#that's proper tagging. anything beyond that is a courtesy and people would do REALLY WELL to remember that

[queerofthedagger]

everyone write 100 lines of "'creator chose not to use archive warnings' is proper tagging no matter what else is in that fic and if you OPEN a fic tagged as such it's entirely on you whatever you find in there" before going back to any discourse on dark fic and antis i am BEGGING

[bnhayyy]

The Call (4)

Chapter Title: Bonds

Wordcount: 5.8k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Mikasa has a rough patrol with Annie, which managed to lead into a good day.

Notes: Ymir is far too fun to write. I can’t include her in every chapter, but my god.. I want to. Also! I would like to offer a big thank you to Celadon for continuing to help me with story planning as well as to Gabey and Cerdine for doing a spelling/grammar beta. Also, if you enjoy this fic, please consider sending me an ask, leaving a comment, or donating to my ko-fi!

Mikasa knew the difference a few nights of proper rest could make. However, there was a difference between knowing through memories that seemed to grow ever-distant and allowing herself to experience it once again. She felt... refreshed wasn't quite the word. It wasn't strong enough to describe the sensation that had grasped her. Even though her break had been interrupted by bouts of studying as she tried to play catch-up on her schoolwork, she still felt like new life had been breathed into her lungs.

The most unbelievable part? She had only allowed herself three nights. Somehow, those three nights had made a world of difference.

No, not 'somehow'. She knew exactly how and why.

Three nights of rest had done Mikasa a world of improvement because Erwin, Armin, and Annie were right. She had been wearing herself too thin.

Perhaps it was a little childish of her, but she didn't plan on admitting it to any of them. She didn't want to risk being faced with smugness - or worse yet - relief. It was bad enough that Eren had been following her around and shooting her looks of pleasure and pride since she woke up that morning. The real people in her life would simply have to be content with her changing her behavior and not making a big deal of it.

Or at least, changing her behavior as much as possible. Frequent breaks and regular relaxation time simply weren't something that a slayer could afford. Even if she wasn't alone, she would never be able to have a leisurely life.

However, it would be a lie to say that she had not started considering Annie's offer more seriously. She still didn't know if she could trust her, but she had already seen the wisdom in giving her a chance. This had added an element of temptation to that wisdom.

It was a Thursday, which meant no trigonometry. That meant her last class was at four in the afternoon, long before the sunset. She always left her slaying supplies at home on Thursdays and walked home to get them after class. It was never much of a problem for her. However, today it felt off. That temptation was following her, nipping at her heel with every step home.

She refused to acknowledge it outright. However, as it continued to nag at her, she decided that she could do something in the vicinity of giving in. She could acknowledge Annie's helpfulness enough to pay her a basic courtesy.

Mikasa nodded to herself. Eren gave her an odd look, but didn't comment.

His silence lasted until she had gone home, collected her things, and immediately went back to the door.

"Mikasa?" Eren was looking out the window, where it was still bright and sunny. His query was as plain as if he had spelled it out in neon technicolor.

Mikasa paused, hand on the doorknob, unsure of if she wanted to slump forward or sigh. In the end, she did neither. "I can start patrolling again," she said. "I should let Annie know before she wastes her time."

That was all. It was a sign of appreciation, an implication that she really was willing to consider Annie's offer, but nothing more. It wasn't a promise. It wasn't Mikasa letting anyone into her life beyond what she was forced to. It was just common courtesy.

Eren nodded, a playful glimmer in his eyes. Mikasa frowned, searching his gaze for vacancy or condemnation. She found none.

One of the odd things about Eren was that there seemed to be two different versions of him. Sometimes, he was distant and difficult to get a read on, cold, haunting, and unnatural. It was easy to remember that he was a hallucination when he was like that. Other times, however, he was animated and passionate, emotive and deceptively full of life. Whenever he was like that, she was sometimes tempted to think of him as an imaginary friend rather than a hallucination, for the other term began to feel irrationally cruel.

Because whenever he was like that, he reminded her of the boy she hadn't been able to save. He was easy to talk to as long as  he was like this. Too easy. If it was consistent, she might find herself faced with a temptation that was even more dangerous than the one she was currently grappling with and far harder to resist.

Mikasa might start pretending that he was really there.

She supposed it was a good thing that he manifested in the other state fairly often. As such, even in the moments where she gave in and almost let herself pretend, she could rest assured that they would only ever be moments.

"You know, I think you and Annie could be friends if you tried to get along," he remarked.

Mikasa released the doorknob as she turned to frown at him. There had been some tension between her and Annie so far, but not anything that she would classify as not getting along. Instead of pointing that out, she asked, "What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty similar, even without the slayer thing." Eren grinned. "You could probably be pretty scary together."

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

Eren faltered, his grin fading. "Ah," he said. "I just... I have a feeling."

In other words, it was just nice words in a voice that she had never stopped wanting to hear. Mikasa offered him a tiny, bittersweet smile. "We'll see," she murmured

"I'm glad that you're giving her a chance," he added.

Mikasa's breath caught in her throat as a thought occurred to her, unwanted and unbeneficial, but undeniable in how bright and fervently it manifested.

Would the real Eren want her to give Annie a chance? Would she even have a reason to?

Mikasa's gaze drifted then, past the illusion she was speaking with, as far into the depths of her apartment as she could look without turning her head. She refused to allow herself to turn her head, because if she did, she knew that she'd end up wandering back into the depths of her apartment, over to the chest that she kept her weapons in. She'd end up digging through it until she reached the thing buried at the bottom. And then she'd be too lost in guilt and grief to talk to anyone.

No. It had been over five years since that day, and she was a slayer. She had responsibilities that she couldn't neglect in favor of a memory. Even if that memory refused to let her go.

Besides, she had to talk to Annie. Speaking of which...

"Eren," Mikasa began, placing her hand back on the doorknob. "When I'm with Annie, do you think you can-"

"Go somewhere else?" Eren finished. Mikasa didn't let herself look at him, at the sad glimmer she was sure she'd notice if she did. He was painfully easy to read whenever he was like this.

"Yeah," Mikasa said. "It'll be easier without any distractions."

"Alright," Eren said. "Sure. I'll just..." He trailed off.

Despite her better judgment, Mikasa looked in his direction, only to see that he was already gone.

That was another thing about Eren. Hallucinations normally didn't go away when you asked them to, but sometimes he did.

If only it didn't make her feel so rotten.

*

Mikasa didn't allow herself to hesitate. With hesitation would come doubt, and doubt would make it too easy for her to turn around and run away. Instead, she walked onto the porch with all the ease and confidence that she didn't feel and raised her hand to knock on the door before she had even finished walking. Her feet stilled and she gave a single sharp rap with her knuckles.

She didn't need to knock a second time. Bertolt opened the door not thirty seconds later. Surprise flickered across his face when he saw her. It lingered as a friendly smile made its way across his face. Unsurprising. Mikasa knew that she hadn't exactly seemed like the friendliest person at their first meeting, and... no. Even if he had been at Erwin's meeting, she hadn't exactly been in a good mood then either. It likely wouldn't have done anything to help his impression of her.

She allowed herself to feel guilty for half a second before pushing the sensation back down.

"Mikasa," Bertolt greeted. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "Is Annie there?"

"Yeah," Bertolt said. "I'll go get her." He began to turn around, only to pause, a frown flickering across his face. Looking back at Mikasa, he asked, "You didn't exchange phone numbers?"

Mikasa paused. "Uh. I..." Didn't think about it. "Don't use my phone that often," she said.

Her cheeks felt warm. Not warm enough for her to worry that she was blushing, but certainly warmer than she would have liked.

Bertolt offered her a small, sympathetic smile. "I know Annie forgets stuff like that all the time," he said.

Mikasa frowned; she couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a callout or not, and if so, whether it was her poor social skills being highlighted or Annie's. It seemed that she wasn't going to find out either. Before she could decide if she wanted to go ahead and ask, Bertolt had turned around and was walking away. However, he hesitated just before disappearing down the hallway.

"Ah, you can come in, by the way," he said.

With that, he was gone.

Mikasa hesitantly stepped into the house. It felt better than standing out by the doorway. At least, it did at first. A few moments of awkwardly lingering in the hallway were enough to make her reconsider.

Thankfully, those few moments didn't get to stretch into anything longer. Footsteps soon began to echo through the little household, making a warm ball of relief blossom in her chest and spread out into her shoulders, driving her to roll them and loosen her posture. The sound was quiet, but what she had seen of Annie showed that she was a light, agile individual. That meant that she wasn't trying to muffle her footsteps, which was reassuring for a reason that she couldn't put her finger on. More importantly, it sounded distinctly like they were heading her way.

Annie appeared a moment later. The first thing Mikasa noticed was that Bertolt hadn't returned with her. The second was that Annie was dressed casually, but also in clothes that looked like they could take a beating. That meant that she was almost definitely planning on going on patrol tonight.

It was probably a good thing that Mikasa had stopped by to give her the news, then.

When the other slayer came to a stop a few feet away from her, Mikasa said, "I'm feeling better now."

Annie sighed. "Right to the point," she muttered.

Mikasa frowned. "I didn't think you were opposed to that," she said.

"I'm not," came Annie's response. "But I find it hard to believe that a few nights is all it would take to recover from the state you were in."

Her words were placid, spoken in a way that made it sound like they could be concern or condescension, and Mikasa couldn't tell which it was supposed to be for the life of her. She didn't know if she should smile or clench her jaw. As such, she did neither and simply offered a wary, "I'm a slayer. I recover quickly."

"I know how quickly slayers recover," Annie said. "I know that there's a mental weight as well as a physical."

"Nothing that I can't handle."

Silence as their eyes met. She didn't know how many seconds passed as they stared each other down. When Annie finally sighed and looked up at the ceiling, it didn't even feel like a victory. It couldn't be; she could tell that Annie hadn't truly given up nor relented. She was just looking for an easier path.

"You think you're ready to start patrolling again?" Annie asked, still staring up at the ceiling. An obvious question, which was probably why she didn't wait for a response. "Then go with me tonight."

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. "I don't need a babysitter," she said.

"Good, because I don't babysit." Annie lowered her gaze to give Mikasa a once-over. "You might be right, but you might also be overestimating yourself because you feel better than you did before."

Mikasa moved to protest, and Annie's eyes narrowed into ice-blue slits. "Am I wrong?" she pressed.

Mikasa faltered.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Annie pushed. "If you can honestly tell me that you're in top shape, that there is no chance that you're jumping the gun, then I'll stay home and you can go patrolling at home. But if there is any chance that you aren't at your best, then be smart. Let me support you, and least for tonight."

Mikasa let out a long breath, but managed to refrain from averting her gaze. "Fine," she said. "Meet me at the cemetery in two hours."

Annie nodded. For a moment, that looked like it would be that. However, before Mikasa could start to leave, she reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. "Here," she said, thrusting it over to Mikasa. "My number."

A quick glance down revealed that it was, indeed, a phone number. "Did you have this written?" Mikasa asked.

"The walls here are thin," Annie said. "I overheard you and Bertolt. Now he can't fret about proper communication."

The corners of Mikasa's lips twitched up. "Smart," she murmured.

"Practiced," Annie corrected. "Bertolt likes to fuss."

Like Armin, Mikasa thought. Except she and Armin weren't as close as Annie and Bertolt probably were. They couldn't be.

Putting the piece of paper in her pocket, Mikasa nodded. "I'll text you before I set out."

"I'll hold you to it," Annie said.

***

Two hours later, Mikasa and Annie met in front of the cemetery. Eren was still conspicuously absent, which brought about a cocktail of emotions that Mikasa decided to simplify and call relief. Patrolling with someone else was bound to be stressful and off-putting as it was. She didn't want the extra difficulty that would come from trying to tune out a voice that only she could hear.

They worked in silence at first, the term "worked" being used very loosely. The lack of tangible demonic activity meant that they mostly walked through the cemetery on the off chance that something would appear.

About half an hour in, Mikasa cast Annie a pensive glance. She wondered if Paradis would see an uptick in demonic activity once word spread that there were two slayers. Most supernatural beings with half a functional mind would avoid a city that had a slayer, let alone two. Yet there were still plenty who wanted to test their strength or taste the glory of killing a slayer. Aggressive demons, particularly unhinged magical practitioners, even particularly strong vampires like...

"So," a drawling voice cut through the night, its tone caught somewhere between bored and smug. "You know each other after all."

...Ymir.

The reaction was instantaneous. Annie pulled the stake out of her pocket and took a step forward the vampire, only for Mikasa to reach out and grab the other slayer by the forearm. Annie whipped her head around to glare at her, but Mikasa looked beyond her glare, at Ymir, as she hissed, "Don't. She's the one I was talking about."

Annie's eyes shifted just enough to shoot Ymir a wary look. "At the meeting?" she murmured.

"Yes." The vampire grinned, and Mikasa lowered her voice as she added, "She's stronger than the others."

"Awww," Ymir cooed. "You've been talking about me? I'm flattered." She waltzed a few steps over to a gravestone, where she sat down and shot them a laughing grin. "Want to do an interview? I'd be down."

Irritation spiked through Mikasa at the vampire's words, sharply enough that she almost grit her teeth. It was some small consolation that Annie seemed similarly affected by her blithe attitude, but was a little less talented at hiding that it bothered her. One of her eyes twitched just before she gave the vampire a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"She won't tell us anything useful," Mikasa murmured. "We'll just be wasting time."

Wasting time - just like they already were by standing there talking about it instead of acting. She couldn't let Annie go charging blindly at Ymir expecting just another vampire, but they couldn't do nothing.

"I know she won't," Annie whispered. "The ones like her never do." She paused, just for long enough to shoot another quick glance at the vampire lounging on the gravestone, then added, "We need a plan."

"Or you could just ignore me," Ymir called, a hint of irritation seeping into her voice. "That sounds like a fun way to spend the night."

"We flank her," Mikasa instructed."You go left, I go right."

Annie frowned, a faint downward twitch of her lips, and something flickered in her gaze. It made Mikasa pause. For a second, the air lit up with tension as she waited for the protest that she was sure was coming.

It was killed by a single decisive nod from Annie. "Alright," she said.

Annie stepped to the side and turned around so that they were both facing Ymir. As Annie adjusted her grip on her stake, Mikasa shifted her bag down her arm so that she could take her crossbow out. It was already prepped and loaded. The nature of the weapon meant that she would have to pause to reload if her first bolt didn't hit. That didn't stop it from being an effective weapon that allowed her to keep a distance from her opponent while providing an intimidating air that often bought her a few extra seconds.

Normally. She didn't trust that an intimidating weapon would have much of an effect on Ymir. The crossbow's delay coupled with the vampire's speed meant that she might well have failed if she didn't manage to hit her with her first bolt. Even so, their previous encounter made her feel like long-distance combat was the better route with Ymir. Enough so that she couldn't help but be a little wary at the sight of Annie with her stake.

At that moment, Mikasa regretted that she had taken this long to remember how few supplies Annie seemed to have on her during their first encounter. She would have pushed her to prepare better if she had. It was too late to deal with that now though. She'd just have to hope that Annie would take her cues and do the smart thing, dive in for quick hits at the vampire before pulling back out.

Meanwhile, Ymir sighed. She got off the gravestone and rolled her shoulders with all the careless grace of a cat. "I told you last time that I'm not ready for a fight, Ackerman," she said. "What makes you think that I'd want to take both of you on at once?"

Her voice was casual in a way that bordered on arrogance. Mikasa noticed how it made Annie's shoulders stiffen subtly out of the corner of her eyes.

"You don't get a choice," the other slayer said.

Ymir raised an eyebrow. "Bet?"

And then they were moving. Annie charged forward and to the left while Mikasa slid to the right. Ymir, meanwhile, ran away. Away, but not out. The vampire didn't seem to be aiming to get out of the cemetery. It was foolish of her, but foolish in a way that was to their advantage.

Mikasa didn't try to aim quite yet. With both herself and Ymir running, it would be a wasted shot. Annie didn't have that hindrance. As she drew in close to Ymir, she reached into her jacket pocket with her free hand and drew out a knife. Putting on a burst of speed, she managed to get mere inches from the vampire and pulled up her knife to slash across her throat -

- Only for Ymir to come to a dead stop and duck. Annie's own momentum made her continue several paces forward and slash at empty air. At that time, Mikasa readied her crossbow. However, just as her weapon lined up with her target's heart, there was a flash of movement. Quick as a blink, Ymir rushed several steps back, leaving Annie standing in the line of Mikasa's crossbow, stake primed and frustration scrawled across her face.

"You guys really suck at this teamwork thing," Ymir called in a laughing voice. She was still running - not away, but circling the area like a vulture. Mikasa spun frantically as she tried to keep up with her, trying and failing to take aim. She was moving too quickly for her to shoot at her and throwing too many unpredictable twists and turns into her path for her to predict where she would be in a few moments. Annie, who had fallen back into pursuit, was hot on her heels - but not enough. There were simply too many routes for the vampire to escape.

"You seem like you're good at close combat," Ymir told Annie. "Doesn't mean a thing if you can't get close to your opponent though."

As Mikasa gave up on her previous tactic and opened her bag to exchange her crossbow for a stake, Ymir crowed, "And you." The vampire's voice had taken on a note of exhilarated glee. It reminded her of a cat toying with a mouse - or a hawk who knew that the cat couldn't catch it. "Crossbows are a lot harder to use on someone who's actively being chased. Although it looks like you've finally realized that."

Stake in hand, Mikasa charged on Ymir. It got a loud, barking laugh from the vampire. "Too late! Should've planned ahead of time." As she spoke, she twisted around and changed directions. Now she wasn't just running in circles - now she was heading out of the cemetery.

Fuck. Mikasa forced herself to run a little faster. She drew up the right while Annie went to the left. Once they were only a few feet behind Ymir, they both began to draw inward without exchanging a word.

For one intense, pulsating moment, it looked like they would catch her. They both had their stakes. They seemed to have the same thought. The vampire looked like she was lagging.

Then, when they were only a foot behind her, Ymir laughed and put on another burst of speed. Annie cursed and Mikasa grit her teeth, both pushing themselves to try and keep up.

It was no use. When Ymir reached the edge of the cemetery and jumped over the fence, disappearing across the street and into a line of houses in a span of roughly ten seconds, they knew it was over.

Annie was the first to stop, digging her heel into the ground and letting herself slide to a halt. Meanwhile, Mikasa slowed down, but didn't stop until she came up to the fence itself. There, she rested a hand on one of the wrought-iron bars and stared out at where the vampire had disappeared.

"She was right," Annie said.

When Mikasa didn't say anything, the other slayer continued. "We weren't in sync. We should have decided on one fighting style before going after her."

"You were going to say something," Mikasa said, still not looking at Annie. "Before we went after her. You were going to say something. What was it?"

Annie didn't say anything.

Mikasa turned around to look at her. The other slayer seemed impassive for the most part, but the way she averted her gaze gave her the sense that she was second-guessing whatever she was going to say.

That wouldn't do. Enough mistakes had already been made today. If what the other slayer had to say might turn out to be useful...

"Annie?" Mikasa pressed.

"I was going to say that we shouldn't fight her tonight," Annie admitted. "I meant that we need a long-term plan if she really is that much stronger than other vampires."

Mikasa frowned. "She's the one who-"

"I know," Annie interrupted. "That's why I didn't say it."

Mikasa gazed back out at where the vampire had disappeared. It grated her to know that they had missed an opportunity to take care of Ymir, that she hadn't been able to swoop in and put her down like she usually did. She was also certain that doing nothing wouldn't have helped. But at the same time...

"We do need a plan," Mikasa acknowledged.

"We need to be on the same page the next time we see her," Annie said.

The same page. That meant the same tactic.

"Long-range combat is safer, but unless we can catch her off-guard, she might be too fast for it," Mikasa said, looking back at Annie. "Toward the end, I think she only slowed down to mess with us."

"But we were doing better," Annie pointed out.

Mikasa resisted the urge to look away again. "We were," she said.

"So if she approaches us again, we should both focus on close-range combat," Annie said.

Mikasa stared at her. There was something a little aggravating about the certainty with which she said it, the confident gleam in her eyes and the way she held her head high. She couldn't tell if Annie thought that Mikasa had made a mistake, but she was definitely confident that her method was the right one for the situation.

It was aggravating. It was challenging. It was also, as she stared at her, more than a little captivating.

There weren't many people who were able or willing to go toe to toe with her.

Pushing the unusual feeling down, Mikasa forced herself to do one of the most difficult things that she possibly could. 

"Alright," she conceded.

Annie gave a small nod before slowly turning around to head back into the graveyard.

They still had a long night ahead of them.

***

They encountered three more vampires over the course of the patrol; a busy night by Paradis standards. Unlike Ymir, the next two were dispatched quickly and easily.

By the time they killed the final vampire, it was almost a comfort to have Annie at her back.

***

Mikasa wouldn't say that she was in high spirits the next day. Such a thing was impossible. Despite the success of the patrol as they approached the end of the night, their failure to kill Ymir still weighed on her.

And yet...

And yet, for some unknowable reason, the world felt a little brighter.

That brightness was still lingering by the time her afternoon history class ended. It was the reason why when, instead of leaving, Sasha all but vaulted out of her chair and raced her way instead of just leaving, Mikasa didn't scramble to get out of the way to evade her.

She did, however, wonder at the excitement in the girl's eyes. There was nothing about Mikasa that felt like it should warrant that sort of look, yet there it was.

Moving at a rapid pace in a small classroom meant that Sasha very nearly careened into her and only caught herself at the last second.

"Jesus, Sasha!" Connie cried. He was still sitting in the seat next to Sasha's, but had maneuvered himself so that he was sitting backwards on the chair so that he could watch his friend. Despite his near-chastising tone, his expression held the glee of someone watching a trainwreck that was guaranteed to have no fatalities. An organized trainwreck. A monster truck rally.

Sasha didn't pay her friend any attention. Standing only inches away from Mikasa's face, she exclaimed, "Mikasa! Have you had lunch yet?"

Mikasa blinked. "No," she said. She usually skipped it.

"Great!" Sasha cried. "You're coming with me, then."

That was all the warning Mikasa got before Sasha hooked her arm in hers and started dragging her off. It would have been an easy matter to resist, but she hadn't brought her textbook with her and didn't have anything else to get before leaving the class, so it wasn't like she had any reason to write. More importantly, a combination of surprise and confusion was effectively preventing Mikasa from forming any higher thoughts for the time being. As such, she inadvertently submitted to being dragged around.

Connie stood up and trotted over to walk on her other side when they passed him. The movement pulled Mikasa out of her stupor somewhat, but Sasha still managed to get her out of the classroom and halfway down the hall before she could articulate anything. "I-"

"Don't bother," Connie cut her off, a playful grin on his face. "Sasha's made up her mind about something involving food. There's no stopping her now."

"Rude, Springer," Sasha said. "True, but rude."

"I'm just making sure Mikasa knows what your priorities lie."

Sasha let out a dramatic huff. Then, to Mikasa, she said, "We're meeting the boys in the food court. I thought bringing you would be a fun surprise!"

"The boys?" Mikasa asked.

"Jean, Marco, and Reiner," Sasha said.

"Oh," Mikasa said. "I didn't... know you all are friends."

She supposed it made sense. Reiner and Connie had been pretty friendly that time in Erwin's office, Jean seemed like he knew them, and Marco was friends with Jean. Connecting it all still made her head spin a little.

"Well, we're friends with Reiner and Marco," Sasha said. "Jean is more like..."

"A show horse?" Connie suggested.

"Exactly!" Sasha cried with a bright laugh.

"I see," Mikasa murmured.

So they all knew each other more than just in passing. They all liked each other - or at least got along despite a certain level of teasing. Again, it made sense. They were all socially outgoing. Meanwhile, Mikasa... well, she was outgoing. Social was another one.

And Sasha thought that bringing her over would be a pleasant surprise?

"Hey," Sasha said, her voice taking on a lower, softer tone. "You know that they all already like you, right?"

Mikasa blinked, a shred of surprise flickering across her face as she looked at Sasha. How on earth had she been able to read her so easily?

"It's true!" Sasha insisted, probably misunderstanding the reason for Mikasa's surprise. "We'd all like to get to know you more."

Ah. That made sense.

"Because I'm the slayer," Mikasa said.

"Because you don't get out enough and pretty much no one knows anything about you," Sasha countered.

That... was certainly a statement. Mikasa barely had a chance to process it before they had reached the entrance of the food court. There, as she continued eagerly tugging Mikasa along, Sasha nearly collided with her second person in less than ten minutes.

"Woah!" Krista exclaimed, taking a small, stumbling step away from the trio.

"Aah!" Sasha exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, Krista!" She held her hands up apologetically - both of them. Rather than simply letting go of Mikasa in order to do so, she interlocked her hand with hers and waved both of their arms about.

Krista shot them a warm smile. "Don't worry about it!" she said.

"Do you want to come to lunch with us?" Sasha asked.

"You're going to turn us into a caravan, aren't you," Connie muttered, but not without a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, no thank you," Krista said, voice polite and sweet as could be. "I need to get to class! Thank you for offering, though!"

With that, she turned around and hurried off down the hall. Mikasa turned her gaze back toward the food court, expecting that to be the end of it. However, her gaze wandered back to Sasha when she noticed that she was staring after Krista.

"You know," Sasha whispered, "Krista's one of the nicest people you can find, but I don't think she has many friends either."

Mikasa frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Everyone likes Krista." Even Mikasa knew that much. 'Krista Lenz' was a common name to hear around campus. She was humbly intelligent, exceedingly kind, and involved in many school activities. From what she'd heard, she was about as close to a perfect someone as someone could get.

"Yeah, but that's not the same thing as having friends," Sasha said. "I don't ever see her hanging out with anyone in her free time. It's... it's hard to explain, but it's... it's like..."

"Like you can't process the thought of an angel amongst us gluttons and fools?" Connie suggested.

Sasha let out a disgruntled squawk, and Mikasa found herself having to lean back to stay out of the way when Sasha leaned over to swat at him.

"I just think she could use more friends!" Sasha exclaimed.

"It's Krista," Connie said, laughing. "I'm sure she has plenty of friends. Now let's get going; I'm starving."

"And you call me a glutton," Sasha teased.

"You are," Connie said. "I'm only starving sometimes. You, on the other hand, are a bottomless pit."

"Sure, sure," Sasha said. "I see how it is." She sniffed, then finally released her grip on Mikasa's hand to re-link their arms.

"Come on, Mikasa," she said as he began to drag her along once again. "Let's not keep Connie from his feast ."

Mikasa felt the corners of her lips twitch upward. "Alright," she said.

As she smiled and listened to the pair of goofballs banter, she found that she felt a little lighter yet. It wasn't the same sort of odd warmth that she'd woken up feeling that morning, but it was... nice. That feeling only grew when Sasha succeeded in pulling her all the way to the table where her group sat and, despite all odds and expectations, they all seemed genuinely happy to see her.

That afternoon, as Mikasa listened to everyone's conversations and even contributed to them a little, a faint, dangerous thought crossed her mind.

She could get used to this.

***

It was a few hours before the sun would set, and Mikasa was back at her apartment, staring down at her phone and the scrap of paper laid down beside it. At the digits scrawled across it. 

She had been staring at them for longer than she would like to admit. 

"The worst thing she can do is say no," Eren pointed out. 

"I know," Mikasa murmured. 

And Annie wouldn't say no. She knew that much. The problem wasn't the possibility of rejection - it was the simple act of asking. 

"You're strong," Eren said. "But you're better when you're not alone."

Mikasa took a deep breath, and, despite the lightness that still lingered within her, refused to truly consider his words beyond their most surface meaning. The most important meaning. 

Working with Annie was the smartest thing to do. 

Carefully, she took her phone, put in the number, and sent a text. 

Mikasa: Patrol tonight? - M

Annie: Alright. 

Annie: We can train if you can come over early. 

Mikasa blinked. Something that straddled the line between apprehension and excitement rose up in her stomach. She pushed it down as she typed out her response. 

Mikasa: Sure

***

They only encountered two vampires that night. 

Between her and Annie, they were two of the easiest kills that Mikasa had ever made.

[isleofandroids]

Partners: Part Two (RK900 x Reader)

Fandom Detroit: Become Human

Word Count 1,873

Summary After being paired with the new addition to the DPD, you have to learn how to deal with the post-android events

PART ONE

Tags @x6-15 @sherlockspie @yallgotkik @avereality @riridmanngrl @jamiethenerdymonster @not-a-kat

—

The Detroit Police Department was buzzing with phone calls and randomized conversations between coworkers. Their voices filled the ears of the second deviant hunter as he sat at his desk, going through files to get himself refocused on the mission. The same whirring sensation from the day before was constantly in the back of the RK900’s software once he stepped into the building that morning and saw no sign of you. It was unlike his partner to show up late - possibly not at all - but even while the two of you worked cases together, he found your absence irrelevant to any investigations. Allowing himself to emit any worry for a human would conclude that he was having instability issues, and that couldn't happen.

However, he couldn't help but wonder. You were upset yesterday, which only grew to fury once he tried to get you to see reason. The situation was odd. The android had trouble calculating exactly what had happened, only coming to the conclusion that the shooting was the reason for your behavior. But why? The suspect ran away from its owners, evaded police, and refused to cooperate. It didn't plan on leaving with them, he could tell. Why couldn't you see that?

The attention of some employees were caught by a figure strolling in, sunglasses on and hands stuffed in the front pockets of their jacket. If it was possible, the android detective straightened his posture even more, adjusting his jacket. Blue orbs trailed your path as you took slow strides toward the desk across from the new recruit. He analyzed your current state - tired eyes, sluggish movement, posture more slouched than the times you held a sense of laziness when on desk duty. As a courtesy, he waited until you were seated to state his findings. “Your blood alcohol content is only .15 below the minimum intoxication level. You went back to the bar when we parted ways yesterday.”

You brought your index and middle finger together, sending the man a salute. “Bingo, Mr. Robot.”

Conner opened and closed his mouth several times as his LED flashed yellow, failing at computing a proper response. At the lack of comeback you raised an eyebrow, but only shrugged and occupied yourself quickly with recent case files. The RK900 continued to eye you, leaning over from his own space with arms crossed atop the surface. “I found a case on another missing android. Shall we head out after you're ready?”

It took a few minutes of papers shuffling and things being set down before you brought your gaze up to his, copying his action as you leaned in closer. Plastering a wry smile you asked, “Why? So you can shoot them before I get a real chance at getting them to cooperate?” You moved back into the computer chair and shook your head. “No thanks.”

The brunette tilted his head, possible ways of getting you to agree flitting through his system. Simply pulling you along wasn't going to do a thing unless he wanted more anger thrown his way. Stating the facts processed within his software the same way as before certainly would've been the wrong approach. If reasoning was going to be done, then it had to be with words that would get your cooperation and still have truth to them. “I will refrain from interfering with your choice of approach.” At your bored look, he added, “Doing so will only aid in a failed or delayed completion of the investigation. And I have no intentions of failing at all, Detective L/N.”

For a short moment all Conner received was a humming sound to ensure you were processing his words. Surely someone as determined as him wouldn't lie, especially when no matter how intelligent he was created to be, a human was still needed to empathize and make things easier when dealing with rogues. You sighed and nodded your head. Pushing the seat away from the desk, you stood up, grumbling about not even getting a chance to unwind. Your partner moved to follow, steps in sync with yours almost immediately. The walk to the car was quiet, the only exchange being when you asked him to give directions. Once the vehicle started down the road, it was all exactly that. There was no chatting about irrelevant things, teasing, or back and forth - just two people on their way to getting a job done.

Admittedly, the lack of conversation was beginning to weigh down. Usually, it wouldn't be a problem. However, the fact that nothing was happening because he upset her somehow didn't sit well with him. There were multiple subjects that could be brought up to most likely open the idea of starting a conversation. Each one more cliche than the last - weather, favorite things, pointless small talk. Was there nothing that would grab your attention? As he contemplated the current situation, his memory recalled the one and only time he'd been inside your apartment. Most of the information stored about your person were bits taken from what he saw and read. Your hobbies, where you liked to go, the places you traveled, some family members and friends. But the thing that stood out the most was your dog. A [breed] that was only a year old, but had an issue with one of its legs that day.

“Has it received medical attention?” You glanced over, confusion written all over your face. “Your dog. If my memory is correct, its front left leg was suffering from an unexplainable cause of injury.”

“Oh.” He hadn't been in your place for weeks now. “My dog is fine. She stayed overnight at a veterinary clinic - I've had her in some kind of physical therapy session since then.” Your fingers tapped against the steering wheel as you took a turn sharp turn. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

Conner nodded his head, eyes focused on the road as the remainder of the road instructions sat in the back of his mind. “We are partners, Detective. It proves to be more productive if we at least attempt at cooperating with one another.”

“Oh, is that why you would change the subject every time I tried to ask a personal question?” You asked condescendingly.

He took a few seconds to think about the response. “You try to see me as more than what I was made to be. What your kind deem hobbies or interests have no place in my creation. I have one goal and one initiative - to accomplish my mission in hunting and deactivating deviants. All other aspects that would make one human are of no use to me. Foremost, I am and will always be a machine.”

A newfound absence of sound arose during the time you mulled over his answer. You found it ridiculous how he constantly shut down the possibility that he could be or become as human as many other androids have. There were discrete differences in his behavior from when he first arrived to now. The way he addressed things, starting conversations unrelated to work or deviants, actually wanting to know about coworkers’ personal lives. So much already counted as a sign of software instability, but no matter how large the change seemed, you saw how he always managed to snap himself back into machine mode without doing the daily self assessment. Was it really such a horrible thing? Having free will and being able to fully express yourself? It was what everyone in America wanted and what most (including CyberLife’s technological beings) were able to have. It didn't help that Connor RK800 was already well into deviancy and expressing his emotions more when the newer model arrived. It just fueled the need to successfully complete the mission without letting anything disrupt his programming or focus. Including who he was assigned to work with (when push came to shove).

Conner, on the other hand, did in fact understand your underlying frustrations. After sensing the distinct change in your tone of voice each time those kind of moments occurred, he would take short time in assessing that you had hope in his transference. The reason was beyond what he was capable of guessing, and making assumptions only ever seemed to dim a talk into negative reactions and situations. The self assessments done each night after work were done to ensure he would not become one of those heathens, yet the same question always rose up when he spoke to Amanda.

“Have they succeeded?”

“Of course not.” He always said, completely aware of who the woman spoke of. “No one has been or will be able to corrupt my programming. I am confident that I will complete my mission without system disruption.”

Yet here he was. In the car with someone who made his wires and gears work the wrong way. Someone who would immediately question his being a machine from a simple comment, ask or action. Someone who just the day before caused his insides to whir around in a way that made him shut down in confusion - even if only for a few seconds.

Suddenly their tires came to a halt, and the brunette's head turned to look out the window. A large warehouse loomed over the car, light clouds fading away the darker the sky became as afternoon turned into evening. Windows were broken and doors were boarded shut. Trees and shrubs covered the surrounding area, puddles remained in the gravel from the previous storm, and most of the building's paint was chipped off or covered in graffiti.

“Well,” You clicked your tongue, “this looks like a fun place.” You muttered sarcastically, turning off the engine and opening the door. Noticing the lack of movement from the other figure, you bent down to look at him. “Are you coming or not?”

“I am.” Without much else than a slight nod, you shrugged and closed the door. As you went around the vehicle to start toward the entrance for the seemingly abandoned location, the 900 model glanced about the small leather space. Once the needed item was found somewhere in the backseat, he grabbed it and followed, again catching up and synchronizing his steps with yours. A hand held something out in front as you walked, and you glanced down to find a water bottle, raising an eyebrow at the object. “The blood alcohol content in your system has only decreased another .05 as your body broke away the liquor when you drove. However, your kidneys hold five percent of any consumption. Drinking enough water will assist in detoxifying your blood and prevent possible dehydration later on in the day.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but discovered nothing was going to be spoken from the amount of surprise the gesture gave. You cleared your throat, taking the bottle and unscrewing the cap before immediately chugging down a third of the clear liquid. Glancing up at the man, you screwed the plastic top back on. “Thank you.” You uttered, taking a quicker pace and continuing to survey the building and surrounding area.

Taken back by the two words he never heard leave your lips - at least not in his direction - his steps ceased. There was a beat of a pause as he watched you near a corner of the warehouse. “You're welcome, Detective L/N.”

“And stop being so formal. It's weird.” He heard you mutter.

His arms went behind his back, hands folded together neatly as he got back into matching your rhythm. “Yes, Y/N.”

Software Instability ^

[deanscarlett]

Living Conditions

For Mimi’s RomCom Fluff challenge @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog , and Andi’s “Back in the Game” writing challenge @ellen-reincarnated1967 .

Author: Salvachester

Prompts: #29 from Failure to Launch (Mimi’s) and #21 (Andi’s) 

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam (small appearance)

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, sexual situations (not very explicit), alcohol use, hardcore pining, mentions of masturbation, misunderstandings, awkward situations, angsty situations (plot device), fluff, humor.

Word Count: 6040 words

A/N: Thanks to my lovely gals Kayte @kayteonline and Sammit @sammit-janet for betaing it. The prompts appear in bold (in order of appearance, Andi’s, then Mimi’s). This is my first fic after all the Vancon madness began (like, May?), it took me a while to get my muse back in the game, but it’s finally here. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3

Dean Gif credit: thejabberwock - Smallville Gif credit: haleyjames

Lots of people tagged under the cut :D (you can add/remove yourself from the list here)

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

Your last name: submit What is this? (Experimental, may not work) document.getElementById("submit2").addEventListener('click', function(){ var s = escapeRegExp('Y/L/N'); 'Y/L/N' var val = new RegExp(s, "ig"); walk(document.body, val, document.getElementById("inputTxt2").value); }); function escapeRegExp(str) { return str.replace(/[\-\[\]\/\{\}\(\)\*\+\?\.\\\^\$\|]/g, "\\$&"); }

Your nickname: submit What is this? (Experimental, may not work) document.getElementById("submit3").addEventListener('click', function(){ var s = escapeRegExp('Y/NN'); 'Y/NN' var val = new RegExp(s, "ig"); walk(document.body, val, document.getElementById("inputTxt3").value); }); function escapeRegExp(str) { return str.replace(/[\-\[\]\/\{\}\(\)\*\+\?\.\\\^\$\|]/g, "\\$&"); }

Friendship is never easy. Especially when your friend is the bravest, most handsome and loyal man you’ve ever met, and you happen to live under the same roof.

Being a hunter is no walk in the park, everybody knows that, but some people can handle it better than others. Take Y/N Y/L/N, for instance; girl grew up in the life, always felt normal with being a hunter. Never formed meaningful attachments, a hook-up here and there, and she was ready to roll out of town looking for the next job.

That is, until she met the Winchesters. Or rather, until she met Dean.

Y/N wasn’t a fan of sharing a job with other hunters, she considered herself a solo player. If she fucked up, it was her own fault and she could deal with it and learn her lesson. But if someone else fucked up… Oh boy, be ready to run because she could get nasty.

Now, the hunt she and the boys ran into each other was a simple salt and burn; no hiccups there. Sure, Dean had thrown a few flirty glances her way, but she merely brushed them off. Another rule of hunting… don’t get involved with a fellow hunter, even if it’s just a fuck to let off some steam. You never know when you might run into them again and have an awkward moment.

Of course, she would be lying through her teeth if she told you she didn’t consider the possibility of having one wild night with the eldest Winchester; because DAMN, that man was built for sin. And given her selection of men… Yeah, Dean definitely fit the profile down to the letter.

The next hunt she ran into them was a little more complicated: vampires’ nest with at least ten fanged motherfuckers keeping people as some sort of morbid pantry. Now, there were a couple of fuckups here and there, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. Y/N got kinda pissy at Dean for setting himself as bait and almost getting himself killed, but she didn’t make a big deal out of it. The hunt ended in success, and that’s what really mattered.

Now Dean, she noticed, had been shamelessly eyeing her at the bar while the three were having a small celebration for a job well done; and same as last time, she ignored him. Y/N ended up sleeping with some biker that was the spitting image of Zack Wylde. Couldn’t say no to that, could she? Of course, she would later on regret the choice ‘cause the dude was one selfish dick that didn’t bother giving her one proper orgasm. Asshole.

And, of course, Dean ended up taking that tall, busty blonde back to his room. Now that one definitely had a night she would never forget, if her moans and screams coming from his room were any indication.

Oh well, better luck next time, Y/N.

After that, the Winchesters and her kept in touch, mostly to exchange info, or to drop some line about some job close to either party; and eventually they started working together. As their friendship progressed, she couldn’t help feeling curious about Dean. Watching him pick up women using terrible lines and see it work like a charm was like watching some documentary about wildlife mating in the Discovery Channel; disturbing, entertaining, and highly addictive. Sure as hell he had charm. And looks, let’s not forget those looks.

But even when Dean kept making merry sport out of banging every hottie in a five-mile radius, he would, from time to time, send some flirty comment her way.

Whether he was serious or merely jesting, Y/N couldn’t tell; but a part of her kept having all these what-ifs popping in her brain and wouldn’t leave her the fuck alone. She wasted no time burying those musings deep, deep down where she kept all her dark secrets and dreams.

Remember when I told you a hunter’s life is no walk in the park? Well, here’s where things get complicated…

You see, when you’re a hunter and you don’t move around, like ever -or don't live in a safe, warded bunker, like the Winchesters- monsters definitely find you. Yeah, yeah, she should have known better, trust me, she knows that, but the little cabin she lived at was her family’s, so it held a whole lot of sentimental value.

Homeless and heartbroken at the loss of her home and possessions after the arson, Y/N couldn’t refuse Sam and Dean’s offer to move in with them. Af first, it was supposed to be temporary until she found a place of her own. But as we know, things don’t always turn out the way we expect or want…

“You know, I think I’m definitely gonna borrow one of these, or all,” Dean inspects her vinyl collection, an amused smile on his face ‘cause he knows she’s gonna tell him to go fuck himself, or some other colorful insult. She doesn’t mean it, of course, it’s just the way they interact and joke around.

“You do that and you lose your hands, or your dick,” Y/N retorts with a glare that is so fake you have to wonder how the hell she pulls off all the lies she has to say in the name of hunting.

Dean instantly leaves the record, Rolling Stones’ Sticky Fingers -yes, there’s some irony there, I know- back where it belongs, and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Ouch, no need to get nasty, sweetheart.” He can’t stop grinning when he sees her loosen up and burst into laughter.

It’s weird for him to have a girl living in the bunker. It’s nice for sure, because in an attempt to earn her keep, she always cooks for them, or helps with the chores without a peep. Not that he wants Y/N to be their maid, oh no, that is not what this is about; he just loves having homey, succulent and yummy meals on a daily basis. In a way, it makes him feel taken care of, and he could definitely get used to that.

And of course, what’s the downside of having a hot chick rooming up with you?

Well, as you can guess, the downside is she doesn’t seem to want anything to do with him, and Dean is starting to figure that out. Which it sucks, really, because he’s already having lusty thoughts, and harboring one hell of a massive crush on her -courtesy of her caretaking and cooking skills- and there’s no turning back. So he does what he does best; he puts on the proverbial mask and acts as if there’s nothing going on.

Seriously, Dean, could you be more obvious? Dude, if you keep tilting your head like that and stare at her like she’s the biggest, yummiest piece of pie, she’s gonna fucking notice and run off in the opposite direction. Calm down, please.

The first few months go by without any trouble; if you don’t count Dean having to see Y/N’s underwear in the laundry room. It piques his curiosity and has his brain running all sorts of imagery, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Okay, maybe a quick release in the shower from time to time.

He definitely enjoys her company, even more when they are side by side in the couch binge watching all six Star Wars, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, or Die Hard I and II. The fact that she mouths a great deal of the dialogues makes Dean’s attraction grow stronger and stronger.

Now, the tough moments are when either of them need stitches or patching up, and having to touch her skin -or the other way round- has his mind reeling with another kind of want. It’s just so nice having someone taking care of you that you can’t help wanting more. And Dean definitely wants more. But what’s he gonna do? As far as he is concerned, the girl’s not interested, so he settles with just musing.

Sigh, Dean, if only you knew Y/N, deep down, has the same train of thoughts. Hang in there, kitten, it’s almost Friday.

So far, Y/N is hiding her itty bitty crush rather well. Dean, on the other hand, is not doing so hot.

I mean, Dean is doing his best to keep it a harmless crush. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. But, when you’re fucking that waitress -Rachel? Raquel? I don’t even know- into the mattress and you call out the name of your ‘harmless crush’, you definitely gotta reconsider the label. And run like the fucking devil before that flying, pointy heel impales your occipital lobe.

Neither Sam, nor Y/N know the actual truth about that fiasco. As far as they know, that chick was all kinds of crazy.

Very classy, Dean, let’s blame the waitress on your fuckup.

Y/N, on the other hand, keeps her normal pattern of sleeping with bikers and metalheads. Of course, nobody knows she’s doing it to keep Mr Sexy-As-Fuck Winchester out of her mind. Which works. Kinda.

I mean, how much more of this can you stand when each hook up feels shittier and shittier and all you really want is to hold on to someone -cough, Dean, cough- and never let go? Girl, open your fucking eyes already and admit you want him!

But nope, she refuses to admit it. What’s the point? Getting all hyped up and shot down? No fucking thank you.

If you think this is the cusp of all this complication, you’re in for a rude awakening.

Enter the truly awkward and embarrassing situations.

Everybody in the circle knows that Garth is not the sharpest tool in the shed, for sure he’s cool and all, but the guy can turn a simple hunt into a clusterfuck, so when he calls for help, nobody is really surprised.

After sorting out who’s gonna come to his aid -yes, you guessed right, rock papers scissors; how else were they gonna decide?- Sam heads out to New Jersey to help the hapless hunter; leaving Dean and Y/N to deal with a job in Louisiana.

Y/N is not a big fan of Sam borrowing her car, but she has no choice. Have you met Dean? Yeah, try and pry Baby out of his hands. Go ahead, try.

So this leaves Dean and Y/N working alone. Oh boy, this should be interesting…

The drive to Louisiana is smooth, they mostly discuss the case and their theories about what monsters they’ll be encountering; all very professional. Too professional if you ask me; it’s like they are trying to avoid loosening up and truly enjoy each other’s company.

To Dean’s dismay, Y/N gets a room for herself. Yeah, what were you expecting, dude? But look at the bright side, you can get off at your own leisure.

Every hunter knows dealing with ghouls can be fucking disgusting, believe me, so when they are done with them, Y/N is covered in various icky fluids and she just can’t wait to get a shower and go back to smelling like a daisy. It’s all nice and dandy, except for the pipes breaking on her, getting her all covered in muddy water. Yuck.

As the cunning little hunter she is, she lockpicks Dean’s room to use his shower while he’s out crossing some t’s and dotting some i’s with the local authorities. He should be away for a good while, right?

Guess again, my friend…

So as she’s done showering and about to put on her clothes, she doesn’t hear Dean opening the front door.

Dean, cautious as he is, draws his gun the moment he hears noises in his bathroom and storms in.

Now, let me tell you something about Y/N; the woman can see a three-headed monster and she’s not gonna make a noise; but a gorgeous hunter pointing a gun at her naked self? Oh yeah, expect yelling and screams. Not right away, just give her brain some time to react.

If you pay attention, you can actually hear Dean’s jaw hit the floor; opposite to him, Y/N is frozen in place, stark nude and holding her hairbrush like a deadly weapon aimed at him. It’s almost adorable.

While Dean is trying to keep his cool and not make an idiot out of himself -because let’s face it, his dick is screaming at him and wants to take charge of all the thinking- Y/N’s brain is just catching up with the situation.

“What are you doing he-”

Dean doesn’t get to finish his question because Y/N is screaming and yelling and hurling a variety of non-lethal objects at him. The endless string of ‘get out’s’ can surely be heard in the next town.

See? I told you she would scream.

As Dean runs out of the bathroom, ducking the projectiles, he closes the door and sits on his bed in a futile attempt to calm his brain and his happy dick. He can still hear her huffing and grunting in anger and frustration.

He just saw Y/N totally and utterly naked. Definitely one hell of a glorious view. Yup, that’s gonna get a top place in the shelf of his memories. Half an hour passes and she isn’t out yet; he doesn’t worry though because he knows she’s embarrassed and bracing herself to face him.

When she finally emerges, Dean’s blood freezes at the murderous look she throws his way.

“Why are you glaring at me?” He asks as if nothing’s just happened. Oh Dean, either you are too adorable, or one provocative little shit. I’ll wager both.

“I’m hoping you’ll spontaneously combust.”

Uh oh, run, Dean, run!

“Why?”

Really, Dean? You gonna poke that bear? Do you wanna put your head in a hornet's hive while we are at it?

“Why? Are you seriously asking me WHY?! You’ve just barged in while I was in the bathroom, don’t you ever knock?”

Now now, Y/N, don’t act so offended, we all know it didn’t really bother you that Dean saw you in your birthday suit. And do I need to remind you whose room it is?

Dean’s little happy moment is blown away by her words and instantly stands his ground. “I should ask you the same question, sweetheart, given this is my room. Now, calm down.”

Seriously, dude, stop poking the bear. Calling her ‘sweetheart’ and telling her to calm down right this moment is not gonna do you any good.

“You just saw me naked, I don’t care if it’s your room. You just. Saw me. Naked. I cannot fucking calm down!”

Yes, Y/N, keep spelling it out for him, it’s not like Dean’s brain is back to putting that scene on repeat. Oh wait, it is.

“How the fuck was I to know you were in my bathroom?” He’s right, nobody can argue with that.

So now that her anger is fading and she’s finally realizing he’s right, Y/N explains the incident with her shower, tucks her tail between her legs and returns to her room to pack.

Thank god the hunt is done; a few more hours and she’ll be able to hide in her room until hell freezes over.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the ride back home is quiet, save for the loud music playing non stop, and, you can imagine, they avoid any sort of eye contact as much as they can.

Awkward...

Sam frowns in confusion when Y/N runs past him in the library barely uttering a ‘hello’ to him; and as soon as he hears her door slam shut, he faces Dean, who merely shrugs at his brother’s silent question.

It takes a couple of days before Y/N spills the beans about the bathroom incident; and Sam can’t stop laughing when she starts calling Dean a peeping tom.

Now that we are on the subject of Sam, let me tell you that he has no fucking clue about Y/N’s ever growing crush on his brother; but Sam is very much aware of Dean’s, but since his big brother never mentioned anything, he’s just gonna mind his own business and let him be. Dean is a grown man, he doesn’t need -or want- relationship advice. If Dean asks, Sam will gladly help.

Going back to the bathroom incident, Y/N was so frozen in that moment that she didn’t register the glint in Dean’s eyes nor his growing bulge, for that matter. As far as she knows, Dean was unaffected by her naked body, and that surely stings.

Oh, honey, if only you knew how wrong you are… You can bet your ass Dean spends several minutes in the shower reliving that moment.

After this debacle, their relationship shifts a little and they don’t tease each other as much as they used to; they both feel it, and it fucking sucks.

Y/N reached the point where she admitted it to herself how she feels about Dean. Fucking finally, girl! But she’s still under the wrong assumption that Dean is not interested in her; and about a month ago, she decided to not hook up with random guys anymore.

It’s just so taxing to sleep with below average men when your mind, heart and body only want that one perfect specimen. As they say, better alone than in bad company. But of course the lack of release and human contact is making her cranky. Lately, she snaps at him over the littlest things.

Dean also dropped his number of conquests, but for an entire different reason. How many times are you gonna say the wrong name in bed before realizing you've got a problem? I’m sure that knee in the jewels was a fucking sign.

Now, before we get to the next part, let me tell you that Sam has the best timing ever -or worst, depending on how you see it- for random hookups that take him five states away. Or maybe he’s just so damn tired of the cold vibes and petty arguments between Y/N and his brother that he makes up the lamest excuses to get out of dodge.

Seeing as Sam is gone -nobody knows for how long- and that it leaves her alone with Dean, Y/N decides one more try in the hookup department, so she heads for the nearest bar she can find.

Dean, on the other hand, stays in and hits the bottle because what else there is to do? His crush on Y/N evolved into something much stronger and he already lost any hope. And the fact she’s out there getting laid with some douchebag does nothing but add shit to the pile of misery.

Yeah, it breaks your heart to see him so hopeless. Poor Dean.

But here’s what Dean doesn’t know: Y/N’s plan is failing miserably, not for the lack of candidates, but because she shoots down every single one of them, even the good ones. Instead, she hits the bottle as well, and fuels her own pity party.

Much like Dean, she feels nothing’s ever gonna happen between them, and it hurts to her very soul. Just because she never had a meaningful relationship doesn’t mean she was never in love. She was, twice, but never really took a chance. But with Dean, she was ready to take that plunge, if only he ever shown some interest in her other than platonic.

Yes, she remembers Dean flirting with her in the early days, but as far as she’s concerned, that was Dean just being Dean: a playful guy that loves getting in every girl’s pants.

She finally gives up at the bar and drives home. Reckless as fuck, if you ask me, seeing that she’s kinda drunk, but she makes it home safely, thank god.

As we know, alcohol drops inhibitions and filters, so it’s no surprise that Dean, who is also half drunk, makes a not-so-tactful remark about Y/N striking out at the bar. Part of his brain realizes it and sends the necessary warnings, so Dean is ready and expecting to be clocked in the jaw when he sees her lunging at him; and in all honesty, he reckons he deserves it, so he closes his eyes and waits for the shit to hit the fan.

Instead of feeling her fist collide into his jaw, he feels her lips ravaging his own.

Oh my… Yeah, he definitely didn’t expect that.

He doesn’t question her -why would he?!- he just rolls with it and enjoys the moment.

Now, before you start worrying about alcohol and sex, they aren’t as drunk as to not realize what’s going on, they are very much aware, trust me. Besides, you know how much they’ve been pining after each other.

So, back to the moment at hand… They waste no time tearing each other’s clothes and bumping into walls on their way to his bedroom. Dean is on cloud nine and completely ignoring that nagging feeling in his gut that tells him this is just another hookup for her. And, as you can guess, Y/N is thinking the same.

Guys, you really are two peas in a pod. It’s getting frustrating.

As you might recall -how could you not- Dean’s already seen her naked, so there’s nothing new, except that now he can touch; and, oh boy, does he touch.

Now, Y/N, on the other hand, is seeing him for the first time, and oh god almighty, does she like what she sees. Far back in her mind, her brain makes a small Star Wars reference -‘Look at the size of that thing’- the moment she sees his dick.

If she wasn’t so caught up in the moment, she’d probably giggle at her own silly joke.

Every fantasy she ever had about Dean doesn’t do any justice to the real thing; it’s not just that he’s well endowed and with a body that is borderline perfect, or that she’s spent months idealizing him. No, he actually is that good; and attentive and thorough. She’s honestly mind blown when he makes her come just with his fingers and tongue. Like, the guy is so busy eating her out that Y/N has no doubt he’s seriously enjoying it.

I don’t think she can name one guy who made her come like this, or made it all about her.

Which brings us to the next moment…

In the afterglow of her own bliss, she attempts to return the favor, but Dean cuts her short, mumbling something about not being able to last and wanting to be inside.

Wow… Did he seriously just turn down a blowjob so he could come inside of her and not disappoint her? Is he for real? Is it the same with every other girl? Where has he been all her life?

Okay, enough with the questions, Y/N, get your mind back in that bed.

The act itself can only be described as intense; for the most part, they were quiet in the sense of barely no talking, but yes, you can bet they were very loud.

Whether for the exertion, the alcohol, or finally getting into each other’s pants -probably all three- they fall asleep rather fast. In addition, there’s that bliss that fills the both of them; but that one is short-lived.

You see, when Y/N wakes up, long before Dean does, she feels this sense of regret. Not because she’s changing her mind about wanting to sleep with him, but because this one shared moment changes her whole perspective. More than ever, she realizes how much she loves Dean and how much she wants to be with him for as long as they live. But here’s the thing: she still believes this is just another meaningless encounter for him. She over-analyzes the situation and reaches the conclusion he was probably just bored. Which, as you know, it’s not the case.

But she doesn’t know that, nor she remembers the sweet kisses Dean kept giving her all night -blame the alcohol, of course- so the first thing she does is sneak out of his bed.

When Dean wakes up, foggy minded and ready to spoon the fuck out of her, and sees she’s gone, he feels this tight knot in his chest that prompts his brain to shout ‘I told you to not get close, you idiot’ over and over again.

Painful, eh?

Well, it gets worse, let me tell you; because when they run into each other in the kitchen, and Dean is slightly considering bringing up the subject and try to figure her out and hint his interest in her -because that one tiny part of him is still hopeful there’s something more between them- she blows his world to kingdom come.

“Listen, that was fun and all, but let’s not do that again. We are good friends, let’s not ruin it, okay?”

If you listen closely, you can hear his heart breaking. Talk about a surgical, preemptive strike.

You gotta hand it to Y/N, though, she has mastered the Dean Winchester playbook down to the letter; because that’s exactly the type of move he does when he’s into a girl and he doesn’t wanna get hurt. Hurt ‘em before they hurt you.

Of course, for all his brilliance and genius, it’s in moments like this when his brain stops cooperating. Instead of analyzing the situation and look for telltale signs that she’s lying -and believe me, the signs are there and glowing like a fucking neon sign on a strip club- he takes her statement at face value and agrees.

In his own misery, he doesn’t notice the pain in her eyes.

After that, everything goes downhill.

Y/N decides it’s time to go, so she finds a new cabin and moves out a month after sleeping with Dean.

In case you are wondering, Sam has no clue that they slept together, so it takes him by surprise when she drops the news. Of course, one look at his brooding brother cues him that something must have happened.

At first, Dean beats around the bushes, making up excuses about missing her food -which is true, but not the main reason why he looks like someone shot his puppy. Sam, of course, doesn’t buy it, so he brings up Dean’s crush.

To Sam’s surprise, Dean doesn’t even bother lying about it, and eventually clues him in about that one fateful night.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Sam offers. He certainly would like to help more, but what else can he say? He’s not gonna go around playing Cupid to a pair of grownups. It would not only be weird, but also disrespectful of her choices, so if Y/N isn’t into his brother, there’s nothing he can do.

Damn it, Sam, you are as blind as your brother.

Meanwhile, in a little cabin in Montana, Y/N does her own share of brooding. She loads herself with cases to keep her mind off Dean; she goes out of her way to make sure to not run into them while on a job.

Of course, Sam calls and texts her from time to time, and it’s the single-word replies that make him wonder if they both were mistaken about her not wanting Dean. Why else would she part ways like that, right? But no matter how many times Sam explains it to him, Dean thinks his brother is reaching and seeing things that aren’t there.

You should listen to your brother, Dean.

Now, Y/N is reaching that point where anger and pain are ruling over her; she kicks herself for falling for him, she blames herself for being so damn weak. She works, she listens to power ballads until her ears bleed, she drinks, she cries herself to sleep. Rinse and repeat times infinity. Yeah… she’s doing awesome.

The woman literally became a ticking time bomb, every tiny little thing sets her off. So you can imagine her reaction when she runs into the brothers while working a case in Dallas.

Dean is taken aback, but he acts like nothing is happening. Bullshit, all his feelings are overwhelming him and feels like he’s dying inside.

Back in her motel room, Y/N is spiraling out of control, she hurls stuff all over the place. Yes, you guessed right, she’s had a few whiskeys so she’s not exactly thinking clearly. Which is why she storms out of her room to find Dean and tell him a piece of her mind.

I don’t know about you, but I’m honestly scared for him.

Dean frowns in confusion and draws his gun when the incessant pounding on the door starts. When he sees her through the peephole, he is both relieved and sad. Placing his gun back in its holster, he opens the door and readies himself to face Hurricane Y/N.

Like, she’s in such a furious state that she doesn’t even let Dean ask her to come in, she just storms in past him and takes the stage.

“You are an asshole, you know?”

Well, here we go…

“You are a fucking asshole,” she repeats, all red eyed and shaking.

Dean doesn’t like her tone one bit. “Excuse me? What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?”

“You! You are my problem, you ruined my life! You destroyed it, you jackass!” She’s pointing her finger at him and you almost gotta wonder if she’s gonna shoot some death ray from it. That’s how mad she is.

“Me? What did I ever do to you?” Poor Dean, he is so damn confused.

“Showing up in my life, for starters! I was fine being alone... being on my own, and then you show up. I lose my home, and I don’t have anywhere to go, and you guys take me in, and everything was so perfect and nice and then I lost it all!”

Dean has to blink several times, because he can’t possibly understand what she’s getting at with all that verbal diarrhea.

“And believe me, I did not want that because I had a good life before you. Well, not good… but… it was okay. Well, it… it was empty, actually, but at least I was blissfully unaware of how miserable I was. Whereas now… because of you… I am acutely aware of how completely and totally unhappy I am. Thank you for that.”

Dean tries to interject a word, but Y/N raises her index finger, glaring at him. “I’m not done venting!”

Yup, we can tell, honey. Go on, let it all out.

“I can’t even get properly laid, thanks to you!”

Now Dean’s confusion and anger matches her own. “Me? Why the fuck are you blaming me?! You are crazy!”

“Why? I’ll tell you why,” Y/N’s hands go to her hips, she drops her tone several registers, and starts impersonating Dean.

Yup, you heard that right.

“Hi, I’m Dean Winchester, I’m the most badass, sexiest motherfucker in town. I can be the sweetest asshole you’ve ever met. I’m gonna blind you with my perfect smile, my penetrating eyes and my perfect body, I’m gonna rock your world, be the best sex you’ve ever had to the point of ruining you for all other men. I’m gonna make you fall for me and then break your heart and move on to the next bitch in no time, ‘cause I'm that awesome.”

If it wasn't for the extreme hurt in her eyes, I’d probably be rolling on the floor, laughing.

Dean is offended at the impersonation, he’s so fucking furious that it takes him several seconds to register the ‘fall for’ and ‘break your heart’ parts; and when he finally does register it, he starts laughing.

Yes, he’s actually laughing, full-body-shaking kind of laughter. And as you can guess, Y/N is about to go postal on him, she doesn’t realize he is laughing not to mock her, but because he’s relieved.

Before she has a chance to lunge at him, he starts connecting the dots out loud. “Are you telling me, all this time, you actually were into me? But you told me you didn’t want anything to happen between us?” Okay, Dean, hurry the fuck up before she hurts you.

“Yes! But why bother telling you, Mr Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em? I had to make my move first, before you had a chance to ditch me.” She’s sobbing so badly you can’t help feeling sorry for her. “You ruined me, Dean.”

Seeing as she’s obviously gonna keep ranting, and not gonna let him get a word in, Dean does what he must to shut her up, and hopefully, calm her down too.

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her. Desperately and passionately. And it works, because when Y/N calms down a bit, she breaks the kiss with a loud gasp and stares questioningly into his gorgeous eyes; and Dean can finally speak.

“You had it all wrong, Y/NN, we had it all wrong. I’ve been crazy about you for a while, but figured you only wanted to be friends, so I didn’t say anything, and then that happened, and well, you made your intentions pretty clear.”

Remember when Y/N was frozen in the bathroom? Well, it’s the exact same situation, except she’s not naked at the moment. She stands there, thinking, until she bursts into hysterical laughter.

Peas in a pod, definitely.

“All this time I was fucking suffering in vain?” She keeps laughing, but now she’s throwing her arms around Dean’s waist. “And you were suffering too?”

Dean offers a smile in return; and she starts laughing even harder. “We are fucking idiots!”

Yes, guys, you fucking are.

And now Dean is laughing too, but soon he dives back in and kisses her again. This time is more deliberate, they take their time, they smile into the kiss. It’s all very cute and sweet until everything else kicks in and, as you can guess, they start peeling each other’s clothes and getting in bed.

This time, Dean takes all the time in the world and teases her; and she totally loves it. He’s so dedicated, so thorough, so sweet, so… perfect. She loves that he takes mental notes of what makes her tick, she loves that he makes her his priority. She simply loves him.

Dean is equally happy and making sure she gets the most pleasure out of it; he loves exploring her body, he loves her moans, he loves everything about her, even her temper tantrums.

He’s definitely a keeper, that one.

Happy and blissful, they lie in each other’s arms; neither can still believe this is actually, properly, happening.

I gotta tell you, it totally makes your heart swell the way Dean smiles as he watches her talk. Boy has some serious heart eyes going on there.

And if you thought the awkward situations ended… Wrong again; because as they are about to start round two…

Three, two, one, enter Sam.

“Oh, come on, guys! You could at least put the damn ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door!”

You gotta wonder how many times he walked in on his brother and some girl in their motel room. Too many, probably.

Despite his annoyance at the lack of warning, he smiles to himself as he leaves and sends a quick text for Dean to read later.

See? I told you! I’m glad you guys worked it out.

It’s been two months since that afternoon, and Dean is back to having his daily succulent meals. Everything is back to normal, everything is the way it was before their fallout. Well, not everything is the same…

Now Y/N has moved into his bedroom and neither feels miserable anymore.

Being a hunter is no walk in the park, everybody knows that, but having the right person in your life can definitely make things easier and brighter in a world full of darkness.

Tags list (if you wanna be added/removed, check the link after Dean’s gif): 

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[littlewatty]

Here you go. ♗: One falling asleep with their head in the other's lap.

I’ve been wanting to do this one for ages. You finally gave me an excuse to! :D large pic to go along with it, courtesy of @mmmerchedesi. Also tagging @vorchagirl because she was eager to see this one completed!

AO3 link

If there was one thing that Kadara did better than any other planet in Heleus, it was its sunsets. Eos had been a contender with its radiation soaked atmosphere, but since the vault had cleared the skies, the colors had been tamed. Here, though, there was no radiation to tint the clouds or color the sky any shade of red, yellow, purple, or somewhere in between. It was the most beautiful thing in Andromeda. Well… almost.

“S’ Reyes…” Kitt slurred as she leaned heavily against his side, watching the Kadaran sunset from the rooftops at his side. “I still don’t know much of anything ‘bout you… but’m pretty sure you know everything about me… Keepin’ secrets?”

The comment made a laugh stutter out of him. There was a tightness in his chest that he wanted to ignore, the pain of so many truths wanting to burst out and spill all, and the agony of the chains that held them in place. Now was not the time for her to know. The kiss they had shared nearly unlocked every encrypted thought, but he was not ready. Nor was she. “Everybody has secrets, Ryder. Even you.”

“Psshhh.” The whiskey was apparently going to her head much faster than his own. She’d kill him for calling her a lightweight later. “Doubt it!”

“Alright, Ryder...” he swirled the mostly empty bottle of Mount Milgrom around before pulling a hit. “How about we play a game. You tell me things about yourself, and I’ll stop you if it’s something I haven't heard. In return, I’ll tell you some things about my life before the Initiative.” A cheap trick to play on a poor drunk woman, but he was also curious. There were only so many things in personnel files.

Kitt stole back the bottle to take her own drink, slamming it firm down on the shipping crate they were seated on. “Deal. I got arrested by C-Sec about a dozen times before my family left to live with Mom on Earth.” Silence. “I knew Garrus Vakarian! Briefly… Really? Argh. I always loved archaeology, but Dad always corrected me to say I liked ‘paleontology’ until I actually got into real archaeology. Seriously?!” The frown on her lips worked its way up her face, wrinkling her nose and creasing her eyebrows. “How d’you know this stuff?”

“As you are always so keen to remind me, gathering information is what I do best, Ryder. Go on, keep going.”

With a loud groan, she pulled off her jacket and threw it into a pile between them. Another shot of whiskey and she seemed raring to go again. “My Dad created SAM behind the Alliance’s back and it got him disbarred--”

“That’s cheating, Ryder. And, yes, I already knew that.” Reyes almost laughed when she bounced in frustration. That only seemed to make her more frustrated, and she was talking faster, even as her cheeks grew redder from the alcohol.

A yawn tried to fight its way past her words, but she stifled it down. “I crashed the Nomad the first time I used it because I mixed the pedals up. My middle name is Rachel. I picked a military outpost even though I knew it was a mistake, almost got shot on Aya for using my scanner, I insulted the Archon - twice. Drunkenly tried to kiss Keri. I lied to my brother about Dad being dead and Habitat 7.”

Reyes couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ryder. All of that is in official Nexus documentation - except that part about the reporter. That… I heard about through other channels.”

“Argh!! Uuuhm, I was forced out of my platoon and lost all my friends because of the Initiative. I was born a biotic but my brother wasn’t. I’m a minute older than him. I almost punched Cora. Also almost punched Peebee. Then I had sex with her - bad idea. Uuuuhhmmm?” Kitt rubbed her nose trying to think, while he simply watched, eyes glowing with amusement. All she really had to say was one personal thing from back before the Initiative, but she wasn’t thinking about it, or she didn’t want to. Something they maybe shared in common. Or, perhaps, it was that haze of sleep in her eyes that was slowing her down.

“Come on, Ryder, surely you can do better?” he teased.

She slumped against his shoulder, taking a long drink before handing the bottle back to him, face flushed and eyelids heavy. “I dunno anymore…” she mumbled. “You know everything…”

“Ha ha, if only it were so easy as that. It would make my work so much simpler. Are you sure you’ve tried everything, Ryder?” She drearily nodded her head. Apparently she was a sleepy drunk. When she started to slouch her weight on him even more, it was easy enough to guide her head down to rest in his lap. Kitt voiced no complaints.

“Well...” she drolled, closing her eyes, “there is this one thing.”

“Yes?”

“I thought you were cute the first time I saw you,” she hummed her words, a smile gracing her lips. “Very kissable.”

Those words lingered in his ears just long enough to make a heat rise in his chest; even his face felt warmer than usual. This woman, a Pathfinder no less, allied with the Initiative that betrayed all the exiles on Kadara, was worming her way into his body and mind.

That kiss in the storage room was supposed to be innocent, no ulterior motives beyond the distraction it provided, and yet… Reyes couldn’t help himself when she silenced all his fears about this new life in Andromeda. You’re someone to me , she had said. All he had ever wanted to be was someone that mattered, someone that would make a difference, someone people would look up to and be proud to know. It seemed he had become that person unknowingly because of her. For her.

“Well, that is a surprise, Ryder.” He laughed quietly to himself, but found no response followed his. Glancing down it became plainly obvious as to why. “If you fall asleep now, Ryder, you won’t learn any of my deep dark secrets.” Again, nothing. She was out like a light. Reyes tried not to laugh in case it might wake her up. This might be the only time he would see her in such a pleasantly serene state. All the stress he could normally see on her shoulders and in her features just melted away as she slept there.

As time passed, the bright orange star dipped lower on the horizon, coloring the sky in a broad spectrum. Perhaps one of the most beautiful sunset’s Reyes has seen since finding himself on Kadara. It had been a long time since he had spent any prolonged time in the Port proper to see a sunset like this one. The landing pad in the slums didn’t offer this nice of a view.

Moments like this made everything he was doing worth it in the end. At least, he hoped. There was no guarantee she could forgive him for the secrets he kept. The only thing he had was hope - something that he hadn’t felt since the uprising. And it was all because of one Kitt Ryder. Maybe that tugging in his chest was more than he wanted to believe it was. Time would tell. For now, he had her, and that would be all that mattered until the Charlatan was needed again.