#have you ever wanted to beat up a gas pump before because i have

[lightyearssurrogatedaddy]

text me on discord my user's theyeast. please I want to send a cartain someone a threatening image of a gas pump

[zmediaoutlet]

Dean pulls off the highway just past Omaha, some suburb Sam doesn’t catch the name of because he’s been reading on his phone, because they haven’t been talking. He looks up in time to catch the off-ramp, the Taco Bell, the Kum & Go that ordinarily Dean would make a crack about, purely to make Sam roll his eyes. There’s no crack. The car pulls into a gas island and turns off and the driver door—just closes, doesn’t slam, but there’s no discussion of anyone grabbing coffee or Ho-Hos or jerky for the road. Just like the last 450 miles from Wisconsin, there’s no discussion at all.

Sam watches in the side mirror while the c-store door opens, closes. Chews the inside of his cheek. Opens up his contacts and finds Garth’s new number, and texts: Want to make sure you know you can ask us for help if you need it, because he has no idea how Dean left it in that house, when Sam was standing outside not wanting to lean on the Impala, not knowing when he’d get back into it again. Not long before a ping: Happy to hear you say that, amigo! Feels better knowing you and Dean have my back. :)  Sam snorts. In the side-mirror, Dean’s coming back out of the store, and he doesn’t look up while he takes the nozzle off the pump, slots it into the back of the car. He sits on the trunk with his arms folded and Sam looks at the back of his head and then out the windshield, instead. Late in the day. He should be more tired but he’s not. He doesn’t know what he is. His phone pings, again: I really am sorry about how things went down. Nothing I can do can make up for leaving Kevin alone, but let me know if I can help with anything.

Sam swallows. Will do, he texts back, and as he hits send Dean gets back into the car. He glances at Sam’s phone but doesn’t ask. “I’m gonna get a motel room,” he says. His jaw flexes. “Unless—”

“Fine,” Sam says, although it’s not. He wants to go back to the bunker. Wants his own room, wants the cold concrete dark, wants those long hallways that make it feel like there’s a mile between them, even if—three weeks ago—but three weeks ago was a different world, wasn’t it. He didn’t know what was actually living there in the dark with them. What was in him, what Dean had done.

The Corn Queen, rooms $99 a night. Dean idles in front of the office. “Should I get two?” he says, and then clears his throat. “Rooms, I mean. Not—”

A king bed, curling around Dean’s back in the warm, the smell of his hair in the morning. Sam’s stomach hurts. Why did he get back in the car. “I’ll get it,” Sam says, and he does slam the door when he gets out, but he has to get—out, away, and he isn’t polite with the clerk at the desk and he’ll feel bad about that later but the misery of this day is really just catching up with him. How impossible this is going to be. He can’t hate Dean because he just—can’t—but he can’t trust him—but trusting him is fired into his bones, cast in from when he was a kid, when he always wanted to make his own way and find his own answers and live his own life, but he knew in some deep place past conscious decision or thought that if he needed his brother, he would be there. He could reach out and Dean’s hand would grip his and it would be—if not okay, then at least better. He can’t be certain of that, anymore, and even if he can’t hate Dean it’s like the emergency exit door has been ripped off the plane and all the oxygen’s streaming out and there’s no mask to put on, there’s nothing to help.

It’s a motel room. There are two beds. Dean drops his bags on the one closest to the door and folds both of his hands over the back of his neck. He hasn’t shaved in a few days. With his eyes closed he looks as tired as Sam’s ever seen him. Sam wants, and doesn’t, and thinks of how that’s just going to—keep happening. How he’s going to look at Dean and from his marrow will come this innate impulse, and then he’ll remember, and his gut will sour and his heart will beat cold and his hands will stay empty. He dumps his own bags on the other bed. “I’m going to shower,” he says. For something to say.

Dean’s hands drop from the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says, colorless. Sam shuts himself into the bathroom. Weeks or months or maybe the rest of a life, like this. His hand flexes against his thigh and he breathes out until his lungs are empty. Hollow, still. In his head he commits a murder without knowing and Dean’s hands are pleading on his face and when he opens his eyes he’s in a bathroom, in Nebraska somewhere, alone. His heart pumps sick in the pit of his throat.

Something thuds, loud, out in the room. Sam swallows. He takes a shower.

[pregnancykink]

flowers in the desert

– for @wincestwednesdays flash event prompt 1: lost

Sam likes the lost moments, the in-between moments; pulled off the side of an open highway to watch the stars, holed up in a motel room with no guests in either adjoining one and abandoning all pretenses of sleeping separately, watching Dean fill Baby up with gas all gentle like she can feel it. Dean leaning over the counter to slide two twenties to the attendant like she’s a bartender and he wants free shots, Dean’s fingers curled around the pump; squeezing, calloused, dirty under the nails because they haven’t stopped somewhere to shower yet. Taking moments like snapshots, keeping them close, saving them for the rainy day that’s about to be forever when Dean’s year is up.

He likes it when motels are bases and not stopovers, when they’re leaving a hunt and not headed to one. When Dean bitches and moans because they could’ve prepaid for a week and saved a couple bills if they’d known they wouldn’t find a case this whole time from one town to the next, one state to the next, one monster to the next.

And it’s nice, staying at least a week somewhere; Sam knows better than to let some place become a home, but a funny feeling runs through him every time he comes in the door from a beer run and there’s a dent in the mattress from days of use.

Dean will say, “I’m itching to work, man, I need a case,” and Sam will agree because he gets it, but his threshold is higher than Dean’s so he’ll say, “hey, hold on,” and walk Dean back toward the bed. And Dean will go with it, he’ll get all pliant real fast with Sam’s hands pressing on his shoulders until his thighs hit the mattress.

It’s always lights-on but no-talking-during, kisses that are passionate but aren’t always nice because Sam’s still angry about Dean’s deal and Dean’s still angry about Dad, but it’s sex that’s sometimes sweet and all the time slow. In the lost moments it’s not desperate thank-god-we’re-alive and it’s not fast I-could-kill-you-I’m-so-pissed-at-what-you-just-did; it’s not fucking, it’s not making love, it’s sex; tender and mild and biblical but without a shred of virtue. It never takes long; pants off, Dean laying back on the bed, Sam looming over him like a burial shroud or maybe a soft, warm blanket depending on the day.

It never takes long before Sam’s got Dean flipped over, two fingers, three; a hand on his cock even though Dean can come untouched if he’s coaxed into it; he can do anything if he’s coaxed into it and Sam – Sam loves it, loves flipping the switch on all of his brother’s mother henning and turning it back on him. Loves when the headboard beats against the wall when the room next door is empty, maybe even more when it's occupied. Loves when they’re both fucked out and Dean’s shot all over his own stomach, laying there and saying “just lemme be for a moment.” There’s no pillowtalk, no discussing hunts, just pay-per-view on TV be it fight sports or porn, eating delivery because they have the time to wait for it and it's not their names on the card they're paying the fee with anyway.

He’d never say it out loud, but sometimes the lost moments, the in-between moments, they feel like something special to Sam; as close to romance as they’ll ever get, whirlwind in the sense that it's a ticking time bomb. And sometimes Sam will get so wrapped up in things, he’ll forget the date, the month; he’s telling time by the weather alone. And one day Dean will come out of the Gas ‘n’ Sip and toss a box of condoms and a Three Musketeers bar at his head, Sam’s favorite, and he’ll say “you know what day it is?” and Sam will say, “you don’t even know what day it is,” and Dean will say “happy birthday, bitch,” and sure enough it's May 2nd. It’s not the highlight reel, no heroics no guts no glory, but it’s the tired moments, the boring moments, the maybe-it-feels-a-little-domestic moments. The lost moments. They keep Sam going, and they'll keep Sam going when it's all over.

[my past ww event ficlets here]

[chirpybirdy]

playing around in another bikeriders/hbowar crossover and why is benny so fun. benny is so fun im putting benny in EVERYTHING...

A motorcycle rolls in, its roar no doubt summoning the entire campus. “Your boyfriend’s here, Sledgehammer.” Bucky says, not even bothering to look up from his book. Sledgehammer doesn’t look up either. “That’s Benny, idiot.” “What?” Bucky jolts out of bed. “What’s he doing here?” “Go find out. Call me from where ever he takes you.” John stands motionless and Sledgehammer must sense how stupid he looks because he actually raises his head from his very difficult biology homework. “I’m guessing you’re going to miss some classes.” Like he’s slow. And, fine, maybe him and Benny do have something in common, because it does take his stupid-ass an hour to get out the door and down the stairs outside to where Benny is pulled up. Benny has attracted a crowd of pretty young ladies and envious young men. When he holds out a helmet and a leather jacket, Bucky guesses no one is expecting the dubious honor to be extended to a 6’4” male student, but Benny just starts his motorcycle, standing up and jumping down hard on it to get it revving, and the pure, effortless, total lack of giving a shit makes even Bucky feel cool for a second. He’s even able to fake it for the time it takes him to get on the back of the bike and hold tight to Benny’s hips—at least he’s done this before. Ridden on the back of motorcycle. He tells Benny he’s ready and they’re off. To where? John can only guess.

Hours later, Benny pulls over at a gas station in the middle of fucking nowhere. “Whose jacket is this?” John asks. Benny looks at the jacket and then back to the pump. “Where are we going?” A beat of silence followed by Benny’s sigh and more silence. “Buck’s college?” The tank is full and John watches Benny grapple with the thought of what would take more effort: counting out the right amount of cash, or speeding off without paying. John’s about to offer to pay for the gas when Benny takes out the cash and answers John’s question. “Don’t know where else I would take you.” “Oh. Fair enough.” John says to Benny’s back. “You only decided to answer because you were going to go pay, huh? Well, happy I can help you follow the law!” Benny ignores him. He comes back with candy bars, and Bucky would think he stole them just to prove a point if he was anyone else. But, he’s Benny, so it’s just as likely he didn’t want to bother putting the change in his wallet.

[localerenslut]

aot men as feelings/memories.

Part One

Eren is the feeling of sitting on the roof of your old high school. Trying to hide when you see police lights in the distance, knowing they were intended for the two of you. Climbing down the ladder after Eren, his hands wrap around your body to carry you down the last few rungs of the ladder because they were getting closer. Holding hands as you run through the shortcut you each knew well that went through the woods behind the school. Stopping momentarily to kiss deeply, pulling away, panting and laughing.

Eren is sneaking out of your window, knowing damn well your parents would kill you if they knew you had left in the middle of the night but not caring because any punishment was worth just one minute with Eren.

Eren is a bar fight that results in him getting arrested, beating the hell out of some creep that kept touching you. He kisses you as he is put into the back of the police car, a smile across his face and a wink before they slam the car door.

Eren is crying in your arms about how much he loves you. How he’s never felt this way. How he can’t ever lose you. How you were made to love one another.

Eren is asking you to marry him with a candy ring. It seems like a joke. But he means it. God, does he mean it. “I’m a fuck up. I don’t do the right thing. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know whatever it is, I want to do it with you. I want this forever. Marry me. I mean it. Marry me.”

Eren is dumb decisions. Danger. Tears and fights. Sleepless nights full of skin on skin. Jealousy. Deep, passionate love. Love preserved only for soulmates.

Eren is marriage at a young age.

Eren is a marriage that lasts forever.

Armin is the feeling of stopping off on the side of the road because you saw a field of horses on a long road trip and begged him to stop so you could pet the one horse that was close to the fence by the road.

Armin is a soft whisper of an apology after a fight.

Armin is constant reassurance of, “you’re so beautiful.” “you’re all i want. forever.”

Armin is gushing about you when you’re not around. Talking about everything he loves about you. Comments like “oh yeah, that’s y/n’s favorite-”

Armin is soft prayers at night of “I don’t know if there’s anyone up there. Or if anyone’s listening, but let me have her forever. Please. Don’t ever take her away from me. I’ll do anything.”

Armin is taking pictures of you in a field of pretty flowers in your favorite dress.

Armin is the unbelievable, overwhelming feeling of “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.” as he watches you twirl around in the bright sunflowers, your beauty outshining it all.

Armin is gentle love. Constant Public Displays of Affection. Quick, sweet pecks against your forehead. Kisses littered across your face accompanied by a plethora of “I love you’s!”

Levi is the feeling of late night drinks on a rooftop bar in the city. The city skyline is twinkling just as the stars above, one arm wrapped around your waist and holding the railing as you look out past the buildings, head rested on the shoulder of the man you loved the most.

Levi is not having to pump gas yourself since you first started this relationship. Whether you were driving or not, it didn’t matter. He was far too insistent and you gave up arguing with the gesture.

Levi is low hums as he folds the laundry, bringing the freshly washed and still warm blanket to you in the other room where you were doing work, wrapping it around your shoulders before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Levi is deep, passionate kisses while doing the most random of tasks, leaving you breathless before he walks away as if it was just an innocent act.

Levi is picking you up from your spot on the couch and carrying you to bed after falling asleep halfway through a movie you promised you wouldn’t fall asleep during because, “Baby, I’m not even that tired. I promise.”

Levi is a hand on your thigh every time you’re in the car. Even if you’re in the middle of an argument. Even when you tell him to fuck off.

Levi is an arm instinctively thrown out across your chest to push you back against the seat when “some fucking moron” pulls out in front of him, causing him to slam on the brakes.

Levi is feeling secure every second of being with him.

Levi is knowing you have someone who would not hesitate to kill and die for you.

Levi is tears slowly forming and spilling over to streak his face as he looks up to see you walking towards him at the end of the aisle as he stands at the altar. Walking towards the rest of your life.

Jean is the feeling of hugs from behind and a cheesy greeting of hands over your eyes and a “Guess who!”

Jean is texts of “Have you eaten?” “Do you need anything?” “i’m proud of you.”

Jean is unexpected small gifts because “I saw this at the store and it reminded me of you.”

Jean is flowers on a random Tuesday because “it’s been two weeks since I got you flowers, I’m slacking.”

Jean is dancing in the rain.

Jean is being parked on a cliff above the city just like in the movies, sitting on the hood of the car as you listen to whatever new indie artist he liked.

Jean is the first time “i love you” is uttered as you share two ear buds, holding hands as you lay upon the same car hood, staring up at the sky. His eyes filling with tears as he turned his face to the side, watching you as you close your eyes, gradually letting the music invade all of your thoughts before he spoke up, ripping you from your trance. “I’m so in love with you.”

Jean is going out with friends and never once making you feel bad when you ask to go home a bit earlier than expected, an immediate “Okay, baby. Let’s head out.”

Jean is wanting to grow together, experiencing every milestone together.

Jean is applying to the same schools as you after graduating. Opening your letters at the same time, both of you accepted, jumping up and down with the biggest of smiles, kissing as he congratulates you, “We’re going to take on the world together, baby. This is the start of forever.”

Jean is crossing the stage with you as you now graduate college together. Ready to walk through life hand in hand. Just like he promised four years ago; forever.

Connie is the feeling of a late night swim in the ocean. Waves freezing and beating against your torsos. Splashing water and squealing each time you felt the cold drops come your way.

Connie is body shaking laughter, tears streaming down your face, hardly a sound coming from your throat. Adding onto each other’s scenarios to make it funnier and funnier.

Connie is 3am drives to grab food at a drive thru before coming home and watching food competition shows where he swears he “could cook better than those amateurs. How do you forget the fondant?!! Idiots!”

Connie is inviting everyone you know over the second you buy your new home together, a huge family dinner, looking around at all of the people you now consider family. Thinking, if you could freeze any moment and live it over again for the rest of your life, it would be this. It would be Sasha and Mikasa helping you set the table. Eren and Jean teasing Connie about “You let her talk you into a rock that big? Damn, Connie, you’re down bad.” as Sasha and Mikasa told them to shut up, that your new engagement ring was worth more than their entire existence.

Connie is never a dull moment. Connie is spontaneity. Connie is new adventures the second you say “I wanna go here”.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Prologue 0. Closing Time

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 6286

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

The sky was empty — save for one bird.

Daryl watched it fly above him, so close to the ground that he could make out the beating of its wings and swore he saw individual feathers flutter in the breeze.

His fingers itched over his crossbow, as he contemplated shooting it down from the sky and plucking it clean. He'd have something to eat then, at least. Though, for some reason, Daryl Dixon couldn't bring himself to let loose his arrow, watching as the bird soared overhead — and disappeared beyond the trees.

The man sighed as he kicked up some loose stones with the toe of his boot. What a waste, he thought, before trudging through the field once again.

The sky remained cloudless for the rest of the day, existing as a pale, washed-out grey that made Daryl feel uncomfortable as he hunted. The game must have felt the same, since the deer he'd been tracking made itself scarce, and the string of squirrels hanging from his belt seemed no heavier than it had done when the sun rose that morning.

Still, he trekked onwards over the thick, winding grass and through damp forest overgrowth. He was nearly back at the quarry already, but he hardly had anything to show for it. A few measly rodents and a sprained ankle were barely worth his trip in the first place; they sure as hell wouldn't be enough for all of the mouths he now had to feed.

Daryl cursed at himself for hesitating to shoot that bird straight out of the sky, and clip its wings. It wasn't much, but maybe it would have lasted a day if he was lucky. Still, there was no use wondering now, since it had swooped so close to him that he almost felt the downward draft on his cheek — and then he let it fly away.

He thought that it had been a jaeger; it definitely looked like a seabird that had veered too far from the shore. It was a gull with a white breast and dark, blackish feathers — and a wingspan that made sure you couldn't miss it.

He remembered you pointing one out to him, at 3am, parked up on that deserted beach as the two of you stared out into the rocking ocean.

"Ya thinkin' 'bout 'er again, baby brother?"

Daryl could hear Merle's voice taunt, in the deepest, darkest corners of his thoughts.

"Tha' lil' birdie of yours?"

He quickly shook his head — even though it was the truth.

It had been Daryl's own mind that conjured up those words, after all. Merle wasn't actually here. He was probably back at the campsite, lazing about and leering after women far too good for a beaten-up redneck like him.

Though, funnily enough, Merle had said the exact same thing to Daryl when he noticed his gaze settling over the new bar server, who swiped away the froth spilling over from their draught beers. Merle had given him even more of an earful when he realised that his younger brother was waiting for her shift to end.

Daryl took a deep breath, before rolling his neck to try and relieve the tension that had built up there. Once his mind drifted into thoughts of you — even if only for a split second — it often sank to the point of no return.

You were all consuming; you had been from the first time he laid eyes on you in that old, country auto-repair shop.

He remembered the way your voice chirped like a bird's, despite the curses that often fell from your lips.

You even made those sound sweet.

And he could also recall the way you yelled over the rumble of his bike engine, and competed with the screeching that came from his tyres losing their grip on the worn-out tarmac.

You'd told him that it felt like you were flying — and that was probably the reason why Daryl Dixon couldn't shoot that jaeger.

Then, the man heard something louder than he had done since the world ended — and suddenly, the sky was no longer empty.

There was an explosion, and that dull greyness was set alight with brilliant hues of red and orange. It made fire start to rain down upon Daryl, who could only stand and watch below. Debris fell out of the sky like a meteor shower, landing beyond the trees in the distance — to a place that Daryl couldn't quite make out, no matter how much he squinted.

The air became full with the sounds of scraping metal and flickering flames that caught the leaves and made them burn up like the end of a cigarette. Daryl felt his heart race as the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins, and made him flinch each time something crashed heavily to the ground.

There was often a moment in a person's life where their brain got kick-started into gear — and they awoke from whatever auto-pilot they'd been functioning on until that point.

For most, it was probably a mundane milestone like marriage or parenthood.

For others, it might have been a life or death situation that made them re-evaluate their perspective.

For some, it had only happened when the world actually ended, and the apocalypse began.

And perhaps, if Daryl had been a smarter man, it would have been this instant — as he gazed up at the sky and watched it burn above him. Maybe this was his second life-changing realisation; maybe he was lucky enough to get two.

But, for Daryl, the first had just been a regular Tuesday.

The garage was sticky hot that day. It was the kind of heat that made you sweat no matter how many fans you had blowing — since Old man Dean was too cheap to install air conditioning. His boss was a bit of a stickler for paying his bills, and nit picky with his nickles, but he'd always been kind to Daryl.

That being said, working as a mechanic wasn't exactly where Daryl had pictured himself at his age; but then again, he couldn't really picture himself anywhere at all. He felt like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle, which didn't quite fit in with the others — the one that you had to bend into shape just to make it work.

Sure, he enjoyed seeing the different bikes roll in and out of the shop — those models he would never be able to afford — and Daryl appreciated having a few extra dollars in his pocket for when Merle raided his savings to score some pot.

Besides, there wasn't much else to do in the boonies. Daryl's old man once told him that the only interesting thing to rear its ugly head out of Georgia's backyard in the last fifty years was Dean's Auto Shop. That's probably why Daryl started working there in the first place, as a summer job when he was teenager — and had never really left since.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his old man had been right about one thing — despite the bastard never catching on to the role of father. He'd been right about the shop being the only interesting thing around.

Because it was the place where he met her.

And then she became the only thing in that small town even worth being interested in.

Daryl didn't hear a car pull up into the shop, but he heard the mumbling outside from where he sat in the breakroom — chewing on some of Dean's leftover pizza that was bordering on stale.

"Dixon, get your ass out here for a second, would you?" the old man yelled, banging on the thin wall that separated them with his fist.

Daryl cursed below his breath, throwing the rest of his food into the trash and dusting off his hands over his jeans. He stepped out into the shop, and was met by an unfamiliar face — looking over at him curiously.

He suddenly felt unexplainably nervous, and dropped his head down to his feet as though it were a reflex he didn't know he had.

"This is your guy," he heard Dean say, before letting out one of his usual chesty coughs.

The man smoked a pack a day too much — and that was coming from Daryl.

"Owner of that bike you've been eyeing, too," he went on.

That caught Daryl's attention, and he instantly glanced up at the woman in question. She was breath-taking, but she also looked very much out of breath. She seemed as though she had run here, despite the Georgia heat.

"You ride?" he asked, but his gruff voice made it sound like more of a demand.

He grimaced at his own tone, but the woman didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

She laughed, and it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. "I wish," she said, running her palm along the polished metal and tracing her finger over that shiny logo.

Usually, Daryl would bark at anyone who touched his bike, and Dean seemed as though he expected him to do just that — from the way he raised an eyebrow at the daring woman, too oblivious for her own good.

Except, Daryl stayed quiet.

"Was never allowed within a mile radius of one," she went on, before turning back around to grin at Daryl like it was easy. "My folks were scared I'd take off into the sunset, never to be seen again."

He could relate to that. After all, it was exactly what he and Merle had done as soon as they'd gotten the chance.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before glancing over at the car parked in the middle of the shop. "She's pretty."

It was a steel blue colour — would definitely benefit from a lick of paint, but still pretty nonetheless. The tread looked good on the tyres, and Daryl couldn't see any signs of the rusting those models were prone to. Someone had taken good care of it.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, and suddenly Daryl was reminded of just how bad he was with words.

He cleared his throat, and ran his hand over the hood.

"Yer car," he explained, "'69 Chevy Camaro?"

Daryl asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah, that," she replied, sending him an apologetic look. "It's my grandpa's, so we're going to have to be real discreet about this situation over here."

Daryl raised an eyebrow as she beckoned him to the other side of the car, crouching down near the wheel arch.

"Some bastard left a nail in the road, and I ran straight through the thing like it was a stop sign," she grumbled, pointing out the puncture.

Daryl almost laughed at that — but he was still much too jaded from being caught in the middle of his break.

The woman stood back up and toed the deflated tyre with her boot, scowling at the sight of it.

"I know you're closing soon, but I had to push it half a mile just to get here," she said, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, her appearance made sense. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, all she'd done was tug at the collar of her vest, and try to stand in front of one of those poor excuses for a fan. But even then, Daryl couldn't quite believe her story.

"Ain't no way ya pushed that thing 'ere by yerself." The words left his mouth before he could consider them twice.

And the look she shot Daryl in return made him want to take them straight back.

But then, she smiled.

"I'm stronger than I look," she protested, leaning against the hot car. "You can ask the dozen assholes who catcalled me on the way but never offered their help."

This time, Daryl did let out a chuckle.

"Damn lucky y'ain't pass out," he quipped back, "heat's no joke."

She grinned again, and Daryl wondered whether she had an endless supply — or if she'd saved them just for him.

"Tell me about it," the woman teased. "Never liked visiting Georgia because of it."

Then, it all made sense to Daryl — the reason why she intrigued him so much.

"Y'ain't from 'round here, are ya?" he asked, surprising himself.

Usually, he couldn't give a 'rat's ass', as Dean called it, about anyone who stumbled into their shop. Never did they get more than a half-hearted greeting from Daryl, or a grunt as he told them to mind their head on that low door frame (she didn't have that problem). Though today, he seemed oddly talkative.

"Haven't seen ya before," he added.

The woman folded her arms over her chest.

"Would you recognise me if you had?" she asked.

"E'erybody knows e'erybody in this place," he answered. "I'd remember if I saw ya cross the street."

It was partially the truth. Daryl knew most people — but he only bothered to remember a select few.

"Moved here last week," she caved, proving him right. "I'm keeping my grandparents company watching daytime cable and doing grocery runs."

Daryl smirked. "An' runnin' over nails with their car, apparently."

"That, too," she confessed.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Daryl realised that he should probably give her a quote for the job. Though, she interrupted him before he could.

"Listen, your new neighbour would be really grateful if you could cut her a break," she said, eyeing the Camaro like she was considering whether it was even worth the hassle. "The old man's going to kill me if I come home on foot tonight."

Daryl knew what she was asking. The notice in the shop window made it clear that they'd be closing in half an hour; Daryl had been all but ready to flip the sign himself. Before she'd arrived, he'd even dared to think that he could shut early — and possibly get to crack open a cold beer and enjoy the breeze of his porch.

He sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl mumbled, "but I ain't makin' no promises," he warned — as he caught the way her eyes lit up at his words.

But that was a lie. Daryl knew he wouldn't let himself go home until it was finished.

The woman was utterly gleeful. He watched her smile much too widely for her face, and for a moment Daryl thought that she might even jump at him. But she seemed to catch herself at the last second, and abruptly stopped.

She didn't falter long, though. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she said, excitedly, before pausing to tap at her jean pockets. "I don't have any cash on me for a deposit, but I'm heading to work now."

She looked sheepish as she explained herself.

"I'll come straight back and pay in full," she added, trying her best to convince him.

Daryl narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite understand. Then he did, and he laughed properly.

"Deposit?" he asked, shaking his head. "City girl, here we jus' keep yer vehicle if ya can't pay."

The woman's expression was priceless. She looked as though she couldn't figure out whether he was joking or not, and stared at Daryl with her mouth slightly agape as she debated which it was.

He couldn't watch any longer.

"Where ya workin'?" he asked.

Then, he cursed himself for doing so. Time was ticking on, and he already had to stay overtime because of his inability to say no. Well, usually he had no problem with the word; it just seemed like it was stuck in his throat today.

"Joe's bar," she replied. "It's a few blocks over and-"

"I know Joe's bar," Daryl interrupted.

Everybody knew Joe's. It was the only place around that sold a decent draught beer. He'd been going there since he was a teenager — younger than he should have been, but old enough to know better.

"Me an' my brother go there a lot, but I ain't seen you 'round."

She nodded.

"Only started a few days ago. Hopefully they don't fire me for being late."

Daryl glanced at the clock. It was approaching his closing time and her opening one.

"Ya better get runnin', Camaro," he noted, tapping at his watch that didn't even work. "Rush hour soon."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the nickname. Daryl didn't know her real one yet, and felt like it was too late to ask for it. He'd have to catch a glimpse of Dean's log book later to find out.

"Will do," she replied with a smile. "Thanks again, Dixon."

Though Daryl couldn't quite work out how she knew his name, either.

He watched her scurry about collecting her things, and walked her to the entrance. The sun was starting to set — leaving the sky a pinkish orange that only made him squint the more he looked at it. He held the door open for the woman, and heard Dean snort from the back of the shop. But the way she thanked him made it worth the teasing.

"Take care of that sixties Honda," she winked, "she's a real beauty."

Daryl was surprised that she knew the model of his bike, considering she'd never even ridden one.

"If only ya knew," he mumbled back as he saw her off. "Will take ya for a ride one time if yer willin'."

She stopped in place. Daryl didn't know why he said that. It had just slipped from his mouth like oil from a can.

The woman laughed and rolled her eyes like she didn't believe him.

"That's what they all say."

Then, she started to jog down the street — just like she said she would — and Daryl thought her crazy for even attempting it in this midsummer Georgia weather. That woman had entered the shop like a whirlwind, and when she left Daryl couldn't remember what he'd even been doing before.

Dean cleared his throat and threw a rag at him that he barely managed to catch.

"Keep it in your pants, boy."

Daryl scowled at the man; he knew him better than that. So, he didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply, and instead got started on setting the Camaro up on a jack.

"She's a beauty, I get it," Dean went on, despite his silence. "Her type don't belong in a place like this, that's for damn sure."

Daryl had to agree with him there. He'd gotten a glimpse of his reflection in the wing mirror of her car and grimaced. He had grease on his face, and part of him cursed Dean for not telling him before he'd left the breakroom.

"But you know Mike and Doreen?" the old man asked, and Daryl nodded. "That's their granddaughter."

Daryl furrowed his brow — not realising he'd done it until he caught himself in the glass once again. Mike was a hard man, the type to straighten out any kinks in a person with brute force and that baby boomer spite.

"She may be real pretty, kid, but that one's trouble," Dean noted, confirming his suspicions.

He ignored the way he called him 'kid'. The old man still hadn't grown out of the habit — despite Daryl being well beyond his teenage years now.

"Trouble?" he repeated, like he couldn't quite comprehend the word being associated with someone like that.

Dean chuckled — but it turned into one of those coughs that made Daryl wince.

"Maybe more so than you," he said. "Got kicked out of the military, I heard."

Daryl spat at the floor, and Dean laughed again. They both hated those military dogs who often paraded through their town, looking at them as though they were trash beneath their government-issued boots.

But, if she'd been kicked out then maybe they could find some common ground.

Old man Dean wagged his finger at him, recognising Daryl's no-good expression; he'd become familiar with it by now, from all the times he'd worn it throughout the years.

"So don't go losing your head over her, Dixon," he cautioned, pretending not to know how good Daryl was at throwing caution to the wind.

"And remember to close up before you leave."

But it was too late.

Daryl had already lost his head, and his heart — but he wouldn't know that the latter was missing for a very long time.

You ran the cloth along the oak bar surface, wiping away any sticky beer rings that had been left there.

This is why we have coasters, you sighed.

It had been a slow Tuesday night, but you'd somehow still been roped into working the close. You tried to tell your boss that you were having car troubles, and had plans to stop by the garage on your way home — but he seemed to prioritise his own date over yours.

Well, you wouldn't exactly call giving the local mechanic his cheque a date; usually, you didn't have to pay for those. But you couldn't deny how it had made you feel when he smiled that smile your way — so small that you'd almost missed it — before you took off running out the door.

It gave you whiplash.

Perhaps he was just being friendly. But, then again, he didn't seem like the naturally friendly type. You shook your head, throwing the beer-soaked rag into the sink. You didn't trust that man in the slightest.

That wasn't a new development, really; you didn't trust most men. And, you often found that the ones who made your heart race like that were the worst of them all. He was trouble, that one, and you'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

You untied the double knot of your apron, and folded it up neatly. There were a few whiskey stains on it — you'd caught a whiff of that top-shelf scent a few times now — but you were already too late to even consider putting it in the wash. Instead, you left it at the end of the bar, and swapped it out for the ring of keys lying there.

It was closing time, and you prepared yourself to run three blocks in the dark. You stepped out into the night, feeling the cool breeze on your cheek as opposed to the midday heat that had been there when your shift started. You flipped the latch and turned the key in the lock until you heard it click.

Then, you held them between your knuckles so that the jagged edge poked out.

"Ya done for the night?" a voice came from the shadows, and your heart dropped.

That brief second lasted a lifetime as the blood rushed to your ears like a strong current through running water, and your grip tightened over those keys. But then, you noticed the reflection in the glass panels of the door — and relaxed.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," you scolded the man, "thought you were a dejected patron tryna jump me or something."

Perhaps he was; you still didn't know any better.

Dixon was leaning against that dingy brick wall, opposite the back door of Joe's Bar. You didn't even know what that other building was — but some sketchy figures usually loomed about it, so you tried to stay clear.

Maybe he didn't get the memo, you thought.

"Tha' happen before?" the man asked back, casually.

Though, the dim street lights overhead illuminated his face, and you caught a glimpse of his serious expression before he let it drop. He held a lit cigarette between his fingers — almost smoked down to the butt already — and it made you wonder just how long he'd been waiting for you.

"Maybe once or twice," you laughed, but it didn't sound as natural as you had intended.

You noticed the man's eyes flicker down towards the keys held between your knuckles, and you quickly slipped them into your jean pocket — hoping that he wouldn't pry. Luckily, he didn't seem like the type to unnecessarily butt into other people's business.

The smoke trailed from his lips and caught the stark light of the street lamp. He almost looked cold — bathed in that bluish tint which made those cigarette fumes seem nearly luminescent.

"You here to make sure I don't run off with your paycheck?" you teased, fishing out the wad of bills from your back pocket.

You waved them at him, and considered how precarious the situation may seem to an onlooker if they happened to pass by. The man looked as though he felt the same, since he quickly glanced over his shoulder down the alleyway — checking to make sure you were alone.

"Don't worry, Dixon, I busted my ass tonight just so I could leave you a nice tip," you said with a smile, handing the money to him.

He took it, slowly, as though he had to remind himself what it was even for.

Then, he let that cigarette butt fall to the floor, and stamped it out with his boot — before dragging it along the concrete until it was nothing but embers.

The man shook his head at you. "'M here on behalf of the welcome committee."

You snorted as you processed his words, and followed him out of that narrow alleyway into the main street.

"Bullshit," you called, "as if-"

You rounded the corner after him, and stopped. He was there, leaning against that pristine sixties Honda bike — spare helmet in hand.

It was parked up on the sidewalk, polished metal glinting in all its glory under those neon lamps. Dixon was almost camouflaged against it — his black leather jacket also speckled with white light. He held out that helmet, as if it were an invitation he was waiting for you to accept.

But he seemed shy — as though acutely aware that it was only an invite, and nothing more. So, you took it, and shook your head as you realised that it wasn't his spare helmet he had offered you; it was his only helmet.

"Said I'd take ya," he murmured, fastening the strap gently under your chin.

It was too big, so the man compensated by tying it tighter until you felt like your jaw was wired shut. But, you just smiled.

"An' I ain't no liar," he said when he was done, and kicked his leg over the bike.

Then, you sped off into the night.

You yelled over the sound of the engine for him to go faster, and laughed as you had to spit out the stray hairs that had blown into your mouth. Your clothes whipped in the wind, too, and you clung to the man in front of you as though you were afraid they might catch the draft, and make you fly away. It was electrifying; your whole body felt like pure static as you rode past shop displays and windows that made your reflections look like hazed blurs.

That whole trip felt like a hazed blur, really, because suddenly you were there.

"Where are we?" you asked, unsure of where 'there' even was. "Why'd we stop?"

You pulled the helmet from your head and cocked your leg over the bike. The man let out a chuckle at the sight of your hair, sticking up from the static — as though lightning might strike at any moment.

"Smoke break," Dixon grumbled, before coaxing out the squashed cardboard packet from his jeans. "You want one?" he asked, offering it to you.

You shook your head; you didn't smoke.

He shrugged in response, cupping his hands to his face to get a flame from his lighter. You left him to it, and turned away from the bike to catch the view.

And what a view it was, indeed.

You hadn't even noticed the sounds of the lapping ocean waves before you saw them. The cliff overlooked the beach below, desolate, with a high tide that drew the shore into you. Your grandmother had told you about this place once, on the phone a few months back as she tried to sell rural Georgia to you.

It wasn't like you were given much of a choice, anyway.

But now that you'd been shipped out here — against your will, no doubt — you had to admit that she'd been partly right. It was breath-taking. Back in the city, a place like this would be littered with beer cans and tacky, disposable barbeques within a week of someone posting about it online. Here, however, it looked untouched.

It was as though the two of you were the first to ever set foot here, on this particular crag that overlooked the waves — leaving your footprints alongside tyre treads for the next pioneers to discover.

You glanced back at Dixon over your shoulder — who was busy trying to look as though he wasn't already looking at you — and smiled.

He was one hell of a welcome committee.

Daryl almost choked on the fumes of his cigarette — letting out a cough that reminded him of the way old man Dean spluttered in the mornings. He really needed to kick that habit, he thought, and snubbed out his cigarette on the ground.

Then, you scowled at him, so he picked the butt back up and stuffed it into his pocket, grimacing at the thought of having to clean it up later.

He had been lying about the smoke break, really, but then he needed to carry out his excuse. Initially, he'd only thought about picking you up from the bar and offering you a ride back to the shop. He hadn't the slightest clue of how that plan had become this.

Somewhere along the way, Daryl might have accidentally taken a wrong turn, and ended up in the most scenic place he would think of. Stupid damn street signs, he cursed, as though he hadn't driven those roads a hundred times before.

Camaro seemed to call him out on his bluff, too, since she turned to face him and immediately shook her head.

"You're lying," she said, as though she were certain, "but the view is extraordinary, so I'll forgive you just this once."

Daryl swallowed thickly, tasting the tobacco that had made his throat so dry. For someone who claimed himself not to be a liar, that was all he seemed to be doing today.

Then, he watched you make your way towards the edge of that cliff, like you couldn't even hear him warning you to be careful. It was like you weren't paying him the slightest attention. Daryl was used to that from women — but somehow, this was different.

You didn't look down on him, nor at him with any hint of prejudice for wearing jeans still coated in oil, and boots he'd had to tape the soles of just to keep them together. In fact, you weren't looking at him at all. You seemed far more concerned with the stars that flickered in the night sky above you, but at the same time grateful towards the man for having brought you to them.

"You treat all your customers like this, Dixon?" you asked him.

He watched you turn around and look at him like you'd only just remembered that he was there. But, then you beamed a smile at him so bright that it put the stars to shame — and made all of your other ones look dim in comparison.

"Y'ain't special," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Jus' given' ya a lift home 'cos Dean told me to."

Though, Dean had left the shop hours ago.

Daryl watched you laugh like you'd caught him out one more time.

"There you go again," you said, teasingly. "Do you ever tell the truth?"

No, he didn't. He always tried to, but oftentimes it never did him any good. The people of this town had already made the assumption that he was a natural born liar. You were the first person to ever make the distinction between his white lies and those other types.

All his life, Daryl had been pigeon-holed into the role of good for nothing redneck, and had only recently graduated to the slightly less stereotyped town mechanic. But that night it was as if someone, for the first time, tried to get a peek at whatever was underneath.

Old man Dean was right. You were trouble — but not for the reason he had said. You were trouble because you seemed entirely unaware of your place in the world, and it made Daryl start to question his own. You seemed nice — perhaps even lovely — but Daryl never trusted those types. He knew you were far too good to be wasting away the early hours of the morning with the likes of him — and it left him wondering what exactly you wanted.

You'd already paid for his services, after all.

"Thank you for letting me see the stars again," you breathed, stretching your neck which ached from staring at the sky. "It's been a while."

Back then, Daryl didn't quite understand what that meant. He'd thought perhaps that you'd been talking about city pollution.

On the way back, Daryl felt you cling onto him tightly as he drove through empty roads, and passed the old, flickering street lights that blinked like camera flashes. But, when his fingers accidentally brushed up against yours, as you both reached for the shop door, you pulled your hand away.

It had only been a random Tuesday — that had eventually rolled into a Wednesday by the time he'd gotten you back into your repaired Camaro — but that was the moment in his life where Daryl felt like he had finally woken up.

But even awake, he often found himself lost in daydreams of the woman who crash landed into his life, and disappeared from it just as quickly as she came.

Daryl followed the trail of debris that had fallen from the sky, as though he were tracking some giant, metal bird. He didn't want to stick around too long, given that the noise had probably attracted every damn walker in the area; he just hoped that he was still far enough away from camp that they wouldn't be drawn there.

He stepped over the hunks of hot wreckage, some of it still ablaze, until he eventually came across something soft and not made of metal.

It was that jaeger. It was dead.

It looked as though it had been struck straight out of the sky. Its feathers lay scattered around it — the white breast now red with blood — and its wing was bent at a crooked angle, broken.

Daryl scowled. If he'd known that it was going to have such a meaningless death, then he would have shot it himself. Though, he still didn't add the bird to his string of dead animals; he thought that it had suffered enough.

He continued onwards through the brush until he stumbled across what he'd been looking for. But even as he saw it with his own eyes, Daryl couldn't quite believe it. Before him was the husk of a downed helicopter, burning in the middle of the forest.

Immediately, he ran to it, tripping over the wreckage as it got thicker and harder to navigate.

Though, there was no pilot inside — only radios and machinery parts that Daryl didn't know the names of. They screeched high frequency sounds as they caught on fire, and it made his ears ring the longer he listened.

So, he turned back.

That was when he saw it — them — a few meters away. His stomach dropped. Guess that's the pilot, he thought, looking up at the body tangled in the trees.

He'd never seen a parachute in real life before — only ever in the movies. He'd also never understood how that flimsy material could stop someone from plummeting to their death.

Well, in this case it hadn't.

The pilot was dangling from one of the branches, all caught up in those wire cables like a fish on a line. The limbs were contorted awkwardly, and Daryl swallowed thickly at the sight of their arm which had definitely been broken — reminding him of that miserable jaeger's wing.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave. The smell of burning rubber and the white noise from those radios would probably keep him up for the next few nights, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave, but then the body spoke to him.

"Dixon?" he heard it gasp.

And Daryl wondered just how many impossible things he might encounter today.

The voice startled him, and he almost stumbled over his own foot in return. Walkers couldn't speak, and they surely wouldn't know his name, either. Then, he caught the slightest movement, and recognised a jacket much too familiar. It had been his, after all, before he'd given it to you.

The pilot groaned, and Daryl recognised that tone of voice, too. He quickly fumbled about for his pocket knife, not even stopping to consider how the hell he'd be able to cut you down.

He couldn't even comprehend how you were alive-

"How's it hanging?" the voice spluttered.

-and how you'd kept that same god awful sense of humour.

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A/N I’ve tried so hard to post this, sorry for all the technical difficulties...

[spaceskam]

woke me up from the longest dream

Summary: Alex and Michael follow up on a lead and find something powerful.

Tags: canon compliant (for the most part), visions, road trips, my deep sky still sucks agenda

ao3

"Why is it so fucking cold?" 

"Welcome to Montana," Alex said dryly.

Michael made a face and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was doing his best to be mature about Alex inviting him on this trip. It was another loose lead he found and he was irritated that he didn't find it until after he came back home. Michael had offered to help after a grueling time in self-induced misery and Alex had agreed and he had planned to use this time to show Alex how much he'd grown.

However, there was something about being alone with Alex that made him feel a little like he hadn’t. 

"Are you not cold?"

"Didn't we deduce that your species is from a really cold planet due to your body temperature and the clothing Tripp described they were wearing?" Alex asked back.

Michael was used to a vaguely snarky Alex, it was in his genetic makeup. This was a different level though. Alex was in one of the worst moods Michael had ever seen him in that didn't result in a fight, instead it was all icy silence and irritated answers. Michael wasn't sure if it was because of his breakup with Forrest or if it was something else entirely. Maybe it was the fact that Michael was here at all.

He decided to keep quiet.

"You got me," Michael said, taking slightly bigger strides to keep up with Alex.

They were in a small town that served as a hub for a few even smaller towns that surrounded it. It had one small stretch of road with all the local businesses in it, a shabby hotel, a diner, and a farmer's market being the three biggest options. There were a couple others buildings, but Michael couldn't say what they were by just looking at them from the outside.

Alex seemed to know where he was headed though and he waltzed up to a building that was only identifiable by a sign that was meant to say CORRIE'S but was missing a few letters and said CORE instead. He pushed the door open and Michael followed. The inside had the heater blasting in a way that immediately smothered him, but he managed to keep his face even. It looked like a convenience store with only three rows of shelves in the middle. A sign at the back door read GAS PUMP IN BACK. Michael thought that was bad advertising.

"Hello," an older woman at the counter greeted. She seemed to be the only one here.

"Hey," Alex said, approaching her and turning on an easy smile. Logically Michael just knew he was being charming to get what he came here for. Illogically, it felt like Alex could be nice to everyone but him.

How many times could he tell himself to grow up? 

"What can I help you two with?" she asked. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this place is owned by someone who used to live in Fort Belknap?" Alex said, not even beating around the bush to charm her more. That was the only thing to convince him it wasn't just him. 

The woman stared at him, face unchanging. 

"Who's asking?" 

"Holt," Alex said, smiling and tilting his head a little bit, "Carla Holt, to be more specific."

She breathed in and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them a few moments later. 

"Their timing has always been impeccable," she said, gesturing towards a door behind her, "Come."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael whispered to him as they followed. Alex grabbed his arm and squeezed, nearly causing Michael to fully trip over air. 

"Just follow my lead. Stay quiet," Alex explained quietly, "I'll tell you later."

And Michael did as he said. 

"You must be the littlest Manes boy," the woman said as she led them into a little office. It was cluttered and didn't really seem like the top secret place Michael was imagining. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Corrie," she corrected, "I never did like the sound of ma'am."

"Alright," Alex said, laughing lightly even though didn't reach his eyes, "My mother told me the same thing." 

"I bet so," Corrie said, digging through messy drawers of a desk. She sat down heavily into the beat up chair and started digging through a file cabinet. "I kept telling myself it'll eventually come and bite me in the ass, carrying secrets for someone I only hear from once every few years, but you never know what you're getting yourself into until after you're stuck."

"Yeah, I know how that feels," Alex sighed. Michael's eyes drifted to him. He avoided eye contact completely.

"I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting you. Your brother, maybe. Part of me expected your father to bust down my door more than anyone," she went on. Corrie pulled out a small box and opened it, looking in and making a face before closing it and tossing it over her shoulder. 

"Guess I'm the sucker who agreed to clean up duty."

Corrie laughed.

Truly, Michael expected more danger and more difficulty. He expected a fight or at least tension. Instead, Alex and Corrie made small talk about their shitty affiliations while Corrie dug through decades worth of clutter. Eventually, she pulled out a box and opened it and took a deep breath. She closed it again before giving it to Alex and Alex didn't reopen it so Michael had no idea what was in it. All he knew was that it went into Alex's bag.

"Thank you "

"Keep it safe," Corrie said, "Keep yourself safe." Then for the first time her eyes drifted to Michael. "You too. There aren't many of you left."

It was hot in the building, but somehow Michael felt like he'd jumped in ice water.

"Thank you."

"Mhm. Now get the hell out of my store before somebody follows you."

"Of course. Thank you again," Alex said politely and then he did as she said, turning on his heel and walking away. Michael wanted to stay and ask more–if she knew what he was, maybe she knew things he didn't and they could get rid of Mr. Jones–but Michael simply followed Alex's lead.

"Alex," Michael said, nearly having to jog to keep up. Alex opened the door of the store and a blast of cold hit Michael in the face, colder than before due to the extreme warmth inside. It took him a moment to reboot his mind enough to finish what he was saying. "Alex, what's in the box?"

Alex managed to close his eyes and shake his head in disapproval without slowing his pace. 

"Can you wait until we get to the hotel?" Alex asked, cold again. Michael nodded despite the fact Alex couldn't see him, deciding that a verbal answer probably would be annoying in itself. 

The problem with silence was that it was a sure way to get Michael to spiral. He had discovered very recently that being alone when he wanted to be alone the most was the worst idea. Now, he didn't want to be alone as much as he wanted answers. Walking in silence down a street while wondering what was in Alex's bag, who Carla Holt was, why Alex was angry, etc, etc, etc, was only making his mind race.

By the time they stepped into the lobby of the hotel, Michael was sure that Alex had just borrowed a bomb from an old lady and he was going to explode himself and whoever Carla Holt was was going to hunt Michael down in revenge. He of course didn't say that. Instead, he tapped his foot as Alex requested a room with two queens and didn't realized that the worker snorted because he was assuming they were two queens until after they were already heading to the room. 

"Should I go spit in his drink?" Michael asked when he realized. 

"No," Alex said, "You'd probably make it taste too sweet."

Michael again found himself stumbling over nothing and he looked at Alex, wondering what the hell was he talking about. But it was the nicest thing he'd said to him the whole trip and Michael decided to take it very personally. 

"You sayin' I'm sweet?" Michael asked, grinning. A smile pulled at Alex's mouth that he very quickly schooled, slowing as he came to their room. 

"I'm saying your saliva, and probably your other bodily fluids, have a higher concentration of a glucose-like chemical," Alex said, "As proved by Kyle and Liz when we got drunk."

"You guys drunkenly tested our saliva's glucose levels?" Michael asked, laughing a little. Alex finally speaking to him made his brain stop wandering as much. Not completely–he was still wondering about that box–but enough.

"We were talking," Alex said, unlocking the door with the keycard, "And noticed we all thought you three tasted sweeter than other people we'd kissed and, well, you know. So we did some tests."

"That's... Interesting," Michael said, letting the door close behind them.

Alex walked over to the bed closest to the door and carefully sat his bag down. Michael watched him, staying near the door. He was still unsure about where they stood. He knew Alex cared about him and he knew Alex didn't hate him, but he was also still holding him at arm's length. And then there was that box. He didn't want to push.

But Michael wasn't known for his patience. 

"Alex," Michael said, "What's in that box?"

Alex swallowed and looked up at him for a moment before patting the bed beside him. An invitation. One that made Michael's stomach drop and twist in 11 knots. But he walked closer, sitting beside Alex. Alex stared at him, his features slowly loosening up to betray his feelings. His eyebrows pulled together in that kind of worry that meant he felt like he was drowning, scrambling to pull himself to the surface and never able to get a good grip. Which would explain the coldness, he supposed.

"You know you can trust me, right? I'm... I'm working on not being so self-destructive, and, like, knowing I'm helping you out kinda helps when I feel shitty," Michael said. Alex huffed a small laugh and shook his head, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment. When he looked Michael in the eye again, he was back to being serious. 

"I did something stupid," Alex said, softly like it was a secret, "I agreed to something without knowing what I was getting myself into. And I'm kind of stuck right now."

"Stuck? What do you mean stuck?" Michael said, following his lead and whispering.

"I'm figuring it out, alright? Don't worry. I'll tell you later," Alex said, reaching out to squeeze his arm before dropping it back to the bed, "And I checked before we even left that I wasn't bugged and I've kept my eye out to know that we aren't being followed. And my computer definitely isn't. We're good. They're tracking me, but only to the extent I'm letting them. It's okay." 

"That doesn't sound okay," Michael said.

"Trust me like I trust you, alright?" He said. Michael reluctantly nodded. "I need you to hold something for me."

Michael blinked. "The box."

"Yeah."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael asked. Alex smiled softly

"It's not a who, it's a what. It's a code from my mom's side of things. She knows more about the alien shit than she let on," Alex sighed, "I didn't stand a fucking chance not being involved with this shit. My dad, my mom, you. So, you know, if you ever feel bad about that, it's my fucking destiny." 

Michael swallowed and nodded, feeling more eager by the second to know what was in that box. Needed to keep hearing Alex say how fated they were to know each other. Needed Alex to touch his arm again and smile.

"Okay," Michael said, trying to stay in his own space, "So we're fated. Cosmic connection. Called it."

Alex broke into a wide smile, genuine and welcoming as he shoved Michael's shoulder gently. "Shut up."

"Show me," Michael said instead. Alex's smile faded just a little.

"Do me a favor and double check our surroundings," Alex said. Michael nodded and tilted his head, sending a chair to lodge itself under the doorknob and pressed the curtains tightly to the wall. His eyes slid closed as he did a mental sweep of the building, not noticing anything out of order. When he opened his eyes again, Alex seemed to be closer. "Thanks." 

"Show me." 

Alex sighed and nodded, hesitantly reaching into his bag and pulling out the box. It was clear now that it was made of really nice wood, intricate carvings covering it. Alex handled it with an extreme care that Corrie didn't have with it. His eyes flickered between the box and Michael a few dozen times before he hesitantly opened it and Michael leaned closer to see.

"It's just a ring," Michael said, almost disappointed. It looked like a normal, silver band that was old and unpolished after years of being tucked away. 

"Not just a ring," Alex said, he kept his fingers very precise as he picked it up. Michael didn't miss the way it seemed to ripple at his touch.

"Something alien," Michael acknowledged.

"Something alien," Alex confirmed, "Most of the glass and even the rocks that you've had so far all seem to be crafted and at least heavily altered by your people to be as useful as they are. This... This was passed down as a pure substance that was mined and cut into a wedding band to mimic human customs." Alex looked at him. "It pre-dates your mother landing here, Michael."

Michael let out a shaky breath, eager and hungry for knowledge for the first time in a long time. He'd poured over Tripp's journal over and over, poured over Caulfield and Project Shepard records, all of it painful and sickening with an unhappy ending. And now there was something new– old –that might actually give him something more. Proof that aliens were here before his mother, proof that there was a reason they came to Earth of all places. More secrets he craved to uncover. He missed the feeling. 

"It's powerful and, as far as I can tell, the last of it left. The rest was probably destroyed with your planet. But it's old and... and sentimental. One of the older women on the reservation told me the sentimentality powered it more. Because it's not just a ring that symbolizes love or a bond between two people, but it's a new start. Blending the past they chose to leave behind together with something new and different. Safer and secure. Together," Alex said. Michael swallowed, eyes unable to break away from Alex's. Alex cleared his throat and looked back down at it. "That's what she said anyway. There was probably two at one point, but I'm sure the other is lost to time."

"Yeah, okay. Okay," Michael said, agreeing without hesitation, "I'll take care of it and keep it safe."

He went to grab it, but Alex pulled it out of his reach.

"Michael," he said, "When I say it's powerful, I mean the moment you put it on, something's going to… happen."

Michael hadn't really intended to put it on, but it seemed Alex knew him well enough to know that eventually he would. 

"What kind of something?" 

"I don't know, Michael. I just know legend says it has unspeakable levels of power. So, please, be careful with it. I'd prefer you do it with someone around in case it overloads you or something," Alex said. Michael didn't point out what Isobel had before–he was the only one who didn't have a limit.

"Why not just put it on right now?" Michael said, "We're in the clear and you're here. Why not?" 

Alex breathed in and out, staring at him with that same worried, downing look. Michael selfishly enjoyed it for a few moments–enjoying that he cared that much. So he smirked and held out his left hand, feeling confident.

"Go ahead, Alex. Put a ring on it," he said. A smile pulled at Alex's lips that he fought, but he relaxed his shoulders and grabbed Michael's hand with his empty one.

Alex's hand was warm. Michael was sort of obsessed with the feeling of it. Why hadn't they been holding hands this entire time? 

"I'm right here, okay? So if you need me to take it off or if you feel like you're going to lose control, let me know. Try not to throw me," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

"I don't give a shit how much power I have injected into me, I'm not going to hurt you," Michael said. Alex raised an eyebrow. "Physically. Come on now, cut me some slack."

"Maybe," Alex said, putting the ring closer. Michael could feel it now that it was millimeters away from his skin, the power of it overwhelming. And Michael was intrigued. "Ready?"

"Always."

Alex slid the ring onto his ring finger.

The wave of power hit him instantly and, before he could adjust, sent him into a mindscape. Or–he thought it was. The room was damp and dark, unwelcoming. Michael looked around for something, someone, but he was alone. It was crowded with things, though, inventions and technological structures. It looked like his own lair but significantly less familiar, less comforting. 

“Michael?”

Michael turned towards the voice and saw Alex at the top of a ladder, staring down at him with a face that said he was doing everything to stay calm. He had red stains on his clothes. Michael stared at him, unsure what to do. Alex was down the ladder and centimeters away from him so quickly that it could only be achieved by him seeing something that wasn’t happening just yet.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Michael said, instinctually, “Where are we? What is this place?”

Alex looked around the room, his face betraying his pain before he met Michael’s eyes again. Then his hand was on Michael’s cheek with a warm and grounding presence. Michael’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.

“My research,” he sighed, “Half of it’s destroyed anyway. Let’s go.” Michael didn’t really think that sounded right. This didn’t feel like Alex’s space. He’d been in enough of Alex’s spaces before to know what they felt like. This wasn’t it.

“Your research?” he said. Alex gave him a look and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Stop that,” Michael said, his voice sounding more irritated than he meant. He could feel the anger in his body, but he didn’t know the source. “Stop not telling me things. You keep doing that. You need to tell me.”

“You’re right,” Alex agreed, swallowing, “But we need to get out of here. I swear I’ll tell you once we get in the car. But we need to get out of here.”

“You promise you’ll tell me in the car?” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“I promise.”

They were upstairs just as fast as Alex had been downstairs. Michael saw blood. He turned his head to find the source, but Alex’s hand was back on his neck to stop him.

“Don’t look. Let’s just go to the car.”

“What, you tryna baby me?” Michael asked, “You know I’ve seen some shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said, still leading him towards the door as his thumb dug slightly into the muscle on his neck, “Doesn’t mean I have to show you more.”

Michael sucked in a breath and he was thrown back into his body, the power from the ring still thrumming through him and teasing a possible second surge. It was old and unused and desperate to stretch out some of it's pent up energy.

Alex was there, staring at him and holding onto him. He was so close, so real, and so was that memory that was just in the opposite direction. Michael stared at him, taking him in.

"What happened?" Alex asked, hands squeezing his biceps. His hand started to slide up, but stopped at his shoulder. "Hey, you with me?" 

"Yeah," Michael said, "I'm okay."

"What happened?"

"I think, uh," Michael breathed, swallowing. His throat felt dry again. The heat of the hotel seemed to work with the heat inside him; he was on fire in the best way. "I got, like, That's So Raven'd."

Alex blinked a couple times, his thumb moving in slow circles against his collarbone not too far from where it’d been moments ago in his vision. Michael wanted to let his eyes roll back into his head and just sink into the bed with Alex beside him and let this undeniable strength course through him.

"You saw the future?" he said, "Like one of Maria's visions?" 

"I think so," Michael confirmed, "Only… mine wasn't of something bad. I mean, not really, anyway."

"What was it?" Alex asked. 

Michael licked his lips, studying Alex for a moment. The ring on his finger fit perfectly as if it was made for him. The power it gave settled nicely in him, pulsing and eager to be used just a little bit more, but in a childish, playful way. It wanted to stretch after too many years being cooped up.

"Hey, I'm going to try to see something else," Michael said. Alex's eyes went wide as saucers.

"What? Tell me what you saw the first time," Alex pressed, his hand shifting just enough to cup the side of his neck. Michael layered his hand over his, feeling bold and unperturbed. At some point, they were going to get there. He was sure of that more now than ever. 

And he wanted to see more.

" Michael ," Alex said, but Michael closed his eyes and breathed in, letting the power in the ring take him somewhere else.

And he was somewhere else. 

He was standing at the end of a driveway. He looked around and tried to grab some sort of identifier, but all he saw was a house behind him and then a school bus headed towards him. It stopped in front of him, a kid stepping off and running towards him with a backpack almost as big as she was. 

"Daddy!" the kid yelled and Michael tried his damnedest to act like he was meant to be here as the little body slammed against his legs for a welcoming hug. "Is Dad home yet? Can you tell him to get ice cream? I think we need ice cream."

"Oh, you think we need it?" Michael asked, walking with the kid towards the house. It felt natural, oddly enough. 

"Yes," the kid said simply, running towards the door. She threw it open and Michael laughed and jogged the rest of the way. He could hear her already telling a story about school and he was trying to stay close enough to follow.

He walked into a foyer, pictures lining the wall. Family portraits.

Him and Alex. The three of them.

When Michael came back to his senses, Alex was right there again and staring at him without faltering. The ring was still alive, but it was at a sated hum now that it had been used a few times. He wondered how it would feel doing something he understood. He couldn’t wait to try.

“Hey,” Alex said, soft and comforting as he welcomed his weight. The vision he had was definitely not what he was looking for, he wanted to know more about Alex’s research and why it all felt so wrong and where the hell they were, but the second one… 

“Hi,” Michael said, breathing and his eyes drifting down to his lips. Michael had experienced a lot of urges to kiss Alex before. Somehow this felt more dire.

“Please don’t do that again,” Alex said, “Maybe we should take it off.”

Michael shook his head carefully, eyes scanning him, “No, it feels fine now. It just needed to be used after being in a little box for decades. It’s good. Feels good.”

“Okay,” Alex said, still clearly hesitant. His fingers played with the hair at the back of Michael’s neck. There were two beds, but Michael was trying to figure out how to convince him to share one. They could fit. They’d shared smaller. “What’d you see?”

Michael breathed deep, wanting to get closer. He kept his hands to himself no matter how much he wanted to touch. He was being good. To get to where those visions said he was headed, he had to be good. Good for himself and Alex.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Michael said softly, “What are you researching? Who are you working with?”

Alex blinked once, twice before dropping his hand off of Michael. Which definitely hurt, but the fact that Alex didn’t move away definitely helped. 

“What did you see?” Alex asked again, more pressing, “I know you saw that I’m researching something.”

Michael shrugged. He technically did, but he didn’t see anything identifiable. He didn’t know what it was. He would like to. Then again, he’d always wanted to know everything about Alex Manes.

“I didn’t see what,” Michael said, “I just saw that someone’s going to fuck with it. I think. I don’t know, we were in this basement looking thing and it felt really off and, and not like you, but you said your stuff was in it. And you had blood on you and when we went upstairs, there was more blood. But you said not to look. I don’t know what you did or what happened, but, like, if you told me, maybe we can prevent it getting that extreme.”

Alex stared at him for a long moment. 

“You saw that both times?” Alex asked softly. Michael hesitated before shaking his head. “What else did you see, then?”

“Um,” Michael breathed, trying to think of the right words to say, “Uh. I don’t think, um…”

“ Michael.”

“Family portraits,” he said carefully, figuring that was easier to start with than a whole person who called them dad, “Like, ours. Um. I know we don’t belong in suburbia, but I guess we fucking get it anyway.”

He laughed. It wasn’t funny, but it was easier to say it like it was a joke. Alex looked at him, face confused.

“Suburbia? Like. White picket fence kinda thing?” Alex asked. Michael took a slow breath.

“I, uh, I didn’t see a fence, I was too focused on the‒” he stopped, licking his lips. Michael rubbed his thumb over the ring. It seemed to purr at the attention. Michael couldn’t wait to get back home and see what he could really do.

“On the what?” Alex prodded, reaching out to rest his hand on his leg and reigniting the contact. It felt so good. Michael really liked when he was touchy, it was his favorite thing about Alex.

“Um,” Michael breathed, feeling drunk off the attention and the ring all at once. He thought about lying, maybe that they were babysitting because that was close enough, but he was so tired of lies and half-truths and I’ll-tell-you-laters. “On the kid.”

Alex froze for a moment, “The kid?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, shrugging softly, “I, uh, I guess she was ours. She was calling us dad. Do we have any water? My throat is super dry.”

“I… I don’t think you’re seeing the future then, I’m never having kids. Do you realize how awful of a parent I would be? Awful. Neglectful. That’s not… And after I clearly fucking hurt people?”

“Maybe not,” Michael said, not about to argue right now. He was too busy feeling good. Alex kept his hand on his knee. “But whatever it was, it was good.”

Alex stared at him, quiet and clearly thinking things through. Michael let him. It was easier to give him space and time now. He’d gotten better at it before his visions, but they solidified to him that they were on a good path. It felt like they were making good choices and taking good steps. This was just a part of it.

Alex eventually took a deep breath, looked him in the eye.

“I’m gonna tell you what I’m doing, but you have to promise you’re going to stay out of it and trust me,” Alex said, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you’re gonna promise to be honest with me?” Alex said, “And stay safe. Like, seriously. Don’t be reckless just because. I know you.”

I know you.

“Yeah. I’m doing better now,” Michael said, stretching his hand out, “I am. But I’m… I’m tired of not doing shit together. Doing stuff separately always gets us in shitty situations, Alex, I wanna be a team. Can I be on your team?”

Alex swallowed and moved his hand up, tucking Michael’s hair behind his ear.

“Yeah. Be on my team. Let’s be a team,” Alex said. He shifted and Michael waited patiently, watching him. “Okay, so. Deep Sky. It’s… it’s got some good people, I think, but it’s overall fucked. I don’t trust anyone in there, but it’s where I’m doing my research. Sort of. So I’ll tell you.”

It almost felt too good to be true to hear, but he didn’t need the ring to know that Alex was being honest. It showed him anyway. Truthfulness radiated off of him in vibrant blues and whites. He didn’t even need to get in his mindscape to be sure of it. It was strange to feel like that was unnecessary, like his body didn’t need confirmation because it already knew.  It didn’t feel like he was stepping off a ledge. He hoped Alex had the same confidence, wondered what would happen if he put the ring on him.

If Alex still felt like he was stepping off the ledge, he was going to be sure to catch every inch of him this time. No piece would hit the ground like all the times before.

He was going to make this work.

“Everything?” 

“Everything.”

[spencers-renaissance]

this heavy humanness

Summary: Spencer leaves the oven on overnight, and Derek - whose pent-up emotions get the best of him - loses it, exposing secrets neither of them expected to be spilled, for two very different reasons. They get there in the end.

or; Spencer's suffered far too much abuse in his life and Derek knew about none of it. He shouldn't have found out like this.

Tags: est. rel., past abuse, arguing & making up, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, hurt spencer TW: implied/referenced - child abuse, abuse & csa. trauma response that could be perceived as dissociation. misplaced frustration at neurodivergence. nothing graphic but message me for more info if needed.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This fills the "Domestic Violence" square of my Bad Things Happen Bingo. It's a heavy one folks so please heed the tags, but fear not, as always we have a happy ending ahead of us! <3 Title by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Spencer knows it’s ridiculous. Derek will not hurt him: this much he knows for certain. Derek is safe, he is home, he is his person. Derek would die before laying a hand on him.

This objective knowledge does not stop the fear from building in his chest, fizzling through his veins until his whole body is alight with it, simmering under the surface of his cold skin as Derek shouts, his face contorted in anger. Spencer might know that Derek won’t hurt him, but that doesn’t mean he can forget what’s happened in the past when he’s put that same expression on crueller people’s faces.

“How could you be so irresponsible, Spencer?”

He doesn’t know. The sinking feeling of failure, of disappointing someone he loves so much settles deep in his stomach as he watches Derek pace up and down the living room while he stays firmly planted on the sofa, pressed as far into the corner as he can.

He didn’t mean to leave the oven on overnight. Again. It’s just that sometimes he gets so lost in his head, in the studies he reads just before bed that getting ready for bed happens on auto-pilot, and small things like turning the oven off slip through the cracks. Derek’s never got this angry over it before, but that’s probably because he’s never said “yes” when Derek’s sleepily asked him if he remembered to turn it off, not when he actually didn’t.

He answered on auto-pilot. He didn’t mean to lie, but that doesn’t seem to matter that much to Derek as he wears down the living room carpet with his pacing, visibly seething. He tracks him with his eyes. He can’t afford to not see the blow coming.

The blow isn’t coming, he tries to tell himself. It’s not all that convincing when Derek stops mid-pace, turning to look at him dead in the eye.

“We could’ve died, Spencer! Does that mean nothing to you?”

Spencer doesn’t reply. He wants to, he really does, but the words are stuck in his throat, choked by fear and confusion and emotion and regret, God why didn’t I turn off the oven, I should’ve been better, it’s all my fault—

“Do you seriously not have anything to say?”

Spencer stares. He has so much to say. All of it is trapped in his throat, tangled in a mess of please don’t leave me and please god don’t hit me.

“You know, I can’t deal with this right now,” Derek mutters, throwing his hands up in the air, “this is unbelievable.” Spencer watches as he shrugs a coat over his shoulders, pulls on his shoes, pauses only to grab his wallet and keys, and walks out the door without looking back.

The door slams behind him and Spencer jumps at the loud noise, jolting out of his fear-ridden stupor, wincing as he’s forced out of his head and thrust back into reality. It’s only ten past ten in the morning; a nice, sunny Saturday in late Spring, and maybe in a different universe, Spencer and Derek are packing a wicker basket with a picnic, heading off to their favourite park to feed each other strawberries and enjoy jam-filled sandwiches.

In this universe, though, Spencer drags his heavy bones to the bathroom, and peels off his clothes. He feels weighed down, tied to some point of gravity far below his feet as he avoids the mirror at all costs and lets his pajamas lay where they fall instead of gathering them into a ball and throwing them into the hamper like he usually does. He turns the water on and steps under the spray, allowing himself to revel in the warm rivulets of water caressing his cold skin.

Shampoo bottles stand untouched in the caddy to his left. He’s not there to get clean, he’s there to forget and to think all at the same time. Slowly, he sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall as the water cascades down his front, but not before he turns the heat up. It’s a small comfort: the water just on the right side of too hot running down his face and his torso and his legs, pooling at his feet momentarily before sliding down the drain, never to be seen by him again.

Today shouldn’t have started like this, and it’s a hard pill to swallow that if he hadn’t left the oven on, it wouldn’t have. Derek would have smiled when Spencer stepped into the kitchen, pulled him into his arms and kissed him gently before making them pancakes while Spencer sat on the counter-top and told him everything running through his head. Derek would listen, enthralled, whether to the sound of Spencer’s voice or the words he’s saying, and he wouldn’t shut him up, not even when they sat down to eat.

They’d finally get ready for the day late in the morning, they’d decide what they would do that day, and they’d make a point to steal as many kisses as they could; making up for the affection lost during long cases.

Spencer knows this because it’s happened so many times before. They may have only been dating for just over six months, but they already live together, having fallen hard and fast; Emily teases them for it, calls them her favourite lesbian couple, and they don’t care because they’re in love.

Despite that, though, Spencer still hasn’t told Derek.

There are nights he lies awake pondering how unfair that is. He’s held Derek as he sobbed over memories of Buford, as he spilled every awful detail of the abuse he endured; he’s comforted him after he’d tried and failed to bottom, falling into a flashback every time, no matter how much he wanted to try it.

But Spencer stays silent. He doesn’t tell him about his dad beating him, or his mom getting confused off her meds and smacking him, shoving him, even punching him that one time. He doesn’t tell him about Matthew, his first real boyfriend, trapping him in an abusive relationship that took him months to get the courage to leave. About how when a third person hurt him, he began to wonder whether it really was his fault. Whether that was the only kind of love Spencer Reid deserved.

He stays silent now, staring at the shower wall. The fear has left him now the threat has too, and a cold type of numbness replaces it, and even once the water runs cold, he doesn’t leave. He traces the same four tiles with his eyes, drawing the same pattern with his gaze over and over again as his thoughts turn to an endless cycle of he’ll leave me, he’ll stay, he’ll hit me, he won’t, until he’s not really sure what he believes.

Derek is a good man, but Spencer knows how he can be. He messes up, he forgets things, he doesn’t read situations right, he doesn’t behave the way people think he should, he doesn’t think like a neuro-typical person does. And a good man can only put up with that for so long.

The proof is in the pudding, after all. Derek has always been understanding of things like this in the past. He’s given him a hug and told him not to worry about it, that mistakes happen, and no one can be expected to remember small things like this all the time. But this morning, he was furious. Spencer’s not sure he’s ever seen him so angry in all his years of knowing him, and it was directed at him. All because of an oven left on.

Eventually, a sound from the upstairs apartment drags him from his head again, and he’s suddenly aware of the cold water, of the way his body is trembling and his fingers are pruning. He pulls himself out of the shower, turning the water off, but he stands in the middle of the bathroom, aimlessly, for a long time. By the time he finally has the sense to wrap a towel around his body, he’s basically dripped dry. His hair is soaking wet and the dripping water is freezing, but he doesn’t have the energy to find a towel for his head, too, so he leaves it.

He walks towards the bedroom and climbs into bed, pulling the fluffy duvet over his damp skin and laying his wet hair on the pillow. It feels awful, being wet and damp under the dry bedding, but he doesn’t have the energy to move, so he stays there, towel still wrapped around his legs, hair still soaking the pillow, and he stares at the wall.

He doesn’t know what time it is, and he doesn’t know when Derek will come back home. If he ever will.

⭐️

Derek slams the door behind him as he storms out of the apartment, rage consuming his every move, his every thought. The force of it rattles the door frame, echoing down the empty corridor, but he can’t find it in him to care as he marches towards the elevator. The buttons are pressed with perhaps a little more aggression than socially acceptable, but the woman already on board takes one look at his face and has the sense to stay quiet.

He gets in his car and steps on the gas, the squeal of his tyres against the floor of the garage as he speeds out satisfying him more than it probably should. His jaw is locked and tight as he drives through the streets of DC, his thoughts going a million miles an hour, quieted only when he turns the radio up loud, a blasting soundtrack to his ferocious getaway.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he speeds down the highway, heading out of the city towards Baltimore. He doesn’t have a destination in mind: he’s just driving straight. Straight away from the apartment. Away from Spencer.

It’s after more than an hour of driving that his jaw finally loosens and the anger that had simmered in his blood so fiercely fades into reluctant rationality. He’s somewhere in the middle of Baltimore, and the traffic — the tangled road system he actually has to focus on — drags him from the absent headspace the highway had allowed him to slip into.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and turns off the road he’s on, onto a quieter one. As soon as he’s able to pull over, he does, and he hits the steering wheel angrily. “Fuck!” He leans forward, pulling off his sunglasses and burying his head in his hands. It’s not the same kind of anger he’d felt earlier, no. This time it’s directed purely at himself, fuelled by dismal regret.

Before he can stop it, his brain replays the fight with Spencer over and over, the wall he’d put up to block it out crumbling down as images of his boyfriend flood his mind. He hadn’t registered it in the moment, but looking back, God. There was something on Spencer’s face, something so broken, so scared and he feels nauseous at the realisation that he put that there.

Over something as fucking stupid as an oven.

Truthfully, he wasn’t really angry at Spencer. Waking up to see the oven left on again, even after Spencer promised he’d turned it off, was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He’d fought with both his mom and Penelope yesterday, and he went to bed feeling like an utter failure, made even worse when Spencer had declined to join him, deciding instead to keep reading the series of papers he’d started earlier that evening. He woke up in a foul mood, and not even the sight of his peacefully sleeping boyfriend could make him feel better.

It’s his own fault. He should have communicated with Spencer: he should’ve told him about letting his mom down and saying the worst thing he possibly could have in his conversation with Penelope, but he didn’t. He silently stewed, and felt irrationally angry that Spencer wasn’t reading his mind. He knows for an absolute fact that if he’d asked Spencer to join him in bed last night, he would’ve dropped his studies immediately, and cuddled him until he felt better.

But he didn’t. And then he’d screamed at Spencer, in a way he never has before, over something he simply forgot to do. Derek swore to himself that he would never shout at or put Spencer down for his neurodivergent traits. Not in the way he’s seen so many people — regrettably, far too many of them on their own team — do before.

He’s always been understanding in the past, kissed Spencer’s hair and promised that it wasn’t a big deal, and he has always meant it. Because as dramatic as he’d been this morning, leaving the oven on wasn’t really the end of the world. He remembers ranting about the electricity bill, about how they were going to afford the house they were going to buy if he kept this up, about lying to him — even though he knew that was clearly an auto-pilot thing — about how dangerous it was. It’s a fan oven. They were never really in any danger.

What a god-awful way to let off the steam he’d built up and chosen not to let go.

As if he’s not already feeling shitty enough, though, his mind won’t stop circling back to the fear on Spencer’s face. The way he shouted back, but instead crammed himself into the corner of the sofa, never taking his eyes off him as he paced angrily back and forth.

He feels sick.

He digs his phone from the pocket in his sweatpants. He’s still in the clothes he sleepily pulled on in the dark this morning, and he hadn’t thought to bring his phone out with him, but luckily he’d picked it up off the kitchen counter that morning.

He clicks on Spencer’s name, listens to it ringing out as he desperately begs him to pick up. “Come on, baby, please,” he whispers, ignoring the tears burning behind his eyes. “Pick up, please.” He tries three more times before throwing it angrily on the seat next to him, allowing one more second of feeling the blind panic and the fury at himself before forcing himself to calm down.

Reaching over to his phone with one hand to turn the ringer up, he turns the ignition on and pulls back onto the road, heading back towards DC.

The traffic infuriates him, cursing as it takes thirty minutes to get back on the highway, but finally he’s back on the open road. It takes everything in him not to speed past the other cars, knowing that getting pulled over would only slow him down in the long run. He doesn’t turn the radio on. He just replays the fight again and again, each time remembering something new: something he said or something Spencer did.

He doesn’t wipe the tears away as they fall, lets them slide uncomfortably down his neck, under his collar, lets them drip into his lap, lets his nose run. It’s the only punishment he can afford himself right now.

Finally, finally, he pulls into their apartment building’s garage, finding their spot and parking roughly, abandoning the car as quickly as possible in favour of sprinting towards the elevator. He curses at the slow moving carriage, but it eventually spits him out on his floor, and he’s walking down the very corridor he stormed down just a few hours prior.

He pushes open the door to their apartment, closing it behind him softly. Suddenly, the nausea swimming in his gut isn’t just borne from regret, now fuelled by nerves and dreaded anticipation.

“Spence?” he calls softly.

He doesn’t know what to expect: he doesn’t know whether Spencer will be sad or angry, whether he’ll be screaming or crying. The kitchen and living room are empty, and the bathroom door is wide open, so he ventures into their bedroom.

Whatever he was expecting, it isn’t this.

Spencer’s tucked up in bed, duvet pulled up to his neck, facing away from the door. He doesn’t move so Derek thinks he might be sleeping, but when he circles the bed to check, he finds his eyes wide open, staring vacantly at a fixed point on the wall. They don’t flicker or blink or move when he steps into his field of vision, and Derek’s heart sinks, panic beginning to grip his chest.

“Spencer? Baby?”

When he still doesn’t move, Derek crawls onto the bed, and the movement or the sound or something must finally catch his attention, because all of a sudden his eyes are widening — in shock, surprise, fear, Derek doesn’t know — and he’s shifting under the covers.

“You’re back,” he says, and it’s so uneasy that Derek wants to cry.

“Yeah, baby, I’m back,” he says gently, “and I’m so sorry about earlier, I—”

He cuts himself off, because when he reaches to tangle his fingers in Spencer’s damp hair, he flinches. His hand freezes, but his stomach twists, because this is the confirmation he was both expecting and dreading. This is the confirmation of everything he prayed he had wrong, everything he wished he’d misinterpreted the whole drive home.

“Spence,” he whispers brokenly, withdrawing his hand, “I would never— never do… I’d never hurt you, God, I—”

A choked sob cuts him off this time, and another follows when he sees a tear sliding down Spencer’s face. A previously blank, emotionless canvas, his face is now full of sadness, tinged with the fear and guilt Derek hates himself for even suggesting was warranted in the first place.

“Derek,” he says softly, and his voice is so mangled with emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher, it breaks his heart a little. He doesn’t say anything more though, eyes sliding shut instead as tears continue to stream down his face.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. “Anything, I— anything you need, you can have, Spence, I’d give you the world, you know that.”

Spencer’s quiet for a long time, and Derek sits there on the bed anxiously awaiting a response while trying to summon all the patience he doesn’t have as he stares at Spencer’s crying face.

“A hug,” he decides eventually, and Derek almost collapses in relief because, God, he can do that.

He crosses the small space between them, and carefully folds Spencer into a hug, sighing in relief as he melts into Derek’s side, placing his head on his chest and cuddling into him. Their legs tangle together and Derek holds him as gently and as closely as he can, carding his fingers through Spencer’s damp curls while his other hand rests on his waist, his thumb caressing the bare skin there.

He’s still in his towel, he thinks sadly. He didn’t have the energy to properly dry himself before crawling into bed. As if Derek could possibly feel shittier.

They lay like that quietly for a while before Spencer finally speaks. Derek wishes he hadn’t. The words “I’m sorry”, uttered so brokenly, so miserably, have no business leaving Spencer’s mouth.

“Baby, you have nothing to apologise for,” he says fiercely. “This is all on me. I’m sorry. Sorrier than I’ve ever been, Spencer, because this is completely my fault. I wasn’t actually angry at you, that’s the first thing you need to know, and I know that makes what I did so shitty, because you hadn’t even done anything wrong, but I was so pent up and frustrated with myself and I didn’t communicate that with you and— fuck, I’m doing such a bad job of explaining, I just. I need you to know, Spencer, that I’m not angry, okay? And I’m so sorry for losing it like I did, that never should have happened.”

He pauses and takes a breath in, burying his face in Spencer’s hair as he holds him even tighter, trying to keep his grip as gentle as possible.

“I never told you,” Spencer whispers after a couple beats pass.

Derek’s heart seizes tightly and he swallows. Prepares himself. “Never told me what, sweetheart?”

“My dad, he… he wasn’t a good man and he… you know, he hurt me a lot. And then my mom, when he left and she stopped taking her meds completely, she’d get so confused,” Spencer admits, voice so quiet as he murmurs into Derek’s chest that he has to strain to hear him. “She didn’t mean to, but she’d… And then my last boyfriend, he—”

He cuts himself off as a heaving sob that seems to come out of nowhere strangles his words and it’s all Derek can do to hold him tightly as Spencer cries, whispering every reassurance he can think of through his own tears. It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks. I shouldn’t know this just because of an argument we had; just because I lost control. Spencer should’ve been able to tell me on his own terms, in his own time.

He tries to cry as silently as possible, but it’s not easy when the grief of knowing the pain Spencer’s suffered in his life is weighing heavy on his chest, and the acidic taste of guilt abounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Spencer’s hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He’s sorry for so many things he’s not sure he could list them all out, neatly and coherently, if he tried.

Spencer fists his hands in the soft cotton of Derek’s t-shirt. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

Derek balks at the guilt in his tone, as if he actually believes he has anything to apologise for. “Baby, you could’ve waited until we were old and grey to tell me and I wouldn’t be mad, okay? Trauma like this… it comes out in it’s own way in it’s own time. I’m not sure how or when I would’ve told you about Buford if everyone hadn’t found out the way they did. And if I’d waited to tell you, you wouldn’t be mad at me, would you?”

Spencer shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry that I triggered you the way I did, Spencer,” Derek says seriously, gently twirling a loose curl around his fingers. “It was inexcusable, and it was a problem of my own making. I know you didn’t mean to leave the oven on and I know you were operating on auto-pilot when you told me you turned it off last night, and nothing I said was true. I was mad about stuff that happened yesterday and I failed to communicate that. It’s all on me. Nothing about this is your fault, you hear me?”

“Really?”

The way Spencer cranes his neck to look up at him, the trusting innocence in his eyes both breaking and warming Derek’s heart. “Really.”

“I want to tell you, Der, it’s just—” He sighs. “I’ve never talked about it with anyone, and it’s hard. I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

“We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, baby. You can tell me everything all at once, or drop tiny pieces of information when you feel like it, or never tell me anything else ever again, and any of that is perfectly okay. I just need you to know that what happened this morning will never happen again, okay? I promise you.”

Spencer shifts, moving from his position curled around Derek to prop himself up with one arm, facing his boyfriend properly. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, before leaning down to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. More than anything.” He kisses him again before moving the duvet and making to get up. “Now, how about I order us some pizza for lunch and we spend the afternoon in bed. You can read or we can watch some documentaries or a movie, whatever you want.”

A small smile crosses Spencer’s face, and nothing’s ever felt more like a win.

“I think that sounds like a plan.”

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @moreidtrash @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @enbyspencer @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby

[mickeyhenrysgf]

Same Old Mistakes

Summary: Lee Bodecker is jealous of your new relationship with Arvin Russell

Pairings: Modern Day! Arvin Russell x reader, Modern Day! Lee Bodecker x reader

Warnings: manipulation, age gap (reader is in college 20), cheating , dub con, unprotected sex, degrading language, dark themes, please don’t read if you’re not 18+ or these warnings make you uncomfortable.

Author’s note: this is kind of a sequel to my other one shot Party Favors from my old account. You don’t really have to read it though to understand. Anyways, someone commented the reader should fuck Arvin & well I put my own twist on it because I love Lee way too much.

It’s been a month since Sheriff Bodecker was called to stop your party. You wished you could erase the memories from the night. Lee always had a soft spot for you but you took his kindness for granted.

In exchange for not getting turned in for your noise complaint, you had to get on your knees for the Sheriff. To think the sheriff would even care about you or even your pleasures was a silly idea. He cares about one thing and one thing only. Controlling everyone in the town. But, that was a month ago. You stayed clear from misconduct, you didn’t want to see his face ever again.

Now, you were somewhat happy. You were finally interested in someone around your age. His name was Arvin Russell. Everyday after class, he waited for you in his old beat up truck. Arvin didn’t go to college but you didn’t mind. He had small jobs here and there where he would even save some of his money to buy you small things. It was his way of showing that he really liked you. Maybe, you could see yourself falling for him...

“Got your s’ favorite” Arvin announced in his Southern accent that you loved. He had a cheeky smile as he took out a sandwich from his metal lunchbox. A new meal was always waiting for you after class.

You smiled brightly, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Arvin pouted softly as he pointed to his lips and you chuckled giving him a kiss on the lips which he rightly deserved.

“You’re the best, Arvin!” you pressed another kiss to his nose. A tint of red started to cover his ears. He truly was one of the sweetest boys you met in town. You cherished it.

But, he wasn’t just sweet. He also knew how to woo a girl in bed...

“Holy fuck—!” You moaned, your eyes rolled back as Arvin pounded into you. The headboard colliding with the wall with every thrust. Arvin had a smirk plastered on his face. This was his favorite thing to do. Pleasure you.

“atta girl... doing so good for me...” he mumbled against your lips, his thumb swiping against your clit as his hips rutted into you. He grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders creating a even more pleasurable experience.

“You close, my pretty girl—? Gunna cum for me, yeah?” Your hands pulled onto his locks and your mouth widened without a sound signaling your release as Arvin grunted heavily. With a few more thrusts, he emptied himself in the condom and pulled out of you, collapsing onto the bed. The condom thrown into the nearby trash can.

He pulled your sweaty body onto his, he watched as you panted against his chest. His heart swelled from the effect you had on him.

“I want you to be my girl for real...” he finally whispered softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. You looked up at him.

“Like— your girlfriend?”

“Mmhm—“ he mumbled and you smiled brightly, leaning forward and kissing him deeply.

As Lee Bodecker parked his car at the gas station, he saw a couple in a car not too far from where he was. The two shadows talked for a moment before they kissed each other on the nose. He couldn’t quite make out who they were but he figured it was young love. He rolled his eyes, until he noticed something. His eyes squinted and he moved his seat up, until his belly pressed against the wheel. It was you.

“Here, get yourself something. We still got a few hours left.” Arvin insisted handing you money.

“Baby... I can buy it on my own, it’s fine” you protested pushing his hand away slightly. He shook his head.

“Please. I don’t mind... how about you order us two hot sandwiches, so then you don’t feel so bad” you sighed heavily, looking down at the money in his hand.

“Fine but this is the last time, babe.”

Arvin hushed you softly, settling the money in your palm. He kissed the bridge of your nose and then your lips. The act itself warming you from within.

“I gotta pump the gas and fill the tires which is going take a while. See you in 15. Now go on.” You nodded and settled out of the car, walking into the convenient store.

You looked around the store. Arvin did say you would be on the road for some time. Everything looked good but you really didn’t want to waste all of his money. As you continued to look, the store doorbell rung signaling a new costumer had arrived.

Lee Bodecker walked into the store with a new sense of confidence. The girl who had been ignoring him for weeks had finally crossed paths with him again. He tilted his hat at the store manager before he walked towards you.

He found himself sliding into the same aisle where you were in. You were two busy bending down and looking at different flavors of chips to notice his presence behind you. His eyes roamed your backside and he bit his lip at the curve of your ass. If only he could push himself right against it.

You turned around to head into the next aisle but you collided into a taller figure. The chips in your hand fell onto the ground. You quickly scrambled to pick them up but a hand stopped you.

“No need Y/N... the pleasure is mine” you could recognize the accent from miles away.

Your heart practically stopped as you stood up to meet eyes with Lee who casually winked at you. That was the problem with the sheriff. He sweet talked you, then used you, and then did it all over again.

“I haven’t seen you in forever. Seems like you are doing everything in your power to not get into trouble...” he chuckled darkly, his eyes stayed on yours.

“Uh- yeah. I guess you can say that. Trouble is just not my thing anymore” you shrugged, looking around the store trying your best to ignore him.

Other customers continued to shop. They didn’t mind the presence of the sheriff.

“I bet.” Lee continued.

“You know... we never talked about that night between us.” You stopped in your tracks as Lee said those words. Memories from a month ago rushing back.

“Shit, you move on quick. Already sucking another man’s cock, huh?” He bended slightly to whisper in your ear just enough for you to hear. His lips grazed against your ear ever so slightly which made you shudder.

You quickly stepped away from him. Your relationship with Arvin was fairly new. He couldn’t have possibly known.

“What are you talking about?!”

“I saw you and Arvin in the car just now” He placed his hands on his hips.

“Congratulations... but he’s uh- a handful” Lee joked, his jaw clenching. You turned on your heel but Lee grabbed your arm tightly. Almost to the point of a potential bruise.

“Lee, stop. You’re hurting me...” you sneered through your teeth. He looked around the store before he grabbed you to the back and pulled you into the store’s bathroom, quickly locking the two of you in there.

“Lee-! You can’t just-! I have to go to back to Arvin!” You pushed his slightly protruding belly, trying to make your way to the door but he pulled you back.

“First off, it’s sheriff to you now. And second of all you don’t leave until I’m done talking to you. Or we can have a repeat from the party. You hear me?” He threatened, his eyes much darker from when he first greeted you.

You gulped lightly, throwing your hands to the side. Protesting wouldn’t get you anywhere. Just let him talk and you’ll be within Arvin’s arms in a few.

“Did you tell him about us?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“What? No. Why would I do that?” Lee laughed softly, taking off his sheriff’s hat and running his fingers through his hands.

There was nothing to tell Arvin. But, Lee thought otherwise. He pushed you back against the wall, as you stared up at him.

“Because if I was him, I would want to know that my girl goes around sucking the sheriff’s dick and then begs him to fuck her”

“T-that was one time... and it was the p-past...” his words hit you one after the other. He was shaming you for an act he manipulated you into doing. Tears started to prickle at the corner of your eyes.

You were a good person. You deserved Arvin. Lee just loved playing the role of the knight in shining armor who pretended to fix your bad behavior every single time.

“Just the past” he repeated with an uncertainty in his voice. His thumb pressed against your lips like old times but you turned your head.

He rolled his eyes at your actions.

“You were such a bad girl. But, who always left you off with a warning? Hmmm? Any other sheriff would have thrown you in the back of the cop car, while you wait for mommy and daddy to pick you up!”

His hands roamed your body as he continued to speak.

“You avoided me for a whole month because you knew you wanted me and you were afraid” he sighed heavily, glaring at you.

Maybe. He was right. But you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet at least.

“Arvin... really, Y/N?” Lee sighed, pushing away from you in disbelief.

“I like him, Sheriff. He’s a good person. He treats me right. He actually likes me and takes care of me!” You pleaded as your eyes followed him as he paced along the small bathroom.

A tear slipped against your cheek. The doorknob was so close, you could make a run if you were fast enough.

“Do you love him?” He questioned, a hint of jealousy present in his tone.

“I-I don’t know...” Lee turned around and placed himself back on you.

“I can make you feel so much better than he can...” his nose pressed against your neck, as his hands grabbed your waist.

The attraction you had for Lee was still here. It almost made you feel sick inside. If he really cared for you, he wouldn’t do this. But, his words were messing with you. A voice in your head even tried to convince you to listen to him.

“Y/N, let me show what I should have done on the night of the Halloween party” his lips ghosted over yours and pressed onto you softly. He deepened the kiss and you allowed it at first.

Lee Bodecker was finally kissing you. Something you craved for the longest. But, it felt wrong. You struggled and pushed him away.

“Stop—!” You were out of breath as you took a beeline towards the door but Lee grabbed your hair and yanked you back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!” He barked, and you winced in pain at his grip. When he heard your whine, he reluctantly let go but kept his arm around your body.

“I’m in a r-relationship, sheriff!” You stammered, scared to even look him in the eyes. Lee tilted your chin up, his eyes now softer. He had to think of his next actions carefully.

He was playing his favorite game on you.

“God, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I got carried away” his arms cradled you in his embrace. His lips kissed your temple. His manners switched instantly. He knew playing the role of the bad wolf wouldn’t win you over.

“I care for you so much, darlin’ and Arvin... he’s not the one for you. He’s done a lot of bad things” Lee said softly, his thumb wiped your tears and cupped your face. If you were going to believe anything, you’d believe Lee & his job.

You raised an eyebrow. Arvin never expressed his wrongdoings. Yeah, he beat up a few bullies from school but they deserved it. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so uncomfortable in Lee’s embrace. Lee noticed this as your posture softened.

This was his chance.

“Really? Like what?”

“Oh, darlin’ if I tell ya— you’ll be scared of the poor boy. I don’t want that.” He informed, his lips pressed against your forehead again.

He was reeling you in with every word. This time you actually felt butterflies in your stomach.

If Arvin was a bad man, as the sheriff explained, then maybe Lee was actually protecting you.

“Please, sheriff... Please, tell me—” His eyes widened at your pleas. Something in him awakened. His cock stirred in his pants, a hard on soon to form. You sounded like an angel to him. He wished you would beg some more.

“You really wanna know—“ he teased, his hands falling to your sides, down your back, and right before your ass. You nodded, pushing into him some more. He bit his lip, his cock straining against his trousers.

“Well, he’s good with his Luger pistol, I’ll tell you that—“ he half joked. Lee tested the waters and suddenly put his hands on your ass. To his surprise, you didn’t move away. It’s not like you didn’t feel his hands either. You were just too busy, caught up in wanting to know more. But, it also did feel good, which you didn’t dare to admit.

He wanted to just bend you over the bathroom sink and have his way already. Just a few more lines and he’d be there.

“Remember that pastor in town who passed away a while ago—“

You nodded recollecting the only town’s gossip. You never went to church, but you remembered hearing the death on the television. It was one of the only major events that happened in Knockemstiff. Lee’s hands squeezed your ass softly and then wandered up your shirt.

“W-what does the pastor have to with a-anything?” You mumbled, holding in your moans at Lee’s actions. His hands cupped your covered breasts and began to grope them. In one swift movement, your bra was off and Lee was pinching your nipples. You gasped, arching yourself towards him.

“Shhh... getting to the best part. Just listen.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses against your neck and you finally moaned. Victory. Lee even started to get carried away and grinded against you.

You knew how wrong this was. It was overwhelming. If Arvin ever found out what was taking place, he’d leave you. This had to stay a secret.

“You’re taking too long!” you whined, feeling the sheriff’s hands and body engulf you. Although it was turning you on, you had to get back to Arvin.

“What did I just say? Don’t rush me” he bellowed, as he shoved two fingers in your mouth. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. He’s done this before at the night of the party. You played along with him and swirled your tongue around his digits.

You just needed to know what Arvin did. You had to see if he was worth it. But, you were surely testing Lee’s patience. He needed your pussy now.

“Turns out your precious boyfriend was a part of the murder...” he popped his fingers out your mouth, already undoing your jeans and pushing them down. He pushed your panties to the side and rubbed your clit with his soaked fingers. You bit your lip, throwing your head back and Lee chuckled at your body’s response. He turned your body around, the two of you now looking into the mirror.

“What?”

“Your little boyfriend killed the pastor.” Lee’s eyes studied yours as they widened through mirror. He nodded, moving your hair away from your neck. His fingers danced against the skin, goosebumps forming.

“T-that can’t be true-“ you murmured, as Lee began to place sloppy wet kisses over your exposed skin.

Arvin Russell was a good man. If he killed someone, there had to be a good reason.

One thing Lee was good at was creating his own version of the truth.

Your thoughts were clouded from Lee’s actions. It was all too much, but you couldn’t push away from Lee even if you wanted to.

“Well, start believing darlin’— you need a real man. Someone who is gunna take care of ya— That boy just gunna mess with your damn head...” The next thing you heard was the sound of the sheriff’s belt being unbuckled and his pants dropping. You sucked in a breath, already knowing what would happen next. There was no need to turn around.

“You’re not gunna run away now, are you?” He teased, as his cock ran through your folds, collecting your wetness. You gasped lightly biting down on your lip, shaking your head.

“That’s a good girl. Now, hold on, sheriff’s gunna make you feel real good.” He smirked motioning you to hold onto the sink as he slowly entered you. Your hands tightened around the sink as you moaned at how thick he was.

“Fuck!” You both announced as Lee fully bottomed out holding onto your hips. His thrusts quickly falling into a steady pace, as he pulled your hair back.

“So tight and wet-! Whose this pussy belong to huh?” His hand fell onto your right cheek, and then your left, until it made a type of red shade. It was the right amount of pain and pleasure.

You wanted to say his name but your mind kept drifting to Arvin. He was probably worried sick. 15 minutes definitely had already passed.

Lee scoffed as if he somehow could read your thoughts. His thrusts became deeper and rougher, his hand wrapping around your throat.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question!” Lee spat, his voice was deeper, almost animalistic.

“My cock is in this dirty cunt—! Not him!” Before you could reply he slapped your ass with a stronger force.

“It belongs to you!” you whimpered, tears falling from your eyes. He groaned, his lips sucking and licking against your neck. He was close but he wanted you to cum with him. His fingers once again giving your clit attention which was a little too harsh.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, slowly but surely the only one on your mind was Lee and how good his cock felt around you.

“God, I’m going to make you my little whore. Your pretty face and cunt stuffed with my cock whenever I like, say yes” He grunted, his fingers digging into your hips and to his surprise you wiggled your ass against him. Even clenched around him. You were too lost in the ecstasy. He’s got you now.

“Yes—! Yes, I’ll be your whore!” you practically begged, humiliated by your words but it felt too good.

“Going to fill this cunt up now— and tomorrow and the day after that. You’ll love it.“ he grunted through his teeth.

“Please—!” You moaned, the only sounds consisted of heavy panting and his cock pounding in and out of you. The mirror already fogged.

“Cum with me!” He groaned, his final thrust helping you reach your orgasm. Moments later, Lee was stilling inside you and painting your walls which felt like forever, some of his cum seeping down your thighs.

He leaned over and wiped down the mirror. Your appearance was much messier from when you got there. Tear stained cheeks, make up ruined, & messy hair. You looked horrible but to Lee you looked like a doll. The sight already making his cock hard again.

He turned you around and lifted you up on the sink. “Mine” he observed, the coldness from the sink made you wince. Lee propped your mouth open and spat inside.

“Swallow.” And you gladly did as he pulled you into a forceful kiss, teeth and tongue clashing. His hands played with your breasts as the two of you moaned in pleasure.

He officially ruined you... and claimed you.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked one final time as he broke the sloppy kiss, saliva disconnecting from yours and his mouth.

“You... sheriff.” He nodded proudly, grabbing his boxers and trousers from the floor, and dressed himself. He picked up your panties and stuffed them into his pocket. You began to protest but he hushed you.

“You’ll get these back after you leave him... Don’t keep me waiting, honey.” Lee announced sternly, kissing you again and then leaving you alone in the bathroom.

Your propped yourself off the sink, your legs shakily going over to grab your jeans to put them on quickly. You splashed some water on your face but it didn’t change anything. Your hair covered your new forming hickies but it couldn’t take away your post sex look.

You nervously opened the bathroom door and walked back into the main area of the store. The store was quiet and the sheriff was already gone.

“Baby—! There you are—“ Arvin’s voice startled you from behind as he hurried over to you and pulled you into his arms. His hands cupping your face. “What happened?” He questioned, concern written all over his face.

“I was in the bathroom I-uh- have a really bad stomach ache. I don’t know. It came out of nowhere...” you mumbled, holding onto your stomach. Somehow trying to convince him that was the reason for your horrible appearance. He signed in relief, rocking your body back and forth.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home...”

Arvin was oblivious. Maybe, he was too in love and just believed anything that came out of your mouth. You were thankful for that. His hands interlaced with yours, as you both walked out the store, a limp in your step.

The sheriff’s car was parked in the front just like he said he would. He told you in the bathroom he would wait for you.

Most importantly, To leave Arvin.

The two of you locked eyes. The sight in front of him filled him up with jealousy. He saw the way you were limping. Proudly, caused by him. But here you were laced hand in hand with Arvin.

If you weren’t going to leave him, then Lee would take matters into his own hands. The sheriff stepped out his car, stopping you & Arvin. His hands on his hips as he tilted his hat up.

“Something wrong, Sheriff?” Arvin asked, holding you close.

“Just need to have a few words with Miss Y/N at my office. Something about her family came up. Won’t be too long and nothing for you to worry about. I’ll take her home to you— later” he drawled out the last words, his eyes filled with anger and his jaw clenched, you were in for it.

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (12)

all parts in the master list

-

It was easier before, when he wasn’t aware of his feelings and even when he wasn’t allowing them to come to the surface, but now that he acknowledged their presence, she was fucking everywhere. 

He’d be out at a bar or restaurant with his friends and “she” would be seated at a table across the room. At the grocery store or gas station, “she” was checking out or pumping gas. She was never there, though. He hadn’t actually seen her since she came up to his apartment to talk, four days ago, and he’d been looking for her ever since. 

Matthew tried to be coy and ask where she was in a roundabout way but Gio was quick to catch on to his shit and answered him honestly. 

“She took her vacation this week, probably to get away from you and pestilent ways.”

“She’ll be back though?”

“I assume so, no reason to think otherwise.” 

++

He didn’t want to do it. Doing it would mean that he was essentially confessing his feelings and giving up on his resolve but the desire to know what was going on with her was overshadowing his ego.

“Hey man,” he greeted his younger brother, giving him a big smile through the phone.

“Hey,” he returned the greeting.

“So, how you been?”

Brady laughed at that, a heartier laugh than Matthew thought necessary but he was silent anyway. 

“Fucking idiot, I know exactly why you’re calling me, you can cut the ‘how is your life’ shit.”

Of course Brady was going to make him ask about her, because he was enjoying this entire thing and he was a little shit. A little shit that Matthew was very grateful for, given the current situation.

“Fuck, fine! Have you talked to her? She’s on vacation here.” 

“Yep.” 

“And?”

“And what?” 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes because his younger brother held all the cards and they both knew it. If he wanted to learn anything about her, Matthew had to play nice.

“Is she coming to work for the Sens?”

“Doubtful. I’m pretty sure she asked mostly out of frustration because you’re both morons and need to just go out a date, but I don’t know anything for sure.”

“You’ve talked to her though?”

“Here and there, she’s cool.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks man.” 

A short silence lingered between the brothers before Brady spoke again.

“Get out of your head, Matt, ask her out, be yourself and go from there. It will work out or it won’t but you’ll never know if you don’t give it a shot.”

He hated advice from his little brother, slightly because he was supposed to the one to give the advice, and mostly because it irritated him that Brady was right almost all the time.

“I think I might have fucked it up beyond repair.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll talk to her, pick her brain and see how she’s feeling.”

“You know, I fucking hate that you guys are like, kind of friends.”

“I know you do. Get over it.”

The brothers ended the phone call with cheerful goodbyes and Matthew let Brady’s words run around in his head as he headed to the gym to get in an extra evening workout.

++

This was the second time Matthew Tkachuk made you cry. You left his apartment as fast as you could and waited until you were safely behind your apartment door to open the floodgates. 

Why was he so fucking difficult? Why couldn’t he just have a conversation? Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt and why were his abs so nice to look at when he was such an asshole?

You hated that you had feelings for the idiot living on the top floor of your building but you couldn’t help it. Matthew and his irritating ways had found a place in your heart and all you wanted was for him to break down his walls and give you the best parts of him, all the time. 

It wasn’t going to happen though. He was forever going to be an asshole and you needed to accept that. The text message you sent to Brady about possibly working for the Senators was sent purely out of anger and you needed to let him know. You loved Calgary, and despite number nineteen, you loved the Flames. 

Hey, just want to say sorry for that text. Not trying to leave Calgary, just pissed off, I guess.

A few days had gone by and you felt it was time to step away for a moment, so you took your week of vacation.

No worries, I figured.

You figured?

Flames over everything, right? I knew you weren’t leaving. We should talk though, mind if I call you?

Nope, call whenever. 

You talked to Brady for over an hour and when you ended the call, you felt even more confused than you were before. Brady assured you that Matthew liked you but you had heavy doubts, considering his actions a few days prior. 

You didn’t think he was lying, but it was hard to digest when Matthew was barely even looking at you.

It’s not that I don’t believe what you’re saying, you began a text to Brady, but I tried to initiate the talk and he didn’t want it so the ball is in his court.

I completely agree, I’ll let him know

*

Matthew stood in front of her door, a ball of nerves rolling around in his stomach like a bowling ball smashing against the pins. He had no idea if she was home, it was her last day of vacation, but he hoped she was because tomorrow was going to be an early day for the both of you. 

“Hey, sorry, I’m running behind!”

She opened the door in a rush, and Matthew had to step back as he took in her appearance. Dressed in a tight, strappy silk dress that fell just above her knees and hugged her curves, she was attempting to put on her second stiletto when she realized who was actually at the door.

“Oh shit, sorry, you are not who I was expecting.” 

“Yeah, uh, I just wanted to talk but it’s pretty obvious you’re busy so maybe I should just go.”

“I have a date, so yeah, you probably should.” 

His heart wanted to beat out of his chest and he was immediately irritated by whoever it was that was taking her out. Matthew noticed Onyx laying on the floor a few feet behind her as she finished putting on her shoe and smiled immediately.

“Can I take Onyx upstairs?”

“No, Matthew.”

“Please? Just for tonight?”

He gave her his best puppy dog eyes and hoped for the best. 

“Fine, I didn’t plan on coming home tonight anyway and he loves the attention.”

He hated that she had said that. He hated that she planned to spend her night beneath someone that wasn’t him, but at least he had Onyx.

“I’ll come get him as soon as I get home, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Hey,” the deep voice of a man interrupted their conversation, “you ready to go?” 

“Yeah sorry,” the man was giving Matthew strange looks, “my neighbor is just taking my cat for the night, let’s go.” 

Matthew watched them go hand in hand down the hall and as the elevator doors closed behind them, he hoped they had the worst fucking date ever. 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Humans 101.”

Sorry for not posting yesterday. I have had the WORST motivation the past few weeks, but I thought you might like to see some more of Krill. Hope you all have a great day!

Krill walked up the university hallway turning his head to look out the window at the vast expanse of space before him. It had been a very long time since he had been to University, in the Vrul sense of the word, which was less like University and more like on the job training, but he had recently accepted an assignment at the Intergalactic Institute of Biological Science. Granted, he wasn’t a real professor, not fully, but an adjunct who had signed on to do a series of lectures for the next few months while he waited for Admiral Vir’s return. 

Since Simon had become acting Captain of the ship, it seemed that there was less and less reason for him to be there. She wasn’t experienced enough to take on the real dangerous assignments that the Admiral had excelled at, and due to her rule following nature, and the assignments they were sent on, mostly diplomatic and exploratory in nature, Krill had found less and less use for himself on the ship. He didn’t expect to be gone forever, and he doubted he would be able to leave at this point.

He couldn’t return to his home planet, not now there was a standing order for his termination, which he was planning to avoid with great prejudice. Though he found it wildly Ironic that they had asked him to come teach, when many of the professors at the school were, in fact, other Vrul.

It was with this small piece of amusement that he scuttled into the lecture room: Large and circular with seats rising on all sides and a projection hub right in the middle. The room was already packed full despite him being five minutes early. He had been told his lecture series would be popular, but he hadn’t expected there to be standing room only, and even then, there were students sitting on the floor, and a few Vrul floating in the air high above other students' heads.

He moved to the center of the room to set up his projections and, from the corner of his eye watched as a few of the front row students shifted back slightly. The Tesraki, Rundi and Finnari students didn’t seem to notice, but the Vrul students certainly did, sarong at him like he was some sort of freak.

He  could hear the whispering, and he reveled in it.

It was nice to be intimidating sometimes.

Overhead the lights flashed once, and then twice, and the entire room went quiet expectantly looking down at him with their wide eyes.

He drew himself up Resting two of his hands together and another two behind his back as he began pacing his way around the projection field. Students Continued to whisper quietly, “Good morning class, My name is Dr. Krill Galaxy renowned trauma surgeon, and the galactic leading expert in xeno-medicine with an emphasis in humanity.”

There was a uiet muttering around the room.

“I have been acting medical officer aboard the UNSC Omen once Harbinger for more than two years, and I have practiced surgery in hospitals From Andromeda and Irus to the milky way and Earth.”

More shifting wide eyes and some nervous muttering.

He looked around the room shrewdly at all the new faces, “How many of you are interested in working with the intergalactic community.”

A slow raise of hands.

“Then I should probably let you know. Humanity has begun to profuse through all the major sectors of space, business, government, shipping, sales, medical. Humans are everywhere, and humans can do anything. If you wish to work in the wider intergalactic community, you will be working with humans, and many of you will work extremely closely with humans.”

Nervous expressions all around.

“I noticed many of you, the Vrul students especially have noticed the strange effect that spending time with humans can have on an individual.”

He looked around and saw some acknowledgement.

“The colloquial term for it is called the humanizing phenomenon and it will happen to you no matter how hard you try. Scientists have said that you will become more aggressive in order to interact with humans, your movements will become more predatory, you will come to focus on facial cues and the pitch of voices to determine emotion, and soon,you will even begin to utilize human body language in order to communicate better with them.” He motioned to himself, “Out of all the alien species,I have spent the most time with humans, and as you can see, I communicate primarily in a way that humans would understand, mostly with nonverbal body cues. I don’t often use my helium sack as I get in the way with keeping up with humans.” he turned to look around at the room, “Human’s no longer scare me. As pack animals, your social influence is often more important than your physical influence. Given the fact that I have built myself up in social influence within a human pack, I no longer worry myself with being round humans. In fact, I Have never been safer in my entire life.”

His antenna vibrated slightlin amusement, “In fact it is well known that I already have a termination order placed on my head by the Vrul council.”

There was a shocked gasp from certain Vrul parts of the room.

He swaggered about the room a little smugly. He didn’t usually get reactions like this from people.

“They actually took me from an assembly meeting with the GA and brought me back for termination, but one of my humans, as I certainly do consider them mine as much as they consider me theirs, came and rescued me single handedly.”

Another murmuring from around the room.

“How did he do it?”

They waited.

“He used his complex human vocal cords and clapping to simulate a beat. In that way he disabled all the guards, and climbed his way up the guiding rope to the council chamber.”

More soft muttering.

“If you make friends with a human, you are probably as safe as you are ever going to be, especially if you happen to become friends with a very audacious human=, in which case there is nothing that they will not do for you.” He spun on the spot, “Enough for introductions, I will please have you open your files to page one of the textbook, and we will go over a brief discussion of human mechanical anatomy.”

There was a shuffling around the room as Data pads were produced.

Krill brought up an anatomical projection of a human. Looking up it amused him to know that this anatomical model, the one used in almost every nonhuman textbook, was modeled on one single human, that being Adam Vir, all accept for the right leg of course, which was modeled on another human of similar height.

“Humans are are omnivorous bipeds with an endoskeletal structure supported by a vascular system. I know a lot of you have been wrongfully told that humans are primarily carnivores, though that is not true, while human can eat a variety of foods, there are humans that choose to live without eating meat, and they can be sustained on a herbivore diet if they wish. As you can see here, the front facing eyes of the human mark them off as a predator species, though this isn’t always the perfect indicator. Vrul eyes are on the front, but, as we know, Vrul also have prismatic vision that is more closely related that of insects on an earth-like planet.” he glanced around the room, “These predator classifications only exist for a class of alien known as the vascular type, which uses a pump to push fluid through the body. As you know Vrul, Burg, Gromm, and Lumins as well as a few others are not represented in this category.”

“Can anyone tell me which species ARE classified as the vascular subtype.”

There was a raised hand and he pointed, “You there.”

“I can provide a short list sir, Tesraki, Rundi, Humans, and Drev to name a few, but the Drev are a notable outlier for this rule because their war-like culture has supported the slow movement of the eyes towards the front of the face despite them being a herbivore species.”

Krill nodded, “Very good. Yes, humans are in fact a REAL predator species, however it is important to note that the greater 80% of human diets are supported by fruits and vegetables. Based on the amount and distribution of consumed foods, humans are actually closer to herbivores in their dietary choices than they are carnivores.”

There was a soft muttering around the room. Either disbelief or interest, he couldn't tell.

“Historically, humans would have evolved from tree dwelling omnivores, though their diets would also have been primarily fruit, and maybe insects as hunting only really came after they moved to land based travel on two legs. As far as earth animals are concerned, humans are not a top tier predator, and years of life in padded habitats using technology have actually dulled their hunting senses and abilities. A human COULD take a chunk out of you with their teeth, but they certainly wouldn’t WANT to. It would definitely be a last resort. Following that, humans only eat cooked meat as they can grow very sick on consuming certain raw products.”

The class shifted and whispered to each other.

“Yes, I know you have been told many strange and odd things about humans, but most of those are heavily exaggerated. However, it is true that humans are more versatile than most of us. Humans can run, walk, climb, throw, jump and swim, and while they don’t do any of those particularly well, their ability to do all of them  to some degree makes them the most versatile alien in the GA. Furthermore humans also have a multitude of senses, ones that are common to most of us balance, heat cold, pain, etcetera, but there is one sense that they have which is very uncommon in the galaxy, and that is a sense of smell.”

All around him, students were taking notes, “This is the ability for a human to detect particles in the air and, often, identify their sources. Everything sheds particles, and the human nose can pick up those particles. For instance humans generally like the smell of Iotans because Iotins shed compounds similar to foods that humans like to eat. Once upon a time it might have been used to help humans detect poison or other predators, but like I have said before, a human is a middleman in abilities. All of a human’s senses are relatively dull in comparison to some of their earth counterparts.”

He turned to his projector and flipped it to the anatomical structure of a dog, one that had been oddled off the only dog that many aliens had ever met.

Waffles the admiral’s dog.

“This creature’s sense of smell is powerful enough,they have been known to track a sent trail for miles through densely wooded forests. They can smell a change in hormone and pheromone levels on other creatures, and are even being used to detect certain diseases. The best a human can do is smell a cooking meal.”

He walked in a wide circle looking out at the students, some of them looking excited, others staring on in trepidation.

“Human eyesight is on a similar level to their smell. Humans have binocular vision which makes their depth perception quite good. A human is perfectly capable of snatching a flying object out of the air as their predatory instincts draw them to movement. This also makes humans very adept at navigating through obstacles like they might once have had to do in trees. Furthermore, it allows them to guess distance to prey during hunting.” He switched to a picture of a drev, “However humans do not have the best vision out of all aliens species. While the acuity of a human and a Drev are similar, Drev can detect Ultraviolet wavelengths where humans can only see the visible spectrum.” He looked at some of the Vrul, “Take solace in the knowledge that you can see thermal where humans cannot. They have relatively poor night vision, but better than that of you or I and far better than the Drev who traded the use of multiple cones to very frew light sensing rods.”

He looked up from his lecturing, “Are there any questions so far.”

Every had in the room shot into the air.

He paused to look at them faces lit by the glowing bluish light of the hologram behind him and sighed, he supposed this is what he was here for.

“Let’s star in the back then, shall we.”

One of the hands went down.

“Sir, is it true that humans are capable of surviving cortical tissue damage.”

Krill snorted, a sound he probably shouldnt have been able to make since he didn’t have a nose but one he had learned how to make because it expressed a very important emotion when interacting with humans. The entire class looked at him funny.

He sighed, “Yes, The first surgery I preformed on a human involved removing an eight inch steel rod from an eye socket which had gone into cortical tissue. To this day that human… well hes been doing fine, a bit of a dumbass sometimes, but I think that was a part of his personality before brain damage.”

They stared at him confused until Krill realised that dumbass probably wasn’t in their vocabulary. It probably translated to silent butt or idiot butt which didn’t have the same kind of ring to it.

Krill waved a hand, “In certain cases humans have been known to survive with only one hemisphere of their brain.”

A chorus of disbelief, “It is true, in certain cases where electrical abnormalities n the brain cause convulsions, surgeons intentionally remove half the brain to increase quality of life. There are a couple of downsides to this of course, like the inability to play musical instruments, but most humans still live a productive and fulfilling life after the procedure.”

More hands shot up again.

He turned and chose one at Random.

“Can humans smell fear”

Krill frowned, “No humans can’t smell fear. Whoever told you that was smoking something.”The class stared blankly at him until he picked another hand.

“Are you worried that the humans will ever…. Turn on you?”

Krill raised his hands into the air in exasperation, “They are SENTIENT beings not wild animals  Humans have strict social rules like you or anyone else. It would be illegal for them to hurt me , and I doubt they would let it happen at all. Humans aren’t feral. In fact my partner aboard the ship is Doctor Katie Quinn, and she is just as experienced in the field of medicine as I am. SHe can match me in almost any medical procedure and she only has two cortical hemispheres, and less than half the amount of hands.”

He frowned at the room, “I have no idea where ou all got these ideas from. Humans are thinking creatures not animals. The reason they survived on their planet is not because they are the strongest predator, but because they are the smartest, just like you or I. the only difference between us is that the Human planet is so hostile, they have been forced to keep some of their more instinctive tendencies.”

More hands raised.

“Have you seen one of these larger earth animals, sir?”

“Yes on plenty of occasions.” He flipped his diagram back to that of a dog, “This animal here is called a dog, the ancestral  evolution of the wolf, which is just a much larger version of this animal here. These animals are higher on the food chain that humans and have the ability to easily outrun, attack and rip the throat out of a human.” He paused as the class pulled back, “Which is why humans often use them in security, protection and law enforcement, because no human wants to fight one of these creatures.” He smiled a bit grimly, “Also humans just love to keep them as pets.”

There was an uproar around the room.

How could anyone want to keep something that could rip their face off as a pet.

Krill raised a hand to quiet down the room, “I know, I know, it all sounds very strange, but you must understand, humans and dogs are both descended from highly social pack groups. At one point a human took wolf cubs and began raising them and breeding them for desirable traits. As wolves are pack animals they slowly would have begun to see humans as members of their own pack family. In this humans molded a creature into being one of their greatest allies. Dogs rely on humans and humans rely on dogs for many jobs. Humans love dogs and dogs love humans. In fact, humans have bred this animal so extensively that dogs are one of the only creatures on their own planet capable of reading human facial expressions.”

He pulled up an image from his personal files, one where Adam sat on the floor, and the dog Waffles sat next to him. He made a face as her long, pink tongue ran up the side of his cheek.

The class gasped.

“She could easily use this opportunity to kill him.” krill said, “But she never would.” He turned to another image of himself standing next to the dog, a hand resting on her back.

More gasping.

Krill was somewhat amused. “Humans, as I said are social in the extreme, and this fact is going to be our best ally when meeting them. Anyone and anything can become part of a human pack. In fact, this instinct in humans is so strong that inanimate objects can easily be accepted into a human’s pack. They routinely name plants and attribute personalities to them. I once conducted an experiment where I placed fake eyes.” Googly eyes to be exact, “On a waste receptacle, and the humans named him Mr. Rubbish and began throwing away their items exclusively in that specific receptacle as ‘Offerings’ to Mr Rubbish….. That is not a joke, that actually happened.” He appraised them with a stern look, “Befriending humans is the most important thing you can do, and probably one of the easiest things as well. If you find yourself incapable of making friends with a human, its probably time to look at yourself personally because you must be horrible.” he pointed to himself, “I will openly admit that my personality isn’t exactly the easiest to be around, and yet I still managed it on accident.”

His lecture continued for some minutes, covering more anatomy, bone structures and some interesting facts about their internal organs.

However he was forced to stop as little lights began blinking overhead, and he went to dismiss the class, “Next week we will be discussing the effects of adrenaline on humans as a special treat to those who decide to return after this first lecture. And for your assignment, I want you to find one news article that perpetuates a myth about humans and write a short essay debunking it. Since this is the first week I am going lenient on assignments but by the end of the term I do expect full essays at publishable quality.”

Everyone in the class stood, and he found himself suddenly swarmed by a mass of figures.

It seemed as if he was going to be here for a while.

Little did Krill know that his lecture series was becoming so popular that the administration was going to have to upgrade his lecture hall two more times in the concurrent weeks.

Everyone wanted to know about humans.

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

Perfect

A/N: I actually wrote something!! Hallelujah!! Special thanks to @negans-lucille-library for beta reading and putting up with all of my questions!!

Summary: Life with Dean is perfect.

Pairing: Dean x reader (I believe this reader is pretty gender neutral, so I hope some guys out there get to read this and enjoy it, too!)

Warnings: None, really. Mostly fluff. Bit of angst.

Word count: 3497 words

Prompt: For the @spnfanficpond's S14 Weekly Episode Challenge, week 19. I used one prompt. It will be bolded. Not listing it here because spoilers.

Two machetes swung in unison, lopping off two vampire heads and leaving you looking at the proud face of your husband as the bodies fell between you. A beam of sunlight burst through a broken board in the roof of the barn and lit up dust motes in the air around Dean’s head, making him look positively resplendent. You grinned at each other before each of you motioned over the other’s shoulder, and then both spun away, taking down two more vampires with almost synchronized movements. It was always like a dance, fighting with Dean. The two of you had fought together for so long now, you were one unit, just taking down monster after monster in fights that almost looked choreographed.

When the last vampire head hit the ground with a satisfying thump and the corresponding body slumped after it, you both heaved a satisfied sigh and smiled at each other. With a quiet nod, you separated, making sure the barn was completely clear of monsters, inside and out, then met again in the middle with a quick, chaste, kiss.

“I’d do better, but you have a little something right… about...” –you gestured at his cheek, then really all over his face– “well, everywhere, really,” you said with a grimace. “Don’t feel like turning into a vampire just because I wanted to kiss my husband.”

Dean pretended to try and kiss you messily, laughing when you pushed him away. “You mean, it’s not worth two days of puking your guts up with the vampire cure to give your hot-as-hell husband a proper kiss?” Letting you go, he wiped his machete off on the shirt of one of the headless bodies and then headed toward the water pump just outside the barn doors. “I must be losing my touch!” he joked as he began pumping to fill the trough below the faucet.

You joined him in cleaning both your weapons and yourselves, enjoying the clear spring air and bright sunshine warming your back, and soon you were able to safely risk showing your affection. As did every other part of you, your lips fit together perfectly. Dean kissed you so well, you wondered how you ever thought anyone else was any good at it. He took over all your senses, making little happy noises when your tongue slid against his, surrounding you with his arms, filling your nose with the scent of his aftershave and sweat, and leaving the taste of the pie he’d had with breakfast in your mouth. You finally came up for air, still trading little nibbly kisses until you both accepted that the hunt wasn’t done, yet, and you needed to finish it. You stayed in his arms an extra moment, foreheads touching, both reaffirming that you were still here - still alive - and uninjured after the fight.

“Love you,” you whispered, looking through your lashes at the bright green of Dean’s eyes. They always seemed greener in the spring, somehow.

“Ditto,” he whispered back, before landing one last peck on your lips and smacking your ass playfully.

“You’re lucky I love you, or I would have told Sam how you watched that movie, and enjoyed it, a long time ago!” you teased as the two of you split up to head to Baby’s trunk and get cleaning supplies.

Walking ahead of you with those long legs, Dean turned around, walking backward for a step, and gasped loudly. “You wouldn’t!” he cried with eyes wide and his mouth turned into a pout, clearly knowing that you really wouldn’t, but playing your game, anyway.

“That’s right, I wouldn’t because I love you. Now, aren’t you lucky?” you scolded while still grinning.

He stopped you, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, yet again. “Luckiest man in the world,” he echoed, before turning away and unlocking the trunk.

While Dean was digging through the trunk to find a matchbook to go with the can of gas you were holding, you saw something move out of the corner of your eye. Years of hunter awareness sent the hair on the back of your neck standing up while you searched the nearby tree line for another sign of movement. The barn was in the back forty of a farm abandoned at least a decade earlier, so wildlife of all kinds had taken over. The tree line was nothing more than just that: a line of trees that marked the edge of the farm. Over the years, bushes and smaller trees had filled in the gaps between the larger trees, making it a more formidable barrier. Where you guessed you might have been able to see through it years ago, now, it was overgrown and impenetrable. Except for the driveway the vampires had tamed, the grass in the surrounding fields was all knee-high and waving in the breeze. Figuring it was either one of the taller weeds in the grass or an animal, you convinced yourself to let it go as Dean slammed Baby’s trunk lid shut.

The barn had plenty of hay for kindling, but much of it had gotten wet from the holes in the roof. Dean was hauling bales and generally kicking up dust when you inhaled a bit and started sneezing uncontrollably.

“Head outside, honey, and I’ll finish up here,” Dean urged while you continued sniffling and sneezing. “Go use up some of those tissues you keep stashing in my car when you think I’m not looking!”

Not able to speak, you just nodded and headed back out into the sunshine, which started another round of sneezes. You were blowing your nose when you saw another bit of movement by the tree line. Keeping your eyes trained on the grass and bushes that had moved, you finished with the tissues and grabbed your gun from the holster on the back of your belt.

Gun trained in front of you, safety off, you slinked towards the tree line, keeping your eyes moving left to right, looking for another anomaly in the swaying of the grass and weeds. When you reached where you’d seen the movement, there were signs that someone had been standing there all around. Trampled grass, broken branches in the trees and bushes, and then footprints in the mud drew you further into the miniature jungle. You were almost out and on the other side when you were grabbed from behind, a hand put over your mouth to dampen your screams.

Whoever it was pulled you backward, knocking you off your feet so you stumbled. The body behind you spun you and pushed you up against a tree, knocking the gun from your hand in the process. You tried to shove an elbow back into their ribs, but it was caught, and you were pinned. Your mind swirled, going through the intel you’d gathered with Dean before the hunt. Both of you had been sure of the headcount, but obviously, you were wrong. One of them must have been away for a few days, but now they were home and pissed.

“Calm down, kiddo, I’m not a monster,” said a very familiar voice as you were pulled away from the tree, but still held tightly. “Just take a breath and relax and we can talk.”

A deep breath, a subtle shift in your body, and the picture in your mind became something almost like your husband, but not. Your muscles relaxed, trusting Dean no matter what was happening, even though your mind still whirled. Through the leaves of the trees and bushes, you saw your husband walk out of the barn, looking for something. Maybe looking for you.

“Of all the things I thought I might see when I walked into your dream, I really didn’t expect to see me.” The arms around you loosened and you whipped around to see a carbon copy of your husband standing there.

Well, almost a carbon copy. Different flannel. Different jeans. Fewer laugh lines around the mouth. Less unadulterated love and affection in the eyes.

“Dream?” you asked stupidly, looking back at your husband as he began searching for you around the barn. You didn’t want to believe it, but as you watched your husband in the distance, you saw the differences, the unreality. That didn’t stop your heart and mind from clinging to him, wanting nothing more than to go back to him.

The Dean next to you sighed. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m sorry, but it’s a dream. You got nabbed by a djinn. Sam’s off getting ingredients for the antidote, but I couldn’t just sit by and watch you dying, so I took some dream root.”

Your husband looked absolutely panicked as he ran towards another part of the tree line, searching for you. The sight pulled at your heart. How he missed your trail through the tall grass was a mystery. You’d have to tease him on his lack of tracking skills later when you got home, after the panic was over.

“I need to go let him know that I’m okay,” you whimpered, taking a step towards where your husband was beating back bushes looking for evidence of you.

Dean gently grabbed your elbow and stopped you. “No, kiddo, you really don’t. He’s not real.” With some effort, he turned you around so you were looking at him, this man who was so close, but not quite your husband. “I’m real, you’re real, and the crappy motel we’re asleep in out there in the real world, that’s real. But this is all crap. You can walk away from it all and come back to what’s real.”

Silent tears dripped down your cheeks. Your mind fought against it, but once the magic trick was revealed, you couldn’t go back to believing. Memories of working beside Dean for years, loving him quietly while he fought and died and came back and fought and died again… they rushed back in and overwhelmed you. Memories of a quiet confession of love, a small wedding, and a shared bed quickly took on the sepia tones of a fading dream. A sob ripped from your throat, and you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle it.

“So,” you croaked, sniffling through the tears, “everything… with him,” you nodded at your husband, still literally beating the bushes to find you, “all the…,” a sob stopped you until you could swallow it down, “all the everything with him, it was all a dream?” Turning back to the Dean in front of you, your heart ripped in two. “Just a stupid fucking dream?” His face twisted as he looked down to avoid your eyes, but he still nodded. “And now you’re telling me that I have to leave?” He nodded again, his eyes still on the ground instead of on you.

Your husband was getting closer. He’d see you in a minute. He’d hold you, and comfort you, and love you the way this Dean never would. You could go home with him, go back to the Bunker, where Sam and Eileen were teaching hunter classes to Jody’s girls and a few other new recruits. Jack and Cas were fixing Heaven but always visited for Sunday dinner. Eileen was pregnant, and you were going to be a godparent, and Dean had already built the crib and bought the biggest stuffed unicorn you’d ever seen. You could go home with him and live an entire lifetime with him and your family until the djinn poison took you.

“No,” you declared. “I don’t have to leave. It’s my choice. I can stay if I want. Even if I know it’s a dream, I can stay here.” Looking at the real man your husband was based on, you shook your head and stepped away from him. “Maybe it’s just a dream, but it’s my dream, and I’m staying.”

Your husband crashed through the bushes and finally caught sight of you, with another Dean holding your elbow in one hand. His gun came up, the safety clicked off, and you stepped in front of the real Dean. The move stopped him from firing but didn’t quell his confusion.

“What’s going on, babe? You know that’s not me, right?”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face. “I know, but don’t shoot. Please don’t hurt him,” you begged. “Just trust me, okay?”

Pushing Dean’s hand from your arm, you walked toward your husband, arms outstretched. He pulled you close and hugged you tightly, gun still pointed somewhat at the other Dean, murmuring about how worried he’d been when he couldn’t find you.

“Who is this guy, anyway? What’s going on?” he asked you, talking into your hair as he held your head against his shoulder with one hand and continued watching his prey suspiciously.

You’d never felt as safe and loved as you did in Dean’s arms. It didn’t matter where in the world you were, or what was happening around you, in Dean’s embrace was your happy place. You’d do anything to stay there. Even die.

“Nothing you need to worry about, honey,” you reassured him, pulling away so you could look him in the eye. “He’s leaving and I’m staying with you. Till death parts us, and then beyond, like I promised.” Cupping his head with your hands, you kissed him, promising to uphold your vows with every fiber of your being.

“Even if it’s only a dream?” your husband asked, his eyes closed as he touched his forehead to yours.

The surprise that he would acknowledge it rocked you, but your decision stayed the same. Nodding, you glanced back at the other Dean – the real Dean – meaning to say goodbye. What you saw there made you pause: pain reflected in glassy eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be a dream,” he said, almost too quietly for you to hear.

You and your husband froze. “What did you say?” you replied, feeling your thoughts move too slowly to fully understand everything that was happening.

“I said,” Dean answered, taking a deep breath, “It doesn’t have to be a dream.”

Your husband felt you pulling away and tightened his hold on you, tugging your chin so you were looking him in the eye. “I love you, honey, and I love our life and we’re gonna live whatever the badass version of ‘happily ever after’ is, remember?” Tears blurred your view of your husband, but you could see the future with him so clearly. “Sammy and Eileen are gonna have their baby, and we’re gonna have the cutest damn niece or nephew ever, and Claire and Kaia are gonna get married, and we’re gonna do the robot at the reception and embarrass the crap outta them, and we’re gonna keep killing monsters until my knees get creaky and your back gives out, and then we’re gonna retire and help Garth with his monster rehab and teach hunter classes in the bunker, right? Maybe get a little house nearby with a porch we can sit on in the evenings and watch the sunset from our rocking chairs. That’s the plan, right?”

Foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, you both sniffled and nodded in agreement.

“Look, I can’t give you a niece or nephew, or a fancy wedding for the girls, or monster rehab and hunter classes,” Dean said from behind you, “but I can give you nights on Baby’s hood watching the stars, and bad jokes while I stitch you up, and the best bottom-shelf bourbon with a side of diner food after a bad hunt.”

Pulling away from your husband a little, you turned your head to hear Dean’s words.

“I can’t promise we’ll get a little house with a porch and a pair of rocking chairs, but I’ll chase the sunset with you in Baby any night you want. Or, if you want to stay in, we can cuddle on my memory foam and watch movies.”

The arms around you loosened, allowing you to turn around, and you could finally see the emotion in Dean’s eyes.

“I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, I can’t even tell you when it started. All I know is that I’ve always thought you deserved the best, and that’s not me.” He waved at your husband, who had let go of all of you except your hand. “He’s better than me, this world is better than me, and if he were real, if this were real, I’d let you go off and live this life without a single regret.” He shook his head, heaved a deep breath, and shrugged. “But it isn’t real – he isn’t real – and you’re not going to live happily ever after, you’re going to die, and I can’t do it. I can’t let you die if there’s anything I can do to stop it. So, this is me, asking for what I want: a future with you. A future where nothing is certain except that I’ll always do whatever I can to make you happy.”

The last link to the dream faded as you dropped your dream husband’s hand and stepped towards Dean. The world around you changed somehow, the colors turning once again to the sepia tones of the dream that it was.

“I always thought you didn’t think of me that way,” you said, your voice trembling with nerves.

“I’ve always thought of you that way,” Dean replied. “But you were so out of my league, I didn’t think you’d ever think of me like that!”

Staring into each other’s eyes, you both chuckled and then reached out towards each other, clasping your hands and moving closer together. Dean had the beginnings of a goofy smile, and you felt it matched on your own face.

“You really mean it? You really want to be with me?” you asked, needing to hear it just one more time.

“How about you shake off this dream and I show you for real?” Dean suggested, bending over, pulling your trusty knife from your boot, and handing it to you.

Holding the knife in your hand, you felt the rightness of it click into place. Dean had given you this knife shortly after you’d met. He’d picked it out with everything about you in mind. It had engravings on the blade and handle that you thought were beautiful, and the handle was a perfect size and shape for your hand. Looking at it, you marveled at how it was so perfectly you, perfectly Dean, and just all-around perfect. Dean had always loved you, and everything about the knife proved it.

“What do I need to do?”

Dean gestured towards his double standing opposite you.

The other Dean – your dream husband – began backing away. “Honey, no! It’s me! We can fix this! It will feel like a lifetime, but you’ll be safe here! No monsters can kill you here! Eileen’s gonna have a girl and that little warrior princess is gonna wrap me and Sammy around her little finger! There are gonna be tea parties! Don’t you want to see all of that?”

In his rambling, he slowed just enough that you were able to catch up to him and slam the knife into his gut. He doubled over, falling to the ground in a heap. As he bled out, still babbling about how life would have been perfect with him, the dream faded to black.

You woke with a gasp, Dean waking in a similar manner at the same time next to you. You both sat up, looking around the room and patting yourselves down. When your breathing settled, all the aches and pains from being strung up by the djinn slammed into you and you groaned.

“Oh, God, that hurts,” you complained, holding your neck where the thick gauze bandage was covering your wound. Looking down at yourself, you saw the dirty clothes and felt the skunky funk that came from being held captive in a dank basement for most of a day.

Gesturing to yourself in all your post-captivity glory, you commented to Dean, “Are you sure you still want to be with me? I mean, I’m not much of a prize.” Although you were supposedly joking, deep down you were giving Dean an out. Just in case he’d only said what he’d said to save your life, and not because he’d meant it.

Dean shifted on the bed until he was sitting right next to you and then carefully cupped your head with his hands so you could only see him.

“I will always want to be with you,” he said, solemnly looking into your eyes so you would see the truth of his words. “You are the best prize. Better than the prize in any cereal box.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t as flawlessly perfect as the kisses you had in your dream – your teeth clashed a little in the beginning, and Dean tasted a little like the chili lime beef jerky you didn’t like – but it was perfect for you.

[xicarcalii]

2194 Kripke Lane

epilogue

Summary: Can one man change the rest of the reader's whole day? A friendship maybe or even more. After the reader's car has a leak she pulls into Singer's car service and repair. Meeting a very handsome green-eyed mechanic named Dean.

Series Warnings: Angst, language, fluffy stuff yall, slow-burn...ish I guess? Awkward! Dean but he's still a cutie, drinking, mentions of sex, more angst, ex-boyfriend dick bags, hospital situations, mentions of domestic violence, death? I think that's it but if not ill just sneak more warnings in there.

Pairing: Mechanic! Dean x Waitress! Reader (eventually)

Other Characters: Reader x OFC (eventually), Sam Winchester, Anna Milton, Lisa fricken Braedon...., Bobby Singer, Jodi Mills (mentioned)

Divider by: @holylulusworld

Dean heard the sound of a car approaching the shop. He rolled out from under the current car he’d been working on and walked outside. Putting his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun he tried to get a better look. A beige Toyota Avalon approached. He grabbed the grubby rag from his back pocket, wiping the grease off his forehead. You rolled down your window as he strolled up to your car. He leaned down leaning his arm up against the top of your car, "welcome to Singer's car service and repair. Are you here for gas? I could start up a pump.”

“Ah, no actually. My car is leaking and it won’t stop." Dean nodded slightly, “do you mind if I take a look at it?" You nodded enthusiastically. Jumping out, you grabbed your purse and maneuvered around him allowing him access to the driver's seat. As Dean drove the car into the shop's garage, you glanced down at your watch realizing It was a quarter past 3:00. You’ve been off your rocker all day today and it was starting to get on your nerves. With work, your parents, your ex, Jax’s behavior in school, and now this. You felt like screaming into a pillow. Hastily pulling your phone out of your pocket you called the elementary school. You swore you’d win the best mother of the year award right about now. Not. You forget to make sure that your son got picked up from school on time. You had so much on your plate but that wasn’t an excuse and you knew that. So you had every right to beat yourself up over this and feel as guilty as you possibly could for hopefully a long time. You loved Jax, he was your baby. However, recently he’d been showing some behavior you’d seen all too well before and you didn’t know how long it would be before the rest of it came to the surface. “Principal Braeden, speaking.” You weren't very fond of the Principle. She always was too snippy with you and you didn't even want to get started about the animosity she had against your parenting. You knew due to Jax's behavior at school, that was the main reason why. You knew she thought it was your bad parenting and your age but what the hell did she know. Not once did she ever take the time to have a real conversation with you. To try and understand why Jax was lashing out the way he was. To learn more about his background as a baby, ask about his father because it became evident to the other parents that you were probably a single mom. But, you knew how she perceived you as a mom. A 22-year-old waitress who couldn't control her 5-year-old son if her life depended on it. “Hi, this is Jaxson’s mom, (Y/N) Kenner.”

“Ah, (Y/N). I assume you’re calling about you forgetting to pick Jaxson? You know how bad that will look on your part.”

“That's nice to know, but is he still there? My car started leaking and I got a flat,” you tried everything in you to ignore the weasel; trying not the cop an attitude. Most times you failed miserably but this time you think it worked just because your main concern was Jax not dealing with this idjits attitude. “He already got picked up. By who I don’t know?” You nodded your head to the woman’s last string of words. “You don’t know?! Isn’t there some sort of policy there? If they aren’t on the list then my son stays?!” You got a little louder which drew Dean to glance over for a minute and you did the same. He could see the wheels turning even after you stopped speaking. He could see it in manly in your eyes that you were struggling. Noticing his attention made you lower your voice again, rubbing a hand over your face. “Miss Kenner, I’m sure he left with someone he knew. The school’s guidance counselor; Jodi Mill’s was in charge of the carpool this evening. You’re familiar with Jodi, aren't you? I know she wouldn’t have let him go anywhere with someone she didn’t recognize.”

“Yea, I’m very familiar with Jodi but that isn’t the point!”

"Miss Kenner..." you scoffed knowing damn well she was acting like this because of the hatred, jealousy maybe? You had a clue that if she kept moving her cake trap there was going to be a bigger problem. So, you simply hung up. Shoving your phone back into your pocket you put your hands behind your head and began pacing back and forth. You don't know what came over you today. You normally have everything under control. Maybe the weather today? You always hated Fall, took you back to too many memories. It's been chilly and rainy all week. Needless to say, it was shitty outside and it's exactly how you felt on the inside. Your phone rang suddenly, making you jump a bit. It was Anna. 

“Hey, (Y/N)? Are you okay? Jax said you never showed up.”

You sighed over the phone in relief, “oh my god! He’s with you?! I called the bitch of the principal and she said he wasn’t there - that someone picked him up and I thought maybe-” Whilst working on the car Dean kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know you but he felt for you on a personal level when he heard the heavy amount of stress in your voice. “Of course, I picked him up, we just got home, actually. Stopped to get some groceries. I figured something had to have happened. " You sighed in relief pinched the bridge of your nose, “he’s okay then?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, Jax and Ava are in the living room watching TV. Are you okay, though?”

“Yeah!” You could hear the unconvincing tone in your answer; pretty sure Anna and Dean heard it too. You let out a quiet chuckle, moving your hair behind your ear as you eyed Dean’s movements for a moment, debating a response. “It’s-it’s nothing, Anna really.” It sure as hell was something, but you and Anna have known each other for years and she knew you all too well to know you were the type of person to doge your feelings from left to right. She sometimes called you hedge for the fun of it because of how closed off you were; even to your best friend. “Sure…”

You stayed quiet. You didn’t want to answer the question she was trying to pry out of you just because you didn’t want to come to terms with the answer. After scrutinizing the leakage, Dean came to the conclusion that the engine needed to be replaced as well as the flattened tire in the back. "Um, ma’am?” You turned around when you heard his voice. “Anna, I'll call you back." You hung up the phone and took a deep breath praying the price was as low as you would've hoped. You were a waitress at a crappy Diner in town and you only carried the tips you made as pocket money. You had money, believe me, you did and it was from your parents for reasons not to discuss as of right now, but never in a million years would you use that money unless it came down to having to move. Again. “Your car needs a new engine, and the tire needs to be replaced." You ran your hands through your hair, frustration evident on your face. It was already 4:00 and you just wanted to get home. It felt like your legs were going to fall off, you felt gross and sticky. Sticky because you ran into another coworker when carrying some pop to a table. “It’s getting late and I have to be at work by 6:00 tomorrow morning.” You did consider using your credit card for a moment, you were just not trying to fuss at him but when about to ask about the ATM you noticed it was broken so that was not even an option anymore.

"I understand, but you can't go rolling around with a busted engine and a semi-flat tire, sweetheart. If you leave now, you won't make it far." You placed your purse down onto the hood of your car. Rummaging through it until you found your wallet. "How much is it going to cost, exactly?" Dean grabbed the toolbox to get started. "Well, the flat tire is going to be $10." You nodded take your purse off the hood with your wallet in hand so he could have room. Watching him work you started pulling out cash counting it, “okay, that's no problem, and the engine?"

Dean opened up the hood inspecting the engine whilst simply stating, "$260..."

"Two hundred and sixty bucks?!" You blankly stared at him. You were hoping at least in the hundreds but what did you know. Running your hands through your hair again, you sighed in frustration. Dean looked up at you and noticed that seemed to be a habit of yours. "I don’t' have that type of cash on me. Can you just fix my tire then?" Dean reluctantly nodded his head with a tight smile.

"Sure, won’t take me less than three minutes."

You stood watching Dean finish tightening the bolts on the new tire. Fixing your strap on your shoulder you decided to break the silence. "I really appreciate you replacing the tire, at least.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, awkwardly standing to the side. He looked back up at you, “don’t sweat it, It’s kinda my job.” Dean was satisfied on the outside, but on the inside, he felt pretty bad. And on top of that, he didn’t know what happened on the other side of that phone call but it didn’t seem too pleasing. From the looks of it, you had a kid, too. He could pick up you had a lot on your plate and he also knew you didn’t have that kind of money, seeing you were just a waitress. So, he thought to hell with it. Besides, he couldn’t turn down a beautiful girl. He thought of it almost as him being your knight and shining armor you know, with you being the damsel and all. He began to hand you back your keys but his consensus stopped him from doing so. He sighed in defeat dropping his hand. You furrowed a brow, “is there a problem?” Dean put his greasy hand on your shirt quickly removing it. Realizing he was going to leave a greasy handprint on your shoulder. "Hey, uh... I'll knock the price down. I don't want you breaking down in the middle of the road. Having no car for work, alright?”  You listened to him with furrowed brows, letting out a small sigh as you pondered his offer. You concluded with a small nod you gave him a small smile, "thank you, uh..." He chuckled quietly. Dean noticed your body seeming to relax for the first time since he’d been willing to come to some sort of agreement, satisfying the both of you in the end. Nobody hadn't really cared about your situation except for this mechanic. “Dean. Names Dean. And uh, I’d shake your hand but...” He glanced down at his hands, acknowledging the grease. You giggled, pointing down at your name tag. Dean. It was a good name though, and it went perfectly with his face. Which you couldn’t stop looking at; you didn’t want to get started in those green eyes. He glanced down smiling when he actually notice your name tag. "(Y/N). I like it. Well, replacing an engine usually would take hours, but you came to a professional.”

“Uh-huh, sure I did.” you teased. “So, how much would you need now?" You had no idea how low he was willing to accept, "how about $70?" Your heart skipped a beat. Thank God you thought to yourself. You reached in your pocket, pulling out all the tips you made today. $100 dollars was all you could give him. Hesitantly you handed him the money. He shrugged, "meh, good enough, sweetheart."

"So, you're not mad at me for not paying the full price then?"

"I'm not mad. I get it, money's tight. And I wasn’t tryna be in your business or nothin' but you have a kid to take care of. And not that it means anything coming from me but you're doing the best you can, and don't let the one who pizza-rolled Tinkerbell get to you." You knew he was talking about Lisa. Dean knew his words wouldn’t make things any better at the moment. But you needed to hear them. He almost saw you roll your eyes at his comment but the laugh that came after that; on the other end had brought a small smirk to his lips.

"But, I know my boss is gonna want you to eventually bring in the rest of the cash."

“I will, I promise. I don’t get paid in tips often, but I can save up the tip money and go from there. And plus, for someone to have dropped a price down that low for me...” You paused, “don't sweat it, (Y/N)." He said Sincerely. You blushed, looking down which Dean did in fact notice and he held back a smile. Scratching his head awkwardly he smiled at the ground for a moment. “Well, if that’s it, (Y/N) … I guess I’ll be seen ya.”

“Yea, you will.” You commented before looking at the road, your thoughts on what to say next. “Thank you, again Dean … truly. You made my afternoon a lot better after the shitty day I’ve had and I’m kinda glad my car got screwed to hell now that I think about it” Dean smiled at the kind words. You didn’t mean what you said but then you did. Something about a possible friendship coming from this made you feel a little happy. Having more than two close friends would've been nice. And from this interaction, maybe so? However, even though he was still just a stranger who had enough sympathy to cut a price down for your car didn’t mean anything, you told yourself keeping your guard up no matter what was the best thing to do from now on. Your conversation stilled, but there wasn’t an awkward silence. It was easy for you to lose yourself in the scenery around you. It was still chilly outside but the sun was setting and from the shop, it was the perfect view. He followed you up to your car and opened the door for you to get in. Your attention drew back to him when he spoke, “don’t be a stranger, sweetheart.” He grinned at you, “and take your time with the cash, no rush.” You smiled widely before you laughed, "I won't, Dean. Pretty sure you’ll see me again soon. Have a nice night.” He shut the door before responding, “yea, you too. And get home safe.” He stepped back, giving a slight tap on the top of your car, and waved with a small smile when you pulled out of the garage.

Making your way back onto the road you honked twice before driving out of sight.

tag list: @thatonecurlygirl @wearywinchester @justkending @iris-nicara

[whereisten]

Valentine Boy

(MOBILE-FRIENDLY VERS.)

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3.1 | Part 3.2 | Part 3.3 | more coming soon

Special Cover Art by @nakayutasama ❤️

Summary:

You’ve been dating College Student!Jaehyun for a few months now. He’s unbelievably sweet, smart, oh..and very handsome. Best of all, he gives you the best love you’ve ever had. He’s the love of your life and you can’t see anything going wrong as your relationship sails smoothly..that is..until you discover his biggest secret. He’s been hiding the fact that he’s a camboy and you start to wonder..Is Jaehyun as sweet and honest as you think he is?

Pairing: female reader X college student and camboy!Jaehyun

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: cursing, cheating, cam boy (video-recorded sex with online audience), deception, manipulation, blackmail, alcohol use, descriptive smut (fingering, overstimulation, face riding, dirty talk, BDSM themes (handcuff usage, spanking), drunk sex, oral sex (m&f receiving), some masturbation, rough sex, vaginal penetration, breast fondling, dry humping, semi-public sex).

(A/N): I received a message saying that Part 3 was difficult to read on mobile, the app would glitch and eventually close (because we love tumblr for being efficient). So I am splitting part 3 into 3 equal parts of about 7K words each for easier reading. Thank you all again for supporting this fic!!!!🥺❤️

Jaehyun pulls away and looks into your eyes. “Are you hungry?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He chuckles. “Me neither. Let’s get out of here.”

He takes your hand and leads you to his car. He then drives and parks in an empty parking lot. A soft song plays in the background as you begin to kiss again.

Jaehyun’s tongue traces over your bottom lip. You turn your head and run your hand down his chest, your delicate touch sending shivers up his spine.

Your hand travels all the way down to his jeans and rubs his bulge. He fidgets and moans into your mouth.

Jaehyun growls out:

“Needy.” *kiss*

“Girl.” *kiss*

You laugh, but continue to press onto the growing tent.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper.

“It was kinda hot.” Jaehyun kisses your neck and pulls your leg over his lap. “I was thinking of how I would punish you for it..how I’d shut you up.”

You climb over the center console and onto his lap, his arm around your waist as he helps you.

He pushes the seat back and puts his hands behind his head.

“No teasing this time, baby.”

You nod, quickly unbuttoning your shirt. The cold night air hits your chest but the warmth in the car quickly comforts it.

Jaehyun then pulls your bra down, your breasts popping out from it and bouncing gently.

He leans forward to palm both nipples, watching you as you bite your lips and moan quietly. The stars shining on your skin through the sunroof.

He licks one of your nipples and listens to you cry out. Your head falling back as he flattens his tongue against your heated skin once more.

He looks up at you through his lashes then sucks your nipple.

“Jaehyun..that feels so good.”

He hums and sucks as you move back and forth on his lap. His bulge presses against your underwear as your skirt slides up your thighs.

He zips his jeans down. You watch his length spring out, the tip red and dripping with pre cum. You could orgasm from the sight alone.

You leave your skirt on but shimmy out of your panties. He then pulls out a condom and glides it down onto himself.

“Come here..” Jaehyun calls to you then lays back down on the seat. You lower yourself slowly, thankful for your own essence that allows him to enter you easily.

“Fuck.” You mutter once he fills you up completely. You feel every ridge of every vein run against your silky walls. For some reason, he feels bigger than usual.

You move up and down and swivel your hips. Jaehyun’s dick glides into you easily now, your wet entrance happily greeting it each time.

Jaehyun watches you through low eyes. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t frown. It’s a blank face, it’s almost like he’s not really there with you.

The truth is, Jaehyun was thinking about how close he was to being caught. You went to his workplace and discovered the truth. He was able to cover it up quickly but he made you feel bad in the process. A part of him truly regretted lying to you. But he knew one day he would find a way to explain it all to you and he knew you would forgive him because you love him.

Your whimpers grow louder as you approach your climax, but Jaehyun is nowhere near his. You bounce up and down faster, hissing as you take in sharp breaths and closing your eyes as you clench.

He stares at you again and thinks of how precious you are to him. Your face is beautiful even as your mouth falls open into loud moans and your eyes shut tightly. Your jawline and neck sparkle not only with sweat, but the reflection of the stars above you.

Your womanhood feels amazing around him as it always does. He rubs your clit to push you further along.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me.” His deep voice echos.

The car is filled with lewd sounds of skin on skin and your cries.

“J-Jaehyun..” your name falls from his lips. He watches your perky nipples. He palms one with his other hand then pumps your breast.

You cum hard not long after. Curse words leave your lips as you fall apart on him. He continues to push into you, even as you clench uncontrollably around him.

He grips your waist and slams you down onto him, your tight pussy providing sensational vibrations to his cock.

“Ahh..that’s it, sweetheart.” Jaehyun grunts

“Baby!” Your eyes fly open. You are so sensitive and on the brink of passing out from your intense orgasm but he doesn’t stop to let you recover.

He pushes into you hard from below, you breathe heavily and look up at the sky as tears fall from your eyes.

“This pussy is mine right?” Jaehyun growls.

“Y-yes…yes.” Your head is empty as he continues to fuck into your body from below.

He then cums and stares at your body above him, so beautiful, so perfect.

You lay on top of him for a moment. He holds you against him in his arms.

“I’m sorry..” He whispers then kisses your ear.

“I’m sorry, too.” You whisper back.

A few minutes later, you get into the passenger seat and let Jaehyun drive you home.

However, he has to make a stop at the gas station to fill up.

When he goes inside to pay the cashier, you grab his phone.

You tried to think of the security code. What could it have been? You tried his birthday, but it didn’t work, you tried several other basic combinations like ‘1,2,3,4’ or ‘9,8,7,6’ they didn’t work.

Jaehyun was still inside, but you only had one more try before his phone would lock  itself for a few minutes.

You thought for a minute then tried one final code..your birthday. And it worked.

You quickly went to your contact name on his phone and selected “share my location.” This way, if you ever needed to get to him, you would know exactly where he is.

The idea sounded crazy to you, but a part of you still felt unsure about everything. You wanted to bring up the text messages you saw, but you knew that would make him upset again. He’d ask why you invaded his privacy. So instead, you decide to have his location turned on for you to see…just in case.

Jaehyun gets back in the car and you’ve already placed his phone back in the cup holder.

“Let’s get out of here..” he gives you a wide smile and winks.

————

[A Few Days Later at 12:33 PM]

You to Jaehyun: hey baby, just got out of class, what are you up to

Jaehyun to You: getting ready for work at 1, I’ll be free at 3:30, I’ll come over to your place

You to Jaehyun: sounds good, love u

Jaehyun to You: I love you, too

You immediately place your phone back into the pocket of your shorts and head for the bus loop at your university. These buses were free and available for students, staff, and professors to use. Since you didn’t have a car, you found it very convenient, for there was always a route that could bring you to or at least close enough to your desired destination.

You had to see where Jaehyun was when he went to work. Something didn’t feel right and your mind hadn’t been at ease for days. You wanted to trust Jaehyun, but you couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for his weird schedule and the way he would act whenever you asked him about his job. It was like he didn’t want to talk about it. He’d change the subject.

You got on a bus that would take you in the direction of where he worked. You went to his contact name in your phone once you sat down, and at 1PM, you saw that he was no longer moving based on his blinking dot, he was stable in a location after traveling there. When you looked closer, you realized that the location he was at was not his work address. It was close, but not exactly where his work was.

After about 20 minutes, you pulled the string to let the driver know that you wanted to get off at the next stop.

You stepped off and proceeded on the rest of your journey on foot, walking closer and closer to where the blinking dot was.

When you were just a few feet away from him, but very far from the building he claimed to work in, you noticed that you were in an apartment complex.

Your heart started to beat fast. What could he possibly be doing here?

You walked closer and closer, eventually to the very apartment building he was in. You looked at your blinking dot and at his blinking dot and saw that they were nearly on top of each other.

What would you do now? You couldn’t just knock on the door of any random apartment, people would think you’re crazy or sketchy.

You bit your lips and closed your eyes. This couldn’t be happening. You swallowed hard then did what you had to do next.

You opened Safari and went to OnlyCams, then looked up the username of the person that your best friend showed you after Valentine’s Day. Your hands started to shake, you were so nervous you felt as though you would throw up right then.

You knew your suspicions would be wrong, for Jaehyun could never do this to you. No, he loved you too much, he wouldn’t lie to you, you just had to trust him.

Live.

They’re live. Shit.

You take a deep breath and quickly make a fake account by signing up for a free trial and registering your email. It was a stretch but you had to know, you’ve gotten so close.

Once you’re finally in the chat room under the video playing, you see a couple on a couch. The male’s head isn’t shown, but the naked woman has a leash around her neck that is being pulled by him as he fucks her from behind. Her eyes are teary and her cheeks are stained with mascara as she moans. The man yanks the leash and pushes even harder, her ass hitting against his pelvis.

You narrow in on the man and the room, looking for anything that would indicate that it’s him.

He grunts, but you can’t tell if they’re his grunts.

That’s when you see a phone on the table by the couch. It’s off to the side, barely in the camera’s view point.

You take a deep breath and decide to call Jaehyun.

You put the call on speaker as it rings then switch back over to the live stream. Sure enough, the phone on the table lights up as a call comes in. You shudder. You can’t see the contact name, but it could just be a coincidence right?

The screen goes black just as the phone stops ringing. You hang up and wait for a moment.

While you wait, the couple change positions with the other woman over his lap as they sit on the couch. He chokes her while she bounced up and down on him.

You still can’t see his face, but his hands look familiar. The length of his fingers look familiar.

You swallow hard then dial him up again. The phone on the table rings.

You let out a shaky breath as tears come to your eyes. It was him, it had to have been. You end the call then exit the stream.

It becomes difficult to hold onto your phone as the reality sets in, the reality of what you had been hoping was not true. Jaehyun was cheating on you. All those times that he said he was going to work when he was really going to another woman.

You’re a fool. You thought to yourself. How could you not know that he would cheat on you?

You sat down at the end of the staircase outside of the apartments and placed your head on your arms. You cried into them hard, finding it difficult to even breathe as your world crumbled before you.

Everyone told you from the beginning that Jaehyun was a player, that he didn’t stay with one girl for too long, that his appetite could never be satisfied. But you ignored them, you trusted him and gave in to him. You thought he loved you, you thought you were different.

He made you feel like you were good enough, that he loved you more than anything in this world. He played his game so well.

“I’m so fucking gullible.” You cursed to yourself and sobbed harder. You wanted to walk home but you didn’t have any strength in your legs, you could only sit and rest your head into your arms. Even when the dark sky was about to burst with what would be the worst thunderstorm, you stayed there. You didn’t care if you got wet, you didn’t care about anything really.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, wishing that your mom were there to comfort you, wishing that you could run until you couldn’t run anymore, with the pain of breathing and walking becoming so unbearable that it would finally overtake this pain you felt right now.

It felt like you had been stabbed in the heart and Jaehyun was watching you bleed to death.

How could he do this to you? That’s all you keep thinking.

And when it was 3:30 PM, you heard a door click open. You stood up and turned around.

Jaehyun was at the top of the staircase, locking the door behind him.

His movement froze when he turned and saw you at the bottom of it.

“Y/n?” His breathy voice echoed in the hall.

Your eyes were red and swollen, he knew you had been there crying for quite some time and he felt his heart break.

“Y/n..please..I can explain.” He hurries down the stairs but you shake your head and burst into tears as you run away from him.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to him. “Please, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Fuck you, Jaehyun! I know it’s you, I watched it on my fucking phone! Let go!”

“No! Baby, I-“ Jaehyun’s grip doesn’t loosen as he begs you to stop.

Without thinking, you slap him with your free hand. He lets go and your mouth falls open but you don’t say anything, you turn around and run.

Jaehyun touches his red cheek then runs after you as the rain begins to pour down on both of you. “Y/n!! I’m sorry! But I can explain, just stop. Let’s talk about this!”

But you continue running. Your vision is blurry, your tears mixing with the rain as you run faster and faster. You keep going, just as long as you get away from him.

Jaehyun eventually slows down and stops following you. “Fuck.” He curses and throws his backpack to the ground.

He bends over and pants, how could he have messed up so bad? He let lust and greed take over, and now, he lost you.

———

[One Week Later]

It’s been a few days since you discovered Jaehyun’s secret. Your best friend helped you by making you laugh or helping you cook dinner. She’d take you to your favorite ice cream shop or bar and get you drunk. But unfortunately, you always ended up crying after the fun.

Everything reminded you of him, you couldn’t get his dimply smile or beautiful laugh out of your head.

You deleted his number from your phone, or rather, your best friend deleted it, but he kept texting you. You didn’t let her know this but you recognized the number.

Jaehyun to You: Please, talk to me, I messed up but I still love you

You’d receive messages like this at least twice a day. The first day after you caught him, he texted you once an hour. It was difficult but you were able to turn your phone off and cry in bed alone. He didn’t dare try to see you as you both knew your best friend would be crazy enough to cut him if he tried.

You would’ve loved some comfort and wisdom from your mom, but you knew she too loved Jaehyun. She invited him over many times and enjoyed his company. He made her laugh and smile with his charm. She would’ve been devastated if she knew what he had done.

But for now, you only had your best friend and her boyfriend.

“I feel like a complete idiot.” You said one night at dinner.

“He’s a fucking douchebag. He didn’t deserve you, but don’t worry you’ll find someone better.” Jackson, your best friend’s boyfriend tried to help you feel better. It had been a week and you guys ate out at a Korean barbecue place.

You nodded and looked at the sizzling beef.

The night went on and the three of you talked about other things so you wouldn’t think about him, but in the quiet moments you saw how cute they looked together. You remembered how cute you and Jaehyun looked together, walking hand in hand as you explored the city.

That night, when you were alone in your bed, you decided to delete the photos of him and any couple photos you had from your Instagram. You didn’t look at the pictures for long, because it would be difficult to let go, but you had to try. It was the first step you needed to take towards moving on.

But one photo caught your attention. It was the one of him in the vinyl store. You snapped a quick Polaroid of him flipping through vinyls to buy. He was adorable in his white T-shirt under a brown button down. His ears turned a peachy pink when you caught him off guard. His hair was wavy and made him look innocently cute.

He laughed and looked away shyly, like a girl that had just been asked out.

Just remembering his face sent butterflies through your stomach. You smiled to yourself as you heard him singing like you did that day.

He picked up a Styx vinyl and showed it to you.

“Look at this one..” He said while running his hand over the cover.

“Styx? Who’s that?” Your lips pursed.

“You don’t know them?”

“Never heard of them.” You shrugged.

“Oh come on, don’t you know ‘Babe?’’ His eyes widened.

“NOPE, but if you sing it to me, maybe I will.” You gave him a wink and stepped closer to him while looking into his eyes.

He chuckles and looks away. “Well, I guess it’s time to embarrass you.”

“Wait..” Your eyes grow, but Jaehyun quickly places the record down and grabs you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

He pecks your lips as you press your hands against his chest.

“Jaehyun!” You giggle as he lays even more kisses along your jaw and neck. People in the store turn to you and start to laugh.

“The song goes…

‘'Cause you know it’s you babe

Whenever I get weary

And I’ve had enough

Feel like giving up

You know it’s you babe’.”

He sings obnoxiously loud, but it’s beautiful. You loved hearing him sing. His voice was soothing and had a warm tone about it. You’d never heard anything like it before. The raspiness of it gave you chills every time.

Tears fall onto your pillow while you remember the good times. You go to YouTube and search for the song so that you can listen to it, knowing that it would make you cry harder. But you just wanted to hear it..just one more time.

You cried yourself to sleep again, forgetting that you were supposed to delete the photo.

—————

Jaehyun stares at the text box. He sees the blue messages he’s sent and waits for you to text him back even though he knows you won’t.

He places his phone down on the bar and rubs his tired eyes. He hadn’t slept much, he stayed up and cried sometimes over you. He hated himself for what he did and he wished he could make everything right. He hoped that one day you would give him a second chance.

But unfortunately, he just wanted to stop thinking about you for now. He missed your touch, your smile, your scent, your hair, your giggle. He missed everything. He couldn’t work with Reina anymore because he was so heartbroken to lose you. Why didn’t he just tell you honestly from the very beginning when he started this job? Why couldn’t he tell you when you had so many chances to before?

He downed another shot and swallowed the bitter liquid hard. Getting drunk would help him forget how he was feeling, if just for a few hours. He thought he wouldn’t see you if his vision was blurry.

He is too drunk to walk or drive, so he calls the one woman that would take care of him.

“Reina..I need you.” He mumbles over the phone.

Reina is ecstatic as she drives Jaehyun home. She’s more than happy about the breakup and believes that he will finally be hers.

“Take me to your apartment, I can’t let anyone on campus see me like this.” Jaehyun leans against the passenger window. He starts to sober up and hates himself once again for calling on Reina for help.

When they get back to her apartment, Reina pours herself a glass of wine and sits on the couch next to Jaehyun.

He bends over and screams, but she’s unaffected.

“Damn it!” He lets out.

She swirls her wine while looking at the glass in her pretty hand.

“This is all your fault!” Jaehyun yells.

“Are you talking to yourself, Jaehyun?” She takes a long sip then places the glass down.

“No! I’m talking to you. You ruined my relationship. I was so happy with her..then you came along and offered me this fucking job.” Jaehyun sat up straight and looked at the floor while crossing his arms. His hair is disheveled and his face is red.

She laughs. “This is my fault? You’re the one that got yourself into this. You should’ve stopped when you had the chance. You should’ve told her the truth, Jaehyun.”

“Fuck you..I should’ve said no, you always wanted me more than I wanted you and now look at me. I’m alone, I’ve lost the one woman I love.”

Reina scoffs. “No, fuck you for coming to me when you have no one else!” She says and storms off into her room. “You’re an asshole and I should’ve never gotten involved with you! She hates you and I hate you too, Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun stands up and walks over to her room. He holds her shoulder and brings her to the wall. “What did you say?”

“I said I hate you.” Reina pouts and stares at his lips. She started to tear up at his words when she realized that she wouldn’t get him now that you two had broken up. He was still in love with you, she didn’t stand a chance.

A low chuckle escapes his chest and it makes Reina weak to see his smirk. He’s drunk and sweaty but she wants him so badly. His dark eyes narrow in on hers, making her feel small.

“That’s not very nice of you. I recall you wanting to be my girl, even stalking me in Bali.”

“Y-yes, I did that, but I was a fool to think you’d want me. Even now, I’m a fool..”

He grabs her chin in between his thumb and index finger. “No, you’re not. You just have to show me why I should be yours then, kitten.”

Jaehyun was too good at getting Reina where he wanted her. She had a weakness for him and he knew it. He knew what to say to make her fall for him every time.

She can’t resist him. She rubs her hand over his crotch before pulling the zipper down.

He takes her hand and flips her around so his chest is on her back and she lays flat against the wall. He flips her skirt up and teases her entrances with his tip.

“What do you want me to do?” Jaehyun whispers into her ear from behind.

“Fuck me, Jaehyun.”

He enters her swiftly, sliding into her easily as she moans.

They have sex without cameras, but it isn’t the first time they’ve gotten drunk and done something they’d both come to regret the next day.

She rides him as he lays on the bed and imagines that it’s you above him. He can hear your whimpers and see your dazzling skin. He can feel your dainty touch, it’s like you’re right there with him.

His vision is blurry, he tricks himself into believing that Reina is really you.

He flips her over and hugs her while still grinding into her body below him. “Baby, I love you, I love you so much.” He says to Reina, forgetting that she’s not you.

Reina, on the other hand, believes that he’s talking to her. She cums unexpectedly and smiles to herself thinking she finally has him, he’s going to be her boyfriend because he just said he loves her.

—————

[The Next Day]

Jaehyun wakes up to a buzz from his phone.

When he forces his sleepy eyes open he sees Reina in his arms. “Shit.” He says quietly and then carefully shimmies out of the bed. He struggles to remember what happened the night before, but based on his naked body, he knows he and Reina had sex and he deeply regrets it.

He looks at his phone, his eyes widening when he sees your name pop up.

You to Jaehyun: we need to talk.

You couldn’t stay away from him anymore, you missed him so much your heart hurt. You texted him because despite what everyone had told you, you had seen a different Jaehyun during these months. Something about him had to be genuine, and you wanted to stop crying at night. And your best friend knew you needed closure. She wanted to feel better so she supported your decision to talk with him.

Jaehyun quickly responds.

Jaehyun to You: yes, when and where

You hesitate to answer. Is this what you really wanted? Do you really think he could change?

You to Jaehyun: meet me downtown at 12 PM

Jaehyun puts his clothes on and calls for an Uber to take him back to the bar that his car is at.

As he’s about to leave, Reina surfaces with her blanket wrapped around her.

“Where are you going?” She rubs her eyes.

Jaehyun turns and replies with a wide smile, “She texted me back! I’m going to make things right!”

Reina frowns. “But..”

“I’ll text you later and let you know how things go!” He heads out the door. It slams shut behind him. Reina stands and fights tears, once again feeling neglected, disappointed and hurt. She had gotten her hopes up..again.

————

[Downtown, 12 PM]

You stepped on your toes as you anxiously waited for Jaehyun. Maybe he changed his mind, what if he didn’t show?

What if he didn’t care—

You see him, his hair a bit messy but he walks quickly towards you.

You gulp and feel your chest cave in at the sight of him, your love.

“Hey..” You say quietly.

“Y/n..” The way your name leaves his lips in a breathy, low tone makes your legs weak.

He stops before you, you look up at him and breathe deeply. You can do this, stay strong. Your best friend’s words echo in your head. You had to remain firm and not fall for him in the first twenty seconds like a fool.

“Can we walk?” He asks.

“Sure.” You shrug.

The two of you walk side by side in silence for a few minutes.

The day is bright and sunny, the wind feels good on your skin.

“Y/n…a few months ago, I met this girl named Reina. She was in the top 10% of creators on OnlyCams and she offered me a job. She said I could work with her and we’d split the profits evenly. It’s an easy job. I just have to…have sex with her on camera and that’s it. We were only supposed to meet once a week to create content, but then the subscribers wanted more. We knew we could make money so we met more often. I let it get out of hand.”

He takes a deep breath. “I-I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her..I should’ve just said no and gotten a regular job. I should’ve thought of you first, I thought it was okay because it was just physical not emotional, but it’s not okay and I’ve hurt you.”

You stop and turn to him. “No, it’s not okay, Jaehyun. I fucking hate you for this.”

Jaehyun swallows hard and looks away from you. “I’m tired of walking, can we get on the Ferris wheel?”

The city had a large Ferris wheel that rested at the center of downtown. It was an attraction that many people went on to complete their vacations.

“Only if you pay.” You roll your eyes, Jaehyun holds back a laugh.

The two of you get in your own pod and sit down. It’s the perfect day to enjoy this ride. It’s quiet and not too many people walk around, you can really enjoy nature and the view of the city from above. But unfortunately, your heart was still broken and you were still sad.

“You cheated on me several times. I gave you so many chances to be honest with me, but you turned it on me every single time! You made me feel like I was crazy not to trust you when things just weren’t adding up. And here I am, being a fool for you.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for being an ass all those times. I know I could never make up for it, I want you to know that I love you and I’ll be okay with whatever you choose to do now that it’s over. But I hope you’ll choose me, I hope you’ll give me a second chance.”

“You know me, you know I would’ve been okay with it had you told me..It’s just a job, Jaehyun. Why didn’t you tell me?” You turn to him with tears in your eyes again.

“Because I thought you’d break up with me for even thinking about doing this with someone else. I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you.”

“Well, now I’ve broken up with you for lying AND cheating. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough, and Valentine’s Day was the icing on the cake. You spent it with someone else. Do you know how hard that was for me? Oh and in Bali, you lost it when I simply danced with someone that I thought was you yet you were fucking someone else daily? That’s twisted and crazy…” You scoffed. “And you expect me to trust you again?”

Jaehyun gives you pleading eyes. “I know…I’m a piece of shit, I can’t take it back, but I can be better, I promise. Losing you has taught me so much.”

“What else is a lie, Jaehyun? Are you really into painting or was that something you used on all your girls?”

“I swear to you I never lied about anything else, I love you, every moment we had was sincere. You weren’t a game to me. Please..believe me.”

He places his hand on top of yours. You glance down at it and pull your hand away.

You shake your head. “I don’t even want to be here with you right now. How long is this ride?”

“Um…thirty minutes..”

“THIRTY MINUTES? Are you serious, Jaehyun?!!”

He nods and scoots closer to you. “Don’t worry, it’ll go by fast as long as we talk. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Jaehyun…” You exhale and let a few tears fall. He quickly wiped them from your face as he stared at you. “Do you love her?”

His brows furrow. “No, of course not. She’s just my coworker and I plan on stopping if you come back to me, I’ll never do those things on camera again.”

“Does she love you?” You look outside to avoid his gaze.

“I-I don’t know and I don’t care, because you’re all that matters to me.” Jaehyun just wants to hear you say yes, he just wants to see you smile again.

You turn to him. “Jaehyun..I don’t know..I need time.”

“Okay, we have about twenty minutes left on this..” He sits back and looks out through the wide window.

The city is nice, peaceful. The buildings come together like legos but less pretty.

You start to think of all your moments together. Would you stay with him to experience more special moments together just to be hurt in the end?

You stare outside and think of everything as time passes by. You sit there in silence but it isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable, actually. You’re allowed to think.

When there’s only about ten minutes left and the ride starts to descend, Jaehyun gets on his knees and kneels below you.

“I love you..I always will..and I’ll give you however much time you need, even if that means waiting until the day I take my last breath.” A tear runs down his cheek as he looks up at you.

“Jae..” You exhale. “Get up, don’t be so dramatic..”

But he doesn’t move. You rub your hand along the side of his beautiful face and bite your lip.

“Fine. I’ll give you another chance, but if you hurt me…I never want to see you again.”

Jaehyun jumps up onto the bench beside you and takes your face in his hands.

He kisses you for a long time, placing his lips on your chin. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I’m so sorry, I’ll never hurt you again.”

You nod.

The two of you went over to your place and made love, you told each other how much you missed being together.

You felt like you could give Jaehyun a chance, it was a mistake and you truly hoped he learned.

————

[A Few Days Later]

Jaehyun receives a few missed calls from Reina. He hasn’t seen her since that night and he doesn’t want to.

“You should be upfront with her, don’t keep her waiting.” You told him as the two of you ate lunch together.

Jaehyun swallows a piece of his sandwich and nods. “You’re right, it’s gonna be difficult to face her, but I have to.”

That night, Jaehyun takes you with him to Reina. You wait in the car as he goes to her apartment. She gives him a big hug after she opens the door, but Jaehyun pulls away quickly.

“Reina..listen..I’m done…I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be Valentine Boy.”

Reina’s mouth falls open.

“Y/n and I are together now so..it’s best if I stop this now..”

“Jaehyun..think about the money.” Reina pleads with knitted brows.

“It’s not worth it, I don’t want to lose her. I’m sure you can find someone else to take my spot or you can do it solo.” Jaehyun shrugs his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Reina’s eyes start to water. “But you said you loved me..”

Jaehyun sighs and turns his head. “Reina, please, I was drunk and thinking of her, you know that. You know that I’m always thinking about her.”

He turns to leave before Reina can say anything else.

He joins you in the car and lets out a loud exhale.

“How did it go?” You ask him.

“Well..She’s not too happy..But it doesn’t matter..She’ll be fine.”

That’s what Jaehyun thought, but he was wrong. Reina was furious and had another plan. She wasn’t going to let him go that easily. She was going to make him regret ever leaving her.

She threw her plate with her dinner on it to the floor and watched the glass scatter.

————

[One Week Later]

You and Jaehyun relax at the park. You hold hands while walking through it and share a triple scoop ice cream cone.

“You’re hogging all the chocolate..” he says before leaning closer to you and attempting to take the cone out of your hand.

“Ah! ah! if you want it, you have to get it from my lips.” You wink and rub some of the chocolate ice cream onto your lips.

“That works for me.” He lays a smooch onto them.

You giggle from the ticklish feeling of his tongue on your bottom lip.

You both sit down on a bench and watch dogs play at a dog park.

“This is nice.” He says before wrapping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. His warmth almost outbeats the sun itself and he smells like fresh apples.

“It is..I love dogs..I wish I could have one here..”

“Do you miss Hazelnut?” Jaehyun asked.

You laughed out loudly and turned to him. “Her name is Peanut.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” His eyes crinkled as he laughed at his mistake.

“But yeah I miss her. You know I don’t get to see her much because my dad took her away when he left my mom. I hope she’s doing well.” You missed your 12-year old poodle dog from home. You thought of how helpful she’d be when you were stressed. You always rubbed her coat when you were at your desk, studying for a difficult exam in high school. She’d sit beside you and look up at you with wide eyes. It was as if she was silently telling you ‘you’ll be okay’.

Then, shortly after you entered your last year, your dad left your mom and decided to take her with him since your mom wouldn’t let him take you.

It was a weird split you thought, but it was what it was. Fortunately, you were old enough to be mature about everything, but the pain of watching your parents split after so many seemingly happy years of unity still hurt you.

“I’m sure she’s doing well, babe.” Jaehyun rubs his hand along your arm.

———-

[A Few Days Later]

You get on the bus that takes you to campus so you can attend your first class of the day. You notice that a few glances shoot your way, while you sit on the bus and look out the window.

Is there something on your face, you wonder.

You pull your phone to look at yourself and surely, there’s nothing on your face. Maybe you were just imagining things.

You finally get to campus and that’s when you notice that more people stare at you. Some look away but some give you a look of disgust that you’re confused by.

Your brows furrow. What was going on?

You look down at your phone when you feel it vibrate in your hand. It’s a text from your best friend.

Bella to You: don’t go to class

She then calls you before you can reply.

“Bella? What’s going-“

“Where are you?!” She yells over the phone.

“I just got off the bus. What’s going on?”

And that’s when you see it. Posters of you posted all over on trees and taped to buildings. Some were the small, some were big and hard to ignore.

Your mouth fell open. They were pictures of you that Jaehyun took. Adult pictures and nudes that you had sent him. The ones you sent him on Valentine’s Day and the ones from Bali. Some were of you hollowing your cheeks around Jaehyun while some were taken from behind you, wrists in handcuffs.

They’re obscene pictures and now everyone has seen them.

Only Jaehyun had access to these photos, how could he do this to you, how could he do something so mean? Your hands start to shake, you run off to the nearest bathroom to avoid any more gazes.

Once in the stall, you unlock your phone and go to call Jaehyun, but you see that you’ve got a new email from one of your professors and…the Dean.

Miss y/l/n,

We have noticed a series of adult rated photos have been placed across campus. These photos were also sent to our emails from your email address. Please see us at 2:30 PM today so we may discuss this. This kind of behavior will not be tolerated. It is not a joke and now housekeeping will have to remove every poster that has vandalized our beautiful campus.

You hold your head as you cry. This couldn’t be happening. They thought you had done this.

You had to call them and let them know that you were being harassed.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun was searching for the perfect puppy for you at the animal shelter.

All of the puppies were adorable, but none of them seemed to be the right fit for you..that was until he got to the end of the line and met the cutest Senior dog.

Her name was Dora and she was a small brown and white corgi with big ears.

“This is Dora, she’s 9 years old, but she’s a great companion, and loves to cuddle while you read to her.” The shelter worker told him.

Jaehyun chuckled at her name. “Dora…the explorer?”

“Yeah, she’s a senior dog so not many people are interested in caring for her. They’re afraid of how much work it’ll be..we can take a look at the other dogs if you’d like or we can-“

“I’ll take her.” Jaehyun smiles.

Dora gave him the widest smile and started to shake the little nub on her bum.

That’s when he knew that she was the one. He knew that Dora would make you so happy. So he adopted her and took her home.

He took her to the pet store and bought her food, treats, toys, two bowls and a bed.

It felt like the two of you were going to raise a child together and Jaehyun couldn’t stop smiling to himself. He was so happy to be with you. Everything felt right.

He waits for you at his place, but as he relaxes into his couch with Dora falling asleep on his chest, he gets a text message with a random link.

Without thinking, he clicks the link and it opens to an anonymous post on the OnlyCams website.

His eyes widen when he sees what it is. It’s a folder with pictures and a video of you.

The one he took of you.

“What the-“ He immediately closes the site and opens his iCloud. He didn’t upload the pictures so who did?

When he sees his log in history, he sees an address that he recognizes and confirms his suspicions.

He dials up Reina and sits up straight, placing Dora down to his side.

“Hello, Valentine Boy.”

“Reina! What did you do?!”

She chuckles over the line. “I did what I had to..”

Before he can get another word out, he feels his phone vibrate as he receives a call.

It’s you.

He hangs up on Reina and answers your call. “Y/n. It wasn’t me, I-“

“You were the only one that had those pictures Jaehyun! Do you think this is some kind of sick joke? Did I do something to you?!” You sob and yell over the phone.

“No, baby, believe me, I didn’t do this! It was Reina..I.”

“So this is why you took that video and those pictures of me, so you could embarrass me in front of the entire school. Well, good job, Jaehyun. Now I have to meet with the fucking Dean! I never want to see you again!” You hang up and slam your phone onto the sink.

“Damn it..” Jaehyun exhales and plops down onto the couch, unsure of what to do next.

————

Part 4 Preview

Reina places the final touches on your lipstick and looks into your eyes. “You look beautiful, y/n. I know it’s your first time, and I know you’re nervous, but it will be okay, just follow my lead.”

She smiles defiantly and tightens the pink collar around your neck.

PART 3.1 | PART 3.2 | PART 3.3 |

[lee-scribbles-and-doodles]

S2 ep5

I'm so pumped!

Asdfff Sam landing on Max and Bosco landing on him

Mr Featherly just knowing they're in the afterlife... because he studied the classics

Aw, Sam actually wants to help Bosco

Oh, a Moleman!

"Serving the finest vegans"

Oh hey, Harry is here

"Aw, cute Max. A little goth moleman."

Harry is death now.

Sam just got cat-called by a moleman

"Ooohee look who can fill out a suit." "Why I never!"

Max is too small to climb the ladder properly so ge has to jump up the rungs 🥺

"You can't see over the wheel, Max." "Facist."

The Desoto died!?

Featherly laid an egg??? Trans featherly???

Max and Sybil are gossip buddies🥰

Ew Sybil and Ave are getting married. 🤢 (Honey date the monster or Superball)

"Cake at a wedding? Ooookay."

Oh, Monster is having a rough time

Aw, Max offered to be the priest at the ceremony 💕 (Sybil declined but still)

Lol, Max has the wrong idea of what a shotgun wedding is.

I can kind of understand Sybil's apprehension at allowing the boys to be part of the ceremony tbh

Ghost Mama Bosco!?

She still looking fine as an old lady tho

She's still after Bosco for wrecking her store (although she still doesn't realize it was her own son)

Aw, she actually wants to see more of Bosco

Flint is still looking for Bosco

Aw, we can give the Ai to Jimmy

Oh no, it woke Maimtron up!

Did we just kill Timmy???

Oh hey, Past Sam. I knew that one cutscene was going to come back.

They sure are making a lot of hell freezing over jokes

Oof the tourette jokes are back. REALLY hope they get swapped out with new jokes in the remaster

Max's big kick before jumping down the manhole

Max landed on Sam's head

The Soul Train is actually cool looking

Jurgen!?

He's being so petty. Why would the boys save him when killed them???

Hugh Bliss!

He's just... staring... with his head on backwards...

"That a list of swear words!" (Proceeds to say every one and gets censored each time)

Brady Culture too. Is everyone here?

"I'm in hell, and I'm happy."

"--But none of that matters because I finally found someone who believes in me: Satan."

Oh hey, the big door had Sam and Msx art on it

Oh, Demon Sam and Max statues

Sam the devourer and Max the destroyer

Bosco's hell is being naked in front of others?

Santa is in hell!

The Desoto is in hell :(

Grandpa Stinky!

Aw, Sam wants to save them all

Sybil still does therapy?

Lol, we can make Bosco scare himself.

"See you around naked Bosco." "I don't think I'll ever stop seeing you." "Save me!"

Imma just take the laughing gas

Santa hates kids haha

Max is allergic to dogs?

The Desoto only goes like 6 mph and only honks :(

"I hope when we die, they put our hells close to each other." "It'll be like a sleepover that never ends!"

Boy it took me a bit to figure out the Santa and Elf puzzel

Let's move on to Stinky

So are Girl Stinky and Grandpa Stinky not related?

I got a book. I think that's all we can do for now until we get Timmy.

Satan won't even give the boys the time of day

Harry is looming over Timmy.

Have to distract him. I guess it's time to put the monster out if his misery.

I feel so bad 😥

Oh, poor Timmy

Welp, back to Stinky's hell

Sam using the karaoke machine 😳

Ok, saved Stinky's soul from internal damnation

Omg it took me way too long to figure out what to do with the laughing gas.

"Vamoose!" *fire's gun*

At least Basco and the Desoto are free

Satan just tricked Sam into trading his soul 😮

Max's ears drooping when he realizes Sam is gone 😭

Noooo! Not Peepers!

Sam's personal hell is a life without Max 👀

Sam's sad walk 😔

Leonard is in a hell closet

"Peepers said he was my partner." "What!? Nobody steals my sidekick!" "I always thought you were the sidekick." "Heh, sure Sam."

"Max, meet demon Peepers." "Oh, hi!" "Demon Peepers says he's my partner and best friend." *Max proceeds to kill demon Peepers*

Omg the Soda Poppers are Satan's bosses!?

Omg do I get to kill them now? Pls let me kill them!

They beat Brady to death!?

They've been planing their rise sins s1 ep1???

They're after the boys because of one bad birthday? What crybaby!

They're firing Satan!

Flint, Bosco, and Mama Bosco cutscene us everything.

Mama Bosco is gone :(

"I did wipe your windshield for you." "Oh, I er, must have left my change in my other suit! Max?" "I'm naked."

Satan's proud of the boys haha

The stripper is the monster

All the men are into it. They're all gay, bi, or pan now you can't change my mind.

Bosco likes to be nude apparently

Mr Featherly doesn't have his vest on!

Abe, you really aren't winning me over

Oh, Timmy is a Poppers fan. Poor child has no taste.

Let's steal Satan's stufg

Let's mess with Hugh

"I hope I won't have to bend over provokedly to--" "That's enough, Max."

Oh wait, I didn't check on Sybil

Ew, Peepers is seducing Sybil.

"I hate to say, but Peepers is kind of sexy." "Ha, if you're into short guys with annoying voices!" 👀👀👀 Max, you just described yourself

Dick Peacock!?

Yay, we saved Sybil!

Whizzer is trying to make Girl Stinky eat the forbidden fruit

Grandpa Stinky is alive!

Awe, the Stinky's are a surrogate family

Culinary dark arts

Oh, that's what the baby book is for.

She's a cake!!!

Aw, Grandpa is upset he turned her into a cake

Oh, I think we were suppose to do the Stinky puzzel before the Sybil one.

Specs is trying to win the C.O.P.S. souls?

Ok, figured out how to save Chippy

Hell yeah, Chippy rocks!

Specs didn't give him the golden fiddle! What a rip!

Ok, time to help the Stinky's! Let's get the boys drunk!!!

Poor Monster 😞

Drunk Abe is showing remorse

Yay! Girl Stinky is back!

Of course we can't just give hell back. Poppers gotta make it difficult

Welp, down into the pits or he'll we go.

Oh hey, the sleigh. Yay for tome travel

We made hell freeze over!

Sam letting Max pick up the phone because they froze he'll over 🥺

Sybil decided to let Max officiate ❤

Oh! I see what we have to do

The Miriachi!

By Popper fucks!

To the wedding!

Still wish she were with Superball

Aw, Sybil looks good in her dress

"Hundred bucks say they don't last three months." Thanks Flint

Max stole the flowers 👀👀👀 Him and Sam gonna get married. That's the only option

Leonard!

Aw, the boys let Abe and Sybil take the car ❤