#my friends used to be like ‘why is he responding to your emails at midnight??’

[interlagosed]

In a different world I definitely fucked one of my former professors/now friend

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Skin | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: mentions of assault/battery, canon violence, canon gore (take care of urselves bbies)

Word Count: 5826

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You and Dean didn’t talk about Toledo. You were back to not talking about much of anything. Your fights had become much less frequent, and when you did fight, it was more playful than malicious. For that, you were grateful. You felt incredibly conflicted about the fact that he was beginning to grow on you. 

‘Like a wart,’ you thought. ‘Or a blister, maybe.’

Whatever he was, he was beginning to chip through your hard exterior. You also found out he hadn’t told Sam what you’d told him about your family which you were surprised by. 

The three of you spent more time on the road than you did anywhere else. When you used to drive cross-country by yourself, you felt yourself beginning to go crazy a few hours into the drive. As much as you loved your alone time, you also craved the company of others. Now that you had it, you weren’t sure how you were going to leave these guys once you found John. 

Dean turned in his seat to face Sam. “Alright, I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight.” 

He didn’t respond.

“Sam wears women’s underwear.”

“I’ve been listenin’, I’m just busy,” he finally answered. 

“Busy doin’ what?” you placed your head on his shoulder over the top of the seat.

“Reading e-mails.” 

Dean had gotten out of the car and began pumping gas. “E-mails from who?”

“From my friends at Stanford.” Sam still seemed disinterested in conversation.

“You’re kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?” Dean asked.

“Why not?” He still hadn’t turned his attention from his phone.

“Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?”

“I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.”

“And I couldn’t make my way into that lie?” you asked. 

“What do I tell ‘em, (Y/N/N)? That we picked up some chick in California and took her on the road with us?” he chuckled. “And I don’t lie to them. I just don’t tell ‘em… everything.”

“Yeah, that’s called lying,” you retorted. “I get it, though, the truth is much worse.”

“So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?”

His older brother shrugged.

“You’re serious?” Sam wasn’t really asking.

“Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period,” Dean responded.

“How many friends do I have, Sam?” you asked him.

“Me.”

“Exactly,” you giggled.

“You two are kind of anti-social, you know that?” He returned to scrolling through his emails.

“Eh, whatever.” You flopped back on the bench seat.

“God….” Sam trailed off.

“What?” you and Dean asked.

“In this e-mail from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine.”

“Is she hot?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Dean—” 

Sam ignored the two of you. “I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack’s been charged with murder. He��s been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.”

“Dude, what kind of people are you hangin’ out with?” his brother questioned.

“No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.”

“Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.”

“They’re in St. Louis. We’re goin’.”

“Look, sorry ‘bout your buddy, okay?” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “But this does not sound like our kind of problem.”

Sam wasn’t having it. “It is our problem. They’re my friends.”

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam.” Dean and Sam got into what you can only describe as a staring contest before Dean scoffed; seemingly admitting defeat. Next thing you knew, you were headed to St. Louis.

***

The massive door on the undoubtedly expensive house you’d arrived at opened to reveal a beautiful blonde girl. 

‘Damn all these pretty blonde bitches we keep running into,’ you thought.

“Oh my God, Sam!” she smiled, throwing her arms around her friend.

“Well, if it isn’t little Becky,” Sam jested.

“You know what you can do with that little Becky crap.”

“I got your e-mail.” His tone had become somber.

“I didn’t think that you would come here,” she answered earnestly.

Dean shoved in front of Sam. “Dean. Older brother.”

‘He’s making his fucking voice deeper again.’

She shook his hand. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she smiled back.

“We’re here to help. Whatever we can do.” You peeked out from behind Sam. “I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Nice to meet you!” You were only mildly annoyed by how wonderful her disposition was. “Come in.”

“Nice place,” Dean commented, taking in his grandiose surroundings.

“It’s my parents’. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I’m gonna stay until Zack’s free,” Becky explained.

“Where are your folks?” Sam asked.

“They live in Paris for half the year, so they’re on their way home now for the trial.”

‘Of course, they fucking do.’

“Do you guys want a beer or something?” she asked politely.

Dean obviously did, but his brother stopped him. “No, thanks. So, tell us what happened.”

“Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing.” Becky began to cry. 

‘She’s even pretty when she cries.’

“So, he called 911, and the police— they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could’ve killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police—they have a video. It’s from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight,” she relayed.

“You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.”

“We could,” Dean agreed, but you could tell he still wasn’t picking up where Sam was going with this.

“Why? I mean, what could you do?” the blonde asked.

“Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop.” Sam patted his brother’s shoulder.

“Detective, actually,” Dean laughed.

“Really? Where?”

“Bisbee, Arizona. But I’m off-duty now.”

“You guys, it’s so nice to offer, but I just— I don’t know,” she said.

“Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent,” Sam replied.

“Okay. I’m gonna go get the keys.”

“Oh, yeah, man, you’re a real straight shooter with your friends,” Dean mocked after Becky had walked down the hall.

“Look, Zack and Becky need our help,” Sam responded.

“I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.”

“Two places at once? We’ve looked into less.”

Dean said nothing, clearly defeated.

***

“You’re sure this is okay?” Rebecca asked Dean as the four of you walked into Zack's house.

Dean clearly was having fun with the whole “cop” thing. “Yeah. I am an officer of the law.”

You hated how smug he could be. Rebecca came inside with you and informed you that Emily had let her attacker in. 

She then informed you about a recent incident that struck you as odd. “Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes— Zack’s clothes. The police— they don’t think it’s anything. I mean, we’re not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed.” In the midst of her story, you could hear a dog barking angrily across the street. Dean peered out of the window, and Becca came up behind him. “You know, that used to be the sweetest dog.”

“What happened?” you asked her.

“He just changed.”

Dean turned over his shoulder to her. “Do you remember when he changed?”

“I guess around the time of the murder,” she shrugged. 

You found Sam staring at a picture of himself, another college-aged boy you assumed was Zack, and Rebecca that was framed in the hallway. 

Dean came up behind you soon after. “So, the neighbor’s dog went psycho right around the time Zack’s girlfriend was killed.”

“Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal,” Sam said.

“Yeah, maybe Fido saw somethin’.”

“So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?”

“Yeah, prob—” you started, only to be cut off by Dean.

“No. Probably not. But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure.”

You shot him a look. “The evidence is staring you in the face, and you still can’t admit you’re wrong.”

He shot a look back at you that said, ‘Don’t try me.’

Before you could push each other’s buttons any further, Rebecca came over to you, and Dean turned his attention to her. “So, the tape. The security footage— you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, ‘cause I just don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.”

How Becky was buying into Dean’s lie, you had no idea. He was really laying it on thick.

“I’ve already got it. I didn’t wanna say something in front of the cop,” she giggled. “I stole it off the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

The three of you went back to Becky’s parents’ home to review the security footage. It was of Zack entering his house, but a strange glint on the film caught your eye.

“22:04,” Dean noted the time stamp, “that’s just after ten. You said time of death was about 10:30.”

“Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape’s authentic. It wasn’t tampered with,” Becky added.

“Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?” Sam asked. 

“Oh, sure,” she replied politely, turning to go to the kitchen.

“Maybe some sandwiches, too?” He was putting on the puppy dog eyes just a bit to convince her. 

“What do you think this is, Hooters?” she snarked.

“I wish,” Dean mumbled. 

“Can you focus, please?” you asked him.

“What are you, my mother?” Your banter was no longer filled with malice, just a hint of aggravation. 

“No, but frankly, the thought of you trying to bang someone makes me want to throw up in my mouth. I’d prefer not to watch it happen,” you replied playfully. “But look.” You rewound the tape an started it over. You caught the glint again, paused it, and realized Zack’s eyes were silver. “There!”

“Well, maybe it’s just a camera flare,” Dean shrugged.

“Does that look like any camera flare you’ve ever seen?” you asked rhetorically. 

He just looked away, defeated. 

“You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul,” Sam chimed in. “Remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack’s, something that looks like him but isn’t him.”

“Like a Doppelganger?” Your brow knitted together, mind trying to wrap around what you were dealing with.

“Yeah. It’d sure explain how he was in two places at once,” Sam said.

Despite the luxurious villa Sam’s friend called home, the three of you didn’t want to intrude on her privacy; opting for yet another shitty motel. Something about this case was bugging you, though, and you tossed and turned all night thinking about it. And then, it hit you.

You pulled on your jacket and boots and rushed over to the boys’ room. A sleepy Dean answered the door. You hated to admit it, but he and his fluffy, mussed up hair were adorable when he’d just woken up.

“Morning, sunshine,” you grinned.

He scratched his head. “(Y/N), what the fu—”

“We have to get to Zack’s house. I just thought of something. “

Sam appeared behind Dean, already dressed. “Whatcha got?”

Dean stepped back from the door, letting you into the room. 

“We saw ‘Zack’ go in, but never saw the killer leave,” you explained. “But of course, we didn’t. Why would the cops be looking for that when they nabbed Zack in his house with his dead girlfriend?” 

Sam was with you, nodding his head.

“Did you have to realize that before five in the morning?” Dean yawned, pulling a pair of pants on.

“Sorry,” you replied sheepishly. “Couldn’t sleep. But I figured that out, so that’s all that matters.”

Dean shook his head and yawned again. “Sam, you’re driving. I might crash my baby if I drive right now.”

***

“He must’ve gone out the back door,” Sam said. You and the brothers were walking toward Zack’s house. “So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue.”

“I still don’t know what we’re doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning,” Dean grumbled.

“C’mon,” you groaned, dragging his arm to follow Sam around the back of Zack’s house. Sure enough, there was a dried, dark red substance smeared on a nearby telephone pole.

“Blood. Somebody came this way,” Sam noted.

“Yeah, but the trail ends,” Dean added from a few paces ahead. “I don’t see anything over here.”

Just as he finished speaking, an ambulance drove past the house with its sirens wailing. You and Sam looked at each other before hurrying back to Dean’s car. Dean followed the ambulance to its destination where a man was handcuffed and being shoved into the back of a police car.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“He tried to kill his wife,” she responded with a hand to her chest. “Tied her up and beat her.”

“Really?” you asked.

“I used to see him going to work in the morning. He’d wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy.” She shook her head sorrowfully and watched as the police car drove away.

The three of you hung around the scene for a while until it had been completely cleared out. You regrouped while you snooped around.

“Remember when I said this wasn’t our kind of problem?” Dean asked as he approached you and Sam.

“Yeah,” his brother answered.

“Definitely our kind of problem.”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Mark it in the calendar, Dean Winchester admitted he was wrong!”

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he retorted.

“What’d you find out?” Sam asked.

“Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex’s story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked,” Dean explained.

“So, he was in two places at once, too.”

“Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house; police think he’s a nutjob.”

You paused for a moment, thinking. “You think it could be a shapeshifter?”

“Something that can make itself look like anyone? Sure,” Sam responded. “Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men.”

“Right, skinwalkers, werewolves,” Dean added. “We’ve got two attacks within blocks of each other. I’m guessin’ we’ve got a shapeshifter prowlin’ the neighborhood.”

“Let me ask you this— in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?” the younger brother asked.

“Not that I know of.” You shook your head. “But someone ran out the back of his house and headed this way. And then… the trail just… ends. Just like at your friend’s house.” You gestured toward Sam.

“Well, there’s another way to go.” You followed Dean’s gaze down to a manhole.

“Ew, gross.” Your face scrunched up in disgust as Sam started to move the manhole cover. 

The three of you quickly climbed down so as to not be seen. 

“I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too,” Sam said as the three of you made your way down the tunnel. “The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.”

You were leading the group, and stopped suddenly when you noticed a pile of blood and skin on the ground. “Blegh, look!”

“Is this from his victims?” Sam looked equally as disgusted.

Dean pulled out his pocket knife and lifted a piece of the skin off the ground. “You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape, maybe it sheds.”

“That is sick,” you affirmed.

He dropped the skin back to the ground and turned to you to wipe his knife off on your jacket.

“Ew, dude!” you shoved his arm. “What the fuck?”

He just laughed in response.

You and the boys headed back up to the car to load up with some weapons.

“Well, one thing I learned from Dad—” Dean began, riffling through the weapons cavity, “—is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it.”

“Silver bullet to the heart,” you chimed in.

He nodded and handed you a case of the bullets. 

Sam’s cell phone rang. “This is Sam… We’re near Zack’s, we’re just checkin’ some things out… What are you talkin’ about?”

He seemed caught off-guard. You thought he was talking to Rebecca, but had no idea why she’d be upset with you. You eyed Dean who shrugged.

“Why would you do that?... Bec— We’re tryin’ to help… Bec, I’m sorry, but—” And then he clapped his phone shut, looking disappointed.

Dean found it an appropriate moment to be a bit of a dick. “I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked. It’s just—it’d be easier if—”

“If I was like you guys,” he replied quietly. 

“Sam, I’m not trying to be heartless, but Dean’s kinda right.” Both brothers seemed surprised you were agreeing with Dean for once. “We’re not like other people.” 

“But I’ll tell you one thing.” Dean’s lighthearted tone was back. “This whole gig— it ain’t without perks.” He held out a gun to Sam, whose face was still crestfallen.

You followed Sam and Dean back down the manhole, gun loaded with silver bullets. You carried the case of bullets Dean handed to you in your inner jacket pocket; just in case. After a few minutes of trudging through toxic sludge with baited breath, you noticed another pile of blood and skin on a pipe next to Sam’s head. “I think we’re close to its lair,” you told them.

“Why do you say that?” Sam asked. 

“Because there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face,” you snickered. 

“Oh, God!” His face scrunched up in disgust.

There was another pile of clothing and rotting skin a few paces ahead of you. 

“Looks like it’s lived here for a while,” you heard Dean say from behind you.

You turned to face him as you spoke. “Who knows how many murders he’s gotten away— Fuck, Dean!” you cried, seeing the shapeshifter in the form of its last victim behind him. 

Dean wheeled around, only to be knocked to the ground by the smirking creature. You and Sam rushed to his side as the creature sped off. 

“Get the son of a bitch!” Dean commanded. 

The three of you sped down the tunnel and followed him out of the manhole. You couldn’t see where exactly he ended up, and you decided to split up. 

Under the cover of night, you headed down streets and alleyways with your gun hidden inside your jacket. You came to a stop at a dead end and wheeled around at the sound of footsteps behind you. The shapeshifter, still in the form of the businessman, knocked you out cold before you were even able to raise your gun at him. 

***

The next time you came to, you felt itchy bits of rope binding your hands, feet, and neck to a cold, metal post behind you. As your vision began to clear, you could see you were in some kind of a dark, dingy room. It seemed like a house, but you weren’t entirely convinced. You heard what sounded like the older brother’s voice coming from behind you.

“Dean?” you called.

“(Y/N), it’s not—” Sam shouted, but cut himself off with a groan.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” he smirked, leaning down to your eye level. He put a hand next to your head on the post. 

You turned your face away from him, straining against the rope. He even smelled like Dean. 

“You are one fucking trainwreck,” he said, searching your face. 

You eyed him curiously. He just laughed coldly in response. “The more I learn about you, the more fucked up you get.”

“What do you mean ‘learn’?” 

As if on cue, the shapeshifter held a hand to his temple, grunting in pain. After a moment had passed, he spoke again. “You made a big mistake telling him— I mean, me— about what you did to your family. If I wasn’t ready to get rid of you before, I sure as hell am now. I hope you’re tellin’ the truth about leaving the second we find Dad, ‘cause I don’t know how much longer I can put up with you. God, from your voice to your personality, you aggravate the livin’ crap outta me.” The shapeshifter leaned back down in front of your face, the two of you only inches away from one another.

“You’re a burden, (Y/N). You’re exhausting to be around. I constantly have to keep my guard up around you. I can’t trust you, not after what you told me in Toledo. How do I know you won’t turn on me and Sammy?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you kept them at bay. You instead reared back as much as you could and spat in his face. You had taken him by surprise, but his hand was around your throat in an instant. His lips were inches away from your ear and he squeezed your neck just tight enough to where you were beginning to see stars. “You fucking bitch. Y’know, take your voice and personality away, Dean would definitely wanna fuck you. He thought you were hot the first time he met you. Then he actually got to know you, and, eh, things changed. But I’m sure he’d have tons of fun with Sam’s little friend Becky.” A wicked grin spread across his face. “I think I’ll go pay her a visit.”

He released your throat and you sputtered and coughed when he did. He covered you up with a tarp moments later. You felt pathetic, but you let your tears flow freely now that he was gone, wiggling around to get the tarp off your head. 

“(Y/N), are you back there?” Dean called from somewhere you couldn’t see. 

You knew he hadn’t said those hurtful things to you, but it was still difficult to hear his voice. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” Your voice was still shaky from crying. “He went to Rebecca’s, lookin’ like you.”

“Well, he’s not stupid. He picked the handsome one,” Dean gibed at his brother.

You admired his ability to keep his snarky attitude and stupid jokes despite his circumstances. His confidence bewildered you at times.

You pulled at the ropes binding your hands, hissing when you felt the rope creating angry brush burns on your wrists. 

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He didn’t just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you,” you heard Sam tell Dean.

“What do you mean?” the older brother asked.

“Yeah, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories,” you told him.

“You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?” 

You giggled. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Maybe that’s why he doesn’t just kill us,” Sam added.

“Yeah, he probably needs to keep us alive. Some kind of psychic connection— ah,” you yelped at the feeling of the rope aggravating your wrists again. The shifter had bound you unbelievably tightly.

“(Y/N), stop, I’m coming to help you,” Dean instructed. 

“I’m a big girl,” you replied sassily. “I can do it.”

Dean had made his way over to you. “Do you have to fight me on everything?” He untied your hands with ease and began working on your neck. 

“Yes, but thank you,” you told him. You still couldn’t look him in the eyes after what the shifter had told you. You were doing your best to keep your exterior steely. You couldn’t deny, though, that his tight-fitting gray t-shirt over rippling muscle and the way he’d helped you were starting to break down your walls a little. 

“Come on, we gotta go,” you heard Sam order from behind you. “He’s probably at Rebecca’s already.”

Dean pushed a window out of the building you were kept in and the three of you climbed out. 

Sam started down the street. “Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean stopped him. “You’re gonna put an APB out on me.”

His brother shrugged. “Sorry.”

“This way.” Dean led the three of you down the street. You ran shielded by the darkness until you reached a store window. There was a display wall of televisions in it, and the news was on. Conveniently, Dean was the breaking news.

“An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End—” the reporter stated, “—where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home.”

Of course, Dean’s attitude was unwavering. “Man! That’s not even a good picture.”

You looked around nervously. 

“It’s good enough,” Sam said.

“Man!” Dean grumbled, following Sam down the street to an alleyway. 

“They said attempted murder,” you pointed out. “At least we know—”

“I didn’t kill her.”

You nodded.

“We’ll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she’s all right,” Sam said, looking over his shoulder.

“Alright, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him.” 

‘He’s still as arrogant as ever.’

“We have no weapons, though. No silver bullets,” you countered. 

“Sweetheart, the guy’s walkin’ around with my face, okay, it’s a little personal, I wanna find him.” He turned to face you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I get it. We need guns, though.”

“The car?” Sam threw in. 

“I’m bettin’ he drove over to Rebecca’s.” Dean’s face began to heat up. You knew he was thinking about his precious Impala.

“The news said he fled on foot. I bet it’s still parked there.”

“The thought of him drivin’ my car—” he whined.

You shook your head. “Come on.”

“It’s killin’ me,” Dean whined again.

“Let it go,” you and Sam commanded over your shoulders.

The three of you rounded the corner along a tall hedge only to be greeted by the sight of the car.

“Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight.” Dean’s joy was almost contagious.

His stupor was broken by a police car appearing down Rebecca’s street and blocking the end of the road. 

“Fuck.” You spun around the way you came, but another cop car appeared back down that street, too. 

“This way, this way,” Dean began leading you over to a fence and easily climbed atop it. 

“You guys go. I’ll hold ‘em off,” Sam told you.

“What are you talking about? They’ll catch you.” Dean turned into a seated position on top the fence.

“Look, they can’t hold me. Just go, keep out of sight. Meet me at Rebecca’s,” Sam quickly spoke. 

You and Dean hopped over multiple fences, fatiguing your limbs quickly. Several blocks from where you and the boys had run into the cops, the two of you stopped to catch your breath. You sat down on a street corner and tucked your knees into your chest.

Dean sat beside you. “What did he say to you?”

You turned to him. “Huh?”

“The shifter. What’d he say to you?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, it’s fine—”

“(Y/N), you haven’t looked at me once since we left that thing’s hideout. Tell me what he said.”

“Why can’t you drop it?” you spat, looking down at your boots.

“Because,” he protested. “I gave you a chance to explain in Toledo. At the very least, you owe me that.”

You sighed. “He said you think I’m annoying. And, um, a burden. He said you’re trying to find your dad so quick to get rid of me. And that you can’t trust me because of what I did to my family.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “Anything else?”

“He said everything about me aggravates you and that I exhaust you.”

He nodded. “Do you really believe that?” You could feel his gaze burning holes into the side of your face.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “You haven’t exactly proven otherwise to me.” You looked up at him for the first time in hours.

He seemed surprised by that answer.

“Don’t look at me like that. Aside from Toledo and a few seconds on that plane, all we’ve ever done is fight,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” A few moments of silence passed before he spoke again. “But I don’t think those things about you. Honest.”

“I feel like I’m pulling teeth here, Dean,” you remarked. “What do you think of me?”

“I mean, you can be annoying.”

You scoffed, but a smile tugged at your lips. 

“And you’re way too stubborn.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And so are you.”

“And you’re too smart for your own good.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“Would you let me finish?” he deadpanned.

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You just… you intimidate me a little, honestly.” Now Dean was the one who couldn’t look at you.

You were shocked. “Really? Why?”

“Dammit, (Y/N), I’m not good at this,” he sighed. “I know you heard what I said to Haley about that being the most honest I’ve ever been with a woman.”

You giggled at the memory.

“This tops that by far,” he admitted.

You nodded. You’d have this conversation another time. You rose to your feet, and he followed suit. 

“Can we start over?” you asked him.

He eyed you curiously.

“As… acquaintances, I mean,” you explained. “We’re no closer to finding your dad than we were the day I met you, so I imagine I’ll be around for a little while longer. I’d rather us not fight the whole time. It’s getting exhausting, if I’m being honest.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess we can do that.”

“Okay, then.” You cleared your throat and stuck out your hand. “Hi. I’m (Y/N).”

Dean shook his head at your antics despite the smile pulling on his lips. “Dean.” This time, he actually shook your hand.

***

Later that morning, you and Dean had returned to the car for weapons. Thankfully, Dean still had some silver bullets left in the trunk. With guns in hand, the two of you headed back to the sewers. A few minutes into your walk, you came across a rancid pile of flesh, teeth, and fingernails.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Your face contorted in disgust. You looked up when you heard a rustling noise a little down the tunnel. You could see a dim glow from the place you’d heard the rustling. You tightened your grip on your gun and let Dean lead the way into the chamber. He nodded his head in the direction of the left side of a figure covered in a tarp at the back end of the chamber, indicating for you to go that way. You followed his instruction and crept up on the figure with him. He pulled the sheet away from the figure, only to reveal Rebecca.

“What happened?” you asked her. Her hands and feet were bound, her mouth was gagged, her hair was a mess, and her skin was littered with bruising and cuts. 

She was still shaking and crying as she spoke. “I was walking home, and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don’t know, how is that even possible?”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay,” Dean told her. 

The two of you untied her and made sure she was able to walk before guiding her out of the sewers.

“We’ve gotta hurry,” Dean said. “Sam went to see you.”

When you got to Rebecca’s house, all you could hear was the grunting, furniture breaking, skin hitting skin, and bones cracking coming from the living room. And then, choking. You had no doubt it was Sam.

Dean seemed to pick up on that as well. He hurried into the den, shouting, “Hey!”

The shifter spotted Dean and got off of Sam. Dean shot twice, and with that, the shifter was dead. 

You rushed over to Sam and cradled his head in your lap. “Are you okay?” you asked him. 

He smiled painfully at you. “Peachy.”

You giggled at him. You looked up at Dean standing over… Dean… and watched as he ripped his necklace off the shifter.

You watched Rebecca say goodbye to Sam, and she waved at you and Dean who stood by the Impala. She turned to go back inside her house.

Sam approached the two of you.

“So, what about your friend, Zack?” Dean asked his brother.

“Cops are blamin’ this Dean Winchester guy for Emily’s murder,” Sam jested. “They found the murder weapon in the guy’s lair, Zack’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon.” 

You giggled. Dean just rolled his eyes. 

“Get in the car, (Y/N),” he chastised you. For the first time since you met him, you knew he wasn’t trying to tear you down. It was refreshing to have an amicable relationship with him.

As Dean tore down the road, he turned to his brother. “Sorry, man.”

“About what?”

“I really wish things could be different, you know?” the older brother said earnestly. “I wish you could just be… Joe College.”

“No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in,” Sam admitted.

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak,” Dean quipped.

You loved earnest moments between the two brothers. It made you feel normal; in a weird way.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam said dryly.

“Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way.”

“Yeah, I know you are.” Sam’s voice softened.

“You know, I gotta say. I’m sorry I’m gonna miss it.” 

You felt one of Dean’s stupid jokes coming on. “Oh, here we go.”

He eyed you in the rearview mirror. 

“Miss what?” Sam asked.

“How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?” Dean smirked.

You shook your head. “And there it is.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 6 -Skin

Series Masterlist

Y/N's POV

The boys and I pull up to a musty old gas station to fill baby up. "Alright, I figure we hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south...be there by midnight..." Dean looks over to Sam and we notice Sams focused on his phone and he might not be listening, "...Sam wears women underwear" Dean adds and I snicker while playing Sudoku on the newspaper.

"I've been listening, I'm just busy" Sam says and I peer over in the backseat to take a peek at who he's texting. "Busy doing what?" I ask as Dean gets out of the car. "Reading e-mails" Sam says. "Emails from who?" Dean asks. "From my friends at Stanford" Sam responds.

"You're kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?" Dean asks amused as he picks up the gas pump. "Why not? He kept in touch with me when he went to Stanford" I pipe up. "Well..." Dean says as he puts the pump in the tank, walking back to the side of the passenger seat. "...what exactly would he tell them?" He says to me. "You know? About where you been, what you been doing?" Dean finishes, talking to Sam.

"I tell them I'm on a road trip with my big brother and my childhood best friend. I tell them I needed some time off after Jess" Sam says shrugging. "Oh, so you lie to them" Dean says causally. "No. I just don't tell them...everything" Sam defends. "Hate to break it to ya Sammy, but that's called lying" I say ironically, leaning back into the backseat.

"I mean, hey man we get it. Telling the truth is far worse" Dean says chuckling. "So what am I supposed to do? Just cut everyone out of my life?" Sam asks and Dean shrugs. "You're serious?" He asks. "Look, it sucks but..a job like this, you can't get close to people. Period" Dean says chuckling.

"Don't you agree with me Y/N?" Dean asks me and I turn to Sam "As much as I'd hate to admit it man. He's got a point. I mean. I don't keep in contact any of my high-school friends or old lovers due the nature of this job" I give my opinion and I notice Deans eyebrow cock up at the word 'lovers'. Sam shakes his head in disappointment at this.

"You're kind of antisocial, you know that?" Sam retorts to Dean and I snicker at this. "Dean? Antisocial? Have you seen him at happy hour when the cougars are around, ready to dig their claws into some fresh white cub meat" I throw my head back laughing and Sam chuckles. "Shut it, nutcase" Dean grumbles at me. "Make me, asshat" I counter, winking at him and he smirks at me.

Sam looks back down back at his phone and mutters shocked "God". Dean peers his head in the passenger side window and I lean forward to look over Sams shoulder. "What?" Dean asks. "This email from this girl Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine" Sam says. "She hot?" Dean asks intrigued and I roll my eyes.

"I went to school with her and her brother Zach. She says Zach's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says 'he didn't do it but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case' ". Sam explains. "Dude, what kind of people you been hanging out with?" I ask surprised and he shakes his head.

"No man. I know Zach. He's no killer" Sam defends. "Yeah, well. Maybe you know Zach as well as he knows you" Dean says ironically. "Jesus man, that's cold" I say and Dean shrugs. "They're in St. Louis. We're going" Sam turns to Dean and he chuckles. "Look, sorry about your buddy, okay? But, this doesn't sound like our kind of problem" Dean says and I cut him off.

"It is our problem, They're my friend" Sam says firmly. "St. Louis is 400 miles behind us Sam" Dean exaggerates. "We've driven further for less, Dean. Let's just go and if it's not our kind of deal, we split" I try to reason with him, coming to Sam's defense. Sam shoots me a grateful smile not before hitting Dean his classic puppy dog eyes whenever he wants to get his way. Dean just sighs and gets in the Impala, turning around to make our way to St. Louis.

________________________________

Now in-front of Sam's friend Rebecca's house. He knocks and almost immediately she opens the door, a smile plastered on her face. "Oh my god. Sam" She says happy. "Well if it isn't little Becky" He smiles back and I almost immediately notice the enticed look on Deans face when he sees Becky.

I'll admit, she's pretty hot, blonde. Exactly Dean's type. Everything I'm not...wait, why am I wondering if I'm Dean's type? Ugh, whatever.

"And you know what you can do with that 'little Becky' crap" She retorts back before hugging him. "I got your email" Sam says when they break the hug. "I didn't think you'd come here" She says shocked. "Dean. Older brother" Dean cuts in, putting his hand out to shake hers. "Hi" She says. "Hi" He says back with his usual shit eating grin on his face.

"Y/N, childhood best friend" I push Dean aside lightly, putting my hand out to shake hers. Dean grumbles a bit at this but I ignore it. "Hi, Y/N" She says to me smiling widely. "We're here to help. Whatever we can do" Sam says to her. "Come in" She invites us in.

"Nice place" Dean compliments her house as I wolf whistle checking it out. "It's my parents. I was crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I'm gonna stay until Zach's free." Rebecca tells us as we're walking in. "Where are your folks?" I ask.

"They live in Paris for half the year, so they're in their way home now for the trial" She explains to us. Damn, must be nice. "You guys want a beer?" She offers us. "Hey" Dean says gratefully. "No thanks" Sam cuts in and Deans face drops. "So, tell us what happened" Sam asks her, leaning on the kitchen island.

Rebecca sighs, "Well...um...Zach, he came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing, and so he— He called 911 and the police, they showed up and— And they arrested him" She explains to us, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"But the thing is, the only way that Zach could have killed Emily is if he was two places at the same time." She continues and me and the boys look at each other. "The police, they have a video. It's from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zach coming home at 10:30. Now Emily was killed just after that but I swear he was here with me having a few beers until at least after midnight" She explains fully.

"You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zach's house" Sam suggests. "We could" Dean says. "I mean, why? I mean, what could you do?" Rebecca's asks. "Well, me, not much. But Dean and Y/N are cops." Sam says and Rebecca looks over at us shocked. Me and Dean chuckle before I turn to her. "Detectives, actually" I say and Dean grins cockily at my choice.

"Really? Where?" She asks curiously. "Bisbee, Arizona" Dean says nodding and I nod as well. "But we're off duty now" Dean says and Rebecca hesitates. "You guys, it's so nice to offer, but I just— I don't know" She says unsure. "Beck, look, I know Zach didn't do this." Sam says, sympathizing with her. "Now, we have to find a way to prove that he's innocent" Sam reasons with her.

She looks over to us and we smile at her. "Okay. I'm gonna go get the keys" She agrees and leaves the room. When she walks off, Dean wolf whistles checking her out, "Well, you're a real straight shooter with your friends" Dean says. "Look, Zach and Becky need our help-" Dean cuts Sam off. "I just don't think this is our kind of problem" Dean exaggerates again.

"Two places at once? Like I said, we've looked into less" I counter and Sam nods. Dean sighs, giving in and agreeing.

________________________________

A little later we're over at the crime scene. We all jump out of the Impala and Rebecca asks. "Are you sure this is okay?" Clutching her sweater to her chest. "Yeah. We are officers of the law" Dean lamely says and I internally roll my eyes as we walk over to the house. This man has no game. How he gets women? I will never know.

Opening the door, the scene is not pretty. Blood everywhere you could think of. I turn to Rebecca after seeing the state. "Hun, you wanna wait outside?" I ask her gently. She shakes her head and steps in, under the police tape. "No, I wanna help" She says walking inside, clutching her hands to her chest. "Tell us what else the police said" Sam says to her.

"Well, there's no sign of a break in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers, they're already talking about plea-bargain" She tells us tearfully. "Oh god" She gasps tearfully, looking at the scene. "Look Beck, if Zach didn't do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?" Sam asks her calmly while shakes her head then she realizes something.

"Um, there was something. About a week before, somebody broke in here. They stole some clothes. Zach's clothes. The police, they don't think it's anything. I mean, we're not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed" Rebecca explains to us tearfully. I hear a dog barking outside.

Me and Dean open the door to see a big brown labradoodle barking aggressively at the door. Rebecca comes behind us and says. "You know, that used to be the sweetest dog" She says as the dog is growling at us. "What happened?" Dean asks. "He just changed." She says shrugging.

"You remember when he changed?" I ask. "I guess around the time of the murder" She says, me and Dean share a look at this sighing. Turning back to walk inside to the kitchen. There Sam is by the fridge, looking at a picture of him, Rebecca and Zach. "Do the neighbors dog went psycho right around the time Zach's girlfriend was killed" Dean tells Sam.

"Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal" Sam says. "Yeah, maybe Fido saw something" I say and Sam's eyes narrow at his brother. "So you think maybe this is our kind of problem?" He asks Dean knowingly. "No, probably not. But we should look at the security tape" Dean still denies, causing me and Sam to shake our heads.

"You...." I clap my hand on his shoulder gently. "...Are one stubborn bastard" I chuckle ironically and Sam says, "Yeah" while Dean huffs, rolling his eyes as I take my hand off his shoulder. Rebecca comes back into the kitchen and I ask her. "So, the tape, the uh security footage? You think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it? See we just don't have that kind of jurisdiction" I tell her.

"I've already got it. I didn't wanna say something in-front of the cops" She admits, nodding her head towards me and Dean. We chuckle at this. "I stole it off the lawyers desk. I just had to see it for myself" She says to us. "Alright" Dean says happily to me and Sam, gesturing for Rebecca to make her way out, he walks out and he follows behind her.

Sam looks at the picture with him and his friends sadly and I rest my hand on my best friend's shoulder comfortingly. He turns to me sighing, his head dropping a bit. "We'll find whoever did this to your friend, Sammy" I give him a small smile, trying to reassure him. He just nods and sighs. "We better" He says.

________________________________

We're all now back at Rebecca's house, reviewing the security tape. "Here he comes" Rebecca says, pointing at the tv is a clear video of Zach at, "2204, that's just after 10. You said time of death was 10:30" Dean indicates, sitting on the handle of the couch Rebecca is on, while Sam and I stand, looking at it intently.

"Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with" She tells us and I notice something flash in Zach's eyes on the screen, I nudge Sam with my elbow lightly to see if he saw it too. He nods and turns to Rebecca. "Hey hun, can we take those beers now?" I ask causally smiling. "Yeah sure, no problem" She smiles at me, getting up to get the beers.

"Hey...uh...maybe some sandwiches too?" Sam adds and she smiles. "What do you think this is, Hooters?" She says chuckling. Dean looks at us suspiciously when we do this as it's completely out of character for us. Dean chuckles at her Hooters comment. "I wish. What is it?" Dean asks us, getting up from the couch to move closer.

"Check this out" Sam says, rewinding the security footage to when Zach turned his head to the camera. There, is a silver flash in his eyes. "Maybe it's just a camera flare" Dean suggests but I shake my head. "That's not like any camera flare I've seen before" I say and Sam nods in agreement. "You know a lot of cultures believe a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul" I say.

"Right" Dean says and I continued. "Remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing" I suggest. "Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zach's, something that looks like him but isn't him" Sam adds. "Like a doppelgänger" Dean adds. "Yeah" Sam says and I nod. "That would sure explain how he was in two places at once" I say as we look at the screen.

________________________________

Early the next morning. Sam wakes us up to go back to the crime scene at Zach's house. We're at the back. Coffee in Deans hand and cigarette in between my fingers. Me, Dean and Sam exit the Impala, shutting the door behind us. "Alright. So, what are we doing here at 5:30 in the morning" Dean asks annoyed as I scratch my head and yawn.

"I realized something. The videotape shows the killer going in but not coming out" Sam says. "So he came out the back door?" I ask taking a drag from my cigarette, squinting my eyes from the harsh light coming from the sun while Dean takes a sip of his coffee "Right. So there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue" Sam says, walking across the street, around the side of the dumpster.

While I lean against the front bumper of baby, Dean says. "Because they think the killer never left. They caught your friend Zach inside" Dean leans on baby next to me. "I still don't know what we're doing here at 5:30 in the morning" I grumble annoyed as I another drag and letting it out. Dean nods agreeing with me.

"Aww does the Princess need her beauty sleep?" His tone is teasing, pouting jokingly at me while I take a drag. I give him a side glare and I roll my eyes. "You need it more than me, charming" I tease back, winking at him and letting out the smoke as he scoffs. "Who pissed in your coffee?" He chuckles when I pointed to Sam in annoyance.

My eyes trail down his face as he drinks from his cup. The way his lips wrap around the little opening in the lid. He catches me staring and smirks. "Not a word" I huff and he puts his hands up in surrender chuckling. We look over to see Sam staring at the wooden post right across from the dumpster.

"Blood. Somebody came this way." Sam says from across the street, nodding towards it with his head. "Maybe the trail ends. I don't see anything here" Dean says and I second that. "Me neither" I say shrugging. We hear sirens from a ambulance in the distance. It comes rushing down the street we're on and we all look at it past by.

The boys and I share a knowing look. I sigh and toss my almost burnt out bud on the ground, crushing it with my boot before we all jump in the Impala and follow behind the ambulance.

________________________________

Couple blocks over we get out of baby to scan the scene. Cops are putting up police tape and the place is crowded. "What happened?" I ask a woman who's onlooking the commotion. "He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her" She tells us. "Really?" Sam says as shocked as we are.

"Yeah. I used to see him going to work in the morning. He'd wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy" She says sadly as we look at the police escort a man in handcuffs to the squad car.

________________________________

Sam and I decide to go to the back of the building to see if there is anything of significance. We see some large blue trash bins and begins opening them. "Hey. Remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem" Dean calls out to us as we walk back out. "Yeah?" Sam says.

"Definitely our kind of problem" Dean says a little excited. "Finally you're on board. What'd you find out?" I ask as I stick my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket. "I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, who heard this guys Alex's story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked" Dean explains and it clicks.

"So he was two places at once?" Sam beats me to it. "Exactly!" Dean exclaims. "Then he sees himself in the house. Police think he's a nut job" Dean adds. "Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way" I start, walking a bit forward, turning back to the boys.

"Could be the same thing doing it too" Dean suggests. "Shapeshifter?" Sam asks questionably and Dean shrugs. "Something that could make itself look like anyone" Sam adds. "Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. Legends of creatures who transform themselves into animals or other men" Dean gives us the rundown and I nod.

"Right. Skinwalkers, werewolves.." I give examples trailing off. "We got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessing we've got a shapeshifter problem" Dean says. "Let me ask you this: In all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?" Sam asks us, walking forward and looking up at the building.

"Not that I know of. You?" Dean says, then turns to me asking and I shake my head. "I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out of the back of this building, headed off this way" Sam says. "Just like your friends house" I say. "Yeah. And just like at Zach's house..the trail suddenly ends" Sam says.

"I mean, whatever it is just disappeared" He said confused and something clicked in my head. I look down and Dean nudges me. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" He asks me. "Yeah, I think so. There might be another way to go" I look up at Sam, nodding towards the sewer hole behind him.

He grimaces. "Aw come on!" He groans while me and Dean chuckle.

________________________________

We all climb down the drainage, closing back up the hole. Looking around it's a dark long corridor. "I bet this runs right by Zach's house too" Sam says. "The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around" I say as we walk towards Dean who's flashing his flashlight in a dark corner.

"Look at this" He says with a grimace on his face, stooping down to the ground. Infront of us is a pile of what looks like human skin, blood, hair and slime. It's all mushed into a gooey guck that smells like a rotting corpse.

"Oh gross" I gag in disgust. "Gimme your butterfly knife" Dean puts his hand out and I reach into my combat boots, pulling out the knife and handing it to him. He flicks it open, picking up a hair strand that's drenched in the slimy substance. Sam groans in disgust behind me. "Is this from his victims?" He questions and something crosses my mind.

"You know. I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape....maybe it sheds" I say and Dean coughs from the repulsive thought. "That is sick" Sam says, the grimace on his face deepening.

________________________________

Now back above ground. I turn to Dean asking him. "Yo. You got silver bullets?" I ask him and he nods. "Yeah, right here in baby" Dean opens the Impala trunk and takes out the silver bullets and I pull out my revolver.

"One thing I learned from Dad. No matter what kind of shapeshifter it is. There's only one sure way to kill it" I say, taking the silver bullets one by one and loading it. I look over to Sam who has a smirk on his face. "Silver bullet to the heart" He says, his dimples showing. "That's right" I say smiling. "Atta girl princess" Dean says proudly, patting the small of my back.

My heart leaps at the way he praised me and I feel a knot tie in my stomach when he touched my back. I cover it up with a smile and Sam's phone rings. He walks off to answer it. "This is Sam....We're near Zach's, we're just checking out some things" he says into the phone and I assume it's Rebecca.

"What're you talking about?" He asks confused and then sighs after a couple seconds. "Why would you do that??...Beck.... " He tries to defend and his face drops. "We're trying to help" He says sadly and Dean and I look at each other like 'oh shit'.

I can hear Rebecca's angry voice slightly but couldn't make out the words. "Look Beck I'm sorry but-" and then takes the phone off his ear. "Go easy on him" I whisper to Dean. "Nope" He says back and I roll my eyes before we close the trunk and walk back to the side of the car where Sam is.

"I hate to say it, but that's exactly what I'm talking about" Dean starts and I internally facepalm. Sam doesn't look at us. "You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you they'd be freaked" Dean finishes his lecture. "It's just- It'd be easier if-" I go to add but Sam cuts me off. "If I was like you two" He says sadly.

"Hey man, like it or not, we are not like other people" Dean says with a small smile on his face. "But I'll tell you one thing though, this whole gig..." I start, pulling out a gun with silver bullets and handing it to Sam. "..it ain't without perks" I say smugly, earning a chuckle from both boys. Sam takes the gun and sticks it behind his pants and we walk back down the block to make way back into the sewer.

________________________________

The dirty mucky water splatters at our feet as we walk through the sewers, flashing our lights through the empty hallow dark tunnel. After a few minutes of walking down the drainage. I spot a pile of skin on a pipe next to Sam and I nudge Dean, shining my light at it.

"I think we're close to its lair" I say. "Why do you say that?" Sam asks. "Cuz there's another puke-inducing pile next to your face" Dean  indicates and Sam flinches. "Oh, God" He gasps in disgust and me and Dean snicker at this. I shine my light a little lower, revealing more skin, blood, gunk and old clothes on the ground.

"Looks like he's lived here for a while" I say. "No kidding Sherlock" Dean retorts back sarcastically, groaning and I roll my eyes at him. I cover my nose using my shirt to block the stench but it doesn't really help. "Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with" Sam says.

He turns to us, flashing the light behind us and yells "DEAN! Y/N!" And I feel a sharp pain behind my head, knocking me to the ground. Dean falls beside me, clutching his left shoulder as Sam shoots at the shapeshifter who attacked us but misses.

I moan in pain from the sudden attack. "Get the son of a bitch!" Dean groans in pain, holding his shoulder. I'm still on the ground, dazzled from the pain. Dean holds me up, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. "Come on, princess. I've got you" He says gently, helping me up and we bolt out of there.

We crawl out of the sewer hole. Grunting as we get out. Dean let's me up first and I take his hand to help him out. "Come on, charming. I've got you" I repeat his words to him and he gratefully takes my hand. "Alright. Let's split up" Sam says to us.

"Alright, I'll meet you guys on the other side. Stay together okay?" Dean instructs us and I nod curtly. "Be safe" I say quickly. "Ditto" He winks at me and we go in separate directions. Sam and I walk down the crowded street, concealing our weapons, looking for the shifter.

After some time, we come up empty. Now at a street corner. "Hey" We hear Deans voice behind us. "Anything?" He asks us and I shake my head. "No, he's gone" I say disappointed. "Alright, let's get back to the car" Dean says and we all make way back to Baby.

"You think he found another way underground?" Sam asks. "Yeah, probably. You got the keys?" Dean asks. "Hey, didn't Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?" Sam asks Dean suspiciously. "No. It was Austin. It turned out not to be a shapeshifter. It was thought form. A psychic projection, remember?". Dean says casually.

"Oh, right." Sam says shaking his head and chuckling. "Here you go" He throws the keys to Dean who caught his with his left shoulder....oh no. We walk back around the side of Baby as 'Dean' opens the trunk.

"His shoulder was hurt" I whisper to Sam, nudging him. "I know, that's why I threw it at his left" He whispers back. "You thinking what I'm thinking??" He asks me still whispering. I nod, "That ain't Dean" I say. We draw our guns and rush over to the trunk where 'Dean' was leaning down over it.

"Don't move you slimy bastard!" I yell, pointing my gun at 'Dean'. "What have you done with him!?" Sam demands as he points his gun at 'Dean'. He puts his hands up in surrender, taking a confused look. "Guys, chill. It's me alright" He says.

"No. I don't think so. Where's my brother!" Sam demands. "You're about to shoot him". 'Dean' retorts, gesturing to our guns. "Guys calm down" He tries to reason. "You caught those keys with your left. Your shoulder was hurt!" I tell him, knowing he was lying.

"Yeah, it's better. What do you want me to do, cry?" 'Dean' says sarcastically. "You're not my brother" Sam says wearily and I cock my gun, hesitant to shoot. "Why don't you pull the trigger then? Hmm? Because you're not sure. Guys, you know me." 'Dean' says and I hesitate. "Don't" I grit my teeth at him.

In a flash, he knocks the gun out of both of our hands. I feel another sharp pain in my head and everything goes black.

________________________________

My eyes flutter open, a throbbing pain in my head. My vision is slightly blurred but I open my eyes to see Sam. "Sammy?" I groan, my voice raspy from the pain. I feel a dampness on my legs, my neck is tied to a post, my arms bounded behind me. We're back in the sewer, captured by Deans evil twin, great.

Sam's across the room from me passed out, tied exactly like me. Sam eventually comes to, groaning in pain like me. I see movement behind Sam, only it's Shapeshifter Dean. He walks up to Sam with a straight face, ropes in his arm. He back hands him across his cheek and I scream. "DONT TOUCH HIM YOU SLIMY BASTARD!" Trying to rip out of my binds but it's expertly tied.

Sam grunts in pain taking a deep breath. "Where is he??" Sam asks the imposter. "Where's Dean you face stealing freak!" I yell angrily. Ready to maul the son of a bitch if he hurt Dean. "I wouldn't worry about him. I'd worry about you" Shapeshifter Dean says, turning to me.

"Same goes for you, Princess" He winks at me, smirking and I grimace. "Where is he?" Sam asks again. "You really don't wanna know" The Shapeshifter says morbidly, chuckling. "I swear, the more I learn about you two and your families...I thought I came from a bad background" Shapeshifter Dean says ironically.

"What do you mean learn?" Sam asks as the shifter pulls out a knife, examining it. The shifter starts holding his head, cringing and grunting as if he's in pain. He then turns back to Sam, a slight smirk on his face. "He's sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home" He taunts Sam, walking towards him and dropping his bag.

"I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don't think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?" Shapeshifter Dean says irritated but Sam isn't letting up. "Where...is my brother?" Sam demands again. "I'm your brother" Shapeshifter Dean says, leaning down to eye level with Sam.

"See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. And sooner or later, everybody's gonna leave me." Shapeshifter Dean says, walking a bit back. "What are you talking about?" Sam asks. "You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me too. No explanation, nothing, just. Poof. Left me with your sorry ass" He walks towards Sam.

"But still, this life...it's not without its perks" Shapeshifter Dean repeats my words from earlier. "I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky, seeing as Dean is so convinced he doesn't have a chance with Y/N and is so stupid to not even admit his feelings for her to himself. He would bang little Becky if he had the chance" Shapeshifter Dean says and I freeze, my heart feels like it's gonna fall out of my chest.

What the fuck? Is he high or something? He's got to be lying. Demons do it to weaken their targets. Surely shifters do it too because he was just taunting Sam. Sam looks over to me quickly and Shapeshifter Dean turns to me.

"And sweet sweet little Y/N.." He coos, striding over to me. "He has quite the thing for you..I mean me. Gotta admit though, I've got amazing taste in women" He crouches down and rests his hand on my cheek, which makes me feel physically ill.

"Don't touch her!" Sam shouts protectively and I nod at him to ensure him I'm fine. I move my head away from him but he just comes closer to me. The smile on his face makes my stomach churn and not in a good way.

"You are the package deal. You're sexy, smart, snarky, and funny. You know how to keep me on my toes, challenge me. You make me laugh in any situation despite how stressful it is. Hell, I hate to admit it but you keep me in line whenever I'm acting like the dick I am" He chuckles at the last part, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"Sometimes I'm even a bit jealous at the friendship you have with Sammy....But the way you would look at me sometimes, your flirty little comebacks, the way you would sway your hips when you walk, the sight of you on that bike of yours....oh mannn....gets me going everytime" He licks his lips looking at me with a lustful gaze and I feel a chill run down my spine in disgust.

"Jesus dude, at least by me dinner first" I sneer at him and he chuckles. "See? That's the snark I'm talking about" He says, smiling at me and rubbing his thumb on my bottom lip. "Where.Is.Dean?" I grit my teeth at him. "I'm right here baby" He says huskily and I groan.

"I remember how stoked I was when you didn't hesitate to come with us to find my dad...then your daddy went missing too...tsk tsk tsk...poor thing" He says sympathetically, clicking his tongue.

"You grew from this adorable shy timid girl who was afraid of her daddy to this beautiful confident badass women who stood her ground against her controlling father and left..." He trails off as if he's recollecting something, then he roughly grabs my hair, pulling it harshly causing me to wince in pain.

"LET GO OF HER YOU DICK!" Sam yells from across the room, trying to rip out of his bindings. "Did you know when you ran away, your dad had me looking for you for months!" He shouts in my face. "Hauled my ass from Washington to Florida and back!"

"You should've never run away you little bitch" He seethes through his teeth pulling my hair more making me cry out in pain. "You're lucky I covered for your ass every single time, I knew exactly where you were and I had to lead him away every time because I was trying to be a good friend!". He grits his teeth in anger

"You did me just like Sam and walked out when I needed you most! Sam left and then you! God you two are selfish" His tone is pained, betrayed. And I snap, a sick thought crossing my mind but I'm too angry to care right now if he kills me or not.

"Well let me make it up to you" I say suggestively, flashing him a coy smile. Hes fully taken back at this. My eyes flicker to Sam and. I can see his expression go from angry to confused from across the room. A clear look of shock is evident but a sickening smirk on Shapeshifter Dean's face.

"And how would you do that, princess?" He says huskily. I could see Sam's face contorting to disgust across the room, confused and angry. "Lay a kiss on me charming, you wouldn't regret it" I wink at him, smiling seductively.

"You're kidding?" He says surprised, chuckling, his grip loosening on my hair. "No jokes" I grit my teeth, trying to hide my disgust. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" Sam yells from across the room.

Shapeshifter Dean's eyes flicker down to my lips, when leans in to kiss me, just as his lips is centimeters away from mine. I hawk up a loogie, spitting it in his face and draw my head back instantly, head-butting him in his nose.

"YOU BITCH!" He screams in pain. He holds his nose, stumbling back. When he recovers, he draws his fist back, right hooking me in my face, hard. "STOP IT!" Sam pleads begging. I turn my head back to Shapeshifter Dean, laughing, a victorious grin on my face. The metallic taste of blood and saliva coating my taste buds.

"Fuck you, you even punch like a bitch. That's to show you'll never be Dean" I sneer at him, spitting the blood out from my mouth on the ground besides me. He groans in pain, grabbing a tarp covering Sam who's yelling at him. He then grabs another to cover me but before he does, he looks at me and says. "I can't wait to kill you" and I smirk.

"Look at me good. Remember this face clearly. Cuz I'll be the last thing you see when I put a bullet in your head, you skin shedding, goopy son of a bitch!" My tone is deadly as I seethe through my teeth. "Well...if it ain't working with you...let's see how it works out with Becky" he winks at me. Covering me with the tarp.

Sometime later, the tarp slips off me and I see Sam struggling. "You okay?" He asks concerned. I shrug, blood still dripping from my mouth. "I can take a punch" I chuckle weakly, trying to slip out of the bounds. "Damn it" Sam grumbles. "Can't get out either" I tell him. We hear a bit of movement and someone coughing. "That better be you, Sam and Y/N and not that freak of nature" Dean voice echos through the sewer and I chuckled sighing in relief as Sam laughs.

"Yeah, it's us. He went to Rebecca's, looking like you" Sam says grunting as me and he try to get out of the ropes. "Well, he's not stupid. He picked the handsome one" Dean says smugly and Sam looks back offended. I chuckle lightly at this. He sure did.

"That's the thing, he didn't look like you. He was you...or he was becoming you" Sam says to us as we try to get out of the ropes. "What do you mean?" Dean asks. "I don't know, it's like he was downloading your thoughts and memories" Sam says.

"You mean like the Vulcan Mind Meld" Dean asks. "Yeah, something like that. Maybe that's why he doesn't just kill us?" Sam says. Dean gets out of his ropes and goes around to Sam saying, "Maybe...he needs to keep us alive for the psychic connection" He says untying Sam. "Yeah, come on, we gotta go. He's probably already at Rebecca's" Sam says.

Dean comes around and unties me. He notices the blood on my mouth. "Jesus, what did he do to you Princess" He asks gently when he notices my busted mouth. He holds my face in his hands, worry etched on his face. "I'm good charming" I smile at him, reaching up to hug him. "Let's go fellas" I say and we all get out of there.

"Come on, we gotta find a phone. Call the police" Sam says to us as we climb out of the hole, leading us to an alleyway. "Whoa whoa whoa. You're gonna put an APB out on me?" Dean says, helping me out. "Sorry" Sam says shrugging. "This way" Dean leads us down the alley.

A little later, after Sam made the phone call to the police, we're on the street infront of a shop with TVs showing the local news, with a crappy sketch of Dean. "An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End where a SWAT team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately 24-30 years old was discovered hiding in the home. Shots were fired-" The reporter says but Dean cuts it off saying, "Man, that's not even a good picture!" He exclaims. "It's good enough" Sam says as I shake my head and we walk back down the street.

"If you ask me, I think the bastard was talking a pack of bullcrap to throw us off. Like what demons do" I suggest and Sam cocks his eyebrow at me. "It didn't seem like it Y/N. He had certain memories only Dean should know" Sam says and I huff.

I don't look him in the eye because I already know where he's getting at. As much as I would love to believe what that shifter said as Dean is true. It couldn't be. Can it?

"Why don't you think he was lying?" Dean asks and I shake my head, Sam looks over at me urging. "He just said a ton of crap, that's all" I say. "And he tried to kiss her" Sam interjects. "He what!?" Dean yells pissed. "Relax!" I put my hand in his shoulder.

"I hawked a loogie in his face and head-butted him in the nose with my forehead" I say and Dean grins proudly. "Atta girl" He says proudly, patting my cheek and my heart leaps. He needs to stop doing that I swear.

We walk further into an alley way and Dean almost trips on a puddle of water and it splashes on him, "Come on!" He yells. "They said attempted murder. At least we know-" Sam says and Dean cuts him off. "I didn't kill her" Dean says."I'll check on Rebecca in the morning , see if she's alright" Sam says.

"Well first I'm gonna find that handsome Devil and kick the holy crap outta him" Dean says aggressively. "I might just beat you to it" I growl, still pissed about what happened down there. He looks me over a bit shocked but it seems like he understands why I'm pissed.

"Guys. We have no weapons, no silver bullets" Sam tells us. "Sam, the guy's walking around with my face AND he tried to kiss Y/N. It's a little personal. Okay? We wanna find him" Dean turns to Sam irritated. Sam just nods, "Okay. Where do we look?" Sam asks. "Well we could start with the sewers" I suggest." We have no weapons. He stole our guns. We need more." Sam reminds us.

"The car?" I say. "I bet he drove over to Rebecca's" Dean says. "The news said he fled on foot. I bed it's still parked there" Sam says. "Oh the thought of him driving my car" Dean growls. "Alright, Hulk Hogan. Come on" I say patting Deans back as we walk back down the alley. "Its killing me" Dean says angrily. "Let it go" Sam shoots back.

________________________________

After some time of walking, we end up a few blocks from Rebecca's by foot. "There she is" Dean breaths out a sigh of relief after seeing Baby. "Finally, something went right tonight" Dean says happily as we walk towards baby. Suddenly a squad car comes around the corner, sirens wailing.

"Oh crap" I mutter and the boys and I run down the alleyway. Only to be cornered by another car at the end. "Whoa whoa whoa" Dean says surprised. "This way! This way!" Dean leads us out and we follow behind him running.

We come up to a wall. "You guys go. I'll hold them off" Sam says and I nod. "What're you talking about?!" Dean exclaims. "They'll catch you!" I yell at Sam. "Look. They can't hold me! Just go, keep out of sight! Meet me at Rebecca's" Sam order us and we sigh scaling the walls. "Dean. Y/N! Stay out of the sewers alone!" Sam shouts and we jump over, now on the other side

"I mean it!" Sam yells. "Yeah yeah!" I shout back irritated. Dean looks at me trying to catch his breath. "What're you thinking about?" I ask him after seeing the look on his face. "You know me princess, I can't wait" He says smugly and I sigh. "Fine let's go. We'll wait for it to clear out and get baby" I say.

"You can't-" He starts but I cut him off. "Don't you dare Winchester. I'm coming. End of discussion. We protect each other right?" I say firmly and he smirks at me. "Damn straight" He grins.

________________________________

When the sun comes up, me and Dean head back down to the sewer. Trudging through the tunnel there's piles of skin littered all over. We come up to a corner where there's candles lit and a bunch of chains. We hear some movement and I nudge Dean.

"This way" I say and he follows behind me. We see what looks like someone covered with a tarp like what me and Sam were covered with. Dean pulls it off and it reveals, "Rebecca?" We say shocked. She's all bloody and busted up. Her hair scattered all about. "What happened?!" I ask her as me and Dean untie her.

"I was walking home and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me" She explains shakily, tears drenching her face. "How is that possible?!" She asks sobbing. "Okay. Okay. It's okay. Come on. Can you walk?" Dean tries to calm her down and she nods.

"Okay. We gotta hurry okay hun? Sam went to see you" I tell her and she grabs onto us. We get her out of the sewer and into Deans car.

________________________________

Me and Dean pull up to Rebecca's house and bolt out of Baby. We knock her door down, just in time to see the shifter as Dean ontop of Sam in the middle of the living room choking him. "Hey!" Dean yells. Both of us aiming our guns at him. The shifter stumbles off of Sam, looking at us like he's ready to attack.

I don't give him time to and I shoot twice, right in his chest and he launches backwards into the wall, dropping dead. I don't notice Rebecca come behind us through the door. "Sam" she says concerned, running over to check on him.

Me and Dean walk closer slowly towards the dead shifter and kneel next to him, listening to make sure he's dead. I pull Deans chain that he stole that was around his neck and hand it to Dean. He gives me a grateful smile and wraps it in his hand, I smile back at him and look over back to the dead shifter.

"Told you I'd be the one to kill you" I growl angrily.

________________________________

The next day, we're outside parked waiting for Sam to finish talking to Rebecca. Dean's leaning of Baby's hood checking a map for our next hunt. While I'm bracing on her, smoking a cigarette. He comes and sits next to me, judging me a bit.

I look over to him and smile. "You okay princess?" He asks me concerned and I just look down and nod. "I'm fine charming" I smile at him reassuringly. "I don't know what he said to you, but whatever it was, don't let it get to you" He says calmly, placing his hand on the small of my back comfortingly.

I look into his eyes and notice it softened a bit. Wondering if what that shapeshifter said could be true. Does Dean have a thing for me?

"I won't. I promise" I say smiling at him, flicking my burnt out cigarette to the side. His eyes pierce mine and I gulp a bit. I could've sworn he glanced at my lips again but our heated gaze is cut off by Rebecca and Sam coming of of the house. "So this is what you do. You, your brother and best friend, you hunt down these kinds of things?" Rebecca says and Sam chuckles.

They have a short conversation before they hug. She waves at us. Me and Dean wave at her back before she walks in and Sam sighs walking towards us. "So what about your friend Zach?" Dean asks. "Cops are blaming this Dean Winchester guy for Emily's murder" Sam says to us ironically.

"They found the murder weapon in the guy's lair..Zach's clothes stained with her blood. Now they're thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah Becca says Zach will be released soon" Sam says to us nodding and smiling.

"Hate to be that guy" I joke and Dean rolls his eyes at me as we jump in his car.

________________________________

As we're driving down the empty road. Dean turns to Sam. "Sorry man" He says. "About what?" Sam asks. "I really wish things could be different you know, I wish you could just be...Joe College" Dean says apologetically. "It's okay" Sam says causally taking a deep breath. "You know truth is, even at Stanford, deep down. I never really fit in" Sam says.

"Well, that's cuz you're a freak" I pipe up jokingly from the backseat and he turns to me smiling. "Yeah thanks" He says sarcastically laughing. "Well, I'm a freak too. And so is Dean." I shrug smiling, Dean looks at me in the rearview mirror and winks. I try to hide my blush but I'm sure he noticed. "And we're right there with you all the way" Dean adds supportively.

"Yeah, I know you are" Sam nods smiling. "You know, I gotta say, I'm sorry I'm gonna miss it" Dean says. "Miss what?" Sam asks. "How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?" He jokes and I laugh along with Sam.

________________________________

Authors Note:

This is unedited so I'm sorry if there's alot of mistakes. Hope whoever is reading enjoys. Thank you!☺️

Xoxo

[teaberrii]

Chapter Four: Hi, Neighbour

Alhaitham has the looks and the smarts. He will also be the stand-in CEO for his grandfather's company for a year.

But, he's been mysteriously cursed to turn into a cat every night since his eighteenth birthday… until he meets you, an employee at his grandfather's company, who rescues him as a cat and changes him back with one kiss.

Alhaitham/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on AO3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

You're usually the one responsible for your sleepless nights. Like that time when you were nervous about giving your first solo presentation in school. Or, the time you stayed up way too late for your first project early in your career, wanting to perform well as one of the team's youngest members. You rarely lose sleep because of other people. Well, it seems like Alhaitham just loves to surprise you.

It's already midnight, and you can't stop thinking about what happened today.

“Wait… You two know each other?” Kaveh gasped when you and Alhaitham exchanged a look. “Don’t tell me you’re the soulmate!”

“...The what?”

“Don’t bring up that nonsense,” Alhaitham warned.

Kaveh coughed. “Well, soulmate or not, it’s not every day you get to live across from a CEO.”

Alhaitham shot his friend a deadpan look, and Kaveh innocently looked in the other direction.

“You’re… a CEO?”

Alhaitham assumed you haven’t looked at that official welcome email. Otherwise, you would know. While he knew which department you were in, he didn’t go to see you. Though, sometimes, he’d thought of you barging into his office and demanding an explanation of why he was here. It was a ridiculous scenario, but it kept him entertained. Little did he know, it was those moments where he’d subconsciously smile.

He kept to himself that he knew you and left it up to fate to decide whether he’d accidentally bump into you in the hall or somewhere nearby. Turned out fate had other plans.

Alhaitham didn’t get a chance to respond when Kaveh said, “Uh huh! At Sumeru Entertainment! He’s still a newbie, though.”

“Um, are you okay?” It was the voice of your real estate agent that snapped you out of it. “You just turned pale.”

“At… at where did you say?” you asked.

“Sumeru Entertainment.”

Alhaitham’s voice wasn’t helping.

“I… I work there," you finally said.

“You do?” Kaveh gasped. “Oh, my God! That’s… what a small world!”

“I know.”

Silence.

Alhaitham… knew? Since when? How did he know? Could it be from your conversation with Lumine? But, you never said where—

“I saw you,” Alhaitham continued. “...At the marketing department.”

The marketing…? Oh. It must be from that time.

“Ooh, did something happen?” Kaveh asked.

“I, uh, it’s getting late,” you finally said. “I need to go.”

You scream into your pillow. But then, you look up.

No. Who cares if he’s your CEO? It’s not like you have any direct connection. But the thought of living across from him is…

Your head hits the pillow again. Wait a minute. You look up. Why should Alhaitham influence your decision on whether to buy the place or not? You love the apartment. It's closer to your work. The neighbourhood is nicer. Transportation is also much more convenient. There are too many pros. And the thought of giving that up just because Alhaitham will be your neighbour makes you scoff.

You sit upright.

You made your decision. You’re going to make an offer. You’re going to move in… and it’s not because you also partly want to prove a point.

◆◆◆

“Ooh, I got it! What if the guy is actually an alien?”

Later that week, you’re brainstorming with your team on project ideas, writing them all down on the large smart table in the meeting room. But, this idea… it’s interesting and has potential.

"Okay," you say, looking at the many ideas scribbled on the notepad. "We have enough ideas to work with. Let's start narrowing them down."

“How are we going to do that?”

A knock comes at the door. As soon as it opens, you see your manager… and Alhaitham.

"Oh, please don't mind us," your manager says. "I bumped into Alhaitham earlier, and he was interested in learning about the creative process behind our films and dramas." Your manager smiles. "I knew you were having a creative meeting with your team today, so I thought we could listen in."

It's the first time you've seen Alhaitham since that day. Now that you know he's the new CEO, you've been mentally preparing yourself to bump into him in the hallway or at a restaurant nearby. There's no way he's going to catch you off guard. You almost scoff. Again, this man just loves to surprise you.

Still, you need to become accustomed to this; soon, he will be your neighbour. That's right. You closed the deal on the apartment just yesterday.

"I hope we're not interrupting," Alhaitham says. You watch him walk to the opposite side of the table; your team members instantly make room for him. "All of these look like great ideas." His eyes look from the screen to you. "How do you narrow them down?"

You don't want to overthink and say that he's testing you. Regardless, you welcome the challenge. "I like to start with the ending." You put your hands on the table. "Knowing how the story ends will help write scenes to achieve that ending." You smile slightly. "It'll also help with sequencing."

As he listens to you talk, Alhaitham sees the same sparkle in your eyes he saw that day at your house when you looked at him as a cat. It's easy to tell that you love what you do; the passion in your talk says it all. People also glow differently when talking about something they love. Alhaitham has seen it. But, there's something about you that draws him in. He can't take his eyes off you, but what scares him is that he almost doesn't want to.

Looking up, you see Alhaitham staring at you, and your mind almost goes blank. Perhaps it's the way he's looking at you. Attentive. Focused. But there's also something else. Curiosity. Maybe he's taken more of an interest in what you're saying. Regardless, you're suddenly losing the words on your tongue.

“Um, yeah, so… that’s it,” you finish. You almost want to bang your head against the wall for that eloquent ending.

"It was easy to follow your train of thought," Alhaitham says. "It was logical, and I understood why you would do things a certain way." Then, he smiles slightly, and your heart almost skips a beat. "I learned a lot."

You sigh softly once he and your manager leave.

“Were you nervous?” You look at your colleague, who’s smiling. “It’s rare to see you get nervous, boss.”

You hope it doesn’t happen again… around Alhaitham, that is.

You leave a little early to meet your mother at your new place on the same day. It's still empty as you've scheduled your move to be on the weekend to avoid clashing with work. When you told your family you sealed the deal, they were all thrilled. Though, your mother just had to add that it would be even better if you were moving in with a guy. But, you let it slide.

“Hey, mom.”

“This place is beautiful,” she says, walking inside the lobby with you. “It must’ve cost you a pretty penny.”

"Well, I think I got a good deal after I negotiated."

In the elevator, your mother spends a little time catching you up on what's been happening at her café. Opening a café has always been a dream of hers. So, when she retired as an accountant, she took the plunge and opened one in the city's business district.

“You look exhausted,” you say worriedly. “Why don’t you rest for a little bit? I’m sure the part-timers can handle themselves for a day or two.”

"I know they can. They're good kids. One of them is going to graduate from university this year." She looks at you. "It's hard, though. I'm sure you know."

You know. It’s difficult for you to take a day off when it’s not an official holiday. Work is constantly on your mind. But you’re still young. Your mother, on the other hand…

You unlock and open the door to your new place, allowing your mother to step in first. She takes a look around just as you close the door behind you.

“It’s nice, right?” you ask.

You and your mother chat about the place for a while, and then she changes the topic to the one you’re dreading.

“Lumine told me she gave you the pamphlet.”

“...She did. I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“Mom,” you groan. “Do you even have to ask? I think it’s obvious.”

“The men this time—”

“It’s not about the men!" You sigh. "I’m honestly really happy right now. I’d rather be happy myself than be in an unhappy relationship.”

Your mom gives you a look. “Who said I want you to be in an unhappy relationship? I know you’re happy, dear. But I want you to be happier. Some memories… some feelings can only happen when you have someone around you.”

“I’d rather have it happen naturally,” you mutter.

“But you have to try!”

That's the thing. You don't want to. It's not like you never had suitors after your horrendous breakup. But you turned every single of them down… for years. Your mom never understood why, and you always used the same excuse. You didn't like them. You just weren't interested. When one guy went as far as to treat you like a literal queen, some of your friends called you "incredible" for turning down such a great guy. But you couldn't date him. Not when the demons of your first relationship still haunted you like no tomorrow.

“Mom, please… can we talk—”

"I don't want you with just anyone, so I specifically signed you up for this event. They're worthy of being with a strong woman like you."

You wish you could just disappear.

Your mother opens the door and walks out. “Go to that event.”

“No. I don’t—”

The elevator doors open, and Alhaitham walks out. You instantly stiffen as he makes eye contact with you… and then your mother. When Alhaitham gives you a small smile, your mother slowly turns to you with a raised brow.

“Hey, neighbour," he says.

Is that your new nickname now?

“...Hi, neighbour.”

It’s… strange calling your CEO that, but maybe it's better than Catboy.

Alhaitham smiles at your mother. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

“My… it’s nice to meet you!” Your mother instantly turns to you. “Are you two friends?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Alhaitham look at each other. What is he talking about? You aren’t friends!

“He’s my neighbour,” you say. "If that wasn't obvious already."

Your mother turns to Alhaitham. “How did you two meet? Here?”

How will Alhaitham respond? You’re a little curious.

“She helped me when I got hurt.”

Your eyes almost turn wide. He isn't going to tell her about the cat incident, is he?

“She was very kind to let me stay with her,” Alhaitham continues, and your jaw almost drops.

Your mother instantly turns to you. “He stayed with you?”

“It’snotlikethat,” you say, your words coming out so fast that even you had trouble understanding what you just said.

“But we got into a little fight, and she kicked me out.”

Your mother looks back at him, and you give him a pointed look. He’s asking for it.

“A fight, you say?” she asks.

"It was me in the wrong." This takes you by surprise. "I shouldn't have overstayed my welcome." Then, Alhaitham looks you in the eyes. "But, I'll always be grateful for her kindness during my time of need."

He's making you feel too many emotions at once, and it must stop.

“Mom,” you say, “I’ll walk you down.”

“Oh, but I haven’t gotten his name yet!”

"Alhaitham." You shoot him a deadpan look, which he returns with a ghost of a smile. Then, he says to your mother, "It's a pleasure to meet you, auntie."

You don’t think it can get any worse, but your mother also loves to surprise you.

“Are you single?”

“Mom!”

“...I am.”

Well, you have one of your secret questions answered, at least.

“Oh, my daughter is, too! I keep telling her to go to a matchmaking party, but she’s as stubborn as always.”

“Mom,” you say loudly. “I really think you should get going. It’s late.”

Your mother sighs. “Fine, fine.”

You meet Alhaitham’s eyes just as he says, “Goodnight, neighbour.”

“...Goodnight.”

This is definitely not how you’re expecting your evening to go.

◆◆◆

Over the next few days, your mother’s been asking you more about Alhaitham. So much that even your siblings now knew about him.

"So, you got a sparkly new place and a hot neighbour?" Lumine had asked. "I wish I had your luck, sis."

“What does he look like?” Aether had asked. “I’m so curious.”

That was only one out of the many questions.

What does he do? What's his family background? Morals? Values? You couldn't answer them as you barely knew him. You thought about letting your family know that he's your CEO, but you weren't sure what path that would lead. So maybe it was best to pretend you didn't know anything for now.

You've just finished lunch, and you're talking with your mother in an empty meeting room when she brings up Alhaitham… again.

“Mom, it’s not good to keep talking about other people, you know.”

“But I’ve been thinking… someone that handsome is bad news,” she says. You almost choke on your water. You’re still coughing when you hear your mother say, “But… I didn’t get a bad vibe from him.”

“What kind of vibe did you get from him then?” you deadpan. Then, before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Catty?”

“No, far from it! He was very polite.”

Not the definition of catty you’re going for, but… it’ll do.

“Is… he the reason why you’re not going?”

“To what? That matchmaking party?” You roll your eyes. “It’s not the first time I told you no, mom. It’s not because of him. I just don’t want to go.”

"Well, you have such a great catch living across the hallway from you."

“A great catch?” you ask incredulously. “You barely know him! What if he’s a crazy psychopath?” You really hope that’s not true.

“I trust my gut instinct. He really doesn’t seem like a bad guy.”

“Yeah, well, let me dash your hopes right now. Actually, he’s—”

Knock. Knock.

The door opens, and you see one of your colleagues.

“Hey. We have this room booked.”

“Oh, sorry,” you say, standing. Then, as you walk out, you say into your phone. “I have to get back to work. Let’s talk later.”

◆◆◆

Hours later, Alhaitham gets off another call and rubs his tired eyes. Is this the life of an executive? Just meeting after meeting after meeting? Then, just as he's about to return to work, he hears a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opens, and his secretary walks in, holding a black and white suit wrapped nicely in plastic.

Alhaitham is about to ask when his secretary says, “Your grandfather asked me to pick this up for you for the awards night next week.”

“Appreciate it.” Alhaitham gestures to the couch. “You can put it there for now.”

"He… also asked me if you're bringing someone," he says, putting the suit neatly on the couch.

“...To the awards night?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see why I would."

“In that case, he’d like you to take Layla with you.”

There's a name he hasn't heard in a long time. The daughter of one of the wealthiest family-owned companies in Sumeru… and an old family friend. While he and Layla have been friends for a long time, they lost contact when she moved away for university. Is she back?

“She’s coming back to open a subsidiary company under their name,” his secretary continues. “Your grandfather would like the two of you to get back in touch again.”

There’s obviously a motive, and Alhaitham isn’t going to fall for it.

"I'm sure she'll be busy readjusting. The last thing she needs is to attend an award show that has nothing to do with her."

“...I’ll relay the message.”

"You can also tell him to talk to me directly. No need for you to get involved with this." Alhaitham looks at the clock. "...It's late. Let's head back."

In the elevator, Alhaitham isn't expecting it to stop on your floor. When the doors open and you see each other, he holds your stare until you walk inside.

“Oh, hi, Alhaitham.” Alhaitham turns to Childe, who walks in after you with a smile.

Alhaitham stands behind you as he watches you and Childe make some casual conversation.

“I still haven’t thought about what to get Zhongli for his wedding,” Childe sighs. “Any ideas?”

“Aren’t you two supposed to be close?” you ask.

“What did you get him?”

Oh? Are you going to Zhongli’s wedding, too?

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, come on,” Childe groans. “Don’t be like that.”

“Yeah, well, deal with it.”

Childe gently nudges you. “I can keep a secret.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Let it go, Childe.”

“Never.”

Alhaitham clears his throat. You slowly look over your shoulder and see him staring at Childe. “She already said no.”

“Ah… yeah.”

It's the first time you've seen Childe speechless, and you look back, hiding a small smile.

The doors open, and you step out. As you and Childe walk together, you expect to see Alhaitham walk in another direction or past you, but you never do. Does this mean he's still behind you? You want to look, but you have no idea how to make it look not obvious. Maybe just a—

You gasp when you bump into a large man holding a hot drink that splashes on your clothes. You're still recovering from what happened when the man glares at you.

“Sorry,” you begin, “I—”

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Why are you yelling?” Childe asks.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Me? I’m—”

“Watch your language.” Everyone turns to Alhaitham, who’s walking toward you.

It looks like the man recognizes him as he stiffens.

Alhaitham takes out a napkin from his suit and gives it to you. “...Are you okay?”

You take it. “...I’m fine."

“With all due respect, this woman is the one who bumped into me,” the man huffs.

As you dab the stain on your clothes, Alhaitham removes his jacket and drapes it around you. You stop and look up, catching a glimpse of his worried stare before he glares at the man. Everyone in the lobby is looking at you now, and you just want to disappear into a black hole.

“She already apologized,” Alhaitham says. “There’s no need to yell.”

The man grumbles something and walks away.

“...Thanks for that,” you say. “I’ll clean this and give it ba—”

“We need to get you out of those clothes.”

Alhaitham's voice is so quiet and low that you think you imagined it. But then, you see the warmth in his eyes, and you almost melt.

“We wouldn’t want you getting sick,” he continues.

…Right. Of course. Where is your mind wandering to?

Chapter Five

End notes: I couldn't tag some people, but this story usually updates twice every week. Just so you know. :)

Tag list: @lordbugs @suoshiii @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @sakiimeo @ashtree-and-the-cats @ceylestia @forsh4dow @aalastors-blog @deathkat657 @kalpie @elernity @sentieence

[slootpoot]

Longhorn - Chapter One

01 | Since the Beginning Longhorn Masterlist

You’ve been with the boys for… a while. 

You were with Dean when he tracked down Sam in Harvard; mainly because you couldn’t say no when he appeared on your doorstep, face drunkenly red, blubbering about how his father is gone. 

You were there when Sam lost Jessica, comforting him when Dean didn’t know how to. 

You were there every time they thought they were getting closer to finding John, only to be hundreds of miles farther. You were there when they felt abandoned. 

You’ve been there since the beginning. Since Dean was in high school, jumping from cheerleader to geek. He even tried with you one time, only to be shot down with a loud, thundering laugh to his face. 

So, yeah, you’ve been stuck with these two lumberjacks for a long, long time. 

You’re sat in the backseat of the Impala, back against the door and your legs stretched out in front of you (shoes off, of course. Dean would lose his shit otherwise). With a book comfortably on your lap, you’re sipping on your milkshake Sam bought for you while the boys chat about the case up front. 

You’re all stopped at a gas station to fill up while they talk. 

“Alright,” Dean starts, staring at the unfolded map in his hands. “I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight.” He looks over to see Sam staring at his PalmPilot, brows furrowed. Dean throws a playful glance at you through the rearview mirror. “Sam wears women’s underwear.” 

A smile curls your lip as Sam responds. “I’ve been listenin’, I’m just busy.” 

“Busy doin’ what?” Dean scoffs, peering at the screen before he steps out of the Impala and begins filling up the tank. 

You adjust, placing your bookmark and closing the book. Your chin rests on the back of the front bench sit as you listen. 

“Reading emails.” 

“Emails?” you echo. “From who?” 

“Friends at Harvard,” he mumbles back. 

Dean scoffs. “You’re kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies.” 

You shrug. “I still keep in touch with some people from high school.” 

“Johnny still want to get in them pants of yours?” 

“Yes, Dean, Johnny is still the same asshole.” 

“See?” Sam says, thumb jutting out in your direction. “Why wouldn’t I keep in touch with my friends from college?” 

“Well…” Dean slides back into the drivers’ seat, closing the door with a grunt. “What exactly do you tell ‘em, Sammy? You know, where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?”

Sam shrugs. “I tell them I’m on a roadtrip with my big brother and family friend. Say that I needed some time after Jess.” 

The atmosphere in the car dips, but Dean keeps going. “Oh, so you lie to ‘em.”

“No. I just don’t tell them everything.” 

“That’s lyin’, Sammy,” you chirp, leaning back into your seat. Your milkshake lays empty in your hand, but you don’t dare rest it on the ground or, god forbid, the seat. “I get it, though. Lying is better than telling the truth. I can’t tell you the last time I told a normie anything close to the truth.” 

That’s what you’ve always called them - normies. The people that don’t know the truth that lays lurking in the shadows. The people that have a peace of mind, can go to bed at night without nightmares of waking up with a blade to your throat or a gun to your head. 

The car goes silent for a second. You tap Dean’s shoulder with the cup to motion him to throw it away for you. He’s back in the car when Sam starts muttering. 

“What?” Dean queries, leaning closer to the passenger side despite Sam leaning farther and farther away. 

“There’s an email from a girl, Rebecca Warren, from college.” 

“Is she hot?” 

You smack Dean upside the head with your hardcover book. He yelps, ducking, when you ask, “What did she say?” 

“Her brother, Zack, who went to school with us, was charged with murder. He was arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.” 

“Dude,” Dean chortles. “What kind of people are you hangin’ out with?” 

“No, man,” Sam sighs, shaking his head. “I know Zach. He’s no killer.” 

“Sammy,” you start. “Maybe you don’t know Zach that well. It has been a while since you’ve seen him.” 

He ignores you. “They’re in St. Louis. We’re goin’.” 

Dean chuckles. “Look, man, I’m sorry about your friend and all, but this doesn’t sound like our kind of problem.” 

“No, Dean, it is. They’re my friends.” Sam gets that look on his face, the one that says the stubborn bastard isn’t going to back down. 

“Sam, St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us.” 

They exchange a look before Dean sighs and starts the ignition, rolling out of the gas station. 

“If we’re going to St. Louis,” you start. “I’m going in the arch. Sam is going with me, because I am not getting fondled in that elevator alone.” 

“Why the hell would I get fondled?” 

“Old ladies like tall men. Tall, young men, Sammy. Just imagine it; their wrinkly old lady hands, sliding up your shirt -”

“Just go back to reading your book, Y/N, please.” 

Chapter Two

[bellaxgiornata]

Caught in the Undertow [Chapter Six]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Original Female Character

[You can find the full summary and chapter list for this series here]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains fluff, angst, domestic violence, depression, PTSD, smut

Word Count: 6.9k

a/n: Another sort of fluffy chapter for this series! Though Matty, your Daredevil is showing a little too closely in this one... Feedback is always appreciated!

Chewing my lip absently, my eyes scanned over the email response I’d just typed up for a client. Soft ambient music was playing from my laptop as I sat with my legs crossed underneath me on my couch. Eventually satisfied with the email I'd written, I hit the send button before pulling up Lightroom and loading an engagement session that I needed to finish editing this week. 

As the files began to upload, I slid my glasses from my face, rubbing the heel of my hand over my strained and tired eyes. I had awoken early this morning at just before six. Unable to fall back asleep as thoughts raced through my mind, I had decided to just jump straight to work. I’d been staring at my laptop for a few hours already and my eyes were killing me.

My phone began to vibrate loudly from beside my laptop as I slid my glasses back on. I leaned over towards my coffee table, grabbing my phone and expecting it to be a client calling. I grinned wide when I saw Matt’s name on the screen instead.  

It had been a few days since Matt had stayed the night here after my housewarming party. We’d fallen asleep wrapped in each other's arms and woken up to briefly cuddle–the entire thing still seeming surreal–before I needed to get ready for a wedding later that morning. I’d finished the wedding close to midnight that night, getting done with the job and finding he’d sent me a few cute text messages throughout the day to let me know he’d been thinking about me. The following day on Sunday I’d had an engagement party I was photographing in the evening. That same night he called me when I got home and we talked for over an hour while I was downloading the photos from the event and making dinner. Unfortunately yesterday I hadn’t heard much from him; Matt had been busy in court most of the day before working late on another case with Foggy afterwards so we hadn't really spoken.

But seeing his name pop up on my phone so early this morning was a welcome sight.

“Good morning, Matty,” I greeted as I answered.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he responded, the hint of a smile in his tone.

I bit my lip at the unexpected term of endearment, warmth blooming in my chest. “To–to what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning call?” I stuttered out.

“It’s been too long since I last heard your voice,” he answered me, all charm. “I missed it. And ,” he added, my stomach twisting pleasantly at his words, “I was wondering if you’d care to join me at Mad Goat for a few hours this morning? If you don’t have a shoot?” he asked hopefully. “I don’t really need to go into the office to work on things today and I…I’ve missed working with you beside me over coffee,” he admitted.

I smiled as my eyes slid over to my laptop. The program was just finishing uploading the images I needed to work on as we spoke. There really was no reason why I couldn’t work on them while sipping coffee and chatting with Matt like we used to do. 

“I have another engagement shoot at three-thirty this afternoon I need to get a few things together for,” I told him, my eyes darting to the time in the corner of my screen. It was just after nine. “But I’d love to spend a few hours working next to you,” I told him. “Just like old times.”

“I know we haven’t really defined whatever this is, or mentioned anything to our friends, but do I get to hold your hand if I want? Kiss you?” he asked curiously, uncertainty in his tone. “Is that…is that alright?”

I grinned, a sudden giddiness flooding me. “If you want to,” I answered him, chewing my thumbnail nervously.

“Then it’s better than old times,” he corrected me. “Because back then all I could do was imagine it, but now I actually have permission to act on it.”

“You’re a sweet talker, Murdock,” I teased him. “You know that?”

“Only for you, sweetheart,” he murmured back.

My heart swelled in my chest as my eyes glanced back at the program on my laptop. It had finished uploading the photos.

“Meet you at the coffee shop in twenty minutes?” I asked him.

“I’ll be there waiting for you,” he promised me. “Honey lavender oat milk latte with light ice?”

The fact that he remembered my coffee order despite the fact that it had been close to a year since the last time we’d gone knocked the air from my lungs. How much had he noticed about me through the years? How blind to everything had I really been? How had I not seen what was right in front of me after all of this time?

“Em?” Matt asked when I didn’t answer.

“Yeah, sorry,” I breathed out. “I just…can’t believe you remember my coffee order.”

“Of course I do,” he told me. “It was your go-to coffee whenever it was warm out. You always ordered it in the summer.”

“And you still ordered hot coffee even on a hot day," I recounted with a smile. "Because you never ordered anything iced; you always said it waters your coffee down and makes it taste weird."

“See, you–you remember,” he said, sounding a little breathless himself. “I’ll uh, see you in twenty?”

“Looking forward to it,” I told him.

°•°•°•°•°•°

The moment I pulled open the door to Mad Goat I was hit with the fresh smell of coffee and a rush of nostalgia. I stepped inside, my eyes scanning to our usual booth in the far back corner. Matt was sitting right there in the same booth we’d spent so many days together in. I stood there a moment, slowly smiling as I took in the sight of him with his dark glasses on, his attention focused on sliding his fingers along a paper as he read. There was a laptop closed on the table next to a stack of papers beside him along with two coffees. I adjusted the strap of my brown leather backpack, my heart fluttering in my chest with a lightness that almost made me dizzy. His hand stopped abruptly on the paper, his head rising from the table and turning in my direction. I bit my lip and made my way towards him wondering how it seemed as if he always knew when I showed up.

“Hey, Matty,” I greeted softly as I approached the little corner booth. “Did you miss me?”

A wide smile broke across his face, his white teeth flashing at me. He raised a hand up and removed his glasses, his sightless gaze falling near my shoulder.

“I did, actually,” he admitted.

He slid further into the booth to make room for me. One of his hands searched along the table until it came in contact with the iced coffee before he gently slid it towards me.

“Thank you,” I said, slipping the bag from my back before sitting down beside him. “Next round is on me, though.”

“Maybe I want to buy you a second cup,” Matt pointed out. “I do get paid in actual money now, Ms. Diehl.”

I chuckled as I set my backpack into my lap, unzipping it and sliding my laptop out. “I happen to recall Foggy mentioning the other night that someone paid you guys in rhubarb pie recently,” I said.

Matt grinned, ducking his head as he nodded. “Okay, so I do get paid in actual money and the occasional rhubarb pie.”

Placing the laptop onto the table, I got comfortable in the booth beside him. “I get the next round of coffee, Murdock. Only fair. Pretty sure I owe you more than the forty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents I gave you years ago.”

“The time spent with you all these years more than made up for that,” he whispered.

My hands hesitated on my laptop, my head turning over my shoulder towards him; the sight of him had me momentarily stop breathing. He was looking at me with an earnest expression on his face that had my palms beginning to moisten. 

“You don’t need to sweet talk me, Matty,” I murmured. “You already have my interest.”

The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk as he gazed back at me. “It’s not sweet talking if it’s the truth,” he countered gently.

I felt a flush creep up my cheeks as I finished opening my laptop, trying to quietly exhale a shaky breath so he wouldn’t hear it. I swallowed hard as I waited for my laptop to turn on, beginning to dig through my bag for my glasses case and cordless mouse. 

“So what’re you working on this morning?” he asked curiously, his tone shifting back to casual.

I slid my glasses onto my face, clearing my throat and trying to recover from the effect he’d just had on me. “Engagement session,” I answered, turning on the mouse. “I need it done by the end of the week but I’m hoping to knock it out this morning. You?”

“Prepping for a deposition tomorrow,” he told me, his attention returning to the papers before him.

  “Mmm, lawyer stuff,” I mused, loading Lightroom up on my laptop. “Does not sound fun at all. I much prefer what I’m doing.”

He chuckled beside me as I reached for my coffee; and then his warm hand landed on my right thigh, just above my knee. The coffee cup paused just before my lips, my body freezing at the contact. My stomach lightly flipped in a strange excitement–definitely not something another guy had made me feel before from a single touch.

“This is alright with you, right?” he asked, leaning towards me as he lightly squeezed my leg.

“Yeah,” I breathed out.

I took a drink of my coffee, ignoring the slight tremor in my hand as I set it back down on the table. I pulled open the folder in Lightroom that I had been about to work on this morning before he called me, but admittedly my attention was very much still focused on his hand on my leg. A small, depraved part of me suddenly wondered what it would feel like if he slid it further up despite how much of a very public setting we were in. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him reading again, his right hand running along the pages before him. I’d have thought he was oblivious to the effect he was having on me right now if I couldn’t see the permanent grin on his face.

My attention returned to my laptop, setting up a batch process for the images in the folder as I wondered how in the hell Matt Murdock had suddenly kickstarted my sex drive–the one that had been stalled for months because of my grief and depression.

Pushing those thoughts away, I minimized the tab for Lightroom while it worked before I pulled my email back up, groaning when I saw another email from a wedding planner I didn’t particularly enjoy working with.

“Hmm?” Matt hummed beside me.

“Nothing,” I grumbled. “Just an email from someone who I swear plots my demise at every wedding we work together.”

Matt snickered beside me, his hand falling away from his papers as he turned a bit towards me in the booth. “Okay, now I need to hear more.”

I huffed loudly as my eyes scanned the email. “It’s this wedding planner–Angelica Van Buren.” I rolled my eyes at how even her name was as haughty as she was. “I try to be friendly and professional with her, I swear. But she’s so infuriating. Treats every other vendor like the hired help–which like, okay, I am hired to help–but she insists I lug my shit through the servant’s entrances for every wedding we work together instead of using the front door like a normal person.” I held up a hand roughly. “And don’t even get me started on how I feel about it being called a servant’s entrance, by the way. Which she loves to call it any chance she gets.” I sighed, shaking my head as I skimmed her email. “Anyway. She basically butchered my timeline for this weekend. Which wasn’t unexpected. Now I’ll have like five minutes to scarf down the sad little paper bag meal I’ll be fed for the fourteen hours I’ll be working Saturday.” I picked up my coffee, taking another sip. “I miss courthouse elopement’s in Hell’s Kitchen sometimes,” I mumbled.

Matt laughed immediately. “Frank and Jodi?” he recalled.

My eyes went wide as I remembered the pair of bikers. “Oh my God, they were a riot !” I gushed. “Who knew sixty-something year old bikers could be hilarious and romantic?”

“Didn’t they gift each other handguns?” he asked curiously. “And they wanted you to photograph it?”

I sighed gently, smiling at the memory. “Yeah,” I answered him. “Yeah, they did. It was weird and wonderful. That’s the shit I love about this job. Not–” my hand waved at the irritating email from Angelica, “–this stuff.” I paused, glaring at the email for a moment as Matt’s hand squeezed my thigh again. “You know, shortly after I moved out of Hell’s Kitchen I photographed a wedding where the bride’s father told me he spent a quarter of a million on the whole day.” I caught the slight jaw drop on Matt’s face as his eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, gross right? Way too much for a wedding. Anyway, this bride had a list of pictures she wanted– none of them of her with her new husband. She wanted me to photograph her engagement ring and her three wedding bands–and I still to this day wonder why you need so many rings on one finger?” I shook my head before continuing, “Even her little dog that was there she cared more about. Hell, when I went back to edit everything later, I had more photos of the seven foot tiered cake she wouldn’t stop gushing about the baker it came from than photos of her and her husband.”

“Was it any good at least?” he asked. "The cake?"

“You know, that happened to be one of the few weddings I actually got to try the cake at since taking on more…uh, high end clients,” I told him. “Probably because there was a seven foot cake to feed fifty people. But no–the actual cake was dry as a bone. I cringe at what her father must’ve spent on it.”

“I don’t want to know,” he said, pulling a face.

“Anyway, my point being–I miss the weddings like Frank and Jodi,” I admitted. “It was an unexpected, weirdly sweet rollercoaster of an afternoon with them. Whereas the people I sometimes photograph now?” I sighed, shaking my head. “By the time I finished editing the bride with the seven foot cake's photos and reached out to her to deliver them, she told me they were already divorcing each other. Together for ten years and then divorced after six weeks of marriage.”

“He probably got tired of her talking about the damn cake,” Matt joked.

I grinned, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Or asking for another ring,” I joked back, earning a chuckle from Matt. 

I focused back on my photos, deciding to respond to the email later today. I pulled the editing program back up and began marking the images I’d keep for the couple, beginning the culling process of the photos in the folder. 

“That’s one thing I can’t stand about the weddings for these ‘high class people’,” I continued with a roll of my eyes, my attention fixed on my laptop. “Not all of them are like that, but a disturbing majority of them are getting married like it’s a social event and they’re going to plan another in a few years’ time. The ones where it’s just a show of wealth make me sick all day to work. Or, ugh, I get the few where the groom is literally trashing his soon-to-be-wife to his groomsmen while I’m photographing them getting ready–even worse if they’re discussing the details of what they really shouldn’t have been doing at the bachelor parties.” I cringed at a particular memory. “I love me a wedding where the vows make me teary eyed when they read them to each other,” I rambled on. “Or when the groom first sees his bride at the end of the aisle and he literally weeps like a baby in front of all of their friends and family–which is my favorite shot at any wedding.” My fingers worked almost mechanically as I continued through the cute engagement session on my laptop, my eyes focused on the screen. “And when they can’t keep their hands off of each other all day,” I continued. “The sweet forehead kisses during the first dance. Or when–”

Matt’s hand darted out, startling me when he captured my chin in his fingers in a firm grip. He carefully pulled my face away from my laptop and towards him. My breath caught in my throat. He was smiling wide as he leaned in towards me, his eyes dropping down to my lips right before he abruptly connected his mouth to mine. I was caught off guard, too shocked to respond right away, but then his fingers let go of my chin as his hand slid up, his warm palm cupping my cheek. I melted into him in the booth, my chest brushing against his. My mouth responded to his the moment my brain restarted. I kissed him back eagerly, my hand flying down under the table to the one he had squeezing my thigh and I gripped it tight, holding onto it like a lifeline. 

He tasted like the drip coffee he was drinking and I was once again dumbfounded that I was sitting in our coffeeshop with his mouth on mine. After a moment his lips pulled back, but I leaned back into him, connecting our lips once, twice more. It was almost impossible to stop kissing him. Matt’s hand on my cheek had to pull me back as he lightly chuckled, his lips planting a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“What–what was that about?” I asked him in shock, trying to recover.

He grinned wide back at me, my eyes lowering to focus on his soft lips again. I really wanted to keep kissing them.

“We’ve come here a lot over the two years we’ve been friends,” he told me, “and I’ve listened many times as you rambled on about the bits of wedding photography you were passionate about–a sweet couple you worked with, some funny story from a wedding you just photographed, an emotional toast a sibling gave, or you describing the emotion in some image you were editing and were yourself getting emotional over.” His grin grew into a smile, his eyes creasing as he looked back at me. “And every time I ever heard you gush about any of those, all I have ever wanted to do was just grab you and kiss you. Because it’s cute as hell and your love of other people’s love is sweet to hear. And I just…couldn’t help myself,” he admitted. “You’re adorable.”

Something warm rushed through my veins and I grabbed his face in both of my hands, drawing his mouth back towards mine. I could feel him smiling against my mouth as he kissed me back, the stubble of his face pleasantly scratching my skin.

“What?” I asked, lips moving against his mouth.

“We’re in a busy coffee shop,” he pointed out, grinning as he pulled back, brushing his forehead against mine. “And even though I’m blind I can tell we’re being stared at.”

“Am I embarrassing you, Matthew Murdock?” I questioned him coyly.

“No,” he whispered back, his mouth briefly connecting with mine again to prove his point. “But we should probably refrain from a public make out session.”

I pouted, leaning back in the booth. We were, in fact, being stared at. I blushed faintly even as I whispered back, “But I enjoy kissing you.”

The hand he had on my thigh slid an inch up my leg and I straightened. “And I enjoy kissing you, Em,” he murmured, his thumb sweeping over the fabric of my jeans. “But we won’t get any work done if we keep doing… that .”

I sighed, my eyes shifting from Matt’s handsome face to my laptop screen. “You have a point,” I grumbled out. “I do need to get this done.”

I picked up my iced coffee, drinking down a good amount of it as I focused back on my work. We fell into a comfortable silence for the next thirty some minutes; Matt reading his papers beside me with a look of intense focus on his face as I continued to work through the engagement session. His hand remained on my thigh, occasionally his thumb would begin to absently rub soothing circles along my leg or his hand would gently massage the muscle underneath it. Each time his hand moved my heart gave a little jolt, a small smile spreading over my lips.

As I was finishing culling the photos, Matt leaned over towards me. My eyes were still focused on the laptop screen but I felt his lips press a kiss to my shoulder, just over the top of my tee-shirt. I bit my lip, my attention turning towards him with a faint questioning hum.

“I missed this,” he confessed. “Sitting here working alongside you, drinking coffee.”

“I did too, Matty,” I admitted. “It feels like the world is right again.”

“It does,” he agreed softly.

My eyes darted to our empty coffee cups before I turned back towards him. “You still have more work to do?” I asked him.

“Yeah, a few emails to work up and notes to check,” he answered. I began sliding out of the booth but Matt’s hand quickly held on tight to my leg. “Where are you going?”

“I told you, Murdock,” I said, gingerly removing his hand from my thigh. “Second round of coffee is on me.”

“You’re not going to give up on this, are you?” he asked.

“Mmm, no,” I told him, rising to my feet. “Same drink?”

The corner of his lip turned up as he nodded. “Yeah, thanks, Em.”

“No problem, Matty. I’ll be right back.”

I made my way over to the register, ordering both of us another drink and paying. As I slid over to the counter, waiting for the barista to make our drinks, my eyes returned back to Matt in the back of the shop. He was huddled over his laptop again, one hand dragging through his hair with his elbow on the table in deep concentration. The fingers on his other hand traced over the braille reader hooked up to his laptop. I watched him for a few minutes wondering how in the hell someone so sweet and caring had walked into my life and also managed to want me back. It still didn't feel real.

The barista broke me out of my trance a few minutes later and I accepted the cups from him with a smile. I made my way back towards Matt, my heart skittering in my chest when he recognized my footsteps and glanced up towards me. 

"Need to recaffeinate?" I asked, holding his cup out towards him.

His hand reached out and I slipped the drink into it before plopping back into the booth beside him. I took a sip of coffee before setting it onto the table, my attention returning to the almost two hundred final edits I was making slight tweaks on. Matt's hand returned to my leg and I couldn't keep the smile from my mouth as I continued working. 

"What time is it?" he asked after a little bit.

My eyes darted to the corner of my screen, reading the time. "It's about a quarter to eleven," I told him.

"And what time do you need to get back for your shoot?" 

I chewed my lip in thought. The shoot was at three-thirty and it would take me probably a half an hour to get home from here with traffic and then I needed to gather my camera equipment and meet the couple at a park a couple blocks from my place. I'd probably need at least an hour to make sure I wasn't late. 

"Probably by two-thirty at the latest?" I answered him, turning my attention to him beside me. "Why, what's up?"

He leaned his right arm onto the table, turning a bit more towards me. He looked nervous as he looked back at me and my eyes scanned him curiously. 

"Can I…take you to lunch?" he asked, his eyebrows rising onto his forehead.

"Not tired of me yet?" I shot back.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, definitely not. But would that be…okay? Something you'd like to do?"

"Yeah, Matt, of course," I assured him. 

A smile broke across his face and he reached across the booth towards me, encircling his arms around my shoulders and pulling me into his muscular chest. A small squeal of surprise left me at the sudden gesture. He wrapped me in a warm embrace, placing a barrage of kisses to my temple as I giggled. 

"What's that all about?" I asked him between laughter.

"Just happy," he told me, holding me in a hug with his arms still wrapped around my shoulders. "How does brunch sound?"

"Matt," I said, abruptly serious as I turned the best I could to look up at him, "you know damn well I love me a good eggs benedict."

He placed a kiss on my cheek before releasing me and I straightened up in the booth, adjusting my blouse. 

"There's supposed to be a good place just across the street," he told me. "You want to finish up here and head over in a half hour?"

"Sounds like a plan," I told him. "I'm almost done here. You?"

His attention shifted back to his laptop and his braille reader. "Just an email I'm finishing responding to, but I can keep you company while you finish. I know you wanted to get that done this morning and I don't want to be the reason you don't."

"Ever so considerate," I mused, my attention returning to my work. "I'm mostly just doing small edits now. Then I just need to export the final images."

We fell into another comfortable silence for a little while, Matt typing away on his keyboard and finishing his email while I continued downing my coffee and editing images. After a bit I heard Matt packing his things up beside me. 

"Just finishing up," I told him. "About to export the images now."

"We should do this more often," Matt suggested, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

"It's definitely more enjoyable editing with company than sitting alone in my apartment," I agreed. 

I bit my lip, contemplating saying something more as I glanced over at Matt while the program on my laptop finished up. It wasn't a surprise when he somehow picked up on my hesitation–he always knew. 

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked, resting his chin in his hand as he leant on the table, his sightless gaze fixed on me. 

His eyes had focused on my chest as he spoke, a smirk spreading on his lips a moment later as if he could sense the way my body reacted to the way he called me ‘sweetheart’.

"I was just thinking that maybe we should do this…at one of our places next time," I answered slowly, my eyes sliding back to the laptop as a sudden shyness overtook me again at how blunt I was about to be. "So we can make out without an audience," I finished, voice lowering as I spoke.

He shifted beside me, his thigh suddenly bumping up beside mine. A flash of it bare in the dark before he slipped into my bed the other night ran through my mind and I felt my body warm. He threw an arm over my shoulder, leaning in to kiss my cheek. And then his mouth lingered beside my ear.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath fanning along my neck.

I swallowed hard, definitely feeling an increase in body temperature now. My eyes were still on my screen, taking a moment to realize the program had finished. 

"My uh–my engagement session is finished," I breathed out, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. 

I didn't want to rush things with Matt, and I was still trying to figure my own shit out, but when he did things like this I was quickly finding that I was having a hard time not turning around and straddling him in the middle of the coffee shop and shoving his hands up my shirt and mine down his pants. The mental image of doing just that briefly flashed through my mind and my thighs involuntarily tightened against each other. 

Matt cleared his throat, removing his arm from around me. When I turned to look at him he appeared to be struggling a little himself. His cheeks were flushed and the muscles in his jaw were working. My brows furrowed, unsure of how he'd switched so abruptly from cocky to flustered. I opened my mouth to speak but he managed to cut me off before I could.

"Why don't we go grab lunch then?" he suggested quickly, voice sounding strained.

"Sure, just need to pack up my things," I told him.

I turned off my laptop and removed my glasses, returning both items to my bag before zipping it up. Matt remained silent the entire time; my mind still closely focused on how his thigh was still pressed to mine.

"All good, you ready to go?" I asked, confused by his strange silence.

Matt nodded, a tight smile forming on his face. I slid out of the booth and he followed after me. As I swung my backpack onto my back, he slid his dark glasses back on and unfolded his cane. I reached out and gently grabbed his wrist, guiding it to the crook of my elbow as usual before leading us out of the coffee shop. 

The heat of the midday sun was sweltering as we stepped outside. Matt thankfully seemed to have recovered from whatever had just happened inside, now appearing significantly more relaxed as he held on to me.

"So where is this place?" I asked him, my eyes scanning across the street.

"It's just around the corner on the block across from here," he told me.

"West fifty-first?" I clarified, my eyes darting towards the street.

"Yeah," he answered. "It's where Nat's used to be?"

"Oh!" I said, recognition dawning on me. I immediately started leading us both towards the crosswalk at the end of the block. "Nat's closed? They had good pizza."

"I don't think Nat could afford to keep the doors open anymore," Matt told me.

"That's a shame," I mumbled.

I brought us to a stop at the corner for a moment, scanning the street before stepping out. Matt’s grip tightened against my arm, roughly pulling me back just as a car whipped around the corner. My heart lurched into my throat as I stared wide eyed after the car that had blatantly just run a red light. 

"Fucking hell, what a dick!" I called out. I sighed, my attention shifting to Matt beside me who looked startled as well. "Thanks, I don't know how I didn't see that." And then I frowned, my eyes narrowing at him curiously. "Wait, how did you know there was a car coming around the corner?"

"I uh, could hear it," he said quickly, shooting me a tight smile.

I stared at him for a long moment before shaking my head. "Sorry, didn't mean to walk us in front of a car," I apologized, double checking before crossing again. 

"Wasn't your fault," he said off-handedly. "So I've never been to this place before but Foggy and Marci apparently love it."

"Well if Marci recommends it then it's good," I assured him.

As we turned the corner, the brunch place came into view immediately. I led us over, helping guide Matt inside as a hostess pleasantly greeted us. She grabbed two menus and led us further inside, seating us in a booth. Matt released his grip on me, sliding into the booth across from me. I frowned looking down at the menu.

“You want me to see if they have one in braille? Or would you like me to read the items off to you?” I asked Matt, my eyes scouring the paper in front of me.

Matt removed his dark glasses from his face, setting them onto the table beside himself. “I’m pretty sure Foggy told me they had a good vegetarian skillet.”

My eyes skimmed the menu, eventually landing on what I assumed he meant. I read it off for him, looking up towards him afterwards.

“Yeah, I’ll probably stick with that,” he answered. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” I told him, my eyes scanning the section of eggs benedict options. “Restaurants really need to be less ableist with their menus,” I muttered.

It was just a minute before a movement beside our table caught my attention. I straightenedup, my attention turning to the waitress who’d arrived–and then frowned immediately. She had pen to paper in her hand, her eyes focused solely on Matt as if I wasn’t even present. She was clearly biting her lip and blushing.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, clearly trying to pitch her voice to sound alluring and sultry.

I rolled my eyes and focused on the menu on the table. Matt ordered a water before the young waitress grudgingly turned towards me, a scowl on her face as she very obviously eyed me up and down.

I smiled politely, even if it was a tense smile. “Water’s fine,” I told her.

Her attention shifted back to Matt, the warm smile returning to her face. “I’ll be right back,” she told him before walking off, intentionally adding a sway to her hips.

I huffed in annoyance as I placed an elbow on the table, anxiously raking a hand through my hair. 

“What?” Matt asked.

My eyes darted up from the menu towards his quizzical expression. I frowned–there was no way he was that oblivious was there?

“Nothing,” I mumbled back. 

His eyes slightly narrowed back at me, quietly scrutinizing me. After a moment he opened his mouth to say something, but the pretty blonde waitress returned, making a show of bringing Matt his water.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked him sweetly, leaning a bit towards him, one hand on the back of his side of the booth.

My hand under the table clenched. How could one person be so rude? 

“Why don’t you start with the lady?” Matt suggested, his hand gesturing to me across the table.

The waitress grit her teeth, forcing a smile on her face as she turned towards me. I gave her my order before she quickly focused back on Matt, all flirtatious smiles and hair twirling. I was grateful when she finally disappeared a minute later after taking our orders and menus.

“I may be blind but I’m not stupid,” Matt pointed out. “Somethings bothering you.”

“It’s nothing,” I assured him.

“The waitress?” he asked.

I sighed, running a hand across my forehead. “Just the blatant flirting is rude when she could easily surmise you’re here with someone already,” I mumbled, grabbing my water and taking a drink. “Not like I don’t get it, I mean, you walk into a room and a lot of women are staring at you. But just… that is irritating.”

“If it makes you feel better, I could care less about her rude flirting. Though I am bothered by how she’s treating you,” he said. “Not exactly how I wanted a first date to go.”

One of my brows quirked up as I eyed him across the table. “First date?” I asked him curiously.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean, unless you’d rather it not be that?”

“I–” My voice caught in my throat; what were we doing kissing in coffee shops and grabbing brunch together if it wasn’t a date? “What are we doing?” I asked abruptly.

His brows creased together, his lips turning down at the corners. “I was hoping you’d enlighten me on that when you were ready.”

“So…this is a date?” I clarified, feeling nervous suddenly.

“I’d like it to be if you would,” he answered. “What do you want it to be, Em?”

I sat in the booth feeling my mind begin to race. The jealousy I felt over the waitress flirting with Matt had me certain I wanted things to be exclusive between us–I didn’t want him seeing anyone else as much as I didn’t want to see anyone else. But I also wasn’t ready for an actual, committed relationship just yet, especially since I didn’t know how that would even look for us. And certainly not while I was trying to recover from whatever I was struggling through.

“Exclusively…casually dating?” I asked him cautiously.

A small grin spread on his mouth. “Please define that for me,” he requested.

“Not seeing other people but…not exactly in a relationship?” I explained timidly. “Just…feeling things out? Seeing where things go?”

“I don’t want to see anyone else anyway, Emily,” he assured me.

“Neither do I,” I answered him quickly, my hands resting along the table.

He gazed back at me for a moment, a soft smile on his face as he did. His eyes were scanning along my face. “So what does that entail? This…exclusive casual dating between us? Going on dates? Kissing?”

“Yes, definitely the kissing,” I answered with a grin. His eyebrows rose on his forehead as his grin spread wider. “And the dates. The dates are a good idea,” I agreed.

“Cuddling?” he asked curiously, both elbows resting on the table as he leaned forward towards me with a look of extreme interest on his face.

I mimicked his body language, leaning towards him as well with a smile. “Yes, definitely cuddling. And hand holding, that’s allowed.”

One of his hands slid across the wooden table, searching for mine. I laughed lightly, placing my hand into his. His hand squeezed mine back.

“Maybe I should ask what’s not included instead?” he asked.

I bit my lip, thinking for a moment. The only thing that truly came to mind besides the actual commitment aspect of a relationship was also one thing I found myself desperately wanting with him. But I was also afraid it might completely complicate whatever was going on between us and push me into an actual relationship too soon. I still had things I needed to finish internally working through.

“Besides the pressure of an actual relationship," I began nervously, "we should…probably refrain from…sex,” I said, my cheeks flushing as I grudgingly admitted that thought aloud. “For now. Until we sort of figure this out. I just don’t want to complicate things. And I–I just want to…get my head on straight,” I mumbled the last bit.

His hand squeezed mine again. “I’m okay with that,” he whispered back. “I can wait for you, Em. However long you want, however long it takes.”

A shiver ran down my spine at his words and the way he was staring at me from across the booth–once again like I was the only one in the room despite the busy restaurant we were sitting in. Slowly he raised my hand towards his mouth, his plump lips placing a lingering, soft kiss to my knuckles that had my heart thundering in my chest and a warmth flooding low inside of me. I was almost immediately regretting taking sex off of the table. 

The waitress abruptly appeared beside the table, a loud huff of annoyance coming from her as she saw Matt kissing my hand. I watched a slow smirk carefully spread across Matt’s lips behind my knuckles, his gaze still focused on me. My eyes widened–had he somehow done that on purpose ? He couldn't have though, because I hadn't even noticed she was on her way over with our food. 

He brushed my knuckles against the smirk on his lips before releasing my hand and sitting back, making space for the waitress to set our plates down. Which she did with a little unnecessary extra force for the both of us before telling us to enjoy our meal in a clipped tone and abruptly leaving. 

My eyes remained on Matt as he felt around the table for his silverware, a smirk still on his mouth. 

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" I asked him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he answered airily. "You mind passing the hot sauce?"

I stared back at him for a moment, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Not buying it, Murdock," I told him, sliding the hot sauce across the table and into his waiting hand.

He grinned, not saying anything more as his attention currently turned to his food. I speared a piece of strawberry off my plate, bringing it to my mouth and chewing thoughtfully as I watched him.

[aspenmissing]

𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

Sam, Dean, and Y/N pull into the station.

"Alright, I figure we'd hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight," Sam says, but Dean doesn't respond. "Sam wears women's underwear."

"I've been listenin', I'm just busy," he says, looking at his phone.

"Busy doin' what?"

"Reading e-mail," Sam says as Dean gets out of the car and starts filling the tank with gas.

"E-mails from who?"

"From my friends at Stanford."

"You're kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?"

"Why not?"

"Well, what exactly do you tell 'em? You know, about where you've been, what you've been doin'?" Y/N says.

"I tell 'em I'm on a road trip with my big brother and sister. I tell 'em I needed some time off after Jess."

"Oh, so you lie to 'em," Y/N says.

"No. I just don't tell 'em... everything."

"Yeah, that's called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it; tellin' the truth is far worse."

"So, what am I supposed to do? Just cut everybody out of my life?" Dean shrugs, and Y/N nods. "You're serious?"

"Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can't get close to people, period," Y/N says.

"Your kind of anti-social, you know that?"

"Yeah, whatever," Y/N says as Sam continues to read his e-mails.

"God..."

"What?" Dean asks.

"In this email from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine."

"Is she hot?" Dean asks, and Y/N scoffs and leans back into her seat as Sam ignores him.

"I went to school with her and her brother, Zack. She says Zack's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn't do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case," Sam says.

"Dude, what kind of people are you hangin' out with?" Dean says.

"No, man, I know Zack. He's no killer."

"Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you."

"They're in St. Louis. We're goin'," Dean chuckles.

"Look, sorry 'bout your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem."

"It is our problem. They're my friends."

"St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam." Y/N glares at him, and a minute later, they pull out of the gas station and start driving.

==

The three stand outside a house, and the door opens to reveal a young woman.

"Oh my God, Sam!"

"Well, if it isn't little Becky."

"You know what you can do with that little Becky crap," she says, smiling, and they hug each other.

"I got your e-mail."

"I didn't think that you would come here," Dean steps forward and extends his hand.

"Dean. Older brother," he says as she shakes his hand. Then Y/N does the same.

"Y/N. Older sister," Y/N smiles at her.

"We're here to help. Whatever we can do."

"Come in," they say, walking inside the house, and Dean shuts the door.

"Nice place."

"It's my parents'. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I'm going to stay until Zack's free."

"Where are your folks?"

"They lived in Paris for half a year, so they're on their way home now for the trial," Rebecca says as they enter the kitchen. "Do you guys want a beer or something?"

"Hey-" Dean is cut off by Y/N.

"No, thanks. So, tell us what happened."

"Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing," She starts to cry. " So, he called 911, and the police showed up, and they arrested him. But the thing is, the only way that Zack could've killed Emily was if he was in two places at the same time. The police have a video. It's from the security tape across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight."

"You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack's house."

"We could."

"Why? I mean, what could you do?"

"Well, me, not much. But Dean and Y/N are cops," the twins laugh.

"Detectives, actually."

"Really," Dean nods. "Where?"

"Bisbee, Arizona. But we're off-duty now."

"You guys, it's so nice to offer, but I just don't know."

"Bec, look, I know Zack didn't do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he's innocent."

"Okay. I'm going to go get the keys," she says, walking away down the hall.

"Oh, yeah, man, you're a real straight shooter with your friends."

"Look, Zack and Becky need our help."

"I just don't think this is our kind of problem."

"Two places at once? We've looked into less." Dean says nothing, defeated. Y/N smirks.

==Time Skip==

Dean, Y/N, Sam, and Rebecca park the car and get out.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Rebecca asks, looking at the twins.

"Yeah. We're officers of the law," Sam says, and Dean and Y/N nod. They enter and look away. The furniture and walls of the house are smeared with blood. Rebecca stays on the porch step.

"Bec, you want to wait outside?"

"No. I want to help," she ducks under the police tape and enters the house.

"Tell us what else the police said."

"Well, there's no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers-they're already talking about plea bargains," she says, looking around the room. "Oh, God...."

"Look, Bec, if Zack didn't do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?" She shakes her head and then begins to remember something.

"Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes—Zack's clothes. The police don't think it's anything. I mean, we're not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed." Sam and Y/N walk away as Dean moves to the open front door and sees the neighbour's dog barking loudly. Rebecca comes up behind him.

"You know, that used to be the sweetest dog."

"What happened?" Dean asks.

"He just changed."

"Do you remember when he changed?"

"I guess around the time of the murder," Dean says, looking at her, then walking away. Sam is in the hallway, looking at framed pictures of himself, Zack, and Rebecca. Y/N and Dean walk over to him.

"So, the neighbour's dog went psycho right around the time Zack's girlfriend was killed," Dean says.

"Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal," Sam replies.

"Yeah, maybe Fido saw something," Y/N adds.

"So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?"

"No. Probably not. But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Rebecca says, walking over to them. "So, the tape. The security footage-you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, 'cause I just don't have that kind of jurisdiction."

"I've already got it. I didn't want to say something in front of the cop," Dean and Y/N laugh. "I stole it off the lawyer's desk. I just had to see it for myself.

"All right," the four of them say.

==

Dean, Y/N, Sam, and Rebecca are watching the security footage.

"Here he comes." The tape shows Zack entering his house.

"22:04—that's just after ten. You should tune of death was around 10:30," Dean says.

"Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tapes are authentic. It wasn't tampered with," Sam seems to notice something on the tape.

"Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?"

"Oh, sure," she says, getting up to go to the kitchen.

"Hey," she says, turning around. "Maybe some sandwiches, too?"

"What do you think this is, Hooters?" She leaves the room.

"I wish," Dean says, walking over to Y/N and Sam. "What is it?"

"Check this out," he says, rewinding the tape, then replaying it one frame at a time until one of the frames shows Zack looking directly at the camera. His eyes are silver, and Sam pauses the tape.

"Well, maybe it's just a camera flare," Y/N says.

"That's not like any camera flare I've ever seen. You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul," Sam says.

"Right."

"Remember that dog that was freakin' out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack's, something that looks like him but isn't him."

"Like a Doppelganger?"

"Yeah. It'd sure explain how he was in two places at once."

==

Y/N parks the Impala behind the house, and the siblings get out.

"Alright, so what are we doin' here at 5:30 in the morning?" Sam looks around the outside of the building and notices blood smeared on a nearby telephone pole.

"Blood. Somebody came this way."

"Yeah, but the trail ends. I don't see anything over here." An ambulance drives past them, and they exchange a look before walking in the direction of the ambulance.

"What happened?" Y/N asks a woman nearby.

"He tried to kill his wife. Tie her up and beat her."

"Really?"

"I used to see him going to work in the morning. He'd wave and say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy," they watch as the man gets taken away.

==

Sam is on the side of the house, looking around. He looks inside two garbage cans but finds nothing. He moves to the front of the house, where Dean and Y/N come behind him.

"Hey," Dean says, making Sam turn around. "Remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem?"

"Yeah."

"Our kind of problem."

"What'd you find out?"

"Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex's story. The dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked," Y/N says.

"So, he was in two places at once."

"Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house; the police think he's a nutjob."

"Two dark doubles attack loved ones in the same way."

"Could be the same thing doin' it, too," Sam and Dean think for a second.

"Shapeshifter?" Y/N shrugs. "Something that can make itself look like anyone?"

"Every culture in the world has shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men."

"Right, skinwalkers, werewolves."

"We've got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessin' we've got a shapeshifter prowlin' the neighbourhood," Dean says.

"Let me ask you this: in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?" Y/N shakes her head.

"Not that I know of."

"I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way."

"Just like your friend's house," Dean says.

"Yeah. And just like at Zack's house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is, just disappeared."

"Well, there's another way to go down." They look down and notice a manhole.

==

Dean, Sam, and Y/N climb down the manhole and look around.

"I bet this runs right by Zack's house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around."

"I think you're right. Look at this." They bend down and examine a pile of blood and skin on the ground. The three are disgusted.

"Is this from his victims?" Y/N takes out a pocketknife and holds up some of the skin.

"You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape, maybe it shreds," Y/N says.

"This is sick," Sam says, and Y/N puts the blood pile back on the ground.

==

"Well, one thing I learned from Dad is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there's one sure way to kill it," Y/N says, opening the trunk and taking out some weapons.

"A silver bullet to the heart."

"That's right," Sam's phone rings, and he answers it.

"This is Sam."

"Where are you?"

"We're near Zack's; we're just checking' some things out."

"Well, look, Sam, just stop, 'cause I don't need your help anymore."

"What are you talking' about?"

"I told the lawyers that we went to the crime scene," Sam scoffs.

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, I told them that we were with two police officers. And they checked it out, and they told me that there is no Detective Dean or Y/N Winchester."

"Bec-"

"No, I don't understand why you would lie to me about something like that."

"We're tryin' to help."

"Oh, trying to help? Do you realise that was a sealed crime scene? This could have just ruined Zack's case."

"Bec, I'm sorry, but-"

"No, goodbye, Sam," she says, hanging up. Dean and Y/N walk over to Sam, who looks disappointed.

"I hate to say it, but that's exactly what I'm talkin' about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they'd be freaked out. It's just-it'd be easier if-" Dean is cut off from Sam.

"If I were like you."

"Hey, man, like it or not, we are not like other people. But I'll tell you one thing: This whole gig—it ain't without perks." Dean holds up a gun, and Sam takes it and puts it in the back of his jeans. They walk away.

==

Dean, Sam, and Y/N are looking around with their flashlights and guns.

"I think we're close to its lair."

"Why do you say that?" Sam asks.

"Because there's another puke-inducing pile next to your face." Sam turns and sees another pile of blood and skin on a nearby pipe.

"Oh, God!" He says it disgustedly. They look around the area and see a pile of clothes in a corner.

"It looks like it's lived here for a whole."

"Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with?" Sam turns and sees the shapeshifter, still in the form of the Asian man, standing behind Dean. "Dean!" He turns and gets punched by the shapeshifter. He falls to the ground, and the shapeshifter runs away. Y/N shoots after it a few times but misses. Sam moves onto Dean.

"Get the son of a bitch!" The three ran away, following the shapeshifter.

[ot7always]

Ignorantly, Yours

Word Count: 10.6k

Pairing: Alpha!Jimin x Omega!Reader

Genre: Wolf!AU, Best Friends to Lovers!AU; fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: dom!Jimin, sub!reader, A/B/O dynamics, heat sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk (including a bit of possessiveness), marking, creampie, hair pulling, degradation, praise, rough sex, multiple orgasms

Rating: 18+

Summary:  You never could have expected your best friend to show up at your apartment right as you were about to go into heat, but when he did, something in you just wouldn’t let him go.

A/N: Truly, this was never supposed to be more than drabble. Which truly became a nuisance once it grew a lot and I had to go back and change a lot of things during editing. This is my first fic with some sort of supernatural element to it, and I had a lot of fun! I hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Reposted without the header gif and without any links or taglist. Sorry for any inconvenience if you were already looking at the first post. I will reblog with the taglist shortly.

--

Maybe it should have been embarrassing.

Maybe it was, 5 years ago when the habit first started.

5 years ago, when you’d had your first pre-heat. When the world had quickly become too overwhelming, your nose unused to the myriad of scents that assaulted you in your sensitivity. Your skin feeling so raw that even the clothes on your back felt uncomfortable.

It was then, in your childhood bedroom, amidst everything else, you recognized a scent that accompanied you through your life for as long as you could remember. A scent that felt like home, felt like warm days under the sun and shared laughter under blankets at midnight.

Your nose had led you to the bottom drawer of your dresser, your hands digging through the mess of fabric there until you pulled out an orange hoodie. You didn’t remember ever having it, and it looked small enough to have been from years ago – maybe even from before he presented.

But as you pulled it out of that drawer, the scent that might have been faint to you any other day filled your nostrils. A blueberry and pine scent that left you feeling calmer instantly, safer. Whether that had to do more with your friendship or his alpha status wasn’t a thought that crossed your mind. All you knew at the time was that it made everything better – he made everything better, even when he wasn’t there.

That marked the first time you laid in your bed, curling yourself around that small piece of comfort, your face shoved into the soft fabric. The peace that washed over you then was addicting, and any thought of giving up that feeling was unfathomable.

And if Jimin noticed how you were covered in his own scent when he saw you after every heat since that day, he didn’t say a thing.

--

You missed him a lot.

It wasn’t as though his university was that far away, and you should have grown used to it after several years of living apart for most of the year. Weekend visits were hardly enough when you’d spent more time together than apart growing up.

It definitely didn’t feel like enough when you were lying in bed, surrounded by the products of your skillful swiping over the years during Jimin’s visits. Hoodies, t-shirts – you had at least a dozen by now. All of which were tossed across your bed alongside you, your upper body already clad in one of his oversized hoodies.

When your pre-heat started affecting you yesterday, you’d already emailed your professors to tell them you wouldn’t be able to make it to class for the week. They, of course, understood – every university accommodated for their students to get a week off about every 3 months for this exact reason.

You were already overcome by exhaustion, Jimin’s scent wafting around the room lulling you into a sleepy daze.

It was common for an omega to nest amongst an alpha’s scent before their heat, though said alpha would typically be their partner.

It wasn’t something you liked to think on very often. Something like this couldn’t be that uncommon, right? After all, he was your first friend, and that went beyond being an alpha or omega. Besides, if it bothered him, wouldn’t he have already called you out for it by now? Wouldn’t he have said something when he realized that even when you’d started spending every heat with an alpha, his scent was still somewhere in there?

You tried not to worry too much about it. It didn’t matter, anyway.

Based on how you were feeling, you knew your heat would probably be here within 2 or 3 days. Which meant you should probably call someone soon to ask them to help you through it. It was normal practice to ask a friend to help you with your heat, but it was a line you’d never crossed with Jimin. Rejection was never something you dealt with well, and you were too afraid to put him, of all people, in that position. Knowing him, he would agree even if he didn’t want to.

Who, then? Namjoon? Hoseok? Both have agreed before, though the notion of crossing your room to pick up the phone you’d so foolishly left on the dresser was severely unappealing.

Instead, you let your eyes flutter shut, your face nuzzling into a blue and red scarf Jimin had forgotten at your apartment last winter. As the tranquility washed over you, your mind drifted closer and closer to sleep, warm and cozy and surrounded by Jimin’s scent.

Until the doorbell rang through your apartment.

At first you elected to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would get the hint and go away. But when it sounded out 2 more times after you hadn’t moved in several minutes, you groaned.

Wasn’t it bad etiquette to do this to someone? Surely that had to be written in a handbook somewhere.

With heavy limbs, you dragged yourself out of bed, flipping the hood up on your (well, Jimin’s) hoodie. As much as it may have been a bad idea to answer the door by yourself in pre-heat, your scent enveloped by an alpha’s would be enough to ward off unwanted advances. Though there were definitely bad people in the world, it took a truly insane person to go after an omega scented by an alpha.

When you made it to the door, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself to ream out whoever was on the other side. While you could sense someone’s presence there, every apartment was insulated, scent-wise, for protection. You didn’t know what to expect.

But of every possibility, when you opened the door, you didn’t expect to get assaulted by the very scent you’d been basking in only minutes ago. You didn’t notice how his eyes widened or how his pupils dilated when your scent hit him, too preoccupied by your body’s visceral reaction.

The full force of his scent almost had your knees buckling, your eyelids growing heavier as every single part of you instinctively yearned to curl up into him. Maybe your heat was closer than you thought.

When you were finally able to focus your eyes on him, his teeth were biting into his bottom lip, the hand holding an overnight bag clenched so hard his knuckles were white.

You didn’t give him the chance to say anything before you were stumbling forward, colliding messily with him, only focused on getting as close to him as possible.

You barely heard a mumbled ‘shit,’ not registering that he backed you into your apartment until you heard the door slam, his bag hitting the floor.

“Jimin,” you mumbled, your hands grasping at his shirt, eyes closed as you shoved your face into his neck, sighing happily when you were finally as close to the source of your happiness as possible.

But much to your discontent, he pushed you from him, keeping you an arms’ length away. The whimper you let out in response sounded pathetic even to your own ears, but every cell in your body was screaming to get as close to him as possible.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, the unusual hardness in his tone snapping you out of your daze slightly, wide eyes fixing onto his face. He audibly gulped at the glazed look in your eyes, before continuing. “You’re in heat.”

“I’m not,” you whined, trying to push against his hands, but he was stronger than you were.

“You will be,” he responded, letting out an incredulous sigh. “Fuck. I meant to surprise you but I forgot what the date was, I’m so sorry.”

“But I’m not yet,” you complained, changing tactics and instead aiming to shove your nose into the wrists near your shoulders. When your hair swished with your movement, sending a whiff of shampoo and your scent Jimin’s way, he groaned loudly.

“God, I can’t be here, I should go,” he said through gritted teeth. But when he started leaning down to pick his bag back up, you panicked.

“NO!” you yelled, launching yourself at him with your whole weight, not at all concerned about how he stumbled back in surprise. Your hands gripping onto his waist, you looked at him with wide eyes, your irises barely visible around the black of your dilated pupils. “Please don’t leave.”

His composure visibly cracked at the desperation on your face, but the sensation of your hands trembling in their grip on him brought him back to reality. “I can’t stay, I know that you know that-”

“Why?” you cried, your bottom lip trembling. The logical part of you deep inside knew you were being unreasonable, but even that part of you was a slave to instinct. All you knew was that Jimin got you through every pre-heat, and here Jimin was in front of you now. He’d never seen you like this, not ever in the last 5 years. And now that he has, nothing has ever been more unappealing than the thought of him walking out your front door.

He was very clearly taking shallow breaths, eventually bringing his own wrist to his nose to try to drown out everything else. Based on the low grunt he let out, it didn’t seem to be working very well.

“You smell like you’re going to go into heat at any moment, fuck, I can’t,” he panted, every part of him resisting the urge to grab you and scent you until there was absolutely no question whether you were his.

Except you weren’t his.

“I-I...” he stuttered, the scent of you not only clinging to him, but everywhere throughout the apartment occupying every part of his brain. “I need to go, I’ll call someone for you, Hoseok or-”

But that was definitely the wrong thing to say, because you sprung back from him as though you’ve been burned. When you looked at him as though he’d betrayed you, he knew he’d messed up.

“Why? You’re already here,” you spat out. “Don’t go,” you finished in a much weaker voice, pleading gaze fixing onto his.

A flash of pain went through him when he saw you hug yourself around the middle, as though to appear smaller. As though to protect yourself. From him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking of you!” you wailed, the space between you feeling wider than it’s ever been.

“I can’t,” he repeated, a tinge of desperation making its way into his tone. Why was this so hard? From what he knew about omega heats and pre-heats, without a partner or relationship you shouldn’t have cared this much about which alpha stayed with you.

“Aren’t we friends? Can’t you just stay?” you begged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Something about him trying to leave felt like a hole was being ripped through your chest, even if you’d understand why any other day.

“Of course we’re friends,” he said incredulously, a conflicted expression on his face. He knew exactly what you meant, exactly what was implied within that statement. When something like desire crossed his gaze, you felt a dash of hope bloom within you. “But...”

And it was crushed just like that. “Why don’t you want me when I want you? What’s wrong with me?” you sobbed, the tears finally spilling from your eyes as you dropped to your knees.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The smell of an omega in distress was always something that set off an alpha’s protective instinct.

But the knowledge that he was the one who caused it brought forth an ugly wrenching in his gut.

For all the required readings Jimin had done in the course of his life, nothing had ever taught him what to do when the girl you’re secretly in love with was on the floor crying because you refused to fuck her through her heat.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. God, did he want to.

But you weren’t there begging for his heart or his love or his devotion – you were begging for his body. Which wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was offended. The problem was that he wanted more than this, and that right now was most definitely not the time to have that conversation.

And it’s not that he didn’t think you knew what you wanted. He knew you knew that you were asking for sex, but he also knew that was all you were asking for. Pre-heat was about preparing for sex, not romance.

As much as a heat could completely fog an omega’s brain, in pre-heat they could still make coherent decisions. It was typically a time spent preparing for heat, a time to call an alpha or to prepare for the much more painful option of suffering alone. They were typically in a perpetual state of exhaustion, bodies crying out for sleep to save up energy for their heat.

But more importantly, it was a time where omegas were at their most emotionally vulnerable, where they gave in to instinct. A time where they surrounded themselves in the things that made them feel safest, most at home.

He knew – he knew you used his scent to get through your pre-heat, but he never thought it meant that much. You were his oldest friend, and the fact that you found comfort in his scent was never something he questioned. He was an alpha, and you scented each other often – it made sense from a biology standpoint.

And – oh.

It hit him then that this was more than an alpha’s refusal to help their friend through their heat. This was more than a refusal for sex.

This was your biggest security blanket pushing you away at your most vulnerable, the person you trusted most to keep you safe leaving you when you were begging him to stay.

He really, really fucked up by coming here.

He should have checked the dates properly in the first place, and now he’d have to deal with the consequences. There was an unbelievably high chance that if he walked out that door, you’d have a breakdown, and he couldn’t just break your heart by leaving now.

Even if it ended up breaking his own. Even if you ended up thinking nothing of it, and he would never be able to erase the memory from his brain.

Because you were begging him to stay out of instinct, out of need. Not out of love. Not that he knew of, not the kind he wanted, at least.

But there was no reason to go there or question you about it, because he knew you’d say anything to make him stay, even if it wasn’t true. Not because you were a liar, but because that’s what your body would push you to do right now.

Knowing that the smell of his own panic would just set you off more, he took a couple deep breaths before falling to his knees in front of you. He had to force down the rising upset in his chest at the scent of your tears, every part of him screaming at himself for upsetting you this deeply.

“Hey,” he called out softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull your hands away from where they were hiding your face. At the sight of your red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, his heart tugged. “Look at me.” He slipped a hand forward to cradle your head, brushing against the hair at the nape of your neck. He hoped so badly that he could be a comfort to you, even when he was the one who hurt you in the first place.

He waited almost a minute for you to look up, doing his best to calm you in that time. When you finally raised your eyes to look at him, the fear in your expression was something he’d only ever seen a few times in his life. You were an expert at putting on a brave face for the world, and seeing the uncensored pain displayed there punched him in the gut.

“Baby,” he cooed, pulling you into his arms. He carefully maneuvered your face into the crook of his neck, smiling as you melted into his hold, a content sigh leaving you. He wrapped his arms around you, face rubbing into your hair as he stopped resisting the urge to scent you. He ignored the shiver that ran down his spine at your scent that only seemed to be growing stronger.

The two of you stayed like that for several minutes, your body so limp in his grasp that he had to keep both of you upright himself. He couldn’t tell whether you were awake, goosebumps rising to the surface of his skin as your nose brushed against one of the most sensitive parts of his body.

But when he stood up, wanting to get you somewhere more comfortable than the floor, he felt every muscle in your body tense, a low whine leaving your throat. Your hands grasped onto his shirt. “Jimin-”

“Shh,” he soothed, continuing to nuzzle into you as he stood you both up. “I’m not leaving.”

“You’re not?” you repeated, muffled into his shoulder.

“I’m not.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He scratched lightly at your scalp as the other hand stroked up and down the length of your back, humming when you finally relaxed again, your arms wrapping around to tug him as close as possible. “Good girl.”

Something in him awakened when he heard the hitch of your breath at his words, but he shoved it down. He had to keep a hold of himself while he still had the chance – because once you were in heat, there would be no rest for either of you. Not when it was taking his entire focus to hold himself back right now and it was only your pre-heat.

“I’m gonna take you to your room, okay?” he asked quietly. When you nodded, he scooped you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, head lolling sleepily against his shoulder.

You were very clearly exhausted, and guilt gnawed away at him for it. The emotional ups and downs of the past half hour must have taken even more out of you – while you tended to be quiet, you were never this quiet, not with him. You seemed to be asleep, steady exhales hitting the skin of his neck.

When he entered your room, his heart skipped in his chest at the sight of his belongings strewn across your mattress, a you-sized gap in the middle where you must have been laying. He couldn’t help the pride swelling in his chest, the possessive part of him thrilled at the notion of you burying yourself in his scent.

He supposed he should be happy you were asleep. Omegas tended to be self-conscious about their nest, which was why he was surprised you agreed to let him take you here so easily. The idea that you felt comfortable enough to let him in here without a fight brought forth a feeling in his gut that felt suspiciously like butterflies.

Easing off the shoes he’d never had the chance to remove at the front door, he brought you both down into the bed, careful not to jostle your form. He laid you down together, your body atop his, heart melting at your tiny noise of content.

He had to bite back a moan when you nuzzled further into his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.

Get it together, Jimin.

He didn’t know if he would ever be relaxed enough to sleep when you were on top of him already smelling like every sinful desire he’s ever had. His cock shouldn’t have been stirring when you looked so innocent, your hands curled up ever-so-slightly under his shirt. And despite everything in his mind telling him that he would regret this, his entire body was screaming in anticipation for this entire weekend.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s helped an omega through their heat, but everything was different because this was you. Someone he cared about, someone he loved, and he knew you loved him too, whether it was in the way he wanted or not. Heat flared in him at the thought of you wet and desperate only for him, begging to be filled. He knew you’d be out of your mind with lust, and even before seeing it he knew it would be the most beautiful sight he’s ever set eyes upon.

Get a hold of yourself, Jimin.

It was absolutely no use to contemplate these things now, especially not when the scent of his arousal might wake you up and set you off prematurely. You both needed rest – he’d be damned if he didn’t make this the best heat you’d ever had just because he was tired.

And so he wrapped his arms around your middle, willing arousal from his brain and replacing it with thoughts of sleep. Luckily, his body must have been able to sense his need for rest before the upcoming days, and sleep found him easier than anticipated.

--

You awoke to your back hitting your mattress, the first thing you noticed being that your body felt like it was being burned alive. But when you inhaled, the scent of pure alpha overtook all thought, brain incapable of anything other than unadulterated need, arousal shooting to your core almost instantaneously.

When your eyes shot open, fire lit within you when they immediately locked onto Jimin’s dark gaze, his body hovering over yours like he was about to pounce. When he took in the neediness in your eyes, his lip upturned in a salacious smirk, stare burning holes into you.

“Rise and shine, little wolf,” he drawled, hands locking onto your ankles and dragging you down the bed until your face was right below his.

You shivered despite yourself at the predatory expression on his face, holding back the whine that threatened to escape. You felt incapable of speaking, every intake of breath only fogging your mind further, the fire in you becoming so potent it was painful.

You couldn’t help the keening whimper that escaped when he roughly fisted a hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, yanking until your entire neck was on display. You gasped and arched into his body with want as he leaned in to inhale deeply right above your collarbone. The feral growl he let out at your scent had you shuddering, trembling hands trying desperately to pull him closer, but he didn’t relent.

“Please,” you begged, shoving your body upwards as much as possible, desperate to feel his body against your own. At the feeling of his canines brushing against the skin of your neck gently, you felt new wetness rush from you. Your desperation was only growing exponentially with every passing moment, and it felt like if you didn’t get touched soon, you would surely die.

“You smell so fucking good,” he snarled, voice raspier than you’d ever heard it before. He sounded almost pained, and it only set you off further. Everything in you ached for his touch, your cunt clenching around nothing despite Jimin not even having touched you yet. You needed it – needed to be touched, you needed him to quell the ache.

“Hurts,” you gasped out, still trying and failing to grind against his body above you.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry,” he cooed, pressing his free palm down onto your clothed centre. His breath hitched as you started forcefully grinding against it immediately, a choked whine slipping from your lips at the sudden pressure right where you needed it most.

“Alpha...” you moaned, rutting shamelessly against his hand as you pushed further against the hand in your hair, baring more of the soft expanse of your neck. Your eyes shut as pleasure rocked your system, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more, his cock in your drenched cunt, his nails raking down your body as he utterly ravished you. You whined loudly at the thought, arousal slipping from you. It was clear he noticed when he hissed.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re dripping, so fucking desperate,” he panted, somehow sounding almost as ruined as you. “I’m gonna fuck this cunt senseless, fill you up so good you’ll never ask for anyone else again. Do you want that, little omega? Want me to make you mine?”

Any other time you might have questioned his possessive words, but any rational part of your brain was long gone. No, all that existed was you, Jimin, and your excruciating need to be filled.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried, whimpering at the imagery he put in your head. You wanted nothing more than to be his bitch, to take his cock and his seed and his knot. “Fuck me, please.”

“You beg so nicely,” he breathed, and you keened at the praise. You gasped as he sat back and quite literally ripped the shirt from your body, following suit with the rest of your clothes. You didn’t have it in you to complain, not when he was yanking your legs apart, gaze laser-focused onto your centre. “Don't worry, baby, your alpha is gonna take care of you, okay?”

You only nodded furiously, hips bucking upward suddenly as Jimin wasted no more time, two fingers smearing through your heat before thrusting abruptly into you. You finally felt some sort of relief at being filled, but it wasn’t enough. The stretch wasn’t satisfying enough, and your desire for more only amplified. But it seemed he knew this, adding another finger wordlessly.

“God, this cunt is so fucking hungry for me,” he growled, pistoning his fingers in and out roughly before grinding the heel of his hand into your clit.

You cried out as pleasure reared on you embarrassingly quickly, but no part of you wanted to cum without his cock inside you, dragging against your sensitive walls.

“Jimin...” you moaned, arching your back as you sought to push yourself closer to the source of your pleasure. He almost groaned at the sound of his name coming so wantonly from your lips. “Want you, please.”

“Yeah? You want to get stuffed?”

The garbled response you gave was nowhere near coherent, but it didn’t take a genius to see what you wanted. When he gave a low chuckle and pulled himself from his sweatpants, you started salivating immediately. He was girthy, vein visibly spanning the underside beneath his hand as he palmed himself. The head looked almost purple, the tip leaking. You needed it inside you.

Before you even realized it yourself, you were turning over onto your front. By the time you’d planted your face down, ass up, Jimin was already growling, roughly digging his fingers into your asscheeks. As several more seconds went by without his cock in you, you arched your back further, whining as he only dug his fingertips in harder.

“Such a good little wolf,” he crooned, hissing when your arousal dripped from your pussy to the bed. “Getting yourself so nice and ready for me. You need cock that badly? Can’t wait for it?”

You could have cried when you finally felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, but you didn’t have time to do or say anything before he shoved all the way in to the hilt without warning.

You must have screamed then, but you hardly noticed anything apart from the way he set a quick pace, hardly noticed when the tears left your eyes, body swimming in relief and euphoria. Every snap of his hips brought forth a moan from your lips, fingers digging helplessly into the sheets by your head.

“Tell me how it feels,” he snarled, moving to hold your hips up when the overwhelming pleasure left you unable to do it yourself.

It was all you could do to whimper, body feeling as though it was in the clouds as your walls clamped down on Jimin’s cock. He was stretching you so well, the slight burn nothing compared to the waves of pleasure he was sending through your entire being. You took a breath to respond to him once you registered what he said, but when his cock brushed against that spot inside you, it only left you as a choked moan.

“This needy cunt just sucks me right in, huh?” he groaned when your walls clenched down on him again, as though to trap him inside you. But it made no difference to him, his thrusts only continuing, fast and precise as your walls fluttered around him, whines falling from your lips. Recalling how responsive you’d been to praise earlier, he kept talking. “Doing such a good job for me, baby,” he hummed, smirking when he felt the shuddering of your body beneath his hands. “So fucking perfect for me, taking this cock so well.”

His words shot through you like fire, and combined with the drag of him inside you, you were propelled toward your end.

“Alpha...” you whimpered, pushing back onto his cock, a particularly rough thrust pulling a shout from your lips. You were so close to slipping over the edge, the squeezing of your walls around him more and more insistent as you approached your end. “Please.” It was as though no other words existed in your vocabulary, but Jimin could read you perfectly well, as though he was made for you.

“What’s that, hm? Baby’s gonna cum?” he taunted before reaching around to rub at your clit. “Let go then, milk my cock. I want to hear you.”

The added stimulation was more than enough to propel you into your orgasm, your mouth agape as your walls clamped down on his cock. You distantly registered Jimin’s moans from above you as he held you up and fucked you through your it, the sparks of pleasure never-ending.

But while his thrusts became less harsh, they did not lower in their intensity whatsoever. And as the fog in your head receded some from your orgasm, you only felt that much more sensation as you regained your bearings.

Rather than a mindless slave to pleasure and want, with your brain partly yours again you could truly feel. Feel the cotton of the sheets where they were clenched between your fists, feel the slight strain in your knees as they dug into the mattress, feel Jimin’s fingers anchored onto your hips, as though you would float away if he let go.

You could truly feel every drag of his cock against you, every grind, and when he perfectly maneuvered to hit against your g-spot, you were left breathless once again.

But with your increased coherence, your body craved more than just cock – you wanted closeness, wanted Jimin’s body against your own, his groans in your ear, his chest against your back.

“Jimin,” you called out, voice needy but noticeably more present.

His thrusts slowed but didn’t stop. “Hm?”

Rather than attempt to formulate an answer, you blindly reached a hand in his direction and made a grabbing motion. It was accompanied by your best impression of some sort of demanding noise, but you sounded like a spoiled brat even to your own ears.

He clearly didn’t mind though, huffing a laugh at your antics before coming down to your level, pressing some of his weight into your back as he nuzzled your neck.

“This what you want, baby?” he asked, wrapping his arms snugly around your middle. It would almost be cute, if not for the snap of his hips he opted to punctuate his question with.

You could only shiver and take it as he set a slow but intense pace, his cock slowly dragging out of you before he thrusted forward quickly in one single motion. But even in its intensity it was intimate, his lips tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin of your shoulder, his moans increasing in volume as you whined your pleasure.

His pace slowly but surely built you back up toward a second release, Jimin’s thrusts growing faster as he approached his own end. It wasn’t long before your moans were increasing in volume again, hips squirming beneath Jimin’s as that pressure in your abdomen only built and built.

“Gonna cum for me again, little wolf?” he growled directly into your ear, digging his fingers in close to your scalp and pulling your face up out of the sheets. No longer muffled, your moans were loud and unabashed, your pleasure surrendered entirely to him.

“I’m gonna fill this cunt up, gonna stretch you wide, is that what you want?”

As much as you were more coherent than last time, the effect his voice had on you was visceral, eyelids fluttering shut and goosebumps raising on your skin. When you only nodded with what little movement you could make within his grasp, he growled.

“Answer me!”

“Yes, yes!” you pleaded, eager to please. “Want you to fill me up, Jimin, please.”

“Such a good girl,” he moaned in response, moving to suck bruises into your neck. The thought of being marked by him for all to see only lit a new fire within you.

But when you felt the press of his canines brushing against the sensitive part of your neck, it was as though something in you snapped. You almost squealed as the orgasm rained down on you unexpectedly, something resembling ‘Jimin’ spilling from your lips, though you paid it no mind.

You were so lost in your pleasure you hardly noticed Jimin’s gruff yell from above you as he came, only registering it as his knot started to stretch you.

He shushed you gently as you whined, warmth still spilling into you as it finished inflating. Panting breathlessly against your back, he softly cupped your face as you caught your breath.

The stretch was more overwhelming than painful, every tiny movement seeming to shift his knot inside you enough to make you gasp. You should have grown used to the feeling by this point in your life, but it managed to catch you off guard every single time. You never felt ready for the immense stretch or the soreness that lingered between waves of your heat.

After several minutes of silence, breaths finally quieting, he spoke up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hands reaching to keep you from squirming too much under him, knowing you’d only make the discomfort worse. “Relax for me.”

You nodded in response, letting yourself release the tension from your limbs as he continued to gently nose at your neck. His scent washed over you, but in this brief limbo between waves of your heat it spurred only calmness rather than arousal.

For you, at least, the first wave was always the worst in terms of self-control and mindedness. That was why it was essential for omegas to share their heat only with someone they could trust – if not a partner, then a friend. While omegas were at their most emotionally vulnerable during pre-heat, they were at their most physically vulnerable during the heat itself. In theory, Jimin could have done whatever he wanted, and you would have begged for it.

He hummed in approval when you went still beneath him, rolling the two of you onto your side so that you were no longer supporting his weight.

“Sleepy?” he inquired softly as he watched you stifle a yawn.

You only nodded again, reaching for Jimin’s hand to make him wrap it around you more snugly, pressing yourself as close to him as possible. You shivered as his knot shifted with your movement, though it didn’t ache as much as it did initially. You felt so full, his cock still half-hard within you, release still painting your walls with nowhere to go.

You let your eyes shut, soreness and exhaustion taking up residence temporarily before the next wave. As much as a heat could feel so intense it hurt, you found that the time between each wave was truly the most difficult. It was the time where every ounce of muscle pain and sleep deprivation hit you, but it was also the time where, to put it simply, if you didn’t recharge you were fucked.

Heats were strenuous on the body, and it unfortunately wasn’t abnormal for omegas to be brought to the emergency room from dehydration and malnutrition from their heat. That was why the medical professionals tended to encourage of-age omegas to spend their heats with a trusted partner – it was just safer altogether. It was difficult to push past the fog of exhaustion to take care of yourself when you were on your own, though not impossible.

A tiny whine was the only acknowledgment you gave when you felt his knot go down enough to slip from you. You made a noise of complaint as Jimin pulled from your side, but he quickly returned to you, wiping away the mess that was now between your thighs.

“If I help you, can you sit up?”

After hearing your noise of affirmation, he pulled you up so that your back rested against the headboard, careful not to move you too quickly. But despite that, you couldn’t help the lightheaded feeling that came with the motion, reaching out to steady yourself on Jimin’s arm.

When he took in your rapid blinking and unfocused eyes, his concern grew exponentially. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Tired,” you mumbled, leaning into his touch when he moved to stroke your face.

“Let’s eat something and then we can nap, okay?”

“Mm.”

He moved away from you quickly to grab things from under your bed. One of the first things they taught omegas after presenting was that it was essential to keep a food and drink store in your room during your heat. One of the most important parts of pre-heat was not only securing a heat partner if desired, but also packing enough nutrient-rich food and drinks to last through your heat if you’re unable to leave the room.

You hadn’t realized you’d dozed off until Jimin’s hand on your shoulder startled you awake. He took your hand in his own only to wrap your fingers around an energy bar he’d opened for you.

“Eat,” he commanded, though the soft, caring tone characteristic of Jimin never left his voice.

The thought of putting in effort to do anything was unappealing, but once you started, you realized how famished you were. When you finished your first bar within moments, he handed you a second, eating some for himself at the same time.

He didn’t waste any time with handing you a Gatorade bottle once you were finished eating, ensuring you could hold it yourself before getting his own.

As much as he seemed to be in a rush, this was a better safe than sorry type of situation. While sometimes you could squeeze in some sleep between waves of your heat, it sometimes felt like one huge gamble in terms of time. You’ve had downtimes of as little as 10 minutes in the past, so you were grateful that he was hurrying you along.

When he noticed you stopped drinking, he grabbed it from you to place it on the nightstand a safe distance away from the bed.

“Do you want anything else?” he asked, shoving all of the garbage into a bag to deal with another time.

“You.”

He turned around quickly, thinking you were going into your next wave, but froze at the sight of you simply blinking up at him sleepily.

He bit down on his lip to suppress a fond smile when you reached for his hand, severely hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

He let you tug him forward, settling beside you in bed before pulling you securely into his side.

As much as you might have loved to talk or quietly cuddle, you were out like a light as soon as you laid your head down on his shoulder, face tucked securely into his neck.

--

The next two days went by in a blur. You never tended to remember very many specific moments from your heats besides that you felt good, and were definitely sore after. The combination of physical and mental exhaustion along with the mind-numbing desire didn’t seem to be conducive to proper brain function.

Fuck. Eat. Fuck. Eat. Nap. Rinse. Repeat.

“Kiss me,” you demanded, pulling Jimin down toward you by his shoulders.

From what you could tell, it was the last day of your heat, also making for the most coherent day. The consequences of not sating your heat on the last day were more uncomfortable than painful, and the sex almost resembled what it would any other day.

He obliged you easily, mouth meeting yours as he snapped his hips, filling you up and stretching you all in one stroke. He nipped at your lower lip as you moaned freely, arching your back to feel as much of his skin as possible.

You couldn’t help the increase in volume when he settled with his length in you, grinding his pubic bone into your clit. It seemed that Jimin was feeling similarly, both of you simply panting by each other's mouths rather than doing any sort of kissing like you’d intended.

It was only minutes before you felt the familiar tightening in your abdomen, Jimin groaning above you when he felt you clench around him. You whimpered as he sucked new bruises into the skin of your neck, a shiver making its way down your spine as he reached the soft skin below your ear.

But every part of you was screaming out for more.

“Mark me.”

Jimin froze instantly at your words, but it seemed that you weren’t properly considering the weight of your words, only urging him to continue his motions in search of your high.

A mark wasn’t permanent, but it was no small thing. More than a mark of “possession,” it was a mark of an alpha's care and loyalty, a mark of an omega’s trust. It was only something ever shared in serious relationships, and it would sometimes take partners years to reach that point.

“Jimin,” you whined when he ignored what you said. Every instinctive part of you wanted it so badly, your head subconsciously tipping back to give him easier access.

“No.”

“Jimin...”

“Don’t you know what you’re saying?”

“Please-”

“I said no,” he snarled, speeding up the snap of his hips enough that you were shifting up the bed. “Tomorrow, when this is all over,” he panted above you, teeth bared, “Then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t let you get a word in edgewise, continuously pulling himself from you fully before abruptly sheathing himself to the hilt once again.

You were left gasping for breath, swimming in sensation as your abdomen tightened, all else forgotten for the time being.

When he shifted to one side, a hand dropping to rub circles into your clit, you saw white. Your nails sharply dug into the skin of Jimin’s back where they were held, waves of pleasure battering you nonstop as he continued his thrusts.

But it was only moments later that he seated himself into you fully, warmth spilling into you as his knot inflated for the nth time since your heat began. It didn’t leave you gasping the same way as the first time, but a groan still wrenched itself from your throat at the sensation.

As soon as his body collapsed onto yours, you knew that your heat was finally over. The feeling was inexplicable, almost as though a weight had been lifted from the back of your mind.

You might have addressed the words uttered from your mouth only moments before if not for the debilitating fatigue that filled every limb and every square inch of your brain.

So, against your best judgment on any other day, you knocked right out.

--

When you next awoke, it wasn’t because desire ripped you from slumber, nor was it because your scent set off Jimin enough to wake you.

In fact, you were alone in your bed, immediately cringing at the sight of all the questionable stains dotting the sheets.

Good thing you had a mattress pad.

You sat up, wincing as every muscle screamed in protest. From your neck all the way to your fingertips, everything hurt. You’d probably be feeling this for days. It definitely didn’t help that the stench of sex was so strong you could feel a headache coming on.

You didn’t have time to ponder on Jimin’s whereabouts before he was coming back in through the doorway, half-dressed with water in hand.

He sent you a smile when you met eyes, but it was lost on you because as soon as he was here, every interaction over the past few days flooded your mind at once. And this time, there were no hormones to mask proper thought.

You asked – no, begged – him to stay. Even when he told you no.

You’d practically thrown a tantrum, what was wrong with you? Since when did your pre-heat make you throw respect out the window?

He wasn’t here because he wanted to stay, he was here because you forced him to. He was here because you were pathetic enough to get on the floor and beg him to stay, and Jimin, for the life of him, didn’t know how to say no to people. How could he look at you right now?

“Y/N?” he called, sounding puzzled. He must be able to smell your rising distress coming off you in waves, but you paid him no mind as you continued to recall the past few days, hating yourself more and more with every passing second.

You’d basically forced him to stay with you and fuck you for nearly four days without ever talking about it before.

It was more difficult to put together the pieces of what happened in your heat, memories mostly a blur of pleasure and then sleep.

But-

Fuck.

“Mark me.”

Your blood ran cold instantly.

Were you fucking insane? You dug your fingernails into your palms harshly to check if you were dreaming. Unluckily for you, you weren’t.

Was there any coming back from this? You couldn’t blame him if he could never look at you the same, if he never spoke to you again. Who would tell their heat partner – the first time they spent a heat together – to mark them?

It didn’t matter that you’d known each other since before you were even forming proper memories. It didn’t matter, because that wasn’t how this worked. You didn’t just ask your friends to mark you, no matter how much you loved each other.

A mark was something you shared with someone you intended to be lifelong partners with. Someone you’d dedicate your life to, someone you might want to have kids with someday.

God, what was wrong with you?

You didn’t notice his approach until a hand met your shoulder, too engrossed in staring at the floor as thoughts whirred in your head.

“What is it?” he asked, concern quickly turning into panic at finding you in this state with no explanation.

But it was as though with one touch, the floodgates broke, and angry tears started spilling from your eyes. Tears that had nothing to do with Jimin and everything to do with yourself.

He jumped back slightly in surprise, and you didn’t give him the chance to touch you again before you were furiously wiping the wetness from your face.

“God, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he questioned frantically, hands returning to your shoulders as he angled his face to try to meet yours, but you only kept turning your head to avoid him. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself, whether to join you on the bed or continue hovering awkwardly from the bedside. “Talk to me, please-”

“Do you hate me?” you choked out, eyes fixed on a random, insignificant spot on the sheets.

That seemed to quiet him instantly. “Huh?”

“I forced you here,” you whispered, though it seemed that the words didn’t want to stop once they started, volume only rising as you carried on. “You came here to be nice and then you tried to leave and I didn’t let you. You said no so many times and I begged you to stay until you couldn’t say no anymore! I don’t even know what I was thinking, I guess I wasn’t thinking at all-”

“Hey-”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how you must think of me right now but I wouldn’t blame you if you thought I was disgusting, I think I’m disgusting, god-”

“Hey, look at me,” he urged, prodding lightly at your chin until you raised your head enough to meet his gaze. When he saw your red eyes and miserable expression, it was as though a piece of himself broke. “I stayed because I wanted to.”

“You didn't, I remember you told me no, you ‘wanted to’ because I made you.”

“It’s not like that,” he replied, expression almost pained.

“Don’t lie to me to make me feel better,” you snarled, though it came off more broken than aggressive. “Stop trying to protect me, tell me when you’re mad at me!”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Jimin-”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

The sudden question was enough to give you pause. “You know I do.”

He took a moment to settle onto the bed beside you, stretching out an arm to invite you in to lay with him. After only a moment of hesitation, you did.

“Then trust me when I say I wanted to stay,” he said firmly, stroking calming circles into your side. “You know I don’t like lying to you.”

It was true, he didn’t. Which summoned the question – if he wanted to stay, why did he refuse so many times? Were you sure he wasn’t lying now?

No – that wasn’t Jimin. Plus, you knew him so well that you doubted he would lie to you about something this serious, not when he was such an open book. But you didn’t have long to think about it before he piped up again.

“You asked me something yesterday,” he started, and you could hear in his tone that he was treading carefully.

You tensed up immediately when you processed his words, breath quickening as you anticipated what he was about to say. Was this the part where he told you he’s not mad he stayed, but he never wanted to speak to you again? You’d relaxed enough in the past few minutes that you’d almost forgotten about what you’d said yesterday. Almost.

“Why?” he asked simply.

Why. An obscenely loaded question contained within one 3-letter word. And yet, an answer wasn’t so easy.

“I don’t know,” you stalled.

“Don’t do that,” he scolded. “Really think. I know you, and I know you’d never be that nonchalant about a mark, ever. What changed?”

“Nothing changed!”

He only turned to give you a disapproving look before leaning his head back against the headboard and shutting his eyes. It was clear that he wasn’t going to make any more conversation until you properly pondered his question and gave him a real answer.

Why?

Did you even know why?

You wished you could say it just slipped out, that there was no other reason.

Maybe any other time you’ve said something questionable or downright stupid that would fly, but not for something like this.

Even at their drunkest, people didn’t ask their friends to marry them with the full intent of following through and starting life as an actual married couple.

Just the same, an omega doesn’t just ask a friend to mark them, mate them, not even in heat. Omega heats made it a fairly common occurrence to fuck your friends (at least, a select few) while unmarked, and it wasn’t as though the desire to be marked stemmed from a heat. If it were, platonic marking would be a thing already. And sure, marking made sex feel better, but heats were sexual, and marks were... more.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? There was no easy excuse, no escaping this.

One might say an omega was a slave to instinct in their heat, but instinct didn’t come from nowhere.

The instinct to nest came from the pursuit of safety in a vulnerable time. The instinct to ‘hibernate’ came from the need to save up energy for a heat. The instinct to scent came from the desire for intimacy and comfort. The instinct to fuck came from hormonal cycles and the body’s inherent goal to breed.

The instinct to be marked as an omega? To ask for it?

The need for emotional security, to know that your feelings were returned – attraction, desire, love.

Love?

If your love for Jimin was supposed to be a secret, it wasn’t a very well-kept one. You talked every day since you were kids, knew each other's mannerisms so well you didn’t need words to communicate, gravitated toward each other in every group setting, cried together when you separated for university...

You loved him, without a doubt. It was obvious. But was it more than that? Was your body trying to tell you something that you didn’t even consider?

“I...” you started but immediately trailed off, limbs so tense you almost seemed ready to run away. This wasn’t a conversation you ever imagined could take place.

“Don’t be scared. You can tell me anything.” Were you imagining things, or did his tone sound almost... hopeful?

“I’ve never asked someone to mark me before this.”

He only hummed lowly in response. You knew that he knew this already, but it seemed that this time, he wouldn’t call you out for circling around the question.

“I’ve never met someone who I felt more for than you. Safe, comfortable, happy, loved.” You paused, taking a deep breath. “I love you a lot, you know?”

His breath hitched despite himself, even though he knew you didn’t mean what he wanted you to mean. “I know,” he replied, sounding almost disappointed.

“But...”

“But?” he responded, allowing that tiny thread of hope to wind around his heart one more time.

“But I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you finished, panic increasing exponentially by the end of your sentence, your body almost feeling as though it was trembling.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he rushed, bringing you closer to rub his cheek into your hair. Was it cruel of him to feel some sort of joy at your words when you were clearly scared and confused?

His scent washing over you helped calm you some, but even still, you couldn’t stop thinking. What were you feeling? Did you want something more than friendship, or was this entire situation just putting thoughts in your head? Sure, you were undeniably compatible sexually, and sure, you found him attractive, but did you want a relationship? A romantic one? But even then, how much would that really change? What did you want? Would Jimin be disgusted with you? Let you down easily? It would have to be the latter, right?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

“No,” you cut him off.

“Huh?”

“You should’ve. I can’t be stupid forever.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“I am stupid, what kind of person doesn’t know whether they...” Even despite knowing he could tell exactly what you were trying to say, the words wouldn’t come from your lips. Were you in denial? Embarrassed? Something else?

“Emotions don’t have to be straightforward.”

“I wish they were.”

He breathed a laugh at that. “Believe me, I know.”

“Jimin, be honest with me.”

“I’m always honest with you.”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, you have this friend. You’re very good friends – best friends even. You see each other as much as possible, all that. And she tells you one day she wants to talk.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

“Uhhhhh...” you paused, pulling out the first name that came to mind. “Susan.”

He choked back a laugh, though you could still feel his chest bouncing beneath your head. “My friend Susan. Okay, go on.”

“And she tells you that something happened, and it spurred this huge train of thought that had never occurred to her before. Something that made her think about your entire relationship as friends, and made her think about herself.”

“Uh huh...”

“And she had to wonder, how much of her heart was invested in this relationship? That answer was easy – all of it. But what really had her confused was what parts of her heart were in it.”

You fidgeted nervously, but instead of saying something, Jimin only reached for one of your hands, intertwining your fingers together.

“But what really scared her the most was – how would you react? What happens when your best friend tells you that maybe your love for them extends beyond friendship?”

You took several deep breaths, trying to muster up the courage to finish the ‘story’ you’ve started. There was no backing out of this now. Your hand squeezed his hard enough that it must have hurt him, though he didn’t seem to mind.

“If she told you she thought she loved you as more than a friend, how would you respond?” you asked, trying to inject as much nonchalance into your voice as possible and failing miserably. You could feel your palms getting sweatier, and you thought your teeth might chew straight through your bottom lip. You held your breath once you heard Jimin take one of his own, preparing mentally for whatever was about to leave his lips.

“I would tell her I love her back.”

It was as though time stopped. “You... you what?”

Unwilling to let you hide your face anymore, he pulled you over so that you were straddling him, your heart filling when your eyes met his, full of honesty and understanding and... love.

“I would tell her I love her back. That if she wanted me, I was hers.”

Your eyes searched his face desperately for several seconds longer, waiting for the moment this bliss would break, the moment he took his words back, left you heartbroken before you’d even properly processed that it was his to break. But that moment never came.

“Really?” you whispered, eyes wide and screaming with vulnerability, but also wonder. The petty part of him wished he could fault you for being so oblivious, but it wasn’t your fault that you two had simply never outgrown the innocent intimacy from childhood, even after presenting.

“Really.”

“I do want it. You. I want to try. If you can be patient with me.”

“Okay. Give me a chance and I’ll make you fall in love with me for sure.”

“Oh.” As hard as you tried to purse your lips, the smile still broke its way through, eyes crinkling happily as every insecurity felt like it left at once. Was it this easy? Could happiness come so quickly in a moment, just like that?

“Oh,” he replied simply, beam splitting his face at your barely-contained joy, your expression so innocent even after all that happened the past few days.

“Oh,” you repeated, though this time the word undoubtedly seemed to harbour more weight, brows furrowing.

“Hm?”

“That’s why you said no, isn’t it? The reason you wanted to stay but tried to leave?”

The sad smile that spread across his face at that was all the answer you needed, the briefly-forgotten guilt coming back instantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he assured, pulling you close enough that your bodies were plastered together. “It all worked out anyway, right?”

You nodded, relaxing in his arms. If your brain wasn’t going a mile a minute right now, you were so comfortable you could’ve slept like this.

You allowed yourself several minutes to simply lay in his arms, that familiar blueberry-pine scent making you heart feel lighter and lighter.

“So,” you mumbled.

“So.”

“What changes now?”

“What do you want to change?” he replied.

“I asked first.”

He chuckled lightly. “Fine. Well...” You leaned back in confusion when he started pushing you up and off of him. “I think being able to do this is a good change.”

He leaned his face into yours, giving you a moment to back away before gently pressing his plush lips to yours.

You’d kissed already in your heat – you remembered that much. But this wasn’t a kiss that demanded your surrender, nor was it fast, or rough. It was just soft, intimate – because sometimes, emotions were easier said through actions rather than words.

You slid your hands into his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp as you deepened the kiss. His hands traced nonsensical patterns into the skin of your back, holding you close as though you’d ever want to leave. It was so easy to get lost in him, in the way he held you, touched you, kissed you, as though you were something to be cherished.

It wasn’t long before the kiss started to get more heated, though, and you couldn’t help yourself from nipping at his bottom lip. He made a low noise in response, a hand moving to grip your ass as the other winded its way into your hair.

It was when his hand made contact with your bare ass that you remembered that you were naked throughout this entire ordeal. And just as you processed that, his hand started inching its way slowly but surely between your legs.

“I think the fuck not, Park Jimin,” you gasped, breaking the kiss and throwing his hand from your body.

He burst into bright laughter at your words, eyes forming crescents that would make any person’s day better. His happiness was contagious, and you couldn’t hold back the giggles at the sound of him.

“How sore are you?” he questioned, tiny giggles still escaping him. You thought you detected a hint of concern somewhere in there, but you couldn’t blame him for being in an obscenely good mood.

“Ugh. Are you not sore at all?”

“Not really? Mostly hungry, I guess.”

“I hate you. It feels like all of my limbs want to detach from their sockets, and don’t even get me started on what it feels like between my legs. You and your dick can go die.”

Your words only set off another round of laughter from him, his grin wide as he took in your fake pout.

“Are you sure you want that? You seemed to enjoy it from where I was standing. You’re sending me mixed signals here,” he teased.

You let out a childish noise of complaint. God, was this what you were getting yourself into? You were already used to his antics by now, but now you had to deal with them while he flirted too? Someone send help.

“Pity me a bit,” you whined, giving him the best wide-eyed pout you could muster. Though, it only seemed to raise his mood even more.

“I’m sorry I broke you,” he said.

You smacked him a bit harder than you would normally. “Jiminnnnnnnnn,” you said, stringing out the word for as long as a breath would allow.

“If I made you food, would you forgive me?”

“...I’m listening.”

“What if I said I already made you food?”

“What?!” you perked up, any grudge you might have held disappearing in an instant. “What did you make?”

“Lay down and find out in 5 minutes, I’m tired,” he responded, laying down comfortably and encouraging you to do the same. You didn’t require much convincing, cuddling back into his side. This position wasn’t anything abnormal for you two, but it felt different now. Newer, more intimate.

Needless to say, 5 minutes turned into 2 hours after you’d both fell asleep.

But when Jimin placed a bowl of re-heated stir-fry in front of you 2 hours later, you would say he secured his place as fully, unequivocally yours.

[xeulousluv]

Almost

AN: Hello everyone, I am fairly new to posting on this app, so therefore I am still learning how to use it. Hehe :) Anyways, I hope you are having a great day!

Warning: Nothing really, maybe a little bit of angst? 

Zayn and Y/n broke up and all he’s left with are the videos she took during their senior year of high school.

September 1st, 2010: 

The camera was set up in her hand as she was slightly fixing her hair, a huge smile plastered on her makeup covered face. He always thought she looked better without makeup, but sometimes you couldn’t beat the insecurities. 

“Here we are, the first day of senior year! How are we feeling, Zayn?” 

Next to her stood himself, a much younger version of himself. Two years to be exact. He was almost unrecognizabel, with his usual high school attire adoring his body. A white tee-shirt, black skinny jeans, and not to mention his varsity football jacket hanging off of his shoulders. She looked lovingly at her boyfriend, her eyelashes beating against the softness of her rounded cheeks. 

“I’m ready to get out of here, the last three years were the upmost worst years of my life.” Zayn spoke truthfully, he hadn’t expected to make it past the ninth grade, but with the help of Y/n, he managed to make it all the way to his graduating year. Y/n gave him an offended look before responding, “Hey! If it weren’t for these last three years, you would’ve never met me, let alone had the courage to talk to me. Am I really that bad?” 

She laughed out while speaking, all so he knows that she is joking and would never accuse him of thinking such things. Though, he was already two steps ahead of her and was laughing along at her sad attempt of looking offended. “Of course not, baby. You are what kept me going.” With that, Zayn kissed her temple and she let out a small giggle before stopping the camera. 

September 5th, 2010:

Random small talk was heard on the computer sitting in front of Zayn, before her face showed with a bright glow. She was so beautiful it almost hurt. She was laughing at something her friend Emery said, though it was completely inaudible, he just let the smile take over his face hearing her laugh again. 

“I don’t exactly know why I turned this on, but hello! We successfully made it through the first week of school, and let me just say, it was not fun. The teachers still hate me.” Again, Y/n laughed towards the camera. 

“I remember this one time last year when Mr. Lambert threw me out of class because I wouldn’t stop laughing. In my defence, he was talking about the safety of condoms and Zayn kept mocking him. That was a detention worth going to.” Zayn remembered that day clearly. He sat to the left of Y/n, Mr. Lambert’s first mistake, and would whisper in her ear how he would show her the proper way to wear a condom when they got to her house that night. To say he did end up showing her was an understatement. 

The camera then turned to her friend before she continued on with what she was saying, “Anyways, Emery here, has informed me about this back to school party for seniors at Anthony Stilettos house. So, we are heading to the mall so we can get a nice looking outfit for tonight. I’ll see you guys later!”  And with that the camera switched off.

He thought that was the end of the video, but when she popped back on his screen, he was pleasantly surprised. She wore a black dress that just reached her knees, the end of it rippled and flew each time she took a step. Her hair and makeup was done, and her shoes matched her dress, she really was the most beautiful person he has ever met. 

Without saying anything, Y/n moved the camera to where the view was now on Emery. She wore a simple tight red dress that fit her like a glove, she was placing bobby pins in her hair before realising a camera was watching her every move. Emery turned away from the mirror Y/n had in her room, and started making random poses into the camera. The video finally ended with Y/n facing the camera back to herself while laughing at it. 

October 7th, 2010: 

It was homecoming. Their final homecoming, and of course, Zayn asked her to be his date. He didn’t go all out like the previous years, this particular year was asked right after they finished giving each other their all. They were bunched up together, all sweaty and breathless, and that is when Zayn asked her to go to homecoming with him. He thought it was gross because of their previous activities, but Y/n thought it was sweet, endearing even. It was personal and intimate, she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Plus, she was tired of all the attention that comes with getting asked to homecoming. 

Her dress was a beautiful shade of baby yellow, Zayn wore his usual black suit but with a yellow tie and a yellow rose pinned to his coat pocket. The night couldn’t have been anymore magical. 

“Z, are you ready to go? Emmy and Dallas are waiting in the car.” Her soft voice echoed through the speakers, she was worried about being late. But more so, excited about what the night had planned for the couple. Zayn was fixing his hair, like he does any other day, however today, he wanted to look his absolute best. “Just one more second, love. Gotta look perfect before leaving these four secured walls.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes into the camera before another smile took over her face. It only got wider as he finally announced that he was ready. 

“Baby, you look handsome! You don’t need all that hair gel, make one wrong move and we’re calling you Uncle Jesse.” Zayn scoffed, his hands finding their place on her hips, him being pressed up against her back. His chin resting on her shoulder, they looked so in love. They were so in love. 

October 31st, 2010: 

Fall was Y/n’s favorite season, meaning Halloween was by far her favorite holiday. She squealed into the camera when Zayn walked out in his Peter Pan costume. “Baby, you look so fucking adorable!” She cooed, though Zayn was having none of it. “Do we have to go to this party? Can’t we just stay in and watch scary movies, I promise I will protect you if you get too scared!”

He knew it was no use, Y/n had been going on and on about Anthony’s costume party for the past week, so when she started laughing, Zayn internally groaned. “Brave of you to assume I will get scared during a horror movie. How about we go for just an hour, then you and I can come back here and watch whatever movie you want?” 

At that, his ears perked, he could go for an hour. That gives him all the more time alone with his love. “Hocus Pocus? That’s my favorite.” 

“Yes baby, we can watch Hocus Pocus, do this for me, and I’m all yours for the rest of the night.” A grin was stretched across his face as she leaned up and gave a peck to his lips. Adoration shining brightly in her eyes as she looked up at him. “You are so lucky I love you, Y/n.” 

“I love you, Zayn. More than you will ever know.” 

December 31st, 2010:

“Hola, my favorite people! Happy New Years Eve, I hope you guys are having a good day. My family is having a little party to bring in the new year, even though you won’t be watching this until later when I decide to post it, I hope you guys have an amazing holiday. Be safe now. Bye!”

Christmas and New Year’s was hard for Y/n. She had major separation anxiety for everyone she grows close to, so not being able to see the people she loves for a whole two weeks was taking a toll on her. Not to mention, Zayn went back to Bradford for the holidays, so he wasn’t there to keep her calm. All she had was the emails and messages he would send her.  

However, that night was different. She didn’t know what it was, but the air felt more intoxicating. There was something she was missing and the young girl couldn’t put her finger on it. 

Emery got ahold of Y/n’s camera without her noticing, pressing the ‘record’ button and smiling.

“Hi, as many of you may know, my name is Emery White. Before questions start racing through your head about where Y/n is, she is currently in the kitchen talking to one of her neighbors, and she knows nothing about this so, shhh!” Emery held her index finger up to her mouth, even though she is talking to a camera. 

“So, the time is now 11:58, meaning it is almost New Year’s and I got a message from a good friend of mine to get her camera and start recording. Oh wait, she’s coming over! Act normal!” 

“Emmy? Why do you have my camera, wait no, when did you get my camera?” Emery turned her neck to look at Y/n, and smiled while looking at her friends confused face. “It’s almost midnight, I figured we could record the big moment for your journal thing.” 

Y/n looked at her watch and sure enough, it was 12:59, and the people around her were counting down. By the time Y/n looked back at her friend, Emery had switched her position to behind the camera, her smile now stretching to her eyes. She gave a confused smile towards the camera before shaking her head. 

10..

9..

8..

A tap was felt on Y/n’s shoulder making her turn around, not believing her eyes, she had to do a double take. There he was in all of his glory. Zayn stood in front of her with a bouquet of random flowers, her eyes widening in complete shock. 

3..

2..

1!

Before she could fully process his presence, Zayn had planted his lips against hers in what he would call, one of their best kisses. His arms went around her waist while hers were around his neck, keeping him as close as humanly possible. She was the first to pull away from the kiss, tears forming at the bottom of her eyes but never fell. Zayn pulled her back, this time her face went into his neck as he whispered out a small, “Happy New Years, baby.” 

May 22nd, 2011: 

Senior prom, a day Y/n has waited her entire life for. Getting all dolled up for one night of perfection sounded glorious. Unlike most people, her dress doesn’t reach the floor but goes a little ways past her knees. It was a light shade of green, she wasn’t usually one for the cliche pink and blue, and her stomach was laced over showing her belly button peircing. She felt on top of the world, the most gorgeous she has ever felt in her entire life. 

Zayn was in a nude tuxedo, a lightish green tie tucked into the blazer. “It’s prom day, baby, how do you feel?” The now well-known camera placed in front of his face, though he paid no attention to it, but really the girl behind it. “Like I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world. How did I get so lucky, hm?” 

The blush was evident on her face, he could see it perfectly now even with the camera facing him and not herself. He could still see the light in her eyes. Looking back on it, he couldn’t imagine living his life without her, how could he let her go? 

It wasn’t like they got in a fight or anything, Zayn and Y/n were going to different colleges and he didn’t want to do the whole long distance thing. He felt she deserved better than that. So even though the breakup was absolutely not a mutual agreement, Y/n somewhat understood and let him walk away. 

“You’re such the charmer, Zayn. Always got me blushing for no good reason.” 

“I would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t.” 

Now turning the camera to face both of them, Zayn placed a kiss on her lips before turning off the camera and letting their night go on as best as it could, for it would be one of the last good memories they have. Except at the time, neither of them knew the last time would actually be the last time. 

June 4th, 2011: 

“Hey everyone, I just want to start off by saying congratulations, we made it. Graduating today was the most amazing feelings, and I’m sure you all can agree with me. The past four years have really taught me a lot, I know I sound like the Mallory Barnes, our valedictorian that gave the speech today, but I’m serious, you all have been amazing. Teachers included.” 

Y/n wasn’t in her usual attire. She was in a comfortable baggy hoodie, and that’s all you could see as her camera was propped on the desk in the corner of the room. Her hair was in a messy bun, no makeup, and her glasses were sat perfectly on her nose. What no one could notice was the slight puffiness to her eyes, the way they were red and tired. But Zayn noticed, however. When Y/n first uploaded this to her instagram, Zayn couldn’t bare to watch it, so seeing it now definitely brought back a feeling he tried too hard to push away. 

“In the past four years I have learned about friendships, I learned about love, and I learned about heartbreak. I have got to say, high school brought me some really great friendships that I will cherish forever. I am finding it very difficult to say goodbye, but we are bound to go off and do bigger and better things. The future awaits for us.” 

“I just want to thank you guys for the amazing memories, and I hope you guys make your dreams come true.” Y/n sighed into the camera, she was really bad at saying goodbye, though you would think it would be easier considering no one likes high school. However, Y/n loved every single second of it, maybe not the learning but the memories made.

“Now, I am going to get really sappy for a minute and say a massive thank you to the man who has loved me for the past four years. Zayn, I know we haven’t talked in a few weeks, and you’re probably not even watching this, but just know that I am so proud of you.  I don’t know how I could not be. I really hope you make something wonderful of yourself. You were by far my favorite part of this journey. Thank you for sticking with me and for loving me. And even though we aren’t together anymore, I love you.”

“We almost had it all, didn’t we?” 

AN: Yeah, I don't think I like this babahahah. Love the concept but someone out there could definitely write it better. 

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Internet Friends

For Maribat March day 4 theme internet friends

Master List

It was peaceful for once in the manor. Dick, Tim, Damian, Steph, Cass, and Babs were all in the living room doing their own thing. However peace cannot last forever and the silent atmosphere was interrupted by one Timothy Drake-Wayne. 

“Guys come check this out!” He exclaimed, his phone facing the others in the room. They all gathered around the phone, some more annoyed than others. On screen was a video and Tim hit play. 

It showed a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin motioning for someone off screen to come over. There was music going on in the background and the girl was obviously getting impatient. The figure came on screen and they were all shocked to see it was Jason. Then at the top of the screen the words ‘Doing this trend with my overprotective best friend’ appeared and now they were very confused. Jason had never mentioned this girl before.

The music stopped and the girl repeated the lyrics “Look at my ass, look at my thighs” as she turned around. But before she could turn around Jason picked her up and carried her off screen before the video ended. 

“What was that?” Dick asked after a few seconds of silence. 

“It’s a trend on tik tok that girls usually do with their boyfriends, but in this case Jason and this girl are just best friends.” Steph answered. 

“How does Jason even know this girl?” Dick pointed out, asking the question that was on all of their minds. Unfortunately, no one, not even Tim, knew the answer. 

Cass then spoke up, “Watch more.” She grabbed Tim’s phone and played another video, however this time it was Jason holding the camera. He came over to the strange girl who looked to be baking something. She looked up at him weirdly, asking something that couldn’t be heard because of the audio playing, luckily they could read lips. 

‘What are you doing?’ She asked

Jason responded with ‘Just listen.’ 

She turned her attention to the camera as the lyrics “That’s my best friend, that’s my best friend” played. Jason was moving to the beat and that seemed to convince the girl to also move to the beat. The song continued with more lyrics playing “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my best friend”. Then suddenly the lyrics “I just fuck her her from time to time” played and the girl whipped out her spoon and started whacking him on the head with it. She was screaming ‘LIES’ just before the video cut out. 

This led to them going on a spree of watching their tik toks. Apparently this was their shared account and both of them had separate accounts they planned to look at later. An hour had passed of them just watching their tik toks before they stumbled upon an intriguing one. The caption was ‘You guys asked for it, so I’ll explain. This is going to be my side of the story.’

It showed Margot, as they had found out her name was, sitting on her bed recording herself painting her nails a blood red as she talked. 

“Ok so you guys have been asking for this for a while so here it is. How I met Jason part one. And Jason will also be doing his side of the story, just so you’re aware, watch that after this. But this also takes place after the whole ‘Hawkmoth and Lila Incident’ so if you haven’t watched that storytime on my personal account, you should probably go do that.” 

One look at each other and they knew they were gonna look at the story afterwards. It was getting too good to leave now.

“So a long time ago I had a venting account on Instagram. Now I had many venting accounts, all with different usernames, including Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, all that good stuff but Instagram is where I met Jason. I posted something about how death could never stop me because I had died by the hands of an akuma before but ladybug’s cure brought me back to life. But then later on in the post I said something about how if this one boy, you all know who he is, couldn’t take a hint then I would rather let death take me than bother living in this mortal realm. Jason ended up seeing the post since we were following each other at the time and DMed me. Now he said and I quote ‘Yo, my username at the time, if you need me to come and beat this guys ass I would be more than happy too. I would gladly let death claim me as well without your shit posts to relate to.’” 

She had tried to make her voice sound deeper and had stopped painting her nails so she could do air quotes. “Looking back on it now, that is such a Jason thing to say, but at the time I was pretty confused and mildly concerned. And time’s up, part two will be posted right now.” 

“Wait, what the heck is an akuma and ladybug’s cure and why did she die from it!?!?!” Dick shouted once the video ended. 

“Dick you don’t know what she’s talking about?” Babs asked in disbelief. 

“Tt, Grayson, and I thought you were one of the smart ones in this family.” Damian scoffed. 

“Does everyone here, but me, know what she's talking about?” Dick questioned, getting yes and nods from everyone in the room.

“Okay Dick,” Tim began, “This is gonna be pretty unbelievable and complicated so I’ll try to explain it as best I can in a short amount of time so we can finish her side of the story before dinner. So while I’m explaining don’t interrupt me.” 

He waited for Dick to nod his head before continuing. “There are jewelry called miraculous that house mini gods that grant powers to whoever has the jewelry. Each miraculous houses a different god thus a different power. Miraculous themselves, including the gods bound to them, are neutral so they can be used for good or evil depending on who wields them. 

Hawkmoth and Mayura used the butterfly and peacock miraculouses for evil purposes and were basically emotional terrorists to the people of Paris. Hawkmoth was able to send out a butterfly with magic to a person feeling negative emotions and manipulate them to do his bidding. These butterflies and villains created by the butterflies were called akumas. If you were or became an akuma you were akumatized. Mayura was able to send out a feather with magic that also used negative emotions to create a monster that aided the akuma. The feathers were called amuks and the monsters were called sentimonsters. 

That was when the heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir also came along and fought Hawkmoth. Ladybug had the ladybug miraculous which granted her the power of lucky charm and miraculous ladybug. Lucky charm gave her an item needed to defeat the akuma and miraculous ladybug reversed all the damage a fight caused. She also had the task of purifying the akuma, turning it back into a butterfly. Chat Noir had the black cat miraculous which granted the power of cataclysm, which made it so he could destroy anything he touched. The 2 worked as a team for around a year before they brought in other temporary heroes who are not that important. Eventually all their temp heroes’ identities were outed and they could no longer use them so they were back to square one. 

However many people noticed that Chat Noir was not taking his job as seriously, he began sitting out battles, flirting with ladybug while there was an akuma, and even getting civilians killed, relying too heavily on ladybug’s cure. We’re not exactly sure what happened, we assumed she snapped because one akuma attack Chat Noir was not there. Instead, there was a whole new team of miraculous wielders including Murder Hornet wielder of the bee miraculous who had the power venom which let her temporarily paralize her opponent, Red Illusion wielder of the fox miraculous who had the power mirage which let him create illusions, Peridot Protector wielder of the turtle miraculous who had the power shelter which allowed him to create indestructible shields, Medusa wielder of the snake miraculous who had the power second chance which allowed her to reset the time line as many times as needed to win the battle, Mustang wielder of the horse miraculous who had the power voyage which let him create portals, and a new black cat holder, Midnight. 

The team took 6 months to defeat Hawkmoth and Mayura, who turned out to be Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancour. The Justice League tried to recruit them but they all wanted to live normal lives. Ladybug still checks in every 3-6 months to reassure everyone she still has all the miraculous. I don’t blame them, especially Ladybug, for wanting a normal life. This whole thing started when they were around 13 and ended when they were around 17.”

Tim then clicked on part two of her story, not even waiting for Dick to recover from the huge information dump. 

It was the exact same place she was at in part one, and she was still painting her nails the same shade of blood red. “Okay guys part two of how Jason and I met. If you didn’t watch part one go watch then return to this one. So picking up where we left off I Dmed him back and we ended up having a very long conversation about murder, people not understanding the word no, and spineless cowards. This went on for quite a while of us just messaging each other and eventually we gave each other our emails and then phone numbers. I gave him my phone number just before I moved out of Paris. After like 6 months of texting we planned to meet up at some park in New York that was near the apartment I lived at at the time. Now in hindsight that was a very dumb move on my part so to all the kids watching don’t go meeting up with strangers you meet on the internet. Do as I say not as I did. I almost regretted my decision to meet up with him because he is intimidating as hell! He’s like over 6 foot tall, with muscles the size of my head! I honestly thought that I had put myself in a very bad situation but thankfully he was just as nice in real life like he was over text. We ended up hanging out a lot more and long story short we’re best friends!” 

It was at this point that she looked directly into the camera with a glare that could rival Batman’s, stating, “Literally just best friends to all the people who think shipping us is okay!” And just like that, it was gone, “Anyways see you guys next video, bye!” 

And with that the video ended and the Wayne children, minus Jason obviously, were left wondering how they missed the fact Jason had a female best friend. One where they declared their friendship on the internet nonetheless!

“Well that was certainly something.” Steph commented. 

“Yeah, who knew Jason could have a non hero friend that we didn’t know about.” Tim joked. 

“So are we gonna watch Jason’s part?” Dick asked. 

“I don’t think we have time for that, but we can watch it after dinner.” Tim suggested, “Alfred is probably on his way to get us right now.”

“Tt, what do we do now?” Damian questioned. 

It was then that Cass stole Tim’s phone and started to play a new tik tok. And it showed Margot trying to teach Jason how to do the WAP dance. They were never letting him hear the end of this.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am literally so sorry for that huge information dump with the miraculous. I did not expect to get that carried away while writing and by the time I realized it, it was too late and I had to post. Honestly because of how much I wrote I will probably use the miraculous holders names in a future fic, cause I’m lazy. :P Also if you wanna guess their identities feel free to! Anyways tomorrows prompt fic thing will be like a prequel for this one, it’s basically why Marinette now goes by Margot and why she lived/lives in New York. The prompt “Betrayal" will be connected to this as well. :)  Also sorry this was posted so late, I had things to do, that I still need to do...I hate procrastination

@maribatmarch-2k21

[sofreddie]

High School Reunion 2

Summary: Someone at the reunion has a big mouth.

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,087

A/N: Inspiration struck out of nowhere and this piece was born. I have a very rough outline for a small series, maybe about 6 parts? We'll see. It's gonna happen randomly, no planned schedule for this one.

PART 1

Y/N bit her lip in excitement and saw a message from Lana. She immediately opened Skype to call her best friend…and thank her.

"Hey you! How was the reunion?" Lana smiled as her face appeared on screen.

"Oh my fucking God I can't believe you!" Y/N screamed, though it was mostly excitement as she blushed profusely.

"So…I take it you had a good night then?" Lana grinned cheekily.

"How could you not tell me you met Jensen Freaking Ackles?! I thought we were friends?" Y/N pouted dramatically as she plopped back on her couch, phone still in hand.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep it from you?" Lana screeched in response, "You remember my last night at the convention, I went to that place for dinner that had the amazing burger?"

"Yeah, I remember. You said you loved the place, that it was a perfect ending to the trip," Y/N remembered, "Now I get why."

"Ok, yeah, so I'm sat at the bar with my burger and a beer and he comes in and sits with a chair between us. I instantly recognized him, but was trying to keep my cool, you know. But he remember me! From the photo op! So we just got to talking and you had just split with Chase and I was so worried about you-"

"Oh Lana, you didn't," Y/N groaned.

"I was just venting about how much I hated that douchebag and what he did to you and what you were going through and how I was so worried about the reunion but thought it could be a good thing for you after Chase-" she rambled on, her words quickly tumbling forth as she pleaded her case to her best friend.

"You're not mad, right?" Lana asked timidly.

"How can I be?" Y/N shouted, "He walked in there all suave and shut down my high school bullies - who were trying to start some shit let me tell you-"

"No!" Lana gasped, "Amanda?"

"And the others," Y/N sighed, "And they were trying to cut in on me and I was gonna run, I'm not gonna lie," Y/N chuckled lightly, "But then he was just there. And she introduced himself as my boyfriend….Oh my god, Lana! What if that gets out?" Y/N sat bolt upright on her couch in a panic.

"Whoa, Y/N, calm down," Lana insisted, "More important than that…he introduced himself as your boyfriend?!"

"Lana!"

"I'm just sayin'-"

Y/N sighed dreamily, "Then we danced. Then he took me for a drive and we parked up at the spot and ate burgers while chatting and watching stars," she sighed again, as if it were a scene from a romantic film she had just watched.

"That sounds like a date," Lana helpfully noted.

"I thought that too!" Y/N squealed, "But that's just the fangirl right? I mean, there's no way."

"How many times I gotta tell you you're a catch, woman?" Lana laughed, "I'm not surprised at all. In fact, I'm taking credit. You're welcome," Y/N groaned once more and Lana chuckled.

"Did I mention we exchanged numbers?" Y/N added with a grin.

"And now I hate you," Lana huffed.

"Yeah, love you too you meddler."

Y/N sighed happily to herself once more as they ended the call. She tossed her phone on the coffee table as she relaxed back into the couch. Her eyes fluttered closed as she replayed the evenings events in her mind.

She had to be dreaming. There was no way this was real, right?

Too tired and content to carry herself off to the bedroom, Y/N laid down on the couch, settling into the plush cushions and dragging the throw from the back of the couch to cover herself, falling asleep quickly and dreaming of shimmering green eyes.

Jensen groaned as he slowly came awake to the incessant ringing and chimes of his phone. He opened his eyes, grabbing for the phone and peeking at the time.

6am.

He and Y/N were out past midnight. After he made it back to the hotel, he had spent the better part of an hour sipping on a beer as he thought over the night he had with her.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to talk to Lana in the bar that night. He could tell she was a nervous fan, and he remembered her from the photo op, just as nervous and shy. But after a beer or two with her dinner, she relaxed and their conversation flowed. It was nice, to be chatting away with someone new, different.

When she went on about her best friend Y/N, Jensen felt something. Apparently the way if affected her friend was severe enough to have Lana in real turmoil over it. Jensen knew what that was like. He'd worried over Jared a time or two just the same.

When Lana gave him a picture, however, his heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful, with a charming smile. But he could see her eyes were sad and guarded.

When he realized the reunion was a few hours drive and a few days ahead of his schedule to be at another convention, he decided to make the stop to see Y/N at the reunion. At the very least he could chalk it up to a memorable fan moment.

Jensen rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he reluctantly sat against the headboard, checking to see why his phone was blowing up.

It took only a quick glance through the various calls and text and emails from various persons all talking about the same thing. Jensen opened the text thread from Jared, scrolling through the messages and clicking on a picture that was include.

It was him and Y/N dancing together at the reunion the night before. She looked as amazing as he remembered. Her smile was bright and genuine, but so was his. Apparently word had spread from the reunion that he and Y/N were together. That's when he remembered introducing himself to those girls as Y/N's boyfriend.

He wasn't so bothered by the turn of events, which surprised him. He had decided the night before that he wanted to ask her out on a date. Their chemistry was too intense to not pursue.

What bothered him was how she'd react. They'd literally just met and had a friendly, albeit great, evening and now she was possibly going to be bombarded with paparazzi and everyone in her business.

So much for that date.

He knew it was early, but he wanted Y/N to hear from him first. He opened the new message thread between them, seeing her text from the night before and smiling once more, before typing out his message.

Hey, Y/N. Hope you slept well. Was hoping to talk to you about something.

He sent the message, noting the time, and figured he'd give it some time. He didn't know her schedule, or anything about her really. With a groan, Jensen hit the green button to return one of Jared's missed calls.

"Dude!" Jared exclaimed as he answered after one ring, "I've been trying to get ahold of you for two hours!"

"Yes, Mom, I'm aware," Jensen said with a yawn.

"Did you see the picture?"

"Yeah."

"And?" Jared pressed for more, "Why aren't you freaking out about this?" Jared scoffed. Since his last major relationship ended, Jensen hadn't been with anyone really. An occasional date here and there for an event. But he hadn't seemed interested in anyone at all, and was quick to shut down any insuinuations to the contrary.

"I guess I should of seen it coming," Jensen shrugged, "I did introduce myself as her boyfriend after all."

"You what?" Jared was shocked, trying to wrap his head around it, "Why would you do that? Is there something you aren't telling me? Have you been dating her for a while? Who is she anyway?"

Jared fired off the questions in rapid succession like an excited puppy.

"I gotta talk to her first," Jensen said, "I'll see you at the convention in a couple days. You can interrogate me then."

"I want all the details."

"Don't you always?"

Jensen ended the call, taking a deep breath. He felt so stupid for what he did. He wasn't sure why he did that other than to shut those girls down. He really hated bullies.

He decided to get dressed and grab a couple of coffees on his way to Y/N's house. A quick look at his social media had told him that picture was blowing up. She was bound to find out sooner rather than later. He had to tell her first.

Y/N slowly roused from her deep sleep on the comfy couch, hearing an incessant rapping coming from her front door. She stretched, reaching for her phone on the coffee table and finding it dead.

She rolled her eyes as she threw off the throw, climbing from the couch and shuffling to the door and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She flung open the door, the morning's cresting light just bright enough to assault her eyes. It took her a second to focus, but then she saw Jensen, a small smile on his face and two tall coffees in hand.

"Jensen?" she asked, so very confused and wondering if she was still asleep.

"Hey, uh, I know it's early. But I really needed to see you this morning."

The smile he gave was sweet, but she could tell something was up. Was he worried that maybe she'd go blabbing about their night together? She'd never do that. But she guessed he didn't know that.

"Sure, come in," she smiled warmly, stepping aside and gesturing him into her home. She accepted the coffee as Jensen passed it to her on his way in. She shut the door behind him, taking a whiff of her drink before taking a long gulp, closing her eyes and sighing at the flavor.

"So, what's up?" she asked, shuffling on her feet, "Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

"You're welcome," he smiled, now genuine and inviting and Y/N's heart stuttered slightly at the sight, "I was hoping to talk to you, about last night."

She shook her head, "I won't talk about it with anyone, I promise. Well, other then Lana. I had to call her last night. Yell at her a little," she blushed.

He laughed, nodding his head, "No, I get it. But I wasn't worried about that or anything," he was quick to correct, "Actually, someone else already did."

"Did what?"

"Someone got a picture of us on the dance floor last night and might have said I mentioned I was your boyfriend," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh," she responded, clearly shocked and not sure what to say.

"I just wanted you to hear it from me first, you know? Before seeing it online or whatever."

"Online-" she echoed, her eyes going wide, "So, you can just post a Tweet or something that it's a mistake."

"Okay, well, to be fair, I did introduce myself as your boyfriend to those other women last night."

"Yeah…why'd you do that again?" Y/N smirked despite herself.

He shrugged, "Seemed like the right thing to do. Shut 'em up didn't it?" he grinned, "Besides," he chanced, stepping closer to her," Feels like we had a date last night."

She blushed hard, ducking her head before meeting his eyes once again, "Yeah, it did."

"And I was hoping you'd like to do it again."

"Really?" she asked. She couldn't help the dreamy look in her eye. She still couldn't believe this was happening.

"Yeah. So if you say yes, then we'd be dating, which is practically boyfriend and girlfriend," he explained casually, "So I think we should just keep doing what we're doing and let it ride. What do you think?"

"I think you might be a little bit crazy," she nervously laughed, "Let's start with a second date," she grinned, seeing him brighten up, "And go from there."

"And the press?" Jensen chanced.

"Let them think what they wanna think," she shrugged.

"You're freakin' perfect," he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, even though she still had bedhead. He smiled at the cuteness of it.

"I should go freshen up!" she realized, seeing him look over her disheveled state, "Uh…be right back." she rushed off down the hall and Jensen laughed to himself.

He had a good feeling about this.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@fangirlxwritesx67

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

JENSEN TAGS:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

@slamminmine

[hes-writer]

Birthday

Summary: harry forgets y/n's birthday

Warnings: angst and fluff if you squint

Word Count: 2871 words

A/N: I’m tired. My head hurts (sucky ending ahead)

___

How silly was it to stare at a phone in anticipation for hours, waiting for it to buzz and light up with a simple banner stating ‘happy birthday!’ from your closest friends? It was a sad reality for Y/N. She was never very outspoken, often opting to keep to herself and speak only when she was comfortable. Friends were a touchy topic because she had lost so many in the past that she didn’t bother making new ones for the sake of not going through another fallen friendship.

What was the point of going through the cycle over and over again if Y/N knew the dreaded ending? She was better off saving herself from heartbreak and stick with the true friends she had.

For the past years, Y/N’s closest friends brought her joy and animated presents to celebrate her birthday. She appreciated them very much, declaring that they only had to give her greetings and she would be happy. They cared so much until they didn’t. Was it because of quarantine that they failed to realize what day it was? Were they busy with work? Were they finishing up a university project worth half of their marks? Did they forget? Y/N wondered what changed.

Having stability within herself was something that she always struggled with. As much as she tried to convince herself that she is important and that she’s worth it—Y/N knew that it was only a matter of time before all those reassurances blew up in her face.

Sometimes she feels as though she cared too much, expected too much and got nothing in return. It wasn’t a competition; really, it wasn’t. Y/N didn’t want to sound entitled but the fact that she remembered the important days and the special occasions, bringing gifts and cheery greetings only to have nothing but empty silence when the day was about her hurt more than a metal scooter to her ankle bone. 

And for the sake of it, Y/N forced herself to understand that her friends didn’t remember. They were still her friends even if she hasn't spoken to them in a while. Their life didn’t revolve around her even if it felt like she dedicated too much of hers caring for them and making sure that they felt good about themselves. Y/N hated to see them sad, doubting themselves to the point where she had to step in—too irritated to bite her tongue because they didn’t deserve to be put down that way whether it was by their own thoughts or somebody else’s.

It was a completely different story with Harry. She and Harry have been together for three years and counting, sharing memories between the two; affection, intimacy and caressing touches imprinted on one another’s skin. He was the most amazing person Y/N had ever met; always pleasing others but knowing when to draw the line. He was both logical and affectionate, never letting his heart rule too heavy on his decisions but always using his head to think it through.

Recently, Y/N felt as if their relationship was taking a low. She wasn’t too concerned because it had happened before and a simple, meaningful talk was often what she and Harry needed to get back on the right track for a long-lasting relationship. The days were passing by continuously, sometimes even confusing her until she found something to look forward to. Her birthday.

—-

The rays battled through the blinds, blinding her with faint yellow sunshine yet Y/N could see the clouds covering the sky, indicating that it was cloudy and frankly, a little bit cold today.

She yawned, pressing her fists against her eye to knuckle on them, rubbing the sleep out before stretching them outwards. She expected to hit a body laying beside her, Harry, but she was met with open-air and a sudden chill enveloping her body despite the thick comforter laying on top of her.

Y/N pressed her palms on the mattress. The creases imprinting indents on her skin as she pushed herself up slightly in alarm. Sure enough, Harry’s side of the bed was empty, wrinkled with his movements from sleep but he was nowhere to be found. His usual humming habits didn’t echo from the bathroom, nor did his constant yelps of clothes falling off the rack reverberate from the walk-in closet. She concluded that maybe he was in the kitchen preparing a special breakfast in bed—waffles and freshly cut fruit were always her favourites.

Y/N smiled at the thought, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, slipping her feet in her fuzzy slippers before dragging her legs to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Aside from a few work emails needing to be responded to, her day was essentially empty, hoping that her time would soon be filled with long-lasting memories.

Ten minutes later and a questionable frown on her face, Y/N entered the kitchen with a beating heart. The smell of breakfast food didn’t linger in the air as she had expected. In fact, there was nobody there. No one in the living room, nowhere. There was no note taped to the fridge, no gifts sitting on the counter, no cake cooling on the stove rack.

Y/N felt the corner of her mouth dip in disappointment, returning to the bedroom to switch her phone on.

A hole in her chest formed at the sight of an empty lock screen—no messages or calls needing to be tended to because no one had remembered her birthday. She tried not to think too much about it, maybe they were busy or forced by Harry to stay quiet because he had planned a surprise party later in the evening. Y/N sighed, tapping her thumbs to text him ‘where are you 🥺’.

The damage ripped her further apart at a notification showing pictures of ‘Today, 1 Year ago’. She contemplated whether to view them or not, aware that she was torturing herself for not getting the same amount of sentiment as the previous years.

‘meeting. I’ll call you x’ - Harry

Y/N swiped the message up, opting not to reply and wallowing in self-pity as she tried not to let her thoughts get the better of her. Today was supposed to be a happy day so why was she feeling so sad?

Wandering around Harry’s large house, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a cold blanket of loneliness draping over her shoulder. She wished that Harry was here to ease the ache quelling in her heart. All she wanted was to share sweet kisses with his soft lips, to feel his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Hearing his voice whispering dirty thoughts and compliments in her ear while she buried her face on the nape of his neck where his scent was the strongest. Maybe they would bake a cake in the kitchen. Flour dusting the air as Harry let his fingers wiggle to get it off of him. The finished product didn’t always look good but it tended to taste delicious. At least it was edible.

The daydreams in her head moved with the branches swaying outside the window, the fluffy white clouds moving westward as Y/N reeled in memories of her past birthday like a camera roll, creaking with each spin. The flickering blinking with forgotten remnants of happy flashbacks.

It was nearing four in the afternoon when Y/N decided to stop antsily waiting for the device to buzz in hopes of a message from Harry or anybody, really. The slight grief she felt washed over her mind, echoing that she wasn’t important enough to be remembered.

She didn’t want to feel like that anymore.

Y/N didn’t know what bothered her the most. Is it fair for her to expect Harry to remember her birthday? Was it a given? If he came home right now with a present on his left hand, balloons and flowers on his right with a sheepish smile inching up the lower half of his face—would Y/N still feel angry? Sad? Disappointed? All she wanted was him to remember on his own. Maybe then she’ll feel as though she was worth his time. It wasn’t even about the gifts or a celebration—just a simple acknowledgment that meant he cared for her.

She kept asking herself if she should feel sad. If she had the right to feel disappointed. It wasn’t like they made any plans. It wasn’t like he promised to do anything special with her. It felt more and more like a normal day instead of her birthday and Y/N’s heart twinged with realization.

If Harry ‘made it up to her’, was it overpowering guilt that would make him do it? Or because he genuinely forgot? Maybe both? Nonetheless, the hours passed by with barely anything productive being accomplished, having taken the day off for nothing. The device beside her vibrated once, a message from her aunt saying ‘happy birthday’ left a smile on her face. It wasn’t every day that Y/N received a text from her extended family-- she concluded that it was because her birthday was on the same day as her grandfather’s.

____

The sun sunk down beyond the horizon, darkness littering the streets that the light disappeared due to nighttime slowly cycling through the rest of the day. Y/N spent her time as she would any other day, except this time she baked a cake. A pity cake for her gloomy day. She was like a burnt cigarette crumpled on the ashtray, the last traces of orange hue fire spotting into black traces.

Y/N felt foolish wearing a party hat with a string that was way too short stretched around her head. The tightness tramping her that would probably cause slight indentations on her skin. It was nearing midnight when she decided to sing herself a happy birthday and made a wish.

The door unlocked, followed by keys rattling on a hardwood. The flame on her wax candle dancing with the gasp she released as Harry rounded the corner to the kitchen.

“Y/N, you in here?” He froze in place as his eyes caught up with the rest of his body. Harry’s fingers tightened around his phone before slipping it in his back pocket. His mouth parted open, throat closing up as he tried to swallow the lump that formed. The party hat sitting on her head almost took away from the severity of the situation.

He messed up. Really bad.

“Hey, Har,” Y/N greeted, crimping her lips to bare a small ghast to the candle. The flame disappeared in the blink of an eye. Harry’s heart hammered harder in his sternum, Y/N’s plunged to her churning stomach. “Where have you been?”

The tone of her voice was mundane. Harry was trying his best to decipher how she was feeling so that he can act accordingly and that was exactly why Y/N purposefully voided it of any susceptible sentiment.

“Y/N, I-I’m sorry,” He padded his feet closer to her, the kitchen island putting distance between them. She sat on the barstool, removing the hat from her head. She fixed her hair as Harry spoke. “I’m really sorry,”

Green eyes bore through her with a sincere expression, shooting daggers in her heart for staying quiet while Harry apologized profusely. The chocolate frosted cake drooped on the edges--she had a habit of smothering the layers with frosting before it fully cooled down-- just like the corners of her mouth.

“What are you sorry for?”

Harry blinked at her, resting his hands on the edge of the counter. “I forgot your birthday,”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, you did.”

“Happy birthday, baby” His voice was tender, like a bowl of sweet, milk chocolate. Decadent and rich as it released the words she had been waiting to hear all day long. And frankly, it would’ve been enough to put a smile to her face, but the lack of content for the day embedded her in a mindset that not even Harry’s simple words could dig her out of. The amount of self-reflection she did today was a topic that she had tried to avoid for so long because it was too destructive--she never handled these thoughts well.

Y/N peered at the digital clock on the stove just as it switched to ‘00:01’. Harry followed her gaze, hitching a breath in his throat. She stared at him deeply, "Where were you?”

“Studio. I had a flow, couldn’t stop and I--,” He rambled on, nervously scratching the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the tiny curls. A part of Y/N couldn’t help but feel selfish for making this all about her (even if it was about her). Harry had other commitments besides her. He had a music career that depended on him writing songs. She knew how much it meant to him when a flow was just too good--lyrics spewing out of his mouth, melodies humming from the base of his throat. Harry wrote some of his best work in the middle of the night after dreaming about something that absolutely puzzled her to no end. Remorse spotted in her chest.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said slowly. “You were working hard. I get it,” Her hands reached out for his waist, his Gucci hoodie soft to the touch.

Harry hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, wondering if he should uncover the whole truth. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chin jutting on the crown of her head. A sudden breeze slipped up his back when she slid her warm palms under the fabric. “No, I wasn’t,”

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat, leaning back far enough that he could maintain eye contact with her, “I wasn’t working hard. I was sleeping. I did write some tunes bu’ then I got knocked out for hours and didn’t wake up until eleven,”

“Oh,” Y/N let her hands dangle beside her, a rush of disappointment flooding her every being. She carefully sewed up her next response, “S’okay, you were tired,” And she was too. All she wanted was to cuddle up in their bed and he can make it up to her another day.

“It’s not okay!” Harry retorted. “I forgot about your birthday, left you all alone. I didn’t even text you,” He pounded his fist on the counter, way too close to the chocolate cake that had Y/N sneakily pulling the tray away from him but he caught her, “Didn’t get you a cake. Didn’t buy ya’ a present,”

“Harr--,” She tried to intervene in his monologue. Disappointment still weighed heavily in her chest. However, the sight of Harry fuming at his ability to remember reminded her that she didn’t enjoy seeing him blaming himself. As much as she wished to have this day play out differently, everything was already said and done.

“Stop that, Y/N! I was sleeping while you were blowing a candle out on your own. I was s’pposed to be there with you,”

Salty tears flooded her waterline, overwhelming emotions swamping her and saturating her mind, “No, no, no. Please don’t cry,” He rushed out, willing his legs to stand between hers from the distance he created. His thumb stuck out to pad a tear to her temple, “I’ll make it up to you. I swear it,”

Earlier, she contemplated if he would be acting out of guilt. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes and hearing the intensity of his voice asserting that he had messed up so badly that he reprimanded himself; there was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that Harry would do everything he can to make her feel better.

“Do you care about me?”

“‘Course, I do,” He cringed internally at his words, visibly shuddering as his actions surely emphasized the opposite. “Dunno how I forgot. It must’ve slipped my mind,” The groove in between his brows thickened, his cheek absentmindedly leaning towards her palm cupping his cheek. “I care about you a lot, Y/N.” He breathed through his nose, letting the scent of her fill his lungs.

“Do you love me?’

His lids snapped open, jaw tensing against her skin, “Loads. I love you so much,” He turned his head to kiss her palm, holding her wrist to press kisses on her fingers, her wrist, her forearm.

“I’m really sorry,” He rested his forehead against hers. Y/N tangled their fingers together as she held him close.

“You’re sorry?” She asked, the crest of her lips brushing over his plump ones. Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Very,”

Y/N let her eyes fall shut, peering closer to his cloudy lips and attaching his mouth to his. Her hands travelled to his broad shoulders, straightening her back to reach his height. Harry bent down in retaliation.  They pulled away with a smacking sound, lips glistening from their intense kiss. “S’that mean I’m forgiven?” He mumbled, pressing a kiss on her head.

She scoffed, turning her attention on the cake, “Have you made it up to me yet?”

___

sucky ending, i know.

___

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[writinggarbage007]

The Captain's Assistant

Chapter 1

Steve Rogers x dark! reader, Avengers x dark! Reader

Summary: After 3 years as Cap's assistant and being treated like nothing, you are captured by Hydra and everything changes.

Warnings: swearing, dark themes, abduction, torture, cannon level violence. 18+. If you are not comfortable with these themes don't read.

Will update warnings on each chapter.

Slight AU

You hated your job.

Taking the job of being Captain America's assistant had been a favor from your father's friend, Nick Fury. You had been downsized and couldn't find a job no matter how many resumes you sent. However, you didn't know at the time it would turn into being assistant to everyone but Tony Stark. Too bad, considering you actually liked him.

Leaving work on a Wednesday night at 9pm was typical. Then there was the call after midnight, Wanda and Natasha were drunk and needed a ride home. Haven't these people ever heard of Uber?

Dropping them off at the compound, leaving them with the nice security guard you got halfway home when a text went off. Pulling your piece of crap car to the side of the road you read;

Mr.MetalArm: I'm out of condoms. Can you bring some to my room? 1:14 am

*Eye roll*

You reply with "15 minutes"

Seriously? Driving back you smile at the gate guard, swipe your badge and share an eye roll with the security guard at the door and head to the supply room. Dropping the condoms off to the Winter Soldier as he stood in his boxers and a voice behind him whines "Hurry up, baby". You almost want to tell her he won't even remember her name the next day but you turn and leave. Not even a thank you from Weiner Soldier.

It's after 2 when you finally get home and all you want to do is sleep. Dropping off you wonder how you got here. Taking care of a whole team of Superheroes. Any time you tried to say no to helping the team your boss, Captain Asshole would say "I consider it a favor to me when you help them."

Of course those favors never got returned.

Thursday 5:06 am

Your text alert goes off and you groan. It's only been less than 3 hours since you got home and already they are at it again. Rolling out of bed you ignore the second text alert and make your way to the bathroom to pee. Taking your time, you linger longer than normal washing your hands, splashing cool water on your face.

Finally returning to your bedroom you snatch your phone off your dresser to read your messages.

Captain Asshole: I need you here by 6 to coordinate a mission briefing. 5:06am

Captain Asshole: Please confirm you got my text. 5:08 am

Rolling your eyes you respond with "on my way sir". You've been up for 10 minutes and the rage is already simmering.

Breezing through the front door of the compound, you take a deep breath and walk quickly to the big glass enclosed meeting room. Your arms are loaded down with boxes from the bakery in town. Silently you bless Lucy at the bakery for opening early for you and giving you the treats she had just finished. You owed her a big drink. Of course you ate one while driving to work but no one would count them.

After arranging the pastry and donuts on big trays you set about making coffee in the big urns in the kitchen. As if the smell had summoned him Hawkeye, Clint Barton stumbled into the room giving you an angelic smile when you just sighed and handed him a go cup without him ever speaking a word.

Moving the heavy urns you then grabbed the folder with the mission briefs and headed to the copy room. You didn't read them just assembled the reports into individual folders and laid them out on the table in front of the chairs. When that task was finished it was almost 8. You fussed with the placement of the trays, stacked the go cups, and checked for the creamer each Avenger used and the level of the sugar container.

The elevator dinged and out stepped Nat and Wanda. Both looked no worse for wear after their night out and you sighed. It just wasn't fair.

Next out of the elevator is Captain America, Steve Rogers. Or as you secretly called him Captain Asshole. His little boyfriend Bucky aka the Winter Soldier followed. You called him the Weiner Soldier because he seemed to have a new girl every three weeks like clockwork. How many of them had you had to go down and talk to when he was done with them.

Always sending you with the same excuse. "I just don't want to hurt their feelings."

Right because having your best friend's assistant break up with them for you is so much better. Two of them had to be removed from the property and a third now has a lifetime restraining order against her so she can't be within 100 feet of you. Why? Cause the bitch thought you were keeping her from her true love. The thought of Casey made you glare at Bucky.

No one noticed, as they were all assembling plates with pastry and making coffee.

Cap speaks up and says "Tony should be here shortly so let's get started."

Not a thank you in sight.

As you turn to leave Cap clears his throat and speaks again. "Y/N, I sent you a list of errands I need done."

"On it Cap."you reply with what you are sure he doesn't notice is a condescending smile.

No nap today. Dammit.

As you leave the building and head toward the parking garage Tony Stark steps out having an intense conversation with someone you assume on his phone. He smiles and waves to you and you do the same trudging into the garage.

Of course your car won't start. Heaving a sigh at this crap day you get out, grab your purse and phone and head for the motor pool manager. Explaing the situation wastes more time and he finally hands over the keys to a big SUV.

You check your email to see what the list is and sigh again when you see a second email with a list for the team. The email explains they will be leaving tomorrow and don't have time to pick up their own shit. You just roll your eyes and start the drive to town.

The errands complete you head back to the compound with a taco salad in the passenger seat. It's almost 3pm and you haven't had lunch after running from place to place. Hopefully when you drop off their items, including the shampoo and conditioner you had to drive 40 miles out of the way to get for Natasha, you could eat.

As a truck that looked a lot like a mini tank hit the SUV at a red light you thought to yourself "Today sucks!"

The men in black who drag your battered body from the car and throw you into the mini tank don't say a word. It's been about 30 seconds and you see no one around to help. When they inject you with something that has you floating away you mutter to yourself "Fucking Avengers".

[allthingsfangirl101]

Midnight Adventures–Zac Efron

Zac's been across the sea filming his Down To Earth episodes. We haven't had much communication. A few crappy service Facetimes, slow text messages, and rare emails were all we had. In every email I got from him, he promised to call me when he was on his way home.

Zac and I met while filming Neighbors. He was Teddy and I was someone in the background. The first day we met, he had accidentally bumped into me, almost knocking me down. He caught me and from that day on, things changed.

We started going to lunch together, hanging out on the weekend, and constantly texting. After the movie came out, we kept getting lunch together, hanging out on the weekend, and constantly texting. It was just a friendship, but a lot of people thought it was more.

I got back from my run to see a voicemail from Zac. As I got my things together to shower, I listened to the message.

"Hey, Y/N," Zac's voice came through the message. "You told me to call you and let you know that I made it home safe. Well, I made it home!"

My heart skipped a beat when I heard him laugh. "We aren't home-home. We're at the airport."

Suddenly, there was an awkward silence on the line. I heard Zac sigh and clear his throat.

"I know it's late, but can I come by? I really need. . . want to see you," he quickly corrected. "These past few months, I've been feeling a little weird. I don't know. I'm not. . . It seems like. . . I haven't been that. . . I don't really know how to explain it. All I know is that I really need to see you, Y/N."

When the message ended, I slowly pulled my phone away from my ear. Zac left me that message 40 minutes ago. I tried texting him, but he hasn't responded. I replayed his message, the tone and shakiness of his voice making me nervous. When the third call went to voicemail and the twelfth text went unanswered, I gave up and decided to shower.

                                * * * * *

I hung up my towel before walking out of my bathroom. As soon as I stepped into my bedroom, I heard a soft knock. I looked over, holding in a laugh when I saw Zac on my balcony. I walked over and opened the door, leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm surprised you're here, Troy," I teased. "Don't you have early practice tomorrow before school?"

"Ha-ha," he fake laughed. "No 'Welcome Home, Zac' or 'I've missed you, best friend'? Not even a hug. Straight to the insults."

"How else are we supposed to act?" I joked.

I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around me. I felt him slightly relax into my arms.

"I've missed you," he whispered.

"I've missed you too."

I pulled out of the hug and froze. It was then that I realized what he was wearing. I bit my lip as I playfully hit one of the balls.

"What is on your head?" I asked, trying to hold in my laughter.

"I got it in Coast Rica," he said, playing with the pieces hanging down.

"It's very fashionable," I said, struggling to hold in my laughter. He sent me a glare before breaking.

"Let's go," he said, still laughing.

"Go where?"

"On an adventure," he said like it was obvious.

"I don't know what time it is in Costa Rica, but here it's past midnight."

"And?" He shrugged. I opened my mouth to say no, but he cut me off. "Fortune never smiles on those who say no."

                                   * * * * *

As we drove in Zac's car, I noticed him oddly awake. I looked over and saw him eagerly bouncing his knee.

"I see the jetlag is still in the works," I smirked.

Zac looked over at me and sent me a playful wink. He turned his attention back to the road as we kept going. A few minutes later, I found myself struggling to stay awake.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I sighed, leaning my head on the headrest.

He glanced over at me, his eyes softening when he saw the tired look in my eyes. He reached over and grabbed my hand, instantly intertwining our fingers.

"I know it's late," he said, his voice dropping as he turned back to the road. "And I'm sorry. I just wanted to see you."

I didn't push him any further on the subject. I forced myself to sit up in hopes of staying awake. Zac didn't let go of my hand the rest of the way. I looked over at him confused when we pulled up to a hiking trail.

"Umm. . . Zac?"

"Yeah?" He said, turning towards me.

"Isn't there like. . . Doesn't hiking trails close when it gets dark?"

"Most do," he laughed as he got out of the car.

I stayed in the car as he got out and jogged to my side. He grabbed my hand and helped me out of the car. He kept my hand in his as we looked at the path.

"I did some research and this hiking trail is well lit," he started to explain. "It's known for late-night hikes. People take this trail when they want to hike under a sky of stars."

"But. . ."

"Y/N," he said, turning towards me when he sensed my nerves. "This is completely safe, I promise. I wouldn't take you somewhere you could get hurt."

I took a shaky breath that Zac responded to by squeezing my hand. "Besides," he whispered, "we aren't going to get separated."

"What if. . ."

"I won't let us," he quickly interrupted me. "I promise, Y/N, I'll be right by your side the entire time."

"Okay," I sighed, still a little nervous.

Just like Zac promised, he was by my side the entire hike. In fact, he never let go of my hand. When we got to the top of the trail, it was worth the midnight hike.

"Wow," I whispered when I saw the view. There was something both beautiful and eerie about the city at night. Only a few lights were on and the moon lit the rest.

"I know," Zac chuckled.

He tightened his grip on my hand, slightly pulling me closer to him. After a few beats of silence, I finally asked him the question that's been bouncing around my head since he showed up at my place.

"Can I ask you something?" I hesitated.

"Of course," Zac laughed. His smile fell when he saw me wrapping my arms tightly around myself. He quickly took off his zip-up and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"Thanks," I whispered. He smiled as he zipped it up.

"So," he cleared his throat. "You had a question for me?"

"Yeah," I stuttered. "Why did you knock on my balcony door at midnight and ask me to go on an adventure?"

"I missed you," he shrugged.

"If you missed me, you could've come over in the morning. Not at midnight as soon as you got off the plane. What's going on?"

"I wanted to take my best friend on an adventure. What's wrong with that?" He laughed.

"You left me this weird message before you got on the plane and then showed up at my place, begging to take me on a midnight adventure. That isn't normal, Zac. You've been gone three months filming and. . ."

I gasped as he cut me off and pressed his lips to mine. Once the shock wore off, I started to kiss him back. The kiss was soft, slow, and almost hesitant.

Zac slowly broke the kiss, leaning back so he could see my expression. Our breathing matched as we tried to get it under control. I opened and closed my mouth, struggling to figure out what to say. Thankfully, Zac spoke up first.

"The reason I needed to see you when I got home was because I missed you," he whispered. "But not the normal amount. I spent every day the last few months, wishing you were with me. The show was amazing and I had some incredible experiences but they would've been better if you were there to experience them with me. The more I missed you, the more I realized why."

Instead of continuing, Zac leaned in and pressed his lips back to mine. Our lips immediately started moving in sync as we stood at the top of the trail, looking over the sleeping city. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on mine.

"Why did you miss me so much?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Zac chuckled as he leaned back and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest.

"Because I'm in love with you."

The way he said it was so simple, it felt like it was something we both should've known for a long time.

"You're in love with me," I slowly repeated. He smiled as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my cheek.

"Yes, I am." He said firmly. His smile slightly fell as he let go of my cheek. "I don't know when things changed, but I know they did. I hope I didn't ruin our friendship by doing this or. . ."

I cut him off by standing on my toes and pressing my lips to his. I felt him smile against my lips as he started kissing me back. I let out a small moan as he tightened his arms around me, pulling me closer to his chest.

I slowly slid my hands up his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck. I giggled into the kiss as he picked me up. We broke the kiss, Zac still holding me up.

We stared into each other's eyes as we caught our breath. Zac slowly put me down but didn't let me go.

"I'm in love with you."

"You're in love with me?" He repeated. I smiled at the smirk on his face.

"I guess so," I whispered as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

Once we broke the kiss, we decided to head home. We walked back down the trail the same way we did on the way up, hand-in-hand, but it was different.

When we got to his car, I smiled as he held the door open for me. We headed home, the only sound coming from the radio. I smiled when he reached over and grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers. Right as I was about to fall asleep, I heard Zac whisper something.

"See? It wasn't a bad midnight adventure."

[taehyungs-perm]

midnight love - ch. 1

collab with @jimins-filter

jimin x reader; superhero au; childhood best friends to lovers au; ceo, billionaire philanthropist, playboy!jimin

genre: angst; lowkey funny; eventual smut

summary: playboy park jimin comes back to seoul city after disappearing for six years; too much has changed, especially you. living out your nights as nyx, seoul city’s dark knight, is a secret you’ve kept for as long as jimin’s disappeared. but what happens when a new hero named eros comes into town just as park jimin shows up at your front door…

word count: 5k

chapter 2

PLAYBOY BILLIONAIRE PARK JIMIN BACK IN SEOUL

You stared at the main headline on the trending page of Twitter, clutching a cup of iced coffee, desperately trying not to crush the plastic cup as you sat on your bed. You didn’t know if you should feel relieved or annoyed that Jimin was back in Seoul. You clicked on the headline and your phone was immediately filled with pictures and videos of strippers, people doing lines of coke, and a wealthy array of booze.

Of course Jimin did this. It was so on brand of him: to go missing for six years and then show up unannounced and throw a giant, extravagant party (at his newly purchased penthouse in downtown Seoul, of course). In the most simplest terms, you were pissed. Even after all these years, you had held out some hope that when he came back the first thing he would do is come see you or call you. But nothing. No text, no call, hell not even a letter. You scoffed at your naivety. You clearly didn’t matter to him.

You rubbed your head in annoyance and threw your phone on the bed, trying to expel any thought of Park Jimin and focus on the case you had pulled up on your laptop. You’ve been working at it for a week now and any and all concentration you had mustered while drinking your 7th cup of coffee went down the drain when you heard a sharp ring from your phone. You picked it up from where you threw it on your bed, the phone screen illuminating your face in the dim light of your room. It was an unknown number. You hesitated for a second. It could be a work-related call, you realize, quickly picking up the call.

“Hello?” you answered, skeptical.

“______?”

What the fuck? How did he get your number? Your mind was racing with thoughts, thoughts that you had long since repressed ever since he left without a word. When you didn’t respond, he repeated your name again. His voice was as silky and calming as it was last time you heard it six years ago.

“Jimin?” you whispered, scared that this was all an illusion, that his voice would just suddenly disappear. 

As much as you wanted to be mad at him, you couldn’t. You really couldn't. He was your kryptonite. From covering for him when he skipped detention to writing his college essays, you would do anything for him. Well, you used to. That was a different time, a different you. Back then, you knew you could depend on Jimin like he depended on you. But that was before he broke your heart and your trust.

“______” he said giggly. He was drunk. Why are you not surprised?

A surge of annoyance went through you.

“Back from the dead?” you asked, dryly

“It sure feels like hell since you're not here. Why didn’t you come?” he whined.

“Where? To the brothel you call a home?” You let out a shaky laugh of disbelief. “ I had work,  Jimin. In case you’ve forgotten, some of us actually have a job.”

“I missed you.” he said in a feather light tone, sending shivers down your spine.

You wanted to believe him, every ounce of your being wanted to believe he meant those words. But you knew Jimin. He was irresponsible, he was a playboy, he was reckless, and most of all, he was a liar.

“Jimin, what do you want?”  you said exasperated.

“I want you. Can you please come over? I just wanna see you. That’s all I want. I don’t want this party and I don’t want anyone in my house except you.”

God, he can spew some bullshit. “I have to work Jimin. I can't come over. I have shit to do” you said coldly.

“Please? I know fucked up ______ I know I did. And I’m sorry. I'm trying to make things right. With us.”

And just like that you were 18 again, falling for his words and his empty promises.

“Jimin..” you said trailing off, unsure of what to do. You offhandedly glanced at your clock, it read 1:25 am. It wasn’t that late. You normally didn’t go to sleep until 3:00 am anyways.

“My driver’s already at your house” he said quickly.

“Fine. But I’m only staying for 20 minutes. Then your driver is going to take me straight back home. Got it?”

“Got it, darling.”

You glanced in the mirror. You were wearing grey sweatpants with an unzipped grey hoodie, revealing your white Calvin Klein bra. Your hair was falling out of the braid you had put it in a few hours ago, with a few strands covering your eyes. You were tempted for a moment to change, maybe wash your face, but then the familiar surge of annoyance came back. You were there to hear whatever bullshit excuse Jimin had, nothing else, nothing more; it didn't matter what you looked like, the last person on earth you had to impress was Jimin.

You slipped on some slides and walked out of your apartment, spotting the black Mercedes on your driveway. You felt a gust of brisk air hit you as you slid into the backseat of the car.

“Ms. ______?” the driver called from the front seat, his eyes meeting yours through the rearview mirror.

“Yes?” you said, shivering from the cold.

“Mr. Park insisted I come here to pick you up, if that’s alright?”

“It’s fine. But this is a short visit. I won't be staying there long.”

The driver nodded and reversed onto the main road. The drive was short. You had just about scrolled through some emails before the driver had parked the car in front of a large black tower. The driver got out of the front seat and opened your door. You stepped out, suddenly feeling very under dressed. He escorted you to the front desk where he whispered something to the concierge.

“He will be taking you up to Mr. Park’s penthouse,” the driver said, presenting the concierge. “I will be waiting out front for whenever you would like to be taken home.”

You nodded and thanked the driver, and then followed the concierge to the last elevator on the right of the lobby. You stepped in and watched as he swiped a card and tapped a few numbers on the keypad of the elevator. High security, you thought.

You watched the number on the screen inside the elevator go from 1 to 69 in a matter of seconds. The doors swiftly opened leading straight into the living room. Your mouth gaped open at the sight. There were girls stumbling around in their stiletto heels drunk, wine glasses and beer cans scattered on the floors, a bra hanging from the chandelier, and too many naked people. You looked back at the concierge who seemed unfazed by the animalistic sight,  standing in the elevator only for a moment before the doors closed behind you.

You carefully made your way through the mess when you heard a familiar voice, “Please put on some clothes mister. There are designated drivers who will take you directly to your residence.”

You whipped your head and saw a completely distraught Namjoon with his hands covering his eyes, talking to a completely naked man.

“Namjoon?” You said incredulously.  It had been a couple of years at least since you last saw him.

“______!” he said, immediately breaking into his familiar dimpled smile. He pulled you in a small hug. “It’s been too long! What are you doing here?”

“Um..Jimin asked me to come.” You admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Oh..” Namjoon knew your history with Jimin, the long complicated story of nothing. “He’s in his bedroom,” Namjoon said, pointing down the long hallway to the left.

You started to make your way to his room but as you walked, the old feelings of butterflies started to creep up. God, stop it. Literally look at this. He’s an idiot, a fuckboy, a full on hot mess. You don’t need this. You don’t need him.

His bedroom door was cracked slightly open, revealing a soft stream of moonlight trailing into the hallway. You pushed the heavy door open as you exhaled all your stupid worries. The room was quiet but you noticed some strewn pieces of clothing on the floor here and there. You saw a corner of the black framed bed but it was covered by large frosted glass panels. You walked over to his bed and saw the one and only Park Jimin. He laid there, his arm covering his eyes and his brown hair all messed up.. He wore a simple dress pant and shirt, the top buttons unbuttoned. His shirt was slightly raised, revealing his defined V line.

“You have a wine stain on your shirt.” you said bluntly, wanting to point out the imperfections on the oh so perfect Park Jimin.

Jimin smirked, lifting his arm from over his eyes. He looked at you lazily, his eyes slowly raking up and down your body.  

“Nice to see you too beautiful,” he said sleepily.

“I’m here, Jimin,” you sighed, crossing your arms. You shifted to the side, looking at him exasperatedly. “What do you want?””

“Just wanted to see you,” He mumbled, tucking the escaped strands of hair behind your ear. Jimin leaned forward, balancing on his elbows, and whispered in your ear, “I missed you.”

You fought back a blush and pulled away. “No shit, you’ve been gone for 6 years.”

“I didn’t mean to be gone for that long, it just happened.”

“You could’ve called or texted.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Everything’s always complicated with you, Jimin,”

“C’mon darling, I’m here now,” Jimin said sweetly, trying to reel you back.

“You didn’t even fucking call me when you came into town. I found out through twitter!”

“Well, I called you now,” Jimin teased, sitting up on the bed, about to grab your arm.

You softly shook your head before walking towards his sleek black dresser and pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

“You should change,” you said, throwing the clothes at Jimin who caught them with ease. You turned around, your back toward him to give him some privacy. You faced the floor to ceiling windows that took up one part of his room, overlooking downtown Seoul. The lights of the city twinkled with wonder and the cool gray fog covered it with secrets.

You suddenly felt a body press against your back. Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist and he leaned his head in the crook of your shoulder. You wanted nothing more than to just melt into his arms and forget about everything. But that could never happen. You turned around, trying to get him away from you before you did something stupid like kiss him. God, you couldn’t think around him.

Jimin obediently pulled away, stepping back so that the two of you were now facing each other. You saw that Jimin decided to forego a shirt, allowing you to get a better view of his sculpted abs. Your eyes immediately caught his tattoo that definitely was not there before: NEVERMIND written in all caps in a scraggly font. There were various scars littering his chest, some of them even looked fresh. What in the hell was he doing in the time that he was gone?

His voice came out genuine but you could hear a tinge of desperation that you hadn’t recognized before, “I meant it, you know?”

“Jimin,” you sighed. You looked up to meet his brown eyes. He looked at you anxiously, craving your forgiveness. “I don’t think you missed me. I think you missed your life.”

“I’m being serious ______. I really fucking miss you. I thought about you everyday,” he continued, trying to convince you.  

“Maybe I would believe you, but there’s four naked girls in your living room right now. Your actions beg to differ.” You grabbed your phone that you left on his dresser and walked to the entrance of his room . Just as you were about to close the door, you turned around to look at him. “You haven’t changed one bit, Park Jimin.”

☙

You slipped off your slides as you re-entered your apartment, the sound of silence overwhelming you. Everything about him was running through your mind as you laid down on your bed, trying to process what had just happened. The scars on his body, the tattoos, his eyes: it was everything about him changed but nothing really had. He still had the same charming smile and idiotic behavior. You tried to close your eyes and finally get some sleep but you were still unsettled from the whole interaction with Jimin. Deciding operation sleep was a no go, you got up from your soft pillows and stretched your body. You knew only one thing would put all of this nervous energy to use: patrolling the city. 

You stepped into your closet and pulled out your suit: black cargo pants with a fitted athletic black tank top tucked in. Underneath your top, you wore a sleeveless blue turtleneck which doubled as a mask. You felt yourself fall into the familiar routine of suiting up, lacing up your boots and pulling your hair into a ponytail. You remember being so nervous the first few times you went patrolling, whether it was for your life or fear of failure, you can’t be sure. But now, you felt calm and relaxed. Even though you could never guess what new dangers would emerge from the depths of the city, you knew the citizens of Seoul could always rely on you. And at the end of the day, that’s what made you truly happy: helping others. It’s why you became a lawyer and it’s also why you donned the identity of Nyx.

Dipping your fingers in a pot of black face paint, you drew a crescent moon facing up on your forehead. You quickly put on your black gloves and pulled up the blue neck of your shirt so it covered your mouth and nose.  You stared at yourself in the mirror and didn’t recognize yourself; you only saw the beloved dark knight of Seoul city: Nyx. Grabbing your two daggers that were sheathed in black leather, you climbed out of your bedroom window. The only benefit of living in an apartment without a balcony was that right next to your window was the fire escape stairs, leading directly to the roof of your building. 

You peered down at Seoul, not seeing the beauty you had just seen from Jimin’s penthouse window, but rather witnessing the darkness and destruction that was slowly consuming the city. Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw the distinct crescent moon symbol that was flipped to form a “U" flash into the dark sky, the symbol of Nyx. It was coming from the Seoul City Police Department and you knew exactly who had signaled it.

You grabbed the nylon rope tucked into your pocket and pulled out a small metal tin. You clicked a button on the side of the tin, transforming it into a grappling hook. After securing the hook on the roof ledge, you rappelled down the building, safely landing on the ground. Tucking the rope and hook into your pockets, you made your way to the building’s garage where your beloved motorcycle was waiting for you.

You hopped on the bike and drove for what seemed like 10 minutes before arriving in front of the police department. You made use of your rope and grappling hook again, as you scaled the building to get to the roof. There, you saw a man with his back towards you wearing a long, black trench coat. 

“Detective Kim,” you called to the man, standing anxiously by the large spotlight with the Nyx symbol plastered on it. 

“Nyx,” he said whipping his head in the direction of your voice, “Good to see you. It’s been awhile.” 

It had been awhile. Detective Kim Seokjin had been only a small-time detective at the SCPD when you first started out. After realizing you both had the same goals and wishes for this city, you and Detective Kim decided to work together, confiding each other in your missions and reports on crime. 

You nodded, “Seoul has been quiet. Too quiet.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it means I’m missing something.”

“Missing what?”

“I’m not sure yet. And that’s what makes me afraid.”

“Never thought I would hear those words from the hero of Seoul.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just doing what I can.”

“The people of Seoul love you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed, but I don’t want them to depend on me.”

“Why? Planning a vacation?” he said teasingly.

“Maybe. This really isn't my day job. Can’t be Nyx all the time.” you said, smiling.

“Anyways, I wanted to update you on something that’s been going on. We’ve kept it out of the news so far but with how things are going, I have a feeling that this will make headlines soon. People at the office wanted to take care of it ourselves but I can’t stand by any longer. We need your help.” Detective Kim said handing you a tan file folder. 

You rifled through the file as he continued to speak, “There have been 2 robberies at the two major banks, Bank of Seoul and Seoul Holdings Inc.”

“When did they happen?”

“Bank of Seoul was yesterday afternoon and Seoul Holdings was two days before.”

“Any leads?”

“We think it might be mob related.”

You looked up from the papers to meet Jin’s concerned eyes, “We cleaned up the mob.”

“Maybe they resurfaced, or maybe this is something entirely new we are dealing with.”

“Any idea of where they’re going to hit next?”

“We think Seoul United.”

“Have a unit there at all times. Make sure they keep track of who is coming in and out. Based on these two robberies, the next one is going to happen soon.”

“Got it. I’ll form a team and get them down there as soon as possible.” 

You had reached the end of file when a small business card slipped out and fell to the ground. You knelt down and picked it up, flipping to the front of the card, expecting to see the business card of one of the banks. But it was just a blank card with a demented looking smiley face drawn in blood red ink.

“What’s this?”

“Right. I almost forgot. We found that in the empty bank vault at the Bank of Seoul.”

“Did you have labs run an analysis on this?”

“Yep. They found nothing. No fingerprints, no trace of anything on the card. Completely blank.”

“What about the ink?”

“It’s ink. Not blood.”

“Find out what exact ink this is. Maybe it can give us a lead on something.”

Jin nodded as you handed the file back to him. You grabbed onto your grappling hook. But before you slipped back into the darkness you called out to him, “Keep me posted.”

☙

Waking up was too hard. You were far from a morning person, hitting snooze on your phone alarm until the last possible minute. Between seeing Jimin and meeting Detective Kim, you got a total of four hours of sleep, which was not nearly enough for your strenuous schedule. After hitting snooze for the fourth time, you had to scramble to get ready. You quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face, and combed your hair before changing into a black pantsuit. Slipping your laptop into your leather messenger bag, you blindly grabbed for your keys as you headed out the door, almost stumbling in your black heels. 

You made it to your office just in time, but because of your tardiness in the morning, you weren’t able to get any caffeine. You sighed, blowing the escaped strands of hair from out of your face, you knew it was going to be a long day. You opened your office door and saw your long time best friend sitting at her desk, opposite of yours. 

“Hey ______! Rough morning?” she said, chuckling at your state.

“Hey Sana,” you replied, giving her a quick hug. “ More like a rough night.”

“Who’s the lucky guy? I saw that Park Jimin is back in town,” she said teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Don’t even get me fucking started. “ You said groaning as you sat down at your desk.

“You went to his party?” she said shocked. “You know, I’m still offended he didn’t invite me. And after all we went through in college. I wrote so many essays for that punk—” 

“I didn’t want to go. He called me. Drunk off his ass.”

“Oh my god, really?” Sana said, pausing her rant about how ungrateful Jimin was and opted to lean forward in her seat to her what you had to say.

“Yeah and he asked me to come over.”

“So did you?”

“I did.”

“______!” She gasped at your actions.

“It’s complicated. But I went over and saw him.”

“What did he want?”

“Nothing. Or well he wanted to talk to me. See me I guess. He apologized.”

“For what? For leaving and not telling you? For breaking your hea—”

“For leaving Sana. He apologized for being gone for six years and for not calling me once.”

“What, he just said sorry and expected you to forgive him?” 

“Yeah I guess,” you said shrugging.

“Men are so fucking stupid.”

‘Tell me about it. Anyways, then I ended up meeting Detective Kim. Well, Nyx did.”

“Damn, you had a long night. What did he say?”

“He said there's been a couple of robberies, one at Bank of Seoul and the other at Seoul Holdings. They think Seoul United is next.”

“What's the plan?”

“He’s gonna set up a unit there to keep watch 24/7.”

“And what's our plan?”

You smiled at her words, “I was hoping Team Nyx could help me out.”

☙

After a long day at the office and figuring out a plan for the bank robberies, you were completely drained and wanted to do nothing except curl up in your bed and watch Netflix. You got home, kicked off your heels, dropped your messenger bag to the ground, and started to walk to your bedroom, thinking about which episode of New Girl you were going to watch. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, interrupting your train of thought. You wondered who would show up at your place unannounced at this time. You looked through the peephole of your door to see none other than Park Jimin holding a bouquet of roses. You stepped back from the door exasperated. You thought you had been clear of your hatred for him the other night.

You felt your heart beating slightly faster. Stop it, you chided yourself. It was evident from the other night that Jimin was still the same: a player and a liar. There was no place in your already busy life for someone as reckless as Jimin; you needed to focus and Jimin was an unnecessary distraction. 

You opened the door to Jimin, his hair tousled from the wind. He was wearing a black blazer, with a black shirt tucked into a pair of, you guessed it, black jeans.

“Hi,” was all he said, standing in your doorway and giving his signature smile.

“What are you doing here Jimin?” you said, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“I just wanted to explain myself again. Our talk last night didn’t go as I hoped.”

“And what exactly were you hoping for?” you snarkily.

“Forgiveness?” his wide eyes locked onto yours. 

“Jimin...”  you started to trail off. 

“I’m sorry ______. I told you, I wanted to call you but I just couldn’t.” 

“That’s such bullshit,” you started to close the door but Jimin caught it, pushing it aside to step into your apartment. He closed the door behind him, and he glanced around your apartment, taking in the place before looking back at you.

“______ please, trust me. If I could have called you even for one second just to hear your voice, I would have.” 

You looked into his eyes and saw his sincerity. You didn’t know what to think. You wanted to believe him so badly.

“I—” you started to say but Jimin cut you off.

“I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose, you know that,” Jimin said looking at you intensely. “Can you please forgive me?”

You didn’t want to fight with Jimin anymore. As much as you hated him for what he did, you missed your best friend. And deep down, you knew he was right, that he would never hurt you.

You let out a deep sigh, “Okay Jimin, I forgive you.”

Jimin once again gives his charming smile. He looked like he was about to hug you but refrained himself from doing so. Instead, he handed you the bouquet of roses he had been holding, “For you.”

You were so caught up in your fight with Jimin that you didn’t register the peculiar color of the roses until he handed them to you. They were black roses. The color was as dark as the night sky. You looked at Jimin then back to the flowers. There was no way he would have known right? There were only two people who knew that you were Nyx. Jimin just came back from Seoul so he couldn't possibly know.

“Why black?” you asked carefully, studying his expression and body language for any clues that suggested he knew of your secret identity.

Jimin just shrugged in response. “It’s your favorite color.”

“You still remember?” you asked incredulously, shaking your head.

“You’re a hard person to forget,” Jimin said quietly. He took a step closer to you and you suddenly registered the nonexistent distance between the two of you. You felt his hot breath fanning your face and you felt like your heart was pounding so hard he could feel it. Jimin tilted your chin up so that you were forced to look at him, staring into his brown eyes. You shivered at the contact of his cold fingers against your skin. He looked at your lips before looking back at your wide eyes, silently asking for your permission. 

“I can’t,” you whispered apologetically, trying to push his hand away.

Jimin caught your hands, his metal rings pressing into your hands, as he tried to catch your gaze, “Why not?”

You finally meet his eyes looking at you imploringly, waiting for an answer. 

“I have a boyfriend,” you choked out, knowing those exact words would be like venom to him. 

Jimin immediately let go of your hands at that moment. His expression hardened and he clenched his jaw: his telltale sign of anger. He walked away from you to sit on the navy blue sofa in your living room, spreading his legs as he sat down.

“I see,” he said coldly. 

“You can’t be mad at me. That’s not fair.” You said irritated, turning around to look at him.

“I never said I was mad,” he said, staring at the wooden flooring, not meeting your eyes.

“Jimin, you left. You left for six years and you didn’t tell me. What was I supposed to do? Wait around for you?”

“I just—” Jimin ran his fingers through his hair with frustration before letting his face rest in his hands. “I just thought things would be the same when I came back.” He said helplessly.

“Well, you thought wrong.” you quipped, crossing your arms over your chest, looking away. 

Jimin was quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I’m happy for you. Really. I would love to meet him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You scoffed.

“C’mon, we should try to move forward. At least be friends again.”

“Jimin, I just need some time. You can’t just show up in my life unexpectedly and expect everything to be the same. It doesn’t work that way.” You sighed. You opened the door for him, a silent indicator that he should leave. Jimin glanced at the door and your tired expression. 

He got up from where he was sitting and made his way towards the door,  “I understand ______. But know that I’m here for you. Anytime. I just want you back in my life again.”

He looked at you one more time before heading out, leaving you at the doorway as you clutched the black roses. You watched from the window as he got into his car, ignoring how the crushed petals slowly fluttered to the ground.

authors’ note: guysss this is @jimins-filter first posted fic (ah!). so there might be a few things that are a bit confusing in text but if you wanna see references as to how we came up with nyx’s character, Elektra’s costume and fighting style from Daredevil (the Netflix TV show) was a major inspo for Nyx, additionally we did take some style inspo (the crescent moon symbol on the forehead) from the Painted Lady from ATLA. We are super excited for this fic and hope you guys will love it. This is VERY different from strawberry girl so this is something different for me as well. give a follow to @jimins-filter her blog is aesthetic af. ty for reading and let us know what you think so far! 💜💜

[lizzy-williams]

𝐦𝐫. 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

((Howdy there, this is my first time writing on here, so I hope you enjoy!))

Masterlist

Summary: You accept a job as an assistant to the now world-famous Colson Baker, who shattered the charts with his album Tickets To My Downfall, and an Oscar winner for his success in the award-winning film titled Midnight in the Switchgrass, which also starred his ex, Megan Fox. But once you are accepted for the job, you seem to get closer than anticipated with Mr. Baker. 

𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑫 graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business administration, you had never expected to be getting a job like this. Sure, you had heard about your employer. He had won an Oscar for christ’s sake. Not to mention a Grammy-winning album. You had to say that personally, you were a fan, which was one of the main reasons you interviewed for the job. But never in a million years did you think you would land it. 

When you were employed, you were expected to start right after you had applied, which you obliged, even though his house was a thirty-minute drive away. 

So now, there you were, sitting in your car, taking deep breaths. You had arrived several minutes early. You had pulled into the driveway, breathing in and out as you prepared yourself. You were excited but scared out of your mind.

“Come on, AJ, you got this, just go in there and try to not be a nuisance,” you spoke to yourself. With a deep breath, you exited the vehicle brushing yourself up, walking up the long, intimidating stairs. 

You raised your hand up, taking hold of the lion-shaped knocker and knocked three times, the echos being heard even from the outside. The door was large and almost looming over you with its height. You took the waiting time to look around at the garden out front, trimmed to perfection and colorful pink roses littering the gravel. It was nothing less than stunning. 

“Who’s there?” a voice asked, making you jump, your eyes shifting around. 

You then realized the voice was a Ring doorbell system, and you mentally slapped yourself for not just using that. You leaned down slightly, trying to meet the camera’s eye, giving a warm smile. 

“Um, I’m Adeline Williams, I’m the new assistant for Mr. Baker, I was instructed to start today,”

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” 

The voice was deeper then what you would think Mr. Baker would sound like, having seen plenty of interviews. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing a tall African-American male. He had to be at least six feet tall. 

“What’s up, I’m Slim,” He held his hand out for a handshake, which you quickly took. 

“Yeah, I’m Adeline, but you can just call me AJ,” you responded, “Where is Mr. Baker?”

“Yeah, he’s still asleep. His manager made you a binder for your duties and other stuff. It’s good to meet you though, just feel free to come in and grab your stuff in the kitchen.” He stated, stepping aside and motioning for you to enter. 

You walked in, taking in the entryway. The walls were littered with gold record plaques for collabs he had done with other artists. Paintings of him were scattered around, some furniture almost automatically spotted that looked more expensive than your entire apartment. The ceiling was high-up, light fixtures illuminating the space, giving off a warm feel to the area. 

You slipped off your flats, Slim already slipping away into the maze of the house, leaving you to find the kitchen by yourself. Your sock-clad feet patted across the hard floor, your eyes wandering around, trying to find the kitchen in the stupidly large house. 

You walked down a hallway, reaching another large room, but now the walls were covered in posters and guitars, a drum set in the corner, recording systems, speakers, and even a Monster Energy Drink sponsored mini fridge which was fully stocked, drawings and art above it, the window next to it letting a fair amount of light in, the curtains drawn. You walked over to the drum set, running your hand on one of the symbols, which had sadly had a light coat of dust on it. Come to think of it, so did most of the other instruments.

“You could play them if you want,” another voice said behind you, making you jump and whip around, your eyes instantly meeting the eyes of your employer. 

He was tall, six foot four according to Google, his exposed chest littered with so many tattoos, you couldn’t possibly count them all. His bleach-blond hair was long and shaggy on top of his head, meaning he had probably just woken up, grey sweatpants covering his bottom half, the hem of his boxers peeking over the waistband of the grey material, making you blush and meet his eyes again. 

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, I don’t play,” you then mentally slapped yourself once again, “Sorry, what am I saying. I’m Adeline - Um, Williams, I’m here as your new assistant.” 

He looked you up and down, taking in you attire, a slight sneer appearing on his face, only for a second. You guessed by his reaction that you were over-dressed. 

“You look like a kindergarten teacher.” he laughed. 

“Uhm, noted, do you... want me to take off my sweater or something?” you asked. 

He scoffed, biting his lip and turning away, holding back from saying something that you were guessing would piss you off. 

You sighed, slipping off your sweater and messing with your hands, “Would you mind showing me to your kitchen? Your friend, Slim told me that your manager had had something in there for me,”

“Yeah, follow me,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking away, your own small feet scuttering across the floor, following him. 

And of course, the kitchen was as stunning at the rest of the house, the size, making it look like a gourmet kitchen. And there on one of the granite countertops was a .5 inch pale white binder. Colson walked over to his coffee machine, starting it up and watching you walk over, opening it up. 

It listed normal duties like setting up venues for tours, making appointments with the production company, merchandise shipment, and payment, normal duties for Colson himself, (Making iced coffee, booking flights, rides for Casie, his daughter, for school, etc.), and traveling with him to the recording studio for sessions, along with renting time for the studio itself. 

“So, what do ya think. The list gonna scare you off?” he asked, a sly smile on his face. 

“Well, seems easy enough. It just seems like a lot of booking things.” you smiled, “But it shouldn’t be a problem at all, Mr. Baker.”

He grimaced, “Yikes, just call me Colson. You make me sound like an old man. And if I’m going to be seeing you every day, we kinda need to be on a first-name basis.” he said, opening one of the hundreds of cabinets on the wall, pulling out a mug, “What’s your name again?”

“Adeline. But you can just call me AJ.” you looked back down at the papers, turning to a page to all the numbers needed for your position. 

“What’s the J?” 

“Huh?” you asked, not looking away from the page. 

“Well, in AJ I already know what the A is, so what’s the J?” He smirked, pouring the coffee grounds into the coffee maker, pressing start. 

“Oh, um, Jane.” you shrugged off. 

“Adeline Jane Williams,” he repeated to himself out loud. 

Your heart unintentionally fluttered. Never in a million years did you think that Colson Baker, Machine Gun Kelly, would ever say your full name. 

The day went by smoothly, your brain soon catching onto the rhythm of things, you and Colson making small talk as you typed away, sending emails to the publishing companies, his agent, manager, and PR team. Colson would occasionally text you to make him a drink, which you did, always getting right back to work afterward. People came in and out, paying you no mind. The only one you honestly recognized was Rook, his drummer, who only came in to grab a beer from the fridge. Soon enough, the time reached 5 o’clock. 

“So, what do you wanna eat?” he suddenly asked, walking into the kitchen area, leaning over the counter you were working at. 

The sound of the TV played as you heard the laughter of a group of people in the other room. 

“Oh, I honestly have no preference,” you answered honestly, looking up from your Chromebook. 

“You sure? Me and the guys were gonna Postmate some stuff, but they can’t decide either.”

“Ummm, I heard there’s a really good restaurant downtown called Beau Jo's. Hear they have a mean menu of Cajun food.” you perked up, 

“Alright, Beau Jo’s it is.” He responded, picking up his phone and walking away. 

Even though you two had small talk, you still felt like he was so cold to you. Like he didn’t like you, or he didn’t trust you. But you really needed this job. After you finished with your work, you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

There, you were greeted with glancing eyes of 20 or more people, who were scattered throughout the space. 

A man walked up to you, looking eccentric as ever. You only knew him because you knew he dated Bella Thorne, but you would never tell him that. 

“Heyyyy, you must be the new assistant. Welcome to the best years of your life!” he greeted, slinging an arm around your shoulders, a cola in his other hand. The smell of expensive cologne. 

“Modern Sunshine, I presume?” I asked in a snobby British accent, making him laugh. 

“Yo Kells! I like this chick!” he called out to Colson, who was across the room talking to some blond broad in short shorts and a crop top. 

“Why don’t you come meet the rest of the guys.”

Well, you knew it was coming. It was the end of the night and everyone had gone home, and it was your job to order Ubers for everyone who wasn’t fit to drive. (Which was close to half the people there). 

You gathered up your things, sighing as you grabbed your kindergarten teacher sweater, packing it in your bag along with your computer and everything else. Finally, you tucked the binder into the back pocket. 

“You heading out?” Colson asked from behind you, his hand on your shoulder. 

Your arms formed goosebumps as you looked back smiling, “Yeah, I think it’s that time.” 

“Cool. Well, have a good night.” he said while you slipped on your flats, “Oh, and one more thing before you go.”

You turned your head to look into his eyes. 

“Tomorrow wear something more... spicy,”