#and we're going to go and return it tomorrow i think! and get another one! and hopefully we'll remember to go in the right car asdkjnsds

[lustlovehart]

Despairing Survival

I recently watched all of us are dead, and your girl is not immune to apocalypse au’s (•̀ᴗ•́)و (And angst. The ending of book 7 has me realizing we're close to the end and it's becoming real sad 😔)

Synopsis: After your sacrifice in the outbreak, he thinks back to the moments in the wretchedness with you, that made hell much more manageable.

Features: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, & Malleus

Warnings: Overblots are zombies, Meant to be viewed as a magicless au but doesn’t matter too much because non-humans are still not human, Angst, Childhood friends, You die, as usual for my fluff— a little corny, in Malleus's portion you're as old as him, because idk how childhood friends would work if you weren't.

One day you’re living an entirely normal life with him, and the next you know, inky beasts crawl on the floor, desperate to take a bite out of you. It´s whiplash, one moment you´re laughing with the man in front of you, and now you sit trapped in a closet, his hand covering your mouth as monsters drag themselves across the floor.

When he looks down at you, he can't help but feel a sting in his heart. The fear in your eyes reminds him of who you are in front of him, his friend who's been the center of his mind ever since knowing you.

But now, how will he ever come to terms with his inner conflict knowing one of you might not be here tomorrow. Though, what might be worse, is acknowledging the fact you don't return those feelings of his.

He will only ever be your friend.

Both of you have to fight for your lives in NRC as overblots chase you left and right, meeting with other students to get out of the wretched hellscape. Seeing friends you've known for so long become infected from their fight... Having to let them go with tears in your eyes, realizing you will never see them again.

He watches you with every breath, your second shadow, becoming your crutch as the losses become too much. While everyone else sleeps, he looks as you stare down at everyone, opening your mouth to say something to him. As your lip twitches, he'll hold your hand.

"Don't say anything. We have tomorrow, and the day after, or maybe next week." You finally lift your head, looking into his eyes, "We'll talk then."

...

And then, the termination of all infected is brought about. And he's left gasping for air in panic as you step away from him.

A newly enacted bite on your hand.

Even when you put your arm up to stop him from getting closer, he keeps walking toward you.

"You... You won't turn. You can't." you don't smile when you look at him, and neither do you say words. All you can hope is that he understands no matter what he believes, he can't deny reality.

The others stare in disbelief, watching the two of you with trembling breath. He's ready to yell another delusion before you pull him in, your lips on his. It's enough of a distraction for him, your soul welding into his. It feels like an eternity to him, but only because he wishes it to be. When you finally separate, he's ready to take hold of you and never let go. But he doesn't have a chance with you pushing him back into the others.

"Don't die."

Arms desperately hold him back from chasing you. The only fragment of you left is the voice that echoes as you lure overblots to your person, giving them a chance of escape.

He doesn't have the chance to see if you make it, the explosion blowing where you last were to pieces.

Riddle

He looks back at the time you all were caged in the library, only you and him solely being awake. Despite the gravity of the situation, you watch intently as Riddle buries himself in the few books left on the shelves.

A vast majority of them are medical books, but there are some law articles, buried at the bottom of the stack. He can feel your eyes on him as he scans each page, but he doesn't speak, only allowing you to continue staring in the silence.

It reminds him of the way you always peeked over his shoulder when he snuck out, curious to whatever he was doing. The proximity always made him nervous then, and it still does.

"You know, I don't think you have to keep studying anymore, Riddle." you finally break the quiet, Riddle glancing up from the words on the paper. "Who knows when this will be all over... Medical pursuits might as well end here."

"Don't say that, you might as well be saying to let the world die. When this passes over, I still need to pass..." Riddle's sentence falls away when you come closer, turning his head to find you a few inches away.

"I'm not trying to be negative I was just..." There's a certain hurt in your eyes that tells him something, but he isn't so sure until you tell him, "If the world does go back, do you really want to keep studying something you're not passionate about? I mean..." Riddle's eyes are trained on you as you rest your head on his shoulder. "Your mom's not here to do anything right?"

There's a comforting smile on your lips when you look at him. But it falters when he only stares at you in silence. You return your head to his body, following along the page. He's about to blurt his feelings to you before he feels your hand on his, replacing the anatomy book with the texts from the bottom.

"Well then, tell me everything, for as long as you can."

...

Riddle places the book at the root of a tree with your name carved on it. He wishes he had more time to tell you the rest of what he knows.

Leona

He thinks of when you all were trapped on the roof, his body lying on the edge as he looks into the sky, indifference masking his face. Part of his body hangs off the roof, overblots several stories below attempting to reach for him.

"I hope you're not trying to leave me alone in this apocalypse, Kingscholar." your shadow overcasts him, blocking his view of the stars. He tuts, but he won't tell you he prefers the sight of you over those burning balls of fire in the sky. He sits up, taking your hand and pulling you next to him.

It's similar to the way he would drag you closer to him when you both were younger, shielding you from heat and any danger.

"Don't think I can. You'd follow me into the afterlife and make me die a second time." You don't deny the claim, but he smiles with the way you roll your eyes at him. He watches you ready a retort but sees in real-time when you change your mind on what to say to him.

"... Yeah, I don't know what i'd do if you died." Those words have him look over at you, eyes wide for a moment. He recomposes himself before you have the chance to see it though. "I wouldn't have anyone to annoy while I give into insanity, would I?" despite the dark undertone in your words, you flash him a bright smile.

"... Don't say depressing shit like that."

"Then don't casually hang yourself at a height that could kill you Leona." he never would've let that happen anyway, he can't leave you here.

"Right right, I won't-" he's cut off when he feels your arms wrap around him, a warm embrace that has you bury your face into his neck, muffling your voice.

"Lets survive together."

...

He doesn't know if he should feel sad or angry when he looks at the ruined building. It seems that was the first agreement the two of you have ever broken.

Azul

He remembers holing up in the pool, everyone else talking on pool floats, far from where the two of you were. Azul sat next to you, dry and out of the pool, meanwhile, you sat right on the edge, your legs submerged in the light of the water.

Silence permeates the air, he can tell you're upset at him.

You always did the same when he was younger, turning away from him whenever he said something self-deprecating. You wouldn't speak to him until he said something positive about himself, to which you would turn around and smile. It always did make him feel better.

"If we end up having to run, I do hope you don't slip from the water on your feet."

"Well, maybe you could carry- Oh right you're not too strong in that area are you?" passive aggression is evident, so he understands you don't truly mean what you say to him. Silently, he scoots closer, testing the waters as to what you can tolerate from him. When he's shoulder to shoulder, he finally asks.

"... So what did I do exactly."

"Be stupid." a very vague reply. Typical from how long he's known you. He's sure he can suave his way out of your annoyance. He's ready to put on his charm and apologize all princely to you. He halts when he feels your hand grip tightly onto his. "... Don't disappear by yourself again..." You don't look at him when you say it, it sends a pang in his heart at the sight.

"... I was making sure you'd have-"

"Please, just... Don't leave me again. I... I'd miss you so much."

...

When he looks out at the sea, he no longer thinks home. He thinks about how you're such a hypocrite.

Jamil

He recalls when it was only the two of you trapped in the kitchen together. He insisted on gathering up leftovers for you so that you'd have enough energy for however long you'd be stuck in the school.

But, with how low supplies were, and the thought that there could be other survivors, had you deny him vehemently. The amount of ingredients could only really feed one person, and even then it wouldn't be enough sustenance.

You were always like this... helping when you didn't need to when you needed to care for yourself... It's frustrating, but, he can't deny the feeling of his heart softening when you care for him. It... was nice not having to work.

"You won't be able to find others if you can't even survive yourself." Jamil massages his nose bridge as you block the pantry, guarding the last few cans of food. "So please, let me make something for you."

"I'm sorry, but if there are other people who need it..." you zone out for a moment, allowing space in time for Jamil to take hold of you and hoist you over his shoulder. "Wha—Jamil...!" despite your struggles, his strength has him successfully sit you on one of the counters.

"You can't care for any other survivors if you can't care for yourself." you hiss when Jamil pinches your nose in reprimand. "So-"

"Then why aren't you eating for yourself?" your question has him quiet. "... I'd be fine with you eating the food if it's for you." ... Your naivety for survival has him frustrated, but the way you look at him has him soften. He's thinking of a reply but stops when he feels your fingers brush his hair behind his ear, a cold can on his lips.

"I'd be fine with anything as long as you don't die."

...

He shouldn't have listened to that sweet voice of yours. If he hadn't, maybe you could've dodged that bite in time.

Vil

He muses on being stuck in the theater room with you. It wasn’t the best place to be in during an outbreak, but it was the only place you could go to really. Vil places a blanket that had been left behind on your body, your head resting on destroyed couch cushions. It’s not the best, but all he could really provide you with.

He pauses for a moment looking down at your slumbering body, your inhales audible through the room. Typically, he would tell you about such a bad habit, but in the moment, he thinks he wants you to stay like that. It helps him remember that you’re there next to him in the hell that is reality.

The soft smile on his lips falls when he realizes what he’s about to do for you. But, it doesn’t fall because of his sacrifice, no… That’s really the only thing that has him ready to go through with it. The part that has him frowning is the cruel joke that you will no longer be there in his life, nor will he be there for yours.

He takes a few more seconds to absorb you, before standing up and turning heel to the door. Of course, he’s stopped by your hand pulling on his clothes. He should reprimand you for that, but the way you look at him holds him back.

“Where are you going Vil?” Your voice is still hoarse from the night you spent crying away. But it has him stiffen. “… You’re not leaving right?”

He should tell you the painful truth. Yes, he is. All because he needs you to live on, no matter the cost. He’s not going to let himself die, but if he must for your sake…

“… Don’t.”

“… It’s really not that simple—” you tug his shirt, his lithe figure falling on top of you. He thinks his acting skills always coincidentally fail whenever you’re involved because he’s sure you can see the way his perfect eyebrows furrow at the sight of you below him. He knows that the longer he looks at you the harder it’ll be to do what he has to… “It’s for you—”

“Nothing should be for only me… Vil…” say that one word, and it’s over for him. “Stay.”

…

A part of him wonders why you couldn’t listen to your own demands whenever he looks around his own dressing room.

Idia

He thinks you might’ve been his biggest nemesis, especially with that hero moment you pulled on him. He hates it so much, that he should be envious... You're basically a main character now...! Which...

Which means... you should come back right? To him?

Idia mentally replays when you both were stuck in the computer lab. The stuff in there wasn't nearly as high-tech as his own, but to him, it was better than being stuck in the gymnasium. A majority of the computers inside were wrecked, and unusable. A single screen worked though, Idia's fingers clicking the keyboard as you lean over him.

With the way he slams the table tells you something went wrong.

"There's no wifi...!" he leans back in the chair, burying his face in his hands. You can tell he's in distress, anyone would be. "How are we gonna get out—?!" Idia feels your hands pull him from his conflict, your eyes staring deep into his.

... You can't expect him to function properly when the friend he's been in love with for years is in kissing distance. His hair grows bright, the feeling of your hands on his face only making it flare even more.

"We'll get out." His lips part... Usually, this is where two love interest kiss right— He's cruelly reminded, however, that he's only a friend to you. Nothing more than the boy you played video games with. "Idia."

"Y-Yeah...?"

"Let's leave together, and play every game there is to play."

...

You never did get to play those games. And for once, Idia doesn't think he wants to play them anymore.

Malleus

He dreams of you. Specifically, he always finds himself in the gardens. It's a grotesque sight, overblots banging on the exterior, trying all manner of force to get in where the both of you stand. He's looking around, thinking of any way to get out without putting you in harm's way.

His face is stoic as he does it, an attempt to keep you calm while he thinks. Yet, you know him, if anything, despite his face, he's the one that needs to calm down. Coincidentally, you're one of the few who can do that.

"Stay here, I will go out and—" Malleus is interrupted by the feeling of your arm hooking onto his and dragging him far away from the view of the dead. "Wait, what are—" Despite questioning your actions, he doesn't attempt to stop them, he never has.

The feeling of you dragging him away is the equivalent of sneaking into the castle and bringing him out of his lonely solace, unknown to the senate. It's the only time back then, he would converse with anyone other than Lilia and the elders.

He will never stop you from dragging him away, not in reality, and not in his dreams.

"We're staying here until you make a plan that has us both put in danger." you shut the door of the garden shed, hiding you both from the hungry beasts that bang on the botanical garden's glass. Your arms are crossed as you look at him, and even with these circumstances, he can't help but think you make everything much livelier.

He knows the unfortunate answer to his feelings about you, but he will always imagine himself indulging in his deep rooted love.

But he still can't ever let harm come to you.

"Forgive me, but I can't." He takes a step closer to you, "I'm not letting that happen." He lets his words ruminate, your silence suffocating when he turns to leave. He's stopped when you pull him back, your arms hugging him from behind.

"It would be too lonely without you, Malleus."

...

Once again, he's the one who's left to be alone. And... He really thought you were the one to change that.

mmm... Reader and them having a Su-Hyeok (Former bully) and Nam-ra (Class President) dynamic instead... Being a halfbie desperate for human while (Insert Twst Character) desperately keeps you tethered to him because he's so in love... Sorry, my sadness from that series combined with book 7 hit hard 😔

[whisperofwonder]

Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!reader - 676 words

Kiyoomi isn't sure why he let Atsumu talk him into going out tonight. Even though it isn't the weekend yet, the bar is crowded and loud with conversation and laughter. His teammates are no exception.

"I'm serious," Atsumu insists, "I think ya should get a girl's number tonight, Omi."

"Not interested," Kiyoomi shrugs.

"Girls are nice," Bokuto pitches in, "They're soft and cute and they smell good." He's already a little tipsy. "Don't you think so, Omi?"

"Sure," He agrees, more to placate him than anything.

"Well then ya should get one's number!" Atsumu crows. "Seriously, Omi, live a little."

"It could be fun," Hinata adds.

Kiyoomi lets his expression speak for itself. "Aw, yer lame, Omi. Come on, just try it once," Atsumu prods. "I wanna see." He grins wolfishly. He turns in his seat to scan the room, finally turning back to Kiyoomi. "What about her? By the bar." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

Kiyoomi is poised to tell him to shove it, but then he follows Atsumu's line of sight to you. You're standing at the bar, giving the bartender a quick smile as you order your drink. You start tapping your fingertips absently on the bar top, glancing around as you wait.

"If I do it, will you quit bothering me?" Kiyoomi asks. "Like, for the next week?"

Atsumu's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "If ya actually get her number, I'll quit botherin' ya fer a month," He promises.

That's even more than Kiyoomi had hoped for. "Done." He stands, glancing once more at Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto. All three of them are trying a little too hard to mask their surprise. With that, he turns and makes his way to you, reaching the bar right as the bartender hands you your drink.

"Thank you," You accept it and turn to find him standing at your elbow, a smile curling across your face. "Hi."

"Hi," He echoes, returning your smile. "My friends over there told me I should try to get your number." He gestures with his chin in the direction of their table.

"Ah," You hum in understanding, smile turning teasing, "Well, I think I can do one better." With that, you give his shirt a tug, pulling him into a kiss. His response is immediate, hand coming to rest on your hip to pull you in closer.

Somewhere behind him, he thinks he hears the sound of Atsumu choking, then of Bokuto pounding him on the back. He can't help smirking into the kiss just a little bit before he pulls away, gaze caught on you for a few moments. "You want to get out of here?"

You duck your chin. "At least let me finish my drink," You say, toying with the straw.

"We can go back to my table," he offers, hand at the small of your back as he guides you back toward the trio. Hinata is whispering something to a shocked Bokuto, and Atsumu's mouth shuts with a snap as the two of you approach.

"Hi," You say cheerfully, and introduce yourself. They stammer out their names in turn, looking from you to Kiyoomi in thinly-veiled shock.

"Well, it was nice meeting you all," You finally say breezily, setting down your empty glass, "But I think we're heading out." You turn to Kiyoomi for confirmation, and he nods.

"Yup. I'll see you guys tomorrow." He lifts his hand in a wave, and barely waits for their stunned goodbyes before he guides you to the door with his hand at your elbow. You manage to make it outside before you dissolve into laughter.

"When are you going to tell them?" You ask when you can finally speak.

"Not sure yet," He muses. "I really was planning to introduce you tonight, but this turned out to be a lot more interesting." He turns to glance once more at the bar, reaching for your hand.

"You're cruel," You say with a laugh, tugging him close for another kiss.

"Believe me," Kiyoomi says drily, "They deserve it."

(inspired by a scene from How I Met Your Mother)

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Seven

— Little Big Movie Night

Series Masterlist

wc: 2.4k

Max kept his word and was entirely available so far out of the ten days between races. That is, if the two hours that were spent on an impromptu online meeting set up by the team principal don't count.

Max was actually at your place when he received the call, about to enjoy a movie and some popcorn with you and Isabella.

"Christian, with all due respect, it's seven pm. Can we push this to tomorrow morning?" Max walked towards the other end of the room but you heard his question, already understanding that something had come up.

After some hushed voices over the phone, Max returned with an apologetic look on his face. He began muttering your name slowly, but you shook your head, "you don't have to explain, it's fine."

That earned a frown on his face, "what? No, let me explain."

You remained silent, allowing him to go on. "Christian set up a meeting, so I was going to ask if there's a room I could use for a bit?"

Your lips parted, almost turning up in a smile, "you're not leaving?"

Max shook his head, "I figured I'd stay and we can watch the movie after the meeting's over, if that's fine with you?" He scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish smile on his face.

You couldn't contain the smile that graced your lips, "of course, that's totally fine. I have a little room I use as an office so we can set up there."

Leading Max towards your office, you quickly closed all the excess tabs on your laptop, and opened up a new one.

Then you looked back to see that Max was still standing by the door, looking around in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't really get to clean up today."

His head snapped towards you at your words, "no, don't apologize. I'm just admiring it, that's all." He walked closer to a cork board, which was covered in so much paper that you weren't able to see the brown board underneath.

Next to it was a whiteboard, with your handwriting scribbled onto it with dry erase markers since you jotted down some notes and reminders from a few days ago.

"What's there to admire about this mess?" You asked with a small laugh, partly at yourself because you had always kept this room tidy; it simply happened to be messy on the day someone other than you entered it.

"It tells me more about you," he spoke, but before you could utter a word he continued, "and no I don't mean it tells me that you're messy because you're not. It's just nice, that's all."

Pressing your lips together to prevent yet another smile, you nodded, "okay."

Max insisted that you should remain by his side until the meeting started, just in case something happened and he needed your help.

You chose not to comment on the fact that Max clearly knew how to use a laptop and did not require your assistance. Instead, you stood by his side as he sat in the chair, slightly bending over closer each time he asked a question while pointing at the screen.

Every time you inched a little closer, Max looked up at you with a fond smile on his face. He had to occupy his hand with something else such as typing or he would have pulled you down to sit on his lap.

"Max?" You spoke with a teasing smile once you realized his gaze wasn't wavering away from you. He hummed in response, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his lack of words.

"Your phone's ringing," you simply stated, causing him to look away from you for a moment as he noted the caller id, before looking back at you, this time with an annoyed expression on his face.

"It's Christian," he held the phone in his hand, contemplating whether or not he should answer.

"What do you think? Should I just ignore the call and the meeting, just watch the movie with you and Bella?" He asked with the phone still ringing.

"Max, if it wasn't important I don't think you'd have an impromptu meeting." He groaned, "but the movie, I don't want you both to wait."

You placed a hand on his shoulder, "we're not going anywhere, if anything, we can watch it another day. Plus, it's Cars 2, you have no idea how many times Bella watched it. I think she knows every line by heart."

That seemed to convince Max enough to join the meeting. You walked a step away right before he was about to turn on the camera, but Max caught your hand in his, pulling you back.

He placed a small kiss on the back of your hand before gesturing to his cheek. You couldn't contain the blush creeping up your cheeks as his lips touched your knuckles, but tinge grew deeper when you realized what his gesture meant.

In the spur of the moment, you had kissed Max's cheek while you were shopping a few days prior without a second thought. But it seemed to stick in Max's mind and instead of being repulsed by it, he wanted yet another kiss.

"I thought you didn't notice it," you mumbled, then your gaze moved towards the meeting screen, and noted that Max's camera and mic wasn't on.

"Your lips were on me, and you think I wouldn't notice it," he dropped your hand and turned in his chair, so his cheek was facing you.

"Max, are you there?" A voice sounded through the laptop, which brought both of your attention back on it. Max quickly leaned forward to unmute the microphone and spoke, "yeah, I'm here."

You chose that moment to grab his chin, turning it to the side and pressing a lingering kiss on his cheek. Max couldn't utter a word, eyes widening since he thought you wouldn't do it.

He also couldn't utter a word because now his microphone was unmuted, and anything he wanted to say could've been heard by everyone in the meeting.

He watched as you began leaving the room, turning back for a moment to look at Max's surprised face that quickly turned into something mischievous. You smiled cheekily, knowing exactly what you did, with no regrets.

"Turn your camera on mate," the voice belonging to someone from his team, but he couldn't care less about who it was, not with you running through his mind.

Max did as requested, and the first comment he received was from Christian, "that doesn't look like your apartment, where are you?"

He wanted to roll his eyes, but that would've been very unprofessional, so he stuck to something slightly less unprofessional, "can we just get started?"

Max leaned back in his chair, or rather in your chair, as he thought about what he could've said to you if he wasn't in this meeting.

Downstairs, your daughter was sitting on the couch with her favourite teddy bear and a light blanket as she asked, "where's Maxy, mama?"

"He's in a meeting, Bella. I don't know if we can watch a movie tonight," you sighed, knowing that it was a common answer you used to give her when she was younger.

"Just like daddy?" Isabella asked, speaking your thoughts out loud. You shrugged, because you didn't know what else to say.

You wanted to deny and tell her that the meeting Max is in, is nothing like the ones Tyler had. You wanted to tell her that Max really didn't want to join it because he wanted to spend time with her.

But that would simply lead her to wonder why it is different from her father's meetings. Then, you wouldn't be able to tell her that Tyler used to schedule "meetings" merely to cancel the plans with Isabella.

"I don't know, angel, but it shouldn't take too long," was the best answer you could come up with.

It did take a while before Max came back downstairs. A whole two hours to be exact. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he exclaimed as he neared you and Isabella.

While you nodded along, telling him that he didn't need to apologize, your daughter crossed her arms and turned her head away from Max.

"Not fair, Maxy," she muttered, inching closer to you and away from him. Max frowned, "I'm sorry, Bella, do you still want to watch the movie?"

She uncrossed her arms but didn't move any closer. "I already finished the popcorn," she muttered, and Max couldn't help but chuckle. However, his smile made her frown, "don't laugh at me," her crossed arms were back.

Max instantly stopped, and you held back your own giggle watching the interaction. "It's okay, we can make more," he suggested which made Isabella look up at you.

"Can we make more, mama?" You shrugged, "I thought you were upset with Max? Not anymore?" Although Isabella tried to be upset with Max, she truly wasn't. Max, however, gullibly played into her little scheme.

"No, meetings are important, I guess," she responded and clutched Max's legs like she always did. This time, Max picked her up, "you are also very important, Bella."

You watched as they walked into the kitchen, with your daughter leading Max towards the popcorn. He did it all while still holding Isabella, and that sparked a bright smile on your face.

You finished queuing up the movie as they returned to the couch, Isabella sitting between you and Max while holding a bowl of popcorn.

Around half an hour passed by before Isabella dozed off. She was cuddled against Max's side, still holding onto the bowl which you carefully retrieved from her without waking her up.

You reached out towards her, but paused as you tried to figure out how you could pick her up and away from Max without waking her up.

"It's okay, let me take her upstairs," Max suggested quietly before carrying your sleeping daughter to her bedroom. You followed, just in case, plus Max didn't know where her bedroom was.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched as he carefully tucked her in, which was a difficult task since Isabella didn't let go of her grasp on Max.

When he placed a short kiss on her forehead, and ran a hand over her head to smoothen out her hair, you turned away, no longer being able to watch such a gentle moment.

You walked back downstairs, with Max following moments later. Both of you looked at the tv screen where the movie was paused, then back to each other. "Do you want to continue?" He spoke your thoughts out loud.

You nodded, "sure."

This time, without Isabella sitting in between, you and Max were able to sit a lot closer. You grabbed the remote while Max held the bowl of popcorn.

Perhaps the movie was just a ploy to spend time together, to give Max a reason to stay longer because neither of you actually focused on the animation playing.

"How was the meeting?" You asked, making Max let out a groan. "The worst."

"It couldn't have been that bad," you commented, watching Max shake his head. "No, I never understood it when people say a meeting could've been an email, but this meeting—oh my god— it truly could've been an email."

You threw your head back with a laugh, "oh no, poor Max," you teased with your finger poking his cheek.

Before you could move it away, he linked his fingers with yours then facing the screen as if nothing happened. You looked at your linked fingers, smiling with a slight tinge growing on your cheeks before you looked ahead to focus on the movie.

Then, you felt his gaze on you, and you couldn't help but comment, "you're not watching." You turned your face to look at him, and he shrugged, "I can't help it, you're so beautiful."

"Such a flirt," you moved your hand away, briefly unlinking your fingers but before Max could protest, you shuffled closer to him, looping your arm with his and resting your head on his shoulder.

You couldn't concentrate on the movie anymore, and you weren't sure if it was because you'd seen it so many times with your daughter or because Max was tracing shapes with his fingertips on your thigh.

Feeling him shuffle around, you lifted your head to face him, "what's wrong?”

He shook his head but continued looking at you, this time with a look that seemed like he wanted to say something.

Max's thoughts were reeling inside his mind, trying to come up with the right words. So far, he's tried to remain calm around you, but with you so close to him in a way that seemed normal, he couldn't think.

Since he couldn't think, he mouth moved and spoke the words he had stuck in his mind for a while now, "can I take you out on a date?"

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, because out of all the words you expected to hear from him, it wasn't those. Well, you hoped he'd say it, but you didn't actually think he would.

Max mistook your surprise for denial and started spluttering with apologies, "sorry—um—that was unexpected—" he tried but the smile growing on your face told him to shut up.

"I was waiting for you to ask me out," you admitted, but Max still didn't sigh in relief. He needed another confirmation because right now, he could not believe the words you were saying.

"Is that a yes?" He only relaxed when you nodded, "yes, Max, I'd love to go on a date with you."

Then he sighed, a happy smile overtaking his face. "Thank god, I thought you were going to reject me."

Since Max stopped moving, you rested your head on his shoulder again, your arm still hooked with his but you slid your palm down until you met his. Max didn't think twice before threading his fingers between yours.

"Reject you? Never," you stated, and Max began thinking of how he was truly lucky to have met you.

"It's all because of Isabella," you answered his thoughts, making him realize that he had said it all out loud. He chuckled, "yeah, it is."

"For the record, I'm glad that I met you too," you stated, causing a slight blush to rise onto Max's cheeks but fortunately, you were focusing on the last few minutes of the movie.

This movie night might've gone in a different direction than Max expected, but the outcome was gladly appreciated. He didn't leave your hand even after the end credits ended, and you didn't move away either.

Taglist: (continuing the taglist in comments) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17 @phantomxoxo

[archangeldyke-all]

Ceo sevika being jealous about another ceo on another company trying to get reader to work for them🤭🤭

LOVE THIS

men and minors dni

"sevika, love of my life, my gorgeous girl, you're being ridiculous!" you laugh.

"i am not, she's trying to take you from me!" sevika growls from the passenger's seat.

usually, you drive the two of you to work and she drives you two home. today, though, you're driving home because you're worried sevika might actually crash the car she's so pissed off.

"who does she think she is, huh? ambessa medarda, what kind of fucking name is that?! all posh and fancy in her suit, trying to take my fucking wife from me--"

"she's not-- sevika!" you cackle.

ms. medarda had come in for a meeting with sevika, the two of them have been negotiating a deal for weeks now. over the countless meetings you'd attended with sevika and ambessa, you'd gotten to know the woman-- her coffee order, her favorite sandwich from the deli across the street-- normal things for a personal assistant to notice.

ambessa must have noticed your noticing, because she handed you a business card after this past meeting, and whispered under her breath to you. "i've been looking for a new personal assistant. give me a call if you ever get sick of this place and want to see the world."

you had told sevika with a chuckle, assuming your wife would find the suggestion of you leaving as ridiculous as you had.

you were wrong.

"fuck her. fuck this whole deal. she can go fuck herself if she thinks she can just waltz into my office, my business, and flirt with my fucking wife."

"she did not flirt with me!" you cackle. "she's on her fifth marriage to a man, sev, i don't think i'm her type."

"of course you're her type, you're everyone's type." sevika grumbles. you snort and reach across the center console to grab her hand.

"well, you're my type." you say. sevika huffs. "i don't think she even knows we're married baby. i think she was just genuinely asking for a new assistant."

"that's still fucking rude! you're the best assistant i've ever had and she's trying to fuckin' poach you from me."

you snort. "baby, it's business. it's all rude."

sevika huffs. it's quiet for a few minutes, you let your wife stew while you try not to laugh at how unnecessarily possessive she's being.

you pull into the parking garage, and sevika holds a hand out. "don't get out." she demands, running out of the passenger's side and around the car to open the door for you. you cackle.

"thank you, dear." you say, kissing her cheek. sevika smiles a little before letting her angry pout return. you snort. "you know i'd never leave you, right? not at work, and not in life."

sevika sighs and intertwines her fingers with yours as you walk toward the elevator. "i know." she mutters. "it's just... i show you the world, right?" she asks.

you coo and wrap sevika up for a hug. "sev, baby." she relaxes in your arms as you gently sway her in the middle of the parking garage. "you treat me wonderfully. we travel for work and leisure often. we eat well every night. we wear tailored clothes and drive luxury cars. but i don't really give a shit about any of that because all i really need is you." you remind her. "ambessa could offer me the world and i'd still turn her down baby. she's just not you."

sevika stays wrapped up in your arms for a few more minutes. you guys get a few strange looks from neighbors and security, but nobody says anything. when she finally pulls away, her eyes are red-rimmed and shiny, and she's got a shaky smile on her lips-- the same one she wore on your wedding day.

"okay." she says. you smile at her. "but the deal with ambessa is still off. i want you to cancel all my meetings with her first thing tomorrow morning."

you burst into laughter, and sevika smiles at the sound.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Six - Friends

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie wants to give you the world. And when she's away from you, you miss each other terribly. And how will Janine and Sinc react when they find out the good news?

Warnings: G!P smut. Phone sex. Masturbation (and getting caught). Language.

A/N: Mostly fluff, but a sprinkle of smut in there as well ;) I’m also not promoting one birth plan over another - that’s totally personal to each person/couple and this is just a story! Rest of the series can be found here.

You were curled up against Jessie on the couch, your knees tucked in and leaning against her leg. You were on your phone and she idly caressed your thigh as she only half-intently watched a documentary on TV. Her mind was preoccupied with various thoughts when you piped up.

"We're all set for the midwife's visit tomorrow, right?" You asked.

"Hm?" Jessie asked idly before giving her head a subtle shake and coming to. "Yeah, we're set."

Jessie watched you as you nodded and returned to your phone. You floated the idea out there early on to do a home birth and, although you were both tentative - safety and concern top of mind - Jessie loved the idea of you two bringing your little one into the world in the comfort of your own home instead of a cold, impersonal hospital room.

You'd both done research into risks, what was involved, and talked with Dr. Mal about options. She connected you with a midwifery practice that offered collaborative care with her clinic. They'd still go for major appointments at Dr. Mal's, but all information would be available to both and Jessie and you would get more personal, flexible care through the midwife. Between that continuity of care and upon meeting the team, Jessie relaxed.

Tomorrow your midwife would stop by your apartment for a home visit to explore if it was an option and to further talk through birth plans.

In fact, that's kind of what was on Jessie's mind. She chewed the inside of her lip and toyed with the hem of your shorts.

"What's wrong?" You asked, interrupting her thoughts and causing her to look at you in surprise once more. You smirked at her. "You're fidgeting."

"Just thinking," Jessie said slowly, almost pouting though she finished with a short laugh.

"Yeah? What about?" You asked as you gently played with her hair and awaited an answer.

Jessie pulled you onto her lap, you releasing a laugh as she maneuvered you. Your fingers automatically laced around the back of her neck and her hands rested on your waist as she looked up at you.

"I'm just wondering if this visit tomorrow might be a bit moot. At least part of it." She held back a smile at how you screwed up your face at her. Her gaze flit away and she shrugged. "I just don't know if we'll be giving birth here."

"What do you mean?" You asked. "I thought we both wanted that. I mean, yes, we need a hospital transfer plan, but I thought the goal was to have the baby here," you went on, concern creeping onto your features.

"But what if I want to buy us a house?" Jessie asked nonchalantly, allowing a hint of a smile to cross her lips.

You shook your head out. "I'm sorry - what?" Jessie laughed, rubbing her hands up your sides.

"A house," she repeated as if it was simple and obvious. Now she smiled fully at you. "We could use more space. You have to admit - it's going to be a bit tight in here as our kid gets older. And, you know, we talked about the possibility of a second," she finished, her smile turning shy. She watched as you seemed to ready a rebuttal, but ultimately relented.

"I suppose. But we can make it work for a while," you compromised. Jessie gave you a look.

"Why though?" She asked. "We have the money. It would be nice to get settled into a new home before the baby arrives, not fighting for every foot of space for items. Plus the noise," Jessie went on as she gestured down the hall.

"I see you've put some thought into this," you said with a smirk as you tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Maybe." She grinned, before growing earnest. "I want us to have a home together. I know this is our home, but...I want a house for us. I want a yard where the little one and I, "she rest her hand on your still-flat stomach, "can kick the ball around. Run around the backyard. Water fights in summer. And if there's ever snow - build a snowman together. Maybe I can build them a little treehouse, too. Buy a dog!"

A smile had crept onto your face as she spoke with increasing enthusiasm. She waited quietly as you contemplated. It only took you a few seconds before gave an affectionate roll of your eyes.

"Domestication is hitting you hard, Fleming," you teased before you leaned in to kiss her.

"This is what I've always wanted," Jessie said quietly before cracking a faint smirk. "I can't help it if it took so long to meet you." You rolled your eyes good-naturedly at her once more, spurring a wave of affection in her.

"Charmer," you deadpanned as you kissed her again; slowly this time. "Fine. A house it is. But none of this ‘I’m buying a house for us’ business. We will buy a house together.”

“Deal.”

-------

"Hey, baby," you greeted, your voice feeding through Jessie's airpods as she sat on her bed, knees up with her arms resting on them as she held up her phone in front of her as she Facetimed you. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I know," Jessie said, smiling quietly at you through the screen. "Janine and a few others are checking out some shops in town here. Figured I'd take it an opportunity to get some solitude."

"So you called me," you teased.

"Of course," she replied easily, tilting her chin up rather pleased with herself. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," you told her, holding up crossed fingers so she could see. "I don't want to jinx anything, but...maybe this second trimester, no morning sickness thing may be true."

"I really hope so," Jessie told you earnestly. "I know how hard it's been for you." You raised your eyebrows in agreement, but smirked at her.

"Thankfully, I have a very thoughtful, doting girlfriend who took great care of me throughout."

"Least I could do," she laughed and you arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, actually. I guess that's true," you agreed before laughing furthermore. "Still. I appreciate you." You went on. "So, enough about me. How's Orlando? How was practice today?"

Jessie relayed how the day went and any little quirks that had come up.

"I saw the videos your team put up today of training," you relayed. "You looked amazing."

"Oh." Jessie laughed, somehow still blushing after all this time. "Well, thank you."

You whined. "I wish that sexy body of yours was over here instead."

"Oh," Jessie said again, further caught off guard though a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You really are feeling better."

"Yeah," you said, nodding earnestly. "And I'm fucking horny. It's worse than before, Jess. I swear."

Jessie averted her gaze, suddenly extra alert and nervous about her whereabouts. Sure, she was in her room, but still. She looked back to you and gave you a coy smile.

"Well. I wish I was there to help you," she said simply. You groaned and rolled your eyes and entirely not in the way she was accustomed to.

"Babe," you whined. "You have to do better than that."

"I can't right now," Jessie whispered unnecessarily as she peered around. You pouted.

"I thought you said Janine went out."

"She did," Jessie said with a small sigh of exasperation. It's true - she should be gone for a while. She was paranoid still, but logically speaking, she did have a window of opportunity.

"Fine," you said, relenting with a mild eye roll. You took a breath to reset and started anew. "So what's tomorrow looking like for you guys?"

"Well, hold on," Jessie interjected, not happy with how things ended. Her gaze darted left to right in the empty room until she settled on you again with a small gesturing nod. "If you're so worked up," she paused momentarily, a smirk forming, "why don't you tell me how worked up you are."

You gave her a scrutinizing, lingering look before you set your shoulders back and gave a faint smile of victory.

"Not sure you deserve to know," you taunted with a glint in your eye. Jessie's jaw fell agape, affronted by your accusation.

"Baby," she implored. "I want to know more than anything." Her breathing deepened subconsciously. She whispered. "Now, be a good girl, slip your fingers inside your underwear and tell me how wet you are for me."

You groaned again, this time exactly in the way she wanted you to. She watched intently as you bit your lip and she could see your shoulder moving and flexing as you began to touch yourself.

"Oh fuck, Jess." Your eyes drifted shut as you made contact and all she could do was sit there as your shoulders rose and fell, your head tossed back. You opened your eyes to look at her. "I'm absolutely dripping for you." You moaned softly, eyes falling shut once more. "I need you so bad."

Jessie exhaled steadily, needing to avert her gaze, but that doing nothing to limit the effect your husky voice and needy moans were having on her. She bit her lips together, eyes trained on the wall as she tried to will away the sensation of her cock starting to swell with arousal. You really were a siren call to her and no matter how many times she had you, she was still powerless under your influence.

"God, I wish I was riding your cock right now," you breathed. Jessie's eyes screwed shut at the vision of it and she cleared her throat. Despite her intentions, she opened her eyes once more to look at you and was met with video of your body writhing as you continued to pleasure yourself.

"Babe, you gotta cool it," Jessie urged you as she glanced down to see her shorts tenting. You opened your eyes, hooded with lust, to look at her with a cocky smirk.

"Why? Is my baby getting worked up?" You asked knowing damn well what the answer was. "Do you need my mouth on your cock? I love when you gently nudge the back of my throat, your hips softly bucking, when I know full well you want to fuck my throat."

"Jesus," Jessie hissed, eyes averting once more as her cheeks began to flash crimson.

"Or should we just cut straight to it. Me bouncing up and down on your thick cock. It feels so incredible when you fill me up." You moaned. "I love when you take it slow, taking such good care of me, so attentive. But nothing beats when you lose control and you fuck me like your life depends on it. Like there's nothing else in this world."

"Oh God," Jessie groaned through grit teeth as she looked up at the ceiling. She didn't need to check to know that her shorts were fully tented now.

"Shit," she mumbled as she reached under her waistband and into her shorts. Her eyes shut as soon as she wrapped her hand around her hard on. "God, what you do to me," Jessie said.

She blew out a steady breath as she circled her sensitive head with her thumb.

“Mm, fuck, I’m so hard for you, babe. I just want to be inside of that hot, tight pussy of yours,” she said. You moaned in her ear and she reciprocated. "I wish-"

A cold wave of panic went over her as her moment of relief was cutoff by the sound of the hotel door unlocking and swinging open.

"Jess, have you seen my wallet?"

"Fuck," Jessie hissed under her breath as she retracted her hand from her shorts as fast as possible. She turned away from the entryway where Janine and who knows else would be appearing any moment now. Her hands shook she frantically snatched up a pillow and clutched it to her as she laid on her side and tried to look like she was casually Facetiming you. She couldn't mask the glare she shot you as you stifled laughter.

"Oh hey," Jessie feigned faint surprise as Janine, Kelli and Sam appeared.

"Hi," Janine said absently as she began tossing clothes around as she looked for her wallet. "So have you seen my wallet?"

"No," Jessie said curtly, eyes on the blonde and then the others briefly before facing you once more.

"Can they hear me?" You asked quietly and Jessie narrowed her eyes at you in another glare as she did her best to ignore the incessant throbbing between her legs. "No," she nearly grumbled.

Kelli leaned over Jessie's laying form and waved at you. "Hi wifey!" You waved back entirely casually as though you weren't just fingering yourself 10 seconds ago.

"Jess can you get up and help me look," Janine complained as she continued to tear the room apart.

"Find it yourself," Jessie refuted with a frown. Janine grumbled and stomped over to the brunette, snatching her phone and one of her airpods out of her ear to wear it. Jessie leaned up slightly to try to grab it, but couldn't fully without risking losing her cover.

"Hi, love," Janine greeted sweetly before her face fell. "Can you tell Jessie to get up and help me?"

"Uh, I can try," you said slowly, holding back a laugh. Jessie could still hear you in the remaining earpiece. "But she's tired from practice. I bet Kelli's great at scavenger hunts."

Janine rolled her eyes at you and huffed. "Should've known you'd side with her." She sighed once more and grabbed the pillow, giving it a tug. Jessie held onto it tightly. At this, Janine frowned.

"What the- come on, Jess," she implored as she tugged harder on the pillow, Jessie reciprocating the same.

"Just take my wallet," Jessie complained. "I'm trying to rest and talk to my girlfriend. Leave me alone."

In a flash, all three of her teammates reamed on the pillow and left Jessie still fully tented shorts exposed. Janine literally screamed and covered her eyes, while the others gasped and started laughing riotously.

"Fuck off," Jessie yelled as she grabbed the other pillow and sat up laying it on her. Her face burned immensely hot as she swatted at her friends to get out.

"Oh my God, babe," she heard you say through conflicted laughter. "I'm so sorry." Janine yelled again and tossed the phone onto the bed like it scalded her and she gave Jessie back her airpod.

"You can have her back," she yelled for you to hear. "And yeah. I'm taking your wallet. Oh my gosh, you two. It's only been a day. Get it together."

-------

It was no surprise when Jessie received relentless teasing from the entire team the following day. She pouted and grumbled, trying now and then to deflect with bravado, but for the most part she spent the better half of the day with her hood up, blushing and dodging jokes. Thankfully, by the time the ride to the stadium came around people had mostly moved on.

She'd texted with you throughout the day, you commiserating and apologizing for yesterday's event. She wasn't actually mad; it was fun while it lasted and she just didn't like attention at the best of times, never mind for something like this.

The game went well, Jessie played the full 90 and though she didn't log an assist or a goal, her stats were still solid and she felt good about things.

That evening, back at the hotel she sat around with Janine and Sinc. She was grateful that even after retiring from club play, Sinc came on staff as an offensive coach for forward and attacking midfielders.

They were all chatting when Jessie's phone buzzed. She looked to see a message from you. It was a listing for a house along with a message:

A south facing yard just for you and our little one. So you can play football together until the late hours of the night.

"I'd ask, "What's got you smiling like that?" but honestly, I'm afraid to," Janine quipped. “And I don’t need to ask ‘Who’.”

Jessie lifted her head in delayed recognition of Janine's question, only afterward realizing she was still smiling.

With you now officially just entering your second trimester, you were at a stage where you could share the news. She wanted to tell her friends before a more formal announcement went out to acquaintances and others. You told her to do it whenever and however felt right. She didn't know how that looked, but, sitting here with two of her oldest friends, it seemed clear.

"Um," she started, putting her phone away and taking a breath, she ignored how they both frowned at her. "I was smiling because Y/N and I are looking at buying a house."

Janine's jaw dropped in surprise and Christine nodded in approval. Janine started asking a million questions and Jessie calmly cut her off.

"There are lots of reasons we'd want a house, but, the biggest is," she paused, shrugging lightly, "we need the space. Because, our family is growing." She could see the wheels turning inside their heads and she smiled as she went on. "Y/N's pregnant. We're having a baby."

If Janine was surprised before, she was absolutely beyond now. Even Sinclair's jaw hit the floor.

Before Jessie knew it, Janine flung herself across the space between them and threw herself onto Jessie in a bear hug.

"Oh my God!" She exclaimed. "That is so exciting! I'm so happy for you!" When she pulled back, tears were in her eyes, immediately causing tears to spring to Jessie's. Something seemed to spark in Janine’s mind as she paused, all excitement on hold as she eyed the brunette. "Wait - you're excited, right? It's a good thing?"

"Oh my God," Jessie frowned as she gave Janine a light shove. "Of course it's a good thing. This was planned," she said in exaggeration. "Geez." She rolled her eyes. "I'm very excited."

"Okay, great," Janine said, all of her previous enthusiasm coming right back. "Oh my gosh! I want to plan the baby shower. Wait - will she let me? Probably not. Well, I can throw one for you! Why not!"

"Okay, okay," Sinc said as she put a hand on Janine's shoulder and got her sit back down. "Give the woman some space to breathe. There's still lots of time for you to insert yourself into this whole journey," she joked, side-eying the girl.

Janine now settled, Sinclair got up and Jessie rose to be pulled into a hug.

"Congrats, kid," Christine said before chuckling. "Guess I can't call you that anymore."

She pulled back, holding Jessie by the shoulders as she smiled at her, giving a small shake of her head. "Crazy to think. I met you when you were just a kid. And since then you've built this incredible career - top teams, Olympic medals, National team captain," she said with a wink, "and you've never let any of it go to your head. Still just as humble and sweet today as you were back then. You met this awesome woman who makes you happier than I've ever seen you, and now you two are having a kid of your own. It's amazing. I'm proud of you and I'm so happy for you."

By now, Jessie was, rather unsuccessfully, blinking back tears. Sinclair chuckled, tousling Jessie's hair.

"But you're still a bit of a crier," she teased. "That's okay. That kid is going to be so lucky to have you as a parent. Couldn't ask for better."

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Epilogue

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Dropping this a bit early since tomorrow's a holiday!~ But here we're finally getting to the unplanned epilogue for ATW! The claim bond in this is not unlike the soulmate AU I just wrote for Beau. Guess I have a type on this stuff. 😂 Get ready for some family feels! 🥰

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Posted on Patreon: 4/13/2025

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff, smidge of angst, hint of jealous alpha Dean, tinge of spice~

🧡 Series Masterlist

Epilogue: Shelter

"Someone told me there's a girl out there, with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair..."

You’ve given him a new reason to love Zeppelin IV, Dean thinks. He sneaks another glance at you. The two of you haven’t said anything for almost an hour on this two-day road trip, now almost at an end. But when you notice his gaze on you, the smile you give him is golden.

It makes him feel a little boyish and dumb, like he’s a teenager getting caught staring at his crush. His face starts to get warm, his lips curving upward, so he clears his throat and focuses back on the stretch of road ahead.

The scenery has turned rural, with stretches of wheat-yellow grass and patches of forest on either side of the gray, gravel strip. Out here in Northern California, it’s not so bad as its southern menace—cities like L.A., San Francisco, and Sacramento. Dean can roll the windows down out here and not be assaulted by the mingling scents of exhaust, vegan Tex Mex, overpriced cologne, and broken fucking dreams. 

“Almost there,” Dean says, lowering the radio a bit. He points to a big curve in the road up ahead. “If I remember right, we’ve just got this stretch to go.”

You suck in a subtle, but noticeable breath.

“Great.”

Your voice is a little high. Dean raises a brow at you. He concentrates for a moment to suss you out, and he feels a thread of your anxiety through the bond. It’s been just over two weeks since he claimed you, but in that time living such close quarters, practically breathing each other’s air day in and day out, he hasn’t just been getting to know you a hell of a lot more. He’s also starting to understand this private WIFI connection you guys have going on.

Sam tried to explain it to him once, what it feels like after the claim.

“It’s like the world just…shifts on its axis a bit,” he said. “Your awareness expands. You’re connected, in a way that’s kind of…well, it’s hard to explain.”

“Okay, Obi Wan,” Dean chortled. He eyed his brother with amusement, but also with a slight shake of his head. The guy looked fucking twitterpated.

Sam shot him a wry look. “All right, Dean. Just wait. If you ever take that step with an omega, you’ll see. It changes everything.”

Dean held in another snort of laughter. If? Fat fucking chance.

He had no illusions about his life. Not at this point. They both knew he was probably going to die in this bunker, or more likely, on one of these solo hunts he’d started pulling. Sam was busy packing, ready to move out and settle down with Eileen, his mate, his omega—ready to leave his old life behind, and his brother along with it.

Dean was happy for him though. Of fucking course, he was.

He raised the glass of cheap whiskey to his lips. 

Dean considers you with half a smile, reaching over smooth a hand along your thigh.

“You okay, ‘Mega?” he asks.

Your lower lip gets pulled between your teeth. You nibble on it, even as you slip your hand over his. You turn to him with a question in your eyes. He already knows the answer, even before you ask.

“I know this was my idea, but you still think this is… It’s not too soon?” you ask.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. He’s gonna like you, sweetheart. They all will.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?”

He tosses you a grin. “Because I like you. And I’m an excellent judge of character.”

He punctuates his point with a kiss pressed to the back of your hand. Your lips tug at a smile.

Mission accomplished.

“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” you tease.

He shrugs, but his crinkly-eyed grin says it all. You settle back in your seat and relax a little better for the rest of the ride. 

You can’t help it. Your anxiety swells back to life as the Impala pulls up the slight hill into a U-shaped driveway, rolling to a stop at a modest ranch-style house. It’s mostly made of rust-colored brick, a white roof with pale gray tiles. Even the walk-up to the porch is lined with brick and white stones. You also notice a little green toddler bike lying on its side in the front yard, where it seems to have dented a sprinkler.

You tread carefully up the pavement on your crutches.

Yeah, your ankle is unfortunately still busted; fractured, to be exact. You’ll be wearing this big ol’ boot on your right foot for two more months at least, but Dean has a hand resting comfortably on the small of your back, a support you appreciate. He gives you one last knowing smile, his thumb brushing your spine.

Then he knocks on the door. His brother and his wife know you and Dean are coming, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking, now knowing what you know about your mate and his family. You know about monsters and terrible, evil things mostly put to rest. You know that Sam and Dean Winchester have quite literally saved the world, more than once.

But it’s not just that. You’re about to meet the only family Dean has left in this world. What if they take one look at you and know you’re not like them? What if they think you’re not enough for someone like Dean?

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice washing over you.

You glance up at your mate, biting the inside of your cheek. Can he feel your nervousness through the bond? You try to bottle it all back up where it belongs, but you’re not really sure how to do that yet. You don’t know if that will change the longer you get used to the soul bond thrumming in your chest, but right now, it feels impossible to hide anything from this green-eyed mountain of an alpha.

Dean shoots you a wink.

The door opens. An even taller lumberjack takes up the entire doorway with his broad shoulders, a light beard down to his neck, and longer, darker hair almost brushing his shoulders. He brightens with a smile when he takes in you and Dean, especially his brother.

He chuckles and pulls Dean into a grappling hug. Dean’s smile is ear-to-ear as he wraps his arms tight around his little brother’s frame, thumping his back with a widespread hand.

“There he is,” Dean says. “But what’d I tell you about that shag carpet on your face? You look like a fucking hippie.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Just as he’s about to answer, no doubt with a dry retort, the patter of little feet come sprinting over, and something knocks heavy into Dean’s bowlegged knees. He looks down and breaks into a new smile, even warmer than the last.

“Hey, little man,” Dean says, bending low to scoop the two-year-old into his arms. The toddler giggles at being raised as high up as his dad carries him.

“Unc!” Dean Jr. exclaims, raising small hands to Dean Sr.’s prickly cheeks. Dean grins and settles the boy on his side.

“You remember me?” he asks.

“‘Course he does,” Sam says, rubbing his son’s back. “He’s always hearing stories of his Uncle Dean. I show him the old pictures too.”

The brothers share a look, one that communicates without speaking. Dean’s is bittersweet and sorry. Sorry it took so long for him to get back here. Sorry for what he’s probably missed. But Sam’s smile isn’t judging, just happy to see him. He turns to you though, apologetically.

“I’m sorry, getting carried away here. Hi, how are you?” he asks.

Dean finally notices you keeping to the side, watching them with a soft smile of your own. You step forward to shake Sam’s hand, carefully taking yours off your right crutch. Dean clears his throat and moves to slip his arm back around your waist, not just for the physical support, but for solidarity.

After you introduce yourselves, Dean finally chimes in.

“Sammy, this is my mate,” he says. The pride and warmth in his eyes are evident as he squeezes your shoulder. Your face heats in a blush, but when you look over at Sam, all you see is a sincere welcome.

“Yeah, I was glad to hear someone finally tied him down,” he says. But then, his good humor sobers, becoming more earnest. “I also heard about your dad. I’m really sorry.”

You shutter up at that one. You’re both surprised and unsurprised, knowing Dean must’ve told him the full story of how you two met, but the mention of your father still makes your lungs tighten. You manage to smile a little.

“Thank you,” you reply. Dean squeezes your shoulder again, his thumb brushing your neck. You lean into him a little, bringing you face to face with Sam’s mini-me, who still hangs on Dean’s shoulder while he stares at you. “Mini Dean” has those big brown eyes that you saw in all the pictures on Dean’s phone, now with shaggier hair and a sweet-as-pie grin.

“Hi,” Mini Dean says shyly.

“Hey, buddy! You’ve almost got your whole fist in your mouth, huh?” you tease, stroking the toddler’s wrist. He looks a little unsure of you, but he reaches out and grabs at a piece of your hair. You let him do it.

“Ooh, you caught me, huh?”

He giggles, especially when you playfully poke your tongue out at him.

Dean’s smirking hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. His gaze lifts from watching you with his nephew and lands on Sam’s softer smile.

Sam welcomes you all into the house, where Eileen finally comes to meet you all. She looks a little frazzled, but still beautiful. Her dark brown eyes take you in before she greets you kindly. She and Sam look just as casual as you and Dean, jeans and flannels or comfortable sweaters.

Lots of flannel, you notice, with your mate and his brother.

“Sorry, was working on dinner,” she says, with an embarrassed smile. “Hope you guys like burnt chili.”

“Honestly I don’t think you can burn chili,” you say, as she leads you all further into the house. “It just enhances the smokiness.”

“Smells good to me,” Dean says. “And right on time, too.” The mention of food is already making his stomach rumble to life. You toss him a look over your shoulder, smiling in amusement. You reach back at pat your man’s stomach.

“You’re always ready to go,” you tease. He grabs onto your hand. It makes you stop for a moment, since you kind of need that hand for your crutch.

“Got that right, baby. Locked and loaded,” he whispers suggestively near your ear. Your eyes widen. You shush him with a laugh, covering his nephew’s ears. He’s incorrigible.

“Already corrupting my son, huh?” Sam says. His tone is censuring, but still amused when he takes Dean Jr. off his brother’s hands.

“Aw, who else is gonna educate the kid?” Dean jokes.

“He’s two,” Sam says dryly. “Maybe wait until he’s in preschool, at least.”

Eileen had nothing to worry about, and not only because your mate always inhales his food (and seconds and thirds) like it’s his last meal. She even made cornbread to go along with the chili.

“From a box,” she’d said demurely.

Regardless, there’s nothing quite like a good hearty bowl of the stuff with a beer and nice, warm, buttery cornbread. Sam even bought a Dutch apple pie for dessert, sending his brother a knowing look when he brings it out.

You all talk and laugh and share stories throughout dinner, even after the conversation moves from the dining table to the living room, where Dean Jr. takes turns getting doted on. He starts out in Eileen’s lap with one of his toys, but then he goes to his name’s sake, even giving Dean an action figure to engage him in battle.

After a while though, the boy starts to get sleepy. He tuckers out on the couch between you and Dean, half splayed in your lap with his head resting in the crook of your arm, while Dean has his sock-covered feet.

“Okay, we should probably get that one officially to bed,” Sam says, jutting a chin over at his son in amusement.

You feel special that the toddler already felt comfortable enough with you to literally fall asleep in your arms, but you glance down at his head with a smile.

“Aw, I’m okay being his body pillow. I’ll just sleep sitting up,” you say, laughing.

Eileen smiles and shakes her head. She signs as she says, “He’s already got you wrapped around his finger.”

“One hundred percent,” you giggle. You grab at his little feet, gently so he doesn’t wake up. “I mean, look at these! I just wanna eat ‘em.”

You look up and happen to meet Dean’s gaze. He hides a grin behind his right hand from where he’s reclined in his corner of the couch. His left hand holds a beer perched on his jean-clad thigh. His eyes, however, roam over you and his nephew with a certain gleam. A blush warms your cheeks.

Eileen eventually takes the little one off your hands. You playfully pout as he leaves you, but it gives you the chance to get up and stretch—and find the bathroom. Sam and Dean are left to sit in a comfortable silence that lingers, just until Dean inhales a deep breath.

“Gotta hand it to you, Sammy. You ain’t done half bad,” he says.

Sam quirks a brow, beginning to smile. “I could say the same to you.”

Dean’s lips twitch, but he stares down at his beer. Something uncertain passes through his eyes.

“How much have you told her?” Sam asks.

“Enough,” Dean replies, after a pause. “More than I fucking wanted to, really. It all just kind of…happened.”

Sam’s mouth quirks at the corners. “Stuck in a cabin for two weeks. Hell of a way to get through the get to know you, phase.”

At that, Dean smirks. “Yeah well, after the heavy shit, we weren’t doing all that much talking.”

Sam sighs, rolling his eyes. But he’s happy for his brother—happy and relieved. Dean’s wellbeing has been a weight on Sam’s mind ever since he left the bunker. No matter how many phone calls and texts, some going unanswered for longer stretches than Sam would like, part of him has felt the familiar guilt of starting over, even though he logically knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He just underestimated, again, how hard it would be for Dean.  

Hell, he felt he had to hike up to a cabin in the damn mountains just for something different, a change of pace from drinking alone in the bunker. Sam wonders if Dean was embracing the solitude at that point, or if he was even planning to come back down the mountain.

And despite Jack’s promise to be “hands off,” Sam also wonders if their friend Upstairs had a hand in how you fell while hiking that day. Injuring your ankle. The blizzard. Had it all literally been the perfect storm?

Sam will never voice the thought out loud though. He’s just grateful…even if it is strange as hell to see Dean this way. All night, the man had never strayed very far from your side. He’s been there to reach out a helping hand to you whenever you needed to get up from your seat, raising yourself on your crutches.

And the way you two look at each other. Sometimes it’s just a check-in, a brief touch, and a confirmation. Sometimes it looks like an inside joke, with Dean’s suggestively waggling brows and signature smirk. (You usually look away first, as if fighting a blush.) But sometimes, it’s like a whole conversation passes between you and Dean in just that one moment.

Is that what Sam’s own bond looks like with his mate?

Probably, he thinks with a smile.

“It changed everything, right?” Sam asks.

Finding her. Claiming her. Dean understands what his brother’s getting at with those unspoken words. His gaze rises from his beer. He stares back at Sam and shakes his head.

“Yeah,” he agrees, however reluctantly.

It’s a heavy fucking weight of responsibility, with the lives they’ve led and the enemies they’ve made along the way, but Dean can’t bring himself to regret it. There’s too much of you in his heart already, filling those jagged, frayed, broken parts with smooth muscle and sinew, and new red life blood pumping again.

What he said to you that night still rings true.

It’s too damn late to let go.

That night, Dean falls asleep before you. His light snorts fill the guest room, and after almost a whole day on the road, you’d love nothing more than to join him in dreamland. You’re not sure what’s stopping you. It could be that it usually takes you a while to fall asleep in a new place and an unfamiliar bed, but it could also be your overactive mind still racing with today, and possibilities of tomorrow.

Sam and Eileen had offered for you and Dean to stay for a few days before you continued on your way, or even a week if you wanted. After that, Dean had agreed to take you home and meet your mom. After that though, what? Your job hadn’t been so understanding when you called and told them you’d gotten snowed in a cabin in Montana of all places, with no access to cell service or internet for almost a month.

So yeah, they let you go. It wasn’t a job you were in love with, and of course, meeting Dean is worth more to you than any job…but it had been paying your bills, even while living at your mother's house to help her after your dad's death.

I’ll figure it out…we’ll figure it out, you remind yourself. You’re eventually planning to go back with Dean to that bunker he’s been talking about. At least it’s in Kansas, somewhat close to your sister. From there, you’ll both have figure out the job thing, and potentially the house thing. You’re not totally sure about living in a bunker. 

These thoughts keep you up long enough that you heave a sigh and slip out of bed. A drink of water (and a few minutes of mindless pacing) might settle you a little. Somehow, the last thing you expected upon entering the kitchen was to run into Sam boiling water on the stove. He looks over his shoulder at you in surprise.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“Heyyy,” you give an awkward wave. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Haven’t tried yet,” he admits. “Dean woke up about an hour after we set him down. He’s been finnicky, but finally got him to lay back down.”

At first you’re confused, until it hits you.

“Ah, you mean Mini Dean,” you say, smiling. “Aw, poor baby. He’s at that stage, huh?”

He chuckles wryly. “It’s called Terrible Twos for a reason. Want some tea?” He gestures at the mug he has waiting on the counter.

You agree, thanking him before you sit down at the two-seater breakfast nook in the kitchen. He pours you a mug as well and sits across from you. Silence threatens to reign between you, but you eventually break it.

“Thank you, by the way. For having me here too,” you say. “I know you weren’t exactly expecting me.”

Sam breaks into a smile. “Honestly, I’m the one who should probably be thanking you.”

You blink in surprise.

“Me? I haven’t done anything.” Your lips pull at a smile though, your fingertip tracing the rim of your mug. “Dean’s the one who took care of me. Still is, really. He’s the one who saved me, more than once.”

Sam tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that. But, uh, something tells me you saved him a little too.”

You look up at that, mostly in disbelief. You gave Dean a headache from the beginning. You’d needed his help all the time with your damn ankle. You poked your nose into his business, invaded his privacy, almost got him killed hunting that monster. What was it? Ah, right. A fucking Wendigo.

After all of it, he came back to you. He brought you closure for your father’s death, and held you when you fell apart. And when you kissed him, asked him with your whole heart to let you in, he broke through his own reservations to do it.

“Even if I did, it probably doesn’t even put a dent in what I owe him,” you say after a moment. Tears sting in your eyes, though you try to blink them away, taking in a subtle breath to try and steady yourself.

Sam’s eyes soften. He reaches across the small table and lays a hand on your arm.

“Trust me. I think he’d say you don’t owe him a damn thing,” he says.

You utter a laugh, though you try to keep it quiet. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

You’re about to thank him for real when a low, gravel-filled growl echoes through the kitchen. You and Sam raise your heads to the doorway, where Dean stands in a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair is mussed in sleep, but his face is firm with a tired frown. His gaze is homed in on Sam’s hand resting on your arm.

Sam slowly takes his hand back, quirking a brow at his brother.

“Alpha?” you carefully ask your mate.

Dean blinks a few times once your voice registers in his mind. He seems to come back to himself, shaking his head a bit. He clears his throat and pads over to you guys on bare feet. He drops a hand across your shoulder and down your back. You’re not sure if it’s meant to be possessive or not, but it almost makes you laugh. You manage to hold it in though.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Sam lets out an incredulous chuckle. You understand why. Was Dean really just going to try and pretend nothing just happened?

“Did you just growl at me?” Sam says.

Dean’s lips purse, but he doesn’t answer right away.

Yeah, he was totally going to try and pretend nothing just happened. You bite your lip against a smile.

“Sorry,” Dean says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Uh…so what’s up? You guys having some sort of insomnia party out here?”

Sam snorts. “No. I’m heading to bed actually. Good night, guys.”

“Good night, Sam,” you say. The two of you share an amused look before he leaves. It’s quick, but it’s enough to make Dean roll his eyes as he fights his embarrassment.

You begin to stand up from the table, reaching for your crutch. Dean helps you instead and settles both hands on your waist. You slip your hands up his forearms and curl them around his biceps.

“We were just talking,” you say knowingly. Then, a teasing smile plays on your lips. “About you actually.”

Dean raises a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “All good things. So you can relax.”

His green eyes are a shade or two darker, his inner alpha having risen to the surface. Half-asleep as he’d been when he walked into the kitchen, his instincts were more dominant than his brain in that moment, especially at seeing you and his brother looking a little too chummy.

Dean wraps his arms around your waist and gathers you to his chest.

You can’t help purring in response. He grins, his eyes half-lidded as his gaze roams over you.

“What if I don’t wanna relax?” he says. The depths in his voice make you shiver, and even smile, but you give him a warning look.

“You’re shameless, you know that? We’re in your brother’s house.”

“Aw, he won’t mind.”

You scoff in disbelief. Dean tilts his head with half a smile. He knew you wouldn’t buy that one.

“Eh, it’s all right. He knows how I am,” he says, right before he bows his head for a nipping kiss along your neck. A breathless squeal escapes you, even though you try to contain it. You swat his shoulder.

“Alpha,” you warn. Once again, you try to temper your smile. Dean is only encouraged. His lips and warm breath tease along the edge of your mating gland on purpose, buckling your knees a little. A short whine escapes your lips, and a tremble of arousal pools slick between your legs. You don’t want to let him win on this one, but damn him, he’s playing dirty.

You grab his head, tangling your fingers in his hair, and pull him to your lips for a proper kiss. There he licks into your mouth and pulls a soft moan from deep inside you.

“Okay,” you give up. “But we have to be—”

Dean hooks his arms around your shoulders and under your knees and swiftly carries you up, forgetting your crutches behind. You have to smother your giggles with both hands while he takes you back to bed.

AN: lol Dean's insatiable, but we all knew that. 😆 I know it's been a while, but I hope you guys enjoy this little epilogue for ATW! In my head, she and Dean go on to have little adventures together after he meets her family. Like little dates and road trips to all the places Dean has enjoyed the most on his cross-country travels.

(And then maybe a couple of kids once they get settled in their own little cabin.) 🧡

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[doctorbitchcrxft]

Wishful Thinking | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader ( ...? )

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL COERCION, canon violence, canon gore, depression, anxiety, y/n's in rough shape okay

Word Count: 6384

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You couldn’t piece together why Dean had run out on you. In truth, that fact couldn’t occupy too much of your thoughts given everything else that was going on.

The next morning, you began packing when you received a text from Dean telling you to do so. He clearly didn’t intend upon finishing your conversation from the previous night any time soon.

“I’m surprised at you, (Y/N),” a familiar voice said from behind you. 

“Please don’t lecture me right now,” you said evenly; you were in no mood for Uriel’s scolding.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” he asked.

You slammed your toiletry bag in your duffel and turned to face him. “Stop who? Samhain?”

“Sam.”

Your stomach dropped. “I wasn’t gonna kill him for using his powers in that dire of a situation.” 

“You disobeyed a direct order, (Y/N),” the angel chastised.

You picked up the alarm clock off the nightstand and threw it at him. “Fuck you!” 

Uriel was on you in a second, a hand around your throat. You clawed at his hands, choking on air as he spoke to you. “The only reason you and Sam Winchester aren’t dead is because you have both proven useful. The second he steps out of line and becomes more trouble than he’s worth, he dies. And if you aren’t the one to kill him, you’ll die, too.”

Just as your vision started spotting, the pressure around your throat and Uriel disappeared. 

****

You and Dean were downing shots like there was no tomorrow. There was clearly a lot you both wanted to forget about, and Sam noticed how much distance was between the barstools the two of you were sitting on. 

Uriel had apparently delivered a similar message to Sam after he visited you, but also put in a little detail to warn Dean to stop stepping out of line. He told Sam to ask Dean if he remembered what Hell was like.

Sam was almost completely sober, and he kept pressing Dean about the issue. “It just doesn't make any sense, Dean. I mean, why would Uriel tell me you remembered Hell if you didn't?”

“Maybe because he's a dick,” Dean grunted, taking another shot. “Might have something to do with it.”

The younger man shrugged. “Maybe, but he's still an angel.”

“Yeah, an angel who was ready to level an entire town. Look, I don't know what—”

The waiter coming back over cut Dean off. “Radical. What else can I get you guys?”

“Uh, I think we're good,” Sam replied.

“You want to try a couple of fryer bombs? Or a chipotle chili changa?” the teenager tried.

“Nope. We’re still good,” you said, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Okay, awesome.” The waiter bounced away.

Dean returned his attention to his brother. “Sam, honestly, I have no idea why Uriel told you what he did, okay?”

Sam huffed. “Right.”

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Then look me in the eye and tell me you don't remember a thing from your time down under.”

You took another shot, knowing it was better to stay out of this conversation.

“I don't remember a thing from my time down under.” When Sam said nothing, Dean continued, “I don't remember, Sam!”

“Look, Dean, I just want to help.”

“You know everything I do. Okay? That's all there is.”

The waiter bounded back over, annoyingly asking about dessert, and you convinced him to just bring you the check. 

“Alright, so, where do we go from here?” Dean sighed. taking a sip of the beer in front of him. 

“I'm not sure. Uh, looks like it's been pretty quiet lately. No signs of demon activity; no omens or portents I can see.”

“That's good news, for once.”

“Yeah, just the typical smattering of crank UFO sightings and one possible vengeful spirit. Here, check this out. Uh, up in Concrete, Washington, eyewitness reports of a ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility.”

Dean choked on his beer while Sam continued reading. 

“The victim claims that the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs. I can see you're very interested.”

“Women, showers,” Dean hummed. “We got to save these people.”

It felt so odd for them to just be talking about mundane hunts while the three of you were staring down the barrel of the possible end of the world.

What bothered you even more was Dean’s joking about looking at other women. He hadn’t even looked at a woman since the two of you got together. Now that your relationship was up in the air, it seemed he wanted to go back to his old ways. It hurt your heart, but you knew you had no true claim to him anymore. You weren’t even sure if your relationship was salvageable. 

Although, everything you’d done had been for him. You stressed that multiple times. The fact that he was seemingly ready to just jump back into the dating pool when you hadn’t even finished your conversation from Halloween night made your blood boil. He was on incredibly thin ice, and you took a long chug of your beer to keep your anger from spilling out.

****

The next day, Dean dropped Sam off to talk to the girl that’d been pushed down the stairs.

You and Dean were supposed to be going to check the showers at the fitness center for EMF. However, you just couldn’t help yourself. “Thought you’d wanna go check out the shower girl.”

His head jerked toward you. “What?”

“That was your whole reason for taking this case, right? Saving naked women?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, (Y/N). I was kidding.”

“Okay, but I really don’t think you should be joking like that given the state our relationship’s in,” you responded.

“And what state is that?” he asked.

You shrugged mockingly. “I don’t know. You ran out before we could even talk about it.” 

“Are you seriously gonna lecture me about running out? Seriously,” he spat.

“Pull the fucking car over, Dean,” you ordered.

“Why, so you can get out and run away again?” 

“No, so we can talk about this without you killing us both. Pull over now,” you said through gritted teeth.

He did as you asked, turning to face you. “Okay, what?”

“Seriously?” you scoffed.

“What? I’m just asking, what do you wanna talk about?”

“How do you not fucking know?” you fired back.

He threw his hands up. “I don’t know, because there’s a million different things potentially on the table.”

“Okay, then, let’s start with why’d you run out on me?” you asked.

“Fantastic place to start, (Y/N), especially considering you told me you wouldn’t make me talk about it,” Dean remarked sarcastically.

“I told you I wouldn’t make you talk about Hell. I told you why I ran out on you. You owe me the same,” you said.

“Maybe I just needed time to process everything, goddamn!”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that to begin with? How can I trust that’s true?”

“Why are we even having this conversation if you can’t believe anything I say?!” 

“Because you keep expecting me to be fully upfront with you while you get to have as many secrets as you want! You lied straight to Sam’s face and to me before last night about Hell! I think the only reason you’re pissed is ‘cause you can’t hide from me anymore!” you shouted.

That seemed to quiet him down, and he thought for a minute.

“And another thing, everything I’ve fucking done for months has been for you. And I know you’re hurt, and I am so sorry,” you told him earnestly, “but you look at me like you don’t even know who I am anymore! I’ve changed, I know that. But so have you. And I don’t look at you any differently despite knowing every awful thing you had to do. Why can’t you give me that same grace? Especially when I did all of it to save you?” You took a breath, trying to swallow the lump quickly forming in your throat. “I’m sorry I lied to you. And I’ll do everything I can to get your trust back because no matter how much you piss me off, I still love you. But please don’t hold what I did for Uriel against me, okay?”

“I don’t,” he responded quietly. “But can you at least understand that I miss who we were before I went to Hell?”

“Absolutely,” you told him. “I miss those versions of us every day.”

“And I’m sorry I ran out on you. (Y/N), I never wanted you to see me like that. I ran out on you because I was angry. The one person I was terrified of finding out who I really am and what I did down there knows, and it fuckin’ hurt.” His voice was gravelly as he spoke, clearly trying to hide the lump forming in his throat.

“It doesn’t change how I see you, though,” you insisted.

“But maybe it should!” Dean said, the tears forming in his eyes. “Maybe you should look at me like I’m a monster because I am.”

“Do you really believe that’s true?” you asked softly.

“How could I not?” Tears slid down his cheeks steadily. “I did… horrible fucking things down there to people who maybe didn’t even deserve it. I can never forgive myself for that.” 

“But you have to try,” you told him, scooting across the bench seat to cradle his face in your hands. You swiped the tears away with your thumbs and stroked his cheeks. “Anyone would break under that kind of pressure. You lasted even longer than I would have. And I’m sorry that happened to you. It wasn’t your fault, Dean.”

Dean tried earnestly to stifle his tears. His back was straight as a board as you slowly wound your arms around his neck and pulled him down to rest his face in your neck. Finally, finally, he relaxed himself into you and allowed himself to cry.

****

Your relationship with Dean was nowhere near repaired. As much as it stung, there was a lot of broken trust within both him and you. At least now, everything was out in the open. Well, mostly everything. 

Following your talk, the two of you went to the fitness center to search for any sign of the paranormal. Sam called to tell you he’d meet you there. 

“Look, Dean,” you told him. There was a man on the front of the newspaper he was reading who’d won one-hundred sixty-eight million in the lottery. “How come we never get that lucky?” 

He chuckled, looking over the headline. 

Sam approached the bench you sat on with Dean outside the fitness center after you flagged him down. “Well, you pick up anything?” he asked. 

“No EMF in the shower or anywhere else. This house is clean,” Dean sighed.

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. I'm not surprised. I kind of got the feeling back there that crazy pushed Mrs. Armstrong down the stairs.”

You and Dean stood to walk to the car with Sam, and a child blew past you with two others hot on his tail— they were apparently not his friends.

“Run, Forrest, run!” Dean called after him.

Sam sighed. “I don't think anything's going on around here.”

You walked past a pier where a man stood shouting at a police officer about something that had grabbed him and thrown him into a tree.

“Something's going on,” Dean said, subtly nodding his head toward the other men, halting you and Sam. 

When the man started mentioning Bigfoot, Sam decided to step in. “Excuse us. FBI.”

The police officer scoffed. “What?”

“Yes, sir. We're here about the... that.”

“About Bigfoot?” The officer seemed skeptical; understandably so.

“That's right,” Sam nodded, turning his attention to the witness. “Sir, can you tell me exactly where this happened?”

The man’s directions led you to the center of the woods, and every little sound made you jump. Living in a cabin for four months had only worsened your fear of the woods. 

“What the hell's going on in this town?” Dean asked as the three of you walked along. “First there's a ghost that's not real, and now a Bigfoot sighting?”

“Well, every hunter worth his salt knows Bigfoot's a hoax,” Sam noted.

“Maybe LSD in the water supply?” you shrugged, turning around as you talked and mindlessly stepping backward. Dean grabbed your arm, pulling you to his chest. “Dude, what the hell?” you questioned. 

Dean nodded to what you were about to step on, spinning you around to look at it. “Okay, what the hell?”

You looked down at the very large footprint Dean kept you from tripping into. 

“That, uh... is a big foot,” Sam breathed out.

You followed the ginormous tracks to the back of a liquor store that had been broken into.

“So, what? Bigfoot breaks into a liquor store, jonesing for some hooch?” He noted the spots that were empty on the shelves. “Amaretto and Irish cream. He's a girl-drink drunk.” You elbowed Dean. “Amaretto and pineapple’s good.” You smiled while Dean shoved shooters into his jacket pocket. 

Then, a few discarded magazines leading to a trail out the front door caught your eye. “Dude. He took the whole porno rack.” “Well, I'll say it again,” Dean added. “What the hell is going on in this town?”

Baffled, the three of you made your way to a bench outside the store. “I got nothing.” Dean threw his hands up. 

“It's got to be a joke, right? Some big-ass motherfucker in a gorilla suit?” Sam tried. 

“Or it's a Bigfoot. Y’know, and he's some kind of a alcoholo-porno addict. Kind of like a deep-woods Duchovny.”

A girl on a bike passed you, and a magazine fell out of her bag. You exchanged a glance with Sam, and Dean picked it up. 

“A little young for Busty Asian Beauties,” Dean noted, brows furrowed. 

You followed her to where she dropped a box full of alcohol and porn off with an apologetic note attached at the back of the liquor store. Then, the three of you followed the girl home. 

“What's this, like a ‘Harry and the Hendersons’ deal?”

Sam chuckled at his brother, knocking on the front door of the little girl’s house. 

“Hello?” she asked, opening it.

“Hi! Are— Are your parents home?” you asked her, bending to her level. 

“Nope,” she shook her head. 

“No, fabulous,” you murmured. “Awesome.”

Dean was up next. “Um... Have you seen a really, really furry…”

She immediately looked scared. “Is he in trouble?”

Although a little gobsmacked, Sam chuckled, “No, no, no. Not at all. We just— We wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“He's my teddy bear. I think he's sick,” the little girl sniffled. 

“Wow. Uh... Amazing. 'Cause you know what?” Dean said, incredibly chipper. “We... are, uh... teddy bear doctors.”

The child’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can you please take a look at him?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded. 

She took your hand and led you inside. 

“What’s your name, angel?’ you asked her.

“Audrey.”

“Audrey, nice to meet you,” you replied. “I’m (Y/N).”

“He's in my bedroom,” the little girl said. “He's pretty grumpy.” She knocked on the door of her room hesitantly. “Teddy? There's some nice doctors here to see you.” She opened it to reveal something you’d never seen before. 

A big, living, drunk teddy bear was sitting on her bed watching television. “Close the fuckin’ door!” he shouted in a gruff voice. 

Audrey shut it, whispering, “See what I mean?”

Your eyes were wide as saucers, and you turned back to the boys to see a similar reaction in them. 

She explained to you that she’d wished in a well for the teddy to come alive over the top of the teddy bear moaning about how awful life was. 

“Audrey, give us a second, okay?” Sam said. He turned to you and Dean, hushing his voice while Audrey tried to comfort her teddy bear. “Okay. Are we... Should we... Uh, are we gonna kill this teddy bear?”

“I mean, how?” you questioned. 

Dean chimed in, “Do we shoot it? Burn it?

Sam shrugged. “I don't know. Both?”

“How do we even know that's gonna work? I don't want some giant, flaming, pissed-off teddy on our hands,” Dean scoffed. 

“Yeah. Besides, I get the feeling that the bear isn't really the, you know, core problem here.”

You turned to the little girl. “Audrey, where are your parents?”

“My mom wished they were in Bali, so I think they're in Bali,” she replied. 

“Oh, okay,” you said. “I’m really sorry to tell you this, but your bear is sick. He’s got—”

“Lollipop disease!” Dean cut you off. 

“Lollipop disease,” Sam nodded. 

Dean shrugged, “It's not uncommon for a bear his size. But, see, it's— it’s really contagious.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “so, is there someone, maybe a grown-up, that you can stay with while we treat him?”

Audrey considered for a moment. “Mrs. Hurley lives down the street.”

“Good, yeah, good. Uh, we'd like you to stay there for a few days, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean found out where the wishing well was from Audrey, and the three of you set off in that direction. Just as you arrived, a little boy threw a coin into the fountain. You watched him leave, skipping, and grab his mother’s hand. 

“Think it works?” Dean asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You turned to face him. “Got a better explanation for teddy back there?”

“Well, there's one way to find out.” 

Dean took a coin out of his wallet, stuffing him back in his pants as Sam asked, “What are you gonna wish for?”

“Shh!” Dean scolded. “Not supposed to tell.”

Within five seconds of him chucking the sandwich in, a man in a red shirt came up holding a giant sandwich. “Somebody order a footlong Italian with jalapeño?”

Dean smirked, “That'd be me,” and you rolled your eyes. He excitedly led you and Sam over to a table outside the Chinese restaurant Audrey had described to you and began to scarf down his sandwich. “I think it works, guys,” he said through a mouthful of food. “That was pretty specific.”

“The teddy bear, the sandwich—” Sam sighed. 

You pulled the newspaper Dean had been reading earlier out of one of the pockets inside his jacket. “I’m guessing this, too.”

Sam discreetly nodded to a couple at the table next to yours. “I'm guessing that.”

You snickered, as did Sam. 

Dean tried to sneak a glance at the couple. “Well, that definitely goes on the list. What are we supposed to do, huh? Stop people's wishes from coming true? I mean, it sounds like kind of a douche-y thing to do.”

“Yeah, maybe. But come on, man. When has something like this ever come without a price tag?”

“And usually a deadly one,” you argued. 

“I don't know. It's a damn good sandwich.” You and Sam gave Dean a look. 

“Alright, fine.” He rolled his eyes. “We'll put a hold on the wishing till we figure out what's going on.”

A waiter came up to your table. “Uh, gentlemen, gentlemen. I'm sorry. We don't allow people to eat outside food here.”

“Well, how can you expect him to eat the food inside here?” you scoffed. “Health department. You’ve got a pretty serious rat infestation. We're gonna have to shut this place down under emergency hazard code 56C.”

Sam tried to hide his smirk, but Dean’s was completely overt as he stared at you. 

****

Under the guise of needing to investigate the fountain, you made the waiter have his manager drain it. 

Dean swept away coins while you felt around the outside of it for a compartment hiding a hex bag. 

“Typical fountain; plaster Buddha,” the older brother announced. “Nothing I can see.”

“Yes, nothing. We keep a clean place here,” the manager insisted.

Sam began to escort him away. “Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave during the preliminary investigation, okay? Thank you.” Dean tossed one of the coins he swept at you. “Oh, come on. Aren't you a little bit tempted?” You shook your head. “Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“Wouldn’t be real,” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t trust it.”

“I don't know,” he replied, “that bear seemed pretty real.”

Dean tried further. “Come on, if you could wish yourself back, you know, before it all started… Think about it. You could’ve avoided all this angel business. Maybe gotten out.”

You stood, putting your hands on your hips. “Of what? Hunting?”

He nodded. 

You scoffed. “That’s not what I would’ve wished for.”

“Alright, well, what, then?” he pushed. 

Without even thinking, you said, “That you’d never gone to Hell.” Dean held your gaze intensely, that unreadable look you’d become accustomed to on his face. 

Sam came back over, causing Dean to shake himself out of his trance. “What is that?” the older brother asked, looking down at something. 

You walked over to the side of the fountain he was on, bending over the side and brushing the coin with the tips of your fingers. “Some kind of old coin. I don't recognize the markings.”

Dean tried to pick it up, failing miserably. “Damn.”

“Lift with your legs,” Sam deadpanned, and you burst out laughing. 

“Is that motherfucker welded on there?” Dean grunted, standing back up. “Huh.”

You tried again with a crowbar, but it snapped in half. The hammer you used broke, too. 

Sam panted, “Coin’s magical.”

“Ya think?” you scoffed. 

****

Sam sent you back to the motel to try and figure out where that coin came from. Dean hadn’t stopped puking since you got back, so you were the one doing the research. 

“How’s it going in there?” you asked through the door. 

Your answer was another heaving sound followed by him coughing and groaning. 

Just then, Sam opened the door to hear Dean yakking again. “Is he…?”

You nodded. 

“The wishes turn bad, Sam. The wishes turn very bad,” Dean called from the bathroom, voice strained. 

“The sandwich, huh?”

“The coin’s Babylonian,” you explained. “It's cursed. I found some fragments of a legend.” You showed him your laptop that was open to an article with grotesque drawings lining its sides. “The serpent is Tiamat; the Babylonian god of primordial chaos. Their priests were crazy freaky into black magic.”

“They made the coin?” Sam asked, eyes scanning the screen. 

You nodded. “Whoever tosses a coin in the wishing well, makes a wish, it turns on the well. Then it starts granting wishes to all comers.”

“But the wishes get twisted. You ask for a talking teddy—”

“You get a bipolar nut job.” At the sound of Dean hacking again, you pointed toward the door. “And he gets E. coli. You stood from your chair, crossing the room to get Dean a fresh set of clothes. As you rifled through his bag, you continued, “This thing has turned more than one town to shit over the centuries. It's even wiped a few off the map. I mean, one person gets their wish, it's trouble, but everybody gets their wish…”

“It’s chaos,” Sam finished for you. 

You put Dean’s clothes on the bathroom counter, recoiling at the smell. “Take a shower before you come out of there, okay? Don’t want you stinkin’ up the whole car.” You turned back to the room, shutting the door behind you. 

“Any way to stop it?” Sam asked. 

“We gotta find the first wisher. Whoever dropped the thing in and made the first wish; they’re the only one who can pull it back out and reverse the wishes. And things are goin’ downhill fast.”

****

Later that night, you played Solitaire on the floor of the room while Dean slept. Sam was awake, too, on his laptop. He invited you to stay for a bit while he finished researching for the night.

Then, Dean started to stir. You could only imagine what he was dreaming about. 

“No,” he said, softly at first. “No!” 

You sprang to your feet, shaking him gently. He grabbed your wrist, twisted it behind your back, and pinned you down on his bed. 

“Dean, stop!” Sam shouted, leaping up to help. 

It was then Dean realized what happened and let you go. Sam backed off, and you hesitantly rolled over. 

“God, (Y/N), I’m so—” he cleared his throat, voice more gravelly when he spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you promised him. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, not doing a very good job of hiding the genuine fear on his face. 

You shook your head. “No. I promise, I’m okay.” He nodded, but his mind seemed distant. 

The room fell silent for a moment before Sam spoke up again. “Uriel wasn't lying, was he?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You are. You remember Hell, don't you?” Sam continued. 

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “What do you want from me, huh? What?”

“The truth, Dean. I mean, I'm your brother. I- I just wish you'd talk to me,” Sam argued, sounding slightly defeated. 

“Careful what you wish for,” Dean remarked. 

“Cute.”

“Guys, stop,” you sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. 

“Come on, can we stow the couple’s therapy, huh? We're on a job. I want to work. What do you got? Please?” the older brother urged desperately.

Sam clicked his tongue, returning his attention to his laptop. “We got teddy bear, uh, lottery guy, invisible pervert guy. They all must have wished sometime in the last two weeks. But who wished first, and how are we supposed to know who else wished for what when?”

“Well, it helps when they announce it in the paper. Goes back a month.” Dean tossed the paper at Sam.

He read out the title on the page Dean had turned to. “Wesley Mondale and Ms. Hope Lynn Casey have announced their surprise engagement.”

Dean flicked his eyebrows. “Ah, true love.”

****

“Wes! You didn't tell me that you called the florists for the wedding,” the beautiful woman in front of you cheerily called back to her betrothed who you assumed was within the home. 

You followed her into the living room where a greasy man wearing glasses that in no way suited his face sat on an armchair that clearly needed to be cleaned. 

“You're the best! I'm gonna go get my folders.” The woman, Hope, hugged Wes around the neck tightly and practically flitted out of the room. 

“That’s sexual coercion, y’know,” you said. 

“What?” he asked, startled. “Who are you?”

“Health department,” you shrugged. 

“Yeah. And florists on the side,” Sam chimed in. Dean added, “Plus FBI. And on Thursdays, we're teddy bear doctors.” Wes furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Doesn't matter who we are,” Dean responded. “What matters is what we know.”

You nodded at the box of coins on the wall behind him. “Coin collector?”

Wes stood shakily. “Uh, yeah. My… grandfather gave them to me.”

“You make a wish on one of ‘em by any chance?” you asked. 

Hope bustled back into the room, dropping her stack of papers on the table. “Okay, now. I have a lot of ideas, but, y’know, we don't have all the money in the world. Wes is between jobs right now. Means more time for me! Y’know, I'm thinking a Japanese-y, ikebana kind of thing.”

You nodded. “I can… totally see it.”

“So, Hope, uh, tell us how you two lovebirds met,” Sam prompted. 

You smirked, excited to hear this story. 

“Oh, best day of my life,” she grinned. “It's the funniest thing. We both grew up here, but I never really knew who he was. Not by name anyway. Until one day last month, it was like I just— I just saw him for the first time. He was just... glowing. Oh, just glowing!”

Wes cleared his throat. “Uh, babe, can you— can you get us some coffee?”

Hope nodded like an excited labrador. “Yes!” She kissed him over and over, making Dean smirk and look down at the floor, hiding his smile behind his hand. 

As soon as Hope was out of the room, you murmured, “Wes, we know. So tell us the truth.”

He averted your eye contact completely, adjusting his glasses nervously. “My— My grandfather found the coin in North Africa, y’know, World War II. And, uh, he brought it back. He, um, he said it was a real wish-granting coin, but that nobody should ever use it. Um... It was all I had, and when he died, I thought, ‘Well, you know what? Why not give the coin a shot’?”

“Well, time to wish it back,” you ordered. 

He chuckled. “Oh. Ha, no, no, I’m not.”

You stalked toward him slowly, your voice eerily calm. “If you don't stop it, something bad's gonna happen.” Your eyes practically burned as you pinned him to his spot with your intensity.

“How do you know?” he squeaked.

“Just a hunch,” you replied, voice low. 

As you continued to stare Wes down, Dean piped up, “We really wish you'd come with us.”

Wes nodded hesitantly, only relaxing his tense shoulders when you backed off.

Dean gave you a strange look, but you ignored it. Wes gave Hope some lame excuse, and the three of you sped toward the Lucky Chin restaurant. 

“I don't get it. So, my wish came true. Why does that have to be a bad thing?” Wes asked. 

“Because the wishes go south, Wes,” Sam replied. “Your town is going insane.”

Dean eyed Wes in the rearview mirror. “C’mon, you're gonna sit there and tell me that your relationship with Hope is functional; that it's what you wished for?”

“I wished she would love me more than anything,” he replied simply. 

“How’s that going for you?” you asked, voice even, eyes pointed forward. Looking at the man sitting beside you made you physically sick. “That seem healthy? Consensual?”

“Well, it's a hell of a lot better than when she didn't know I was alive.”

“I’d choose your next words very carefully, Wes,” you said calmly. “You imply that what you’re doing is okay one more time, and I will go fucking nuclear.”

Dean discreetly flicked his eyes to yours in the rearview mirror. “You're not supposed to get what you want, man, not like this. Nobody is. That's what the coin does. It takes your heart's desires and it twists it back on you. You hear of the whole, uh, ‘be careful what you wish for’?”

Wes mockingly replied, “ ‘Careful what you wish for.’ You know who says that? Good-looking jerks like you guys. The ones who've got it so easy because you happen to be handsome.”

“Easy?” Sam and Dean scoffed. 

“Yeah. Women— women look at you, right? They notice you.”

You were quite literally biting your tongue to avoid ripping this guy’s head off. 

“Believe us, we do not have it easy,” Sam told him. 

Dean added, “We are miserable. We never get what we want. In fact, we have to fight tooth and nail just to keep whatever it is we got.” You could’ve sworn you felt Dean looking at you, but you couldn’t focus on him at all. 

“But you know what? Maybe that's the whole point, Wes.”

“Yeah, people are people 'cause they're miserable bastards, 'cause they never get what they really want. Take a look at Michael Jackson, hmm? Or Hasselhoff.”

“You know what? Hope loves me now— completely. And it's awesome,” Wes chuckled. “Besides, look around. Where's all this, uh, insanity you guys were talking about?”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You quite literally dove across the back seat, raising a fist at Wes and hauling him up by the shirt collar. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” Dean shouted, while Sam begged you to stop. 

Wes’s lip trembled pathetically, and your fist connected with his face in a sickening crack. 

“You son of a bitch!” you shouted. You reared back again, only stopping when the sight of a child holding a truck over his head with three other kids inside caught your eye. 

Dean screeched to a halt near the truck, promptly pulling you off Wes and out of the Impala. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?!”

“He’s holding a girl hostage, Dean!” you argued. “Using magic to force her into sex? I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘im!” 

“Relax!” he urged you. “We’re gonna fix this. But we can’t fix this if you kill this guy, alright?” 

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced your chest. Dean noticed the immediate change in your demeanor, eyes filling with concern. “Whoa, wait, what’s going on?” he asked. 

Your knees buckled, and he caught you easily. He sank to the ground with you, cradling you as you choked on what felt like your own blood. 

“No, no, no, (Y/N)?!” Dean rushed out, cupping your face. “Talk to me, sweetheart, you can’t leave me. Not like this. (Y/N)?!”

You felt blood dribble out of your mouth and down the side of your face, feeling all of your strength leave your body. And then, the world went black. 

****

You blinked repeatedly, squinting up at the bright sun. Then, you threw your arm over your eyes to shield yourself from the light. A small smile tugged at your lips when you realized the ground under you resembled the leathery seat of the Impala. Dean must’ve put you in here when you got knocked out.

Wait… were you knocked out? Or had you been dead?

You sat up, taking in your surroundings. You watched out the front window as Dean mocked cowering away from an eleven-year-old, and three other kids behind him looked horrified before they turned tail and ran away. 

You got out of the car, cracking your neck to get rid of the uncomfortable tightness in it. When Dean saw you, he immediately took his attention away from the kid and turned it to you. He practically sprinted over to you and scooped you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest. His breath tickled your neck as he breathed you in, and you wrapped your arms around his. Although a little dazed, you welcomed the comfort of his embrace. 

“What happened?” you asked as he put you back down. Dean then proceeded to do what he’d done many times before when you’d been hurt. He tucked your hair behind your ear with one hand and cupped your chin with the other while he scanned your face for injuries. 

“Dee, I’m okay, I promise.” You gently grabbed his wrist, stroking it with your thumb. 

“You— You were gone,” he said. “I didn’t— I—”

It was your turn to cup his chin, forcing him to look at you. A tear slipped down his cheek, wetting the palm of your hand. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m fine.”

Then, Sam came over to you. “(Y/N)!” He bent down to hug you, and you happily returned the gesture. “How you feeling?”

“Uh, fine, I think. What the hell happened?” you asked. 

“Hope,” Sam explained. “She heard what you said— and did— to Wes, and she was not happy.”

“And I’m guessing she doesn’t even know who he is now— since I’m, y’know, upright,” you jested. “All the wishes are gone?”

Sam turned to see Audrey walking with her sunburnt parents and a normal-sized teddy bear down the street. “I guess,” he chuckled. 

“Then, so are we,” you said, heading back toward the car. 

“Hang on a second,” Dean said. 

You and Sam turned to face him.

“You were right.” 

Sam looked confused. “About what?”

“I shouldn't have lied to you,” Dean admitted. “I do remember everything that happened to me in the Pit. Everything.”

Sam looked at him expectantly. “So tell me about it,” he prompted.

“No,” the older brother stated plainly. 

Sam snorted. “Uh…”

“I won't lie anymore. But I'm not gonna talk about it.”

“Dean, look, you can't just shoulder this thing alone,” Sam told his brother. “You got to let me help.”

Before Dean could snap, you gently added, “It’s different than a bad day, Sam.”

Sam became slightly hostile toward you. “I know that.”

“Sam,” you sighed. “You don’t. I’m not tryin’ to hurt you here, but your four months was very different than my four months and Dean’s forty—” you quickly tried to cover up your mistake, “four months. There is no forgetting. There’s no making it better. There’s no talking it out. Because experiencing what he did? In real time? Unless you were there with him, you’d never understand it.”

Sam gave you a bizarre look; almost like he wasn’t processing what you were saying. However, he dropped it and got into the backseat of the Impala. 

****

Later that night as Sam slept soundly in the backseat, you and Dean sat beside each other in silence for a while. It felt strange to be in the front seat again; almost as if you were earning “girlfriend privileges” again.

Dean finally spoke up. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” You turned to face him, but he didn’t take his eyes from the road. “I’m not trying to.”

“But you did.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest and facing away from him. “Dean, I was trying to make that conversation a little easier for you, okay? I’m sorry.”

It was almost as if you’d dumbfounded him because he didn’t speak for quite a few moments after that. “What’s goin’ on with you?” he asked. 

“What do you mean?” you grumbled, still staring out of the window. 

“You’re not… you’re not you,” Dean replied. “You’re— You’re erratic, you’re lashing out; you’re scaring the crap outta me.”

Your heart nearly cracked in your chest, tears springing to your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Sweetheart, you’re supposed to be the stable one here, remember?”

As you choked down your tears, you nodded furiously. You could still feel Dean’s occasional glance to you for the next several miles, almost as if he was hoping you’d crack. Although, when your muffled cries subsided, you just faded off to sleep.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 10.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 2k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, infidelity, flirting, kissing/making out, there is trouble everywhere quite frankly…. gonna dip once i post bcos i know this is bad but there’s def another future 0.5 chapter that might be worse

⇢ POSTDOC | YR 2.5

"Babe." Iseul whines a bit, making San mimic her pout before tapping her nose.

"Love. How about I take you out this weekend to make up for it? We can go somewhere, just us two."

"Okay, but it'd be better if you could do that and come hang out tonight, too." 

"I'll try."

"San." 

"I'll try." He chuckles. "I should really finish up behavior tonight and that review for the paper we're working on. I'm already behind."

"Who said? You still have time."

"I have to get this done by next week." He gives her a sympathetic smile before placing a kiss on her forehead. 

"Next week."

"I'll try and get it done so I can hang out with you two, k?" He cups her cheeks. She can't help but continue to pout and cross her arms, even when he kisses her on the tip of her nose and on the lips. Part of her continues to have a soft spot for her man, the love of her life. 

Part of her wants to continue being supportive because she loves seeing San excel in his craft, she loves being by his side throughout all his achievements and vice versa. She feels like together, they can conquer the world together— be unstoppable, reach the top.

The other half, maybe more than half at this point, is sad. Empty. She longs for the man she fell in love with, she longs for his company. His time. His effort. 

His kisses, his cuddles. Everything.

Iseul never thought the lines would blur.

"Okay?" San repeats, causing Iseul to return her full attention on him. She gives him a small smile and nod, San's thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Better." He subtly bites his lip before caressing her chin. "C'mere." He leans forward to peck her lips again, and again.

And again.

Before they're both standing near her car, kissing under the late afternoon sun. Iseul tugs on San's shirt, deepening the kiss as she pulls him closer. He softly groans against her lips, Iseul's hand slowly traveling down to his belt. 

"Baby." He pulls back and chuckles. 

"We can be quick." She chases after his lips and presses small, repeated kisses against them before he's gently prying her off and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, baby. I gotta go." She whines again before he's kissing her one last time on the lips and forehead. "You can have me all you want later tonight. And tomorrow. And the weekend."

"Ugh. I hope you know how much I'm sacrificing so you can hurry and finish." He laughs.

"I love you."

"Love you, too." She sighs, watching as San waves before doing a light jog back to the building. She slips into her car and connects a call to the bluetooth just as she pulls out of the parking spot.

"Yo!" Yunho answers the call almost immediately.

"Hey. What can I bring to your place for tonight?"

"Hm. Soju? I think I'm almost out." Yunho hums. "Chips and any other snacks."

"Okay, so everything? What do you even have at home?"

"Me, myself and I." Iseul laughs. 

"Uh. So much for inviting us over when you don't even have anything ready."

"I'll whip something up, don't worry! Why the doubting?"

"Alright, boss. Counting on you then."

"You know what else I need?"

"What, Yunho?" He chuckles.

"You." It’s meant to be a lighthearted joke; nothing more, nothing less. But, it does something to Iseul and Yunho knows it well enough by this point.

"You're so sappy. Quit it." She blushes to herself, biting her bottom lip even though she playfully scolds him.

"Nah. It's kinda fun seeing you all flustered."

"Hate you."

"Sad. I don't." She shakes her head and smiles. "Sliding through soon?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna freshen up and change at the house first after grabbing groceries."

"San is coming?"

"He said he'll try and wrap up quick so he can join."

"Ah, okay." Yunho sighs a bit. It's been awhile since he's been able to hang out with his bestfriend, but he understands how important his work is right now. He tries to be, at least. He knows how it all goes. 

He just wishes San would give himself more time to relax. Enjoy life a little bit, just like he used to.

"I'll see you in a bit then."

"Mhm. I'll text you when I'm on the way."

"How exciting."

"Shut up." She ends the call. Suddenly, those dark, sad feelings she felt earlier are gone. Suddenly, she's happy. She feels a bit giddy. Excited.

Iseul isn't really sure when the line started to blur. 

But somehow, they're here and Yunho isn't sure how they'll go back and undo whatever they've created between each other. He knows this shouldn’t even be a thing. He should feel like some sort of last resort, a rebound— like he's the cushion that keeps Iseul company solely because San isn't around. Yunho knows there shouldn't be much to it.

So, why is there more to it?

It must have been all the kick-its with friends, all the lunches and casual dinners. It must have been the exchanged texts with stupid [but silly] memes or tweets the other would appreciate. It must have been the calls just to check in with each other. It must have been the subtle, lingering looks. 

Accidentally brushing hands.

Teasing and poking fun at each other.

Flirty undertones.

Saying shit to make the other smile or laugh.

San would have just assumed they were being normal around each other. They had always been close anyway, but he says that because he doesn't catch the small acts in between. 

The very small, but clear and intentional acts.

For a minute, Iseul thought it was a phase because Yunho was there like he had always been. But then, the feelings and the thoughts stayed for longer than a phase; piled up over weeks and weeks.

Until she realized what it meant.

So, she tried to distract herself and force herself to understand that it was truly just a phase. When San was around, she'd affectionately hug him. Kiss him. Cuddle him. Pull him to bed and make him cum over and over again to feel satisfied, to feel like she was still wanted by her man.

His moans and the loud calls of her name the only thing granting that satisfaction. Even though, could she say the affection behind it was genuine?

Clear, intentional?

Who's to say?

Especially when she's happily skipping down the aisles in the grocery store, grabbing the soju that both she and Yunho like; the one that San doesn't really like as much but he'll deal and make do. Especially when she's throwing on a form-fitting zip-up and leggings, trying to come off as comfy, but alluring. Especially when she sprays her perfume and dabs on a bit of lip gloss for a lazy kick-it that’s staying behind doors and enclosed walls.

Especially when she walks through the door to greet Yunho with a big hug— one that has him swinging her around before they plop onto the living room floor and get started on the drunk, scary indie movie and short film marathon the three agreed to do as a way of de-stressing.

Especially when Iseul gets the dreaded but expected text from San, and she can't help but welcome back the same feelings of emptiness and disappointment from earlier.

san: running behind. i don't think i'll make it, love. i'm sorry. tell yunho i’m sorry, too.

san: i'll be home tonight - i'll make it up to you. this weekend, too. 😘 i'm all yours.

"He's not coming." Iseul says, taking another huge swig from their third soju bottle of the night, making Yunho nod silently.

"I'm sorry—"

"It's fine, don't be such a debbie downer." She laughs, playfully punching him on the bicep. Yunho catches her hand in his when she attempts to pinch him the second time around, making her pout in return. "Ouch!"

"Says you who was just about to punch me on the bicep, meanie." She giggles when he lets go of her hand. "I'll let it go. At least you're laughing and smiling."

"Yeah." She looks up at him. "You surely do make me laugh and smile."

"Good or bad way?"

"Good. How could that be a bad thing?"

"I don't know, you could just think I'm stupid." She snorts.

"Never."

"Well, good." Yunho smiles. "I like it when you laugh and smile."

"I like it when you make me laugh and smile, Yunho."

"Yeah?" He drunkly rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, elbow on the surface of the table. "What else do you like, Iseul?"

"A lot of things."

"Mhm." He hums in a sing-song tone before leaning closer to tease her a bit. "What are a lot of things? Name a few."

"Yogurt soju, melon bread, being in bed after a long day and letting the sheets engulf me. Reading in a hot bath with candles lit up. To name a few." She leans forward to match him. "I don't think I can say anything else."

"Why not?"

"Because other things could be bad for me."

"In what way specifically?"

"Just cause." Her voice is barely above a whisper, lips only inches away from Yunho's.

"Just cause? How bad could it be?" She subtly shrugs before her eyes are dipping down to his lips, back up to his eyes. 

"Dunno. You tell me." She distractedly says. 

"What if.. maybe.. it isn't a necessarily a bad thing at all?" There's a thick silence in the air, but no one wants to address the tension, the elephant in the room. So, after a few minutes of said silence, Iseul leans forward and just kisses him— somehow thinking it could address the tension or whatever elephant is hiding in the room.

And at first, it shocks Yunho.

He freezes because he knows this shouldn't have happened. It fucking shouldn't have happened and he should’ve put a stop to it ASAP. Because Iseul was San's and vice versa, they made vows and devoted their lives to each other in front of him, and they were good together.

Yunho isn't really sure when the line started to blur. 

But then, he finds himself chasing after her lips to kiss her again, and again— until things can't be stopped and San's texts are going unanswered while Iseul's phone sits on the coffee table and vibrates away.

Her and Yunho are no longer sitting around watching the short film that's on. It eventually plays a random video next because no one is paying attention to what’s happening in the background. Empty soju bottles are spread across the surface of the table, along with open bags of chips and empty bowls. TV serving its purpose as background noise, almost fighting with the loud kisses and subtle moans leaving their lips while Iseul continues to make a place for herself on Yunho’s lap.

Meanwhile, San tucks his phone into his pocket, shrugging off the entire thing after he had sent her a few more follow up texts with all his ideas on how to make up for tonight. And tomorrow. And the weekend. He felt bad, but he was genuinely excited to do things with Iseul. To take her out on dates, travel near and far with her just to be alone. Rekindle the flame. Bring back that love, passion, that had been slowly dying because of his own fault. 

It wasn't entirely uncommon for Iseul to let texts go unanswered, but he was only worried because he knew that initial 'sorry can't make it' text upset her. She was probably trying to distract herself and lean on Yunho. Which, San can't help but think that Yunho does a way better job of being there for her than he actually does as her husband. It kinda aches him to think about it, and he's not sure how to navigate his own feelings when he keeps replaying that bar scene in his head.

For San, there’s no use in figuring this out because he knows they're good friends. They get along well, and he should be glad that they do. There isn’t anything to worry about despite his mixed feelings and confusing thoughts.

But for Iseul and Yunho, there’s no use in figuring out when this all happened, why this all happened— because everything has become perfectly clear and defined. 

The small acts gone unnoticed no longer small and unable to be hidden.

Clear, intentional.

Now, the lines are no longer blurred.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

it's still agatha and her river

mama, I'm sorry I got upset. mama I'm sorry we're both starving tonight. I promise I'll do better tomorrow.

a six year old taking responsibility and apologizing for his mother's shortcomings.

agatha looks down at her precious little boy's pleading face

and she smiles at him, and nicky gives her a big relieved grin.

evanora is not stealing this moment. she did her worst to fuck with agatha's brain chemistry, but in one fundamental thing she failed: agatha is capable of loving her kid. despite all her other shortcomings, she will never blame nicky for her own faults.

she does a cute little dance for him, and this is what they do, isn't it? he's too small to explain his big feelings and she is too scared, and so they sing to each other and hope the love is understood anyway.

see how he touches the brooch? if only she could have loved nicky in vacuum, without any of the emotional baggage. but he is only the last link in a long chain of witches, pain and and tears and blood that made him what he is. agatha cannot escape her identity and legacy no matter how much she tries, and she couldn't protect nicky from it either.

the last time she sees nicky alive he's smiling adoringly at her. this is the boy she can't face in the afterlife, because her own guilt is so strong she's convinced he will hate her.

nicky dies peacefully in his mother's arms. his soul wakes up and sees rio waiting for him.

that some good cinema dear lord

rio waves at nicky. he doesn't know her (when who will return?) but he still trusts her implicity - she's been around him his whole short life, in the woods, in the water, in his lungs.

and - the bit that destroyed us all - rio makes nicky go to agatha one last time. go kiss your mama goodbye.

light and dark, growth and decay, here and beyond.

remember when alice died and the camera turned upside down? it stops halfway here. agatha has been affected so profoundly by nicky's death that she can never let herself go back to the land of the living, but she's also too scared to follow rio to the other side. she's stuck in the middle, consumed by the impossible dream of bringing nicky back, never allowing herself to find peace and companionship again. in love with death, but running away from it.

(people never seem to make crack and humor vids for episode 9, isn't that curious? when it's soooo fun and lighthearted!)

well ain't that just brutal

I have always known

This Road is cruel and wild

I bury my own heart

Here with you, my child

(I think those are lavender flowers? I'm not 100% sure)

coolcoolcoolcoolcool. that's fine. I'm absolutely fine.

BARRIERS UP right away. even if she looks like a mess. especially because she looks like a mess. she's not showing weakness in front of anyone, she's protecting her grief like a jealous goblin, and since she cannot run, she straightens her dress and gets ready to fight. the option to ask for help and comfort doesn't even cross her mind.

her eyes still full of tears / agatha gets another wonderful, awful idea.

we've seen this so many times, haven't we? the real agatha disappears behind the character she plays. the agatha we've seen from the very start, since the moment she walked into wanda's living room, has been a lie. very few people have ever seen a hint of the poor bruised heart she hides inside, and only to rio and (to some extent) nicky she has ever opened up.

how can someone go from total heartbreak to planning murder in the span of two minutes? well, you can if you are agatha harkness and have never learned one healthy coping mechanism in your life. and I'm sure she's already rationalizing it as something like "if I get powerful enough I can bring nicky back." but the truth is, she just wants to get drunk on magic and murder and stop feeling so horrible. she's running away, like usual. she's planning to kill witches in front of the grave of the very kid who begged her not to, and she's using his song to do it. as if that's not gonna haunt her or anything.

(it really gets me how agatha's smiles are so different from kathryn's. agatha never smiles with her eyes, except when she's with nicky.)

agatha's diabolical scam is so stupid if you think about, definitely worthy of the clown she has become. just pretend the Road didn't open and then annoy people into attacking you! better than using a literal child as bait, I guess.

here she absorbs a yellow coven, and yep, it does look like covens are all supposed to be the same color?

the bodies from the agnes of westview opening.

orange coven in the late 1800s. I really like that dress and hat on her

blue coven in the 1920s, and another cunty outfit

I know you guys like the 90s look, but it makes me laugh how hard she was trying for that Craft vibe. and we don't see the beams color here.

and finally, our girls. (I miss you all so muchhhhh)

what do you know! looks like a door has appeared! (sharonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!)

from fuck has my karma caught up with me to well well well, looks like we have another little maximoff on our hands

and speaking of little maximoffs and giant assholes...

go to episode 9 part 5

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

← CHAPTER 4 | ✦

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

← CHAPTER 4 | ✦

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[mattslilies]

Stripper!Reader x Stripper!Matt Headcanons

"you encapsulate the stage." or... the one where i didn't know what to write, so here are some headcanons and glimpses into the stripper!au :) warnings: its a strip club au guys you know the warnings i fear! mostly just suggestive stuff tbh. word count: 496 a/n: i hit a tree today with my car guys wtf is my life. also, i work over 9 hours tomorrow so the likelihood of a fic going up before like 10pm est is low, but i will try!

stripper!reader headcanons...

~ her desk is absolutely covered in makeup products, specifically glittery ones. shimmery highlighter, shining eyeshadow, mascara with some color in it. everything and anything bright you can imagine.

"how do you even have room for all of this?"

she laughs, grabbing another brush.

"you make room for things you love!"

~ walks in the tallest heels you've ever seen, and somehow never, ever, trips. however, is always complaining about ankle pain.

matt walked back into the room, two heating pads with velcro straps in his hands, helping her strap them around her ankles to soothe the ache.

"ugh, thank you. that feels so much better."

"you know, baby, you could always wear shorter heels."

"not a chance."

~ has the best getting ready playlist, and a beautiful singing voice to match. is always bouncing around in her dressing area, music up loud and taking double the time to get ready.

she wrapped up a song, pausing her dancing to put on her foundation, beginning her makeup process, when she heard a voice at the doorway.

"encore, encore!"

she shook her head at matt, who was grinning at her while leaning against the doorway.

"now that will cost you, and you know my rate."

........

stripper!matt headcanons...

~ is everybody's hype man. stands at the side of the stage every time someone is performing, is the loudest cheerer of them all. tips reader after every show.

matt slipped a $100 into your waistband, smiling at you before walking away. you gasped, following him and attempting to return it.

"don't pity tip me!"

he shook his head, smirking.

"oh, it's not a pity tip. consider it a down payment, for when we're home later."

~ may be quiet, but protects reader with his life. will double down against absolutely anyone, even someone a foot taller than him, if they even think about being disrespectful to her.

"matt, you can't fight all my battles for me, baby."

"but he can't just say that! i should've kicked his ass right there and then, and then had security throw him out permanently."

you giggled, the anger in his face almost amusing.

"you're like an attack dog. it's cute."

~ takes reader's pole dance classes sometimes. he claims it's for extra experience, btu secretly, he just admires her and her talent.

"if you take any more of these courses, you're going to be turning yourself into a pretzel on stage. you're already flexible enough!"

he grinned, spinning around on the pole as he listened to you, enjoying the empty room after your class had concluded.

"oh, i'm not here for flexbility. i'm learning your moves to beat you out for top money earner at the club."

you smirked back, shaking your head.

"as if i'd teach my best moves in class. you'll never beat me out. but maybe, if you tip me well enough, i'll demonstrate a few of them at home tonight."

matt has never hopped off a pole faster in his life.

taglist <3

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[whoredyceps]

“If you need bail, don't call me.”

» it's friday night, and you just want to let loose and forget about the feelings you've started to develop for your neighbor. when your friends suggest you all drop by the bar that said neighbor works at, you know you're in for a bizarre night.

» pairing: modern!Din Djarin x reader

» tags: au - modern day, bouncer!Din Djarin, non-descript f!reader, bar setting, alcohol consumption, violence, bar fight, reader gets grabbed/pulled, crushing, slow burn-esque

» author's note: is anyone really surprised i wrote another din fic? this is in the same universe as this fic, but it can be read as a standalone! truth be told, i want more bouncer!din so i'm sharing my hyper-fixation with you all :) a bit longer than my usual stuff and i had SO much fun writing this

previous | next

You stood on the front steps of your building, your girlfriends already on the sidewalk talking about the bar you were visiting. As you closed the door behind you, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without a second thought, you pulled it out of your pocket

➤ Be careful tonight.

A small smile spread across your face as you read the text. You were surprised Din remembered the offhand comment you made last night. As you passed each other in the hallway, you returning from work as he was headed out to start work, the two of you struck up a conversation.

"You workin' late again?" Din asked. His tall, built stature looked good in a black, long-sleeve shirt with a white club logo spread across his chest. That, along with black cargo pants that did all the right things to his hips had you looking right at his face.

Not that you weren't equally as flustered, but it was easier to get lost in those warm, brown eyes of his.

"Unfortunately. If my boss puts anymore on my plate, I'm gonna snap," you huffed with a roll of your eyes. "If I didn't love what I do, I'd leave and never return." You watched Din as he listened intently. He had a habit of watching your expression as you told him about the project you were assigned to take charge of.

"It's all for the right reasons," Din assured you. "Tomorrow's Friday, right? Make some plans and forget about work this weekend." As if this wasn't the beginning of what would be a long weekend for him. Thursday through Saturday was like a three-day-long Monday in his field. Still, he was always one to boost your morale when you needed it.

"You're right. Maybe I'll join the girls tomorrow night. Look, be careful at work, okay? I'm making a big pot of soup for this weekend, so you'll have some waiting on your counter when you get off," you told him.

"What kind? If it's another one of those recipes from your Aunt Carolyn, I'm revoking the spare key," Din warned. You found yourself in his apartment from time to time, whether to check on his cat, Grogu or leave an extra meal on the counter.

"It's a pumpkin soup recipe I found in a cookbook," you gave him a pointed look. "Anyways, go to work. If you need bail, don't call me."

You had all but forgotten the comment, but it was in Din's nature to pick up on those things. He had a knack for remembering details that even you had forgotten. You responded to his text as you made your way down the steps.

➤ I will be. I think we're going downtown. If we get home at the same time again, pretend we didn't see each other.

As you joined your friends on the street, you easily slipped into the semi-circle they had created.

"We were thinking of hitting that new bar across town," Monty suggested as you arrived. The others chimed in that they heard great things and the mention of the special they were having on drinks.

"Let's do it," you agreed. Your phone buzzed and you glanced in your pocket, just barely able to see the response.

➤ And miss my opportunity to talk with you? Not a chance.

You tried to bite back a smile. Fuck, he really did something to your head.

Din had saved your ass a few months ago when your coworker had given you the creeps. He gave a great performance, and the smoking gun came in the form of a passionate kiss in front of the man who no longer looked your way.

You were sure you had recovered from the kiss and could be completely normal about Din Djarin.

Ha. Best laid plans of Mice and Men, right?

Now, you were trying to not feel that flutter in your chest that happened every time you so much as thought about him

"We should hit that place just around the block and pregame so we party as soon as we get to the other club," Stella offered. "We're gonna take a cab anyways, so why not do a couple of lemon drops then call the cab?"

The group all agreed in varying degrees. You muttered a small 'yeah, that sounds good' as your friends already began to move in that direction. Now you had to face Din directly after receiving that text.

You decided to just let it go, and enjoy the moment. As you all turned the corner, your chest felt tighter with each step towards the bar. It was a busy spot that had been known for one too many bar fights when things got too heated inside. While it wasn't your favorite spot to grab a drink at, you got to see Din in moments like these.

Before, tonight would have been just a friend dropping by to see another friend at work. It was one of your favorite things to do when you got the chance. It was so endearing and a pleasant surprise— you know, before you experienced the cataclysmal feeling that was Din Djarin's kiss.

The girls filtered into the bar and you held the door open for them. Each of them took out their licenses for the bouncer you almost didn't want to look at. His chuckle was enough to break your will, the way your head snapped in Din's direction. Your friend made a witty joke that had him shaking his head as he gave a lighthearted laugh.

You watched as he took each ID and examined it as he listened to the group. If you knew Din, he was also listening for any excitement in the bar. He took his job very seriously, which you had learned early on.

When the two of you first began exchanging work stories, he mentioned what it was like to do his job. Every time he came to dinner with a work story, you listened with bated breath. He spared no detail, which you appreciated.

"We don't serve your kind here," Din held his hand out for your ID. "Don't take kindly to you." You smiled and rolled your eyes as you handed it to him. His warm gaze felt searing hot, the smirk on his lips tattooed into your skull. How had one simple kiss put you into such a tailspin?

"What kind is that, Djarin?" You smirked and snatched your ID out of his hand once he gave it back to you. He chuckled again as his arms crossed over his chest.

"Deadly. Now go have fun, and don't make come find you," Din winked. All of the girls thanked him before they headed straight for the bar. You watched them glance over their shoulders, the way they noticed you lingered behind.

"You shmooze all the ladies that come in?" You kept your usual demeanor when you talked to him. At least, you tried. You looked less at his face and more at anything else you could put your eyes on.

"Part of the job," Din shrugged. "What, is it working on you?" While you rolled your eyes again, you knew that deep down, it was.

"In your dreams. We're just pregaming here, then we're taking a cab to that place on 22nd," you explained. Din never took his eyes off of you as you spoke to him. He nodded along as if he had been hooked on every word that came out.

"Sounds thrilling," Din gave a straight-laced look. You gently smacked his arm.

"It will be. Bye, Din." You adjusted your purse over your shoulder. With a smile and a wave of a hand, you began to head back to your friends. Before you got too far, you felt a warm hand on your arm that stopped you in your tracks. Without a word, you turned over your shoulder to look at Din.

"If you need bail, don't call me." The shit-eating grin on his face sent you whirling around and playfully smacking his chest. For a moment, he was just your stupid friend who happened to live across the hall. Not whatever your mind had morphed him into.

"You're a dick! Bye!" You both laughed as you finally left him to keep at his job. Your mind reeled on your way to the bar, which your friends had settled at. Silently, you slipped into the group and ordered a drink.

"Is that the guy you're head over heels for?" Monty asked once you settled next to her. You bit your lower lip and nodded.

"Yeah, that's the one. God, that kiss really did me in. Why did he have to be so chivalrous?" You leaned your arms on the bar, your fingers fiddling with a napkin.

"He's got a thing for you," Quinn chimed in next to you. "I saw the way he looked at you." You bit back a groan; you were sure your friends were trying to kill you.

"Enough of this! Can we discuss it at the place he doesn't work at? You know, in front of his coworkers." You motioned to the woman who stood behind the bar, right in earshot as she made a drink. She seemed to be focused on the cocktail, but you knew how to listen while looking oblivious.

"We're talking about this in the cab. That's the compromise." Monty's look left you little room to argue back. You sighed and muttered that you'd talk about it in the cab before you took a long swig of your drink.

The conversation finally steered to Stella's thesis work, and you were thankful. It was nice to take your mind off of the whole thing, if only for a drink or two. You were also thankful your view of Din was obscured by the patrons that seemed to pour in.

As you listened to Melrose finish her review of the new movie she watched, you noticed a shift in the corner of your eye. You turned and realized it was two men at the end of the bar whose voices began to rise over each other. They were throwing arms around and shifting as the dispute began to grow.

"Oh shit, bar fight! We get to see the boyfriend in action," Stella winked as she leaned on the bar to watch.

You began to retort that he wasn't your boyfriend when you felt a sharp yank as you were almost dragged out of your seat. You yelped in pain and stumbled to your feet. Before you could gather the words to say, you quickly realized you were grabbed by people wrapped in the fight.

"That's enough." You had only heard that voice once, and it sent a shiver down your spine. While you knew things weren't in your favor at the moment, you knew you had Din to show up when you needed him most.

Whoever had grabbed your arm, a patron who egged on whatever argument was at hand, suddenly let you go as he was dragged off the stool next to you. Din held him by the back of his shirt and slammed them forward, his chest thudded as it hit the metal rod on the edge of the bar. You jumped back right in time before the man landed at your feet. He was still conscious, but barely.

You stood frozen against the bar, your eyes on Din as he turned towards the idiots who were in a slapfight. Even the ache in your arm couldn't pull you away from the sight of him shoving them out of the bar. He moved with such intensity, his face set in a hard scowl as his hands threw them both out of the front door.

As soon as the men were sent out, Din right behind them, the patrons quickly tried to return back to their previous activities. You took a moment to reorient yourself before you moved your arm. It strung, but it wasn't anything serious.

"Are you okay? That looked so painful," Monty guided you away from the man who was laid out at your feet. You nodded, your injured arm tucked close to your body.

"I'm okay. I'm just thankful he didn't pop my arm out of the socket. That was terrifying," you muttered the last part under your breath. "What was that guy even thinking? Neither of us were involved in the fight."

"We should just leave. I think we'd be better off at the other club anyways." You felt your stomach lurch at the notion. The bar fight put a sour taste in your mouth, and you worried that if a fight broke out at the other club, you wouldn't have a 6'2 bouncer who felt like your own personal guard dog.

"Yeah, let's get out of here. Next time, no pregaming," Stella suggested before she turned to you. "You okay? You still wanna go out?" She wore a calm expression, a soft smile that made you feel better.

"I won't let some idiot ruin my night. Let's bounce." You gathered yourself and led the girls out of the bar. Din wasn't back at his usual post, and you hadn't noticed him amongst the crowd, which meant he was probably still outside.

You were right. Din stood at the edge of the sidewalk as he talked to one of the men. He had that same intense look, and you weren't sure what he was saying, but it looked harsh from where you stood. Monty went to flag down a cab while the other girls moved to steer clear of the scene.

Din glanced up when he noticed you moving with your friends. He said something and clapped the guy's shoulder as he pushed past him. You stayed in your spot, feet glued to the ground. As he got closer, your heart began to hammer in your chest.

"You okay? I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner. Got warned about barreling through bystanders," Din muttered the last bit to himself as he looked you over. You felt his gaze on you, the way his hand gingerly brushed over the bruise that had begun to form.

"I'm okay. You know, if you keep saving my ass, I'm gonna start getting used to it," you joked. You hoped a little humor would ease some of the tension between his shoulders. It didn't, but you noticed the way they shifted up and down as he huffed out a single chuckle.

"Then that means I'm doing something right. You still gonna go out?" Din let go of you before he crossed his arms over his chest. He was a wall of a human from top to bottom, wide chest and thick legs that demanded space.

You nodded and adjusted your bag on your shoulder. Even as you spoke, the ache in your arm dulled. By tomorrow, you would have a bruise and feel a bit tender. You had faced worse on a Friday night.

"I'm not gonna let some idiot ruin all the fun," you assured him. "I didn't do all of this just to go home early." You motioned to your outfit and hair. Din's chuckle rang in your ears, past the whistle of the windy night and the sound of the city nightlife around you.

"Atta girl," Din gave a slight smile. "Go have fun. Don't let some jerk-off take that away." You didn't try to hide your smile as you looked at him. Fuck, he looked just as hot here as he did when he stepped in to help you.

"Thank you. Have a good night at work. Hopefully, you'll do a lot less of that tonight." You motioned to the man he had spoken to, who was ranting to his friends who had gone out to talk to him. Din gave a slight shrug in response.

"Let's not ask for miracles," he said.

"Hey, our cab is here," Stella called to you. You assured her you were coming and looked back to the bouncer.

"Good night, Din." You hugged yourself as you slowly stepped away from him. As you took a step back, he took a step toward you. You quickly realized Din was walking you to the cab, especially when his hand lightly touched your lower back as you climbed in. He held the car door open and leaned in.

"Call me when you get back to the house, if you remember," Din told you before he looked at your friends. "Be careful. Keep an eye out, okay?" The girls all chimed in with various assurances and thanks. He glanced back down at you, his eyes lingered on you for a moment.

"I'll call you," you replied. Before he closed the door, he held the top of the cab and leaned down to kiss your cheek. It was brief, and you felt the scratch of his beard before you even registered that his lips were against your skin. By the time it clicked, the door had been closed shut and the car started down the road.

"Yeah, he definitely doesn't have feelings for you," Monty said sarcastically.

"He's so in love, it's kind of cute." Melrose grinned as she clasped her hands together. She was the hopeless romantic of the group. Most of the time, you just brushed off her musings but this one sunk into your mind, as did every other comment your friends offered.

The talk of Din and his actions was the hot topic for the rest of the night. You had given up on trying to stop them after you made it to the second bar. Instead, you had another drink and chimed in when it was appropriate.

While they stayed on it for some time, the conversation finally redirected to another subject and you swore you could have cried from relief. Your mind was trying to piece together any bits of logic you could grasp, but every piece of evidence from the girls only made it more confusing.

By whatever luck, everyone agreed that it was time to dance and actually enjoy the night out. You let your mind slip as you joined your friends on the dance floor. Between the music and cocktails, you finally felt the weight lift off your shoulders. For the rest of the night, you let go and do what you had intended to from the start. Have fun with your friends.

As much fun as it was, you had hit your wall once the buzz had finally worn off. You and Quinn were the first to leave, a plan to share a cab because the two of you were on the same street. The rest of the group decided to stay out a bit later, which you wished them the best of luck on. You hailed a cab once you and Quinn made it outside.

"For the record, I think you and Din would be nice together," Quinn said once the two of you had settled into the car. You looked up from your phone and smiled.

"You think so?" You asked. Quinn nodded, though they didn't tear their eyes away from the window as they said it.

"I do. You two have something that I don't think either of you can see." You tried to decipher what they meant, but without their expression to go off of, you were lost.

"I think I understand what you mean," you wondered aloud. "I don't see it, but I can feel it. When I'm around him, it feels like there's a live wire in my chest. Ever since that stupid kiss, it's like I get a hot flash and my legs feel fucking useless."

"Sounds like something you don't want to admit." Quinn glanced at you before they let the cab driver know their apartment was the first building on the next road coming up. Their expression said it all.

You were falling in love. You were fucked.

"I hate it when you're cryptic and correct," you grumbled.

The cab rolled to a stop once at Quinn's building. You exchanged a quick goodbye hug before they headed upstairs. Once they were inside, the cab continued to the other end of the block where you lived. You paid the driver and gathered your things before you headed inside.

As you stepped into the elevator, you called Din as promised. It was rang once before the other line picked up.

"Calling it a night so early? It's barely even 2am." You practically heard his smirk through the receiver.

"What can I say? My party animal days are behind me," you mused. "Now, the exciting part of my night is going home and getting into my pajamas." Din knew well enough that you weren't one to party all night.

"Yeah? Me too." You shared a chuckle at his comment. You tucked your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you unlocked the door to your apartment. It was a welcoming sight after the night you'd had.

"You only have a few more hours to push through," you assured him. "I wanted to thank you for getting that guy off of me. I still don't understand why he grabbed me. It's not like either of us were part of the fight." You heard some shuffling on Din's side, the music growing more distant.

"That happens, unfortunately. Idiots with nothing else to do find a way to center the fights around themselves. They're willing to take others down with them, and you were caught in the crossfire." There was a brief silence before Din spoke again.

"I wish I had gotten there sooner. The fact that you even got hurt at all is bullshit," he sighed. You were able to pick out something in his voice, but it was hard to pinpoint. Most would have taken it as regret, but you knew Din's tone. It was regret, mixed with... anger, maybe?

"It could have been a lot worse," you pointed out. "The guy could've tossed me clear across the bar and I'd have a broken skull." You hoped the absurdity was enough to get a chuckle out of Din, but the gruff noise he made told you he did not find it amusing.

"I'd rather not think about what else could have happened." You put your phone on the speaker as you shuffled around your apartment. As you talked, you went through the motions of your personal closing shift. Everything was locked up, and you headed straight for your bedroom.

"Then lets drop it," you offered. "I'm okay and in one piece. There were no other fights at the club, if it makes you feel any better." You peeled off your outfit and dug around in your drawer for a set of pajamas.

"Good. Your friends had fun? Did you have fun?" Din asked. You smiled, now donned in an oversized shirt and a set of shorts.

"We had a lot of fun. They all gushed over you, you know? You're like their knight in black cargo pants," you mused. "If you're looking to catch someone's eye, just break up a bar fight." You heard a slight chuckle on the other side of the receiver.

"Good to know. Yeah, Bo told me she overheard you and your friends." You felt a pit in your stomach. You knew better than to mention your feelings in public, let alone a foot away from one of Din's friends. How were you going to handle this?

"Yeah? What did she tell you?" You tried to remain calm and collected, but internally, you were on red alert. How long had he been sitting on this information? What information was he even sitting on? Questions swirled around in your head as you crawled under the covers.

"She mentioned something about 'head over heels' and 'chivalrous', but that was it. Why, got something to confess?" You heard his smile through the phone. He had to know more than he was letting on. If he knew you were the one lamenting about your crush on him, you'd lay in traffic.

"Oh, fuck off. Don't you have a job to do or something? Another person to save from a bar brawl?" You tried to deflect from the magnifying glass that was Din's question.

"Alright, alright. I'll conceded," Din sounded amused. "I need to get back to work. Dinner at my place tomorrow?" It felt like a game of cat and mouse, the way you barely slipped out of the grasp of his claws. If he knew, he wasn't letting on and you weren't going to stick your nose in the one place you shouldn't.

"I'll be there. Good night, and don't do anything stupid. Leave that to the patrons." You turned out the lamp on your bedside table, the only light in the room came from the glow of your phone.

"I'll try to remember that. Good night, sweetheart." Din hung up shortly after. You stared at the phone as the call ended and it quickly faded to black. He had never called you that before. Hell, outside of your name and dumbass, he didn't call you much of anything.

Sweetheart?

You collapsed onto the pillow with a sigh and a hammering heart. Yeah, you were done for.

You were in love Din Djarin.

[airenyah]

Episode 6: FadelStyle vs. Beginnings and Endings

In the past one and a half-ish weeks we've discussed at length just how good the last scene at the diner is and how Style drawing tears on Fadel at the rock concert was foreshadowing to Fadel ending the episode crying real tears. What I haven't seen discussed yet, however, is how that ending scene is actually a counterpart to Fadel and Style's conversation after the rock concert. And I think that makes the scene in the diner even more poignant. And it also makes the scene at the rock pub even more painful as well. Because they are basically the same scenes, just flipped. And I desperately need to talk about it or else I'll explode.

Part 1: "Tonight I am very happy"

In this scene Style knows something that Fadel doesn't: This will most likely be their last chance to be happy together like this. Tomorrow Fadel will go on his mission where the police will be waiting and then Fadel will be taken away from him.

But Style already loves Fadel, he is already worried about him and he really does not want to lose him. So he keeps trying to subtly talk Fadel into staying home from the mission and spilling the beans about the mission so he can explicitly ask Fadel not to go. But Fadel keeps his mouth shut. And as happy as Style is together with Fadel this evening, he is also very upset. He doesn't want the night to end, but there's no way around it. For Style this is a goodbye.

And for Fadel? Fadel went from I'll tell her this will be your last job to Ruerat is the last jerk we have to kill. After that, we can live however we want. Even in this episode, right before he goes to the concert with Style, Fadel tells Bison "Once we're done with Ruerat, I'll talk to Mother again", when Bison says it's time for them to quit. Fadel is on the same page as Bison now. Ruerat is their last victim and after that Fadel wants out. For Fadel, this is the last night where he's still stuck in his hitman life, but once he is done with his mission the weight will be off his shoulders and he can finally truly be with Style. For Fadel this is the opposite of a goodbye.

In the words of my mother: For Style, when the night is over life will end. For Fadel, when the night is over life will begin. Style is ending something and Fadel wants to begin something.

And another thing my mom pointed out is how they're standing in front of a pink sky:

And at what time of the day is the sky pink? Either at dawn or at dusk. The beginning of the day or the end of the day. And for Fadel this scene is only the beginning of the day while for Style this scene is the end of the day.

Part 2: "I think I already love you"

In this scene Fadel knows something that Style doesn't: Style has played him, has made him lower his protective walls, has made him fall for him only to turn around and betray him.

Style told Fadel he hoped that Fadel wouldn't get any more scars and yet here Style is, stabbing Fadel right in the heart and jeopardizing his life. Here Style is, bursting Fadel's bubble that he's finally started daring to dream about, a dream of a future where he wasn't lonely, a future where he was happy and himself with someone, Style, by his side. But Style is a danger to him. Style can't stay. As happy as Fadel has been together with Style, he needs to let go of him. For Fadel this is a goodbye.

And for Style? He has just spent a full week worrying sick about Fadel after his mission went wrong and went completely MIA. Style has likely (definitely) spent a week checking the restaurant every single day for any sign of Fadel's return, not giving up hope of seeing him again. And then Fadel is back. Style is overjoyed. The heavy metal concert wasn't their last day together, Fadel is pulling through on his promise to have many more nights like that with each other. The concert may have been the end of the day, but now against all odds a new day has come. For Style this is the opposite of a goodbye.

And so we're left with the exact opposite situation from what we had at the concert: Fadel is ending something and Style wants to begin something.

Conclusion

These two scenes go together, they're flipped parallels of each other.

At the concert, Style is internally saying goodbye to Fadel because he thinks their relationship will be over when Fadel gets arrested at the mission and the police take him away. At the diner, Fadel is internally saying goodbye to Style because he thinks their relationship is over now that he "knows" that none of it was real on Style's part since in reality he was working with said police.

At the concert Fadel is truly happy, because once his mission is over he'll talk to mother and when he's managed to convince her that him and Bison will be out, then Fadel can go and start a new life, a new future with Style. At the diner, Style is overjoyed because he thought he was about to lose Fadel, but Fadel has come back and now Style gets a second chance at a future with Fadel.

At the concert, Fadel is happy and he can tell something is kinda off about Style ("What's wrong? You act like we're not going to see each other again."), but he has absolutely no idea that Style is in the process of bidding him farewell. At the diner, Style is happy and he can tell something is kinda off about Fadel ("You were just calling me out for being affectionate. Now you wanna be romantic?"), but he has absolutely no idea that Fadel is in the process of bidding him farewell.

It's brilliant writing, really. And both scenes were flawlessly performed by both boys.

[girlgenius1111]

you talk of the pain like it's all alright

well i was too into this to not write part 2 right away, so here! the downside is i have not proofread oops.

warnings: nightmare, kind of a panic attack... worries of self harm, but no actual self harm. angst but more fluff :)

The drive to Alexia's apartment was uncomfortably quiet. You could tell that she was trying not to push you, which was not the norm. It made sense though; your actions this evening had really worried her, and she was at a loss for how to help you.

"Does your hand hurt?" She asked, breaking the silence, but keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"Only a little," you replied, lying through your teeth. You'd rejected any meds from the physios, and your hand ached, pain pulsing from various areas of your knuckles, highlighting the multiple fractures.

"I'll give you something for it when we get home," she told you.

"No, really, it's fine." You mumbled. Your hand hurt because of your own actions, because you'd been stupid and impulsive. It should hurt. In the back of your mind, you realized how unhealthy this thinking was, but you pushed that thought away.

"If you're in pain, you should take something. Just because you did something dumb doesn't mean you deserve to be in pain," Alexia told you, very gently. You tried to hide your surprise at how accurate she was, completely taken aback by her perceptiveness.

Instead of responding, you turned to face out the window, watching the city pass by. Alexia sighed when you didn't say anything; you were really getting tired of that sigh. It sounded like it was full of disappointment in you, even if that wasn't the intention.

-----

You received what felt like the millionth sigh from Alexia when you walked into her apartment. She asked if you wanted to talk, obviously trying to be casual, but you shook your head, telling her you were tired.

"You can't avoid this forever, y/n."

"I'm just tired, Ale, I'm not trying to avoid anything." If she wasn't so worried, she would have laughed at the blatant lie.

"Fine. We'll talk tomorrow," she said, and you nodded, not yet sure how you were going to get out of that one. She was clearly frustrated with you, and you hated it. You already felt bad that you'd made her worried enough to make you stay with her, and the guilt you felt for not being honest was quickly replacing your resolve to keep everything to yourself.

Alexia pointed you towards the guest room, before disappearing to get you something to sleep in. You sat on the bed, running your hands over the soft comforter. Carefully, you took of your brace, wincing at the sight of your hand. It was swelling, already bruised. You were so frustrated, so defeated. You took a shaky breath, trying to stave off the tears that were rapidly gathering in your eyes.

"Okay, these might be kind of big on you, but they... should work..." Alexia returned, voice growing quieter as she looked at you. You were staring at the ground, eyes welled with tears, cradling your hand to your chest. Your lower lip was trembling, and you were blinking rapidly, trying to pull yourself back together. She hadn't seen you look so vulnerable in a really long time, and she wasn't sure how much you'd allow her to comfort you.

The Catalan placed the pajamas on the bed, before carefully walking over to where you were seated. You sucked in a big breath, prepared for another speech, but none came. Instead, Alexia was pulling you into her, arms wrapping around your shoulders, pressing your head into her stomach. Her thumbs moved rhythmically in circles against your shirt. Abandoning your resolve momentarily, you wrapped your arms around her, pressing your face into her. You clutched at her shirt desperately with your good hand, and she held you tighter.

She ran a hand through your hair, speaking quietly to you. "Everything is going be okay, pequeña, I promise. We're gonna figure it out, whatever it is."

She felt you nod almost imperceptibly against her, and took the small victory. She pecked the top of your head, before pulling back.

"Sleep now, you must be exhausted. And wake me up if you need me." She paired her words with a reassuring smile, waiting for you to nod again, before leaving the room.

You changed, wiping all traces of your small breakdown off your face, before climbing into the bed. You were exhausted, too exhausted to try to stay awake. You hoped you were tired enough to not have any nightmares, but luck hadn't really been on your side recently.

-----

Sure enough, you'd only been asleep for a few hours when your dreams soured. It was a familiar nightmare, one that you had frequently. It consisted of you missing a goal, a game winning goal. The fans screamed at you, your opponents mocked you. Worst of all, your teammates were angry too, your captains and Jona yelling at you for not doing better, for not being better.

In the other room, Alexia woke from a light sleep to the sound of you whimpering. She was out of bed in a second, almost falling in her haste to get to you. Entering the room, she saw you rolling around, tears leaking from your eyes. You were talking through your cries, but she couldn't understand what you were saying.

Crossing the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, placing her hands on your shoulders and shaking. You sat straight up, gasping for air. Your wild eyes found Alexia, and before you knew it, you were throwing yourself into her arms, letting out loud, unrestrained sobs.

"Alright, you're okay. It was just a dream. Slow your breathing down, you're safe, I've got you." You barely registered Alexia's words, just so grateful that it was a dream, that she wasn't really mad at you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You cried. You weren't really sure what you were apologizing for, but you couldn't seem to stop.

"Shh, y/n, it's okay. You don't need to be sorry," she told you. She was holding you tightly against her, rocking you back and forth; she wasn't sure why, but it felt right, and it seemed to work. You were calming down.

And as the panic faded, embarrassment took it's place. You pulled yourself out of Alexia's arms, a horrified look on your place.

"No, y/n, it's okay, really, don't-" You cut her off, leaping from the bed and all but sprinting into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you. You sat against the wall, burying your face in your hands. You could hear Alexia knocking on the door, her panicked voice calling to you, but none of it registered. You were so distraught, so upset that she'd seen you like that. How could you let this happen?

"Y/n, please, please open the door. You don't need to be embarrassed, I'm not mad or upset. I just need to know that you're okay." Alexia was begging, not hearing any response.

Her mind was racing, thinking a million things at once. Whether she could break down the door, what was in there that you could hurt yourself with. She tried everything she could think of to get you to open the door, from pleading to using her stern captain voice, to soothing tones, back to pleading. It had been minutes, and you still hadn't answered. She could hear your ragged breathing, which was some comfort.

She didn't know what to do, how to fix this. Hands shaking, she grabbed her phone, calling the only other person she knew you trusted.

-----

Mapi hadn't expected today to turn out how it had. Not your red card, not your impulsive actions, your total disregard for yourself. She didn't expect the frantic call from Alexia in the middle of the night; Alexia was almost crying, a sign to Mapi that what was going on was bad. More than anything though, she didn't expect Ingrid to take charge the way she did, throwing shoes at her and rushing her to the car.

Ingrid drove fast, hands clenching the steering wheel. Mapi knew Ingrid was an empathetic person, a kind person, but she hadn't expected the Norwegian to join her in this, with this intensity. As Ingrid led her inside Alexia's apartment, determined, Mapi couldn't help but be so incredibly glad that her girlfriend was so perfect.

-----

Noise had faded for you, and all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears. You needed to breath, you knew that. You also knew you needed to tell Alexia that you were okay, that you weren't going to do anything stupid. You were completely frozen though, all your energy focused on gasping little amounts of oxygen into your body, just enough to keep you conscious.

-----

Alexia was sat against the bathroom door, saying pretty much anything that came into her mind. The sound of you struggling was too painful for her to listen to, and she couldn't allow herself to do nothing. She only felt relief at the sight of Ingrid and Mapi. The three of them, together, could fix this, she was confident.

"What happened?" Mapi asked, flinching at the sound of your desperate breaths through the door. Alexia had been barely comprehensible when she called, and Mapi only really understood that something had happened, and you'd locked yourself in Ale's bathroom. Her and Ingrid took seats against the hallway wall near the door as Alexia responded.

"I think she had a nightmare. I went to wake her up and she was so upset, crying so hard. And I calmed her down but then she was pulling away and running out of the room. The look on her face. God she was so horrified that I'd seen her like that." Alexia's voice cracked as she spoke. "I've been trying to get her to open the door but she either can't hear me or she won't open it."

Mapi clenched her fists, before asking the question they were all thinking. "What's in there?"

Not 6 hours ago, you broken your hand punching a wall. They still weren't sure what your intention was with that, and the thoughts of what you could be doing, a locked door in between you, were terrorizing your friends.

Alexia just shook her head. "I don't know, I can't remember. I thought about breaking down the door, but... I don't want to freak her out any more."

Ingrid looked between her the other girls, the solution clear to her. "Did you try to pick the lock?" She asked. Alexia looked at her blankly.

"I don't know how to do that?" Alexia responded, sounding confused.

"Get me a bobby pin." Ingrid instructed, and Alexia scrambled off to her bedroom, uncharacteristically frantic.

"You... you know how to pick a lock?" Mapi asked, completely surprised. Ingrid seemed like the last person she knew that would have that knowledge. Ingrid was a rule follower.

Ingrid looked at her, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, Maria. Doesn't everyone?" She remarked.

Mapi looked even more confused. "No?" She said, her response sounding like a question rather than an answer to one. Alexia returned then, thrusting about 8 bobby pins into Ingrid's hands. Again, Ingrid almost rolled her eyes, wondering what kind of fun the teens had in Spain that they didn't learn how to pick locks. She dropped all but one of the bobby pins, turning towards the door.

Alexia and Mapi exchanged looks, and in the time that took, Ingrid had the door clicking open. They all looked in, distressed, letting out simultaneous sighs of relief at the sight of you. You weren't okay by any means, hunched into a ball, hands pressed tight over your eyes. You weren't hurt though, and that's really all that they were concerned about.

The girls paused, unsure what to do now. It hadn't seemed like you'd noticed them enter the bathroom, and they weren't sure what they could do to without startling you. Ingrid, full of surprises today, took the lead, moving to sit next to you, careful not to touch you. The other girls sat too, albeit a little farther away.

You were so in your head, so not aware of anything around you. You knew someone was speaking to you, closer than they were before, but that was it.

"Hey, y/n, can you hear me?" Ingrid said, voice hushed. You gave no indication that you could. "I'm gonna put my hand right next to you. If you can hear me, I want you to touch my hand." Her voice was so soothing, it broke through the fog in your mind.

After a minute, you pulled your good hand away from your face, and shakily reached for her hand. Ingrid kept her's open, palm facing up, until you wrapped your hand around, gripping tightly.

"Good, that's really good, elskling. Can you move your other hand? It looks like it's hurting, honey." You realized Ingrid was right, and unclenched your broken hand, pulling it away from your face with a whimper. They could see your face now, cheeks flushed and eyes puffy. You avoided looking at the other girls, keeping your eyes trained on the ground even as you stretched your legs out, bringing your hand to your chest. You were still holding Ingrid's hand though, which she took to be a good sign.

"I'm gonna get you some ice, pequeña, is that okay?" Alexia asked, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. You nodded mechanically, because your hand really did hurt. Alexia stepped out of the bathroom, and Mapi spoke this time.

"Can you look at me, y/n? Please?" You'd never heard Mapi like that, desperation clear in her voice. You gave in, lifting your head to meet her eyes. Briefly, you wondered when the hell Mapi and Ingrid had arrived, but Mapi spoke before you could ask.

"You don't need to be embarrassed. You didn't do anything wrong, we're not mad at you, not even a little bit. We just want to help, cariño, can you let us do that?" There wasn't much reason to resist anymore, nothing really left to hide.

"Okay." You said quietly, voice raspy from crying. Alexia returned in time to hear your answer, and this time she was sighing out of relief. It was a nice change.

She sat beside you, gently taking your mangled hand in her own, and wrapping it carefully in an ice pack. You grimaced, squeezing Ingrid's hand a little tighter. In response, she moved her thumb up and down the back of your hand. Alexia held the ice pack in place, not really sure what to do now.

"When did you guys get here?" You asked finally, looking towards the couple.

"A bit ago. Ale called us, she wasn't sure how to get you to open the door." You nodded, feeling guilty for worrying them.

"How did you get in?" You wondered.

"Ingrid must have a criminal background she'd hiding from us, because she picked the lock in 2 seconds flat," Alexia responded, voice jokingly exasperated. You looked at Ingrid, shocked.

"Who doesn't know how to pick a lock!" Ingrid said again, looking between the three of you.

"Most people, I'd say. It's okay, amor, I think it's hot that you used to break in places." Mapi joked.

Ingrid glared at her, her response dying in her mouth when you pulled your hand from her grasp and shuffled closer to Alexia, leaning into her. The girls looked at each other, never really having seen you seek comfort out like this. Alexia wrapped an arm around you taking in your exhausted expression.

"How about we go to bed? We can talk in the morning, when you're feeling better." She suggested, and you agreed.

"I promise I'll talk to you guys." You said quietly. Your friends smiled at you. You really didn't want Ingrid and Mapi to leave, but you weren't really sure how to ask for that. Luckily Alexia's mind reading powers seemed to have returned full force.

"You guys wanna crash in the extra bedroom?" She asked. The couple nodded, and you looked confused. Where were you supposed to sleep?

Alexia pulled you to your feet, holding part of your weight up as you were unsteady on your legs. "Cmon, I'm not letting you out of my sight." She said, leading you into her room. The couple peeled off into the extra bedroom, wishing you a goodnight. Alexia pulled you towards her bed. You were so passed arguing, you let her guide you onto the bed, scooting under the covers. She climbed in next to you letting you wriggle into her. She wasn't sure if you were being snuggly because you were exhausted, or emotional, but she didn't care.

For the first time in weeks, she felt like she had an idea of what was going on in your head, and if you needed physical comfort, she was more than happy to provide it.

You felt safe, comforted, even if anxiety still fluttered in your chest at the thought of talking to your friends in the morning. You passed out almost instantly, regardless, and Alexia followed soon after.

-----

part 3 probably tomorrow because i'm obsessed with this

[moonlitbeth]

the Death and Rebirth update yapping, y'all! you're welcome to join in the comments 🐦‍⬛

so... with so many players now sprinting through the lore and main story chapters (myself included), i guess it's perfect time to indulge in a little speculation session abt tomorrow’s update.

first of all i'm sooo glad we're getting a full main story update instead of a separate branch. the only thing here is no free 5-star card (and tbh, most of us were waiting for a green one). but that's at least balanced out by the fact that major updates are now released a bit more frequently than once every 6 months. hopefully, this trend continues (given some rumors, next story updates might be dropped within 2 months). lads really feels the most exciting when the main plot is moving forward, no back-to-back banner mayhem match that energy.

action, drama, and that damn entrance it's pretty clear that we're so in for action-packed storylines. that trailer is absolutely big-screen material. the shift toward more dynamic animated scenes is noticeable and very welcome. esp when it comes to Sylus. the boss-man is finally back nearly a year after his debut.

and how can we ignore that entrance? the man never shows up quietly, always so dramatic and effortless (just like in his intro in LAR). i'm hoping what we saw in the pv isn't all we'll get cutscene-wise since there'll be 2 chapters per LI. it's also possible that the devs might've changed their approach to how they deliver the main story content. tho don't let me get too excited, this fandom loves being delusional.

in angst we trust judging by the Death and Rebirth title, we're sure as hell getting our heavy dose of angst (which i've honestly been craving lately). we've had our fluff therapy over the past couple of months, now it's payback time. and knowing infold, it's going to hurt. i also bet everything i have that the whole "memory return" thing will revolve around MC, not Sylus or Zayne. those chapter descriptions basically scream it.

the Timelock Key event as for the alongside event, there's a solid chance we'll get LIs' POV into their past. last night, while rereading LAR for the umpteenth time (don't judge me), i had this thought – what if we get a deeper dive into Sylus' backstory? like the stuff briefly touched on in World Underneath (Mischief/Elysium timelines), his early years on Earth, his path leading to meeting MC, his POV mid-LAR (this man had a breakdown, ok?), or his absence in the N109 Zone earlier. maybe even small pieces from his anecdote? there's so much potential here, and i hope his team keeps delivering that peak writing. i'm just eager for some analysis fuel.

Eye of Aether and more hints damn, those visuals!

this one is just adding more fuel to the fire for the theory that the Eye of Aether is deeply connected to Sylus. maybe we'll finally get some answers... or another batch of cryptic clues. personally, i think this is one of the most intriguing mysteries in both the core lore and Sylus' story. but as usual, we're only getting crumbs.

and then there's another pic. this one clearly references the abandoned chapel from the limited myth. and i love the gothic vibe (i instantly started thinking abt the next myth, but more on that later). plus, perhaps it's just me, but that specific image radiates loneliness – a sense of forced isolation and unwanted solitude, idk. i'm probably overthinking it. and Sylus' silhouette here is definitely not the one referencing his dragon myth. which means we might be getting a current tl perspective with reflections on the past.

foreshadowing? yes, please now onto the part i'm most excited abt.

every major story update is obviously the devs' chance to tie up previous clues and core narrative threads – all those crucial points and chekhov’s guns finally go off. but that's not all, what abt foreshadowing? it's the best time to start teasing future updates, esp when it comes to new limited myths. with Sylus' character development tempo and the timing of his content, i wouldn't be surprised to see hints of what his next myth could look like. i'm still betting on his anecdote tl. a cosmic conqueror with the Robin Hood agenda? sign me up. this kind of limited companion and setup both have insane potential. and going back to that gothic visual from the new event – what if we get a gothic/futuristic Sylus in his myth style-wise? i'm just widely speculating atp, but it sounds so good.

final thoughts to sum this up, i really hope y'all catching up on the story (or in the middle of it), cuz tomorrow's going to hit us hard. also, don't forget to manage your phone/tablet storage and clear space.

and just be ready for whatever is waiting for us there 🐦‍⬛

[easy-there-leftovers]

Doctor

Summary: Spencer's been there when you had been feeling rather inadequate, for lack of a better term. It's about time that you return the favor. (Written with early s2! Spencer in mind)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader| cw: Spencer being unsure (is that a warning? lol), touchy reader, non canon case, vague timeline, reader and Spence being sapiosexual dumbasses, as per usual (weirdos) | word count: 2.3k

Budget cuts suck, especially if that meant doubling up and sharing a room with one of your colleagues. Or worse— your boss.

It's been a few months since your last GSW, and things haven't been much different. Or maybe it only was because you had been so out of the loop for a while that you hadn't noticed if it was. You hadn't changed up your routine nor your demeanor, so perhaps the others were just following your lead and brushing it off as nothing.

You still feel the occasional stares of literally anyone from your workplace, but you've learned to ignore it since dwelling on it never did you any good.

But you suppose something had changed.

Your relationship with your contemporary.

To be more specific, Dr. Reid had become more accustomed to seeking you out. Engaging in conversation with you more than the previous usual. It wasn't extremely unlike him to do so before, but his persistence has surely increased since your conversation at the hospital. Keeping to his intentions of having more dialogue between you two.

The same couldn't be said about the past week or two, however. While it didn't seem like he was completely avoiding you, you've noticed that you've had more opportunities to talk to Elle, JJ, and Morgan more than you have him. As if the overall frequency of his exchanges with everyone had somehow diminished.

You were going to find out why.

"Looks like we're doubling up." Your unit chief had briefed when you made it the shitty motel.

And your plan starts now.

Spencer feels an arm snake around his waist which makes him look up from his notes, and he's not surprised to see that it's yours. If anyone had to be making decisive contact with him, it would've been you.

"What is it?" He whispers carefully since Hotch is still talking. Used to your touch it at this point.

"Would you like to sleep with me, Dr. Reid?" He clears his throat instinctively.

Your indelicate remarks however, most likely never.

Since your little incident, he's discovered that you're less careful with your diction outside of work and it has certainly thrown him off but he knows that's just how you are. You and your forever unreadable expressions and contrasting sentiments.

Before he can answer however, Morgan's voice cuts through.

"I'm not sleeping with Reid." Everyone looks to him, except Garcia who immediately calls dibs on Derek, and he feels your arm slowly pull away.

Aaron looks from you to Spencer with that usual expression of his before exhaling deeply with crossed arms.

"I assume you're rooming with her?"

Seeing that you're no longer facing him, Spencer can only give your mentor a meek nod. Feeling the same wariness one would feel in the presence of someone's father.

The rest then picked their respective roommates and disband. Reminding one another to meet at the entrance tomorrow bright and early.

———————————————

Lately, Reid has become aware of a lot of things. Things that he never had to worry about before, but ever since Morgan had told him how you felt about the team, he had started questioning his place too.

He has never been ashamed of his intelligence. Far from it, actually. It's the one thing that he's ever been confident in and it's lead him to places that, he thinks, bettered him. Like coaching his high school basketball team, graduating with three PhD's, or getting into the BAU.

But he also fears that part of him alienates him from the others. That his intellect might be the very reason that will, or already, keep him from forming lasting and meaningful relationships. Even more troubling, that he might never live up to the expectations that everyone has of him.

Both as a colleague, and as a friend.

It's worse when the only person on the team that might not feel this way about him is you. Which then comes with its own set of problems.

You had been nothing but well-intentioned since the very start, practically shadowing him throughout everything. Being there to reinforce his confidence with your keen insight, your reflective encouragement, and your comforting presence—all things that made him feel seen.

But with the few times that you weren't there, it unnerved him. As if something was missing. Like it became an unshakeable habit to look over his shoulder and he would find you right there. So when you weren't there, it jus didn't seem right.

And he felt bad about it.

By the time that you had finished showering, you see Spencer with his hair still lightly damp from the one before yours. Head resting on his hand with a lone finger covering his mouth as if thinking deeply while sitting on the bedside's edge.

You take the opportunity to sit on the floor adjacent his tucked legs and he blinks out of his trance when he sees you lay your head on them. He doesn't mind, but he still feels a little bad.

And it's not about the shared single bed.

He felt as if he was taking advantage of your kindness. That by allowing himself to indulge in your brand of 'friendship,' he was effectively isolating you from the others. That for whatever reason, he just got lucky that you seemed to prefer him over them when he was arguably the most difficult to be with

That if you ever caught wind of his feelings towards you, it would ruin the current dynamic you had. He wasn't the type to catastrophize, he of all people should know the dangers of entertaining such thoughts, but lately your presence has had quite the influence on him.

Which is why he's been trying to make himself scarce until he found out how to deal with it.

You wait patiently by his legs. Gauging when he would finish his line of thought before asking, plainly and simply,

"How are you feeling, Spencer?"

In this room where it's just you and him, he's called 'Spencer.' No titles, no niceties, just his name. A luxury that no one else from the team has yet to earn from you.

He breathes out slowly when the pressure in his chest finally feels like too much, but he still can't seem to say what's on his mind. Worried that by telling you any of this, it would only add more weight onto your already abundant plate.

You trace your fingers on the skin that you can reach and he laughs a bit when it tickles. That seems to make you smile, and the sight makes his own grow ever so slightly before you continue,

"I'm not a doctor, nor do I have a doctorate like you—,"

"Three doctorates." He corrects and you roll your eyes playfully at that.

"Three doctorates. Fact of the matter is; I'm not a doctor but— I think I might be able to help."

You motion for him to lend you his hand, the one no longer holding his head, and he gives it to you willingly. Still feeling somewhat guilty when just that amount of contact does actually help him.

You know that you shouldn't profile your friends, but there's a reason why you're in the BAU and not anywhere else.

"So what are your symptoms?" You sense that this is a case that must be handled with a bit of humor, so you make that evident in your delivery.

He clears his throat and furrows his eyes, as if actually treating pretending that he was your patient before ultimately shaking his head with a tight-lipped smile.

"Actually, the symptoms aren't that simple." You hum at that, and get up to stand in front of him.

When he sees you get up though, he feels his hand instinctively tighten over yours. Worried that you were closing the conversation because he was being inarticulate, he goes to apologize but he feels yours squeeze him back before he can.

You notice a few stray strands of hair from your new vantage point. You carefully free both of your hands to tuck them behind his ears, and let one rest gently on the side of his face. Holding it in place, and allowing you to see his expression more clearly.

He feels a bit shy at the attention, but he finds himself leaning onto your hand with a confused expression. You breathe out in mirth and that only seems to confuse him even more.

"You better stop looking at me like that before I do something terrible."

He furrows his brows at that. Hand coming up to rest on top of yours. "Like what?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy." You continue to observe him, much to his chagrin. Assessing the situation before sighing out.

His hesitance from earlier told you everything you needed to know.

"Do you want to try telling me again, or would you like a diagnosis now?"

He looks into your eyes and sees that you're serious so he just nods slowly. Not really sure what to expect since there's no way that you could've gotten anything from him.

"My diagnosis says that you have 'intellectual schism syndrome.' Common to manifest in young geniuses like you. Characterized by a dependence on one's intelligence as their source of fulfillment, and yet simultaneously fear it as the root of their social isolation and relational difficulties."

You pause to gauge his expression once more before continuing.

"You may have been born with all the wonderful things that help you with this job, but you need to remember that's not the reason why people care about you. You can ask for help. Your worth as an individual isn't dependent on your perceived use."

You let the words hang in the air a bit before correcting yourself, "I mean, that's only when it comes to personal relationships. This job? Well—maybe we'll think about it before kicking you to the curb."

He lifts his face from your hold, still grasping your hand, before shaking his head. As if still not understanding something but he eventually finds the words the words to express that.

"That—That's not an actual syndrome; it's not recognized nor documented in any psychological or medical literature."

You scoff at that. "Yeah, I sure it hope it's not. I'm not a doctor, remember?"

He searches your face for an answer before breathing out incredulously. "Did you know that you have an incredible knack for saying the most terrible things?"

You smile at that. "Was I wrong?"

He think about the answer to that, before shaking his head 'no.' Because you're partially right, but he'd rather not correct you on what you're missing.

He looks down at your still intertwined hands, god he's been holding onto it for a while now, before quietly asking,

"Uh, how did you—?" He trails off. Not really knowing what he's asking.

You shrug. "You forget who you're working with. I notice these things, I notice you."

He flexes his eyebrows and thinks for a moment. "So what's your prognosis?"

You look to the corner of the small motel room to think before eventually settling on an answer.

"Only you can really find that out, Spencer."

You look back to see him already looking at you. "Your intelligence is an integral part of who you are, and that's why you're here. Your intellect isn't a barrier—it's a strength. So do what you will with that information."

"What if I can't find the answer?"

"Hm,"

Your legs are starting to get tired, so you move to get on the bed with him. Making sure that there's enough space for the both of you as you settle in. "You always have friends that can help you. Miss Jareau, Sir Morgan, Sir Hotchner, Miss—“

"Even you?"

The face he's making makes your chest feel tight, like there's a pressure building there and yet you don't know why. With his unusually shy behavior, and rounder eyes, it makes your usually impassive expression (to everyone else on the team, at least) soften.

"Especially me."

You pat the spot next to you as you recognize that you should've been asleep an hour ago. Telling Reid that you two should probably sleep so that you can make it tomorrow without being tired and he does just that.

"You don't think I rely on you too much?" You furrow your brows at that. Now looking at him from down on the bed.

"Not any more than you do sir Morgan."

He tries to see the point you're making but fails. So he turns to look at you.

"I don't really...rely on him."

"Exactly."

"...So I don't?"

"How about this," you can tell that being roundabout your answer isn't going to cut it, so you're going to have to switch gears.

"I don't think you do. But even if you did, I wouldn't mind. So if you find yourself ever needing, or wanting," you punctuate this with an earnest look into his eyes, "help from me specifically, in any way, at any time, just come to me—and ask for help. Say something like um, I don't know, uh—" you shake your head as you try to think.

'I need your help,' is too vague, you hear it all the time during cases. 'Could you do me a favor,' won't work either since it doesn't really excuse the both of you so—

"Can we look at this?", "I need you?"

You laugh. Actually laugh out loud at what you just heard. The words you just said practically blended into one another to the point where you don't even know who said what anymore, but that didn't really matter.

Spencer feels his face flush, and his volume increases due to his embarrassment. "Hey, I was just trying to—"

A loud knock is heard from the room's wall, followed by Morgan's voice.

"Newsflash, kids. Some of us are actually trying to sleep. Go argue about your theories later."

The boy-genius and you make eye contact before trying to stifle your laughter, you having a much harder time than the former before revisiting the conversation.

"You know what to tell me when you need me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Let's go to sleep."

You say goodnight, before turning your back to him so you can process what's going on. You wonder if the buzzing feeling you have would go away in time for an actual restful sleep.

You could use one on this case because it seems like the more you uncover, the more you're confused. Theories of all kinds swim in your head, ready to occupy your thoughts for a little while longer before hopefully sending you to a peaceful slumber.

Hotch is going to need you two ready and working.

And because of your nerves, you don't even notice Spencer turning his back to you too. Wondering if you had been feeling the same thing he was from the situation, from the contact, from the conversation, from everything.

Unlike you, he's for sure not getting any sleep.

[a/n] Every time I write for Spencer with this reader, he just can't catch a break-- Send in some ideas for the next part of the anthology if you'd like!! Like certain character interactions, dynamics, etc. I'd like to see what you're interested in seeing :DD

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