarbone, five fingers folding over it with ease. He could snap you in half. You swallow thickly.

He jerks your torso, moving you like a ragdoll until he’s leaning down into your face.

“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” he says again, and you nod. His grip is strong, and his blatant contact with your body heats something alive between your legs. Something the two of you have been dancing around until this point.

“Okay. Okay, Ghost. I got you.” You whisper. His ungloved hand comes up to press a thumb into your bottom lip, sliding it across the skin there. He’s wearing the mask, but you can see the blonde flutter of his eyelashes, eyes heavy as he regards you. You blink once, twice, before he’s hauling you up with both hands, wrapping an arm around your pliable body and pushing you into the shadow of the landing. For a moment, neither of you move, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay when he pushes you back against the wall, nose pressing into the curve of your jaw, fingers stroking the outside of your pants above your cunt. It stuns you, it thrills you, and you’re immediately trying to strategize how to get your hands inside his pants. He pats you softly and it’s not enough friction, so you push your hips towards him, fingers trying to loosen his belt. He grabs your wrist, and you look up at him. He’s staring at you differently, intensely, like he wants to pull you apart and put you back together. You gulp, and then he snakes his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants, down to the seam of your cunt. The pads of his fingers are calloused, and you bite down on your tongue as he strokes over your clit. Your body explodes with tiny little shocks, and you whimper, your lips pressing to the outside of the cloth stretched across his face. “You’re wet.” His voice is rough. “Y-yeah.” You stutter. “That’s what happens.” He growls. “Your mouth” he thrusts a finger upwards inside you, forcing you to gasp. “is annoying.” You lean your head back against the wall give him an open-mouthed smirk. “So shut me up then.” His head tilts, and something dark flashes across his eyes. You grin.

He’s got your pants down around your ankles, your face pressed against the cool stone of the wall, and a hand up your shirt, fingers twisting one of your nipples as the other swirls the head of his cock through your wetness.

“Fuck.” He growls above your ear, his cock breaching you, pushing steadily against your walls, slowly tearing you apart. Your cunt clenches around him, the burn of the stretch too good, and too much at the same time. His shoulders bear over yours, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

“Ghost.” You whine, palms slapped against the wall. His free hand moves to cover your mouth.

“Hush. You can take it. Hold still.” You freeze because, well, Simon says. You shriek against his hand as his cock pushes into your cervix. He’s so big. It hurts. It feels so good. He thrusts, dragging his cock down and then up, over and over until you’re a teary mess, grunts and whimpers slipping out between the lips you’re trying to keep closed. He pauses, fingertips lightly brushing over where gauze is still wrapped around your body. “Good?” he whispers above your ear, and you nod frantically.

So good. Too good. Don’t stop.

He fucks into you slowly, working you open with a patience that surprises you. His breathing is harsh and unsteady, one arm bracing against you to hold your body in place, the other pressing against your cunt, his fingers finding your clit with ease. It’s too much, and your body jolts backwards, nestling your ass deeper in waiting space between his hips. He holds your there, rubbing circles around your clit and sliding his cock in and out of you, the sounds your bodies are making together probably way too loud considering the team is sitting just downstairs. His hand releases your mouth, and you shove your face against the wall, desperate to find some leverage.

His lips press against the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. His lips without the mask. Your eyes widen as you make the realization, your brain putting it together as you feel his teeth nibble into you, lips sucking blood to the surface of your pores so he can mark you. You can’t turn your head to look, and even if you wanted to, you don’t think you would. He doesn’t even know your name. He groans into your skin, the feeling of his unmasked jaw pressing against you is something you’re going to be holding onto long after Belize. He strokes your clit, pushing and pulling your body towards an orgasm, your walls clenching down on him as he ruts against you.

“F-fuck, Sass. That’s it, good girl, that’s it. Come for me.” The praise electrifies you, and then you explode into a white-hot orgasm, coming with him lodged deep inside of you, his arm holding your twitching body against his. He fucks you through it, steadily, rushing after his own release, and he presses his nose into your hair as he whispers something unintelligible. Your orgasm is still lingering, every one of your nerves alive and on fire, and you’re a whimpering mess against him. The floor creaks under the steady movement of his hips, his body working yours relentlessly as he thrusts up into you until he’s coming, filling you up, shaking with your call sign on his lips.

“So, you gonna let me see your face now?” you’re sitting out back on a half stack of bricks, passing a beer back and forth. He turns every time to adjust the mask when it’s his turn for a sip.

“You gonna tell me your name?” you chew on your lip, and he nods, handing the bottle back to you as he stands. “I don’t need your name Sass. I’ve already got you.” His fingers stroke through your hair, the touch soothing and sweet, and you find yourself speechless.

“You don’t have me.” You rebuff him indignantly.

“That so? We’ll see.” He leaves you sitting outside with the beer, eyes staring daggers at his retreating back. It’s a different thing, to be had, to be known, in a world like this. You don’t know if you can do it. You don’t know if he can either. You glance through the screen door into the back of the house, where he stands leaned against a counter talking to Soap. His head tilts, and he finds you with that same gaze, the one he gave you when he had himself buried in your cunt. You shiver.

Okay, Ghost. I got you.

I’ve already got you.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #ghost cod #peaches writes #clearly i have a problem #female reader #sassy series

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hollandsangel · 2 years

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perfect | s. harrington

my first steve fic!! he is so dear to me 🫶

mei ( @ddejavvu ) helped me brainstorm this, so thank you lovie <3 (you should literally see our dms lol)

summary: steve thinks you’re perfect

warnings: nothing much!! talk of boobs and thighs and stuff but nothing sexual!! steve being dramatic

wc: 1.2k

this is my favourite gif if steve ever. amen. (gif creds to theedorksinlove)

“i swear to god, if one more person takes out sixteen candles, i’m going back to scoops,” robin sighs, a little exasperated as she plucks the film from the stack of tapes and slides it back into its rightful place on the shelf. you just roll your eyes at your friend's theatrics, legs kicking out from your spot on the countertop.

it’s dark outside now, considering it’s nearing ten pm. the moody lighting of the street lamps on the parking lot reminds you that family video will be closed for the night in another fifteen minutes, and you’ll be able to sidle into steve’s car and head home. steve’s on the phone now, trying to talk a customer through the return process and giving a gratuitous apology when they complain about not having enjoyed their movie. he’s been pacing behind the desk for ten minutes, getting himself tangled in the phone cord. you reach forward and grab his elbow with one hand and the cord in the other, dragging him about until he’s freed.

“you know, i actually think i could go for a little micheal schoelffling right about now,” you speak up, spinning around so your legs dangle over the front of the desk rather than inside. robin shoots you a glare and you just toss her a teasing grin back, hopping off the counter and turning to catch a glance at steve whose brow is creased in frustration.

“yes sir, we’d be happy to help you pick out a new movie tomorrow. yes. yes, we open at 9 am sir.” he sighs and rubs at his forehead. you catch his eye and give him a small, sympathetic pout. “have a good night, bye now.” the phone finally makes its way back to the receiver, and your boyfriend lets out the biggest groan, mixed with a sigh as it releases from his chest.

you lean over the countertop and smooth your thumb between his brows, correcting the wrinkle that had resided there, “tough customer?” you ask. steve drops his head between his shoulders, elbows braced on the sticky surface.

“tell robin she has to answer the phone from now on,” he hasn’t looked up yet.

you snicker and muss your hand through his hair, making him slump fully onto folded arms.

“i heard that,” robin says, standing from her crouched position and dusting off her thighs mid-step on her way back to the two of you.

your hand is still placed gingerly on the back of steve’s skull, fingers timidly working at his scalp, “you guys need any help closing?” you ask. steve makes a non-committal sound and robin swats his arm.

“tell your girlfriend she doesn’t work here,” she says and steve springs up, hair flopping into his eyes and landing on his head messily. he doesn’t even look at robin, you’re already in his line of view with half a smirk on the side of your mouth.

“baby, you don’t work here,” he says it all too quickly like there are no spaces between the words, “just sit pretty,” steve says, giving you a sickeningly sweet smile. you roll your eyes like it’s a full response.

before you get a chance to actually say anything, robin pokes at steve’s shoulder and he winces softly. “what’s this?” she asks. steve straightens out and looks where she’s pointing, a little red mark peeking out from the cuff of his polo. “did dustin punch you or something?” she tries to answer her own question, and before steve can stop her, she’s lifting the material. slowly, you register what is about to happen.

“ew, dude, why do you have bite marks on your shoulders– y/n was that you?” she looks mortified but she’s also grinning. nothing brings robin buckley more joy than absolutely badgering you and steve.

you look at steve with a “how are we supposed to deny this?” look to which he just stares back, pushing away and standing fully to walk away. but not before muttering, “you should see her thighs,” under his breath.

you choke on nothing.

robin though, barks out a laugh, poking steve at the top of his spine before he gets too far away. “don’t you worry stevie, i have,” she taunts, leaning back against the counter with a smug smirk.

steve is halfway to the horror section when he stops dead in his tracks. “you what?” he spins on his heel, “why have you seen my girlfriend’s thighs???”

you drum your palms on the counter and move away, “this is my cue to leave…” you say to no one in particular, ready to run for the door.

“hey! y/n/n–what are you– baby come back!” steve makes a small advancement towards you, hand waving in the air, even if the cash desk stands between the two of you.

you and robin make eye contact and snicker at the panic in his voice. she nods her chin towards him, “what? you jealous, stevie?”

“what?” steve starts, one hip jutted out and arms folded over his chest, “have you seen her boobs too?”

neither of you speaks, only share a guilty glance.

“oh you have got to be kidding me!! why? why have you seen my girlfriend's boobs?” he is actually exasperated. aghast.

“what?” you cry out defensively, dropping your eyes from his and shrugging your shoulders, “that’s just what girls do,” you explain, shooting robin a look that cries ‘help me!!’

“yeah,” robin stutters, eyes going wide and face blooming with amusement at steve’s distress, “sleepover stuff, no biggie,” she shrugs it off.

steve’s eyes are still huge and his mouth keeps forming around words but he can’t seem to speak them. you can’t help but swell affection for how dramatic he is.

“what! i just..” you sigh, shoulders falling from their tensed position near your jaw, “i wanted to make sure they were…you know…okay,” steve picks up on your sudden shyness, how your eyes cast downward and you seem slightly embarrassed.

“you…you–you–you wanted to make sure your tits were okay before i saw them??”

robin feels like she’s intruding and starts to slowly back away from the scene before her, barely catching your evasive shrug.

“no one’s ever seen them before…i dunno,” and then steve really softens, sees the insecurity seeping into your posture and your tone, just loud enough for him to hear.

“you wha–!” he cuts himself off, shaking his hysterics away with a sigh and dropping his crossed arms. he walks over to you, tapping your hip before gripping them both and lifting you onto the counter again, hands smoothing up your thighs that are no doubt marked up beneath the denim of your levi’s. “baby,” he starts lowly, ducking down so you’ll look in his eyes, “sweetheart, your tits are perfect,” he says it so earnestly and you can’t help but giggle, even if you can hear robin gag over steve’s shoulder. you laugh again when he rolls his eyes and leans up to kiss you. “you’re still coming to mine tonight right?”

“yeah,” you’re still smiling softly when you say it, just above a whisper.

“steven i swear to god, you help me close, then you guys can go..bone or whatever,” robin interjects, garbage bag in hand.

steve reaches beside you, sly smirk still on his face as he rummages through a drawer for the keys to the front door, “i’ll lock up rob,” he surges forward and presses a little peck to your mouth, drumming his fingers on your thighs before pulling away to lock the front doors.

robin is still standing in front of you, still gripping the black bag to take out the back door. “you guys are disgusting.”

tags! @ddejavvu @pastelbabygirl19

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington fanfic

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themochiverse · 1 year

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The Monster in the Dark | JJK

Banner credits go to the talented @gfxstdio

➳Pairing: yandere!sleep paralysisdemon!jjk X fem!Reader

➳Genre: Yandere, Angst, Horror

➳Warnings: Yandere themes, horror cuz its scary, sorta supernatural stuff happening? Sleep paralysis [like a ton of episodes], scary shit- Jungkook is a horrific menace, swearing, lots of whispering, unknown deep voices, creepy shadows, mental manipulation, NON-CON kissing, NON-CON touching (Nothing sexual happens), choking, suffocation, assumption of death, mentions of death, attempted murder, threats, medication (Sleeping pills), bruises, emotional breakdown, hallucinations & just monster stuff that monsters do during sleep paralysis 😶‍🌫️

**Note: Sleep Paralysis does not cause death, it's only temporary for a while and not permanent. I have researched beforehand so do not come at me if you think I have stated something wrong also bcz this shit has happened to me, so yeah.

➳Synopsis: Sleep paralysis is a common concern for everyone, but once your episodes start to become more frequent, you meet a horrid monster. A horrid monster who has only come for you to join him in his world. You can't run, you can't hide, but you can only watch whatever the hell is going to happen to you right now.

➳Word Count: 9.6k+

➳Disclaimer: This fanfic is purely from my imagination, I do not intend to harm any Idol or person in any way. Nor sexualising them. Please do not steal any ideas from here, this is all of my work and original work. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR IRL.

The Monster in The Dark ©Copyright -2023- themochiverse

No part of the story can be copied, reproduced, redistributed or transformed into any other form. Meaning no photocopying, recording whether written or electrically. No methods are allowed that uses anything from this fic. This follows in the permitted Copyright Law. All images and videos go to their rightful owners.

A/N: This was sitting in my drafts for a while so here it is, finally. Also I met my demon 😬

A/N 2: Holy shit, this was so hard to write.

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“Shh, you know you can’t scream…”

You breathe laboriously, your muscles start to ache and the nippy air enveloping you makes you want to writhe in your bed. But you can't. Your limbs are frozen, and you are unable to move as if you're stuck in place. You can see your whole room, but you're skeptical about whether or not your eyes were open. Oh god, this was another episode. What was it now? The third time this week?

You try to move a finger or two, but it felt like you were trapped. Your breathing is mute, even if you opened your mouth to utter a single word, it wouldn't come out. You needed to move, it felt so unnatural and dangerously ominous to feel this way. A true feeling of helplessness.

Wake up

You close your eyes, endlessly telling your mind to wake up. Lord no, you needed your body to be attentive, yet your mind was already aware of everything occurring. You had to try harder. You do everything in your ability to move one muscle, just to move one inch so you can be awake properly.

Come on...

You're urging yourself to move any part of your body, whether it be your head, legs, or arms. You just needed to move something to get out of this horrid episode.

Just before you’re able to move the tip of your fingers, you catch the sound of your bedroom door, it deliberately creaks open and a lanky, jet-black shadow stands there. It whispers things you can’t discern, and a ring fills your ear like a bomb that has been blasted, the silence crawls in your skin tenaciously, and your breathing gets abrupt. You can see the silhouette appearing closer, you can feel it. Then, with one last impulse, you’re able to move your fingers that soon form into a fist as you wake up.

You come around alive, and not paralysed. You unhurriedly, start to shift your hands and legs, and you feel relieved. You sit up, body angling to the bedroom door as your perpetual breath could be heeded. This was your first encounter of witnessing a shadow, not any ordinary shadow, a sleep paralysis shadow.

Though luckily it hadn’t come excessively close to you, it intimidated you. Its imminent figure just gawking you suffer in cessation was so unforgiving and memorable about how these merciless things were just here to give their victims a slight push to the edge. To let them know, that in the real world no one could stop them. No one.

You could hear the faded chirps of birds, your room was slightly dingy but some light eluded through the curtains, suggesting it was early morning.

As much as you would love to sleep more on a weekend, you decide to get ready for the day since you also had to attend a breakfast party, personally invited by your ex-best friend Seulgi. She had been nagging you all week to stay free just so you both could have some breakfast together. It wasn’t at her house though, it was at some café. It also wasn’t just so you guys ‘could have breakfast together’ it was to catch up after not seeing each other for a while.

When you go to the bathroom to get fresh and wear your clothes, Seulgi starts texting you to come over soon.

Seulgi 👑 8:37am

Hey Y/N, come soon, I’m already here.

You 8:38am

Yeah, I’m just getting ready, send me the address again? [seen]

Seulgi 👑 8:38 am

12 Burrow Street (Café Triton)

You 8:39 am

Thx, coming soon bae [seen]

You drop your phone onto your bed, your hands finding their way into your brushed hair. You can’t stop thinking about it, you can’t stop thinking about the shadow that was just there, gawking at you. It’s not real though, it’s just part of human imagination. Well, that’s what the experts say. Ignoring your repetitive thoughts, you grab your things and leave to meet Seulgi at the café.

The warm breeze unravels on your shoulders, the day nice and bright for any event. You drove by peaceful streets as the sun gushed its tenderness everywhere. You soon stop by the café Seulgi was at, eyes prowling for a parking spot. Damn, it was hella busy today, you reckoned.

As you were glimpsing for a spot, your thoughts lingered on Seulgi. You were best friends since freshmen year, having the heaviest bond any best friend would have. You both used to take it easy all the time, conversing past midnight, and sneaking out to parties. Gosh, those times were gorgeous, but as time flew your friendship promises were long gone, and the division of moving away to another whole country shattered your bond.

The impression of meeting her after so long carves you doubt the relationship you two have now. Your hands squeeze the steering wheel, knuckles turning white when you hesitate to turn around and go back home. Yet, it would be so insensitive and overwhelming to just leave like this.

“Fuck it,” you mumble as you turn the key to turn off the engine. Clutching your purse you slam the car door, making your way over to the café. When you strut towards the quiet shop, you instantly recognise the long, silky black hair.

Resting on top of her hair was a red beret, at first it looked like a cherry but a squashed one with its stem just sprouting out again. The accessory matched with her red coat, all buttons unbuttoned revealing her black checkered top. A black skirt hugged her legs, flimsy edges falling onto her knees.

Seulgi

There she was, reclining outside, absorbing the breeze that was dancing away. You stood there as still as a statue, interesting thoughts consumed that no non-living thing would have. You breathe in and out like you've run a marathon and just came last place. Honestly, you weren't much the athletic type.

Your heels clack against the wonky road when you cross, and once Seulgi obtains your attention, you wave at her like you waving at a small child who came running to you.

This was so stupid.

You come up to her foreseeing a hug, after all, it's been more than 4 years. But, the girl just sits there, expecting you to not be that friendly. You sit on your seat, hands clasped on your lap. Seulgi gapes at you, and you stare back. It's been 4 years since you've met face-to-face, and talking to her now? It felt awkwardly problematic.

She analyzed you up and down, and the insides of your stomach churned in a growling matter. You squint a bit out of irritation, but you weren't sure if it was for the pang or if you were ravenous.

The breeze whirled past your ear, whispers humming away in the wind. You sit upright, ready to strike it all to start the conversation.

"I-"

"I've missed you!" Seulgi exclaims, scooting closer to the coffee table. "You have no idea how right you were Y/N, I was such an idiot for leaving you!" The words slowly start to cure the hole in your heart, her words were medicine to you as they filled you up with infinite happiness.

She suddenly clasps your hands, squeezing them when she mutters the next words.

"Please forgive me, I should have never left a friend like you." Your eyes glistened with tears, the way she said it, with passion and honesty, you finally felt that your best friend was here. Even after all the unpromising events, Seulgi finally realised her mistakes, and she accepted her wrongdoing.

You went in to pull in a hug but that all shattered when a hand waved at your face.

"Y/N? Hello, are you even here?" The tone was what made you snap out of everything. Fuck, what the fuck were you doing?

The hand continues to wave at you when you stop it from moving any further. Seulgi snatches her hand away, exasperating a loud purposeful sigh.

“I was asking how you were?” Seulgi raises an eyebrow as she fixes her beret.

“Good, I’ve been good, you?”

“Better, actually,” she suppresses a smile before nodding her head gently.

“So how are things going at-”

“Shall we order first? I’ve been waiting for a while and I’m hungry.” Her cutting you off startled you a bit, but you complied.

“O-oh, yeah sure.” Her manicured nails grip the menu on the wooden table, her eyes skimming past numerous types of breakfast options. You do the same, looking for something light and enjoyable. Aha, two buttered croissants, a side of fresh strawberries and a cappuccino coffee sounded nice.

“Have you picked?” Seulgi questions, neatly putting the menu away.

“Yeah I have, how about you?”

“I decided the minute I touched the menu,” she sighs again, almost sounding annoyed. You nearly frown, but you hide it when she glances at you and calls for the waiter.

“I’ll pay by the way, I don’t want to hear it from you.”

“What do you mean? It’s been years Seulgi, at least let me do something.” Seulgi rolls her eyes in response, before turning to you again.

“Y/N, please don’t pay, let me do it.” She emphasised the ‘me’, her tone was like a volcano erupting. You scoff, moving closer to the table.

“Why? Is it because you think I can’t pay for the both of us?”

“Y/N, I thought we talked about this.”

“Seulgi, what is up with you? You decide to invite me for some breakfast after not seeing each other for more than four fucking years and you’re not willing to let me pay?”

“It’s not that, I just thought it would be better if I did it, and stop overreacting for god sake.”

“I’m not overreacting, you left me Seulgi, you practically left me to save your huge ass ego.” You nearly jump at her, people walking by side eye you both.

"Y/N, not here." She growls, avoiding the looks people were passing by.

“Y/N, you need to understand that I had to do it-“

“Here you go with the same excuse again, why did we even meet up in the first place?” And there goes the deafening silence, and you knew you hit the bell this time.

“Yes, you're right, why did we even meet when we both knew there wasn't going to be a happy ending?” The words rattle your heart and it felt like a mini earthquake was going on in there.

How could she just say that? How could she just expect everything to go normal after she left you during your most difficult time? When she knew everything beforehand, she just decided to leave you and move on with her own life. You didn’t even know back then that she had gone until her parents told you where she had went. It nearly broke your heart, like a nail being hammered repeatedly.

“You’re still taking those pills, aren’t you? That’s why you’re acting like this.” You momentarily freeze, eyes widening in shock and disbelief.

“What the fuck Seulgi? I stopped taking them fucking months ago.”

“Then why are you acting like this? Why-“

“Why are YOU acting as if everything was going to be normal when we met up?” Seulgi opens her mouth again but you don’t let her talk.

“You’re doing this to show your other friends, isn’t it? To show that you miss your dearest best friend and that you’re such a kind soul to be with.”

“Fuck, Seulgi I've seen your posts, you’re just doing this to show them, I'm not that stupid.” Your voice cracks when your own words hit you like a truck. This was really stupid. You get up to leave, not wanting Seulgi to see your warm tears trickle down your cheeks. The chair screeches when you prepare to walk away, a hand grasps your arm.

"Y/N, listen I am so so so sorry, but you have to believe me please. I swear it's not for them, I am sorry for leaving you, I am sorry for being so rude to you, I am so sorry that I was not being the best friend I was meant to be." The words shake your heart even further, it was too late, you can't accept the apology when she might just do the same thing again.

Should you? Or, should you not?

It was a risky decision, but was it going to be worth it? Was she just apologising because people were staring at the commotion? Or was it truly coming from her? The real Seulgi?

"I'm sorry." And with that said, you leave, her hand slipping away. You've taken so many decisions in life, but you never had thought of making this one.

You reach the parking lot, hands fumbling to find the keys. The door snaps and silence hits the air again, the replay of her apologising was giving you a headache. You were not prepared for god's sake, why did you come? The emotions start to pour out of nowhere, and your eyes start to become red, brimmed with water. Out of nowhere, you bite your fist, teeth digging into your skin leaving prints of faint, red marks.

You should have just gone back to bed.

"Shit, why did she even want to meet up if she was gonna behave like some stuck-up bitch?" The disgusted tone rolled off your sister's tongue, venom spitting out as she scrunched her eyebrows in anger. You were sitting on a stool, legs crossed in comfort as you murmured, "I don't know."

The abrupt argument with Seulgi lingered in your mind, and you had decided to drive to your sister's place. To knock it off and forget it ever even happened.

"What else did she say?" Your sister takes a seat across from you, sitting down to hear you out, to listen. Your brain processes the devastating event, finally ticking at the comment that made you fire up.

"The pills- she was talking about the pills." The gasp was almost silent but audible enough to hear it come from your sister's mouth. The shocked expression could relate though.

Months ago, after sleepless nights of doing work, late shifts, and too many 'outgoings' you were fed up with the tiredness your body was composing every day. No matter how hard you tried to shut your eyes, listening to music that did not help you sleep made you confused and frustrated. That was when you started taking sleeping pills. You heard a lot about them, how great they were when you were having restless nights.

When you bought it one night, it kicked in within thirty minutes and you were snoozing into a deep slumber you hadn't had for ages. You took a couple more for the following days and you've never felt better before.

Wrong. You were just simply wrong.

You've had sleep paralysis before, it was on rare occasions, however. It would happen to you at least once a month before you experienced another after more months passed by. But then, one night you did not take the pills, worrying it would affect your health if you over-dosed yourself.

You were concerned about this since a week ago, you were extremely tired at work all of a sudden, accidentally falling asleep during your working hours. Your boss had made an unnecessary commotion in front of everyone, and you were humiliated, and embarrassed. During that day, before the drama had risen, you were acting irrational and grumpy. Your mood jumped from side to side, like a character not being aware of themselves. That was why you had stopped taking them.

Though, during the starry night as grey clouds consumed the moon, the paralysis itself decided to try you out. In other words, to make you a paralysed human, to see during the frightening experience and see the after-effects.

You were prepared to sleep, shuffling on your bed to get a perfectly comfortable position. Surprisingly, after forty minutes or so, you fell asleep. You actually fell asleep. Two hours later, you suddenly wake up, eyes groggily getting used to your surroundings in the dark, only to be lit up by a night lamp. You had this sudden sick feeling, and then you really felt it.

At first, you thought it was a nightmare, and that you would simply wake up, but the twisted feeling in your gut proved it real. It was as if the shock had run through you and you were frozen out of fear. Out of exhaustion. Out of lack of sleep.

Of course, your friend sleep paralysis had come over to visit.

Normally, you would try anything to get you to possibly move, yet sometimes you would just close your eyes and wait for it to go away, knowing it would last for a couple of minutes. But for some reason, you were scared, it felt different to you somehow.

It was not numbness as people who hadn't experienced it before thought, it was like being stuck to cement and no one could help you. No one would hear your screams or cries, only your heavy breathing was the source of your being alive.

The feeling had disappeared within three minutes or so, and you were able to move in pleasure. But, that one episode, definitely felt much different than before.

"You should get some rest." Your sister said, grabbing the car keys that were on the kitchen counter.

"Gonna get some food, and I'll talk to you about it later." She accidentally gives a look of concern, waving the keys around in her hands before heading out. Once she left, you sat on the couch, propping yourself comfortably. You grabbed the tv-remote, flicking through the channels.

Nothing really interesting.

You let out an exasperated sigh, staying on a cartoon channel, displayed for younger kids. You lie down primarily, just watching and thinking, watching and.. thinking. Was there even anything better to do?

"I am so sorry that I was not being the best friend I was meant to be."

You squeeze yourself momentarily when you recall the words. It was a rollercoaster just meeting her. The girl who broke your heart, and now you did not know how to seal the crack and let it heal. Was it the right choice you made? Not accepting the apology, and waiting for the foreseeable future? There was a growing ache that travelled everywhere in your body, and it hurt so much that you closed your eyes and breathed.

Gosh, you weren't able to breathe freely today.

Your loud breaths were soon tranquil snores, and the atmosphere around you vanished.

You were at a café, sipping on some hot cocoa with pink and white marshmallows on top, whipped cream melting into the hot beverage. There were muffled sounds but it was quiet. Peaceful enough for you to fall asleep on the spot.

Cars were roving around but there was no sound except for the light breeze that sang melodiously your way. It was relaxing and soothing, and it was getting the best of you. A music note flew your way and a tune was playing not too far from you. A white glowing figure stood there, dancing slowly to the music as well.

You think of joining them, leaving the hot cocoa on the table, the soft marshmallows fading away in the drink. As you sauntered towards them, the tune was more rackety now, more audibly visible. You take small steps, registering them carefully as you approach the person. The glow on them, however, dwindles away. When they pivot, the words screech into your ears.

"I am so sorry that I was not being the best friend I was meant to be."

Your eyes shot open from the terrible dream you had. You realised the tv was still on, but there was no audio. Only the clock ticking every second was heard.

Oh fuck, it’s happening again.

Your mouth shapes an ‘o’ form as you try to speak out something. Anything. But frivolity comes out, your voice had been held up like from the Disney Movie, Little Mermaid. You were entirely attached in one position, head facing the awning as one of your arms droops off the settee. The curtains were drawn, no light escaping this time.

You hear footsteps shuffling, and what was that? A hum?

The footsteps approach closer, and closer, and closer...

Then it halts, and your breathing quickens. God knows what the hell was there, you couldn't even move to see what it was. Something tugs your hair and your heart skips a beat.

And when they show themselves above you try to let out a cry.

A deep giggle fills up the room, its fingers still weaved into your hair.

You’re shushed up quickly when the figure floats around you, analysing you up and down in awe. You gaze at the shadowy, blurry figure, making out its appearance. Black hair and deep black eyes, and its black silhouette. Your eyes widen in realization, the shadow. The figure crouches down to your eye level, its cold fingers tilting your head to the side to face him. Those doe black eyes just peering into your soul like black jewels glistening in the dark and charcoal hair sleek in one position. Smooth skin, and sharp eyebrows. It looked almost, entirely human.

“I'm not an object dear, I can hear your thoughts.” He whispers, head resting on one of his hands. “But I like how you're admiring my physical appearance in a way.” He grimaces, eyes gazing into yours. Holy fuck, this thing can listen to your thoughts?

He traces your face delicately, fingers grazing against your soft skin, your wish to flinch doesn't occur but it makes your heart beat faster within seconds.

The figure notices it, simply drifting away as he hums, “Don’t worry, I won't hurt you.” He won't hurt you, just yet.

"You know, it's a shame that you humans can't speak once we get a hold of you, but you can speak with your mind you know? It saddens me that I can't hear your pretty voice coming from your pretty mouth, but I'll at least be able to listen to your personal thoughts." He laughs again, almost sounding innocent but buried in deep evil.

You don't speak with your mind at all, instead, you close your eyes and tell yourself to wake up. It's just another episode, and now you've probably met your sleep demon. The demon realises what you were doing, his hand hovering above your head as he whispers words you can't comprehend.

You muster up all your strength to move but your eyes snap open when those same words echo in the room.

"I am so sorry that I was not being the best friend I was meant to be."

It repeats again.

"I am so sorry that I was not being the best friend I was meant to be."

But this time, it approaches even more piercingly.

"I am so sorry that I was not being the best friend I was meant to be."

It rings in your ear as a high pitch shrill vibrates, making you lose your mind. As much as you would love to squirm, shutting your eyes and telling yourself to wake up was almost impossible.

Please, stop! Stop it, please! You beg entirely through your mind, eyes looking at the hand that was on your head. He takes his hand away, the sharp shrill disappears and it was all silent again.

"Well, that wasn't so hard was it?" He walks towards the end of the couch, right where your feet were touching. His hands rest by your feet as he admires your feared figure.

Jungkook was loving this so much. He loved how your heart would quiver at his touch, the shaky breaths you took as he circled around you. He would love it even more once you were his.

Poor thing, you still didn't know his name, well, he'll tell you soon. Jungkook watches you trying to close your eyes again, doing those stupid things that were apparently supposed to help you out of an episode.

Honestly, humans were so funny to him.

But you were more of a delight.

"You know, nothing will get you out of this episode, as long as nothing interrupts us." His giggle comes out soft, as if it were bouncing on clouds in the sky, except it was light rainfall just pattering down.

This was entirely fucked up.

"You know, I'm kinda getting bored just staring at you like this." Jungkook drifts away, merely vanishing within a second, "I wanna hear your thoughts, so let's have some fun shall we?"

Wake up or panic?

You chose panic.

The room magically turns foggy, thick and misty. Your eyes scatter around the room, literally just to find the weird almost human looking demon. You hear the clock ticking again, dead silent.

"Boo." You don't know whether if your heart exploded into a million pieces or it jumped out of your chest because the next movements created a real frightening mood.

Your head is turned to face the pillows resting in front of you, and warm fingers graze against the skin of your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and then soon to your neck. They rest there for a couple of seconds before giving a light squeeze, and Jungkook hums out of satisfaction.

A hot whisper thrums in your ear, "I want you to listen what I'm going to say to you Y/N, focus carefully."

You could hear his next words, this time your heart thumping out of your chest, "Feel my hands touching your collarbone, just gliding my fingers across your gorgeous skin."

"Feel how they move down to your chest, to your arms, to your stomach."

"I want you to feel how my hands smooth across your legs, up and down in motion, slowly."

"And watch how my hands grab at your neck, tightly." Jungook's hands practically fly towards your neck, as he uses this opportunity to turn you to him, his eyes trail your pale face, happy that you were on the verge of tears.

Satisfaction.

"Do they feel nice around your neck? Tight enough to get no breath out of you?" His fingers dig into your neck, red imprints arising from the pain. Blood rushes, and your head starts to pound. You can feel your heart beating faster and faster, your lungs trying to give out as much as oxygen it can. You can't move, you can't fight him at all.

"You see human, you're very weak in this state, so alone and afraid, pathetic."

None of this is real, it can't be.

"Tell me now, is it your desire to wish that the 'little disturbance' you're experiencing right now not real?" His laugh ruptures through the room, his eyes turning dark when his grasp on you gets immense.

"I'll prove to you what's real or not."

A large crash bounces off the corner of your ear, followed by a loud slam. You awake, muscles and fingers, your entire body finally able to move. You roll off the couch, breathing.

That fucker is gone.

"Y/N?" You look to find your sister at the door, a confused expression all over her face. She held up a bag that smelt of fresh food and you get up, pretending that you just fell by accident.

"Aren't we gonna eat?" You question her as you stroll to the dining table.

"Holy fuck, Y/N, what the fuck happened to you?"

Your sister practically drops the food on the table and rushes towards you, her hands carefully touching your neck.

You hiss in pain. Pain?

Your eyes widen in realisation as you run to the bathroom, the mirror reflecting and revealing the bright red marks left on your neck. Those hands that had been wrapped around your neck left light bruises, and tiny, not too deep cuts were everywhere.

Every time, a light feathery touch to your neck was felt, all you could do was wince in agony.

"I'll prove to you what's real or not."

This truly cannot be real, if you cannot comprehend it in your mind then surely, it is not true. You know what? You're probably having those dream loops right now. You're just dreaming, in another dream in which you had faced another terrible dream.

"Y/N, what the hell?!" Your sister yells from afar, and you almost jump at her voice.

"What?" You question, leaving the bathroom, you find her staggered as she pointed at something to the ground.

"Did you do this to yourself, Y/N?"

"Do what?"

"Did you seriously shatter my vase, and fucking cut yourself?"

Your eyes squint, and your eyebrows scrunch in incredulity, how could she blame you like that?

"Listen, I did not do it. I don't fucking know how the vase br-"

The crash. No way...

"Yeah, as if it totally just fell by itself." Your sister shoves past you, snatching a broom to clean up the mess. While the glass clinks against each other, your sister sighs.

"Look...Y/N, I know things haven't been going great for you lately, but you shouldn't use these situations as an excuse to hurt yourself." She says the last words softly, grunting as she stood up.

"I didn't cut myself, I swear, it was just-" You hesitate momentarily, she would not believe you now, would she?

"Just what?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Hit me up."

"It's just that, I- you know how I get those sleep paralysis episodes? I had one early today morning, and I saw a shadow standing at my bedroom door, that fucking creeped me out and now, I encountered my demon, Y/S/N, it was choking me."

The sigh that comes from her mouth explains it all.

“Y/N, we know they're not real, it’s just a hallucination.”

“It’s real! The fucking thing broke your vase, and it was strangling me so fucking hard that its fucking nails did this.” You point at your neck frustratingly, but honestly who would believe you?

“We should eat.” That is what your sister replies, disappearing into the kitchen. Your shoulders droop as you slump on the couch, pain inching further and further when you move your neck a little. You had no energy to argue with her, everyone knows that the scenarios you witness in sleep paralysis are not real.

But you knew this one was.

After a little convincing to stay over the night, you quickly drove back to your home, grabbing some clothes and your toothbrush. There was no message left from Seulgi, after the chaotic public arguing. Looks like you did make the right decision.

You re-counter the horrifying nightmare you had faced, the human-looking creature who was nearly about to kill you triggered your brain of the thought. You felt so weak, so desperate for help that all your focus to somehow manage to get out of the episode fell onto being alive… and not supposedly dead.

The marks that were scathed on your neck were now small bruises, pampered all over. Your sister had treated it, but every time you tried to mention the episode, she would ignore you and change the topic for both of your sakes. It made you feel stupid and delusional. Even if you had gone to see a doctor they would repeat the usual things.

Fix your sleep schedule

Try to regularly get 6 to 8 hours of sleep a day

Get regular exercise

And so on.

Dusk hits, and the night starts to settle in. Grey clouds block the crescent moon which hung at the sky, as you enter your sister's home. You stroll around the kitchen only to find a sticky note stuck to the fridge.

Dinner is in the fridge, gone to get some work stuff.

Time starts to pass as you do things that wouldn't make you bored.

You were scrolling through your phone, reading articles of mysteries and wonder but your eyes fall upon the big, bold, capitalised letters presenting: 'HOW I RECOVERED FROM SLEEP PARALYSIS'

Instantly interested you click on the article and start reading it. You were looking for some tips and ideas, just in case it happened to you again.

'First tip as usual: Don't sleep on your back in a straight position'

'...I had sleep paralysis before but it started to become frequent over the past few weeks.'

'...I knew there was sleep paralysis demons but I never interfered with one.'

'...And then it was there, a creepy lookin' shadow that just peeked through the doors of my wardrobe.'

'...I wasn't havin' sleep paralysis that night but I thought I was dreamin' but my cat was with me, and he started hissin' at the wardrobe.'

'...This thing had red eyes, and long scaly fingers that were at least 10 centimeters.'

'...It used to whisper stuff I couldn't understand, but it always said its name: Cybil.'

'...I didn't do the hippy stuff at the beginning but then I thought of following them, you know? So I started to exercise, fixin' my sleep schedule and basically made it a routine.'

'... And it was a miracle because it stopped comin'. I had no demons snickerin' and scarin' the sh** out of me now. I tell you to follow this hippy stuff because it actually worked.'

You shudder at the feeling knowing such a unreal creature could torture a human so much in their sleep. But it was the same thing over and over again. You start to remember the cold fingers that landed on your neck, the charming devil that was smiling all the way while you were on the verge of death.

You shook yourself vigorously and drew out a heavy breath. Anxiety started to creep in and you were suddenly aware of your surroundings. A vile feeling in your stomach was created and you couldn't help but wonder if that thing was watching you right now.

Would it stare at you if you were sleeping?

Planning to do something to you again?

Or was it just here to make your life a living hell?

Most importantly, could it kill you?

You hugged your knees, the caps hitting your chest as you rocked gently and started humming to yourself. You prayed that the paralysis wouldn't happen tonight, especially after having such a horrific encounter with him.

Jungkook sat in his own little space, black shadows whispering all around him, ghastly words that could send a shiver down your spine. The invisible force that held the others back made them shriek with each hit they took to break it down.

"What is he doing?!" They hissed, anger fumed in their corrupted souls, evil leaking with each word they spoke. Their misdeeds were the only thing that kept them alive.

"He's hogging the room." One said, their faint long nails stained the invisible force, all of them slowly calming down.

"Why?"

"What else do you think? He's doing it for a mere h-human." The shadow's voice drew out deep, sounding disgusted with the term. The rest gagged at the intention Jungkook displayed.

"Our energy is getting wasted, we're hungry, let us in you fucking dog!"

The force vanished, and all of the dark demons whirled at Jungkook, but something had stopped them. Jungkook stood as his hand glowed a black aura, it sparkled with sin. Their eyes grew wide, hunger devouring their wicked souls.

Oh god, Jungkook loved toying with them. He loved it.

"Look at you miserable demons, hungry hustlers ready to enjoy fear?" The aura grew even bigger in his hands as the demons' eyes turned pure black, their whispers chanting for food.

"Go get it."

The aura flew into the air and, all of the shadows cried for it as they ran. They bit, scram, swore, and yelled (even causing fixable injuries), desperate for the fear they were wishing to taste.

Jungkook chuckled as his eyes followed the drawn circle in front of him. It was as clear as night, (well in his saying), you slept so peacefully. He could hear your tranquil snores and your tired mind. The fear that was stuck to you was strong, incredibly strong for him to not hold back.

He thought he would feel bad after your first meeting with him went wrong. No, actually right. Because Jungkook didn't feel bad at all, but more excited. He chose the perfect person to coquet around with, to suck in some distress here and there. He found you.

When his hands touched your skin, it ignited a fire within him. Something he hadn't felt in a while. It was a sign that you were the one, the one for him. The reminder of his shadow watching you from your bedroom doorway, and your little panicked breaths made him smile.

You looked so adorable while being scared.

Every time your heartbeat raced, his did too. He would inhale your intoxicating scent, which drove him mad as he was anguished to devour some of your fear.

Exhilaration got to the best of him, and he swore he could never get tired of the fear that you released. He was blessed to frighten you, oh what luck he had in his hands. Jungkook never meant to go overboard last night, but how could he control it?

"Jungkook..."

His eyes snapped to him, black irises filled once again.

"What?"

The demon in front of him licked his black sinned lips clean, some of the aurae still dripping down his chin. He smiled wickedly before proceeding to speak.

"You don't mind sharing do you?" He looks over Jungkook, glee spread across his face.

"Fuck off."

"Yes? The last time I checked, you were the one who made the rule to share amongst our.. friends."

"Cybil, you're getting on my nerves lately, I suggest you to attend your duties."

"Or what? Are you afraid I'm going to scare the shit out of that thing?"

Jungkook growled, his shadow growing with the aura he brought upon.

"I can fucking banish you to the low-level demons, the ones with broken souls and mourning's everyday. Is that what you want Cybil? If it isn't enough for you I can make sure everyone can enjoy their next course meal."

This time Cybil's shadow fattened, as Jungkook's aura started to intimidate him. He spins around, muttering words he would soon regret.

"He should be banished, unwanted, filthy hellhound."

With the snap of his fingers, all of the demons' attention was directed to Cybil. Silence creeps up as all of them peer at him with greedy stares.

"Eat him."

If people who sang high notes could break glass, then the shriek coming from Cybil was a note that would never exist in the real world. The demons sank their teeth into Cybil, biting off his existence. His cries of pain and fear, mixed, drove into the air, while others were shamelessly sucking away.

Jungkook drawled back his attention to you. Tonight, he was going to let you go. But of course, he would come again soon.

Jungkook shook his head as a fear bubble sprouted in front of him. He could hear Cybil's protests, his useless begging. Happily, he quaffs the last bit away. He scoffs at the bitter taste and a deranged smile popped onto his face.

"Filthy hellhound."

It was as if you had faced a miracle.

A restful night and the alarm clock ringing indicated the long hours you had slept so quiescently. You heard how the occurrence of 'sleep demons' usually only comes once or twice, nothing of them too frequent.

The bruises on your neck were now less visible and looked completely normal whenever you moved your neck at a certain angle. Your prayer had been answered and you smiled so wide that your cheeks hurt. You get up to freshen up and meet your sister along the way.

"Hey, got a good sleep?" She asks.

"Yeah, probably the best one yet." You exaggerate as you go to the bathroom.

Goodness, you really were absurd thinking about how these hallucinations could be so real. Now that you hadn't had any demon coming over it made things better for you.

You were waiting for your sister to arrive while you sat on the dining chair, munching on some cereal. She strolls past you and sits on the opposite seat. A sudden hesitant question pops into her mind as she shuffles in her seat uncomfortably.

"Um, Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, how long are you going to stay here?"

You look at her and grin, "I was just hoping today will be the last, if that’s okay?"

"It’s just that I have a business trip to go on tomorrow morning and I won't be here.”

You drop your spoon and the action spilled some milk on the table.

“Oh, when are you going to leave?”

“Early, like eight am?”

“That shouldn't be a problem then, I'll just leave at the same time then."

Your sister nods her head and starts eating her breakfast as well.

You hold your spoon, thinking that maybe you've actually stayed for quite a while, so you ask her.

"Listen, I-I hope I'm not burdening you or anything, you know? Especially after what happened with Seulgi, you're like the only person I have left to be with."

Your sister smiles and she gently puts her hand on top of yours.

"You're not a burden to me Y/N, you're my sister and.. sisters always stick together."

You smile back and continue the morning with laughter and joy.

With a groan, you unkink your back whilst plopping down the suitcase you brought next to your bed. The clock ticks and you just unexpectedly sit in silence. Thoughts consume your mind, like how you were going to go back to your normal life now. Doing your 9-5 shifts, coming home tardily, eating microwaved food- it was just the day-to-day routine.

Your eyes snap to the alarm clock posing on the bedside table, red numbers flickering 00:00. With tired hands you put an alarm on to wake you up in the morning. You sigh in response as you lift yourself onto the bed, pulling the blankets up to your neck as you curl into sleep like a small kitten.

It's dark and quiet, and the lights are out. No late movie nights, no pestering animals, and especially no awake humans.

A soulless noise vibrates from Jungkook’s throat as cold, icy breaths sail into the spacious room. He gapes at the room and does a bit of exploring like looking at the drawers, the windows and of course, under your bed.

He stares at your still, peaceful figure. He can't help but gawk at you in awe, his hands anticipating touching you and feeling your warm skin. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to take you home. He hurriedly backs away from you as he slowly crouches at the foot of your bed, his irises turning pitch black as his hands waver a heavy black haze. His feet float a couple of inches from the floor as he hovers above you and speaks in a deep, startling voice.

But you can't hear it.

You're not in his world, yet.

The mist spreads from his hands, leaving a trail over your sleeping body. It clings to your legs and feet, and your arms but Jungkook stops at your neck.

He reminisces about the moment when he first tried to kill you, how his inhumane fingers attached themselves to your pretty neck and he just wanted to feel your blood pulse through all that pressure. How your fear was nurturing him, providing him with a longer chance of living. You are his. And he's thought everything through, just to get to you, to have you and cherish you forever. You’re his favourite human.

However, today he wanted to hear your voice. It was an unforeseen idea, a rule that mustn’t be broken.

But Jungkook didn't care, he wouldn't get banished or eaten alive. Maybe get a warning at first but by then things will already be smooth when you're there. Just as he was about to snap his fingers, you yank your head roughly in your sleep. Jungkook quickly hides in a corner, stunned by the action at first. He then realises what you were doing.

You kept moving your head back and forth because you felt it. You felt the invisible strings that were consuming your body and you wanted to let go of them. You get up without a word and happen to roll to the other side of the bed. And soon again you're in peace.

Jungkook comes out of his spot, ready to snap his fingers again as he watches the dull mist sink into your gorgeous skin. Jungkook then disappears and watches you from afar, just waiting for you to jolt in your sleep and realise the nightmare that was reliving again.

Time went by and Jungkook was starting to become impatient. He had a choice to go rough and just physically shake you but that would be no fun. He has to take his time with you. He wants it to be a night that will be glued to your memories, something that he would also be fond of.

And then he senses it.

He sees it.

Your eyes snap wide open and the distressed feeling in your gut turns sour and gives your heart a good punch.

You feel that sick feeling again. Your body felt like it was just glued and stuck in cement, or like a dozen chains that were wrapped around you giving you no space to breathe. A feeling of helplessness. You closed your eyes and mentally pushed your body to move. But for some reason tonight, it was impossibly hard. You hated this sensation, a spectacle of fear and anxiety mixed drove you mad.

Is he here? You abruptly pondered.

“He’s here.”

Your eyes visibly shake when you see his tall figure, alluring doe eyes that aren't callow and his face as a mask of an angel but a devil in disguise.

“There’s no need for you to be scared of me, after all, I do apologise for what happened last time.” Jungkook roams around your room as you watch him through your eyes.

Is he truly sorry?

Never, what he did wasn't wrong. It was just part of his nature, surely you would understand that soon.

“I won't play to scare you this time, I promise.” His face is extremely close to yours, and you could feel his chilly breath on your neck. He caresses your face and gives you a small smile.

“You can talk you know? I just really wanted to hear your vocals, I wondered how it would sound like.”

You pry your mouth open and the first word is so croaked that you almost cough.

You had no idea what to say to this strange thing, all you wanted was to get out of another horrible episode and just go home.

The atmosphere screams awkwardness to you, but to Jungkook it was all fear. Just bits and pieces that go straight to him.

You finally manage to say a couple of words,

“What do you want from me?” You whisper, eyes trailing over the demon.

“To take you with me, to my home where we can be happy together. A place where you won't be alone.”

You're shocked, too shocked to even process whatever the hell you were hearing right now.

“And today I'm going to take you and you won't have to stay in your horrible world anymore with your horrible sister and friends.”

You suddenly snap, anger just surging through you. You're just tired, tired of everything that has been happening to you all you wanted was a good night's sleep, nothing more than that.

“Shut up! You’re not real. You're just a sick fucking nightmare and I'm stuck with a thing like you, you fucking son of a bitch just leave me alone!”

You expected to wake up and slap yourself for having such episodes but you didn't. You were still here with him.

The atmosphere becomes too quiet, so quiet that you bet you could hear a pin drop from the other side of the house.

Jungkook continues to stare at you as his eyes narrow a bit. You just added fuel to fire.

“First of all, I'm not a thing, my name is Jungkook. Maybe letting you speak was a mistake but I must say your voice is exhilarating to listen to.”

His mood shifts in a millisecond and then something just so sinister crawls out of his mouth.

“Do you know how I'm going to take you Y/N? Do you still remember how we did our first unjust encounter?”

Him choking you...

“I'm going to ruin the surprise but I'm going to do the same thing to you today. And then you'll be with me forever.”

“No...” You choke out, “stop, just stop and leave me alone...this isn't real, none of it is and you aren't that's for sure.”

“Oh really, Y/N? Do I have to prove to you again that I'm real?” His voice drops octaves lower and it frightens you.

You needed to get out desperately, this was completely deranged. But how? Your sister is asleep and this time Jungkook probably won't break another vase on purpose. Then what could help you?

You suddenly remember Jungkook’s words: “...nothing will get you out of this episode, as long as nothing interrupts us.”

An interruption.

Something that could possibly wake you up as an advantage for this demon to leave you alone. Maybe something loud and a bit heavy or-

The alarm clock. You had set up the alarm clock to wake you at 6 so you would have a heads-up on the time.

Your eyes shoot to the clock and the screen flickers from 5:58 to 5:59 now. Just one more minute and you would be able to get out of another sick interlude.

You don't notice but Jungkook follows your eyes and realises the way they enlarge as if you had a bit of hope left. Because you did have hope.

It doesn't take long for him to grasp your thoughts and all the planning that was whirring the cogs in your sleep- deprived brain. Jungkook titters at you when he calls out to you.

"Oh Y/N, my love, I hope you know whatever you're planning in that little head of yours is not going to work." Your eyes keep scanning between the clock and him.

"Because I know that your final minute is precious to you, but it is precious to me as well."

Jungkook emits a long, audible breath when all your focus is buried on the clock.

"I really wanted to take my time with you Y/N, I really did. But I guess with just a minute to spare-" Jungkook's hands creep toward under your head and you could feel the frigid skin against yours, "I need to kill you."

His hands grip the pillow next to you and a hard smack lands on your face. You can't move your head, your neck, your arms or your legs. You can't move. How can one be any more helpless than this?

You softly shriek and begin to bear the softness of the pillow suffocating you. The breaths you gasp out and swallow become harder to manage, and your body begins to feel hot. The pillow becomes heavier and the demon who's doing this just smiles in glee, black irises and black shadow overpowering your condemned soul.

“Shh…you know you can’t scream.” Your mouth shuts instantly and all you could do was muffle.

You start to detect spots in your vision, your breathing slowing down whilst all the blood that's rushing to you gives Jungkook more of a thrill.

You were soon going to be his.

You were going to belong to him forever.

You're counting on the last seconds of the clock, just hoping it would ring any second now. Every breath you take takes a second away, and you're just praying that something will wake you up right now.

...3

...2

...1

The spots invade your vision, your breathing stops and your eyes lay open with no life left in them.

You heave out aggressively, immediately scrambling away from the bed. You slowly touch your face, fingertips shaking from the experience you just interfered with.

Oh god, it was over. It wasn't real, it was just another episode. You're alive, and you're not with him. You jump out of excitement and relief ready to go to your sister and tell her you were feeling much better.

But she beats you to it.

You weren't aware when your sister walked into your bedroom. She was already dressed in her black suit and white shirt, with her hair up in a neat bun.

"Hey." You hear her voice and turn around to find her sitting on your bed just staring at your pillows.

Silly her, she probably didn't notice you standing in the corner of the bedroom.

"Listen Y/N, first of all I know you're awake," she smiles "but I wanted to apologise to you."

You frown at the comment, and you frown when she still doesn't pay attention to you standing right next to her.

"Hello, I'm right here. Who are you talking to?" You question her, hands waving right at her face. But your sister doesn't move her head to see you, she just continues looking at your empty bed.

"I'm sorry for not talking about what happened with Seulgi, I know so much has happened to you and I feel so guilty for not reassuring you or anything. I was completely wrapped up in my own work that I forgot about you, your situation and the life you were leading."

You instantly smile when she said that, and your heart is finally filled with contentment. Her hands touch something that you don't see, so you rub your eyes and you suddenly feel sick. Your heartbeat races like a runner that you almost drop to the floor.

There on your bed was you.

You were lying down on your bed with a pillow on your face, the blanket all crumpled white your sister rested her hand on your shoulder.

"Um, Y/N, you okay?" Your sister queries as her hands start to push off the pillow.

"Y/N? Hello? Oh my goodness are you-"

She touches your skin, checks your pulse and she felt the unseen frostbites that were stuck on your skin.

You stood frozen when a bloodcurdling scream erupted from your sister's throat, her eyes already stung with tears and her yells were becoming more desperate and louder.

Her voice started to become hoarse and dry, she needed water, but she whimpered and wept next to you, her hands shaking and fiddling with her suit pocket to bring out a phone but it drops to the floor and she does too.

You've never seen your sister like this, never.

You start to feel the wet tears glistening on your cheek and your surroundings turn dull and grey. It becomes incredibly dark but you could still make out your poor sister trembling as she stared at your dead body.

"No..." you whispered to yourself, "n-no, this can't be happening."

This had to be another nightmare, something unforgivable to make you see a distraught scene. You spin around and your eyes jump out of your sockets.

There he was. Standing tall and proud with a stupid smirk on his face as he watched you cry so beautifully. You shook and started to back away from this monster who had tormented you so much.

He crept up to you and your back hit the wall, and your sister and your dead body were no longer here. Instead, you saw a dark room with a silver glow on top of you. Hundreds, no, more like thousands of sleep paralysis demons were whispering and growling as they looked down at you.

You weren't home.

You were dead.

You were with him in his world.

Jungkook stood impossibly close to you and you just wanted to shrink into a little ball and get out of this place.

His hands grasped your chin and his eyes turned yet black again, simply purring as he spoke.

"I told you I would bring you home love."

You stared at the clear ceiling again, peeking at the disgusting creatures. You wondered how many people were disturbed because of them, because of the torments they brought upon their toys.

You trembled under Jungkook’s touch and your will to push him or even fight him withered away. And so you shut your eyes when you felt Jungkook's cold lips on yours.

He finally got you just like how he said and wanted. He hears your thoughts and Jungkook wasn’t going to lie but he does agree with you. He's a monster and so are the others above the both of you, after all, in the end, no matter how cruel or kind, they are monsters in the dark.

#yandere sleep paralysis demon Jungkook x fem!reader #yandere sleep paralysis demon Jungkook #yandere sleep paralysis demon #yandere jungkook #yandere kpop #yandere writing #jungkook x female reader #jungkook smut #yandere oneshot #yandere jungkook x you #The Monster in the Dark

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hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog · 2 months

Note

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

@deans-spinster-witch thank you for this ask. Actually thank you all that submit asks or sent me story prompts, I am going to get to them all, but I thought this one would be a good place to start.

First let me start off with my disclaimers:

1) I haven't see the last few seasons of SPN, so I don't know how they addressed COVID, if they did at all. So think of it as alternative timeline, not really canon.

2) My COVID representation is probably not 100% accurate, either by the reader symptoms or that I don't mention Dean wearing a mask or that he was able to be in the hospital with the reader.

3) I just POV and I think I may have jump from 2nd to 3rd person writing? I did my best to correct it, but sometimes I can't seem to correct it. Also did my best with editing, but I am sure I missed something. Flashbacks are bold italic and internal thoughts are just italic.

4) I am not sure if this is 100% what you were looking for. It does end on a cliffhanger, so I will be posting a second part. It was getting hella long coming in at 7,500 words. 😬 sorry.

5) swearing, hints of past trauma that we may get more in the second part. Self doubt/hate. Angst heavy!

Okay think that's it. It's a Y/N x Dean focus story with Sam making an appearance via phone. Characters are not mine but the work is. So please don't post as your own.

Feel free to like, reblog, send me feedback in the comments. And if you have a story idea, send it my way via asks or message. Or if you want me to tag you on my work let me know.

Okay think I have stalled long enough. Here it is, my first story back from 3 year break.

JUST BREATHE-

"Excuse me, sir, you can't be up here." A female voice, strong, laced with exhaustion, mixes with the sounds of the hospital. Doctors are being paged, staff are going in and out of rooms, and machines are monitoring patients. All of it, white noise, too, Dean. Because he can't look away or tear his eyes from what is in front of him. Y/N is lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator. What happened? How did it come on so strong and so fast? He had just seen you last week when he came through town on his way to his next hunt. Picking up research that you had done for him since Sam was working on another case in California. You were the best…no, are, you are the best researcher he knows…you have to get better; you can't…

"Sir! I will have to ask you to leave if you're not family. The ICU is only for families." The female voce, insistent on getting him to pay attention to her. Tired, she was just so damn tired of no one listing to her today; she had better things to do than police people about.

"How long has she been here?" Dean asks, his voice firm but slightly wavering. He can't look away, watching as the vent goes up and down, breathing for you. Y/N, come on, you have to pull through; I can't lose you, Dean thinks, trying his best not to break. He prayed to God if he thought it would help if he thought the ass would be listing.

"Sir, I can't give that information if you're not family." Dean looks away from you for a moment, noticing the nurse standing beside him. She is dressed in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back, and a mask on. He can tell she is on her last nerve with him, and he has to win her over. He can't leave you, not now. "So, are you family?" she asks again.

"Umm…" He knew he needed to lie. If he told her that you were just a friend, he would never get answers and would never get back to this floor again. It was dumb luck that he could get your room number out of the receptionist downstairs. He pulled himself together to give her his winning smile and wink. "She's my sister." Clearing his throat, he looked back to you.

The nurse looks down at the chart in her hand. "Miss. Moore didn't have a brother listed as next of kin, but then again, a neighbor brought her in." Looking back up to Dean, he doesn't respond. "How about we go somewhere a little more private to discuss your sister's condition?" She lightly grabs Dean by the shoulder and turns him away from the window and you.

********

Dean did his best to listen to the nurse, but all he really wanted to do was get back to you. It was driving him crazy that he couldn't do anything; this wasn't caused by a demon, monster, or anything in his wheelhouse. You were brought in about a day or two after he had seen you. Your neighbor had come over to borrow something and saw you in the window, passed out on the floor. COVID had hit you hard, and you just couldn't shake it; your lungs filled up so fast with fluids that you passed out.

That was a week ago; you had been in the hospital for a week and on a ventilator. The doctors feel that your body just needs time to fight off the infection.

"She seemed fine when I saw her last; how could this happen?" Dean questions, trying to be as respectful as possible without raising his voice and getting kicked out.

"COVID hits everyone differently; we really don't know why. Some people may never get it, and some…" Not finishing her statement, the nurse looks away from Dean.

"Can I go back and sit with her?" Dean asks, more like pleading with her. He just wants to ensure you're doing alright and stand watch until you wake up. He doesn't know what else to do.

"I am sorry, but no," the nurse replies as kindly as possible. Seeing that he will protest this, she quickly adds, "But, you can come back during visiting hours. You won't be able to go in the room; we have to keep it clean because of COVID, but you can see her from the window." Hoping this will be a compromise he can live with. She doesn't want him to get upset and have to call security and have him escorted out. She can tell he cares for her and is scared.

Dean will take it; he knows he has to. You're the strongest person he knows. You will get through this; you have to. "Alright, I guess I will come back then," Dean says, getting up from the table.

********

Walking out of the hospital, Dean calls Sam to tell him what is happening and that he wasn't leaving until you were back home. Screw the world, let the monsters run amuck, and let demons rain hell on earth; he had more important things to do. "I don't care, Sammy, I am not leaving again. This is the only number you can reach me at, and only you," he says, getting into the Impala and firing it up.

"Alright, Dean. I hear you. Do you want me to come? I am almost done here." Sam offers, knowing that Dean won't take him up on it.

"No, I am good, but thanks. You stay on the West Coast until the world calms itself down." Letting the engine run for a bit, Dean takes a second. This has been the longest they have been working apart. It's been hard on both of them, but at least Dean has you to talk to. He has been leaning on you more since Sam was in California. Could Dean have caused this? Was he asking too much of you?

"Dean, hey, you still there?" Sam breaks through his intrusive thoughts.

Clearing his voice, "Yeah."

"You know, she will get through this. She's going to be okay," Sam says, trying his best to reassure him and get him out of his head because even if they are miles apart, he knows his brother. Dean is blaming himself right now for something that he can't control.

“Yeah, I know… I just… what if I…..”

"No, don't think like that, and don't think you had anything to do with this happening." Sam quips back, knowing where his brother's thoughts are going, and he will not have him spiraling out.

"But I ask so much of her. You know she will never say no. Even when she has other things to do, she always drops everything when I ask for a favor. God, I am such a user…"

"No, you're not. Y/N is strong, and she said she would tell you if she didn't want to do something. She wants to help; she thrives on researching this stuff, and you know it." Sam states, "Come on, you know she would rather research lore or listen to one of your 'tales from the front lines,' as she likes to call them, any day of the week."

The thought of you saying these words to him as you patch him up, 'Alright, Dean, what tales to do we have this time?' or how your voice would be giddy when he called you about a case he found. "Yeah, you're right, Sam," Dean replies. Feeling a bit better after talking with Sam, he always knows how to keep him from spiraling too much.

"I know I am; now go get some rest. She's going to need you when she wakes up."

"Night brother"

After hanging up the phone, Dean didn't want to go to a hotel or bar, but he was now wired and needed to do something. Pulling out of the parking lot was second nature, and he found his way to your driveway.

Sitting there, looking at the modest, two-bedroom, two-bath house, he would consider a second home for as much time as he has spent there. It was odd to think about walking through that door and you not being there. When getting out of the car, the sound of the door opening and closing is the only noise that breaks up the silence of the night. Taking a few steps, Dean stops himself from knocking like he usually does. Habit, he thinks. Pulling his keys out, he flips until he finds the one for your house.

It was an argument you had won, not that he didn't want a key. Of course, he did, but he didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands should something happen.

"No, I don't need a key, Y/N," Dean protest, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Yes, you do; now take it." You say, holding out the key for him to take.

"I don't need it; you're always here. Why would I need to get into your place when you're not here?" he questions. Finishing off his beer, he gets up from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. "You want another one?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

You get up and follow him. "Don't change the subject, Winchester," you say, following him and sitting on a kitchen stool. What if I wasn't home tonight?"

Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin and turning to face her, he can tell by the severe look on your face that this is an argument that he won't win. But why make it easy on you. "But you were," giving you a smirk, he opens the fridge to pull out two more bottles. "Besides, where would you be on a Friday night? You have a hot date I don't know about?" he questions. Handing one of the bottles to you.

He struggles slightly to open the bottle with his left hand since his right is currently in a sling. After putting his shoulder back into place and stitching him up, you open the beer in your hand, hand it to him, and take the other one from him. "Maybe," you say cryptically, a twinkle in your eyes.

"Really? Didn't know you were dating anyone?" Dean is slightly put off by this. It's not that someone would want to date you; it's the opposite. You're beautiful, and he always wonders how you were still single after all this time. Intelligent and funny, any guy would be lucky to call you his. Heck, he would like to call you his.

"I am not," you say, putting him out of his misery and his slight spiral of another guy touching her, kissing her… But I could still be out. Do you want to be sitting out in your car waiting for me to get home?" you question, pushing the key towards him. "Just take the dam key. It's only a key. I am not asking you to move in with me."

If you asked him that, he would say yes in a heartbeat. But the reality of his life, what he and Sam do for a living, gives him pause to take the key. "I just don't want anyone else to get their hands on it."

"Who, like Sam? Of course, you can give a copy to Sam." You joke, knowing what he's getting at but trying your best to keep this conversation light.

"No, not Sam. I am thinking Crowley, another demon or monster, or worse, Lucifer. I would hate for anyone other than Sam or me to get their hands on this and come after you."

"Dean, that's not going to happen."

"But it could, you know it could."

Letting out a sigh, you decide to pull out the big guns to get him to take this damn key. "A key is not their first choice to get in. You have put up all the wards you could think of." You say, proving that you are as safe as possible. "Heck, you made me even get this thing." Snapping off your leather bracelet to show off the anti-possession tattoo. "and you know how much I hate needles." The black tattoo shows nicely against your light skin and hides the other barely visible scars.

"Yeah, I found out real quick that day. I think I still have scars on my arm from you digging your nails in," he jokes, bringing his hand up to his wrist to run his fingers around the tattoo and the scars he knows are there.

"Haha, that's real funny." You fake laugh. " Just take it, please. It will make me feel better if you have it." You do your best puppy dog eyes as you push the key closer to him.

Dean takes a moment before caving. "Alright, but I am only going to use it for emergencies." he conceits, taking his keys out and putting your house key on the ring with the rest.

Getting up from the stool, you smile at him, "Thank you, Dean," you say sweetly and hug him.

Dean shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts from that night, as he shuts the door behind him. He stood in the entryway, just taking in the quietness of the house, holding his breath, waiting for you to come down the hallway, saying, ‘Dean, you look like shit; what were you up against this time? Let me get you patched up, and you can tell me all about it.’ Guiding him to the kitchen, you would pull the first aid kit and a beer from the fridge.

Watching these memories play out in front of him, it's not until he lets out a shaky breath that he had been holding that he feels the tears run down his face, "Fuck! Y/N, you got to get better, okay…." choking back, "I can't lose you." The thought of losing another important person in his life. Someone who should have a happy and long life and who, without them, Dean wouldn't be standing here today. He owes everything to you.

Dean can't bring himself to step past the entryway, feeling like an intruder. "I can't…" feeling pressure in his chest, he turns and walks out the door. Locking the door and making the short walk to his car, the pressure subsides once he is in the driving seat. Knowing he can't stay in the house. Too many memories of you and his dark thoughts will keep him up. He also can't put the car in drive and go to the motel just outside of town. It's like his body won't let him leave.

*******

Y/N POV

You were in the hospital for two weeks, and Dean was by your side, or somewhat outside your hospital room, every day, every hour he could be. At least that is what the nurse told you once you were awake. Your 'brother' Dean has been by your side. The first time they told you this, you looked confused, which caused concern from the staff.

"Your brother, Dean," the nurse says again, her voice laced with concern as she points to the window that looks into your room from the hallway.

You turn your head slightly, your body stiff from being in bed for so long, and the breathing tube just being taken out. There you see him, Dean Winchester, raising his hand to give you a short wave, and a look of relief washes over his face, which is covered with a slightly heavy five-clock shadow. You give him a smile and look back at the nurse. "Yeah, sorry, of course, he's my brother. Just didn't know anyone called him?" you reply, "Can I have some water?" you ask, you're throat feeling like sandpaper.

"Sure," the nurse says, filling a cup and handing it to you. "Well, the doctor will be in soon," she says, giving you a short smile and walking towards the door.

"Umm, can my brother come in?" you ask. Knowing that no matter what she says, Dean will make it in here one way or the other. The nurse hesitates. "It's just that I would like him to hear what the doctor says. I am still groggy, not sure I am going to remember everything he tells me," you add, hoping this will pull on her heartstrings just a bit.

Which does work, "Sure." she replies, giving you a smile and then walking out the door. She briefly talks to Dean before walking away, and Dean enters the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean says, shutting the door behind him and walking towards you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. You try to sit up a bit more, but you struggle a bit.

Dean quickly gets to you. " Here, let me," he says, finding the remote for the bed, setting you upright, and then readjusting your pillows. "Good?" he asks once it looks like you're settled.

Feeling slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this, you’re sure you're a mess, bed hair, hospital gowns, and oh man…your breath has got to stink by now, right? Trying your best not to breathe out, "Yeah, thanks." you quickly reply. Dean sits in the chair next to your bed but doesn't say anything. Okay, guess you will start. "So brother, hum?" you quip.

He smiles at this and looks away from you to the bedding. "Yeah, I had to say something; otherwise, they would never let me back in." Then, looking back at you, a slight panic sets in that you might be mad at him for this small lie. " You're not mad, are you?" he asks.

"No, of course not," you reply, wanting to reassure him that everything is fine. This does, as relief washes over him a second time. You hold out your hand for him to take. "Just wonder what Sam will say about having a little sister, that's all. I am sure he will hate being the middle child," you joke.

Dean gives a short laugh: "Oh, Sammy will be all right with it. He will be happy to hear you're awake, is all." Dean's fingers rubbing your hand back and forth are nice.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask, trying to remember the day before you were brought in, but it's all a blur. Was he coming to see you? Was he working on a case?

"I was coming back through, and you had helped me with the case in North Carolina…" lowering his voice, even though you're in a private room," that Dinji." Dean recounts, seeing you not remember. He continues, "I stopped by your place, and your neighbor was out and said you were in the hospital."

None of that is registering at all, like last month, which is a blank slate. Fuck, what else are you not remembering? "And you have been here this whole time?" you ask, wondering what the state of the world must be like if he has taken himself out of saving the world for two weeks! Is Sam okay?

Dean's eyes, bright green, lock with yours, cocking his head slightly to the side, with slight confusion at your shock that he was here the whole time. "Of course, where else would I be? I wasn't going to leave you alone here," he says, a matter of fact.

You're about to reply to this, ask more questions, ask how Sam is, but before you can, the doctor enters the room. "Miss. Moore, welcome back," he says, looking at your chart and then at you and Dean. And this must be your brother?" he asks, holding his hand for Dean to shake.

Dean does, letting go of yours, the loss of him, his touch is apparent. "Hey, doc, when can I take my sister home?" Dean asks.

The doctor starts to talk, but you're not listening; your mind drifts to Dean. He put his life on pause for you? Wow, that's something, but you're sure he would do it for Charlie, Jody, Claire, or Alex, right? Yeah, of course. Dean sees you as family, which is what you are to him; that's what you will always be. Yes, you were close. He and Sam saved you from the vampire nest, explained everything about their world, and gave you a purpose.

You feel a slight pressure in your chest. Now that you're awake, how long will he stay before he leaves again?

"So I will get the nurse to start the discharge paperwork, and you guys should be out of there in a few hours," the doctor says. Giving you a smile.

Not hearing anything but that, you just smile back and look towards the window. You hear Dean thank the doctor, and he leaves the room. "nice guy," Dean says, filling up the silence.

"Yeah," you reply. You’re not sure what you are feeling; it's almost like a weight on your chest, pressure. Maybe it is COVID; it will be better once you get home. It has to, right?

******

You didn't know Dean could fuss over you more if he tried. He insisted that he be the one to wheel you out of the hospital, only after he made sure the car was pulled up as close to the door as possible so you didn't have to walk too far. Then, when he pulled into your driveway, he insisted he carry you the short walk to the front door.

"No, Dean, I can walk. My legs aren't broken; I had COVID, that's all." you quip back as he comes over to your side of the car to pick you up.

"The doctor said you shouldn’t over-exaggerate yourself, that's all," he replies, trying again to wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up from standing against the closed car door.

You block his hands again. As much as you would like his arms around you, have him cradle you; where is this coming from? You also don't want him to hurt himself, or God forbid the neighbors see him carrying you bridle style. "Yeah, walking the three feet to my front door is not going to kill me." This comment is like a punch in the gut for Dean; it's written on his face. Shit, was my COVID scare that much of an effect on him? But why? Trying to write your wrong, you try to play it off. "Come on, man, I have been on my back for two weeks and must move a little bit." You quip back. Playfully pushing him aside and walking towards the door.

You get to the door but realize you don't have your keys, you didn't have those, or your phone when you were brought into the hospital. You wait for Dean to come up behind you. He doesn't say anything, pulling out his keys; he opens the door and lets you walk in first. You shuck off your jacket and shoes and go to the living room. Sitting on the couch, you try to hide the sigh of exhaustions that you feel from the small activities you just did; but it slips past your lips and is not lost on Dean.

"Want me to make you some tea? You hungry?" Dean asks.

"No, I want you to tell me what's happened since I was in the hospital. Did all the evil in the world decide to take a break while I was out, and that's how you got to have some time off?" you question, motioning him to sit next to you on the couch.

Dean shrugs at this, "No. I just told Sam I was taking myself off the board, is all." he says casually.

"Taking yourself off the board? Hum, I didn't know you guys could do that," you ask, Giving him an intuitive look.

Dean is giving you nothing back, shaking his head, looking around the room, and clapping his hands together. He points towards the kitchen, "I am going to make that tea for you." He walks away before you can stop him, leaving you to your thoughts. Something else is happening, and you know who to call to get the truth out.

******

Making that call seem more complicated than usual since Dean didn't leave your side for anything. Three days, three days of hovering and mothering you, and as much as you care for Dean, and possibly secretly loved him. Let's face it, those chest tightening pains at the hospital, the loss of his touch was not COVID symptoms, it was your heart telling you what you already knew. You were in love with Dean Winchester, and the fact that he dropped everything for you made your head spin and feel like the most important girl in the world. But you are a realist, and Dean Winchester is out of your league. He sees you as the little sister he got settled with, not the girl he wants to kiss and do other things with.

On top of that, you are sure his opinions of you drop a few points since you found out really quick that to pass the time while he waited for you to wake up, he decided to clean your house from top to bottom. The sheer embarrassment when you found out had you want the couch to swallow you up right there. "Excuse me, you did what?" you ask, thinking you didn't hear him right when you ask; the following day, a book you usually had on your coffee table was now on the bookshelf that it was never on.

"I did some cleaning while you were…" Dean says, not finishing that statement while he grabs the few dishes off the coffee table and heads towards the kitchen. He never finishes that statement. Whenever he says it, he never says 'when you were in the hospital' or 'when you were sick.' After three days of the hanging statement, you get frustrated over that.

But knowing he cleaned your house, how clean is clean? Did he do your laundry? Yep! Did he clean under your bed and put stuff away on your nightstand? God forbid he did a deep clean in your closet—oh, the embarrassment. "Why?" you ask, now following him, waiting for an answer that you sure won't come.

Dean has his back to you, rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. "What? It's not a big deal. I had time, plus the nurse thought it was a good idea for you to come home to a clean hose." He says while wiping down the counter.

You try your best to breathe and calm down. Yes, all that is true, a clean house to come home too make sense. But having him go through your personal and private things, fuck, him cleaning your underwear. He will never look at you as desirable again, not like he did before. You look up from the floor to see him watching you, waiting for a reply. "thanks, I guess," you say, defeated. "I am going to go take a shower." You say, needing just a few minutes by yourself, shake off this feeling of rejection you know he doesn't realize he caused.

"You need some help?" he asks, approaching you and walking a step behind you.

You take a second, knowing again that he just wants to help, but God treats you like an old woman. Because you know that his offer of 'helping you out' in the shower does not imply sexy times; it's he saying he thinks you are weak and that you're going to get tired, fall, and hurt yourself. You get to the bathroom door. "No, I got it, thanks," you say, opening the door and shutting it before he can say anything.

*****

Dean POV

I know I am being overprotective, maybe even going overboard with not letting her do anything, and perhaps the deep clean was an overreach. But in my defense, I thought I could lose her, and if she was going to, no, when she was going to come home, I wanted it to be in a clean, COVID-free house.

I turn away from the bathroom door and walk towards the living room. I start to clean up, picking up the discarded blanket from my makeshift bed; even though she has a spare room, it's on the second floor away from her, and I want to be close in case she needs me in the night.

The rigging of my phone pulls me from my thoughts of her. Picking up, I see it's Sam. "Hey, what's up?" I ask, dropping the blanket and myself onto the couch.

"Just checking in, how's Y/N?"

"Good, still low energy, but I am just happy she’s walking and talking, even if I am annoying her."

"You, annoying her, I can't believe it," Sam says, with fake shock. "You know she can take care of herself; she has been doing that for some time now." Sam reminds me. Knowing that my hovering is coming for a place of love for Y/N, but it could be doing more damage than good.

"I know, it's just…" I pause briefly, looking back to see the closed bathroom door. "Sam, she just looked so helpless there lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to those machines…and there was nothing I could do…nothing that could save her…I just had to wait."

Sam knows that's not my strong suit, "I know, I get it, but maybe just ease off a little. I am sure it's making her feel like a burden, you doing everything for her."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I will try."

"I know I am." He clears his throat and paused briefly before asking what he knew I would not want to answer: "So when are you heading back to the bunker?"

I pause momentarily; the idea of leaving you hadn't crossed his mind. "Umm…" Hearing the door open, he looks to see you walking out of the bathroom and down the hallway to your room, wrapped in your navy-blue plaid robe, hair slightly damp from the shower. "Not sure yet, but I will keep you posted. I got to go." I say quickly, hanging up the phone. I know that she can take care of herself, but at the same time, I don't want to leave her again; what if I do and something happens, and there is no one here to save her again. Sam's right, though; I have to back off, or I am liable to smother her.

*****

Y/N POV (about a week later)

Something seems to have changed in Dean in the last few days. It was like the old carefree Dean was back. He hovered less, not watching my every move, and even went on a quick day trip to the bunker to pick up more books for me to read since I had read everything in my place twice, and if I was going to be stuck inside I wanted to do something productive. Granted, I had to ride shotgun on this trip, so although we got out of the house, I was still under his protective eye. But he wasn't babying me anymore; he cracked jokes, smiled, and even complained when I made him watch the same movie repeatedly.

Dean was going on a food run, and this was one outing he didn't let me go on. Too many people, could possibly get sick again, so he didn't want to risk it. But he also hated doing it, leaving you alone. "You're sure you're going to be fine," he asks again, standing in the doorway, you on the other side, trying your best not to push him out and lock the door.

"Yes, Dean, you'll be gone for an hour. I think I can survive." you quip, pushing him playfully, "Go, I promise, no running around the house with scissors or jumping on the bed. I will keep my butt on the couch until you get back."

Dean's worried face slightly softens, knowing that you will be fine, but that pit in his stomach—the thought of him walking out that door again and not having you in his sight—will never go away. "Okay, but call me if you feel off," he reminds you again.

"Yes, now go." You reply with a smile. Yes, he was getting on your nerves slightly, but you still loved the guy for it.

You watch as he pulls out of the driveway and down the road before you head inside. Walking to your room, you find your cell phone charging, and you quickly make the call you've been waiting to make since you got home.

He picked up on the second ring: "Y/N, everything alright? Dean texted me to say he was going on a food run. Do you need him? Are you not feeling well?…" Sam blurts out, a lengthy, run-on statement that has you slightly spinning.

Trying your best not to laugh at him. "Sam, calm down; I am good. I just wanted to talk to my friend. How are you?" you ask, wanting to ease into this discussion. Plus, you really did want to know how he was doing; ever since you came home, you only talked to Sam when Dean would call him and have him on speakerphone. Even then, Sam was instructed not to speak about cases he was working on. Dean had a theory that possibly COVID was stress-induced, but you know it wasn't.

"I am good, making my way back to the bunker. I have a case in Wisconsin, so I'm in your area. I was thinking of seeing you guys once it's done."

"Oh yes, please do, Sam. It's been ages since we've hung out together. I feel like a movie marathon is needed."

"Yeah, if you're up for it. Dean tells me you get tired easily. Is anything else not the same?"

"Umm…brain fog for sure; I lost all memory of the week before I went into the hospital. Some things don't taste the same. But honestly, Sam, can we not talk about me for a bit. Tell me about the case in Wisconsin; what are you hunting this time." You inquire, done talking about yourself, need a distraction, and avoid asking Sam what you want to know.

Sam, being the best friend, a girl could ask for, knew that a distraction from your symptoms was what you needed, and although it would be breaking his promise to Dean, he could hear it in your voice, the need for some kind of normalcy, at least what normal is considered for us. Giving you all the details, you can come to the same conclusion that it was a vengeful spirit and a simple salt and burn job is in order.

Once Sam is done talking about Wisconsin, a lull in the conversation forms, and you look at the clock to see Dean should be home soon. "Sam, can I ask you something?" You feel slightly nervous and try to figure out how to phrase your question.

"Of course, you can ask me anything."

Taking a breath, you wait a second before asking, "How was Dean when he found out I was sick? He said he 'took himself off the board' and has been hovering since I got home. He's gotten better, but those first few days, it was like he was a different person."

Sam can tell by the last statement that you're trying to bring some levity to an otherwise heavy question, a question that he is surprised you have to ask. taking a breath, he thinks about how to say, ‘You idiot, he loves you! and you love him!'

"I am glad to hear that he's lost up the reins a bit," giving a chuckle, "but honestly, Y/N, he was devastated. I know he's my big brother, and he tries his best to hide his emotions, but I could tell that night when he called to tell me what happened, he was scared. Scared that he was going to lose you, scared that he might have caused this to happen to you."

"How could he have caused COVID? I mean, I get he sometimes can have a big ego, but, come on, he can't cause an infection."

"No, but he thinks he has been asking too much of you, wearing you down. I can't say whether he's right or wrong. You and I know you occasionally burn the candle at both ends."

"Yeah, I am trying to get better at that. But Sam, he was treating me like I was 90 years old. He wouldn't let me do a thing around here. And did he tell you he cleaned my house—my whole house—before I got home? I mean everything."

"Oh man, I am sure you were not happy to hear about that."

"Your damn right. I wasn't."

"Look, it's not my place to say, but I will tell you this, remember that night when you and I got a little tipsy, and you might have let slip your feelings for a certain green eye hunter?"

Fuck, of course, he remembers that night; that was right after you had helped him and Dean take down a wraith, and Dean was out on a beer run. "Yeah, you asked me why I never seem to be dating anyone, and I said I can't be with the one guy I want, so why be with the wrong guy at all."

Sam waits for you to connect the dots, and although you're not sitting in front of him, Sam has a feeling you're making the connections: "Let's just say Dean has the same idea, and he has his eye on a hazel eye researcher that he thinks he can't have."

You're about to protest Sam's statement that Dean has no feelings for you other than sibling love, but before you can, you hear the front door open and Dean yelling, "Honey, I am home," sweetly.

"I've Got to go, Sam. Talk soon," you say, and hang up before he can reply.

*********

Sam's words kept rolling around in your mind all night, distracting you from Dean. During dinner, you were quiet, letting him lead the conversation and not making it known when he mentioned Sam might be stopping by in a day or two that you two had talked earlier. "Oh, okay, sounds good." you responded, still thinking, 'He has his eye on a hazel-eye researcher that he thinks he can't have.'

Dean went for girls that were the complete opposite of you, blonde, curves in all the right places without an ounce of fat to be seen, the girl that guys walk across fire for, not the girl that they run into fire to get away from. Not the girl who is socially awkward around strangers, who can put her foot in her mouth easier than anyone, and who has more of a backstory than is worth mentioning. No, Dean goes for simple, noncomplex girls, which makes sense, given his life is entirely of danger and complexity. Why go for a girl to add to it.

Dean can tell your mind is elsewhere, and he is slightly worried that you're lost in your head or that this might be another symptom. "Hey, space cadet, you with me? Because if you're not watching the movie, I will gladly turn it to something we haven't seen twice this week," he jokes, hoping to make fun of the situation.

His voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you look over at him; his eyes have just a hint of worry to them. The blanket across both of you, him in a simple white t-shirt and sleep bottoms, you in gray leggings, tank top, and open cardigan. Perfection, you and Dean cozy up on the couch, not a care in the world, him teasing you about your love of disaster movies, and you forcing him to watch the same one repeatedly, and he does; why? Because he loves you. He loves you like a sister, a friend, someone he cares for, just not someone he’s IN love with.

"yeah, sorry, I think I am just going to go to bed." You shake off that last statement: he's not IN love with you. God, you really know how to cut yourself deep, don't you? Getting up from the couch, you grab your water glass and head towards your room.

Dean gets up with you, "here, let me help you," he says, walking around the couch and placing a hand on your lower back.

This is the last straw, the final statement of his wanting to help you, again treating you like you're helpless. "Stop! Just stop!" you yell, feeling yourself boil with rage you knew you had been keeping at bay. You know his hovering is with the best intentions, but for you, it's blurring the lines between what you want from him and what you know he can give you. Your mind won't let it be accurate even after what Sam told you today.

Dean stops his hands from touching you, standing still like he is frozen in time. "Y/N, hey, I just want to help. You look tired, is all." His voice is soft and sweet.

He’s trying to placate you, like he would a child or grandparent, "Dean, I am fine; I can walk ten feet to my room on my own and not get lost or fall down, okay!" You lock eyes with him and see his face fall, and in that moment, you know that he's hurt; you've only ever yelled at him when you were injured and need him to find you. But that was screaming for him, not at him. You know that you should feel bad for your outburst, you do, but you know that this is not real, that this ideal version of him and you playing house can't last.

"What is wrong? Is this another symptom? Did something happen while I was out?" he asks, wanting to understand your sudden change since this morning. You start walking away from him, wanting to get into your room and away from him, knowing he will get the truth out of you. You don't want to hear his excuses or him placate you even more about why he and you will never be a thing.

You turn halfway down the hall to look back at him, standing there watching you. "No! It's not! I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. Stop treating me like I am dying, Dean! You saved me once; that should be enough for you." Turning back, you reach your door, hand on the handle to open it, when you hear Dean.

"What does that mean?" Dean questions, his footsteps pad against the hardwood floors, standing right behind you; you can feel his breath on your neck, "I know you are capable; you are the strongest woman I know." his voice low, sending shivers down your body, you feel his hand on your arm, turning you around to face him. He sees your tear-stain cheek, "Fuck, Y/N, talk to me; what is going on? Why would you say saving you once was enough?"

Your eyes, trying and failing to hold back the tears, are now on the brink of spilling out. He needs to just let you go. You lean back against the door, knowing he took that little movement as exhaustion, and you are. You are exhausted by talking about this repeatedly, tired that he just can't let you leave, won't give up, and will go back to seeing you only when he needs something. He needs to go back to his life and let you put him back into the box of things that you don't let yourself have. Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face, wiping the tears and pushing them back inside. Putting on your brave face, "You know, Sam will be here in two days. I think you should go back with him. Go back to the bunker, and 'put yourself back on the board.'"

Throwing his line back at him, telling him he needed to return to work and that you would be fine without him. Will you, though? In time, maybe? You turned the door handle and stepped into the room, never breaking your eye contact with him. He shut the door in his face and flipped the lock, not giving him a chance to speak, knowing that he would not force his way in.

To be continued

#supernatural #fanfic #fanfiction #dean winchester #writing prompt #fandom #supernatural fanfiction #dean fan fiction #dean x curvy!reader #dean x chubby reader #dean x reader angst #dean x y/n #dean winchester angst

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amelee23 · 10 months

Text

Special | Lee Know Fluff

Pairing: Lee Know x Gender neutral reader

Genre: Romance, poetic prose, first person

Word count: 1k

Warnings: this is disgustingly romantic, reader is worshiping their love for lino basically, talks about mythology and gods

A/n: Please let me know if you liked this, since I do know this is a kind of writing that isn't really done around here (?) but I am a hopeless romantic so here goes nothing lmao

Synopsis: One day, you began to wonder: what makes your love story with Minho so special? As you struggle to find an answer, you only find more love.

Millions of people fall in love every single day, but what makes my story special?

My story, by all normal means, is not in any way special. I'm sure history has heard of stories like mine countless of times.

What could I say to make it sound special? That it was love at first sight?

Well, it was. But that's also cliche. I don't believe it to be as rare as it sounds.

That he thawed my cold heart and made it beat again? Even though he did - my ex made me feel oh so special, and when he walked out of my life, every wall he had knocked down were built right back up.

But then I met another boy, and he spoke to me with a sparkle in his eye, with hidden kindness and sensitivity beyond every word. And I fell in love hopelessly, on the spot.

What else could I say -? That he has a heart of gold? He does, this boy of mine has helped countless animals find shelter, fed starving children across the world and offered every little ounce of him towards the happiness of those around him. But does that make our story special enough?

He's not a king of ancient kingdoms, although secretly, when he sits down at his desk I imagine he could be. A heavy crown on his head, the garments of nobility, an aura around him that demands respect. Plus, he's never taken a selfish decision in his life, he's always looked after me and stirred me in the right direction.

He's not a knight in shining armor, although when we're together I feel so powerful - that we could indeed be slaying dragons! Both of us, clad in armor, standing back to back with wide swords ready to charge into battle, the background forgotten in a mist of smoke and ashes. There is no foe that could stand in our way.

Perhaps you could say, this story is special because he is special. But he would kill me if he heard me say that, that he's special and I'm not.

Because if you ask him, I've got it all backwards. He's just Minho, and I'm the star.

The star of his world.

He swears I must be famous, because although I don't see it (or refuse to admit it) everyone around me adores me. Or so he says. He always says I'm loved, oh so loved, and not just by him. He's merely my biggest fan, and sometimes-! Sometimes he acts like my manager. Marketing me to others, telling stories of how great I am. How cute.

But let's get back to talking about him. Since he's my favorite topic to talk about.

So he's not a king, nor a knight. Perhaps he's a seer, since he does seem to posses the ability to foresee the future! He always talks about such distant destinies, the names of our children, the color of our shared bedroom, the furniture of our kitchen, all these memories we're yet to have... Hmm, maybe he can predict the future. I doubt it's all wishful thinking!

Or maybe he's a magician? A healer, a witch, a mage - he must be able to perform some sort of healing magic, because once, when I had a headache, he kissed my forehead and the pain went away. That couldn't have been a coincidence-!

What else could I compare him to, to make this seem more magical? An Egyptian deity...? No, let's not do that, it sounds somewhat blasphemous to compare a mere mortal to an ancient God... although he should definitely try dressing as one for Halloween! Gold would look great on his honey-like skin, surrounded by his tightly protected kittens... From what I have read he'd fit Anubis the most, for he's such a good listener, so supportive, it's like he has the ability to bring people back to life, breathe motivation back into them when they feel they're at the end of their road - just like Anubis used to help in the process of reincarnation. It doesn't even have to be Egyptian, I could say he reminds me of Prometheus, the man who stole fire from the gods, to give it to humanity in an absolute tragic and noble sacrifice... (I did compare him to gods even though I said I wouldn't, right?)

Maybe he's a forest fairy? No, this one I am a certain about. He blends into nature, it's the place where he most belongs. What else could he be, other than a magical sprite of nature? Animals adore him, I'm sure he can communicate with them in languages only they can understand. And whenever we go camping, and he lies down on the grass, on our old and stained picnic blanket, it seems as though the grass grows; flowers sprout around his body and the sun seeps into his skin, making him glow. And then he smiles and beckons me over, to share with him of his fruit, and I'm sure it's actually ambrosia.

Yes, this should be the one. Being a human, being my lover, it's all just a cover for something so deeply mysterious, ancient and magical, living inside of him, running through his veins... I hope he doesn't lose his magic by settling for someone as simple as me, who could only admire, but barely comprehend the history of his existence...

If he were to read this, he would think I'm very funny. And probably check my temperature for a fever. But one thing's for sure - we could be anything if we tried to be, a supernatural story, a Greek tragedy, a new York besteller... But we don't need to. Because what we have is enough.

There's a million people who fall in love every single day. But there's a million reasons why my lover is made out of pure magic - and while this might not be the most special love story of all time, it is the most special story of my life.

A/n: Just a thousand words my game weak this time around I am sTRugGLINg

If you like my work, consider donating so I can continue writing!

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dojunie · 2 years

Text

SWIMMING, FOR DUMMIES; LJN [TEASER]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

swim teacher/lifeguard jeno

slight slow burn because you know idk how to get my point across in less than 9k words of build up

genre; fluff, strangers-to-lovers, reader has mild aquaphobia, college-aged but no learning is to be had

warnings for this trailer; none? cursing, nothing too crazy, brief mentions of drowning

teaser wc; 1.5k / est fic wc; 10kish but i lie / comment on this post for taglist!

[a/n: i swear to god i am a renjun enjoyer i dont know where all these jeno wips are coming from]

"WHO WERE YOU EXPECTING TO TEACH A BEGINNERS SWIM CLASS IF NOT SOMEONE LIKE ME?"

Jeno breaks the silence easily, stooping down to dig through what looks to be a bin of paper forms. From this angle, as he stretches for something deeper in the cabinet, all nine hundred of his back muscles seem to be staring at you through his black rash guard.

Jesus Christ. It’s like he’s made out of steel. You wonder, absently, what it would feel like if you poked it; you didn’t know anyone that was this fit besides Ryujin, and her hugs always felt a little like being swaddled by a meat-tenderizer.

“An old person,” you blurt truthfully. “Uh, because they’d have the most experience or whatever. Like those little elderly ladies who swim for twelve hours a day.”

"I see. I guess I'm a little different than an old woman, right?"

You glance again at his shoulder blades. They still look like they’re trying to rip their way out of his shirt. What old woman is built like this?

“A little.”

“Honestly," he continues, "You would have been out of luck either way. Most of the other instructors are still in college. But if we’re young, we’ll be able to save you faster if you’re drowning— so that’s a plus, isn’t it?”

You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. You smile drily when he turns around and he actually laughs— so you guess it was a joke— his eyes disappearing into little crescents, which momentarily distracts you from the bolt of fear that runs down your spine at the thought of drowning. In the next second he’s off again, down another corridor, herding you through a door he holds open into a more public part of the aquatic center.

You can smell the chlorine now. The dizzying scent of fresh pool cleaner floats in the air, and even with ‘Mr. Youth’ walking not even two feet from you, goosebumps still rise on your skin.

"You're the last duck, so when we get there it’ll just be introductions.”

"The last duck?"

"...Ah. No, sorry, I meant the last person who signed up for this block. It's a little hard to switch out of the kid speak when I'm here."

Jeno flashes you a reassuring smile, and the cuteness of it catches you so off guard you don't even understand what's been said until he's pushing open another door into what looks like a waiting room. The chlorine smell intensifies. Through the glass on the other side you can see a huge pool, crystal blue, shallow and long, but before that sits a slew of what seems to be elementary school aged children, chattering and laughing and milling about without a care in the world.

"Kid speak?" you echo slowly, wide gaze curiously fanning over their itty bitty faces, "What do you mean kid—"

"Good afternoon, ducks!" Jeno bellows out over the group, all of them whipping around to find the source of the noise and then cheerfully calling back: "Good afternoon, Seonsaengnim!"

You continue to not understand. Teacher?

Jeno maneuvers around and through the children, to stand up near the doors next to another adult you hadn't noticed at first— a tall and (also) very handsome guy with dark upturned eyes, who is staring, obviously confused at your presence here, right back at you.

“I took a long time today, right?” Jeno asks with an exaggerated sigh. “Who’s ready to get in the water?”

The children cheer. And then it finally clicks.

You could only imagine what look of pure, unfiltered terror lay across your face as it finally set in what Donghyuck really signed you up for. The duck comment. Why the ‘teacher’ was so much younger than you’d expected. The very carefully blank look Hyuck had given you this morning when you left your shared apartment to drive to the aquatic center. Donghyuck. Donghyuck had signed you up for a kiddie class. A class for elementary schoolers, for what looked like 7-10 year old children, to learn how to swim.

You feel your face light ablaze.

Oh, god! That's why Jeno had been looking at you so funny when you told him you were here for this class— you were more than double the age of his average student!

Jeno clears his throat to regather the attention of his excited students, and you, horrified, look up as well.

"I’m sure most of you are bored of this speech by now. But for all my new kids: my name is Teacher Jeno. This instructor to my side is Teacher Doyoung, and our extra help in the back? With the bright pink rash guard? You can call her Assistant Helper.”

Assistant who? You almost go to turn around to find who the hell else is going to witness your misery until you realize that Jeno is gesturing at you— at you— with a very pointed look in his eyes.

The oblivious kids only nod and smile and wave back at you before turning their attention back to the front. What?

"Great!" Jeno rumbles, hands clapping together, "Teacher Doyoung will show you guys to the changing rooms, and I want you all to store your belongings in the cubbies he shows you. For those of you that need them, bring your goggles. We'll meet on the pool deck, okay?"

Just like that, Teacher Doyoung shoots Jeno a look but then disappears out of the doors, the kids following after him just as fast. The sudden empty silence and wash of chlorine through your nose jumpstarts your overloaded senses. Your eyes lock onto his. You feel like you’re about to faint.

"Lee Jeno," you hiss. He was expecting this. He backs up immediately when you start on him.

"Before you get upset—"

"Before I get upset? So you knew I didn't know?"

You could probably count all of his eyelashes from how close you are, practically toe to toe as stares down at you guiltily. You're so embarrassed you could just die. "I… I thought you’d leave if you knew.”

"You thought I'd leave and you still didn't tell me that this is a class for children?!"

"Dick move in hindsight," he agrees quickly. "But I was thinking, what if I just teach you one on one? Later, while the kids are doing freeswim, so they'll be too busy trying to kill each other to notice you. They all go home after that so no one will have to witness your, uh... learning. That’s what you're worried about, right?”

Oh. What?

"...Right?" he tries.

He’s offering to teach you… alone? Like during his own free time?

Your embarrassment dissipates like smoke into the air between you. Confusion slowly wins out over your agitation, you settle back off of your toes, frowning; and he exhales like he’d really been expecting you to jump him or something. "Why would you do that for me?"

He shrugs. His eyes dart away to stare at a fraying thread on one of his braided bracelets. “I just think it would suck to waste a trip here just because the website wasn't clear and you clicked the wrong age range, you know?"

"I wasn't the one who signed up. My friend did it for me.”

The venom in your voice seeps out. Just thinking about Donghyuck right now upsets you all over again. You would have to get him back soooo good to make up for this— Maybe switch out all his swim trunks for a bikini on the trip, or replace his conditioner with purple dye and ruin that 300 dollar bleach job. That would be positively evil. Or maybe you could—

"But why would your friend sign you up for swimming lessons?”

"Almost drowned.”

You barely miss how Jeno's eyebrows fly up into his hairline.

"What? Seriously? How?"

"Are you this nosy with all of your students?"

You’re only teasing but the boy's face actually folds like he's about to apologize or something annoying like that so you elaborate. "I tried to impress a guy I liked earlier this month at a pool party, and nearly died. Absolute shitshow. Donghyuck, my friend, said the only way he was letting me near water again was if I took swimming lessons from a professional, so. Here I am. What the prick didn’t tell me was that he was signing me up for kiddie hour."

Jeno's eyes flash surprise and then another emotion you can't quite figure out before it settles back into general, ‘Wow-That’s-Embarrasing’ sympathy. Discomfort at the little lie settles lightly on your skin, rising goosebumps, but you ignore it. So what if you weren't telling the whole truth?

Jeno probably already thought you were a freak for not knowing how to swim. He definitely didn't need to know about the whole aquaphobia thing, too.

[here it is, sfd anon!!!! after your ask i got to editing this again, and... lifeguard jeno <333333]

[please leave a like if you enjoyed! interactions and comments 100% motivate me to work on these harder. thanks for reading!]

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yourmommygay · 4 months

Text

Let's trust him.

Idea: This is set just after Liam brings theo back and is set in Scott's house when they find out he's back.

Pairings: theo raeken x plus size!reader, Malia tate/hale x reader (siblings. Malia is 2 years older), Scott mccall x reader (platonic), Liam Dumbar x reader (best friends)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and violence.

Be prepared this is a kinda long one.

Cody christain is just majestic.

Me, malia and Scott had just returned to Scott's after receiving a message from Liam asking for us to come back. As I stepped out of my truck and closed the door I heard my sister growl, I didn't understand why, I just shrugged it off and walked over to Scott who was walking up the path to the front door.

We entered the house and I heard hushed whispers from towards the kitchen area, I identified the voices of Liam and hayden aka my best friend and his girlfriend. As I rounded the corner I saw him, theo. My ex boyfriend standing behind my best friend and hayden who was holding the katana.

"What's going on here?" I asked worried as to why he was here. Liam looked sad almost guilty but still confident all at once. Scott stepped towards Liam with a angry glint in his eyes.

(Skip to later. Also im adding more speach cause its been a while since ive watched teen wolf and i cant find it anywhere as i live in the uk)

"Scott I don't trust him" malia said to Scott and I don't blame her, he manipulated us all, made us believe we could trust him, shot malia, made me fall in love with him just so he could get closer to the pack, manipulated Liam into trying to kill Scott then trying and sort of succeeding in killing him. "I know you don't malia, but Liam thinks he may be able to help us, he remembers stiles" Scott said trying to calm down the situation.

"I remember stiles, Lydia remembers stiles, y/n remembers stiles and so do you. We don't need theo, Liam needs to send him back. He tried to kill you scott" malia rambled getting angrier by the second. "What do you think y/n?" Scott asked looking straight at me, I looked over at theo and saw his eyes. He was listening in to the conversation and he looked scared. "Malia has a point he did try to kill you." I pause. "But so did I and malia and Liam and Peter and Kate and Chris and Jackson and yet you gave us another chance and trusted us. I say we give him one more chance, if he does something we don't like or agree with put him back" I respond.

Scott nods and tells Liam "y/n's right, but he's your responsibility. You watch him, got it?" Liam nods and looks over at me "can y/n help? She's theos weakness remember".

(Flashback to before they sent him to his personal hell)

"Y/n your everything to me, I didn't mean to involve you in the plan. I didn't mean to fall in love with you, at first I thought maybe it was easy but then you actually treated me the way I wanted to be treated, with love and care. God I'm crazy about you y/n, if anything happened to you I'd lose my mind. Your the only thing that keeps me calm and anchored" theo said trying to plea for my forgiveness.

"I can't be with you theo, not anymore. Your not the person I thought you was. If you can change then maybe at some point eventually but right now I'm pushing myself to just talk to you, I don't think I can trust you" I turned and left theo standing there looking like a kid who just dropped their ice cream.

"Fine catherine goes with but if he gets to close to her stop him" Scott and malia both say St the same time making me smirk. I have a feeling they will be together soon enough, there's always been something there. I can tell.

(Time skip again)

I'm walking behind hayden and Liam by theo but not next to him as I see Liam and hayden being a cute couple. Hayden says how she trusts liam I nearly make an audible sound of adoration towards the teenage couple as they kiss theo says "oh do you want me to leave you two alone to have some couple time?" He then holds up the chains "Oh wait I can't" he says annoyed. Liam rolls his eyes and me and hayden giggle at the boys. Liam yanks on the chain connected to the handcuffs on theo's wrists.

As I'm walking theo looks at me. "Hey" he whispers knowing that even though the teenage couple infront of us are talking that if he spoke loud enough Liam would hear him. "Hi" I whisper back. "I heard what you said to Scott back at the house, thank you for sticking up for me" he whispers smiling at me, not a smirk like before, a genuine smile. "I didn't do it as a favor for you." Amd just like that the smile is gone.

"I did it for me, so I can kill you once we have finished with you" I smile and him then jog to catch up and walk next to hayden.

(Time skip again. I'm sorry)

"Scott was right, I'm sending you back" Liam said to theo, we had just returned to the little shed thingy and saw a ghost rider dead in the cage with the gate open and theo sitting on the floor. I hadn't looked at theo yet I just know he's sitting on the floor, I finally look over at theo then turn to Liam and whisper to Liam "leave me alone with him, I'll fine out what happened" Liam looks hesitant but I nod and he and everyone else walks out leaving me with theo.

I sit down next to theo sideways facing him. I cross my legs, sigh and put my hands in my lap. "What happened theo?" I ask. Theo looks at me with tears in his eyes and blood on his face, "my sister would pull my heart out, over and over and over and over again. Then suddenly you appeared and she started pulling your heart out then she would make me pull it out, I couldn't. I couldn't hurt you again so I always had to watch you die." He said catching me of guard. "Theo I meant about what happened here. Is-is that what you witnessed in your personal hell?" I ask putting my hand on his knee. He nods then says "it was uh, Mr Douglas. He came in here, killed the ghost rider. Ate something from in his brain that let him use the whip" theo says then he clears his throat and sits up more, still leaning on the wall.

"Mr Douglas, as in the new teacher?" I ask in disbelief. Theo nods again and I nod. "Theo I have to ask, did you try to stop him?" I ask scared of the answer. "Yeah I did he uh, he pushed me against the wall and then faced the ghost rider" theo said and I knew he was telling the truth cause they couldn't lie to me. I nod and pull theo into my chest hugging him catching him by surprise but he quickly wrapped his arms around me and buried his head in my neck.

"I missed you" I confess. "I missed you so much more and I'm so sorry I broke your trust and I promise I will try to prove myself and change, for you. I'll be better for you" theo said looking me in the eyes. I smile and nod then kiss theo quickly before calling Scott and Liam and the others back in.

I stand up as they enter and say "He's telling the truth, he had nothing to do with what happened here. In fact he tried to stop it from happening but he couldn't. Scott can I talk to you outside?" I ramble, Scott nods and we walk out the little shed thingy. "Scott, he's just told me what he went through down there. I think we should at least give him a chance to be better. To prove to be better. He isn't the same as before, believe me. I was his girlfriend and there is a look in his eyes that wasn't there before." I explain.

"What did he go through?" Scott asks, I shake my head "I can't say exactly as its not my place if he wants to tell you he will but I will say that if anything would change him. It would be what he went through. Can we please give him one more chance and just put at least a little bit of trust in him?" I say.

Scott nods and says

"Okay, let's trust him"

A/n: I hope you like this, it took me about an hour to write as I kept getting distracted. Anyway let me know what you think about this and I'm sorry that I couldn't really remember much from the episodes but I tried my best. Anyway, remember you are loved and you are wanted. I love you and I hope you have a nice morning/evening/night. Bye bye.

#theo raeken imagine #theo raeken #teen wolf imagine #cody christian imagine #cody christian

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vodika-vibes · 7 months

Note

Hi! I'm pretty shy when it comes to asks but I love your writing and I was wondering if you'd be able to write a fluff piece for Atin Skirata with the prompt "i know you can't believe it yet, but i promise you can trust me. whenever you're ready to rely on me, i'll be here for you. i swear it." With him saying it?

Hihi! And I'm happy to write this request for you!

Trust Me

Summary: Atin Skirata wants to earn your trust, more than anything.

Pairing: Atin Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 998

Warnings: Badly depicted mentions of a panic attack

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: So, while I have had panic attacks before, I realized today that I can't quite put into words what I feel, so I am sorry if this doesn't feel quite right. Also, I'm sorry if this isn't quite what you wanted.

Divider by Saradika

War sucks. You know this. You’ve known this since you were a child trying to survive a civil war on your home planet. You’ve known this since you were forced into military service when you were a teenager.

You thought- hoped- that when you finally escaped your home planet that you would never have to deal with another war ever again.

And then an intergalactic war broke out that encompassed the entire galaxy.

It was like the gods or the force or whatever divine entity ruled the galaxy took one look at you, and said “fuck you in particular”.

At least you weren’t fighting in this war. No one was pressuring you into joining the military and fighting for the cause. Because, yeah, no. Not happening.

The downside, of course, is that the planet you now call home is home to a military garrison. A military garrison home to hundreds of soldiers, or more. And it’s not like you can just leave and find a planet without a military presence. Because apparently it doesn’t exist.

And it’s not like you hate the clones. Because you don’t. You don’t even hate soldiers.

It’s just that seeing men in armor carrying weapons sends a stab of panic through your very being, and you know that this is a trauma response to being a child soldier, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re absolutely terrified of the Republic Army.

Or, well, their armor?

You glance up when the bell hanging on the door to the shop chimes, and you grimace when you see several men in armor enter the shop. You send a mental curse to whichever deity hates you so much, and then you duck your head so you don’t have to look at them.

If you can’t see the armor, you probably won’t freak out. Maybe.

“Ah, there you are mesh’la,” You mentally release another curse as one of the clones steps over to you. There’s only one person who calls you that, and that’s only because you’ve been adamant about not telling him your name.

“I’m working,” You say to Atin bluntly.

“I can see that.” He sounds amused, “You’re not even going to look at me when I make today’s guess about your name?”

“Unless you have my datapad taped to your face, I really don’t see any reason to look up.” You reply.

“Wow, that must be some interesting work you’ve got there,” Atin jokes quietly.

“It’s work, it keeps me fed and a roof over my head.” You say lightly. It’s not so bad, talking to him when you can’t see his armor. Too bad he’s always wearing his armor.

And then there’s a crash from the back of the store and your head snaps up. A child in the back of the store bumped into an empty rack and knocked it over, but that’s not what caught your attention.

Your gaze is locked on the black armor standing right in front of you. Your ears are ringing. Your vision starts going gray around the edges as it becomes hard to breathe-

You stumble back away from the counter, “Have to go,” you gasp out to no one, or maybe to Atin, you’re not sure, and you stumble out the side door and into the alleyway, where you lean your head against the cool concrete.

The sound of blaster fire and explosives echo faintly in your ears, and your hands curl into fists as you try to ground yourself by dragging your knuckles against the bricks.

“Mesh’la?” A gloved hand sets on your back, between your shoulder blades, and you jerk in surprise and alarm.

You see black armor and several ugly curses fall from your lips as the panic increases to the point where you fear that you’re going to just stop breathing. You press your hand against the chest plate and push, and you’re momentarily surprised when the plate actually moves away.

You spin back against the wall, dragging your knuckles even more roughly down the bricks. The pain wasn’t grounding you like it normally did.

“Mesh’la?”

“Not helping,” You manage to ground out.

“How can I help?” Atin asks.

“Away. Just…Go.”

You’re vaguely aware of him moving away, but then you’re too focused on keeping yourself on your feet, and breathing, and not throwing up.

And then something warm presses against the back of your neck and something cold presses against your lips, “Open.”

An order, easy to follow, and you part your lips for the cold thing.

And then you realize that there’s ice in your mouth, the biting cold snapping you back to yourself faster than anything ever before. Atin is standing next to you, his hand on the back of your neck, and he’s…not wearing his armor?

You shoot him a puzzled look, and a wry smile crosses his face, “I realized that my armor was making things worse, mesh’la. So I took off the chest plate.”

You eye him suspiciously for a moment. You don’t hate him, but you also don’t trust him.

And Atin’s smile becomes even more wry, as he pulls his hand away from your neck and presses a cup full of ice into your hands, “I know you can't believe it yet, but I promise you can trust me. Whenever you're ready to rely on me, I'll be here for you. I swear it.”

“Why?” You ask, bewildered.

Atin shrugs, “Under all that armor, I’m just a guy, mesh’la. Is it so weird that I want you to look at me?”

You look even more puzzled, and he smiles at you, “You should go back inside, I pulled my brothers out. No one will go inside in armor anymore, I promise.”

“Oh…thank you.”

“I want you to like me, love. If that means making all of my brothers' lives a little more complicated…well, I’m happy to do it.” Atin smiles and guides you back to the door, “I’ll come and see you later.”

#star wars #tcw #atin skirata x reader #atin x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

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harrywavycurly · 2 years

Note

Going off the sweet home Alabama thing I’d legit kill for some random arguments or bickering from Eddie and the reader like give me them fighting like an old married couple Sarah!!🤣💕

Hello babes!! I am obsessed with the idea of Eddie and you being together since like middle school so you two just know exactly how to annoy me another😂 so enjoy babes!!💖

-also this is VERRRYY dramatic lol lots of cussing and bickering but it’s what I imagine it would be like being married to Eddie for a long ass time would be like if you’ve know him your whole life✨

*Eddie swears you’re the one person he’s ever felt like strangling while also wanting to kiss but hey that’s married life right? Lol*

“What in the actual fuck is this?” “It’s light beer.” “Why’s it in our fridge?” “Because you like to drink beer after work and I am a nice wife and make sure you’re never out.” “If you were a nice wife you wouldn’t buy this beer flavored water.” “You’ll get used to it Eddie don’t be so dramatic.” “I know you’re not calling me dramatic when you’re the one who was yelling at me from the porch yesterday about not having any coffee creamer.” “I wouldn’t have had to do that if you weren’t such an asshole and used the last of it and didn’t tell me while I was at the store and could’ve gotten more.” “So this is payback is that it? I used your creamer so you buy me watered down beer?” “Oh just shut up and drink the damn beer Edward.”

“Can I ask you a question?” “Sure baby what’s up?” “Do your hands work?” “What? Yeah they work…” “okay so why can’t you use them to load your fucking dishes into the dishwasher?” “I was in a rush this morning and forgot to put my bowl in the dishwasher I’m sorry.” “Are you in a rush right now?” “I might be…depending on if you’re about to yell at me or not…” “go look in the sink Eddie and tell me who’s shit is in there.” “I’m just gonna take a wild guess and say mine?” Ding ding! You’re the winner Mr. Munson!” “You’re on fire tonight baby.” “I’m about to light a damn fire under your ass if you don’t go in there and do this dishes.” “All you had to do was ask me to do the dishes sweetheart.” “I did…over an hour ago.” “Oh…shit.”

“I just said I like the blue one better that’s all.” “But I’m wearing the red one so why would you bother telling me you like the other dress better when I’m clearly not wearing it?” “Because you asked me if I liked the blue or the red one…” “god you’re so annoying haven’t you learned anything by now?” “I’ve learned plenty. Mainly that you’re fucking ridiculous and always want to ask me my opinion on your outfit when we are already running late to our dinner reservation.” “I’m ridiculous? You’re the one who just told me you didn’t like my outfit.” “I didn’t say that. I just said I like the blue one better.” “But I’m not wearing the blue one.” “I’m fucking aware of that baby I do have eyes that work perfectly fine.” “Oh good so you’ll be able to find your way to the couch tonight just fine.” “I’m not sleeping on the couch because you asked me a trick question.” “Oh yes you are.” “You really sometimes make me consider jail time.” “You’d look horrible in country orange.” “I can’t stand you.” “Yes you can now come help me unzip this so I can put the blue one on you asshole.”

“I didn’t do anything.” “Really? So the car just magically got a dent the size of California on the front bumper on its own?” “Yup.” “Baby just tell me what happened okay?” “Our neighbor doesn’t take his fucking trash cans in and I was leaving for the store and it just came out of nowhere.” “A trashcan…that doesn’t even have wheels on it…just came out of nowhere?” “Yes Eddie…don’t fucking laugh at me you asshole.” “Now were you putting on your damn chapstick when this trashcan just jumped into the middle of the road?” “Maybe…” “You’re gonna be the death of me I just know it.” “Only if you’re lucky.” “You gotta be more careful baby. Both eyes on the road when you’re driving okay?” “Yeah yeah I know.” “If you know then why did you go head to head with a trashcan and barley win?” “I mean have you seen the trashcan? I totally won that fight.” “I’d hope so.” “We also might owe Mr. Thomas a new trashcan…” “Of course we do.” “Don’t look at me like that it was an accident.” “You need to have your license taken away.” “Says the one who ran over a whole nativity scene once and didn’t think to stop so the poor snowman display also got massacred.” “Oh come on I was fifteen.” “So? It doesn’t change the fact it happened.” “You’re the one who acts like you get bonus points for ever curb you hit and don’t get me started on how many times you’ve ran out of gas in the middle of the road because you never check the tank before leaving the house.” “Well I wouldn’t have to check if my husband did a better job of keeping the tank full for me.” “Filling your gas tank wasn’t in the vows baby.” “I didn’t think I needed to add it…” “that’s what you get for thinking.” “That was rude Edward Munson.” “Sorry baby I love you…what are you doing? Put the phone down baby…there’s no need to call Wayne.” “Uncle Wayne…yeah…he just called me stupid.” “Oh fuck…”

#husband Eddie munson #eddie munson concept #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson request #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson #my little dungeon master baby #eddie munson drabble

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moonlit-positivity · 3 months

Text

Things I wish I knew before healing, part 2

• nobody is coming to save you. Except that's not entirely true either. Not in the way youd think. If you're looking for someone to hold you, coddle you, change your dirty diapers, and do the work for you? Nah these mfs can't baby sit a grown ass adult. But that is a very valid feeling. I can't tell you how much I bitched and moaned in the beginning. I literally told my therapist one time, "I want someone to change my fuckin diapers!" Lol 😭 the hard thing about being abused as a child is that there is never anyone there to care for you on that deeper level. And the hardest part about growing up this way, is that there never will be. Not in the way of this fantasy of wanting someone to be fully enmeshed with your brain enough to know what it is you want and need without you ever needing to open your mouth and say it out loud. No. That's not how people are gonna save you. But they will save you in an entirely different way. They will let you know when youre making a mistake. My therapist has helped me in ways I would have never even fuckin imagined humanity would be able to help someone. And she's not the only one. I'm lucky and blessed and privileged to have had a few good case managers and help from people who work for the city I live in. These people have helped me in ways that others couldn't. They gave me a backbone to stand up and get the work done for myself. They helped me understand this during the hardest fucking rude awakening I have ever had about life in general. And that is, that no one on this earth is entitled to taking care of you. Nah. In my case tho they still wouldn't even if I wanted em to, bc I already kinda knew that from growing up with my mother. I would have never been able to outright ask someone to love me. Not with the awareness of what my mother put me through and the constant fear of becoming just like she was to me. But there comes a time when you gotta stop bitching and whining about how unfair it is and learn how to get up and move anyway. And tbh, I'm still not entirely there yet. It's not an easy thing to learn. But I know a helluva lot more now than I have ever known in my entire life, and that means a whole fuckin lot to me right now. I literally started out from under ground zero, like -65 if you wanna be specific. I had to crawl through the gutters just to get where the fuck I am today. I fuckin carved that shit out all by myself. I fuckin did that. And I'm proud as fuck of where I stand today.

• there is going to be times when you literally cannot talk about it anymore. I can't tell you this without explaining that I am the type of person who would want to immediately snap my fingers and expect the immediate response, to have that quick fix solution. Nah. Patience is an acquired skill. Not to toot my own horn here, but God fuck if I had ever known that before starting therapy I swear to God I don't think I woulda made it through. I have such an aversion to pain and suffering bc of what I went through as a kid, but the pain of healing is unlike anything you will ever experience. Because unlike being abused, healing feels good. Healing feels like someone is purifying your soul in a pure light. And your soul is filled with anger and bitterness and pain. So trusting that light is fucking nuts to say the least. There are times when someone telling you it's not your fault will absolutely break you down into a million fuckin pieces. Not because it hurts, though yeah it does hurt a lot because that's not something anyone has ever told you before and there's the pain around why these mfs have never fuckin told you that. But it also hurts because it feels good to be finally listened to, heard, seen, and validated by another fucking human being on the face of the earth. And you won't want to believe it at first either. But eventually they'll keep saying it to you. Over and over. And eventually there will come a point when you finally lose your shit behind it and deal with the brainwashing coming undone to understand exactly what it is you've had to go through. And then there comes a time when you just can't talk about it the same way anymore. It changes you. It makes you see things about yourself and about the people around you and about this world in general that you've never even thought about before. And that's a whole lotta fuckton to sit with in itself.

• things gonna get better. And it's gonna scare the absolute piss and shit out of you when it does. The silence of peace and serenity is first filled with panic and survival on a whole different level than anyone will ever tell you about. The peace and silence of serenity feels like madness. It feels like youve been living underground your whole life and now you're above ground and everything is new and fuckin terrifying and you don't actually wanna live here, you wanna crawl back underground because it's more familiar and "safer" to you that living above ground is. And this is actually a normal feeling a lot of us go through I've noticed. Talking with other survivors can definitely help give you a sense of normalcy to what you're going through. But my god that urge to go back to the abuse and pain and suffering is so fuckin real. It's all you ever know. Trusting peace to not be a fuckin trap? That takes a lot of pain in itself.

• which brings me to this point. Every single thing about this process is a fucking pain in the ass. You've been beat, abused, gaslit into believing you are the devil incarnate by your parents. Your first ever caregivers, your first ever human experiences, have you believing you are the dog shit underneath their feet. They spend your entire childhood abusing you. Then you finally leave them behind and now you gotta find out they fuckin abused you???? My God. There is nothing about this shit that is gonna give you happy happy fun time play time vibes at all. That's fucked up beyond belief.

• youre gonna be pissed the fuck off all the time. My God if you're reading this and can relate, LOOK INTO SOMATIC HEALING. Give your body an outlet. And it doesn't have to be like exercise or yoga or any of that bullshit. Just shake your shoulders. Shake your arms. Shake your body. Let it move those big fuckin emotions and get it out. Somatics is all you ever fuckin need to get through this shit. Just find ways that it works for you. But yes. The anger and rage and betrayal is REAL. Don't fuckin beat yourself up for this shit. It's valid and it makes sense you'd be angry. LOOK AT WHAT THEY FUCKIN DID TO YOU.

• you're not faking your trauma, your symptoms, or your illnesses. There are real legitimate things happening in your brain and your body that affect the way you function day to day. The fact that there will be people in your life who will never fuckin understand that is a fucking war crime against yourself. Do yourself a favor and remove these people fuckin immediately. Anyone who dares question your life & illnesses & your right to fuckin exist???? Is a fuckin threat and you need to get them out NOW. You are not faking. You never fuckin were. Don't let anyone fill your head with doubt. Family, friends, therapists, doctors. NOBODY. find a second opinion. Find the doctor who's gonna listen and take you seriously when you ask about it and help get you the proper testing to find out. Do NOT settle for the doctors who tell you you're lying. Do NOT settle for the family that says youre lazy and selfish and entitled. Fuck those assholes. You know yourself better than they do. The fact that they even accuse you of lying to begin with is such a mindfuck in itself.

• there are gonna be times when the pain and regret of not knowing what the fuck you've already said and done is gonna suck the living energy from you. It's because well whaddya know. You've grown up a little bit. You might feel like it's a great thing to have the awareness and understanding now, and tbh yes it is! Don't detract from that point! But the people who have already been hurt from you aren't really gonna give a rats fuckin ass one way or another. And that's gonna hurt on so many levels, because yeah that's fair and valid. But holy fuck if i had known that before hand I swear to God things would have been so fuckin different. The thing about it is, people are listening to you, even when you don't think they are. I might go further into this sometime bc there are so many reasons as to why we don't think we matter as much to the people around us as they do actually care and listen. The words and actions you take (or don't take) will have a direct effect on those around you.

• life is not a fuckin game. God I wish someone had told me that a lot fuckin sooner. Take yourself seriously. Take your life seriously. This isn't the pregame show, this is the actual fuckin super bowl. Life is gonna hand you the epitome of fuck around and find out, and its gonna hit you hard if you're not prepared for that.

I will probably add more later. Thanks for reading 😊

#recovery #ptsd #trauma #mental health #boundaries #healing #healing thoughts #trauma recovery #trauma awareness #child abuse #childhood trauma #bpd #actually traumatized #life advice #advice #life lessons #self awareness #self actualization

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ma1dita · 3 months

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hi, I’m not a native speaker and also the schools in my country don’t have Shakespeare as a mandatory reading

so could you please explain that for us, non native speakers🙏

YES I WILL!!! GLADLY!!! *cracks knuckles* let's do this thing

swear on it i've always regretted not going for english lit as a college major...but the pull to public health got me

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself.

This stanza is from Scene 2 Act 2 of Romeo & Juliet, actually written in Juliet's perspective on how she regrets falling for Romeo, who is a Montague and part of a rival family. She talks aloud on her balcony (not knowing Romeo is listening in the bushes like a little freak) wondering if names really matter--- you could call a rose something else, but it doesn't take away from the identity of the rose as a beautiful thing (ex. if roses were called socks....you'd just think socks are beautiful too).

What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

Trouble laughs when Luke tells her this, because from a blind perspective, it might sound like names have importance and sounds sweet---but Percy corrects him, and trouble says the rest of the stanza to flirt back with Luke.

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself.

This part means that if Romeo went by another name, Juliet would still love him, because she fell in love with him as a person rather than his name and what he stands for (her as a Capulet & him as a Montague were forbidden to fall in love). Juliet finishes by saying 'Take all myself', which means to forget names and titles, and for Romeo to whisk her away instead.

Names, or rather...the glory attached to a name *cough* don't matter to trouble, because if it comes down to the end of everything and winning a war, she'd rather just be with him instead. She tells Luke this knowing he might not be able to interpret it, leaving him with a hidden message since...well...the events of The Lightning Thief happen during this arc, and she somewhat knows of how he feels about glory and the gods.

Was this okay? Don't hesitate to ask any more questions-- honestly as a bilingual person myself its more impressive to know more than less, y'know? I hope y'all enjoyed my rant and please let me know if there's anything I missed or if you want to see more things like this~~ Trouble's theater aspects as a Dionysus!kid are something I want to touch up on more but I only felt brave quite recently haha.

lots of love, thanks for reading!

#trouble!verse #yapping w nonnies #જ⁀➴ jo answers !

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salembutnotthecat · 6 months

Text

tw emeto, fever

introducing another new kid, but he’s related to vanessa and willow!

also additional tw for an empty threat of harming an animal (it is empty, it was only used as a motivator) just in case.

“How long are you going to keep knocking so… gently?” Vanessa asked.

They��d been standing outside the door of Willow’s friend and clinical partner, Milan Kovalev-Wang, for a solid thirty minutes.

“He wasn’t there for clinicals today,” Willow told Vanessa, “I just want to check on him.”

“How can you be friends with the guy your boyfriend cheated on you with?” Vanessa asked

“Ex boyfriend,” Willow corrected, “And it was easy, we already had something in common.”

“Right, because everyone wants to have a best friend where the common denominator is a shitty ex,” Vanessa said, “Fine, let’s go.”

Vanessa actually didn’t mind Milan. He was nice enough, and from how he and Willow seemed to act with each other, neither of them knew what Joseph was doing when he did it.

Vanessa still wanted to see Joseph’s head on a stick, for sure, especially after breaking Willow’s heart. But, Milan got a pardon in Vanessa’s book, at least for now.

“Well what do you suggest I do?” Willow said, “I don’t want to be rude I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He might not be able to hear you,” Vanessa said, “Wills, you need to be louder.”

“But won’t that bother the neighbors?” Willow asked, “You do it if you’re so certain how to make him answer.”

Vanessa needed no further permission, she knocked hard on the door.

“What’s his middle name?” Vanessa asked

“Nikita,” Willow said, “What are you-“

“Milan Nikita Kovalev-Wang, if you do not open this door I will personally break it down,” Vanessa yelled through the door, “I swear to god if you will not open this door I will personally skin Zvezda and turn his fur into a beanie.”

“Zvezda is just a kitten,“ Willow whined, “Leave him out of this.”

Vanessa held her hand up, pointing to the door.

Sure enough, the lock clicked. The door opened.

Milan leaned against the door frame, hair messy, scrubs wrinkled, and looking half out of it at best.

“You are such a ray of sunshine Vanessa Lillian McAllister,” Milan scoffed, tucking his mouth in his arm as he coughed.

“Well, I would be nicer if you answered your damn door,” Vanessa said, “Where’s my baby?”

“Zvezda is not your baby,” Milan said, allowing both girls in.

Vanessa sat on the floor, and Zvezda came out of his tree, going to Vanessa’s lap immediately.

“Right, forget that I feed you and Vanessa threatens to skin you,” Milan snapped at the cat.

“I threaten you that I will skin him, not him,” Vanessa said, petting Zvezda, “And for the record, that’s only when you make Willow panic.”

“You two are nauseating,” Milan said, groaning and placing his hand on his stomach, “Extra nauseating today.”

Willow rolled her eyes, before standing in front of Milan, carefully feeling his face for fever.

“I was just worried, you didn’t come to clinicals, and you weren’t answering your phone,” Willow said, “Or the door.”

“How long had you been out there?” Milan asked, heading into the kitchen in search of a small cup for water. Anything to make his throat hurt less and mouth taste even a little better.

“Not long,” Willow said, following him, “You should sit, you don’t look good at all Milan…”

“Thirty minutes,” Vanessa answered the question, holding Zvezda like a baby, the cat purring intensely and nestling up against her.

“I’ve been vomiting since like 2:30,” Milan said, “I was either actively getting sick or too exhausted to move off the floor.”

“This morning or-“ Willow started.

“Yesterday afternoon,” Milan said, “Nothing more embarrassing than losing your lunch in front of your supervisor while you’re supposed to be doing vital rounds.”

“Doctor Sanchez is really understanding,” Willow said, “I’m sure he didn’t think any less of you. Speaking of vitals…”

“You want me to tell you or you want to take them?” Milan asked.

“Well, why not both,” Willow said, “Where’s your kit?”

“In my room, on my dresser,” Milan said.

“Ness, my dear,” Willow said, “Can you grab it?”

“Yeah,” Vanessa said, trying to remove Zvezda from her person, where he had since crawled up her sleeve and rested awkwardly in a position that was mostly in her hood but clinging to the sleeve covering her shoulder, claws digging into her sweatshirt, “Zvezda is coming with…”

“Of course he is,” Milan said, turning to Willow, “Heart rate is elevated from dehydration and strain, no rebound tenderness anywhere, bp dipped around 4 this morning but that was after I’d thrown up for a solid… forty minutes with maybe thirty seconds to breathe between rounds.”

“And a fever that feels like it’s right on the borderline of home treatment and hospital treatment.” Willow said, “I’ll check you too, see if there’s anything concerning… well… more concerning.”

Vanessa set the kit on the table before heading back into the living room with Zvezda.

“You know, for an EMT, you sure hate treating people,” Willow teased over her shoulder as she got to work checking Milan’s vitals.

“First of all, license is expired,” Vanessa said, “Second of all, I can’t do much when you’re working on him too. And third, I’m being blessed by a cat being affectionate and you’re just mad.”

“I’m mad you’re not giving me affection, there’s a difference,” Willow answered.

“Did you not hear me when I said you two are nauseating?” Milan said.

“Someone is anti romantic,” Willow said, “What happened to that Leo kid?”

“Nothing good,” Milan said, leaning back.

Willow grabbed the stethoscope, listening to Milan’s heart rate and then hesitating slightly before listening to his stomach.

Milan could feel the nausea in his throat, forcing him to swallow hard and take a deep breath.

“Well, no appendicitis, stomach virus most likely, IJessica had one, Hayley too… me and then Vanessa got it from me,” Willow said.

“And I’m still not happy about it,” Vanessa said, shaking a feather toy for Zvezda, the small bells jingling as Vanessa talked.

Willow rolled her eyes, putting Milan’s stuff on the table, “I’ll disinfect those..”

“I don’t feel good,” Milan said, a sick hiccup jolting his chest.

“Yeah, she just said you had a stomach virus you idiot,” Vanessa said.

“As endearing as your sarcasm is,” Milan started, but his words were lost in a gag, prompting him to cover his mouth.

“Oh, shoot,” Willow sighed, “Come on let’s-“

She went to help him stand. But he’d already darted off as his feet were on the ground.

Milan lurched towards the bathroom, his steps hurried and unsteady. Willow trailed closely behind, her brow furrowed with worry.

Each retch wracked Milan's body, his throat raw and his breaths shallow. Willow swiftly soaked a soft cloth in cool water, tenderly dabbing his clammy forehead. She could feel the tremors coursing through his body, his muscles strained from the relentless assault of sickness.

"Deep breaths, Milan," Willow whispered, trying to ease his distress. "It'll pass. Just try to breathe."

Vanessa peeked around the corner, her eyes reflecting her concern. "Do you need anything?"

Milan shook his head weakly, still clutching the edge of the toilet. "Just... water."

Swiftly, Willow fetched a glass of water and a small bowl, placing them within Milan's shaky reach. She knelt beside him, her touch gentle as she rubbed his back in slow, reassuring circles.

After what seemed like an eternity, the intense spasms of sickness began to relent, leaving Milan drained and utterly spent.

Milan practically collapsed against the wayy, leaning against the cool bathroom tile, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Maybe you should lie down," Vanessa suggested, her voice tinged with concern.

Willow nodded in agreement. "Let's get you settled in bed. You need to drink and try to rest."

Assisted by Willow and Vanessa, Milan shuffled back to his room, collapsing onto the welcoming softness of his bed with a weary sigh. Willow handed him the glass of water, urging him to take small, soothing sips.

"Rest now," Willow murmured, after Milan seemed to struggle to simply drink some water. She brushed his sweaty curls off his face.

“I’ll be right here, okay?” Willow said.

“I don’t mind helping him,” Vanessa said, “But, does he have anyone else? Like in general.”

Willow shook her head, “His dad’s in the military, his mom is a porn star, so neither of them are around a lot. His dad wishes he went to the military too, and his mom is, well, his mom,” Willow said, rubbing the sleeping Milan’s shoulder steadily, a continuous pattern of comfort for her friend.

“And then, I mean Milan is always studying or working,” Willow said, “The only person he might’ve had was Joseph. Before we knew what Joseph was doing to us. And unless Joseph was a real different man than when I was with him…”

“He wouldn’t have been much help either,” Vanessa said, “I remember that much of the little shit.”

“Yeah, so, just me,” Willow said.

A sick growl came from Milan’s stomach, followed by a soft whine.

Willow sighed, continuing to rub his shoulder.

Willow exchanged a worried glance with Vanessa, both understanding the gravity of the situation. Milan lay there, pallid and weakened by the illness coursing through his body. His vulnerability pulled at Willow's heartstrings; she knew she had to do something more to ease his discomfort.

Willow was a med student. And she knew she couldn’t be so emotionally attached in the emergency room, but when it came to her loved ones, it killed her to see them suffer.

Vanessa sighed, “Let's see if we can find something light for him to eat. Either it’ll calm down his stomach or he’ll have something to come up. I’ll check his kitchen."

Willow stayed close to Milan, softly murmuring words of reassurance to him as Vanessa hurried into the kitchen, scanning the cabinets and fridge for anything that might soothe his queasy stomach. Amidst sparse supplies, she managed to unearth a sleeve of crackers.

Returning to the room, Vanessa offered the crackers to Willow. Willow took them, nudging Milan awake.

"Here," Willow said gently, propping Milan up slightly. "Try to eat a little. It might settle your stomach.”

“Or give you something to throw up so your stomach stops sounding like that,” Vanessa shrugged.

Milan weakly reached for a cracker, nibbling at it hesitantly. His stomach gurgled in protest, he could taste water and acid in the back of his throat.

"Good job," Willow encouraged, even though he froze in terms of nibbling the cracker, her voice soft and comforting. "Just take it slow."

Milan felt sick, and hot. He felt like he was boiling. A sure sign of his he most certainly was going to be sick again.

“Willow did you bring over the trash….” Milan started. He felt like he couldn’t move, if he got up now he’d vomit all over the rug in his bedroom, or the hallway.

“Yeah,” Willow nodded, turning and grabbing it, handing it over, going back to brush Milan’s bangs out of his face, “I always forget how curly your hair is…”

Milan wanted to laugh. But instead, his stomach lurched, and the traces of crackers quickly left his stomach, followed by the water. And then, acid and saliva.

Milan coughed, hard, heaving up small traces of bile with an abundance of saliva. Willow didn’t flinch, holding Milan up.

Vanessa started rubbing Milan’s back and also bracing him to make it so Willow wasn’t harboring the whole burden of Milan’s weight.

“Just take it easy,” Willow said, reassuring him, “You’ll be okay…”

#emeto #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #sickfic

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