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moccahobi · 2 years

Text

Buried Truths [Chapter 2]

Summery: A Jackson Wang party. Normally you wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. Tonight though, you were going to help your best friend, Youngjae, confess to his long term crush. He would be leaving the party tonight with a date. You didn’t expect to be forced to spend time with people you never wanted to see again. Oh, how many secrets would be revealed tonight?

Pairing: Youngjae x Jaeboem, Acesexual!Reader x Jinyoung (somewhat?)

Rating: 17+

Series warnings: gore, mildly toxic actions

Word Count: 3.2k

Genre: Supernatural AU, horror, angst, alcohol

A/N: This fic is not focused on romance. There is a romantic side plot but this is a thriller/horror/supernatural centric fic. Also! This is the first fic where I am talking about/show casing asexuality. As an ace person myself, I really love seeing ace representation and aim to write more fics that showcase ace relationships!

A/N2: Thank you so so much to @ssaboala for reading this fic over for me! Her comments and assurance helped me so much!

Chapter 1 < Masterlist > Chapter 3 (finale)

“You got really scared.”

“Of course! I was… and now the door isn’t opening. Can one of you try to open the door on the other side?”

The door jiggled, “I can’t open it.” Yugyeom said, his voice full of worry as he tried again.

“What? No. No. No. It should open.” Bambam said, worry growing in his voice as he surged forward to try to open the door.

“It looks locked. Maybe it was slightly unlocked or the door automatically locks… I saw a bunch of keys at the entrance.” It was Jaeboem, his voice getting more distant as he walked towards the entrance.

You sat on the top step of the basement, trying to ignore the sea of darkness that was the basement at your feet as you took deep breaths. Coming in here was a mistake. Coming into this house was a mistake. Seeing Jinyoung again was a mistake.

Bambam sat next to you, his breathing unsteady as he shifted uncomfortably, “I am sorry. I am so sorry. I didn’t think this would happen… I didn’t even realize you were here.”

“What?”

“Most of the guys don’t give me any attention… I wanted to see some of them show care to me for once…”

Anger bubbled in you as you realized what he did. He locked you both in… well… he slammed the door on you both. He looked scared though.

“I-- You closed this door on us?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Listen… You seemed to be accepted right away into this friend group… I didn’t. I am Jinyoung’s friend and I think Jackson likes me some… The others though? I don’t know. They seem to care for me when I am hurt or scared though,” Bambam spared you a glance before looking back into the basement, “Youngjae seems to dislike me most. I’m sure you know that he doesn’t like me much though.”

You were flustered at that, “O-Oh. I-”

“He vents about you sometimes. Nothing major… just the occasional complaint about you. I figured that if he vents about you, someone he likes, he probably vents about me since I am someone he doesn’t like.”

“I--” You sighed. What were you supposed to tell him?

That Youngjae found him absolutely annoying and felt he wasn’t part of the friend group? That Youngjae often vented about Bambam’s work competency? That Youngjae was tired of Bambam always being around?

“I am sorry. He can be a little judgemental sometimes.”

Bambam nodded, “Youngjae cares a lot about his friends and I admire that a ton. He seems to be faily defensive of his friends as well.”

“And opinionated,” You hesitated… were you about to tell this near stranger something you hadn’t been able to tell anyone yet? “I dropped out of college last year and haven’t had the energy to tell him yet. I know what he’ll say and I am not ready for it. I’ve not told anyone… but you now. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. That’d be an asshole thing for me to do. I won’t tell anyone what you said about your bestie.” Bambam laughed and bumped shoulders with you, “How come you dropped out?”

“College is rough. I was a pre-med major since my parents wanted me to become a doctor, but I never wanted to be one. Didn’t even want to go to college but I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life and my parents had a plan.”

“That sounds frustrating.”

“It was and last year, I was really struggling. Pre-med is hard. I am not a science person. I figured if I dropped out and picked up some odd jobs while acting like I was still in school, I’d eventually find something and be able to tell people then.”

“Have you?”

“No. I’m a bartender and waitress right now… I barely have time to indulge in my hobbies.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be. I chose this path… I get to deal with the consequences of it.”

Bambam nodded, “I am sorry for locking you in here.”

You laughed, “Don’t stress. As long as the lights work, I am fine. Besides, this place is much smaller and I feel sa-” You stopped talking as you felt something feather light brush against your calf. You readjusted your leg, moving it slightly away from the basement stairs.

What the fuck?

“You feel safe here despite the basement being right in front of us?” Bambam laughed, leaning back as he looked around the small space, “I guess the space is nice and there isn’t much to keep an eye on.”

Nodding, you leaned forward, looking down the stairs and trying to find whatever brushed your leg… Nothing.

Maybe it was dust or a spider web?

“Yeah… It is nicer--”

What felt like a hand gripped your ankle tightly, yanking you harshly. You found yourself tumbling down the basement stairs, screaming and trying to grab onto anything that would slow your descent. All the while, your head bounced against the stairs like a hollow basketball. Whatever was dragging you let go as you landed roughly on the hard concrete floor of the basement, leaving you breathless and in pain.

“Noona! Are you ok?” Bambam shouted, his steps as he ran down the stairs heavy and booming in your head. When he reached you, he gingerly helped you up.

“I think so?” You started, wincing as you tried to stand up, the ankle that whatever grabbed you touched was hurting to stand on, “I don’t know… I am in a lot of pain. Am I bleeding?”

Bambam shook his head, about to say something when rough knocking came at the door.

“Y/n-ah! Are you ok?” Jackson’s voice sounded far away from in the basement. He sounded worried as well and it made you feel conflicted. He’d never shown you worry before… but you had made a lot of noise coming down so it was in theory natural that he would be worried about you. You were his sister and he wasn’t heartless.

“I-I think I am! Did you all find the key?” You shouted back, not daring to try walking yet.

“We’ve found some but none have worked on the door.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“Do you think you can help me up the stairs?” You asked Bambam.

“I am sorry, Noona. I don’t think I am strong enough to. I think maybe Jackson or Jinyoung will be able to help you up.”

You nodded, gingerly rotating your ankle to test the throbbing pain. It was most definitely sprained.

“Huh… We don’t have cellular out here.” Bambam remarked as he turned on his phone’s flashlight and slowly looked around the space. It was odd that you didn’t have cellular… you weren’t far from the other house nor were you really out in the nature yet somehow, cellular wasn’t here. It probably wasn’t a big deal. This house was probably in a random blackout spot but the idea of no cellular still left you feeling a little sick.

Bambam barely moved around at first as he cautiously looked at the many dusty items that were in the basement, eventually moving around some. A dresser, some dark colored curtains that were hung up on the wall, and way too many boxes with more stuff. The stuff was covered in a ton of dust that blanketed the space and seemed to sparkle in the flashlight beam.

Above them, they heard the creaky footsteps of the others trying to find a way to open the door. Muddles conversations happening as someone shared good news also leaked through the floorboards.

Was Youngjae using this time to confess to Jaeboem?

Would you want your best friend to be confessing instead of trying to save you?

Part of you felt excited at the idea of Youngjae might be confessing right now. He’d been trying for over a year to get the courage to. Somehow, if the worry of you hurt in a basement made it feel less scary or loosened his lips, maybe that was good. Another part of your mind whispered that if he was confessing, was he spending much time trying to save you? Was he even worried about it?

You took a deep breath and sighed. Of course he cared for you. Of course he was worried about you.

“Yoooo! Noona! Look! This closet is full of kid dresses! I wonder where the kid is now!” Bambam said excitedly, breaking your thoughts as he flicked through the dusty garments.

You hobbled over, looking at the faded fabrics with their intricate sewn on details. Whoever this child was, they lived a very fancy life. This house was big and it was the second house on this property, these fancy dresses cemented the wealth of the child’s family. As you examined a specific dress more closely, Bambam started to look around again. He paused and hit your shoulder lightly.

“What?”

“N-Noona? Can you turn around for me?” His voice wavered as he started to shuffle backwards, his back brushing against the children’s clothes.

Slowly, you turned around, looking at Bambam questioningly.

“Do you see something moving in the shadows?”

You looked out, the darkness swirling as you tried to adjust and look out. Nothing seemed to be moving, not even the dusty curtains that were facing you. That was shocking because they rested on a rusty bar that looked like a few harsh movements of moving air would make it topple.

“I do-”

Something moved.

It was in the corner of your eye but as you and Bambam looked over, a small trinket that had been resting on top of one of the boxes, was wobbling around. Bambam squeaked and ran behind you, your body eclipsing his flashlight as he hid. Stealing up all your confidence, you gently took Bambam’s phone and slowly walked up to the trinket.

It was a children’s toy.

A faded wooden car with two of its wheels missing. It wobbled on the box as if trying to rebalance itself.

“M-Maybe it was w-wind?” You asked, reaching out and grabbing the car to stabilize it.

“Sure Jan, and I am totally not scared right now. I think Yugyeom was right. There’s a ghost here.” Bambam says as he looks at the car in your hands, trying to see if there was something going on that would lead to it moving so much.

Right as you opened your mouth to speak, the door banged open. Its handle hit the wall with an audible crack! Bambam and you jumped at the sound and you dropped the car, frozen in place as people started rushing down stairs.

Jackson is the first to make it down the stairs, jumping down the last three steps as he rushed to your side, “Y-n-ah! Are you ok?” He asked, looking you over worriedly.

“I am fine.” You said, his hands feeling like fire on your skin, his worry a foreign presence in your life. It made you feel a little sick at the thought of how caring he was acting.

Why was he so worried now?

What gave him the right when for so long he’s been distant from you?

“You absolutely are not fine. Your ankle is at the very least sprained.” Bambam said, eyeing you and Jackson.

“I would be worried about a concussion as well. I heard a lot of bumping on your fall down. You took quite a fall, Y/n-ssi.” Jaeboem said when he joined the group, Youngjae quickly rushing over and hugging you tightly as Jaeboem spoke.

“Let’s get you out. I can help you up the stairs.” Youngjae said, hooking his arm under yours as he started walking towards the stairs slowly.

You looked back and watched as a sad look grew on Bambam’s face as he watched Youngjae help you away on his own. As you turned your eyes forward, you caught Jackson’s gaze, worry written all over his face.

God.

Tonight is becoming messier by the second… and you are in a haunted house.

Were you going to survive tonight?

Youngjae and you slowly hobbled up the stairs and despite your eyes focused on the steps you were taking, you felt the eyes of people all around you. Their gazes felt unnatural and creepy on you, your skin crawling under them. You were ready to go home, crash, and pretend tonight didn’t happen (aside from celebrating Youngjae and Jaeboem getting together)... and maybe see if Bambam wanted to become friends. Tonight could be a fever dream that, with repeated retelling, you completely rewrite.

With a content sigh, Youngjae set you down in a rickety chair in the main living space, the moist smell of mildew greeting you as you sunk into the chair. Jinyoung dragged over a table with a painful SCREECH and gently guided your legs up to rest on the table.

“Does it hurt to put pressure on your foot?” He asked, his hands gently holding and checking your ankle. His touch felt scalding on your skin and in any other situation, you would have quickly yanked your foot away from him. Tonight though, you found your energy waning.

You nodded, when he looked up at you, refusing to speak. Given, you didn’t have energy or strength to talk to him right now. The guilt over Jackson and Bambam was starting to choke you and you had no idea if you could control what you said to Jinyoung if you spoke.

“It is starting to swell as well,” He got up and got closer to you, he reached out before stopping, “Does your head hurt?”

Did it?

You didn’t have a headache. Slowly, you reached up and started to feel around your head, fear of blood or a tender spot rising in your throat.

With great relief, you felt no pain and shook your head.

“That’s good. You may still want to get checked out but unless there is another spot you’re feeling a lot of pain, it may just be a badly sprained ankle.”

“I am glad. With how fast you fell down those stairs, I was worried, noona.” Bambam said, coming closer and eyeing your ankle.

You avoided Youngjae’s eyes as you nodded, “I… I don’t remember even hitting my ankle on anything. I don’t know how it got sprained… but it did feel like someone grabbed my ankle.”

“Bambam-ah, did you see anyone else in the basement?” Jackson asked, as Mark walked towards the basement door and looked down the stairs. If he saw more than the swirling darkness that bathed the basement, he didn’t react.“No… Not a person… I um… I did see some shadows move though… but I didn’t see a person.”

Youngjae scoffed, “It was a small basement, you probably saw part of your shadow on another wall. Did you see a shadow, Y/n-ah?”

All eyes were on you then and it felt like they were short circuiting your mind as you tried to think of what happened back in the basement. You saw a shadow… right? Was it just your mind? Or one of your own shadows?

Did you even see one?

Your brain was getting fuzzy as you tried to think back to the basement. You were pulled down, Bambam came, the two of you walked around, you saw a little car toy… Was there a shadow?

“I-I don’t know.” You said slowly, looking at everyone.

Bambam was looking at you with hurt etched into his face as Youngjae laughed humorlessly, “I think you were seeing stuff then, Bambam-ah.”

Youngjae’s laugh cut through you, hurting you more than your ankle was. You couldn’t handle it and you couldn’t forget how rude Youngjae was being. This wasn’t like him… even if he was a little snarky sometimes.

“I d-don’t think he was seeing st-stuff.”

“You said yourself that you didn’t see anyone though!” Youngjae said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up as he spoke loudly.

“And I believe Bambam-ah.”

Yugyeom coughed, “Shadows or not, Y/n might need medical attention. We should leave.”

Jaeboem nodded.

“Wait! If it is just a sprained ankle, can we have her rest for a little while longer? I would love to explore a little more. Just fifteen or so minutes. Nothing too long.” Bambam asked, his eyes wide and lips in a big pout as he looked around at everyone and pleaded.

“No. Y/n needs to leave.” Youngjae said, moving towards you to lift you up.

Bambam looked over at you with his puppy dog eyes as he clasped his hands together in a plea to stay just a little longer.

You sighed and shook your head, “I’ll be fine with another fifteen minutes here. Don’t worry about me. If my ankle gets worse or I feel more pain elsewhere, I’ll say and we can leave.”

Jackson looked like he was about to protest but before he could, Jinyoung stood up, patting you on the shoulder, “Listen, I’m the only one certified in first aid. Y/n-ah will be fine. Let’s keep exploring. I know I have another place I want to explore myself. Bambam-ah, how about you join me?”

Bambam nodded excitedly as a smile spread on his face. Jinyoung and Bambam started to walk deeper into the house, Mark quickly jogging to catch up to them. The tension that filled the room was palpable as you and Youngjae looked at each other with questioning gazes, neither wanting to back down.

“Yugyeom-ah, Jackson-ah, want to see a giant study Youngjae and I found? It is super cool! With tons of books.” Jaeboem said, seperating from Youngjae to get closer to the other guys still in the room, an awkward smile that didn’t meet his eyes plastered on his face.

“Sure. Plus, I think that Youngjae and Y/n will want some alone time to talk.” Yugyeom said as he shot you two an annoyed glance, his words finally making you look away in shame.

Tonight has been borderline traumatic and knowing that you’re getting on everyone’s nerves is making it one hundred times worse. You’d wanted to make friends… not make your best friend’s friend group hate you.

When Jackson, Yugyeom, and Jaeboem finally left, you sighed deeply and shook your head. You were tired and even though you were fine with being here for another fifteen minutes, you wanted to go home. The soft blankets and fluffy pillows on your bed were calling to you… so was the start of a new day. Maybe you’d wake up and find out that you had gotten blackout drunk and this was all a stupid ass dream.

“Are you and Bambam friends now?” Youngjae asked, his voice small as he looked at you. He looked nervous and small now, which was much different from his borderline angry expression earlier.

“He seems like a cool person.” You shrugged, refusing to look at Youngjae. This was a new side of him and with all the guilt today, you didn’t know if you could handle this side.

On any other day, you might’ve gotten so excited. Youngjae didn’t open up to you tons and while there was some reason he was so closed off, it hurt that he was so closed off. Especially because he was the only person you told some stuff to. He knew you had a tense relationship with your family, that you dropped out of college, that you worked at a bar, and that you recently realized you were aroace. He knew all that and more. He knew every vulnerable thing about you, yet he was only ever vulnerable to you once: When he told you that he had a crush on Jaeboem.

“Yeah. He does seem cool… but I am cooler right?” His voice sounded hopeful as he asked and it made you feel sick.

“That’s what you’re worried about? If you’re cooler to me than some dude I met today? One, you’re my best friend, of fucking course you’re cooler in my eyes. Two, him being cool doesn’t excuse how rude you’ve been to Bambam since we’ve exited the basement. He’s been nothing but kind and caring to me. I get you find him annoying but-”

“I don’t find him annoying.” Youngjae sighed, “He’s cool. I know he is… I just… I am close to Jaeboem hyung and Mark hyung but I am not that close to others in the group. Bambam gets along with everyone… sure sometimes it felt more forced to me but I guess it didn’t to others? Jinyoung is a bit of a tsundere if you’ve noticed and yet he warmed right up to Bambam! I’ve been trying to get close to Jinyoung forever and yet I just can’t seem to.”

His words shocked you. They hung in the air and clung to you with desperation as you processed everything he was saying. Insecure in his place in the group? Worried about someone replacing him?

Youngjae hesitated before moving closer and resting his hand on your knee, “I don’t know why but with most people, it feels like there’s a wall up between me and them. If it weren’t for you and Jaebeom and Mark making the first steps for stuff, I probably wouldn’t have gotten so close to you all.”

“I am sure that isn’t true at all, Oppa. You managed to ask Jaeboem out, right? I thought I heard that from the basement.” You said, pulling him onto your lap as the chair groaned in protest.

Your ankle was already sprained. The chair breaking on you wouldn’t be the end of the world, especially when Youngjae was being this vulnerable. You hugged him tightly, trying to give all your love and admiration to him through it.

“He asked me out. I didn’t.”

“Ok? And? You two are going on a date later, right?”

He nodded.

“So you’re crossing that barrier. Who invited you here?”

“Jackson hyung.”

“So he wanted you to come and you took the step to get closer. That’s saying something, Oppa.”

“He invited Bambam too… I found out earlier tonight. I just assumed Bambam came as a plus one… God. I’ve been such an asshole to Bambam.”

You laughed at that and pinched Youngjae’s arm, “You have been a bit of one tonight. I can’t comment on anything before tonight, but maybe you can reflect on your interactions and apologize to him?”

“Y/n-ahhhhh, why would you say that word to meeee.” Youngjae whined with a light giggle, “You know me and apologize don’t go well together.”

“Well, I think it needs to. Bambam is part of your friend group afterall. Plus, I think you two would get along if you got out of your head and gave him a chance.”

Youngjae sighed deeply, “You’re right. I will. Thank you for listening.”

“Of course I’m right,” You laughed and hugged Youngjae tighter, “And I am here for you. Always.”

“I am glad. Now… do you want to hear about how Jaeboem hyung asked me out?” He giggled excitedly as he asked, the chair squeaking loudly against the floor as he adjusted in your lap, launching into his small speel about it.

You were excited, genuinely, as he spoke about Jaeboem and him slowly walking into study of the place. They'd lightly talked about their life before Jaeboem suddenly shifted the conversation to dates. Jaeboem was the one who eventually asked Youngjae out. It was fun to watch as Youngjae’s eyes lit up in excitement. Somehow, the conversation evolved into him rambling about future dates he might plan.

A particularly strong stab of pain in your ankle tore you from your excitement. You were hurt and tired… and not once has Youngjae asked. Sure, he helped you up and you professed to the group that you were ok but… he was your best friend and not once when alone did he ask.

But he’d been dealing with a lot too! The conversation on his mind was a natural reason for him to blank on checking in again on you after you so explicitly stated that you were ok. It was understandable that something like you acting more ok than you were would slip his mind, he opened up some about not being ok.

Were you being selfish? Had you overreacted? Was he not thinking past himself? All could be true… but that didn’t stop the guild that once again started to brew turbulently in your stomach. Tonight was such a mixed bag and you just wanted to leave before much else happened.

Holding back a sigh, you nodded absentmindedly to what Youngjae was saying as you started to look around the main space. The living space was less dusty than the basement but there was still tons of dust in their air. You could see that in the thin slivers of moonlight that shone through the house. Maybe it had been as dusty as the basement but because of all the movement, the dust has been moved around… and you hadn’t noticed when you entered the house originally. You slowly traced up the stairs, past the few broken steps and up to the second floor, trying to see if there was more dust on the second floor.

You couldn’t tell though, the space too dark.

Wait--

Was that a light?

Squinting to see better, you noticed a small light flash from the balcony on the second floor. It flickered in and out, a few other small specks of light joining it. If it wasn’t for how cold of a tone the light was, you might’ve guessed that it was fireflies taking advantage of the abandoned house for safe shelter. Plus, the lights seemed to be present for much longer than fireflies are and moved around too much.

You watched carefully, the rest of the world melting away as the lights slowly became much more present.

Jaeboem moved in front of where the small lights were, asking something of Youngjae that you completely missed as you slowly refocused on the world around you.

“Y/n-ah, Jaeboem and I are going to look through the kitchen cabinets. Do you want to stay here or join?” He asked, a large smile on his face as he got up to hold Jaeboem’s hand.

“I’ll stay here. You two have fun.” You said, trying to muster up all your energy to sound excited… though you didn’t know if you did.

That being said, it must’ve convinced Jaeboem and Youngjae because they nodded and walked away, leaving you in the fragile quiet of the main space. You took a deep breath when he left, almost happy that he’d left you alone. His excitement was wonderful normally but tonight, for some reason, it was draining you.

Rolling your shoulders, you adjusted in the seat which was growing more and more uncomfortable the longer you were sitting on it. It was a very old seat and as you shifted around, you started to feel the groove of wear from someone who probably sat in it for too long all the time. You sighed and closed your eyes, enjoying the reprieve from people.

“Ya, dongsaeng… are you ok?” It was Jackson.

He’d quickly shuffled into the room and sat down before you even realized. Worry was painted all over his face as he looked you over himself. “Not really but I will be fine. Plus, I wanted to Bambam to keep having fun. He was super spooked in the basement.”

“You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah. Why are you asking? You never seemed to care about me before.”

Jackson looks hurt, “I do care. You’re my sister. I love you. I want the best for you.”

“You have a weird way of showing it. Always thought you were disappointed in me.” You said with a scoff. Maybe Jackson did care right now and was hurt but that didn’t make up for all the years he ignored you or pressured you into stuff that you didn’t want to do. You had the right to be upset and wary of his sudden care.

Jackson looked like he wanted to say more, his chest filling with courage to say something. As you looked, anxiety pooling in your stomach, you prepared yourself for his hurtful words.

You couldn’t seem to avoid anything tonight… including Jackson’s harsh words. . He is about to say something when, BANG! Front door slams shut and won’t unlock.

BAM!

You flinched as Jackson jumped and screamed, his eyes wide and face flushing as he looked around for the sound, leaving you alone.

“The front door! It’s locked!” Jackson shouted out and soon after, everyone seemed to be running to the front door. You heard the jiggles of people trying and trying to open the door echo through the house and growing louder until it was all you could hear.

Fuck. Your head was aching.

Curling into yourself, you took deep breaths and tried to help ease some of the building pain behind your eyes. People were arguing now, their voices raising with frustration as they discussed something.

At some point, they were back in the same space as you, talking back and forth about what to try to do next. They seemed to be talking about you but you didn’t have the energy to try to listen. Their voices seemed to be floating around you just out of hearing range like a heat mirage on a hot summer. You didn’t care to listen either. They would figure it out and then you could leave this god forsaken house.

At some point, most of them had left the main space to explore, leaving you alone with Youngjae and Jaeboem once again. There was some mention of finding a key that you think they were searching for but you barely had the energy to keep up with what they said. You simply nodded along.

“How are you feeling, Y/n-ssi?” Jaeboem asked, looking at you worriedly when you finally stopped nodding your head.

“I am feeling… alright. Just tired.” You spoke slowly, part of your energy going into trying to focus on Jaeboem who was going in and out of focus.

Youngjae nodded, a crease in his brow forming as he watched you, “Must be tired from all that’s happened. Y/n-ah isn’t very social and adventurous generally. She’s been such a trooper for me tonight… and I got us into this mess.”

“Oh?” Jaeboem asked, his head swiveling between you and Youngjae.

Youngjae started explaining why you’d come to this party but you were struggling to focus once again on what he was saying. The lights upstairs started dancing once again. Despite how hard it was to focus on Jaeboem and Yugyeom, it was as if you could see the lights more clearly now.

Someone was playing upstairs. Fiddling with the sticks and leaves that had trecked there for a playdate. They were dancing around and jumping excitedly with the light leaves in tow. Distantly, you heard frustrated groans and a yell of frustration, people bustling around you.

Somewhere Mark said “Yugyeom-ah, let’s go to the kitchen to calm down. We will figure this out but first you need a break.”

“Listen, I understand that you want to protect this house but at this point, we need to get out fast and get Y/n-ssi medical attention.” Yugyeom as saying when you fully came back to the present moment.

Jackson was shaking his head tiredly as everyone else stood around them, a heavy sigh leaving him.

“We can’t break a window to get out. There has to be a way to get out that doesn’t damage the house!”

“Hyung! We’ve checked. I don’t get your instance of not breaking something. Surely the homeowners will understand.” Yugyeom said, waving around at others who nodded along.

“Yeah. I’ve talked to them before. They’re super understanding! I am sure they half expected something to happen at a house party too. They’ll understand.” Bambam said, smiling nervously as he watched Jackson become more and more agitated.

“Yeah! Why can’t you listen to me? They won’t be understanding because they don’t know! I’ll get fired and they’ll charge me with a fucking crime or something! I don’t know! But we got to keep this house intact!”

Silence filled the room at Jackson’s confession, your mind slowly catching up to what he just said… the homeowners didn’t know…

Slowly you spoke, trying hard to speak clearly, “What do you mean you didn’t get permission, opp-”

“Don’t tell appa!” Jackson quickly cut you off, fear in his face as he pleaded with you.

“A-Appa?” Jinyoung repeated, looking between Jackson and you suspiciously.

“No way! Are you two siblings?” Youngjae asked, his face twisted in betrayal as he looked over at you for answers. You looked away, disappointed in yourself.

“No need to look so upset about it, dongsaeng. We both know you hate me.” Jackson scoffed and you looked up alarmed.

You didn’t hate him. He’s the one who didn’t like you!

“Hoel… I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Youngjae said, his voice quiet as he turned away from you and leaned in to Jaeboem, who was looking at you with many swirling emotions.

Everyone was.

You looked over at Bambam, hoping to see something akin to a look of understanding on his face… disappointment. Fuck. Why did you have to be such a damn screw up?

“Listen! I-I didn’t want to ruin your relationship with him.” You sighed and curled in on yourself, ignoring the stabbing pain from your ankle as you did, “J-J-Just because he’s disappointed in me and hates my guts doesn’t mean you two can’t have a go-good relationship.” Your voice cracked as tears threatened to spill.

This wasn’t something you wanted to talk about ever. You weren’t prepared.

And their expressions didn’t help.

You’d disappointed everyone it seems. Mark… Yugyeom… Jaeboem… Bambam… Youngjae… Jackson… even fucking Jinyoung.

God. Tonight has been so much.

Sighing and shaking your head, you stood up, “I-I need space. I m sorry.”

Everyone stood still and watched silently as you hobbled upstairs, each step underlined by a sharp stabbing pain and a quiet wince. Their upset burned into you from behind.

Maybe it was the pain or your exhaustion but the higher you climbed, the fuzzier your vision became. Your ears were ringing and body tingly as if you’d pinched a nerve by the time you made it to the top of the stairs. Somehow despite your vision becoming fuzzy and your body seemingly disconnecting from your mind, you didn’t struggle to get up the stairs. You’d made it up all in one piece and even managed to rest on the wall nearby to catch your breath.

Those lights from earlier were even closer up here. The child in the lights danced excitedly to you, engulfing you in a hug and inviting you to play. Warmth washed over you as you played with her. Time and space fell to the wayside.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Next Chapter (coming 12/4)

My masterlist!

#got7writerscollective #rainingmxmnet #wkcnet #got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 jaebum #got7 jaeboem #got7 jb #got7 youngjae #got7 youngjae x jaebum #got7 youngjae x jaeboem #got7 youngjae x jb #got7 angst #got7 supernatural au #got7 mxm #jaeboem x youngjae #youngjae x jaeboem

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chryzure-archive · 1 year

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Fancy dinner, movie night, and ballroom dancing for Chryzure?

🥂 [FANCY DINNER] ~ What dessert do you associate with your F/O?

honestly,,, mostly jst sweet little beverages,,, like boba or italian soda or something of the like…. OR, maybe frozen yogurt <33

🍿 [MOVIE NIGHT] ~ Describe/create an AU centering around you and your F/O!

i’ve been thinking soooo hard abt my undead!azure-meets-haven au, where it’s chrysi and azure (and later, jacks is introduced, in, like, what would be considered the second season—as a roadblock to the chryzure endgame romance, but also fans start to prefer shipping chrysijacks for a bit bc they aren’t meant to be, but they’ve got such good chemistry that they make it work… but this isn’t ABOUT JACKS, so back to topic!) helping all the ppl with supernatural abilities get them under control + chrysi will deal with ghosts and ghoul infestations.

azure is the new guy that jst started working at the station as a forensics guy (??? i haven’t done any research, but it’s uhhh a small town, so he does the photography of the crime scenes and also he helps piece together the clues. using tv show logic here). he mostly moved there bc he’s undead now and his uncle encouraged him to move to salem, since it’s pretty much ghoul-and-witch-and-other-supernatural-being central there. when he gets there, he meets the supernatural consultant, chrysi :) except they also met before his first day on the job, and they both did not leave a good impression on each other, so now it is very awkward working together…

but between cases, they start bonding + chrysi isn’t creeped out by his bloodlust, so azure starts to crush on her,,, jst a little bit…. but unfortunately, tris is her ex (he returns also in season 2, and he and chrysi have a reunion relationship. it’s a fun couple episodes, some including a high school reunion together and the halloween episode where she dresses up as a cheerleader and he dresses up as someone frm marching band), so azure steps back.

around that time, he finds someone else that is also undead, jst like him, so he has a sort of relationship with her (but not official??? bc he still has such a major work crush on chrysi???). MEANWHILE, tris breaks up with chrysi (the whole “i care about you, but i think i need to care less. if you were to die and i cared about you as much as i do now, it will destroy me.” convo… chrysi’s sitting there like “COOL. I NEED TO LEAVE IMMEDIATELY, FOR FEAR OF BURSTING INTO TEARS.”)

at that point, azure agrees to go on a dinner date with chrysi, on the basis that it’s jst them! going to it! as coworkers! nothing more! except it’s at a very fancy restaurant and chrysi’s all dressed up and azure got them reservations and everything,,,, issue issssss, azure ran into the undead girl (her name’s lexi, btw) and they started talking abt #jstundeadthings, so he lost track of time and accidentally stood up chrysi,,,, FORTUNATELY, JACKS IS THERE!!!! (post-trysi breakup 2: electric boogaloo, there’s a lot of cases where there’s some chrysijacks chemistry,,,, lots involving her saving his life and ending with jacks quietly sitting there, blushing unnoticeably…)

so chrysi and jacks start dating :) jacks took azure’s place in the dinner date (he was not dressed accordingly, but chrysi doesn’t care. she’s glad for the company. never repeat this to jacks.) and in the end, he walked chrysi home. whereeeee they ended up kissing on her doorstep, and where jacks realizes chrysi doesn’t die to his kiss. neat! she is never going to get rid of him.

((the chrysijacks storyline would continue for a bit, where azure ends up dating lexi in the interim, but lexi knows that azure loves chrysi more,,, it’s not a very nice feeling)), I’LL END HERE THOUGH, mostly bc the chrysijacks storyline is vv important to the chryzure one, but i don’t have the energy to explain it rn,,,

🎻 [BALLROOM DANCING] ~ If you and your F/O had a trailer for your relationship, what song would you want to be used for it?

this one is a bit hard, but either aglow by the rare occasions, tether by sleep state, or (to completely jump vibes) in the room where you sleep by dead man’s bones,,, OH, I THINK TORN APART BY BASTILLE IS ALSO A VV CHRYZURE SONG, but i don’t think i’d have it be a relationship trailer song for them. it’s jst.. YEAH, they were born to be together, but they were torn apart… things to think abt!

#.asks #s.chryzure #s.chrysijacks #((a little bit…))#m.filly✨#i think that the sound of bastille is vv chryzure-sounding but i feel shy putting their songs on the chryzure playlists..#like they’re too popular.. idk. hard to break myself out of that mindset ;;;

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redxxstrings · 2 years

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your ocs are really interesting! i was wondering how many different stories are there if that makes sense?

aaaa thank you so much!! 🥺

and yeah, it does! at the moment, i have around 5 stories / universes that i've got going on! albeit, some are more developed and have a more solid plotline than others, but still dkfjdkf

i put descriptions of them under the cut if you were interested! <3

the one i focus on the most (that i’ve taken to calling red strings, though it doesn’t have an official title yet at the moment) follows my main (and favorite <3) oc, mai. and the easiest way i can describe it is kind of like how durarara is, where everyone is connected to each other in some way, but they all have their own stories and plotlines going on as well. its whole, overarching theme / idea is the concept of fate and red strings that tie people together.

anamnesis is about 6 people who’ve all had parts of their memories taken away. except they don’t know that they have, nor do they know that they’re actually being studied (alongside a bigger group) as part of an experiment about memory loss and amnesia being used as a way to control large groups of people.

kingdom of flightless bird [working title] takes place in a world where a race of demons have been banished to live underground, and the current queen ruling over them is basically planning on retaliating and taking over the world lol. the main characters are a girl named yumi (who’s been more or less pushed to the side by society because she doesn’t have any supernatural powers like most other people do) and fafnir (who’s a half demon and supposedly the “key” to the demons’ plan).

another currently unnamed one is about an older brother forming an incredibly unfortunate (and unpleasant on his part lol) partner / friend(?)ship with a necromancer because his little sister was murdered and he wants her to be revived. they also wind up being the ones who have to track down the serial killer who did said murder (amongst many others).

and finally, underg4ound is about a band of 4 guys of the same name! there’s no real plot with this one beyond them just... being a band (and their own personal storylines), but i’m super attached to them regardless. i’ve been thinking about them a lot lately uwu

#asks #sorry this took so long! it took me a second to get my Thoughts™ into actual sentences dkfjdf #i hope they're at least somewhat coherent #but anyways aaaaa thank you!!#feel free to ask about any of them (ocs or stories) if you'd like!! <3

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Gingerbread man as golem

@yaronata asked:

I would like to write a character who is Jewish and uses a Golem. She's based on the D&D class of the artificer which looks magic but isn't, because they produce all their effects with inventions, like the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" quote. Her story is that her very Jewish town was under attack from a terrible monster when she was little. Her Rabbis made a Golem to protect the town, and it succeeded but was torn to pieces in the process. She was fascinated by the Golem and as a kid didn't see a big difference between it's sentience and person's so was really thankful for its sacrifice like you would a person's sacrificing their life for you. They thought all the pieces had been devoured by the monster before it died, but she went looking and found the piece used to animate the Golem, which she, kinda misunderstanding called its "heart". She kept the piece and grew up to be an incredibly skilled cook, specialising as a baker in the town. I imagine she would make a lot of really good food for the Jewish holidays, or to break fasts on ones like Yom Kippur or Tish'abav. But she also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice and the town still being alive, because I feel "we are not dead woo" is a big theme for Jewish holidays from my research, so it could fit, for which she invented ginger bread men to be the golem, and gave them little "hearts" of fruit or honey, and you're meant to eat them limb by limb like the beast did before eating the heart. This would be the inspiration for using the "heart" piece later to make her own giant gingerbread Golem to help her save the world.

These are my questions 1) would it be considered bad or disrespectful for someone who isn't a Rabbi to make a Golem, or is this method of taking an animating piece someone else made disrespectful? 2) Her journey will take her far from her town and her Jewish family and friends and she will likely travel with gentiles. Would it be disrespectful for a Golem to be used to protect a lot of gentiles and one Jew in the course of saving the world? I don't want to fall into the stereotype of someone putting all their effort into valuing and protecting very specifically the group that in real life is oppressive to them. 3) While she is not using magic and is actually mimicking its effects with technology she invents, is this drawing too close to the line of "magical Jew"? 4) I like to "play test" my characters in ttrpgs to really get a feel for them before I write. Would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character when I am a gentile, and would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character in a setting where there are demonstrably real gods other than the one of Judaism?

I really like this character idea and I think it's cute and fun and rooted in Jewish culture but I really want to make sure it's respectful and as good as I, a gentile researching on the internet, thinks it is. Thanks so much! Have a nice day!

My answer to this is very complicated because there are things I both like and do not like about this premise. First of all, I love the idea of a cookie golem, and I'm even imagining the magic word that brings him to life (EMET/truth) would be written in icing. And I'm okay with the part about how she found a piece of the old golem and used it to build a new golem, because that makes sense for a golem made from a baked good when you think about how people use sourdough starter to make a new batch of sourdough.

However, here are the thing that make me cock my head to the side like my little sister's German shepherd:

1. re: "magical Jew" - that's not a trope I've ever heard of. Remember, marginalized groups don't receive identical disrespect across the board. It is indeed a trope to use Black people or disabled people as supernatural plot devices who exist only to further the stories of white main characters or able-bodied main characters. But I can't say as I've ever seen anyone using Jewishness that way. Usually if we are someone's one-dimensional plot device it's as someone's lawyer, fixer, "money guy", etc, not a supernatural force. So this isn't something you have to worry about.

2. I have a certain level of discomfort with you playing as a Jewish character just because playacting as a marginalized culture you're not part of strikes me as off, but I understand that that's how you gain insight into a character you're about to write so it's more of a writing exercise than anything else. (I wonder if D&D regulars from marginalized groups have written about this -- I've only played a few times casually with family so if I did run into this type of discussion in my social justice reading I wouldn't have absorbed it. If anyone is curious I played first as Captain Werewolf, and then switched to playing as Cinnamon Blade because lawful good was too hard. :P )

3. I would prefer you omit the detail about eating the cookies piece by piece symbolically, for two reasons: a. it unintentionally evokes Communion by having appreciative people consume a baked good symbolic of an entity who sacrificed his life for theirs, and b. focusing on the details of flesh consumption reminds me too much of Blood Libel (yes, a gingerbread man is in the shape of a person but how many of us actually think about it literally, the way this act would cause?)

As to your first question: I'm fine with her making a golem even though she's just a rando. Second question: I see what you're saying and maybe it could be more okay if it's really clear how well these gentile folks are treating her? And questions three and four are answered above.

I really do love the idea of a giant gingerbread man golem. Cookie golem T_T <3

--Shira

I would like to second Shira’s point about not ripping apart the gingerbread cookies. I honestly would prefer they were used as decoration, and other cookies eaten instead, since that part just feels so not-Jewish to me, but I don’t have golem-specific issues other than that. It seems like you have already been doing a lot of research, which is appreciated.

As far as the ttrpg/DnD aspect… I bounce back and forth on the topic of playing characters that are so very different from our experiences, other than in fantasy-related ways. However, I am aware that a lot of people will play with, and experiment with gender in game, and learn something about themselves in the process (the number of trans players of ttrpgs who tried out their gender in game before they were out is high). It’s different with Judaism, and even more significantly different when it comes to things you can’t convert into, like various actual, real-world races. But because people do sometimes experience growth from experiences like this, I’m hesitant to dissuade players completely. I do urge you to, at a minimum, bring the same care, research, and willingness to learn, that you brought to this question.

--Dierdra

This sounds like a creative storyline that you could have lots of fun with 😊

At first I was confused by this part:

She also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice

But then you really got me thinking about different types of Jewish holidays and how they come about, so thank you for that!

Because it’s often the little details that either make a story super powerful or kind of nonsensical, I think it would be a good idea to decide what type of holiday is being created here:

A full-blown chag with restrictions on labour and halachic obligations? These are commanded in Torah and new ones can’t be added.

A minor yom tov with halachic obligations but no restrictions? These were instituted by the rabbis prior to the destruction of the Temple, so again new ones can’t be added.

A public holiday or equivalent? This would usually be declared by the Knesset in Israel, and filter to the rest of the Jewish world from there.

A community-based yom tov with specific customs only for people in the know, such as certain Chasidic groups celebrating the birthdays of their deceased leaders? I asked around, but no one can really tell me how these holidays get started, which is probably a good indication that they arise quite organically from a group of people who all just feel that it should be celebrated. Probably not created by a single person, as such.

Something she runs from her bakery, not religion-based, but more like a day of doing special products and deals the way many small businesses do on their anniversary?

Now, if the people of a modern-day town were actually saved by a real live Golem, that would arguably be the most overt miracle for many generations, so there would be a decent chance of options 3 and/or 4 happening. It’s entirely plausible that there could be special foods for this day that become a tradition, including Golem cookies. People who directly benefited might also return to the site where the Golem fought the monster and recite the prayer, ‘Blessed is Hashem, Master of the Universe, Who performed a miracle for me in this place.’

Alternatively, if it’s important that your MC created the holiday, something like option 5 might be the best. Hopefully this will still fulfil what you need: you describe her as incredibly skilled, so I can imagine the day when she goes all out on the Golem cookies being one of the most exciting events of the year for the townspeople, just because her baking is that good. Plus, they already have a personal stake in the Golem’s sacrifice, so I definitely think it could be a thing without being an official holiday. Also, if she is outside of an all-Jewish environment, don’t forget that she would have to decide whether to commemorate the anniversary in the Hebrew calendar or the local one.

Coming back to the cookies, sorry if we’re getting a little repetitive on this point! But I don’t see the cookies being torn limb from limb as part of a celebration. First of all, this doesn’t sound like a very celebratory thing to do, to say the least. Can you imagine explaining that to a three-year-old on their first Yom HaGolem? They would be terrified! (I don’t read this suggestion as accidental anti-Semitism so much as getting carried away with a metaphor, which I’m sure as writers we have all done!)

But also, it’s worth pointing out that our commemorative foods aren’t usually that literal. If you think about hamantaschen, maror, or apple in honey, they’re all symbols. That’s not to say that having Golem-shaped cookies is a problem, as this sounds like just a bit of fun that the MC is having and not something that is directly at odds with Judaism or Jewish culture. But it’s worth bearing in mind that the more literal you go from there in terms of tying the cookies to the event they commemorate, the less culturally aligned your holiday food becomes.

Finally, about the Golem protecting non-Jewish people: I like this idea! There’s a stereotype that we only use whatever is at our disposal to help ourselves and other Jewish people, so a Golem being created by Jews but helping others as well is a big plus for me. Of course, as has already been pointed out, this would be an odd choice if her Saving The World team were anti-Semitic or otherwise disrespectful to her/her community, but I don’t think you were headed that way!

-Shoshi

I have to come back in here just to squee over the phrase “Yom HaGolem.” Well done :D

--Shira

#asks #Jewish #dnd #golem #food #Jewish stereotypes

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circa-specturgia · 2 years

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Writeblr Intro! (I think?)

I admit I’m kind of new to pretty much all of this, posting, Tumblr, Writeblr, you name it. I don’t really know what to write here, but, that’s a statement I’m sure that most of us have made many a time staring at an empty notebook page, an empty document, an empty file, so as with all those, best to just get to it, right?

Of what I’ve gathered seeing some of these while just scrolling and looking around, I take it you’re supposed to write some stuff about yourself in these, and while I’m absolutely dismal at doing that, I’ll do my best! Here’s some stuff I love!

Writing and reading fantasy in particular, from the high to the low and all of the stuff in between!

Contemporary fantasy, supernatural fiction, and urban fantasy are just great y’all.

Anything Sci-Fi. Seriously. From the more energetic and hopeful daring explorations to the cosmic horror and soul-shaking solitude of the abyss, all of it is just so damn brilliant. Especially if there’s science in the science fiction!

Sharing ideas! Talk about people’s WIPs, characters, and just hearing from all these brilliant and creative people! It’s just such a human experience to hear the excitement in someone voice or writing when they share things about something they put so much work and time and love into, y’know?

WORLDBUILDING. There’s just something about a world that’s well thought out with little details, or just unique, and vibrant, and creative that makes me happy, and, per what I said above? Hearing about people’s worlds is the BEST.

Mortally gray characters, Queer characters, Morally gray queer characters.

As for just general stuff:

Oversized anything, hoodies, sweaters, all of it is so comfy!

Tea.

Drawing! I do traditional art with just pencil and paper, and hope to draw more stuff for the stuff I write, although I get caught in the trap of striving to perfectionism too often…

Music! My taste is all over the place, but, I guess it’s really just anything that catches my ear, that I’ll enjoy! Soundtrack-style music is probably what I’d describe to be my favorite stuff though, music I can see scenes being written to, which is often times a process of inspiration for me.

DnD is just wild. If you write and haven’t ever played you’re missing out. If you just haven’t played in general, you’re missing out! I DM for a few friends of mine, though I admit not too often though I wish I could…

I’m a guy, still figuring stuff out but I guess Bi and Pan are labels that fit, and he/him, but I’ve been called lots and I accept any!

About my WIPs!

I’ve got three! Two are mine, one is a collaboration I’m writing together with my partner cause they’re a brilliant writer too, and are so much better at writing and creating character dynamics than me, and they’re the person who got me into writing in the first place!

Mundi Somniorum / Circa Specturgia

Title is a work in progress as I’m not too happy with it, can’t decide which one I prefer over the other. I can’t say I have a wordcount I’m aiming at, but it’s the world and characters I’ve put the most work into, and plan to continue, and see where it goes! I’m not sure how to describe the genre as I was never too good with the genre stuff but I’d say I just add whatever I feel is interesting to a high fantasy world with some magic realism set in the 1500-1700s! If I like something I find a way to add it, weave it in and incorporate it into the patchwork, and I find that to be the most fun!

Found family, enemies-to-lovers, very-close-knit main cast, lots of magic and queerness and pain, and a vibrant and expansive world I hope to continue expanding on!

I’ll tag it as #circa specturgia and #wip.circa specturgia when I post about it!

Prometheus

Technically is kinda sorta a bit of a fanfic…? I think? Is it a fanfic if all you took from canon was some character archetypes and the general direction and scenario from the opening of the show? I’ll just call it a WIP idk.

A story inspired by VLD and fueled by spite and disgruntled annoyance at the train-wreck of a dumpster fire that it became, I love it so much. Lots of inspiration taken from stories like Interstellar, and The Martian, and fandoms like SCP, forming a sort of Sci-fi story! Pretty much anything that I find to be cool Sci-fi that doesn’t quite fit in my more fantasy oriented WIP, goes in here!

The crew of the first superluminal interstellar voyage, the Prometheus, become lost outside the observable universe, in unknown space, more than 46.5 billion light years from home, with no feasible way to return. Soon however, they find they are far from being alone, surrounded by the ruins of alien civilizations, and unraveling the mystery of what happened….

The album “Exogenesis” by Audiomachine for the vibes if anyone feels like looking into em, and Audiomachine in general since they make great music for inspiration!

I’ll tag it as #prometheus and #wip.prometheus when I post about it!

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr community #writing community #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #my WIPs? kinda?#wip introduction #wip.circa specturgia #circa specturgia #prometheus #wip.prometheus

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pennylanefics · 3 years

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Protective - Isaac Lahey

a/n: i finally wrote something!! though i’m not entirely happy with how this turned out :/ i’ve been dealing with writers block and i spent the entire week trying to write this, and still don’t like it that much 🤷🏼‍♀️

•••

Months after the pack got rid of one threat to Beacon Hills, another one came along as if it was the new normal. You found out a few days after the pack found out, mainly because you don’t really like being involved with everything.

Scott stopped you during school one day and told you everything you needed to know. Who they attacked, how they attacked, where in Beacon Hills was dangerous at the moment, and to reach out to him or anyone else if anything happened.

You were doing fine for the time being, but there was one person worried about you. Isaac has had a crush on you since you met at his first lacrosse game sophomore year. He just never acted on it, and kept you around as a friend.

But when there was an attack by the creature on your street, he knew he had to do something to protect you.

A couple nights after the attack, you were fast asleep in your room, having passed out earlier than usual after finishing loads of homework. Isaac had snuck out of Scott’s house and made his way to yours. Since he didn’t want to disturb your parents, he climbed through your window, which was unlocked.

“Oh, you’re going to be in trouble for not locking this,” he mumbles to himself. He makes it inside with ease and breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that you’re still fast asleep.

He closes and locks the window, kicking his shoes off and taking a seat in the chair across from your bed. His eyes linger on your figure, roaming from your hair splayed across the pillow, to your eyelashes against your cheek.

A smile spreads across his face as he takes you in. He’s never been so in love with someone and the idea that the creature could have come into your house a few nights ago instead of the one down the street terrified him.

Isaac stayed awake for about an hour, reading a book from your collection that you’ve told him about before. When he felt his eyes starting to droop, he marked the page with a bookmark and set it down on your desk. Curling up in the chair, he falls asleep right away.

The following morning, you wake up at around eight in the morning. As you sit up, a small scream escapes your throat upon seeing your friend sitting in your room. This awakes him, making him jump out of the chair, falling to the floor.

“Isaac? How the hell did you get in here?” He stands, fixing his shirt that got twisted from sleeping.

“You,” he starts, walking over to you, “left your window unlocked.” His finger taps your nose teasingly, making you scrunch it.

“I had it open because it was raining earlier and I enjoy the sound and smell of it.” He chuckles and hugs you tightly, resting his head on yours.

“Now the important question: what are you doing here?” You say, pulling back from his body but staying in his arms. His expression falters a little and he lets go of you to take a seat on your bed.

“A couple nights ago, the creatures that are currently here attacked someone in their own home, a few houses down from yours,” he whispers, afraid to tell you that part. You feel a shiver run through your body upon hearing that, and you sit down to let it sink in.

“Well,” you murmur, speechless and a little scared now.

“It’ll be okay. Scott and Derek think they have an idea of who this person is, why they’re here, and why they’re only targeting non supernaturals.”

“So, I’m not even safe in my own home?” Your voice comes out as soft as ever, your mind racing with every worst case scenario possible.

“If you want, uh, I mean, you don’t have to, I can either stay here with you until they’re gone, or you can stay with Scott and I,” he offers.

“I couldn’t stay with you guys, that’s too much, I wouldn’t want to intrude. And what about my parents?”

“So then, I could stay with you guys every other day? Again, you don’t have to agree, it’s an offer I’m willing to make, if it’d make you feel safer?”

You think for a moment before looking over at Isaac with a small grin on your lips. He matches your expression.

“I’d like that,” you respond. “You can stay here whenever you want.”

“What about every night?” He pushes. A giggle escapes your throat and you lean against him.

“Of course.” There’s a pause in the conversation as Isaac fights with his mind on whether to admit his feelings now or not.

“Um, since we’re going to be spending a lot more time together, there’s something I want to tell you,” he starts.

“Okay,” you respond, pushing him to continue.

“I’ve had a small, well, maybe not so small, crush on you since we first met. There’s something about you that just captivates me, and I think you’re incredible.”

He goes on about what he likes about you, what qualities he particularly finds attractive, everything, and by the end of his little speech, your smile is so wide, your cheeks start to hurt.

“How come you’ve never said anything?” You wonder. Isaac blushes and turns forward.

“I just never did anything about it. And Lydia told me that you were interested in someone else at the time, so I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“Yeah, that person turned out to be a huge asshole, so it’s an upgrade from them to you.”

“You like me too?” His head whips up back to you.

“Uh huh. I thought it was obvious.”

“It wasn’t,” he chuckles. You smile and lean your head against his shoulder.

“We can’t tell my parents, though. They’ll flip if they find out you’re staying here, in my room.”

“They don’t like you having boys in your room?” He teases. You shove his shoulder playfully.

“Friends, they don’t mind. Like Scott and Stiles are fine. But you? They know I have a crush on you, so if I tell them you’re sleeping here every night, it won’t turn out well.”

“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”

You two continued talking for the rest of the afternoon, and right before dinner, Isaac went back to Scott’s for dinner with them and to gather a few things.

“Hey, we’re turning in for the night,” your mom pops her head into your room.

“Alright. Goodnight.” She leaves moments later and as soon as you hear her walk back downstairs, you text Isaac that he’s good to come over.

Twenty minutes later, Isaac comes crawling through your window, a duffle bag dangling from his shoulder. Unfortunately, this time he doesn’t do it so gracefully. He slips off the ledge and falls to the floor, his bag landing on top of him.

A groan falls from his lips as you laugh loudly. When he finally regains his composure, his eyes narrow at you and you immediately stop laughing. But moments later, he breaks the act and can’t help but smile.

After changing into a comfier pair of clothing, Isaac crawls into bed with you and pulls you close to his chest right away.

“Is there any new information on whoever’s attacking people?” You wonder.

“Yeah, but it’s late and I don’t want to...frighten you with it. So we’ll talk about it in the morning. I just wanna lay here and hold you and kiss you-”

“You know, you have yet to kiss me,” you mention. Isaac smiles widely and leans down to capture your lips.

“Just like I’ve imagined,” he whispers against your lips.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagines #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #daniel sharman #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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dickwheelie · 3 years

Note

jmart request: time travel but make it funny?

I’ve seen plenty of s5 jmart traveling back to s1, but none of s1 jmart traveling forwards in time to s5....

____________

“Well that’s . . . not right.”

Following Jon’s gaze, Martin squinted up at the sky, and had to agree that yes, dark, churning green clouds and a gigantic, unblinking eye staring down at them where the sun should be was, to put it succinctly, not right at all.

“I told you not to go through that door,” said Martin. “But no, apparently we’re researchers, Martin, with obligations to investigate paranormal phenomena, no matter how stupid it is to go through a weird door that suddenly appears in your office--”

“I’m not--it’s not stupid to do my job,” Jon snapped. “And you didn’t have to follow me through.”

Martin felt his face heat. “Well, I, uh. Didn’t want something to--happen to you.”

Jon gestured around them, at the--well, at the everything. “Bit late for that now,” he muttered, his voice barely audible above the distant background noise of tortured screams.

Martin cast his gaze around the--well, hellscape wouldn’t be a bad word for it. They were definitely outside, on a . . . hill? Somewhere? But there were no other landmarks or buildings to identify. “Where are we, anyway?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Hmm,” Jon said, squinting down at the blighted ground surrounding them, as though it may contain a few clues, or perhaps had personally offended him in some way. He kicked at the dirt with the toe of his shined work shoe. Then he nodded, satisfactorily, and said, “Probably a shared hallucination.”

“A--what?”

“Shared hallucinations are surprisingly common,” Jon said, as though he were teaching a lesson to a class of students he was rather disappointed by. “Especially by people who work in close quarters, isolated from the outside world.”

“Wh--And that’s us, then, is it?” Martin said, growing frustrated now. “Two people who work in a basement together with two other coworkers just one day up and lose their minds. Is that what you think is happening here, Jon?”

“I can’t see another explanation for it,” Jon said, utterly stonefaced. In the distance, an explosion was heard, followed by a plume of red smoke and a chorus of animalistic screams.

“Right,” Martin said, mostly to himself. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right. Okay. Of course, he doesn’t believe any of it, you could staple hard evidence of the supernatural to the guy’s forehead and he wouldn’t--”

“I can hear you, you know,” Jon said, so deadpan his voice was in danger of flattening the hill they were standing on.

“Good,” said Martin, daring Jon to tell him off, but instead he just rolled his eyes.

“Really, Martin, this is silly. I can prove this isn’t real. All I have to do is walk in one direction, and keep going, and eventually I’ll hit the wall of my office. Where we both still are.”

“Alright,” said Martin, crossing his arms. “So do it, then.”

“I will,” Jon said primly, and pointed himself at the horizon. Slowly, he began to walk, hands spread out in front of him, as though anticipating smacking into something he couldn’t see. Martin watched as Jon took five steps, ten steps, twenty . . . and after that he lost count, because Jon had disappeared over the lip of the hill.

A few moments later, Jon reappeared, huffing with some effort as he climbed back up the hill again. “Well,” he said, between breaths, “it seems this hallucination is more thorough than I thought.”

Throwing up his hands in frustration, Martin said, “Christ, Jon, I can’t believe--god, why do you have to be so bloody stubborn. And why do I have to like it so much.”

“I--Wait, what did you just--”

“Look, whatever the hell this all is, it’s real, and it’s happening, and we’ve got to deal with it,” Martin went on. “I don’t know how, but somehow we’ve got to. And if we’re stuck together, here, then . . . then we’re stuck together.” He nodded decisively, hoping he sounded more certain than he felt.

For once, Jon didn’t make a fuss. He seemed to deflate, a bit, and nodded reluctantly. “I suppose . . . I suppose it would best to play along, for now.”

Martin looked around, taking in the horror show that surrounded them on all sides. “Well,” he said, “I guess we’d better start walking.”

“Which way?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it really matters,” Martin said.

“Let’s not split up, though,” Jon said quickly.

A warm feeling spread through Martin’s chest, despite himself. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ll go together.”

And so they set off, not exactly hand-in-hand, on a journey with an unknown destination, for what purpose they couldn’t be sure. And maybe, just maybe, they would both learn a little something on the way.

But probably not.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #serenfire #thank u for the prompt!#this was kinda goofy but fun to write lmao #i love writing them arguing #gwyneth writes #martin blackwood #jonathan sims

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Best Part Of The Day

Summary: Dean comes home to find the reader home from work early but something is off about her and he’s not quite sure what to think of it...

Pairing: Construction worker!Dean x reader

Square: Roommates (Tell Me A Story Bingo) & Jack-hammering (SPN Kink Bingo)

Word Count: 1,300ish

Warnings: mature (language, mentioned past smut, minor injury, angst, fluff)

A/N: Written for @spnkinkbingo & @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!

_______

You screamed from in the shower when you saw movement out of the side of your eye. A deeper scream followed quickly after, Dean standing there all sweaty and dirty, hair matted down from his hard hat all day. You stared at him from the other side of the glass door, Dean immediately turning around. He squeezed his eyes shut when he could still see you in the mirror and threw his hands over his face.

“I am so sorry. Like so, so sorry. The door wasn’t locked and the shower card wasn’t up and-”

“Dean dude. Relax. It’s not like I’ve never walked in on you naked either,” you said. “We’re adults. It’s fine.” You turned and put your back to him, Dean humming to himself.

“You’re normally not in the shower right now,” he said.

“Yeah well...work sucked,” you said. You heard him shuffle around and the top of the hamper open.

“Is this mud?” he asked. You looked over your shoulder and saw him holding up your dirty blouse. “I can get this clean.”

“Dean it’s-”

“If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s gets get dirty clothes clean again,” he said. You smiled and nodded. “I’ll take this stuff down to the laundry room and take care of it.”

“Thanks Dean. I owe you one.”

“Dean?” you called from your bedroom as he walked past in a towel after his shower. He stepped back and you sat up on bed in your oversized shirt and underwear. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Shoot,” he said. He stepped inside and sat on the end of the bed, holding the towel closed over himself.

“If I was late on my half of rent for the month…” you swallowed. He smiled and nodded. “Just a little while. I promise-”

“I got plenty from overtime and double time. I got rent the next few months,” he said.

“Thank you.” He stared at you, probably hoping you’d tell him what had happened that day, why you who worked in an office was covered head to toe in mud at some point, why you were home showering an hour before you were supposed to be. Instead of asking though, he simply reached a hand out and gave yours a squeeze.

“How about we order way too much takeout and get drunk tonight?” he said. He smiled softly and you swallowed.

“Don’t you have a date with Cassie?”

“Broke up with me three days ago,” he said. You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head. “I was thinking of ending things myself so it was really no hard feelings. We’re on different paths and all that crap.”

“You okay?” you asked quietly. “You guys seemed good together.”

“She’s moving to Cophenhagen for work. She didn’t want to be tied down. I don’t blame her. She’s you know, becoming an international lawyer and I jack hammer for a living.”

“Dean you’re a construction program manager. You build businesses. You’re building a freaking school right now. You don’t just use a jack hammer for a living.”

“You aren’t just an executive assistant,” he said. You looked down and you swore he moved an inch closer. “What happened today, Y/N?”

“Can we talk about it later?” you asked.

“Later. After our dinner, okay?” he said. You nodded and he moved closer, his bare leg touching yours. “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I know you just showered but would...would you go to the pharmacy and get me a few things if I wrote them down?” you asked.

“Of course. Make up a list for me and I’ll go get dressed. I can order and pick up our takeout on the way back. Sound good?” he asked. You nodded and tucked your knees up. “Y/N. I don’t need to call the police for any reason do I?”

You shook your head and he smiled, leaning over and kissing your temple.

“I’ll be right back. I’ll get you my fuzzy hot dog pants while you write down what you need.”

An hour later you were exiting the bathroom, Dean dishing up a pair of plates for the two of you. He didn’t say a word about the things you’d asked him to pick up but you knew what was churning in the back of his head.

“It was consensual,” you said. “Sex with my boss.”

He looked up and nodded as you sat down at the counter.

“He was...rough. Like going at like the energizer bunny rough.”

“He was jack-hammering,” said Dean.

“Yeah. It’s not very...pleasurable on the receiving end, especially without enough lube. I mean, we were both into it at first. You know we’ve been flirting forever. But after he was just...an ass and he fired me and all he wanted was in my pants and I was stupid and fell for it and on my way out I got splashed by a truck going past and everything down there is sore and that’s way too much information and I didn’t even notice you and Cassie broke up and-”

“Sh,” said Dean, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a deep hug. “It’s alright. You had a bad day. Promise he didn’t hurt you?”

“No. It wasn’t very fun was all,” you sniffled. “Then he was a dick when I said I didn’t want to sleep with him again.”

“You stood up for yourself. You did everything right today.”

“I slept with my boss.”

“People sleep with their boss all the time. He was always a decent guy when I met him. I’m sorry he just played along until he got what he wanted. You scared me earlier.”

“Sorry,” you said quietly, face buried in his chest.

“Not your fault. I haven’t been exactly honest about the Cassie thing.” You looked up and he smiled. “I haven’t felt...the way you’re supposed to feel in a long time with her. She’s a good friend but we were only ever meant to be friends.”

“Then why’d you stay with her?”

“The girl I liked was into her boss. I thought they were together on the low. I figured it was a crush.”

“Was it?” you asked. He shook his head and you leaned your head up, pecking a light kiss to his lips. “How about now?”

“I guess that answer depends on her. I’m already a sucker. Just need to know what she thinks.”

“I think you’ve been the one good part of my crappy day,” you said. “You’re always the good part of my day.”

“I’m a good friend then. A good roommate.”

“Yes. Kinda hard to tell your roommate you like him when he’s with a lawyer and you’re some assistant that her boss fucks.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. You thought it was the start of something more and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Why would you want to be with someone like me, that does that?”

“I’ve been the guy who’s young attractive corporate boss tells him things and he believes her and then he gets tossed aside after she’s gotten what she wanted. There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing.”

“Where do we go from here?” you asked. He held you close and smiled. “Dinner?”

“Dinner. Watch a movie. Tomorrow I will take you to lunch if that’s okay,” he said. “Tonight we can still just be friends.”

“Okay,” you said. You stared at him and he pressed his lips to yours, still but leaving them for a long few seconds. “Or we could start tonight?”

“Tonight’s good,” he said. You smiled and he grinned. “I don’t let just anybody have my favorite pajama pants you know.”

“I know,” you said. “Thanks for taking care of me today Dean.”

“Never have to thank me for that sweetheart. Never.”

_______

#spnkinkbingo #tell me a story bingo #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfic

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calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Coughing in the Bathroom (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

🌸 Coughing in the Bathroom

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: Slight blood, slight language, slight alcohol, emotional cheating]

Part 2

In the world you live in, there’s a terrible thing called ‘Hanahaki Disease,’ and while it is ultimately rare, it is still feared widely throughout the globe. Love is an emotional virtually everyone feels, and it is through that monetary softness that the disease may take root. It affects those whose love is unrequited.

Five years ago, you never thought you would be under its spell.

The first time you met Eyeless Jack was a mess of combined hot headedness and a ‘my horse is bigger than yours’ type of deal. He was so brash and such a know it all! How could you NOT butt heads with him? The two of you spawned a little rivalry, and that rivalry grew to love.

How could you not fall in love with him? He’d been everything you’d ever wanted, and in your line of work, that’s hard to find. You’re what’s known as an ‘independent,’ someone who does not work directly under the Slender Man, but often crosses paths with him due to common goals and your abilities. While there is nothing inherently supernatural or otherworldly about you, you do have the gift of clairvoyance. Your clairvoyance isn’t super special, as you’re only prone to glimpses of the future based on current actions and what might (you are the world’s greatest predictor).

Jack IS supernatural. He’s not human, calls himself ‘a demon of some sorts.

The Slender Man saw potential in the two of you from your rivalry and decided to put the two of you together. It was that proximity that led him to falling helplessly, hopelessly, and ardently in love with you.

You never saw that coming.

Jack had told you he loved you when the two of you had just finished some of the grossest work you’ve done to date. He didn’t want to go back to the safe house the two of you had been holed up in with various other independents and instead urged you to hang out on the roof with him.

“Why are you rummaging through their fridge?” You asked, hands resting on your hips with a smile on your lips.

“Beer?” He finally asked as he poked his head out from the door.

You suppressed a chuckle and threw caution for the night to the wind. “Yeah, sounds good.”

With that, Jack tossed you a bottle, before snatching one for himself. Normally, he doesn’t drink, but he felt as if he needed the liquid courage to face you. He felt like he was being obvious with his intentions, but you’d managed to miss every gesture and hint he threw up to this point. If you’re anything like he is, you’re dense.

The two of you walked upwards and opened the door to the roof and were greeted by the lights of the city. The two of you don’t spend much time in people cluttered areas, but when you do, you always spend a moment together. He took a seat next to you on one of the lawn chairs hanging around and cracked the drink open, practically gulping it down.

“Are you thirsty?” You chuckled before opening your own. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down one like that before,” you noted before taking a much smaller sip yourself.

Jack shifted uncomfortably for a moment as he took the bottle from his lips. It’s not that he was uncomfortable with you, but he was uncomfortable with the possibility that if you didn’t feel the same way, he could be subjected to the disease that’s claimed the lives of some damn good proxies and independents who fell in love with humans they never had a chance with. He hates getting sick, but he doesn’t think he can handle a broken heart and lungs full of flowers.

“No I-,” he took a deep breath. “Reader, I think you’re great.”

You laughed slightly. “I think you’re great too.”

Jack shook his head and took another swig before he attempted to speak again. “Not like that, it’s… I’m bad with words,” he sighed, feeling overwhelmed. The man isn’t used to speaking about his feelings.

You raised a brow. You know Jack, your Jack, to be someone concise, clear and to the point. He’s not one to fumble over his words. He’s not one to get bashful. You know where this is going, you can see it in your mind’s eye, but you won’t say it because a part of you enjoyed his aversion. “Right now you totally suck at speaking,” you lightly joked, which made him crack the tiniest smile.

That’s when he shot you a look. “You already know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?” He deadpanned, eyes narrowed at you slightly in accusation.

You let out a laugh and nodded, hand up in submission, “I did,” you giggled.

“I swear,” Jack breathed out as he tossed his bottle to the stone floor before he snatched yours and repeated the action. Before you could be surprised, he took you in his arms, his lips pressed to yours in a kiss full of everything he just couldn’t say.

Your arms wrapped around him, pleased that he had gotten to the point.

Jack has always made your heart flutter. He’s charming, but in his own way. Even though you have future vision to some varying degree, he has never failed to surprise you. For your first anniversary, he had brought you to the most beautiful flower field you’d ever seen.

“Have you always known that this was here?” You asked, eyes shining over the field full of lavender, sunflowers, poppies and other wildflowers. The scent rivaled that of the Slender Man’s garden.

“I spent the past year cultivating it,” he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, his head resting on top of yours. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”

“And I’m guessing you built the gazebo too?”

“Had some help from the proxies. Hoodie is surprisingly good at craftsmanship,” he said with a small chuckle. Jack pressed kisses to the crown of your head.

You allow him to sway you as you listen to the birds sing from the surrounding trees. “Is this what you were up to?” You asked.

Jack breathed out and shrugged. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he teased.

You turned around in his grasp and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hands loosely connected ‘round the back of his neck. “You suck,” you teased, sticking your tongue out before you pressed a kiss to his nose.

Jack laughed, his smile rivaling the warmth of the sun. “Thought that was your job,” he mused, making you gasp and smack his chest. He laughed again before you dropped the feigned annoyed attitude and joined him.

The rest of your anniversary was held under that gazebo, talking well into the night.

When the nights were hard and you were bruised from jobs that were rough, he was always there to pick you back up. You’d come back to the Slender Man’s mansion in need of minor medical attention and had only come to his home because it was close to where you’d gotten banged up.

“You can just wait in the waiting room,” a female proxy said as her green eyes scanned you over with little concern. She gestured for you to head down the hall to your left. “You won’t miss it.” It seemed your injuries paled in comparison to the gunshots, knife wounds, musical instruments to the skull and other more hefty injuries.

You thanked her with a small smile and then walked down the hall. You’d never really spent extended time in the Slender Man’s mansion; you had no reason to. You didn’t serve directly under him. Still, it was nice to be in something regal looking rather than a dirty field house wondering if the first aid kid was even usable or not.

You took a seat once you finally reached the waiting room, displeased to see that there were so many other people - mostly proxies - waiting for service. Some of them looked on the verge of passing out due to blood loss. How had no one attended to them yet? You waited and waited, watching as the more in danger patients were taken in before you finally nodded off. Your dreams were for the most part, empty, but your vision showed you that Jack was here, working. That thought alone was enough to wake you back up.

When your eyes reopened, you were overcome with emotions to see Jack in the doorway waiting for you to get up and follow him to the back. You scrambled up from your seat, mindful of not outwardly showing you were in a relationship (the Slender Man detested such bonds) and tried your best to remain cool and level headed.

Jack, who wore his mask, showed no signs he had any business with you until he brought you into a secluded room where he could attend to your injuries. The moment the door closed, he took off his mask and looked you over, worry lined on his face. “What’s wrong? Is it serious? O should have seen you sooner. Are you hurt-”

“Woah, woah,” you tiredly chuckled as you took his rapidly moving hands into yours. “It’s just minor bruises and cuts. Just wanna get them disinfected. I might’ve also sprained my wrist,” you sheepishly admitted.

Jack’s face fell again. “Jeeze, I should have seen you earlier,” he muttered to himself, moving around the room to get the supplies he needed. He slapped on his medical gloves again, and then got to work, leaving no part of you untouched. When it stung, he hushed you with words of love. “How did this happen?” He asked quietly.

“Alcoholic guy had way more power than I originally expected,” you winced. “I saw the possibility of him throwing me, but not him almost tearing off my wrist by slamming it in a door.”

“He what?” Jack growled.

“He’s dead now, don’t worry,” you said before you flashed Jack a reassuring look.

Jack seemed barely placated by your words and continued working.

When he finished working, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a look that told you he didn’t want you to leave.

“I have to,” you said as you allowed him to snake his arms around you. “I’ll be seeing you soon though, right?”

“I’m gonna be stuck in this area for a while,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “And you? You’re leaving Alabama right?”

You hesitantly nodded and sighed into him before you took in his scent that instantly calmed you. “Yeah, unfortunately. I have some work calling me out east,” you continued as he tensed in your arms. “Besides, I’m getting the vibe that if I stay much longer, the Slender Man is gonna be pissed at us.”

If Jack had eyes, he’d roll them. “I don’t care what he wants or likes,” he replied. That’s not entirely true, but love does weird things to people. “Stay a moment longer.”

You did.

There were times in your five year relationship that the two of you were split up for extended periods of time mostly on the whims and requests of the Slender Man. Those times you were apart were hard. And unfortunately, the two of you couldn’t actually text or call. Phones, electronics in general, were considered liabilities for people like you due to tracking and everything else. It just wasn’t safe, and BEN can only do so much.

Instead, the two of you would write letters to each other and enlist the help of Jeffery’s dog, Smile. Of course, the dog doesn’t always enjoy playing mail-dog, but he does enjoy the treats and favors he gets from the two of you.

The fifth year of your relationship with him had been a particularly long, hard separation due to distance. The two of you traded letters weekly via Smile. Everything from little anecdotes to how much you missed each other was shared between them until you got a letter that was calm before the storm.

‘Dear Reader, how have you been? I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write back to you, but Slender has put me on a really weird task. It’s time consuming as all hell and I kinda hate it. I’ve been placed with the proxies for a little while, and they all say ‘hi’ and hope you’re well as much as I do. … I love you, J.’ Of course, interspersed in the letter was a whole treasure trove of everything Jack had been up to.

‘Dear Jack, I’m glad to hear you’re doing alright. I’ve been lighting up the Midwest's farm fields - I don’t know why (I do have my inklings), but the proxies I’m currently with get it. They’re a nice bunch, but the one with a pig mask is kinda mean? Maybe you’ll have to fight him or something. There’s also talk of us converting some people to the proxy side, which is weird because it’s not my territory, but I’ll do what’s asked of me. What’s the task you’re currently up to? I love you, R.’

It had been a few weeks since you got the next letter, and that letter was the beginning of your end. You just didn’t know it yet, and you purposely blinded your future vision to it.

‘Dear Reader, I’m so sorry it took so long to get this letter back to you! I hope I didn’t worry you, but things have once again been really, really busy. In truth, I’m not supposed to tell you about this, but as long as he doesn’t find out… I can trust you with this, but you need to promise you won’t tell anyone else? I suppose it doesn’t matter because the whole of our society is going to be talking about it regardless. We’ve never seen something like this before. Zalgo (may his name burn for all eternity) had a kid, right? They call her Leia and she’s been causing a storm of issues for the tall man. We got a hold of her and she’s been under our watch since. She’s powerful, I’ll give her that. In a way, it’s admirable, but she’s also Slender’s biggest threat. The weirdest thing? She willingly gave herself up to us because she’s got daddy issues. Can you believe that? Zalgo’s favorite kid has daddy issues. She’s naturally murderous towards proxies so Masky, Toby, Hoodie and Kate have to be extra mindful of her. For the most part, she’s with me. We talk a lot, but I have no idea if I can trust her. She’s a great conversationalist though - nothing like her father. She doesn’t look anything like him either (you have seen his human form, right?) In fact, nothing about her screams spawn of Zalgo. She looks… normal, if that’s the right word. Other than that, her attitude reminds me of you. Funny, right? She asks about you every now and then, which is odd because I try not to mention you unless it’s with Hoodie. Hoodie says hi, by extension. She seems to not like you despite having never met you, which is also incredibly strange as she’s been nothing but kind to me and the proxies (despite her trying to kill them when her instincts take over). I digress, and I miss you. I love you, J.’

You’d read that letter over so many times poking and prodding it. The energy didn’t feel right, and your mind had shown you glimpses of what was to come. But of course, still in love with him, you acted like nothing was wrong and the future you had seen wasn’t absolute.

The first time you met Leia was largely an accident. A short while after you’d gotten that letter from Jack, you ‘swung by’ the area he was in and decided on a surprise visit. You knew Masky well enough, and the proxy had never been angry with you for visiting prior to. What difference would this one have been?

You knocked on the door in a way that only Masky would recognize to be greeted by the unmasked proxy.

“You’re here for him, aren’t you?” He asked, a tired smile coming onto his lips.

You nodded excitedly. “Where is he?”

“Back room, with uh-”

“She already knows,” both Hoodie and Kate said in unison as they barely spared a glance over their shoulders from the terrible movie playing on Lifetime.

Masky shot a slight glare towards his teammates but relented and moved aside in the doorway. “Have fun,” he said as you stepped inside. “Don’t do anything stupid and if you do, do so quietly?”

You slapped Masky’s shoulder and walked down the hall. You took a brief moment to wave to Toby who was reading something in one of the rooms before you reached the end where you heard laughter. To be polite, you knocked on the door, and to your surprise, it was not Jack who answered the door.

There she stood with long silver hair and the most alluring blue eyes you’d ever seen, her skin as warm as the cinnamon that floated on top of hot chocolate in the winter. She gave you a sickly saccharine smile before she turned her head over her shoulder to address Jack, “Reader is here,” she giggled.

You bit back a grimace but smiled when Jack got up and gently moved Leia aside in the doorframe to greet you.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said as he took you into his arms before he crushed you in his grip. “How have you been?” He whispered in your ear before he peppered your face with kisses.

You wished you could have enjoyed the moment as you laughed in his arms, but your eyes fluttered open for just a moment to see Leia’s unamused expression. “I’m okay,” you replied in a tone lacking the enthusiasm Jack expected to hear.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he checked you over to ensure you physical self was safe. His hands cupped your cheeks as you were forced to look up at him.

“Of course,” you replied in an attempt to play it cool.

“If you say so,” he trailed off before taking your hand in his and leading you to sit next to him on the bed.

From there, the world’s most awkward conversation took place between Jack and Leia with you attempting to cut in every once and a while. You saw it in little glimpses.

Her eyes never left his sockets, and he allowed it.

When her hand touched his knee, he made no motion to move it.

When she laughed, he smiled in a way that only you had been used to seeing.

He talked with her with so many inside jokes, you felt as if you were just peeking in on someone else’s conversation, not one you were invited to.

Gradually, through the hour, he’d moved closer to her than he had you. While his arm remained loosely wrapped around your waist, he’d leaned forward to hear her better. He watched her interaction first after he shared a story. His focus was on her. You’d left his field of vision.

A few weeks into your fifth year was all it took.

Things did not get any easier from there. Eventually, you were moved to helping the group in regards to Leia. According to Slender, it was to ‘protect her’ from her father and her now murderous siblings. That’s when the rift grew wider, and the roots took hold.

See, after that first in person interaction with Leia, you’d felt a scratchiness in your lungs. At first, you chalked it up to being under the weather, but after being moved to Masky’s group, you knew nothing would ever be the same. Your worst fear had come true, and all it took was a pair of blue eyes.

Physically, Jack was still yours. He’d hold you, kiss you and touch you like you were still his. He never physically left your side, nor did his flesh betray your relationship. No, it was something much deeper than that that brought about the sprouts that took hold in your lungs.

Emotionally, he’d left you the moment he laid sockets on her. Why did he give in so easily? Who knows - boredom? A premature seven year itch? You’re not sure. But you saw it - you saw his heart leave the space it once shared with you and take up residence with hers, and it was painful. So, so painful.

He looked at her like she owned the moon and commanded the tides.

He smiled at her in a way he used to smile with you.

He spoke to her in a tone so gentle, you assumed he’d only used it for you.

He spoke with you less frequently, and when he did, it was much shorter and to the point. Whenever you prodded him, he had chalked it up to being stressed and that of course, he still loved you.

“You’re just being paranoid.”

He told her things you’d never even scratched the surface of.

She viewed him as hers.

And he allowed it without leaving the safety net that was you.

Of course, this did not go unnoticed by the proxies. None of them wanted to get directly involved though.

Hoodie was amongst the most disturbed as he was usually the first to call out Jack’s bullshit and the first proxy to inquire about you and your wellbeing. Despite not spending any time with you, Hoodie viewed you as a good friend.

"You realize what you're doing isn't cool, right?" Hoodie said as he walked back to the temp house with Jack.

"I'm not doing anything," Jack replied. "This about Leia?"

"No, it's about Pennywise we met last year - of course it's about Leia," Hoodie hissed as he rolled his eyes. "You're digging a hole you won't be able to get back out of. You know that, right?"

Jack lightly shoved Hoodie's shoulder in response. He was uncomfortable with what Hoodie had insinuated, mostly because Hoodie's BS meter is never far off the mark and normally strikes true. But when he entered that house and saw Leia sitting at the table, he couldn't help but take his place at her side.

Perhaps Kate just believes in girl code, but as a fellow being under the Slender Man’s control, she’s got her eye out for you. She believed wholeheartedly that what Jack was doing was scummy, but of course, her focus is on you. It came in mugs of hot chocolate and late night living room talks. She cares, just quietly.

"Don't overwork yourself, okay?" She said softly as she draped a blanket around your shoulders.

You'd been nodding off much more in the living room than in the room you shared with Jack. "What?" You said sleepily.

Kate chuckled softly and let you rest your head on her lap. "Turn your brain off for a while with me and let's watch this gods awful movie." Anything to get your mind off of what's going on and if this movie does it for you, that's good enough for the moment.

"Yes, ma'am," you tiredly rib, a smile on your lips.

Toby is inexperienced when it comes to these things. He was the first person to find you hacking up forget-me-nots. That was a scary experience as he’s never seen the Hanahaki before. He’s too young and too inexperienced, where would he have seen it?

He can distinctly remember walking with you, patrolling the area for threats when you suddenly stopped. It’d been a few months of you in his group's care, and he’d seen you retreat into yourself the longer Jack spent time with Leia. He knew it, just didn’t know how to go about it.

“What’s w-w-wrong?” He asked.

You waved for him to go on. “I’m fine-” you tried to wheeze out before you began violently coughing.

Toby initially thought you were going through what Masky did. He’s handled that before and naively thought he could help you until he rushed to your side to see the small forming pile of blue flowers covered sparsely in drops of blood. “Oh n-n-no,” he whispered as he knelt at your side. He held you like you were glass. “R-Reader-”

“I said I’m fine!” You tried to reason before coughing once more, this time more blood than cursed flower.

“Does t-t-this look f-f-fine to you?” He asked in stress and worry. “We n-need to t-t-tell M-Masky or J-Ja-”

“No,” you coldly cut off as you wiped your mouth of the blood that dribbled down your chin.

Toby wanted to fight that notion badly, but instead focused on getting you back safe. “I-I’ll tell M-Masky we s-saw some n-n-not deer on t-the p-property,” he murmured as he carefully picked you back up.

You allowed him.

Masky knew the moment you walked back into the temp house with Toby holding you as inconspicuous as he could. It’s unfortunate, he thinks, because he knows what that’s like - to love someone and physically suffer because of it.

One day, he’d sent everyone out of the house except for you and urged you to sit down and have some apple cider with him to ‘celebrate’ his favorite season, fall.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” he began. “You’ve got it.”

You shifted uncomfortably and averted your gaze from his and chose to look into your apple cider than his eyes. “What?”

“Reader,” Masky sighed as he sat up in his seat. “Please…”

“It’s not that serious,” you attempted to retort. “It’s not… It’s not that bad.”

“You’re delusional,” Masky said. “I saw the flowers in the trash bin.”

You rolled your eyes but crossed your arms over your chest anyways in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“You know what happens, right?” He continued, leaning forward. “It either takes you or you get the surgery done.”

A pregnant pause passes before you reluctantly speak.

“Is… Is it really that bad?”

Masky nodded, “From experience? Yeah,” he mumbled.

You gave him a look of both sympathy and intrigue.

“The Operator forced me to get the surgery,” he admitted.

You look into his eyes and see for the first time that he’s empty. His dark brown eyes, that are full of amiability, protective nature, it’s all a front. He doesn’t actually feel that way - it is what is expected of him, but he is hollow.

“What happened?” You asked shyly, unsure if that’s too sensitive or not.

“I don’t quite remember as that’s an outcome of having the surgery,” Masky hummed. “But I remember that I loved him- I don’t feel it, obviously - but I remember that I loved him more than anything, would’ve moved mountains for him, and then he died,” he sounded vaguely perturbed by the words, but they did not reach his heart. “I think his name was Jay.”

You felt something pierce your heart, but it was interrupted by the flowers in your lungs blooming through your mouth.

Masky held you as you coughed petals and blood in the bathtub.

You promised Masky you were going to speak things over with Jack. You promised you were going to solve this. But when he spoke to you with his empty words coated in honey, the pain became too much to bear. It hurt. Seeing him hurt. Hearing him hurt.

“Jack?” You ask quietly, slowly sitting up in the bed you shared with him, much too used to his arms not being slinked around your form by this point.

He roused slightly in the bed before he opened his eyes. “Yeah? What’s up?” He asks, a slight bite in his voice from being woken up.

“Can we talk about something?”

“Can’t it wait?” He sighs in a slightly exasperated tone.

You shake your head, and through the darkness, Jack’s form sloughs in defeat.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Are we okay?”

“Of course we’re okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love me?”

“I love you more than anything,” he replies, hand gripping yours.

He feels like ice.

“And what about Leia?”

“She’s a really good friend of mine.”

He suddenly feels warm.

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s nothing, now go to sleep, baby. We can talk about this in the morning,” he says with a small yawn before falling back into the comfort of slumber.

Your other hand at this point, has wrapped over your mouth to stifle the sounds of silence and the threat of flowers crawling up from your esophagus. You suffer in silence for a few minutes until you’re certain he’s asleep, then quietly excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You begin to cough as softly as you can, not wanting to be a burden to anyone in the house as forget-me-nots begin to fill up the sink. Blood splatters on the porcelain as well as the mirror. Your eyes are full of tears. You feel cold, much too cold.

As you continue to empty your lungs in vain, the light flicks on. You’re in too much pain and absorbed in velvety petals to realize it at first.

“I thought I told you to handle this,” Masky’s exhausted voice chides gently, his eyes dipping to the mess you’ve left in the basin of the sink.

You grip the edge of the sink before hacking up the rest of what the garden in your lungs has to offer before slinking down to the tile floor, utterly exhausted. “Turn the light off,” you whisper. Your back rests against the tub.

Masky does as you ask, allowing the moonlight to overtake as the main source of light in the small bathroom. His shoulders sag slightly as he joins you on this floor, his arm around your shoulders. “Get some sleep,” he says softly, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

You smile softly as the flowers continue to clog up your lungs. It looks like another fit is coming.

“Just let it pass,” he murmurs softly into your ear, his head resting loosely on top of yours as you attempt to suppress the flowers from reemerging. “It’ll be over soon.”

You move your eyes to look at his profile before you take in the scent of cigarettes. You continue to feel your lungs grow heavy with blossoms when you hear Leia’s door open. Her steps pad quietly along the wooden floor as she crosses the hall to the room you used to share with Jack. “You promise?” You manage to choke out before stifling your coughs as quietly as you can. Your eyelids are growing heavier. You can hear your heartbeat through your chest to the hallways of your ears. Leia has slipped into bed with Jack. You hear him shift. He’s holding her now.

“I promise,” he says gently, holding you just a little tighter.

You close your eyes and listen to Masky hum, hoping sleep washes over you soon.

#eyeless jack #xreader #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta #hanahaki #angst #masky #hoodie #brian thomas #tim wright #kate the chaser #reader insert

241 notes · View notes

cherrrysue · 2 years

Note

heyy do you know any enemies to lovers fics where one of them is pining?

hii sure let me line it up for you !

((let's start with the best enemies to lovers fic that ever exist))

((this one's the only closest to what you describe))

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry

E, 136K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Escapade by dolce_piccante

M, 146k (this one only have slight enemy elements, blink and you'll miss it)

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

don't make this easy (i want you to mean it) by wildestdreams

E, 24K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

“Harry’s a player. All he does is chat everyone up. And guys like him are just--so ugh. He’s got that arrogant, self-assured smirk plastered to his face all the time. Always smug and stupid, like he could get anyone he lays his eyes on. All he does is make me mad and laugh all the time like he knows something that I don’t. That is so annoying.”

“But that’s just Harry,” Niall shrugged at Louis. “He doesn’t even try to flirt or anything. He’s just naturally charming, but that doesn’t mean he’s a player nor that he’s trying to get into everyone's pants. He’s just friendly. And he likes you. He doesn’t usually fall for people, but he fell for you.”

“Oh, should I feel special then?” Louis asked, snorting and rolling his eyes.

Harry’s a frat boy who is head over heels for Louis and Louis wants nothing to do with him.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey

E, 113K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

((and also other enemies to lovers))

Collision by itjustkindahappened

E, 226K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by runaway_train

E, 39K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

“Does she know who it is then, from the New York office?” Louis enquires.

“Yeah, some guy Henry? Henry Styles I think she said?“

“Harry.”

“What?”

“Harry. His name is Harry Styles.” His heart sank. Louis hadn’t met him, they had only shared a couple of emails back and forth, but he knew exactly who he was. And Harry hadn’t just been killing it in the Big Apple, he’s been ripping the place to absolute shreds, nailing some of the most lucrative accounts in the business.

Louis is so fucked.

The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way

Off The Record by tomlinsontoes

M, 90K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

Louis is an out of control teen heartthrob, Harry is hired to get him back on track and they both hate each other while they secretly don't.

“I'm not your personal assistant you know,” Harry says once he gets there and Louis lets him in and he shoves the bag into his hands. “I'm your publicist.”

“I know that,” Louis smiles a devilish grin patting Harry in the middle of his chest as he takes the bag, “but look at you personally assisting me,” he says looking in the bag and pulling out the Cheetos. I also know that my PA turns his phone on silent at night, and clearly, you don't. Waiting for a booty call or something?” Louis says turning on his heels and scurrying over to his sofa and plopping down. Harry swears he sees a puff of orange dust soar into the air when Louis opens the bag. He's amazed that couch is as clean as it looks.

For Reasons Wretched and Divine by indiaalphawhiskey

E, 94K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time.

Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

An AU in two parts. Two boys, two stories, and hopefully, two chances at love.

Victorian Boy by audreyhheart

E, 101K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

And I'll judge the cover by the book by harrystylesandstuff

M, 73K | harry styles / louis tomlinson

At twenty years old Harry has his life figured out. He’ll graduate from the private University of Buckingham and move to Oxford to study journalism. He’ll meet someone who shares his values and accepts who he is, and apply everything his successful parents have taught him.

At twenty-two years old Louis has no clue what he wants in life. He’s not sure he’ll pass the year and doesn’t know where he’ll go after that. He spends his time smoking away his doubts about himself with his friends and all he cares about is making sure his family doesn’t fall apart.

They don’t belong together.

Or a Private University AU where Harry is a queer posh prince, Louis is a closeted troublemaker, and neither expect to understand each other the way they will.

once upon a dream by thedeathchamber

E, 33K

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

aka. the Medium/Criminal Minds-inspired AU no one ever asked for.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

G, 102K

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Paint Me In A Million Dreams by green_feelings

M, 112k

Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

#fic recs #enemies to lovers #pining #mutual pining #larry stylinson #larry smut #larry manip #harry styles smut

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