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mingyus-blackcard · 4 months

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ੈ✩‧₊ Black Rose ੈ✩‧₊

Pairing : Choi Seungcheol x Male reader

Words : 1.3k

Genres : Angst, Revenge au, Yandere au, Idol au

TW: Angst, Main character dying, Yandere,

Music : Guilty by Taemin

A/N : This is the sequel to the fic Red Rose, it is advised to read that before reading this for better relatability. Feedback is much appreciated. Requests and questions are always open!

Making the last adjustments, choosing the music bank schedules, organizing the promotional events—all of which took a toll on Seungcheol as the leader of one of the most well-known bands in the world—and spending the majority of his days in the studio as the comeback was approaching. He had just collapsed onto the couch after his trip to the HYBE building, too tired to move a limb, and was about to fall asleep when the doorbell rang, ruining his precious sleep. He sweared if it was the manager or any of his members despite loving them to death, he would kill them with a pen and not care of the criminal charges faced by him.

“Mail for Mr. Choi, Apartment 3607.”

He murmured a brief thank you and opened the mail, which was little more than a sheet of paper, thinking as to what he might possibly get at 7 o'clock in the evening.

“Another one of the fan letters, don’t know how they manage to get my address.” He muttered before starting to read the content of letter.

“Dear Seungcheol,

You never know when your heart starts beating for someone else, just like mine started 2 years ago.

Even with those long lashes shielding your ebony eyes, they drew me in. Your shaggy mullet was in need of a haircut, but who was I to say? Those strong muscles ready to tear off the blue shirt you never threw, even though I told you repeatedly to do so. You would always respond that it was your lucky charm because it helped you get with me. Guess you got a home run with me.

If all you had to do was run, why take a break for me. Your so-called love for your fans, would be all shattered if they get to know of your true escapades. I can already imagine the headlines, ‘Top boy band’s leader being the definition of coward.’ Or maybe it’s just my poetry speaking up. That’s why they say don’t date a poet, you will definitely become one of their muses. After the so called break up, which I must point out you didn’t have the guts to do in person, I felt like death was possible without dying. I did not want to kill myself, rather kill something inside me. I was tired of fighting, I wanted to give up but then I remembered, for once I want to be fought over. So here I am, giving you a chance, fight me for your future, fight me for your career, fight me for your success. Meet me at the place where you first took me for out first date. The time being when Cinderella had to rush back, but here it will be you rushing to save your image. And well if you think this is mere joke, see you tomorrow in the headlines my love.

To the moon and never back ~

Y/N”

Seungcheol just sat there, the paper crumbling in his hands, the shock taking over his body. How could a guy who didn’t think of anything but romance be able to manipulate him into giving up his career. Checking the time which halted at 9pm, Seungcheol not taking this lightly rushed to his car and drove the spot he and Y/N had their first date. A cliff which Seungcheol had founded while filming for going seventeen. The sunset adding the sparkle to the champagne as they clinked their glasses to the eternal future filled with love. How they shared their plans for the future, Y/N merely a first-year English honour student while Seungcheol finding the muse in him for their next album.

They laughed the evening,

They smiled the night,

They fell in love at the sun’s sight.

As soon as Seungcheol reached the spot, he was not shocked to see Y/N waiting for him. He was definitely not used to seeing Y/N being all buffed up. The back his used to hug had definitely become broader, the waist he used to hold, had definitely become smaller, the legs which he would hold had definitely become thicker.

“Y/N” Seungcheol called out, for him to be greeted by the eyes where once he saw his love. Instead of holding the usual glint, the black orbs now being a sign of darkness.

“You came.” Y/N smirked, very well knowing the answer as to why he came.

“You called.”

“I called or did your dangling future called.”

“It’s not like that-”.

“Honey leave the bullshit. I am not dating you anymore and neither are you. I am here to just get some reward for the information I have dug up.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Stoop so low that you will leak the relationship.”

“Just to correct you, firstly, the relationship we had. Secondly, who am I to stoop low when the other guy has to send his company to break up.”

“I had my reasons.”

“Such as winning a daesang, going on a world tour, releasing 3 hit albums ?”

“Try to understand, I was forced-.”

“Keep your excuses for your next song. Don’t give me the crap.” Y/N said while moving a step towards Seungcheol while the latter took a step backward, wanting to keep his distance if the former tried to pull a trick.

“I have enough words for my next album Y/N. Do not worry about how much money I can through that. How much money do you want instead for keeping your mouth shut.”

“I remembered you liked my mouth open wide, guess people change over time.” Y/N simply winked while taking another step towards Seungcheol.

“Cut the crap-”

“That’s a lot of attitude coming from a person who has a lot to lose.”

“What do you want? You name it, Money, sponsorship, trips, luxury, just name it.”

“ I wish money could buy what I wanted Seungcheol. Sadly, it’s something only you can give.”

“Tell me, just tell me and I will do it.”

“Such a good lil pup you have become, An apology.”

“What!? Are you kidding me Y/N!? You made me come here just to apologise!? Ok, then here you go. Sorry Y/N for breaking your little heart. Happy?”

Y/N just stared at Seungcheol, taking a step forward each time each time Seungcheol backed.

“Happier than before, thanks to you my love.”

“Don’t call me that, anyways I shall be leaving, had enough of your nonsense in the middle of the night.”

“Of course, leave as you shall please, but only if the twig you are standing on does not break before you move.”

As soon as the words came out of Y/N’s mouth, the snapping of the twig was heard, Seungcheol losing his grip and trying to find something he could grab, before slipping down the cliff only to hang from the edge of the cliff.

Seungcheol looking around with frail eyes, his breathing becoming haggard, his hands holding on for dear life.

“YOU PLANNED THIS DIDN’T YOU!?” Seungcheol gritted through his teeth, trying his best not to move much to avoid losing his grip and falling.

“Nah, that’s just nature playing against you. I have yet to take my apology.” With that Y/N kicked Seugcheol’s hand, which was hanging on the cliff. Seungcheol wanted to scream but could not, he knew the music in his album had finished playing. He could only stare at the guy who was once the love of his life. His life flashing through his eyes, his members, his family, his friends, Y/N.

Y/N just stood there, watching him fall, not feeling an ounce of regret. The months he spent crying and dwelling on that guy finally redeeming as something useful.

“I can call you anything my love,

But at your funeral when cries are what I hear,

I shall take pride in bringing you the rose,

The petals flying as the wind blows,

The rose which is dear,

The black rose, capturing the fear.

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hey-im-bleeding-here · 6 months

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i wish more people understood just how fucking intense my emotions are all of the time, how impossible basic functioning can be, and how that means I get tired more easily and my brain requires more time to regroup.

"you slept until [blank] o'clock!!" would you rather i killed myself?

#cw vent #vent post #bpd vent #vent #personal vent #cw sui mention #bpd #bpd mood #bpd problems #bpd stuff #actually bpd #autism #autistic #actually autistic #mental illness #actually mentally ill

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sgiandubh · 10 months

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Waypoints, Take 1: POV Complete Outsider

A little something, before we begin. In the history of this fandom, S's book was a critical juncture point. To explain my speculations and findings, it felt appropriate and fun to split it in two parts: the first, written from the POV of a complete outsider who happens to stumble upon Waypoints. The second would be a shipper's view, simply because this is who I am. Under no circumstances should it be understood that I recently took a flight to Bangkok, as I will immediately tell you (I wish I had!). Last time I used this rhetorical trick it went in flames, and I had to explain myself at length: you have been warned. Here goes and I apologize already - this is going to be LONG:

Hi, I am Sgian-Dubh and I have just boarded the LHR-BKK twelve -hour flight, after four years of forced COVID abstinence. I am brimming with anticipation for five o'clock tea at the Mandarin Oriental's Author Lounge, the speedboat transfers on the Chao Phraya and the first real Thai mango sticky rice.

Lo and behold, somebody has forgotten a book in the pocket in front of my seat, undetected by the cleaning ladies. It is written by a certain Sam Heughan. I have no idea who that guy is, but I am quickly informed about its topic: My Scottish Journey.

Ok. A travel book. Favorite genre. This guy is no Pico Iyer. No Robert Byron. And certainly no Freya Stark. But I've got roughly ten hours to kill: where's the harm?

The cover intrigues me. Not my type, but a very good-looking gentleman, with a rather determined, almost stern attitude and a dram of whisky in his left hand. Is he a unicorn entrepreneur? An inventor? The next UK astronaut? Impossible to tell. But hey, never judge a book by its cover.

It quickly becomes apparent that Heughan is the male lead in that lengthy Outlander series of already cult-ish reputation, that my mother watches with gusto ("call me in half an hour, I am watching The Wedding": might I add, for the 455th time in documented history) and The Guardian TV critic calls raunchy.

Six hours later, roughly by the second round of refreshments, I have questions.

The beginning is peculiar. This guy has a busy-busy-busy life and lives in a large country house all by himself, with a hissing coffee machine he just bought. There is something havishamesque about this premise, clashing with the self-assured, conqueror pose on the cover:

But there is hope: a decision is made on the spur of the moment to skedaddle and walk the 96 mile West Highland Way, rather than brood in front of the telly with Chinese delivery food and more alcohol, Bridget Jones style. Fair enough. Adequate equipment is immediately acquired in a frenzy and outside it is nasty raining. The new tent is mounted and dismounted in the living-room (who does this? who eats scrambled eggs with ketchup?).

Pitter-patter. And more pitter-patter. Damp, but heartwarming overnight stops in cozy hotels along the way and short conversations in Halloween-themed bars, surrounded by Highland zombies and banshees. Parritch and grit. The harsh encounter with homelessness along the way prompts the Good Samaritan reflex:

More pitter-patter. Entwined with the self-reliant feat, we start to follow a parallel trail to the narrator's past, by far the most interesting part of the book. Challenging beginnings, in a single parent family surrounded by love and dignified penury. A real shyness due to truly heartbreaking, unfairly absurd, almost debilitating circumstances:

Details like the above quickly grab the reader's attention, and how could they not? There is a lot of sensibility in there, rather aptly balanced with a whiff of Dickensian morality (stay true to your self) and of course, with one of the favorite Victorian refrains: play up, play up and play the game. Obstacles are patiently conquered with uncommon resilience and a true stubbornness, but for a very long time, life is a haphazard succession of opportunities and rebukes.

For such a good-looking man, women are sparse and far between. Ae fond kiss and then we sever at 10. Stage partners. A stage production assistant. The one who didn't last more than one week once moved in together. No explanation is provided and we sense this is an uneasy topic. I wouldn't insist, as a casual reader, but my curiosity is piqued.

At this point in time, breakfast is served. I have long lost track of the zip-a-dee-doo-dah trekking part of the book, involving a sulking, but nice bearded guy and his wife, chance brief encounters and mushrooms. But the Underdog Tale surely got my attention, even if we spend an extravagant amount of time between the London neo-slums and the glitter of Tinseltown: skipping to the essential, it eventually paid off.

With instant fame comes exposure and the lottery winner syndrome. What to do. How to cope. Women multiply as by magic, but only one is singled out and discussed in a strange, contrived, almost lackadaisical manner:

If this made me, the assumed Complete Outsider, stop in my tracks and scratch my head, I can only imagine what would happen to these people's fans. Why address folklore and conflated nonsense, at all? Why give space to hearsay? Why "it", when it should logically be "them"? Why the ambiguity? Why the uneasiness, spinning like floating wood in a sea of positivity? Why worry about that, when you drum the march of success and explain your bachelorhood by an unsolved Oedipus complex, thwarting any potential pairing?

I sip the horrible airline drip coffee and I ask:

Who is Caitriona to you, Mister Heughan?

You wrote a +150 pages long book beating around this bush. There are no such things. You are either life-long friends and this is a non-existent topic, or you are lying to yourself, lying to your readers and hiding in plain sight.

Time to disembark. I am keeping the book. I am not buying the whisky (naïve product placement on top). But hell I am going to watch that series on Netflix!

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underground-secret · 8 months

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The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Description: Sam, Dean, and Y/N investigate a series of mysterious drownings. They discover the town inhabitants a dark secret buried long ago.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions of drownings, gun usage (sort of), maybe cursing, bad flirting, death, mentions of death

tag list: @athenalive, @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld

Word count: 7,066

Dead In the Water

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

We sit at the diner part of the Inn that we’re staying at.

Dean sits in front of me circling obituaries in a newspaper to find our next hunt, Sam having left for the bathroom. My laptop is out as I type away on the new article I had to write for my work deadline, our plates of food are mostly empty, now pushed to the side as we continue our tasks

A pretty waitress, whose name tag reads ‘Wendy’ approaches our table. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks with a charming smile.

And despite how attractive she is, my eyes aren’t on her but the man in front of me. Deans looking up at her grinning around the pen he’s chewing on and god I don’t know if i’ve ever been this distracted.

My mouth falls a little bit agape as I look at him, perfect smile, messy hair, a sort of 5 o'clock shadow going on, and a pen pulling at his bottom lip. My cheeks burn and I know I must look like an idiot.

“Just the check, please.” Sam answers sitting back down in the seat next to me. This pulls me out of my love sick stare, I take a sip of what’s left of my water trying to cool myself down.

“Okay.” Wendy says, walking away.

Dean drops his head, then looks at Sam “You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while.”

He points to Wendy, who’s back is to us, “That’s fun.”

He looks at Sam and then at me, like he’s expecting some kind of reaction from me. But I remain quiet.

“Here, take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.” Dean gives up, handing Sam the newspaper who tilts it so that I could also see it.

“A funeral?” Sam asks

“Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure or whatever” Dean acknowledges.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.” Sam replies, clearly angry.

“Something you want to say to me?” Dean challenges.

“The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day.” Sam answers.

“Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?” Dean pushes back.

“I don't know. Something. Anything.” Sam answers.

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?” Dean snaps and suddenly I feel like I'm a little kid watching their parents argue while I'm stuck in the middle just sitting there.

“Yeah, I know you do, it's just—“ Dean cuts him off, “I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?” Sam rolls his eyes at this.

Wendy walks by again, catching Dean's attention, full on distracting him.

I clear my throat wanting to change the subject, “Lake Manitoc. Hey! Well doesn't that just sound so interesting.”

This gets Dean’s attention back, away from Wendy.

“Huh?” he asks.

“How far?” Sam asks, catching on to my idea.

If there was an award for how quickly someone could make others uncomfortable I’d have to give it to these boys. From arguing over hunting and their Dad in front of their friend to getting distracted by a hot waitress. But if they did get an award they’d probably argue over that too.

The Impala pulls up in front of the Carlton house.

Dean knocks on the door, a young guy with short brown hair answers it.

“Will Carlton?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, that's right.” Will confirms.

“I'm Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamil, and that’s Agent Hayden.” Dean informs, referring to himself, then Sam, and then me.

“We’re with the US Wildlife Service” He goes on, holding up an ID to match his lie.

Will takes us around the house to the dock, where his father sits.

“She was about a hundred yards out. That's where she got dragged down.” Will explains.

“And you’re sure she didn’t just drown?” I ask, even though it felt inconsiderate.

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

Ok yeah, definitely didn’t just drown then.

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam questions further.

“No, that's what I'm telling you.” Will responds, clearly getting annoyed.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” Sam asks.

“No. Again, she was really far out there.” He said, frustrated.

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean asks further, trying to cross some things off the long list of creatures who could be responsible.

“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?” Will asked, pushing for answers.

“We'll let you know.” I respond simply, feeling bad for attacking him with questions when his sister just died.

Dean gives me a nod to start heading back to the car.

But Sam doesn't move with us, instead he pushes on with the questions, “What about your father? Can we talk to him?”

We stop walking, turning back to hear the response.

Will looks towards his father, Bill, and looks back at Sam. “Look, if you don't mind, I mean...he didn't see anything and he's kind of been through a lot.”

“We understand.”

And we do, we’ve seen these sorts of things break people apart, families even. We’ve seen these things break apart our own families, and we struggle each day to not allow it to break us. Even if we never bring it up, not even to each other.

“Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?” Sheriff Jake Devins asks us, having decided talking to him would be the next best course of action.

“You sure it's accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.” Sam informs

“Like what?” Devins asks, leading us into his office motioning for us to sit. “Here, sit, please. There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake.”

Sam and Dean sit, the sheriff pulling up a third chair so I could sit too as he keeps talking. “There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Yeah. Right” Dean laughs.

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still…we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.” Devins explains, taking a seat.

“You do have to admit it’s weird, I mean that's three missing people all in relation to the lake” I press.

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about.” Devins answers, eyebrows scrunched together with worry.

“Anyway...All this...it won't be a problem much longer.” Devins sighs.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, leaning forward slightly.

“Well, the dam, of course.” Devon clarifies.

“Of course, the dam. It's, uh, it sprung a leak.” Dean guesses.

“It's falling apart, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.” Devon explains.

There’s a light tap on the door followed by a brunette woman peeking her head in, “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

We all stand up at the same time, weird, since we were done with our questions anyways.

“I can come back later.” The woman adds.

“No no it’s okay, we were just leaving” I reply with a friendly smile.

“Gentlemen, ma’am, this is my daughter” The sheriff explains, motioning his hand towards the woman.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean.” He shakes her hand.

Maybe he makes it painfully obvious or maybe I've just known him for so long that I can now easily tell when he wants to hook up with a woman. I know Sam has this ability too as we give each other a knowing look from behind Dean's back, standing on either side of him.

“Andrea Barr. Hi.” She introduces

“Hi.” Dean answers.

“They're from the Wildlife Service. About the lake.” Devon informs her.

“Oh.”

That’s when a small boy with long brownish-red hair walked around Andrea.

“Oh, hi!” I greet the kid, having spotted him first, giving him a little wave.

But he gives no answer or greeting of any kind, walking away without saying a word. Andrea followed closely behind him.

“His name is Lucas” Devon states.

“Is he okay?” Sam asks.

“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have.” Sheriff Devon stands going to his office door, “Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”

We all leave the office, including the Sheriff himself. Dean asked one final question, “Thanks. You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”

“Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.” Andrea answers

“Two—would you mind showing us?” Dean asks

She laughs, “You want me to walk you two blocks?”

“Not if it's any trouble.”

“I'm headed that way anyway.”

I look at Sam again and without words we have a conversation on how ridiculous and slightly annoying this is.

Andrea turns to her father, “I'll be back to pick up Lucas at three.” Then to Lucus, “We'll go to the park, okay, sweetie?” She kisses his head and then turns our way to lead us.

“Thanks again.”

Andrea leads us along the street, Dean making conversation. “So, cute kid” He says.

“Thanks” she responds simply.

“Kids are the best, huh?” He tries again as we cross the street, but she ignores him. We keep walking, shortly coming to a stop in front of the Lakefront Motel.

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks” She states with an awkward smile.

“Thanks so much” I say sincerely, feeling bad for Dean having dragged her here just for a chance with her.

“Thanks.” Sam says too.

She nods her head at us before addressing Dean, “Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

A laugh slips past my lips before I could stop it (for Deans sake). “Ohhh I like you” I can't happen but say through laughs. I get a sharp glare from Dean but a contrasting soft smile from Andrea.

She leaves, calling back over her shoulder, “Enjoy your stay!”

“'Kids are the best'? You don't even like kids.” Sam points out, turning towards Dean with a questioning look on his face.

“I love kids.” He responds

“Mhm” I hum sarcastically

“Name three children that you even know.” Sam challenges. But as predicted Dean can’t even come up with one. Sam gives him a pointed look before walking towards the hotel and I follow after.

“I'm thinking!” Dean yells after us.

We walk into the motel's office, Sam’s talking to the clerk and I can’t help but unfocus my eyes staring at the unpleasantly patterned wallpaper. I’ve been traveling with Dean for hardly a month and he’s managed to flirt with practically every woman he’s seen, and yes I know this is an exaggeration.

Each woman, each time he flirts or even winks at another girl a pain rings true in my heart, one I hate to say I'm becoming familiar with.

It was that moment, that one small moment of waiting for keys to our motel rooms that I decided it.

From now on I won’t feel jealous or even that stupid pain in my heart when he’s with another woman, even though I know that isn’t how it works.

I’ll try to forget that I love him, I'll pretend those feelings aren’t there just so it doesn’t become painful to be around him. Even though I know it’s impossible to forget you're in love with Dean Winchester.

I dropped my bag off in my room, now entering Sam and Dean’s.

Sam’s working on his laptop while Dean’s going through his clothing for I have no idea what.

I take the seat across from Sam as he reads what he finds.

“So there’s the three drowning victims this year.”

“Is there anything before that?” I ask

“Yeah. Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace.”

“So, what, we got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean asks.

“Unlikely, considering there hasn’t been any spotting or legends around the town. Like for the Loch Ness there’s been more than a hundred eye witnesses, but for this, none.” I pipe up.

“I was thinking the same thing. Whatever is out there, no one’s living to talk about it.” Sam adds, getting Dean to stalk over and look at the laptop.

“Wait, Barr, Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?” Dean points to the screen.

“Isn’t that Andreas last name?” I ask.

“Christopher Barr, the victim in May… Yeah Y/N’s right. Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued…Maybe we have an eyewitness after all.” Sam informs.

“Jesus Christ” I sigh.

“Yeah, no wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over.” Dean adds.

There’s a sound of kids laughing and playing as we approach the park, reminding me of similar times. We approach Andrea who’s sitting on a bench, “Can we join you?” Sam asks her gently.

She looks up at us, “I’m here with my son.”

Dean looks over at Lucas who’s sitting down with toy soldiers and some drawing materials.

“Oh. Mind if I say hi?” Dean asks her, she nods her head and he heads over.

“Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.” She tells us, Sam sits next to her as he answers, “I don't think that's what this is about.”

I opt to stand, leaning on the arm of the bench. I take in the soft chill breeze and the kids running around. A feeling of peace creeps into my bones and warmth within my heart as I watch Dean interact with Lucas, a mix of admiration and longing in my veins.

Barley five minutes go by before he’s walking back to us, the warmth within me still hasn’t flickered out.

“Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident.” Andrea speaks up.

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry.” Dean answers, she nods.

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asks and I can’t help but think if maybe this is too invasive.

But whether it is or not doesn't seem to matter as she answers, “That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress.”

“That can't be easy. For either of you.” Sam comforts.

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…” She breaks off.

“Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.” Dean offers, I know he’s speaking from experience.

“You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—“

Lucas walking up to us cuts her off.

“Hey sweetie.”

Lucas doesn't acknowledge her, he just hands Dean a picture. One he drew himself, telling from the use of crayon.

“Thanks. Thanks, Lucas.”

We’re back at the motel. Deans sitting on his bed flipping through channels while I'm sitting next to him reading a book, a sort of habit we picked up when we were younger.

Sam enters the room, “So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, putting the remote down, I place my book down.

Sam sits on the bed next to the one we’re on, facing us, “I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”

“He drowned?” Dean asks.

“Yep. In the sink.” Sam confirms.

“Pardon?” I question, I mean how do you drown in a sink, of all places.

“What the hell? So you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.” Dean spoke.

“Yeah, but what?” Sam voiced.

“I don't know. Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...water that comes from the same source.” Dean listed

“The lake.” Sam suggested.

“Yeah.”

“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time.” Sam responded.

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere. This is gonna happen again soon.” Dean says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed towards Sam.

“And whatever it is, it for sure has to do with Bill Carlton.” I add on.

“Yeah, it took both his kids.” Dean confirms.

“And I've been asking around. Lucas's dad, Chris, he’s Bill Carlton's godson.” Sam reveals.

“Then let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

Bill Carlton’s sitting on a bench on the lake's dock.

From here you wouldn’t expect anything sinister from the relaxed big lake.

“Mr. Carlton?” Sam voices as we approach his sitting figure.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.” He continues, gaining Mr.Carlton’s attention.

“We're from the Department—“ Dean attempts to say, getting cut off by Bill. “I don't care who you're with. I've answered enough questions today.” A weak mix of tiredness and sadness etched on his voice.

“Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever see anything out there? Mr. Carlton, Sophie's drowning and Will's death—we think there might be a connection to you or your family.” Sam explains, despite Carlton’s previous response.

“My children are gone. It's...it's worse than dying. Go away. Please.” Mr. Carlton pleads, looking down at his lap.

We all give each other a look, scrunched eyebrows and sympathetic faces. It’s within that look that we decide to head back to the Impala knowing we won’t get anything more from Bill Carlton.

“What do you guys think?” Sam questions as we approach the car.

“The poor man has been through so much…” I trail off, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“He’s also not telling us something” Dean adds, and I can’t help but agree despite how bad I feel for the guy.

“So now what?” Sam asks, leaning on the car.

Dean goes still, stiffening.

“What is it?” I ask tilting my head

“Huh…Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something.” Dean suggests. He pulls out a piece of paper looking at the Carlton house, he tilts it for us to see revealing the drawing Lucas made.

“I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea.” Andrea speaks, closing the door behind us as we enter her house.

“I just need to talk to him. Just for a few minutes.” Dean reasons.

“He won't say anything. What good's it gonna do?” She responds.

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there.” Sam explains, and I can’t imagine how ridiculous that sounds to her.

“My husband, the others, they just drowned. That's all.” Andrea states clearly, voice laced with grief and anger.

“If that's what you really believe, then we'll go. But if you think there's even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son.” Dean pleads.

Andrea nods in defeat.

She leads us to Lucas’s room, he’s coloring while toy soldiers stand guard around him. Dean enters crouching down by Lucas while we wait in the doorway, “Hey, Lucas. You remember me? You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.”

Lucas continues to color, refusing to acknowledge Dean who pulls out the original drawing, “How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me.”

But again Lucas keeps coloring. Dean tries again, “You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.”

I remember the day he told me that story, it was the same day my mom had died and he was trying to comfort me having understood the feeling of losing a mother. I was thirteen, him being two years older, and his mom had already been gone for eleven years. But the grief that was apparent when he told me all those years ago, like it had happened the day before…I sometimes still see it now.

That got Lucas’s attention, he drops his crayon and looks up at Dean handing him a picture.

“Thanks, Lucas.”

We’re back in the Impala, Sam’s holding the drawing Lucas made of a yellow house near a church with red bikes outside.

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died.” Dean says.

“Well it’s said that going through a traumatic experience could make someone more sensitive to psychic tendencies.” I offer, recalling some information I read somewhere.

“Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.” Dean questions, it’s clear he cares about the kid that he’s even worried about Lucas.

“All right, we got another house to find.” Sam responds, referring to the drawing of the yellow house.

“The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone.” Dean grumbled, complaining.

“See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.” Sam states, looking at the drawing.

“Oh, College Boy thinks he's so smart.” Dean mocks, even though we both know it was pretty helpful information.

“You know, um...What you said about Mom...You never told me that before.” Sam admits, the mood changing quickly.

“It's no big deal” He responds before continuing, “Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?”

“Aww, you know you’d love a hug” I tease, patting his shoulder from the back seat.

He rolls his eyes, starting the car.

After driving around for a while we finally approach a white church that looks similar to the one Lucas had drawn. Dean holds up the drawing, comparing the two. There’s the yellow house next to the church and a wooden fence near the house. We look between each other knowing that this must be it.

We cross the street, Dean knocking on the door to the yellow house.

“We're sorry to bother you, ma'am—but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.” He asks the small old woman that answers the door.

She lets us in as she answers, “No sir. Not for a very long time. Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now.

“The police never—I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” She sighs continuing, “Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.”

I nudge both boys motioning towards the many toy soldiers lying on a table.

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” Dean questions.

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up.” The woman explains.

Dean picks up a picture from the mirror of two boys, one who I assume is Peter with a bike.

He reads the back, “Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen seventy.”

We’re back in the car, Dean driving.

“Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow.” Sam remarked.

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean questions.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished.” Sam adds.

“D-Do you think Bill did something to Peter?” I stammer.

“What if he killed Peter?” Sam asks.

“Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible.” Dean remarked, making a sharp turn presumably towards Carlton’s house.

The Impala pulls up in front of the house, we get out and Sam knocks on the door. “Mr. Carlton?” he calls out, the loud roar of an engine cutting off a second knock.

We go around the house seeing Bill out on the lake in his boat. We ran to the end of the dock, yelling.

“Mr. Carlton! You need to come back! Come out of the water! Turn the boat around!”

“Mr. Carlton!”

“Sir! You need to turn back”

Whether he’s choosing to ignore us or really doesn't hear us will remain a mystery as the water rises, flipping him and his boat over. Vanishing.

“Sam. Dean. Y/N” Andrea calls out as we walk into the main room of the police station with Sheriff Devins.

The Sheriff goes up to his daughter, having some sort of conversation that we can’t hear from where we stand.

Lucas looked up from where he was sitting, looking terrified. He jumps from his seat and barrels into Dean grabbing his arm.

“Lucas, hey, what is it? Lucas.” Dean speaks, looking down at the kid.

Lucas whines, looking up at Dean. Sam and I look at each other and then back to the scene unfolding in front of us.

“Lucas.” Andrea orders from where she stands.

“Lucas, it's okay. It's okay. Hey, Lucas, it's okay. It's okay.” Dean tries to sooth him before Andrea pulls him away and leads him outside, but Lucas’s eyes remain on Dean.

Sheriff Devins struts over throwing his jacket down as he leads us into his office.

“Okay, just so I'm clear, you see...something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?” Devins begins.

Dean glances at Sam and then me, “Yeah, that about sums it up.” He nods.

“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?” Devins lists out, the last one making my eyes widen.

He continued, “That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you two.”

“See, now, we can explain that.” Dean says, trying to cover up our initial lie.

“Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.” Devins suggested.

“Door number two sounds good.” Sam answers simply, but I'm not so sure if I agree.

“That's the one I'd pick.”

We left swiftly, only stopping at the motel for our belongings before we were back in the car heading for the interstate.

“Green.” Sam announces, breaking the silence in the car.

“What?”

“Light's green.” Sam answers, clarifying.

Dean turns right. “Uh, the interstate's the other way.” Sam states, getting a simple, “I know.”

“But Dean, this job, I think it's over.” Sam replies.

“I'm not so sure.” Dean responded simply, really not letting anything up.

“If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.” Sam reasons.

“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?” Dean challenges.

“But why would you think that?” Sam asks him

“Because Lucas was really scared.” He answers.

“Dean’s right, somethings not right with this ending” I chime in

“I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.” Dean clarifies.

“I expect this from Y/N. But you? Dean. Who are you? And what have you done with my brother?” Sam questions, looking from me to Dean.

Dean glances at him, “Shut up.”

————————————————

We pulled up in front of Andreas' house. Sam chiming in one more comment, “Are you sure about this? It's pretty late, man.”

“Better to be wrong, then to not have checked” I answered, hugging my jacket closer to me.

Dean rings the doorbell. At that moment, Lucass opens the door, breathing heavy and clearly terrified.

“Lucas? Lucas!” Dean yells as Lucas turns around and takes off, without a second thought we follow after him.

Water pours down the stairs as he leads us up them and to the door with more water coming from it.

Lucas pounds on the door before Dean pushes him over to me, kicking in the door. As Deans about to enter Lucas grabs hold of him, so instead me and Sam enter.

Sam half kneels aimlessly sticking his hands into the water. When she surfaces for just a moment, I manage to grab underneath her arm closest to me trying to pull her out. She goes under again but we keep pulling until finally she’s let free and we’re able to pull her out.

She coughs up water as Sam leaves her to me going to grab something behind us. I hold her to me in an attempt to block her from the boys behind me along with the cold. Sam taps on my shoulder handing me a large fluffy towel while his head is facing away. I grab it, quickly covering Andrea with it.

She sits up fully, breathing harshly wrapping the towel tighter around herself. I sit next to her rubbing her arm soothingly, the bright moonlight shining on her back.

It was a while before Andrea felt comfortable to stand, Lucas immediately running up to her in a hug. After their reunion she went to get dressed asking if i’d stay in the room with her, I knew unless her bedroom had a water source she’d be okay but I wasn’t going to argue with a woman who’s already been terrified so I obliged.

I stood in the room facing the door as she got dressed, she was slow but I didn’t care.

And when she broke down crying I held her until she calmed down a bit.

Dawn was breaking when I’d finally got her to sit down stairs in the living room. Sam sat across from her while Dean was looking through the bookshelves that lined the wall.

“Can you tell me?” Sam asked.

“No. It doesn't make any sense. I'm going crazy.” She started crying again, putting her face in her hands.

“Your not crazy” I tell her.

“Tell us what happened. Everything.” Sam adds.

“I heard...I thought I heard...there was this voice.” Andrea recalled.

“What did it say?”

“It said...it said 'come play with me'. What's happening?” She sobs into her hands.

Dean approaches us with a book of some sort in his hand, he puts it down in front of Andrea opening to a picture of a bunch of boys in a uniform that looks like boy scouts. “Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?” He asks.

“What? Um, um, no. I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” She moves her finger over to another picture, kid Jake standing next to Peter.

Dean looks up at us, “Chris Barr's drowning. The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.”

“Bill and the sheriff—they were both involved with Peter.” Sam adds.

“What about Chris? My dad—what are you talking about?” Andrea asks, looking between the three of us.

Dean looks to the side, “Lucas? Lucas, what is it?”

He asks the boy staring out the window. Lucas opens the door and walks outside and we follow.

“Lucas, honey?” Andrea calls out.

Lucas then stops and looks at the ground then at Dean.

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?” Dean commands.

Andrea pulls Lucas back into the house, Dean heads to the Impala and back, returning with shovels. We start digging, and it doesn't take long before Sam’s shovel clanked against something.

Almost in sync we drop to our knees, digging with our hands, pulling out a red bicycle.

“Peter's bike.” I murmur.

“Who are you?” A commanding voice rings from behind us. We turn around only to be met with the Sheriff pointing a gun at us.

“Put the gun down, Jake.” Sam reasons as we drop the shovels.

“How did you know that was there?” Jake questions, gun still raised.

But he does not get the answer he’s looking for, Dean instead questioning him, “What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” Jake replies with venom.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell I'm talking about.” Dean continues.

Andrea suddenly runs off yelling, “Dad!”

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit.” Dean finishes.

“It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It's gonna drown them. And it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does.” Sam adds.

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” Jake challenges.

“Because that’s exactly what happened to Bill Carlton” I huff.

“Listen to yourselves, all of you. You're insane.” Jake seethes, tightening his grip on the gun.

“I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.” Dean spits a reply.

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea asks weakly.

“No. Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous.” He accuses.

“Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.” Andrea commands and he does, “Tell me you—you didn't kill anyone.”

He doesn't reply, instead looking away. “Oh my God.” She gasps.

“Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.

Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.” Jake explains, lowering his gun.

“All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now.” Dean orders.

Andrea turns her head, but instead of moving she gasps. We all look in her direction seeing Lucas going down to the lake.

“Lucas” Jake yells out to his grandson.

We run the dock, Lucas leaning over the side reaching into the water.

“Lucas!”

“Lucas! Baby, stay where you are!” Andrea yells, but Lucas had a head start on us and was still too far for us to reach before a hand pulled him into the water.

We keep running to the end of the dock, the boys dive in and despite my fear of deep waters I dive in right after them.

The water is cold and murky, it’s hard to truly see in front of me but I keep going further. In the corner of my eye I see two figures that I know to be the boys breach the surface, but I force myself to keep going despite the lack of air I had left. I light one of my hands up to use as a flashlight, seeing Lucas’s small body getting dragged further down by Peter.

I try to grasp his arm but he’s just out of reach. My throat is tight with lack of oxygen, I’m about to go to a second plan when suddenly the ghost boy lets go of Lucas. I grab him quickly, before he can change his mind, I swim as fast as I can to the surface hoping i’d make it.

I break the surface with a harsh breath, the rush of oxygen to my lungs only making my chest hurt more. My wet hair covered my face but I didn’t bother to fix myself as I handed the unconscious boy to Sam, who was closest to me. Sam brought him to the edge and with the help of Andrea pulled him out, beginning cpr.

I stay treading in the water breathing heavily, my chest raising up and down exceptionally fast. Dean lifts himself out of the lake landing on his knees, facing the body of water. Dean offers his hand to me, I swim to the edge of the lake where he sits, gladly taking his hand. He lifts me out of the water with ease, turning himself in the process so that I was next to him and not on top.

I look over at Lucas, who’s okay and hugging his mother before I let my head drop down my wet hair creating a curtain around me as I hold my hands to the firm ground, trying to not only catch my breath but also calm my anxiety.

Gentle, familiar, hands hold the sides of my face. Dean. He brings my head up to look at him, my wet hair in the way, but he pushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ears, his hands immediately going back to cupping my face.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks me, breathing a little heavy too, his voice gravelly and low.

I nod my head in response, feeling as if I couldn’t form the words to answer verbally.

“No. I need to hear you say it, baby” He breathes, hands still on me if not a little firmer.

“I’m okay” I answer, my voice coming out crackly.

He seems to accept that answer as he looks over me slowly, eventually making his way back to my eyes. It almost seemed like his eyes were going to drop down once more but before he could there were sounds of sirens, always our que to leave.

————————————————————————

We walk out of the motel, Sam throwing his duffel bag into the car.

“Look, we're not gonna save everybody.” He tells Dean. They caught me up on what happened on the drive back to the motel, Jake sacrificing himself. Which had made sense why Peter had suddenly let Lucas go.

“I know.” Dean responds simply.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N” Andrea calls out walking up to us with Lucas.

“Hey.” Dean greets.

“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.” Andrea explained, motioning down to Lucas who looked very pleased with the platter of sandwiches he was carrying.

He looked up to his mom, “Can I give it to them now?”

“Of course” Andrea told him, smiling wildly, giving him a kiss on the head.

“Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car.” Dean takes the plate from him.

“Lucas, this is so sweet of you, thank you” I tell him sincerely while Dean places the plate on the passenger seat of the car.

“All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.” Dean instructs the kid as he sits in the passenger seat facing outward, with the door open.

“Zeppelin rules!” Lucas yells out.

“That's right. Up high.” Dean holds his hand up for a high-five. Lucas obliges, grinning. I laugh almost uncontrollably, the moment just a little too sweet.

“You take care of your mom, okay?” He tells him.

“All right.” Lucas answers, determination on his face.

Andrea and Sam come up to the car. Andrea leans over the open door giving Dean a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away with a “Thank you”

My eyebrows raise and I take a half-step back, not really expecting her to do that.

Dean stiffens and you can see the cogs turning in his head, he scratches his head and turns his head towards me, looking at me. I don’t say anything, I mean what would I say, I’m not even sure why he’s looking at me.

He goes around the car passing me, eyes still on me as he calls out to Sam. “Sam, move your ass. We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”

We all get in the car, smiling and waving goodbye to Andrea and Lucas as we drive away.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural #dead in the water #supernatural season 1 #john winchester #slow burn #guilty #secrets #supernatural x reader #witch reader #the hunter and the witch

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wandafiction · 2 months

Text

Love Language - Just Us Chapter 22

Warnings 18+: Smut, Oral (Reader Receiving), Fingering (Reader Receiving), Praise kink.

Word Count: 2497

Series List | Chapter 21 | Chapter 23

================================

Slowly, my eyes flutter open my hand searching for the extra body in bed but I can't find one. I lift my head to look around the bed and I can't see Wanda, she must have let me sleep in. I turn to grab my phone from the bedside table pressing the home button to bring up the time. 10 o'clock, that's a wonderful lay in, I smile to myself when I hear the faint noise of Wanda humming to herself as she makes her way back towards the bedroom. The door creaks open, Wanda using her foot to open the door a smile growing on her face when she sees me shuffling to wake up and wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"What's this princess?' I ask as she places a tray with a plate of pancakes onto the bedside table while I situate myself to sit up against the headboard.

"This, dorogoy, is breakfast in bed. You were sound asleep when I woke up so decided to surprise you and also let you get some more sleep." I make grabby hands and she holds out her hands, letting me guide her to sit on her calves, her legs either side of mine.

"Well it is a lovely surprise, thank you princess and thank you for letting me sleep in. I can't remember the last time I slept past 8." Wanda leans forward to peck me on the cheek and I pout slightly.

"You have morning breath, so after pancakes and clean teeth you can get a proper kisses." She leans to her left to grab the tray, placing it on my lap and handing me the cutlery.

Wanda climbs off of my legs and plonks herself next to me against the headboard. I take a deep breath taking in the fresh scent of strawberries, I love that she smells of strawberries. I cut up my pancakes into bite size pieces, placing the knife on the tray and using my free hand to hold onto Wanda's while my other feeds me pancakes. She moves our joined hands into her lap and starts playing with my fingers as we eat in silence.

"I want you to meet some of my friends." Wanda says out of nowhere, but also calming to make sure I don't freak out.

"Okay, when would you like me to meet them? And which 'them' are they?" I take another bite of pancake as Wanda continues fiddling with my fingers.

"Just Nat, Lena and Sharon." She shrugs nonchalantly. "They are planning to come for a girls night tonight, just to drink, movies and as you said the first time I met you dramaaaa."

"What's the date today?"

"18th, why?" She grabs the fork from my hand, stealing a bit of pancake before passing the fork back so I can continue eating.

"Just making sure I don't have anything planned today." I say as I look at my mental calendar. "No, nothing planned. I'm free to meet your friends. Do they know how we met?"

"They do, they know we have been seeing each other this past week. It's crazy to think we only met last week."

"Friday 10th to be exact."

"Mhmm, they want to meet you."

"And I want to meet them. I am fully prepared for the 'you hurt her we kill you' talk." Me and Wanda both laugh.

"Well I think I told you that Lena and Nat are sisters, but they are both Russian so can be intense sometimes. Nat you can't really tell as she hides her accent like me, but Lena doesn't hide her Russian heritage. Sharon is more down to earth, still protective, but very relaxed."

"Well I will give myself a prep talk in the bathroom before they get here."

"That might be your best chance to survive honestly." I take the last bite of the pancake, placing the tray down on the bedside table next to me wrapping my left arm around Wanda's shoulders letting my hand hang against her left arm as I pull her close.

She shifts her legs so they rest over mine, her right hand coming to hold my left hand that was hanging against her arm and is now gently pressed against her elbow. Her other hand picks at some loose thread on her shirt. Her head rests against the inside of my arm close to my shoulder as we just enjoy the quiet that surrounds us.

"I've missed this." Wanda mumbles out like she is afraid of what I would say.

"You've missed what princess?" I bring my lips to the crown of her head pecking it a few times before resting my chin on it to let her speak.

"Just the holding, the comfort. Just moments like these. I didn't know so much calm could take up a morning, or a night." She shrugs, struggling to tell me her thoughts.

"Were your mornings ever like this with vision?" Wanda tilts her head up to look at me as I ask the question.

"Uh, no." She brings her hand that was playing with her shirt to her mouth as she starts biting her nails, something I have noticed she does when she is nervous about something. I use my free hand to take it out and hold them in our laps allowing her to play with my fingers. "He was always up early and home late for work."

"I only ask because I think I have an idea why you like it so much."

"And what is your conclusion?" I move my chin from the top of her head and in front of hers so I can give her 100% of my attention.

"I believe that your love language, or at least one of them, is touch. You like to be cuddled, held, or just holding someone yourself. You relish in skin on skin contact and you like the warmth of another person's body. However, I also believe you are touched deprived. So you have not had this sort of touch in a very long time, not in the way you need or want it." I remove my hand from hers using it to lift up her chin so our lips can be in a small but meaningful kiss. "So you can hold me as much as you want Wanda because touch is one of the best love languages there are."

"Wow. Did you steal that from some book or something?" She laughs out but I gently shake my head giving her another peck.

"No I just know because touch is one of my love languages too. Well technically there are 5 solid love languages but not every relationship has them all, because every relationship is different. And touch is a big one. I love skin on skin contact. Just the simple gesture of drawing random shapes anywhere on my body, will get me to melt at your touch. For you, you seem to like quick kisses but also when I weave my hands through your hair and scratch at your scalp." I move my hand from her chin up to her hair where I slowly weave my hand through it. When I get to the crown of her hand I gently scratch at her skin and I feel her sink more into me and let out a small sigh.

"See you like scalp scratches a lot." Wanda simply nods as I continue to scratch gently at her scalp.

"It is such a nice feeling, please don't stop, just a little bit longer." Wanda speaks after a few minutes of silence and as requested I continue to scratch at her scalp as we both just sit quietly enjoying the moment.

After about 10 minutes of silent scalp scratches I pull my hand away, a small whine coming from Wanda as I lift her chin.

"If I am to meet you friends, I must at least put in the effort to look somewhat decent."

"Do you need to go back to the penthouse?" Wanda pouts as she speaks.

"I do princess. But my sister has gone back to her wife so you can come with me if you so please."

"I do." Her pout turns into a childish smile as she starts to shift off of me so we can both get ready to start the day.

Wanda disappears into her ensuite so I decide to get my clothes from yesterday back on while she is in there. As I am taking off the t-shirt I hear the door to the ensuite open and Wanda's feet padding along the floor of the bedroom. I feel her wrap her arms around my torso, her lips against my back giving the scar on my spine a few kisses before she spins me around. Her eyes drop to breasts, I smirk as I use my finger and thumb to lift her chin.

"My eyes are up here baby girl." Her feet shift underneath her as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth; and her eyes drop back down to look at my naked torso.

Wanda looks down and starts to trail kisses to my collar bone. She nips at the bone, scraping her teeth along the skin, soothing with her tongue before moving slowly across to the other collar bone leaving kisses across my chest. She looks up at me through her eyelashes as she gives my other collar bone small nips leaving a mark before soothing the area. I sigh out as I feel her tongue move down from my collar bone to my breast, swirling her tongue around my nipple until it stiffens. Wanda moves her mouth to the side of my breast sucking at the skin leaving another mark on my body, before moving across to my other breast. I weave my hand through her hair as she starts to twirl my nipple with her tongue, gripping it tightly, pulling her head back to look at me. Wanda moans up at me as I pull her hair again, her back arching so her body connects with mine.

"What are you doing baby girl?" Her eyes flutter at the name, looking back up at me with lust filled eyes.

"I want to make you feel good." Her hands come to rest on my hips as her thumbs start to rub at the thin skin just under the hem of my shorts. She proceeds to pull them down, allowing them to pool at my feet, as she bends down to get between my legs.

"Are you sure?" I want to make sure she wants to do this, because we may have had sex but she has only used her fingers and never her mouth. It didn't bother me, especially because this is all new to her, so I never brought it up.

"I want to taste you." I bunch her hair in my hand as we look at each other. "Can I taste you?"

"Go ahead baby girl, but let me just move so I can lean against something." I let go of her hair as I move a couple steps back to lean against the chest of draws in her room, Wanda stayed kneeling in the same spot. "You going to be a good girl and make me feel good?"

With that Wanda crawls the few paces along the floor, her eyes never leaving my face. Holy shit, now that was fucking hot. Her hands slide from the floor in front of me over my feet to my ankles, before she slides them up to my calves squeezing every now and again earning small sighs from me. I'm watching her every move while she watches my reactions. Her hands move to the backs on my knees before sliding up to the middle of my thighs. She grips them lightly as she brings her body closer to my legs once again, kneeling up so her face is in front of my core, but her gaze never falters from looking at my face. Not once. As she moves her face closer her hands move up to my butt groping it lightly, before she uses it to move me closer to her.

Wanda's gaze finally drops down to look at my core, her hands squeezing my butt as she does so. She grabs my left leg putting it over her shoulder so she can get more access, I feel myself getting wetter at the sight below me. While one hand is in her hair gripping it tightly, my other is holding me in place against the chest of draws. She brings her face up to my core and I feel her tongue lick a stripe through my folds. I release a small moan as she does it again, which seems to give her the confidence she needs to let her tongue find my clit. My grip in her hair tightens, pulling slightly when she flicks at my clit; Wanda moans at my actions and I feel the vibrations move through my whole body causing me to gasp.

Liking the reactions she is getting she continues, now swirling the bundle of nerves with her tongue more as more moans escape with no filter. One of her hands that was on my butt moves around to my front before it makes its way down to my core. She slides one finger into my entrance and starts pumping at a steady pace, as her tongue continues the swirling movements against my clit. I throw my head back a loud moan leaving my mouth as I close my eyes in sheer pleasure. I feel Wanda add another finger increasing her pace inside me. I feel her teeth graze against my clit and a guttural moan leaves my mouth.

"Good fucking girl. You're making me feel so good. I'm so close." Wanda moans at my praise and I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head as my high hits me hard.

As I come back down from my high, I feel Wanda cleaning up with her tongue as she removes her fingers. Wanda gently removes my leg from her shoulder as she looks back up at me, and I watch as she brings her fingers to her mouth to clean them both off. I groan at the sight, pulling her gently up by her hair until she is standing against me.

"How was that baby girl?" Her eyes shine as she hums against my chest. "For never having done that before you made me feel so fucking good."

"I can't wait to taste you again." I lean down to give her a passionate kiss and I taste the little bit of me that's left on her lips. I pull away and bring my mouth to her ear.

"Well, you've been such a good girl for me, making me feel good. Good girls get rewards." I hear a small moan from Wanda.

"What's my reward?"

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