#the one thing is that writing from his pov and giving him trauma make him more sympathetic. but tahts unavoidable. im not complaining tho i

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

[altraviolet]

How do you find a character's 'voice'? I have no problem writing OCs, but when it comes to existing characters I get so anxious that I'm mischaracterizing them!

This is a great question! This is definitely something I struggle with sometimes. Here are some of the things I've done to try to keep characterization consistent:

watched a bunch of videos about characterization and the craft of writing

gone back to the canon and reread parts that featured the character you're trying to write

reduced the character to like, ONE descriptor, ONE "essence," if you will. JRO did a great job making very identifiable characters for us. although many of the initial characterizations are modified by the end of the comic, you can still use that "essence". I'll give an ex in a minute but after you identify that "essence," keep it in mind for your character when you write them

when writing from their POV, or from a close third narration (or heck second person talking to them), remember what the character knows. how did they get to the place they are now? what kinds of details in a room would they notice?

This is not all I've done but it would take me SO LONG to put together more points so we'll move on~!

Okay so for more details on the above:

The Essence Thing

I think Ultra Magnus is a really good example of this. We're introduced to him having a very specific outlook on life (we literally see through his eyes in one early panel, it's great). We understand him to be a VERY strict mech who adheres to the Autobot Law to the letter (semi-colon, actually, lol). We see him meticulously arrange and rearrange objects, we see him point out screws that are misaligned by 0.001% (paraphrase, I don't remember the exact wordage). All in all, it's really easy to understand in just a couple of words who he is. Meticulous to a fault. Rodimus distracts him by using bad grammar on purpose.

By the end of the comics, he's loosened up a little. And (SPOILERS for the end of the comics), Megatron telling him to abandon his armor and be true to himself is something he's receptive to. Whereas in the beginning he wore it as somewhat literal armor. And refused to smile.

So what have I done with my fic? Well, it's important to keep in mind that UM isn't going to change all his ways. He won't be as much of a stickler as before, because he's learned to have friends in some capacity, and that's loosened him up a little tiny bit. But he's going to retain that core trait of being really into keeping things neat and tidy. And, the UM that Megatron told to abandon his armor isn't the one that made the jump. So I assumed they had that convo later in their friendship. The TEG UM still has those organized traits (cuz it's funny), but he's not as bad as he used to be.

So hopefully that makes sense. Boil your character down to a trait or two and keep it in mind for everything.

Oh boy the asks are piling up so I'm gonna try to go a bit faster now.

What The Character Knows

Let's do a little thought experiment. Tailgate and Drift walk into a random Autobot bar. What does each mech notice?

If I said one of them quickly identifies friendly mechs and the other one identifies unfriendly mechs, can you tell which did which? Who notices the energon specials and who takes note of the weapons behind the bar? Which one will remember a time he went with his conjunx to a bar and didn't get in a fight? haha

Okay so you can probably guess the answers that I intended for the above! Drift had a hard past, then became a violent Decepticon. Tailgate was asleep for 6 million years and then woke up and befriended a ton of people and had Movie Nights and also some trauma but he never had to fight for his life like Drift did.

So, as you can see, what the character knows (which is informed by their past, their education, their belief systems, the friends they have, the enemies they have, etc) really impacts how they see the world. And you can use that to your advantage by trying to look through their eyes keeping in mind what they know.

Sorry I'm gonna have to end this here, but this is a great topic. I'll try to write more about character voice and POV in the future. If you want to poke me later about it here or on twitter, please do. I will get my thoughts together and also find the links to the videos I've watched :)

[rainylana]

“I’m always going to take care of you.” Alternate version!

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: this is a new version of my old series i wrote last year. so many people have asked to see more of how eddie deals with such a horrible thing happening to the reader, so here we go, this is for you!

warnings: PLEASE READ! this is purposely written, in the beginning, as fast paced. i was trying to establish a sense of anxiety and fear while writing it because of how quickly it happened. the assault happens differently and does not go into much detail this chapter, but will during the next. i purposely switched povs because i still wanted to give insight to the reader. so with that being said, warnings for this fic include: rape, blood and bruises, broken bones, hospitalization, language, smoking of weed, trauma and shock, lots of tears and angst. please, please, let me know what you thought and if there’s anything i need to go about differently. it’s been a year since i’ve properly revisited this series. i feel like this version will be much darker and will take more of a toll. let me know your thoughts and if anything needs changed. i never spellcheck lol. this one’s for all of us. i see you and feel you. much love, lana.

Steve Harrington’s parties were the kind that were talked about for weeks on end. The music, the food, the house. It was a mansion, and there had been many of times were you and Eddie had slept in multiple rooms of that house, unbeknownst to the owners knowledge.

This party was no different. Bodies were on bodies, beer was spilled and the pool was splashing every drop of water out into the flower bed, that was no covered in trash. There was a basketball court that entertained the jocks. It was an absolute mansion.

You were somewhere. Eddie would see you from time to time getting more beer or a snack, coming over to check on him. He closed his eyes, taking a long drag and leaned against the wall. “Shit, this shit is good.” He coughed slightly, letting his arms fall at his sides, black sleeves pulled up at his elbows.

You found him eventually, hair slightly wet from being splashed at the pool, a towel wrapped around your shoulders. Most everyone was wearing their bathing suits. You smiled when you sat down beside him, laughing at the redness of his eyes. “Feelin good, Eddie?” You tapped his chin.

He grinned at you goofily. “Shit, is the shit, babe. Wanna try?” He offered it to you.

You plopped down on your ass and sat beside him, saying hi to all the others that joined the circle. You laid your head on his shoulder. “Sure you don’t want to come swim with me, Ed? It feels good. Moons out, too. It could be romantic.”

“I give you plenty of romance, darlin’.” He said through hooded eyes, armed laid lazily around your wet shoulders. “Damn, your tits are out!” He exclaimed, finally realizing you had changed, eyes bulging for dramatics.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “My tits are not out. Everyone is wearing them! You picked it out, don’t you remember?”

“Baby, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember much of anything right now.” He was practically drooling at the mouth, giggling like a child and floating off into space.

“Uh, huh.” You gave him a look before turning to the rest of the group. “He’s cut off.”

He was too stoned to realize what you had said, curling up in himself and lulling his head against the wall, eyes drooping closed.

“Eddie, Eddie, oh, okay,” You sighed, watching as he fell asleep. “I’m serious, Gareth, make sure he doesn’t do anything else. I got to carry this guy home, you know.”

You sat with Eddie for almost an hour, making sure he was alright. He always was. He always got tired when he smoked weed, you did too, but not near as much as he did. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, telling everyone else you’d be back and that you were going to change your clothes.

You went to the same room you always did, walked up the same steps and same corridor, the air cool against the exposure of your wet skin. Nobody was upstairs. You had planned for a quick change and nothing more, but you hadn’t any idea what was waiting for you behind the door, or the fact you were being followed.

•

Eddie was in and out of it, waking up here and there if someone spoke loudly enough. Dustin kept laughing, about what, he didn’t know or care. He just wanted to sleep. Later on he would realize that it was probably an act of God that he heard you, because there was no scientific explanation for it. He shouldn’t have heard you.

The music was booming loud, playing a hit from Blondie over the speakers. People were chugging beers, getting high and fucking out in the shed outside, the bedrooms above. The lights were flashing on and off, mixtures of colors painting the walls, their bodies. There was no way he could of heard you, yet he did.

He felt as if he were dreaming at first. His eyes were still closed, body numb from the awkward position he was in. It felt like a loud thumping at first, like something had hit the floor. Then a crash, something had broke. Then a high pitched noise, someone had screamed. It had to have been a dream, because he swore it was you.

Eddies eyes peeled open slowly, foggy and clouded from his high, but he didn’t feel so good anymore, and was left with a chill up his spine. He looked to the right of him to find you gone. “Gareth?” His voice was gravely and deep. “Where’d y/n go?”

Gareth pointed up the stairs quickly, eager to get back to his conversation with Robin about her thoughts on the new Back to the Future movie. Eddie had pushed himself up and found the stairs. It was a mansion, having had to climb four sets of stairs before he could find the hallway. Each set he could hear it clearer. He still shouldn’t have. The music was too loud. He could feel the vibrations underneath his feet against the wood flooring.

He walked quicker and quicker, the sounds of crashing, screaming, begging, becoming louder and louder. Soon, he heard his own name, and he knew it was you. He was running then, as fast as he could to find you. And when he did, the last door on the left, the same room you both had slept in many of times, he was brought to pure horror.

•

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Well, you did. You had been raped. You were just confused what was happening now. You were sitting up, staring blankly at the floor. Eddie was down at your feet, saying something, saying a lot of things, actually, but you couldn’t hear him. It sounded like he was underwater. Your ears were ringing, and he kept dabbing his hand under your nose. Were you bleeding?

Your hands were vibrating, along with the other parts of your body, shaking like you were having a seizure. Surely you’d pass out soon. Everything you felt was heightened. The pain, the emotion, or lack of. You soon realized you were going into shock.

You felt everything, yet nothing, all at the same time.

•

Four seconds.

It had taken four seconds for Eddie to react. Four seconds for him to decide what to do. He’d found you bent over the bed, hands pinned above your head and legs split apart. The man above you, twice your size, twice his size, a man he’d never seen before, raping you. It had taken him four seconds to react.

The man above you had stopped when Eddie had come in, staring at him in the act with a look of surprise and shock. Eddie lunged then, knocking the man over and into a side table that crumbled under their weight, a string of punches and curses, the sound of choking and items breaking. There was so much noise, but you didn’t hear any of it. You laid there, bent over, legs spread, a mixture of blood and semen seeping out of you as you stared straight ahead, fixated on the painting in front of you.

Steve and his mom at the beach.

You didn’t hear the sound of Eddie’s cry of pain when your attacker punched the wind out of him, you didn’t hear him run out of the room or Eddie’s footsteps after him, halting halfway and returning back to you. You kept thinking of Steve and his mom. She was so sweet. You really should spend more time with her.

All of that, led to now.

“Baby, baby, please, please, say something!” He panicked, knelt down at your legs, holding your arms to keep you upright, “Oh, God,” He took another look at your legs, covered in blood. “Oh, my god, Oh, my god.” He covered his mouth briefly, not knowing what to do. “Okay, okay,” He jumped up, running to the joining bathroom to grab a towel. “Okay, baby, I got this, see?” He started quickly wiping away at the blood, switching his eyes from his legs to you.

It looked like you’d been killed, or were dying. You said nothing, deathly pale, face stained with tears and mascara, deep bruising that painted your cheeks and eyes purple. Your lip was busted and bleeding. You were shaking with tremors, your breath coming out in little pants that were uneven. You were choking on your sobs, not a single one being allowed out. It hurt to sit, the pain in your abdomen was almost unbearable.

Eddie didn’t realize it himself, but he was also going in to shock. It became harder and harder to get the blood off of you due to his shaky hands, and his breathing become more sporadic and choppy. “I’m getting it, honey. I’m trying.” He said, words coming out in a rush. The towel was stained red when he’d finished, your legs still coated, stained by the blood from inside of you. He looked you over, shaking his head. He didn’t know what to do.

“Y/n,” He gasped, reaching up to grab your face. “Talk to me. Are you hurt? Where does it hurt at?”

You couldn’t look at him. It felt impossible. Your eyes were so heavy. His voice still sounded as if he were underwater, his movements slow, like he was fighting off a current, and you suddenly became freezing, trembling harder like you were out in the snow. Maybe it was the shock.

“Honey, please,” Eddie begged you, eyes tearing up. “I don’t know what to do.”

When he noticed how hard you were shaking, he jumped up and got a blanket from the chair, wrapping it around your body and sitting next to you. “Okay, here, I’m here. Steve!” His scream snapped you out of it, making you gasp and jump.

“No!” Your voice was hoarse, burning as you screamed. “No!” You tried to stand but you collapsed, pointing to the door. “Close the door! Close the door!”

Your urgency made him obey quickly, and he was slamming the door and locking it within a second. “Y/n-”

“You can’t tell anyone!” You sobbed, wobbling on your legs. You were a sight, one that would traumatize him for the rest of his life. “No one, swear it! Let’s just go home!” You we’re a wreck, sobbing, hyperventilating, shaking. Surely you would faint.

“Angel, baby,” He tried to approach you, but you freaked.

“No!” You jumped away. “Don’t- don’t touch me, please!” Was the room getting darker?

“Okay, okay,” He held up his hands, heart racing and bulging, fearful eyes. “I won’t touch you. I’ll stay right here, okay?”

You nodded, mouth opening and closing, feet shuffling, limping, trying to stay upright. Surely, you would faint.

•

His elbows are on his knees, hands pressed against his mouth. The chair he’s in is uncomfortable, an ache in his back that matches the one in his heart. Wayne is there, sitting across from him on the other side of the room. Steve, Nancy, Robin and Dustin are outside in the waiting room, along with the rest of hellfire. He tried to be discreet. Well no, that wasn’t true. When you’d fainted, Eddie lost it.

He’d swooped you up in his arms, carrying you down stairs, a sobbing mess, looking anywhere for anyone, to help. He found Mike first, then Chrissy Cunningham. The party was over very quickly.

“Eddie.” Wayne said tiredly, wearing a puffed, flannel coat. “Why don’t you go home, bud? I’ll stay with her.”

“No.” He didn’t miss a beat. He was staring a hole right through you, eyes so tearful they looked to be made of glass. “I can’t leave her.”

Wayne knew he wouldn’t leave. It was four in the morning, and you hadn’t shown any signs of life. If it weren’t for the machines, Eddie was sure you would have been dead. You were so quiet, not a stir, not a twitch. Were you dreaming? Was it good or a nightmare?

“She’s alright, buddy. You know that.” Wayne could see the telltale signs of his panic attack coming on. “You heard what the doctor said.”

You had abrasions along your vaginal walls. Your nose was broken, now covered with gauze and medical tape. You had two broken ribs, bruises covering your entire body. The doctor had asked him questions he didn’t know the answer to. Eddie knew what had happened, but what had really happened?

You would be okay. He knew that. You were alive and you survived. But were you okay? What would you become when you woke up? You would be totally traumatized, or would you simply move on with life? He knew the answer and he hated himself for knowing it. He knew the pain you were going to suffer when you woke up. He saw it. He saw what it was you would have to endure. A part of him wished you would sleep peacefully forever.

It felt like every vital organ inside of him had been ripped apart, like his stomach had been cut and everything spilled out. He’d thrown up twice since they got to the hospital. It been hours since you both got there. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d saw. Your body being used, abused by a man who had beaten you up, raped you, split you open and left bloody.

“Oh, god, Wayne.” Eddie broke down in sobs, shoulders sinking and face hiding into his hands for a shield, a mask to hide from the world. “This is all my fault.”

The image of you had scared his brain, the mental image something he thought he’d never be able to erase. Through everything he had gone through, this moment here, was the worst moment he had ever lived through, and he himself, would make a deal with god if he could, just to take your place, to take it all away. The love of his life was in pain, and it caused him more hurt than he could have ever imagined.

His uncle looked at him, saddened and distraught for the both of you. “Don’t say that, Eddie. You know she’d hate to hear you say somethin’ like that.”

Eddie’s body shook with heavy, deep and broken cries. “It is. I was asleep. I was asleep and stoned out of my mind while she was being raped right above me!” He practically spat the words with a venomous hatred, throwing out his arm as he looked at you longingly. “I failed her. Her, of all people. I fuckin’ failed the one thing I care about most. How the hell am I supposed to live with this?”

Wayne watched him stare at you, stare at you and cry like he was mourning for the entire world, like you had been taken from him.

“How are we supposed to be okay after this, Wayne?” He looked like a little boy then, looking over to his uncle with big, brown eyes. “How can I…how can she ever forgive me?” Another sob, and another. Wayne was sat beside him now, holding his shoulders as Eddie cried.

“You two have been through hell together.” The old man said, on hand on his nephews new. “You’ll get through this. She will and you will. She stood by your side when you were dying, remember? She helped you through it. It did you both in, but you got through it, didn’t you?

He didn’t answer, but he heard his uncle loud and clear. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he’d help you in every way he could. He owed it to you. You’d patched him up, held him through nightmares and insecurities about his scars. You fed him, helped clothed him and helped him keep himself clean when he was still too sore to move around. You had put your own life on pause for him. He owed it to you to do the same. In his eyes, it was his own fault it happened, anyways.

“Yeah.” Eddie sniffled, wiping away his tears with his jacket. “Yeah, I- you’re right. You’re right. I can help her. I’ll help her. She’ll be okay.”

“She’ll be okay.” Wayne assured him.

He didn’t realize just how hard it was going to be, how a giant rift in your relationship would almost separate the two of you. That the both of you would be forever changed from that night.

Eddie gulped, blinking back tears as he looked at the steady beating of your heart in the vital screen. “She’ll be okay.”

[levmada]

hello! how r u doing?

can u write something angsty with either no comfort or comfort at the end (whatever u want). basically, reader has been having a pretty shitty week and has been working nonstop, and is the type to not about what's bothering them until they can't contain it anymore or they're calm enough to talk about it because they know they can get snappy and say some very sharp words that can be very hurtful. levi of course knows that, because he is our observant pookie, and leaves the reader alone, just acts normal. one night, let's say levi maybe says something snarky or whatever, that the reader has been some pretty bad attitude which is unlike them, and usually reader wouldn't take his words seriously and know that he's perhaps trying to help them open up. this time, it doesn't go the wau it's supposed to, and reader just fully snaps at levi and say some very harsh, petty and hurtful words to him. the rest is up to u!

and thank u btw, i love ur content❤️

yes, yes i can. ty for such a detailed rq :) this became angstier than intended😭but it's ok bc it was 10x more painful to write being mean to levi.

reader/us also has a distinct personality kind of built off the way you described, so i hope it's what you expect😅

➥ pairing: Levi x gn!reader

➥ c/w: college!au, Levi pov, Levi not realizing he has trauma for 1400 words, apologizing, selective mutism...?, heavy hurt and some comfort

➥ wc: 1.4k

If ever he ranked cleaning activities in his mind (which he has), organizing isn’t very high, but it doesn’t occur to him not to help you out with the little things when your week has been poisoned with the dual evils, shitty and exhausting.

Ever since you got back from class, you’ve sat there at your desk. He’s kept you in the corner of his eye, and that same scowl from an hour ago is still there, illuminated by the light of your laptop. You’ve paid it more attention than to anything else—which is not at all, even to your basic needs. 

It’s best to give you space when that look is on your face, and has and will continue to, but not when it comes to eating and-or sleeping. Other than that, he’s content in the background. Whatever he does to help out, you always notice, and tell him thank you with a weak smile, but not today—today when you look particularly like you’re at your wit’s end.

When he finished organizing the apartment (including the fridge), he bypassed your desk and sat on his computer playing solitaire for a solid half-hour. Inevitably, he gets bored, and he’s giving you as much time as he’s willing to before he drags you out to eat something.

Unsatisfied without the job completely done, he rolls up his sleeves and starts at the end of your desk by emptying your pencil sharpener, making a face at how full it is.

To his satisfaction, your focus hardly wanes. Which is good, but he knows how you like everything anyway. With an undistinguishable but distinct fondness, he notes your quirks; even the way you hold your pen melds with your existence in his mind. 

Or no, maybe that’s wrong. You’re a part of him; not a visitor, or even a resident, of his heart and mind.

“Levi, I need those pencils; leave them there.”

You’re referring to the plastic tin of a few colored pencils in his hand, which sat near the middle beside your computer. He looks at you, but you’re definitely serious about it, so he sets it back down.

“If you say so.”

You say nothing and go back to your work. Skipping the tin (which he wants to wash because of all the gross graphite smears and shavings at the bottom), he takes the pencil case beside that, and pops it open. An eraser found its way into a sea of colored pencils somehow somehow, as well as crayons—probably Hange. Not too long ago you had them over working on a class project. He starts picking out these imposters.

“Levi,” you huff, your expression severe as you look daggers at him. “Just leave it alone.”

“Tch, you’re kidding. You’d rather I waste my time sorting the bookshelf in reverse alphabetical order instead? That’s stupid, so why?”

He always gets ‘Are you okay?’ wrong, but this time you turn towards him with your fist tightly curled over your notebook. He doesn’t look startled, but he barely catches the beginning of your revile.

“Stop messing around!—I just told you to stop fucking with it, so quit being a fucking idiot and get out of my space!! This is so stupid, do you not see I’m busy!? ‘Cuz you clearly can’t listen!”

Ironically the angrier you sound, the less emotion shows on his face. Only at the end—you already look guilty—amidst silence like a bomb’s fallout, he wears the scowl of a frightened animal.

He waits until your lips start moving to turn around and leave. 

At the door, he stops again with his hand clutching the knob, and glares at you over his shoulder. When your lips go to form his name, he slams it harder than necessary.

This is so stupid.

That was far from the first time someone has yelled at him in his life, and besides, is getting yelled at not an experience absolutely everyone’s had?

Even so, he can’t seem to make himself do fuck-all besides quietly sit, sit in your dark kitchen at the dining table, his legs folded to his chest. He feels like a gargoyle—odd, ancient, and unthinking. 

Maybe he just never expected you would ever lose your temper, which is naive of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, until, your voice speaking softly makes him bolt up straight. 

“I’m sorry, can I turn this on…?” you ask softly.

For now, your profile is merely a black shadow in the doorway, with your back illuminated by the one in the tiny hall. The switch you’re gesturing to would light up above the oven, rather than the whole room.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. But it’s not a no. 

Despite the nature of turning on a light, it feels so slow.

He must’ve sat a while, because he even cringes, blinking feverishly. Before his vision even adjusts, the guilt etched into your expression is almost painful for him to look at, like a cavernous gorge shoveled into the earth miles wide and deep. You’re holding something to your chest.

“I’m so sorry for snapping like that. You didn’t do anything wrong at all. I’m so sorry, Levi. I’m never, ever too busy—fuck, I was frustrated and I never should take it out on you, not in any way, ever. I’m the one who’s an idiot.”

As you speak, you come until you’re by the table, standing like a magnet constantly being repelled from it. 

Then you set what you were holding down in front of him—one, an expensive piece of paper (the kind that bends, not tears) with a drawing of some sort he doesn’t want to look at right now, and a rice cake wrapped in clingy wrap. 

His favorite. 

“I’m so so sorry,” you continue apologizing profusely. At this point your eyes are wet, but they keep darting away, with your nails surely leaving half-moon-shaped indents in your knuckles. You pray very quietly, “I’ll do anything ‘cuz you’re everything.”

Wide-eyed, he can’t seem to respond except for a raw sound in his throat after you say that. An instinct seems primal, as much as pumping blood is, that if he says anything, the likelihood that you’ll leave him will increase an unknown amount. 

Normally he’s so calm under pressure, and he didn’t say anything before either—you’ll get the wrong idea. The best thing he can think of is to robotically slide the offerings closer.

You’re still trying not to cry when you go. 

He stays there, just as he was, for another little while. He’s not really feeling anything, but at the same time, he’s running out of breath from the effort to calm down. 

Ugh…

The way you clearly felt is probably what you get, but he doesn’t want that for you anyway. Even if you did mean any of it.

But you didn’t.

It’s midnight or so—too early for Levi to usually be asleep but very late for him to be coming to bed—when he taps the bedroom door open with a few fingers and slinks inside. To prevent from waking you up, he did most of his business in the bathroom in the dark. 

It now helps him make out the shape of you under the covers on your side of the bed. He comes like a wraith, so much that he’s near-silent crawling into bed beside you, and using the edge of the covers to slip under.

Your back is in front of him. He wants to make sure you know it’s okay… but he doesn’t know how. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead right between your shoulder blades and the thin material of your tank top, the only place you’re touching. You’re warm, you smell good. 

By the slight hitch in your breathing then, you know he’s here. 

After a while, he brings his hand up to your waist, or rather a bit before it. It’s not long before you gently rest your fingers on top of his. He lets them slot in-between.

His eyes are heavy. He doesn’t bother opening them as he reaches around, bringing you his way, with your head nestled in his chest. That’s the only time you make a move, since he made it clear it’s okay for you to.

He holds you tightly and breathes you in. You both relax.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

[chroniclesofbts]

Call Me Home Part 3

Idol hybrid BTS x hybrid foreigner reader

Warnings: implied sexual themes, smut, angst, fluff, polyamorous relationship

If you’re not 18+ please, do not interact.

As always, my works do not represent BTS in any way, this is purely a work of fiction.

*short chapter, I cut this part in half because it was so long*

Y/N's POV

Coming to, I can hear voices around me and an annoying beeping. Listening intently I hear the words, "not heat", "too risky", "trauma", and "management". The monitor attached to my heart gave away that I was waking up, the beeping increasing. My eyes flutter open, the light blinding me initially.

"Hey, welcome back. You really scared me there" Jin said softly, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. "I thought my face was just too handsome for you" he joked to lighten the mood.

"How are you feeling Miss... ?" A woman in scrubs asked

"Fine, head is a little heavy, I'm a little sore too. What happened?" I questioned

"You passed out in the shower with Jin. You didn't hit your head or anything, he managed to hold you up and call Jungkook for help." I flushed at the thought of Jungkook seeing me naked. "Can I ask you some personal questions?" The doctor asked gently, "Your pack can stay here or leave if you feel uncomfortable at any time"

"Um, s-sure" I stuttered

"Do you have any nightmares?"

"Oh, uh yeah, most people do though" I joke

"How many a week?" She says writing things down on a clipboard.

"Uh it depends, maybe like 5?" Jin's hand finds mine, and holds it in a comforting manor.

"Do you ever feel numb?" She continues

"Yeah, I guess if I get too overwhelmed I do." I answer honestly

"Do you feel like you startle easily? Have trouble concentrating?"

"Sometimes" I answer, starting to close in on myself.

"Last question, where do you see yourself in the future?"

"I mean, how far out? I see myself with the pack, for as long as I have left" I answer, feeling Jimin lean his head on my shoulder from the right side where he was sitting.

"I see, thank you for answering my questions, I will talk to your packs leader and you should be able to go back to their dorms in the next few hours." She smiled, motioning to Namjoon to follow her.

"How long was I asleep?" I ask Jimin

"3 days, you must have been tired and your body was recovering from the shock to your system with the pills you took." Jimin explained.

"Why was she asking all of those questions?" I ask him nervously, "Did I do something wrong, are you going to replace me?" I whimper

"No! No, baby, never" Jin said, squeezing my hand. "We just want to make sure we can help you, make sure we can be enough for you"

"Oh, why?" I mumble confused as I feel myself blush.

"Because you deserve the perfect pack" Jimin said, pushing his nose further into my scent gland.

"Wait, I thought I was in heat" I look at Jin, who looks away bashfully.

"Your body has never had a heat, it wasn't ready for a heat, your body was fighting the medicine, it caused you to get sick. Right before you passed out I could smell the shift in your hormones, I just didn't figure it out until you passed out. I, o-overwhelmed your b-body. I c-caused it, I am so sorry" He cried, "we don't deserve to be your pack, we couldn't even take care of you as soon as we got you"

"Jin, I don't blame you. It's not your fault, how could anyone have known? You caught me, right? I didn't get a concussion. It's okay"

Before he could respond, Namjoon came in the door followed by a man I had never met before.

"This is Sejin, one of our managers. After talking with the medical staff, we think it's best to start you on a month of medicine to encourage a natural heat cycle. This will also give your body time to adjust to being in a pack, as well as let your mind work through everything that has happened recently. With the rush of moving and education, now this, your body and mind are overwhelmed. We want to make sure you're completely healthy and ready." Namjoon explained as the nurses started to detach me from all of the medical equipment.

"Take it easy for the first week, bed rest for the first 5 days at least. Your body is recovering and we don't want anything to delay the process." The nurse explained.

"Here, we brought you some clothes, its ours, but we will get you your own soon" Jungkook said, handing me some clothes that smell like all of them. He helped me up with a blush and led me to the connected bathroom to change. I quickly changed into the sweatpants and shirt, pulling the drawstrings so they fit move comfortably. I opened the door and found him waiting outside, eyes widening, pupils dilating, at me in their clothes. He extended his hand to me and started to walk me over the the wheelchair.

"I don't need that" I said, trying to pull out of his grip.

"Okay" Jungkook smirked, sweeping me off my feet, "but you can't walk, doctors orders. I prefer this way too" he winked.

"W-wait, actually, the chair l-looks fine" I stuttered through my embarrassment.

"Sorry, cutie, I like this way" He smiled, staring at me with a fondness I haven't seen yet. He carries me through the lobby and outside to the waiting car. Jimin's mouth dropped open as he whined about how unfair it was that he got to carry me, causing a few others to grumble too. He hands me to Namjoon, who pulls me close in his lap, shoving his face into my neck and relaxing. The drive was filled with lots of joking and flirting, I swear my face was always flushed. Jin steals me away from Namjoon to carry me inside and up the stairs to their room. It has a large bed where they obviously sleep all together, lots of pillows and blankets resembling a den. Jin gently lowered me into their den, showing through actions that he could care for me. I immediately relaxed, realizing that even being surrounded by predators, I was safe. I let my eyes flutter closed, my body pulling me under with exhaustion. The last thing I register is a body laying down gently next to me, in their animal form, their purring lulling me deeper into dreamland.

Taglist open (please let me know if I missed you): @dachshunddame @minjianhyung @minhanbyeol

[verycharismaticdragon]

Okay, so I went a lil overboard with a reply to LBH criticism over at @controversial-blorbo-bracket, and I figure 4.5K words that probably should be put under a community label are a bit too much for a reblog, so I'm posting it separately.

CW for general discussion of sex, and for rape mention (assumption of rape is discussed and rebutted).

------

You know what, I was going to reply to this the usual way, you know, 'oh look at that, another person with surface level reading who hates binghe!' because fr every single binghe disliker has the same talking points - which, you know, individually were long discussed (and disproved) by ppl in fandom - but then I was suddenly hit with a spoon beam so now I'm writing a long-ass answer.

Starting with the most glaring, this sentence:

Their dynamic ended up coming off more as SQQ tolerating this unmanageable man-baby and letting him fuck (and hurt him in the process, and then cry about that, more than SQQ himself did) him just to get him to shut the fuck up sometimes, like giving a toddler a biscuit to appease them.

has clued me in to the largest thing anon has missed. Remember how I said "surface-level reading"? Let me explain. There are great many avenues for analyzing a book, especially one as crunchy on a meta-level as svsss (you'll see what I mean by that later).

But the most basic thing - the LVL1 if you will - is asking yourself the following questions: (1) whose POV is the book written from? (2) is that POV omniscient or limited? (2.1) are there cases where the POV character doesn't know something we, the reader, have inferred? (3) if it's limited, how reliable is their narration? (3.1) are there cases of their actions not aligning with their narration? (3.2) are there reasons for them to lie to themselves and/or the reader?

For SVSSS, the answers are: (1) mostly Shen Qingqiu's POV; (2) limited; (2.1) e.g. he doesn't know what's going on in Luo Binghe's head (we'll get back to this more in-depth later), most notably not realizing Luo Binghe is in love with him for good 2/3rds of the book; (3) unreliable; (3.1) think him insisting he is fine when he's clearly grieving post-Abyss - which we can see both from other characters' reactions, and from stray thoughts that he himself has and then dismisses (eng.edition chapter 4: "No! Bah! Shen Qingqiu mentally slapped himself. Who are you calling a grieving widow?! Whose husband died?! That's not something you should just say--you're really getting worse by the day.") (3.2) off the top of my head: the trauma SQQ is going through, with his two coping mechanisms being 'not thinking about it' and 'making light of the situation'; internalized toxic masculinity - as in, the idea that it's shameful for a man to have emotions; internalized homophobia - as in, being unable to examine his attraction to men (evident from very early on, actually) without having a knee-jerk 'it's wrong!' reaction.

To sum it up: Shen Qingqiu's POV is limited and his narration is unreliable. What does this tell us? That we should take what he says in the narrative voice with the grain (or like, a spoonful) of salt, and that it's worth to close-read him. Don't just believe him when he says something; look for evidence!

Going back to anon's words, saying that SQQ appears to just 'tolerate' Luo Binghe tells me that you have not caught SQQ's lies at all.

(cont. under cut)

SQQ is, pardon my language, fucking obsessed with Luo Binghe - just in a different way than Luo Binghe is with him. He is constantly thinking about Luo Binghe even when the latter is not around! (Contrast it to how he thinks about his family from his og world like, 3 times over the course of the book, despite loving them.) And when LBH is around, SQQ can't go a page without mentioning how incredibly beautiful he is! (And then blames it on Luo Binghe being a protagonist, like, of course the protagonist is the most beautiful person in the world, that's natural!.. We later get the POV of a literal author of the world, btw, and he says he wrote LBH as a conventionally beautiful prettyboy type, and his own ideal man is completely different. Which is how we know that SQQ going on about LBH's radiant showstopping obvious-to-anyone beauty is really only his own opinion that he's trying to sell to us as a universal truth.)

And, speaking of LBH's crimes anon mentions (I will not be calling them 'warcrimes', sorry, none of the very few less-than-moral things he does can be classified as that) - you may notice that, for both actual things LBH did and for things SQQ attributed to him mistakenly, those never changed the way SQQ feels about Binghe. He thinks LBH killed his kinda-friend and still jumps in to sacrifice himself to save LBH's life. He sees the guy LBH mutilated, and is disturbed by that... but still continues to protect LBH. Gives him a lil forehead kiss like 20 minutes later.

Oh, and let's not forget the scene where SQQ is punished with a hyper-realistic dream of original LBH tearing off his limbs, and his reaction to that is "I need to see my Binghe asap immediately like rn, I need my cute version of Binghe to feel better about this."

This all is to point out that SQQ continuously fails to be normal about LBH. That's a feature! That's what makes their relationship fun! "Clearly you are perfect for each other pls dont involve anyone else in whatever the fuck is wrong with you" kinda situation.

But you must look through the cover of SQQ's misdirections for it - like again, trauma! toxic masculinity! internalized homophobia! It's difficult for him to admit his feelings even in his head, but he is getting better about that. In Mei vs Ge extra, SQQ admits he wanted LBH to push a little more about them sharing a bed and that he would have agreed. And is kinda put out that LBH simply accepted his refusal. Then in Deep Dream extra, SQQ is literally the one to jump LBH. And in Wedding extra, he almost manages to look directly at the fact that he's very happy that LBH is proposing to him! So yeah, he is getting better at admitting it too. But honestly, his feelings about LBH were always really intense. In different ways over the course of the novel, but he adored LBH from before he transmigrated, and that adoration never lessened, despite everything that happened between them. You just gotta look at his actions and not his 24/7 mental stand-up routine.

All right, next, in the same paragraph the previous thing came from, I'll abridge and highlight for relevancy:

Their dynamic ended up coming off more as SQQ tolerating this unmanageable man-baby and letting him fuck [...] him just to get him to shut the fuck up sometimes, like giving a toddler a biscuit to appease them. And it came off very gross, especially in the epilogue, when Luo Binghe was blatantly manipulative about that, pushing and cornering Shen Qingqiu into doing more than he already was, and using his tears to his advantage, in a way that was clearly in the text not unintentional.

...Listen, for someone claiming to hate how one-dimensional LBH ended up, I'm seeing a distinct lack of effort at actually understanding the character. Luo Binghe's teary act (in the moments when it is an act, because there are also many moments when his tears are genuine, we'll get to that later) is, first and foremost, for Shen Qingqiu's benefit.

Shen Qingqiu admits it himself that he finds it easier to be "frank" with Luo Binghe who is "willing to cling to his legs and throw a tantrum to seek comfort" (Return to Childhood extra). It's the internalized toxic masculinity and homophobia thing again. It's actually pretty interesting how he rewires his brain from its knee-jerk reaction of "homosexuality wrong" by mentally comparing Luo Binghe to a girl - like calling him Bing-mei, thinking he's acting "like a lovesick maiden", etc. God I want to study this man like a bug. Anyway, yeah, the point is that LBH acting cute and whiny helps SQQ be more comfortable with giving affection to a man, something that he struggles with because of his personal issues.

And Luo Binghe, while not aware of the exact nature of SQQ's issues (having grown up in a world where homophobia doesn't seem to exist), does understand this - that Shen Qingqiu’s thin face and pride make it difficult for him to show emotions. And it's not something LBH intrinsically knows either; he has to figure it out (not without help, everybody say thank you papa Airplane), confirm it for himself (the "But other than hearing Shizun crying..." - "Who was crying?" - "Other than hearing someone crying, [...]" scene comes to mind), and then accept it as truth (which he doesn't seem to fully do until at least the Maigu Ridge, and Shen Qingqiu outright saying "I do it for you and only you!" - if not even later.) It takes him time to learn how to work with this knowledge too...

And, to be brutally honest, how blatant and over the top he gets with the act is entirely due to how SQQ keeps rewarding the behavior.

Now... you might consider this a conjecture, given how we only get the tiniest glimpses into Luo Binghe's mind - in the rare moments the author shifts out of the primary POV. But fortunately, one of those moments can be used to prove that Luo Binghe is not, in fact, "pushing and cornering" Shen Qingqiu into doing things Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to do.

The moment I'm talking about is in the Mei vs Ge extra: Shen Qingqiu, having agreed to "do some exploring together", sees LBH's giant 🐓, goes "absolutely not" out loud, and attempts to give him a handjob instead — which also doesn't go too well. Bringing us to (LBH's POV emphasized):

No matter how calm Shen Qingqiu kept himself, he couldn’t stop his expression from twisting. Luo Binghe had secretly been paying attention to his face the entire time. At this moment, he carefully said, “Then, Shizun, how about… you do it?”

LBH is attentively watching SQQ's reactions to figure out what he's thinking and feeling. The moment Binghe comes to the conclusion that SQQ is uncomfortable with bottoming, he offers to let him top. Notice how he doesn't start crying or whining to get his way, when it's something that might be a genuine hard line for SQQ?

And it's actually the same in the Regret of Chunshan extra: when SQQ shot LBH's idea down, LBH "looked a bit disappointed, but didn't push the issue". Yes, later SQQ will say LBH was "putting on a pitiful act"; but if you read the scene carefully, LBH did not do anything but look a bit disappointed - and SQQ just walked himself into feeling bad about refusing completely on his own.

Now, when does Luo Binghe use crocodile tears then? Well, the answer seems to be: when it's about small things. Like wanting to do it face to face (after they've already agreed on both sex in general and on who will top), or begging SQQ to call him 'husband' (after they have gotten married). Ultimately inconsequential things, and, likely, things that he suspects SQQ is avoiding only because of embarrassment and not anything more serious.

So, to sum up this section: Luo Binghe's crybaby act is for Shen Qingqiu's peace of mind first and foremost, and Luo Binghe does not actually use it to coerce Shen Qingqiu into anything he wouldn't be willing to do. LBH is not responsible for the fact that Shen Qingqiu has no bottom line when it comes to him and can't handle seeing him even minorly disappointed, let's be real.

Okay, last thing from that paragraph (yes there's another thing):

and letting him fuck (and hurt him in the process, and then cry about that, more than SQQ himself did)

See, with the way anon describes it here, I can't even tell which scene this references, but luckily I have a rebuttal for both options.

Like, is this about the Maigu Ridge? Aka the scene where LBH is not in his right mind (literally hallucinating, among other things) - and then comes back to consciousness to see that he, by all appearances, had brutally raped the person he loves with all his heart? No fucking wonder he starts crying?!.. And to clarify, he did not rape SQQ, because SQQ had given informed consent here. If anything, there was nobody in that scene less consenting than Luo Binghe himself.

Or is this about the scene in Mei vs Ge. Which is like. Entirely on SQQ, who decided to keep quiet instead of telling LBH that it hurts. Like, whatever that was about! It's only, oh, one of the major themes of the novel that hiding your feelings and struggles is bad, and will hurt not only you but people who care about you.

...Btw, if someone not in fandom is reading this with increased befuddlement for why those two are having so much painful sex. Well, aside from the scene where LBH is tripping balls because of a cursed sword, and the situation is forced by the literal will of the narrative (more on this later), our couple are two adult virgins with no sex-ed, and one of them is in possession of (canonically) the biggest dick in the world. Given those factors, it would be weirder if they were able to have flawless sex right away. (And it's a meta-commentary, something we'll also get to later.)

Speaking of the cursed sword, it's somewhat amazing that anon says all this

Why did they make him become this? I understand what he went through, I'm not asking about cause and effect, I'm saying the effect could have been so much better and more realistically (in my opinion and from my personal experience with trauma) written. I'm not saying he couldn't be burnt or bitter or jaded, nor that he couldn't be clingy or overly emotional or manipulative, I just think it could have been done better, and I HATE what his character became for the second half (realistically, most) of the story.

and completely fails to mention that between LBH's return from the Abyss and the end of the main story, LBH's actions are severely affected by a cursed sword that amps up his emotions with the express purpose of destroying his mind. Seems somewhat relevant to why his behavior isn't written as a realistic trauma response? And instead as a trauma response amped up to eleven and set on fire? And that's without even getting into LBH giving himself supernatural brain damage as a form of self-harm. Which uh. doesnt simply map onto any irl concept really.

Continuing from this, I think it's time for me to expand on one of the points from earlier: about how Shen Qingqiu doesn't know what's going on in Luo Binghe's head for most of the novel. It will be tied to this particular bit of criticism on anon's part:

I feel like the author utterly assassinated his character in the 2nd half of the novel (ever since he came back from the abyss) and turned him into a one dimensional caricature of himself, and I HATED IT.

What I want to suggest here is tied, once again, to how Shen Qingqiu’s POV is limited and unreliable. So, a new batch of questions: (4) is our understanding of other characters' actions affected by the limited POV? (5) is there a particular reason for the author to keep other characters' motivations opaque to the POV character? (6) can anything be gleaned by reconstructing other characters' perspectives?

The answer to (4) is a yes so resounding the POV character himself admits it: "First, he'd thought Luo Binghe was unbelievably cruel and evil, then he'd thought Luo Binghe was unspeakably strong and bright." (ch.21) Shen Qingqiu has the very same problem as anon does: he sees Luo Binghe as one-dimensional, making assumptions about how he's supposed to act - instead of trying to understand what's there.

Which leads us neatly into the answer to (5): people making assumptions about what's best for the other person instead of asking them what they need, and hurting them as a result, is also a major theme, present in many relationships throughout the novel! And that's only half of the answer.

The other half will require us to go a little meta. You see, BingQiu's relationship, among other things, are meant to echo the relationship between the reader and the character. The reader loves the character, but they are also the reason for their suffering - as for the story to go on, the character must continuously face more and more difficult obstacles. Shen Qingqiu both loving Luo Binghe and causing him unspeakable amount of trauma is meant to mirror that. Shen Qingqiu's expectations for how Luo Binghe should act, and attempts to fit him into one or the other archetype, are also, yknow, reader behavior.

And... are we not also readers? Are we not expecting Luo Binghe to act a certain way (for example, when I first read the novel, I fully expected him to keep being a classic ML: to swallow all his grievances and keep being unquestioningly and ardently devoted to MC. Which, once articulated, is such an unfair expectation!), and feel it's "character assassination" - to borrow anon's words - when he does not adhere to the role he's supposed to inhabit, based on our idea of his personality and place in the story?

So: is there a reason the author seems to deliberately make Luo Binghe hard to understand, irrational, or one-note, to both Shen Qingqiu and us? Making it harder to sympathize with him? For example, can it be commentary on oversimplifying complex characters to just their role, or just one aspect of their personality...

As for the answer to (6), I ultimately want to leave it for you to try it out and decide. I'm literally the person who wrote a 90k character study fic to try and figure out the minutiae of Luo Binghe's post-Abyss mental state, so my answer is I think obvious. He has a lot going on!

Which kind of brings me to another of anon's gripes:

And actually that made me really sad because I wanted to enjoy it so much, because I LOVED the beginning, and I love Shen Qingqiu, but the evolution of Luo Binghe and the refusal to let him KEEP evolving inescapably ruined the story for me. He was insufferable, and I kept hoping he would grow and get better, but he just never did.

Look, I simply cannot agree that Luo Binghe did not grow and get better; it just largely happens at the very end of the main story and in the extras. I know anon has missed that, since they missed the more obvious things like Shen Qingqiu being obsessed with Binghe right back and Binghe using the pathetic act to help Shen Qingqiu feel more at ease, so I'll get to that in a bit. But first, I want to make sure we are on the same page about everything before that.

The part of Luo Binghe's arc between the Abyss and the Maigu Ridge is a downward spiral. He's going through the corruption arc, just as the original version of him did; the narrative demands it.

And it's not like 'the narrative' is a nebulous force here; there are literal actors of its will in the story, the System and Xin Mo sword. Like, in particular, the Maigu Ridge sex scene is a perfect example of how those two actors push Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu. The System literally withholds a key item that can help Luo Binghe regain his conscious mind until Shen Qingqiu has sex with him - you know, until the demands of the narrative of a romance story are fulfilled. And Xin Mo literally corrodes Luo Binghe's mind so that he acts like the original version from PIDW, because the truth is, SVSSS Luo Binghe would rather die than actually force himself on Shen Qingqiu. (Binghe's first reaction to seeing what he'd done is to ask "Why didn't you kill me?" and like. understandable. im crying also)

Oh, right, I promised to explain how bad sex is meta, this is a good spot for that. You see, it's a commentary on the 'flawless first time' trope, and also 'sex is a cure' trope. The author posits that two virgins having sex would naturally be awkward and not magically good. And that having sex in a highly stressful situation where one of the parties is not in control of their faculties would naturally be really fucking bad, and also not magically good.

But back to narrative demands. The point is, Luo Binghe simply cannot get better until "the story" ends. He can't heal while the world around him is literally deadset on dragging him down to become a bloodthirsty, sex-obsessed tyrant. The only thing that saves him is Shen Qingqiu managing to get them into the happily ever after zone by the skin of his teeth. There's a reason the main story of the book ends with: "The story circulating through the world might already have ended. But the story between you and me has only just began". 'The story circulating through the world' is the narrative the characters were trapped in; only once it has ended can Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe be allowed to go free, to actually live their lives and be happy. (This novel is very meta, I'm telling you.)

All right, now, back to how Luo Binghe actually did grow and get better! We're almost to the end! I fear to see how long this post is, at this point!

Now, I could be pointing out specific details, like Luo Binghe letting SQQ be brought back to Cang Qiong because he thinks that's what SQQ would want - when his whole breakdown before was about how he couldn't keep SQQ with him. Or I could be reminding you of the second section of this post, and saying that Luo Binghe learning to bypass SQQ's embarrassment by playing cute is actually also character development, even if you didn't like it.

But I think we should go for the heart of the issue. You see, yet another prominent theme in SVSSS is toxic masculinity. It's baked into the setting, with the "original" book our MC transmigrated into being a heterostraight harem novel; it's something our MC struggles with, when his learned toxic behaviors screw over both himself and the person he loves; and - most important to our current topic - it's the chief source of tension within Luo Binghe's character.

Literally, there are even names for two polar axes of his personality in the story: Bing-ge (ge=big brother), coined by in-story fandom to describe original Luo Binghe of PIDW, and Bing-mei (mei=little sister), the nickname SQQ comes up with specifically for "lovesick maiden"-acting Binghe.

"Bing-ge" side, of course, represents toxic masculinity. Extremely obviously in OG!LBH's case, what with him being the protagonist of 'male wish fulfillment and misogyny: the novel', but if you think about it, SV!LBH also demonstrates toxic masc behaviors, starting post-Abyss and up to Maigu Ridge. Noticeably, exactly when he had Xin Mo fucking him up - Xin Mo in general is symbolic of the "original" narrative, pushing SV!LBH to replicate the OG's behavior. And also it's a sword. The symbol of toxic masc version of the narrative is. A sword. RIP Freud you would've loved Scum Villain.

But what does "Bing-mei" stand for, if we detangle it from SQQ's 5D chess with his own sexuality? We know Bing-mei cooks and cleans and gives waist massages. We also know Bing-mei shows affection freely, and isn't embarrassed to cry, and has a sensitive heart. A man who is caring instead of controlling, a man who is not afraid to be vulnerable and emotional... Bing-mei side is meant to represent the healthy / soft masculinity.

And Luo Binghe's arc is rooted in the struggle between healthy and toxic sides of masculinity. What I think is tripping up a lot of people is that he starts at the healthy place, in his "white lotus" days. He is caring, he is affectionate, he shows the full range of emotion.

Then, the world comes for him, and he falls (or, yknow, is pushed) into toxic patterns of behavior. He hides his vulnerability, the only show of emotion he allows himself are outbursts of anger, he tries to control the person he loves... and thus hurts people around him and himself. His breakdown at Maigu Ridge is about thinking he can never be good enough, no matter what he does - see, the very idea that there's some level of achievement that can make a person unequivocally lovable is a toxic masc mindset!..

But the thing is, him breaking down here - admitting that he can't "win", showing the messy, undesirable, emotional side of himself - demonstrating that he can't be the Bing-ge version - is what opens up a path for him to communicate with Shen Qingqiu. Giving him the genuine connection he needed, that Bing-ge could never have. And thus allowing him to destroy the toxic-masculinity-representing sword.

So, the evolution path the author charts out for Luo Binghe from there on is him growing into the healthy masculinity patterns. Starting with, again, putting caring about his partner above controlling him and letting SQQ be brought back to Cang Qiong. Which SQQ didn't actually want, but we've already covered that he's his own kind of freak(affectionate). And continuing to try to do better by SQQ and listen to him (eg the whole SQQ refusing to share a bed and LBH acceding so easily SQQ was left reeling, because he was planning to agree once LBH pushed). And learning that he can show emotion and be validated for it (see Return to Childhood extra with its "if you are unhappy, say so"). And accepting that he doesn't need to be perfect to be loved (the guy faceplanted trying to propose and still got his man...). And, hell - count 'doing his best to learn how to pleasure his partner in bed' with this as well!

So, once again, as a closing note: I simply can't agree that Luo Binghe doesn't grow and evolve. You just have to let go of your preconceived notions of what his character should be like, and learn to see, understand, and appreciate what's there. The same arc Shen Qingqiu, his most faithful reader, goes through.

For a book as meta as SVSSS, that's obviously no coincidence.

[mayaperisic]

From someone who read Azriel’s POV bonus chapter without having read any of the ACOTAR books beforehand:

Couple of months ago I stumbled upon Azriel’s POV bonus chapter and I have no idea how or why because I hadn’t yet started reading the books. I had some basic knowledge of the story and the characters thanks to TikTok and it was probably one of the ship war videos that made me search for the bonus chapter because I was intrigued what the heck was going on that was making everyone go to war over. So, I read the bonus chapter without being influenced by liking one ship or the other, just wanted to see why everyone was fussing over Azriel.

The first part of the bonus chapter with Azriel and Elain made me SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE. I read a lot of smutty books and dark romances so sex talk is not something I shy away from. But the way that scene was written made me physically uncomfortable and not just because of Azriel’s thoughts, but Elain’s behaviour also. I can’t explain it, but both of them felt so cringy. I kept reading because I wanted to understand the fuss over the other part of the bonus chapter but if I had to decide on entering the world of ACOTAR based on that first part I would have thrown it in the trash. Needless to say I was super happy when Rhys interrupted them.

And then came the second part of the bonus chapter with Gwyn and oh my God but what a change. Azriel transformed from a creep (sorry but that was the vibe he was giving me in the beginning) to romance books hero in 2 paragraphs just by changing the scenery and the female protagonist. His scene with Gwyn felt so genuine and warm and just like he felt something restless settling inside him I felt all of the uncomfortable feelings leaving me from the first part of the chapter to give room to this warmth I felt for the 2 of them. And then for me it was pretty obvious that the author was telling the readers: this is his girl. The scene, the way it is written, the words used for the training scene but also at the end in the library, for me it was pretty damn obvious they were gonna be a couple. And then I understood that the first part of the bonus chapter was supposed to make us feel uncomfortable so we could see the contrast with the second part, literally obviously saying: The first girl ain’t it. The second girl is who you should be looking at.

So all of this without having read the books. And no, I’m not lying about it. I’m 27 and have better things to do than make stuff up for a ship war.

And then I read the books and entered the SJM world (TOG, ACOTAR, CC) and I was super confused with all of the E/riel fans and their theories and arguments that made me question whether we read the same books. I saw no ‘build-up for 4 books’ (which he spent mostly in love with Mor), sure little cute moments here and there but without that bonus chapter I would have even said Azriel looked at Elain as a little sister to protect. The bonus chapter only told me he has deep personal trauma to heal. Sorry but the fact that he hadn’t thought about a future with Elain but just sex is no way in hell romantic. So, 4 books of build-up led to, well, that? And the fact that Elain was willing to kiss another guy in the same house where her mate was sleeping (whom she hasn’t rejected yet) doesn’t speak volumes of her either, only that she also has a lot of stuff to deal with.

When Sarah in her interview said that she thought it was pretty obvious about who the next book will be and that she left breadcrumbs in the bonus chapter, for me it was pretty obvious it would be Gwyn and Az (I felt that literally by having read only the bonus chapter before the books). All of their little moments in ACOSF, how Sarah wanted us to pay attention to their reactions to one another, left no room for doubt in my mind, just like I saw it instantly with 2 glances the first time Nessian met, and I felt the chemistry right away.

I could go on ‘till tomorrow but probably should stop here. Just had to write this out of genuine confusion at how people try to deny the obvious (literally what Sarah said) by using theories and arguments that only show they probably haven’t even read ACOSF or other SJM books, because she couldn’t be more obvious than that with her writing.

P.S. This feels the same like when season 1 of The Vampire Diaries aired and I instantly knew Damon and Elena were it. Didn’t even need proof, just had a gut feeling. And Stelena fans then were also aggressively explaining there was no way Delena would be a thing much less endgame, but oh, guess which ship won in the end?

[mwapollo]

hello! quick question about your lore thing (and what would happen after) that you posted on tuesday-

do you believe any of the YHS and EVO stuff is affecting current HC9 Grian in any way? Like, anything he's done so far? Or has he moved on from the memories, the bad things, do you think?

(sorry if this is complicated lol- I'm just honestly curious)

hi! firstly, a big BIG thank you for the question, it absolutely made my day. the thought about someone enjoying the lore to the point where they want to go out of their way to know more warms my heart so much :) secondly, it's all connected. from YHS to HC9 and SL, it is a long story where previous decisions and experiences affect the present. Grian is in a constant growth as a character, so it is likely that YHS and EVO memories don't mean that much (like your memories from 6-8 years ago probably would), but he's human, after all, and we all use our past as a solid base where it comes to our actions and judgments. Grian is an anxious person (it is a fact about cc!Grian revealed by himself, so I think it can be implemented into the lore), and he's got an awful lot of bad experience from his first friendships, so-- in my opinion, it would be hard for him not to worry about his close friends now. it's like an emotional trauma, where the conflict might be gone, but the general view of the world stays. since you might want an example for this... do you remember the whole arc of rivalry with Doc?

the reason why Grian did everything what he did to Doc is because his friendship with Mumbo was involved-- in a very hurtful way. imagine having no good or kind friends in your past, meeting someone like Mumbo, doing everything to keep it all together even through all the tough stuff, wanting to be his one and only best friend and doubting wether you can even be considered one, and then... getting this punch in the face?

Grian was so stressed in this episode. he thought he's ruined everything, it was hard for him to speak after the entrance to Mumbo's base blew up. but he did not say a word about his emotions or his feelings: the only thing he said is that no one can play with their friendship.

you can see that Grian is a reserved person when it comes to emotional bounds, he rarely speaks about it to viewers or -- especially -- to the person directly. the only way to analyze it is through his actions. I think his lack of communication skills in terms of emotions might be something from YHS or EVO, where he swallowed all the bad stuff and hid all his weak spots from others. but he's still very protective of what he might have, and this is the part where everything with 'don't let them push you down' shows.

SORRY FOR MAKING SUCH A LONG ANSWER. I have a feeling that I barely said anything. I only wanted to give you one example of how it might show in the present just to calm your curiosity down a bit, but there is far more of what I can tell about this matter.

I think, either my co-author @bc-jpeg or I will write about S6-9 and Traffic Life SMP's in this lore. stay tuned!

while you're waiting, I recommend: 1. watching LL and LIL POV's from Martyn Inthelittlewood, and then his watchers' lore streams (links: the first, the second). It stems from EVO and it is the main theory for our lore, if you enjoy this nerdy stuff and haven't watched it yet, it is worth it! a lot of content in the fandom is based on it, too. 2. if you enjoy our lore, I suggest reading the otherside disc theory, there is someting about Grian and Mumbo too :)

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Forgotten sorrows

Chapter 3

Fae!Soap X Female Reader

We see things from Soap's perspective as he navigates through his growing feelings.

Warnings: MDNI, suggestive language, dark themes, manipulation, mention of abuse and trauma, MDNI, sorry if I missed any.

I was going to make this alot angstier but I decided to pace myself and do that for the next chapter. This chapter isn't that dark but it still touches up on sensitive topics. The witch best friend makes a brief appearance at the end but I'll definitely be writing alot more of her in the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. This Fae au belongs to @ghouljams I feature alot of their Oc characters in my writing.

Forgotten Sorrows Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 6.3k

Soap's Pov 

"So what are you in the mood for?", Gaz says leaning against someone's car. "A painter?, actor?, writer?, there's a whole buffet layed out for you here, ya lucky bastard", he says keeping his eyes peeled for some sad naive soul to sink his teeth into. 

"Ah'm not too fussed ah just wannae eat"

Soap looks around the festival searching for an easy meal after his latest strings of failed…encounters to put it nicely. Artists these days were so difficult to exploit, it was like beating a dead horse for crumbs. His appetite wasn't what it used to be, even with completed artwork the hunger would return soon after. He needed someone naive and ready to churn out art like their life depended on it. Just so he could feel satiated for a while before finding his next victim. 

"I don't think I'll find much here, but the costumes are funny to rate on their accuracy", Gaz sighs

Soap hums as he locks eyes on a pretty little comical fairy walking in with a theater group. He could hear her voice from here. He watched as she easily got roped into a raffle scam at the entrance as her group walked to the stage. He laughs as she buys several tickets. Probably thinking luck was on her side. This was as good a sign as any to make his entrance. 

Gaz took the hint to go off to do his own thing while Soap went to hunt. Ensnaring her was one of the easiest things he's ever done. A few compliments here, a few longing touches there had her in the palm of his hands in seconds. Her naivety was honestly concerning how unguarded she was in regards to everything. Almost as if she knew she'd be taken care of in the end. But Soap didn't mind, he just wanted to feed. She was all too eager to share her binder of plays and her dreams of them reaching Broadway. She had potential, he'd give her that. She was also very much willing to work herself to the ground to achieve her goals. As well as using any available resources near her. Which was exactly what he was looking for. 

He got his hooks into her before she had to leave to meet her sister and quite a few for that matter. He had more hooks in her than the minutes he spent talking to her. But that just meant he could consume her in a shorter period of time. He kept an eye on her to make sure no other Fae tried to take what was his. It was then that he saw you working your little stall with all sorts of art pieces cluttering your display. You had a pleasant air about you, something very comforting. He saw you fret over your sister's naivety and try to school her in basic knowledge. You had a glint in your beautiful eyes. One that he rarely saw anymore. He could feel the love and intent behind each one of your pieces as if you made them with specific people in mind. People who needed love, people who needed care. The pieces attracted those who lacked in those aspects and you sold them with gratitude. He was so occupied with you he didn't realise his little pink fairy had left. But he couldn't stop himself from watching you from afar. There was just something off about you. Like you were cloaked in an imaginary veil. Like your true self was hidden. Gaz had brought Ghost for a chat after meeting him while exploring, with Love, Liebling and Konig trailing behind with food in their hands. Liebling kept her distance with Konig shielding her from Soap's view and vice versa. The whole time talking to them he couldn't keep his sights away from you for more than a couple seconds. Everyone seemed to have noticed. Gaz made a passing remark about him burning through his artists like cigarettes. 

Love had a mischievous look in her eyes and wanted to investigate whether to tease Soap at a later date or just to mess up his chances with his new artist, so she dragged Ghost with Konig and Liebling trailing behind to go look at the stall and get more information. Soap watched from afar to see what she was up to, not trusting her unpredictable behaviour. He often wondered how Ghost dealt with her, but was also jealous he found a life partner before him. It was actually unbelievable if he thought about it. Ghost had been alone for years refusing any interaction with humans unless it had to do with him feeding. It took Soap a really long time to get Ghost to consider him an acquaintance let alone a friend. But he decided not to dwell on his relationships right now, he was more concerned with what Love was about to do with you. He already had your sister in his grasp; so he wasn't planning on pursuing you as of yet. Maybe not ever. He just found you intriguing, he tried to convince himself.

He saw you tense up the second they were in a miles radius from you. Like a switch had flipped sending you into fight, flight or freeze mode. You definitely froze at the first glimpse you got of Ghost like a deer in headlights. You recovered quickly and put back on a professional smile while trying to keep calm. It was entertaining seeing you tremble as you painted Love's portrait as Ghost kept his eyes on you. It was even funnier when that seer approached your stand with her giant of a boyfriend trailing behind her like a love sick puppy after Ghost had showed off the portrait you painted. You looked like you wanted to run and hide or possibly faint but kept up appearances. You were smart and never thanked them, it seemed like you had some knowledge in regards to interacting with Fae. You held yourself with grace even in difficult situations, it was admirable for a human. Most would have ran away. Getting hooks in you would prove to be difficult, he thought. So your sister will have to do, to satiate his growing hunger.

He found his little pink fairy at the food stall and offered to buy her snacks while he continued to chat her up. A little longer goes by and he feels that same pleasant air he felt watching you, this time much closer. He sees you looking around and finally setting your eyes on your sister who was eating up every last word he was saying to her. You approach out of breath panting. And your sister introduces him to you while she continues to chat to him but he wasn't paying attention. He couldn't take his eyes off you, even though he tried. He thought you were pretty from afar but seeing you close up was a whole different story. All kinds of unholy thoughts were running through his dirty mind. He couldn't help himself picturing you beneath him in your current state with a flushed expression and out of breath. Moaning and begging him for his touch, his lips, his tongue. He caught your not so subtle stare at his lips which he smirked at seeing you get even more embarrassed.

He saw you hurriedly introduce yourself before your sister could give out your name. Faoi Rún? translating to confidential in Irish, he smirks at your antics. Just Rún had many translations but he assumed you meant a 'secret', when you told him to address you as such. Weren't you a pretty little smart ass he thought. Maybe you needed a lesson in manners. One he'd be more than happy to provide. Picturing you bent over his lap squirming trying to escape as he paints your ass different shades of colours, while you whimper and cry for him to stop. He could feel blood rushing to his cock, he needed to quickly navigate his thinking elsewhere. So he settled on asking you some questions. 

You were quick and concise with anything you answered not giving any room for follow ups. The complete opposite of your sister who liked sharing every detail under the sun about herself and her work. It only took him a couple of minutes at the start before he had gotten her full name. He saw you chew your lips as you were deep in thought, probably thinking of a way to get rid of him. He could see the weariness in your eyes and the fear. Like you already knew what he was about to attempt to do. It didn't matter though once he successfully isolated his victims away from friends and family it was an easy game to play. You'd get fed up eventually and stop trying to keep in contact, leaving your sister to be consumed by him. And he might just be able to get some hooks in you when you're grieving her loss.  Humans don't really think rationally when in pain or distress. A lot of great artwork is fuelled by sadness and grief so he might be in for a treat.

He left with your sister on that day, he thought about seducing her further but honestly he didn't even need to. She was one of the most gullible people he's ever met. She would believe anything he said and just feed off the compliments he gave her. Isolating her from her friends was fairly easy; they stopped trying to get in touch about two weeks in. He'd make her spend the majority of her time with him and ignore everyone else. You on the other hand didn't give up so easily. Which he wasn't too concerned about as long as you kept your distance. He'd pour his inspiration into your sister causing her to have manic episodes of hours or even days of just writing. She had already fed him 5 short plays, 3 skits and was working on a screenplay, this was 4 weeks in. He was satisfied with the way things were going until you showed up at her door. 

He was honestly vexed when he first saw you come in. It was a bad look for him considering your sister had just collapsed from exhaustion. And he was coincidentally there when her whole house was a mess. He couldn't really talk his way out of his involvement in the matter so he stayed silent after your initial outburst. Not really hiding his anger. You would have seen past it anyway, with being on high alert and all. Charming you would be even harder with your knowledge regarding Fae. So he stood by and watched you seethe in anger at him for the first few minutes. You were really protective of your sister, much to his annoyance. You eventually focused on cleaning away her apartment as quietly as possible not wanting to disturb her. He could see the worry and love radiating off you. He found you furrowing your brows and biting your lips quite often mumbling your frustration to yourself. He wanted to brush his fingers over your lower lip to relieve the pain you were causing yourself. He watched your body mesmerized by its movement wanting to pin you against the wall and make you tremble with his touch. Make you forget everything but him, causing pretty tears to stream down your face as the pleasure overwhelms you. Conjuring your warm body in his mind, pinned and tied to the bed, begging him in a soft voice to stop teasing you. Trailing his rough fingers across your sensitive skin, kissing and biting your neck leaving hickies and bruises in his wake. He didn't even bother hiding the fact he wanted to devour you. Maybe it would scare you off or even better if it would cause a rift in your relationship with your sister. If she viewed it as you trying to seduce him. He could definitely use his tenthers to sway her emotions to his side and convince her that you wanted to have him for yourself. He would catch you looking back at him wearily from time to time. He wanted to know so badly what those pretty eyes were hiding. But he needed to get a hold of himself. He needed to get you out of his head if he wanted to finish what he started. Maybe a brain be gone would help keep you away for a while until he finished up with her or he could go the more complicated route to create conflict between you two. The idea didn't seem so bad. He wanted to watch you break so badly, then finally put you back together piece by piece. 

He enjoyed watching you in a domestic setting, you milling around trying to get things in order. It was almost endearing if it wasn't for the fact you were interrupting his meal. As much as he wanted you, he wasn't in the mood to complicate what he had started. Your sisters was a sure meal, you on the other hand needed more time and finessing to obtain. He was tired of difficult prey especially after not receiving sustenance even after putting so much work into them. Nothing was fulfilling enough anymore, the hunger never leaves him. He wondered what his soul was yearning for if not art?

He watches you enter your sister's room as you go to gently arouse her from her sleep. You come back into the kitchen a little while later to set up the table. He fully expected you to tell him to leave since he wasn't welcome or needed here but to his surprise you set the table for three without saying a word. Your movements had care and intent behind them almost everything you do did. You set up a nice array of food and set it out on the table after heating it. Your sister had just entered then taking his attention away from you. He had to put up an act again, to present himself as the ever caring love interest not that there was any love involved. But he fawned over her making her believe he cared for her wellbeing which served to annoy you further. As your sister tried to convince you that it wasn't his fault she wasn't taking care of herself. You had offered the meal freely to him, though a bit reluctantly. Causing something warm to bloom in his stomach. He watched you take care of your sister to make sure she was well fed and hydrated while glancing at him from time to time. He found your care refreshing, he could tell you wanted to make sure he too was enjoying the meal you had provided even though you tried to act nonchalantly. He almost felt bad about his plan to ruin your sister and possibly your own life….almost. 

He had left soon after the dinner, sensing your glare. He ignored the Fae working at the front desk considering they were weak and harmless. They may have cowered slightly as he left the building. He smoked patiently on the side waiting for you to come out. He watched on as you finally did, blowing hot air into the chilly night. You were on edge for some reason and quickly made your way to your car. He realised why as you were pressed up against the car door by a boggart. Pesky creatures they were if you allowed yourself to feel fear that is. But you seemed determined to escape, maybe this would scare you enough from leaving your house for a while which would solve his own problem without him getting involved. But then he saw that thing trying to grab and undress you and everything turned red. Like a blood moon rising. His rage manifested around him like smoke and cobwebs. He was at the scene before he could stop himself. All he could think about was ripping that thing a new one. You had managed to throw it to the ground and stomp on its groin as he came into view. Your trembling, your scared face, your disgust at the creature fuelled him further to step on its neck as you watched in horror. But he didn't want to give it an easy death, no that would be unfair, that thing needed to learn a lesson. A lesson on not touching things that belonged to him. He leaned down to manifest the most blood curdling nightmarish vision he could conjure to plant in its mind. Its mouth opened in a silent scream from the pain and horror, as Soap snapped its neck before it could make any noise.

He watched as your mind descended into hell as you watched him approach after killing that monster. He saw you close your eyes in fear thinking he'd hurt you next. But how could he? Especially when you were trembling like a little wounded animal. Your breathing becoming labored and erratic. He cupped your face. His anger was still present but it wasn't directed at you; no it was directed at him for not being able to keep his emotions in check. For wanting to hold and comfort you while you trembled in his arms. But he needed to assert his dominance to make you fear him. That's exactly what he tried to do after getting you to open your eyes and made sure you weren't seriously hurt. He didn't want you thinking he cared for you in any sense. It backfired though because all fear seemed to evaporate from your body when he mentioned your sister. Your face grew stern and your backbone straightened. You looked like you were about to claw at his face so he decided to tap your mind away before you could try. He grabbed you as you passed out bringing you back to your condo. Surprisingly he was let in even with the Rowan branch hanging from your door, maybe because he wished you no harm in that moment he just wanted you to mind your own business and stop interfering with his food source. 

He placed you gently on the bed and was about to leave when he came across your work room. He couldn't help but enter. You had many unfinished projects lying around but the ones that were finished almost felt like they were brimming with life and emotions. He traced his fingers on your recent paintings, they all conveyed a similar emotion, the pursuit of knowledge, a need to discover and unearth, a desire to learn and grow. He felt it in each brushstroke, your emotions were so embedded within it was hard to look away. But he managed to come to his senses and left to go back home, not before glancing at your sleeping form one last time. He needed to come up with a backup plan if you decided to remain a thorn in his side. 

And a thorn you remained. He had received a text in the afternoon from Love when you had entered that seer's shop with your sister who had many of his recognizable hooks in her. In comparison to you who had absolutely no hooks at all. It was odd the first time he had noticed. He had chalked it up to you being a sink (as in a person with no magic so tethers just slipped off you) but that wasn't accurate since he did feel some magic from you just not alot. Maybe you were just an odd little human who didn't like being tethered.

Love said something along the lines of his food being taken away by an odd fae with magic that was a little all over the place. He wondered what Fae had the gall to try to take what was his. The description matched you. Which seemed ridiculous, he had just met you yesterday you had absolutely no trace of fae magic on you. Love may have just texted to annoy him. But his brain be gone didn't work if you were with your sister. Thinking back on it now you were wearing your Rowan choker so that may have been the reason why it didn't work. He was foolish to ignore that but again he wasn't thinking straight that night. You had a way with consuming his thoughts. He needed to see for himself what the situation was. You were becoming more and more difficult to deal with. He might have to resort to more hostile methods to get you to leave. So he texted your sister to meet so he could get the situation under control again. 

He sees you from afar as he walks into the park. There's definitely magic in the air around you. Your magic was indeed all over the place; most likely governed by your emotions it seemed. Even Fae children were taught to control their magic better than you. After you started setting up the picnic blanket in a relatively secluded area, the air around you seemed to calm down. You probably felt safer away from people's watchful eyes. Soap didn't understand though, how you were able to go from hiding your magic completely to having zero control over it now. The only explanation would be if you had purposely hid your identity and now whatever magic you used wasn't working anymore. At least your appearance was mostly human so no one would be alarmed if they saw you in Fae form. He watched you with curiosity as you didn't seem to notice him approaching. You were too occupied with the arrangement of the food and your sister ignoring your questions to feel eyes roaming your body. Only when you heard his voice did you turn around to glare at him as your sister went to hug him. All the warmth and love you had held a second ago vanished. The magic in the air spiked as your emotional state because somewhat unstable.

"Ye put in quite th' effort 'ere", he says dodging your sister smoothly once he sees the iron ring on her finger a gift from you most likely. You just glare up at him as he smirked seeing your discomfort at his arrival. Your sister goes on about getting to know each other better which you ignore as your continued glaring. You clearly weren't happy to see him as you look at your sister for answers.

"This was supposed to be a picnic for the two of us", you whisper to your sister. She just shrugs saying the more people the better, and that she wanted you to get to know her boyfriend better. Though he didn't remember ever saying that they were official, but didn't bother to correct her since it served to annoy you further. For the next few minutes you didn't say anything while you continued to unpack the picnic as your sister swooned over Soaps every last word. You were trying desperately to keep your magic in check not wanting to draw more unwanted attention. The bitter taste of betrayal was sitting on your tongue but you didn't want to say anything to ruin this picnic with your sister so you stayed quiet. 

Once everything was layed out your sister eagerly offered Soap some sandwiches and juice saying she put a lot of effort in making them. He caught the lie immediately but feigned ignorance. There was no trace of her care in the sandwiches or snacks. He could only feel yours as you continued to look busy getting your sketchbook out. He didn't want to get accidentally hooked to you by eating the food you made so said he wasn't all that hungry and he just wanted to spend time with your sister. Which caught your attention. 

"We don't put a price or repayment on food, eat freely, my sister would feel upset if you denied her hospitality", you say devoid of emotions very deep in thought. 

"Please eat something, I worked so hard to prepare all this", she says, scooting closer to him trying to graze his arm with the hand that had the iron ring on it. He moved away swiftly avoiding contact.

"Sorry lass, ah have ae nasty iron allergy, can't have ye touchin' me with that ring on".

She didn't even question what he said before she was slipping that ring off. "Oh! My bad! Let me take it off right now", you look at your sister with shock as you subconsciously rub the fingers you had used to put on the iron ring her. How could she just believe everything he said so easily!? Soap smirks at your reaction. You watch as your sister goes to offer him food again as she moves even closer to him. Not knowing what else to do you place your yellow primroses at the center of the picnic blanket where everyone could smell the sweet scent. The smell reached Soaps nose and he felt a headache coming on but he kept his composure as everyone ate and enjoyed the picnic. The smell paired with your sister's non stop talking was chipping away at his composure. He was finding it difficult to maintain his loving persona. He glanced at you while maintaining a tedious conversation with your sister who just wanted to talk about her prospects in becoming famous from her writing, also expressing interest in writing movies scripts. He smiled and nodded as you caught his gaze on you. You seemed on edge with your magic swirling around you as good as an indicator. You looked at him wearily waiting for something to happen or maybe for him to drop his mask. You glanced around the park gauging the danger he could possibly pose in public, probably thinking he wouldn't do much with so many people around. Which you were right about, he wasn't going to cause a scene in public. You were still on edge about your last encounter with him. 

"I'm going to go over there for a bit to sketch", you tell your sister who was practically burrowing herself into Soap's side. She just nods as she continues to talk to Soap. You make your way towards a bunch of wild flowers as Soap watches your figure leave. He couldn't stand her talking anymore and that smell of the primroses was getting nauseating. He needed to get away for a bit to gain some sanity back. So he buttered up your sister with compliments and inspiration and told her to write down a couple of scenes she wanted to include in the screenplay she was writing. She immediately went into a daze getting out her notebook to write whatever was coming into her mind. Soap slipped away a little bit later when she was too occupied to notice his absence. 

He scanned the area wondering where you wandered off to. He saw you crouched down to the level of a small group of children who were probably asking you to draw something for them. You had a gentle smile on your face as you drew whatever the kids asked for, as soap watched. He slowly approached, not wanting to disturb your little moment. You had your guard down smiling to yourself as you drew. The air around was light and your magic seemed to swirl around you and the children affectionately. He has never seen you smile so gently, definitely not at him anyway. He was right behind you as you handed the last drawing to a little child who just happened to be a Fae. The child smiled at you and handed you a stone with a hole in it. You tried saying you didn't require a gift in exchange for the drawing but the child insisted and ran off to go play with their friends before you could protest. Soap watched you turn the rock in your hand inspecting it. Your magic was still swirling around you, it had an almost childlike innocence to it. Soap couldn't help but reach out and feel it run through his fingers. You jolted when you felt him touch your magic and stood up abruptly turning around to face him. Your gentle smile was gone and you were on high alert again. You eyed his wearily wondering why he had followed you. 

"It's ae hagstone", he says pointing to the rock in your hand. You look at it and lift it up to your eye and see if you can see anything different from the hole. You watch the children in the distance but nothing changes. You can only gather fleeting glimpses of peculiarity nothing different from your eyesight now. Soaps eyes you with curiosity wondering why you'd bother looking through the stone when all Fae have the sight to see the otherworld. Though you didn't come across as any other typical Fae. You didn't have hooks. Not even small ones. You gave things too freely for it to be considered normal. Even if you had lived mostly as a human for god knows how long. Most human he knew as least let tethers hook into them when they do someone a favour or give someone a gift. You wouldn't even allow that. Not every tether was meant to be repaid or cashed in. They often just served as a bond of trust between two people. Something you lacked. Your scent and magic operated slightly differently as well from normal Fae. It was very much dominant on your emotional state. Your scent had changed the second Soap had touched your magic. It went from a light sweet scent, like freshly baked goods to something a lot more dense, something a lot darker but the sweetness didn't completely leave. There was something intoxicating about the smell of your arousal and fear mixed together which had him leaning into the air around you, while you were distracted by the rock. You turned to look at Soap again when you felt his breath on your neck. A shiver ran down your spine bringing back the naughty thoughts you had when you first met him. You refuse to meet his eyes not wanting to fall into a rabbit hole of hedonistic thoughts.

"Fae don't need that tae see….something wrong with yer eyes?". 

You don't respond as you put the rock in one of your pockets and make your way towards the wild flowers again. He follows you waiting for you to respond which you weren't going to do. You were still on edge but it was controlled now. Soap could see you trying to keep your composure as he watched you sketch the wildflowers, stopping to inspect them sometimes. You crouched down beside them as you take a closer look at the flower petals trying to understand their texture. Soap watches you with intrigue as he sees you imbed your emotions into every line on the paper. 

"Say, why don't we make an exchange?". You look at him confused as he crouches down beside you. 

"Ah will give ye some valuable info in exchange fur a drawing?"

"Valuable to whom?", you fire back. 

"Ye'll find out once ye know", he gives you his best boyish smirk. 

"I'll pass", you say standing up to move away from him. But he grabs your arm pulling you back towards him. You collide with his chest as he holds you close by your arms. He looks into your eyes deeply feeling your breath on his face as you look up at him shocked. All he could think about in that moment was smashing his lips onto your. Consuming the breath within your lungs as he pulled you against his body. But he knew you'd never give in so easily to him, so he controlled his urges. You two stay like that for a bit until he grabs you a little tighter when you try to escape his hold. 

"Don't do that Bonnie", he says rubbing your arms up and down making you shiver from the unfamiliar touch. "Ah just haven't had a decent meal in a while, nae tae say yer sandwiches weren't lovely, they're just nae what ah typically feed aff", he says almost seeming innocent. 

"Think o' it as feeding the ducks" he smiles genuinely down at you. 

You gently pull away from him contemplating what he said. You could never refuse feeding someone when it was well within your means. You'd betray yourself if you did. You turn to a new page in your sketchbook thinking of what to draw. When a funny idea popped into your head. You draw a duck with a surprising likeness to him. You draw him with his signature mohawk feeding on a baguette. As you're finishing up the drawing you can't help but laugh to yourself at the absurdity of the drawing you were about to give him. Soap watches hold in a laugh as you draw, your walls not so high anymore. It was nice seeing you in this state. He wanted to see what you'd give him without him having to pour inspiration into you. He watches you move your pencil with intent and purpose creating something solely for him. You gingerly hand him the drawing when you were done trying to hide a mischievous smile on your face as you look at his reaction. 

He takes the drawing not feeling any hooks imbed into him. You really were an anomaly. A hearty chuckle leaves his mouth as he finally looks at what you've given him. It was him in duck form chomping away at a baguette. You took his comment literally it seems. It's definitely the first time someone had drawn him in duck form, usually they prefer to draw his handsome face or toned body. He liked your mischievous side, it just gave him more incentive to want to 'punish' you. You smiled at his reaction thinking you did a good job at catching him off guard. Something warm settled in his stomach the longer he looked at the comical drawing. And seeing you smiled just made everything so much better. 

"It's no Van Gogh but ah will gratefully accept it", he smiles to himself enjoying the moment. 

The air suddenly shifts and your mood takes a sudden dip. Soap feels the change as he looks up from the paper. Your eyes are trained on your sister who is writing feverishly, you turn back towards him with hurt written on your face. Which you quickly mask with anger. The moment you two were sharing was quickly ruined. 

"Let her go, I've already fed you", you say, keeping your voice eerily calm. But your magic was ready to attack him any second. You felt stupid for letting your guard down, especially knowing what kind of Fae he was. The air had shifted back to being that of anger and mistrust. Soap felt a sense of loss at the warmth he was just feeling a moment ago. He retreated back into his other persona, one that usually was very effective at putting fear in people.  He put on a nonchalant air about himself as he simply nodded. 

"Ah suppose ye'r right, ah will let her go today since ye wur so kind tae feed me", he says while withdrawing his magic from your sister. 

You don't say anything else as you make your way towards her, she stops writing when you approach her and ask her if she's ok. She nods and says she just had a burst of inspiration she had to use to write down things for her screenplay. Soap not wanting to cause further tension decided to leave without saying goodbye to either of you. He tucked in the precious piece of paper he held into his jacket as he walked off. You watch him leave as your sister comes out of her daze. She immediately asks where he went and you tell her he had a personal emergency and had to leave. And that he had probably said goodbye to her but she might have not noticed it when she was in her 'writing zone'. She simply nods as you pack up the picnic and walk her back to her apartment. You ended up giving her the primroses telling her you forgot you didn't have any balcony room to keep more plants so it would be better if she kept them at her place. She was happy to receive the sweet smelling flower as you left to go back to your place. 

You get home and unpack all your groceries as you decide what to bake for your best friend when you go visit her in an hour or two. You settle on blueberry muffins and go about your kitchen gathering ingredients. The baking served to calm you after your long stressful day. It took your mind off everything else as you focused solely on what you were doing. With the muffins in the oven you move toward the little gift you had bought your best friend, she would never let you pay for the tea or other things she would give you so you'd just leave her little gifts whenever you'd go to visit. This time you had found high quality saffron at the local spice shop. You thought it would come in handy in her spells if not she could use it in her cooking. You go to get some wrapping paper and ribbon to make the container look pretty and presentable. Once everything is done you pack the muffins away as you make your way to your car. 

The drive over was relatively short since she didn't live too far away. But for some reason you felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt and sadness take over you. You stood at the front gate frozen for a few seconds not sure what to do anymore. The day was extremely taxing, especially trying to keep your magic in check. It was around four pm and the sun was still shining and the autumn leaves were swaying on the ground. You entered through the iron gate closing it behind you brushing off the slight sting. The wards engulfed you in an instant, like a warm hug from a loved one. Tears began streaming down your face uncontrollably. You finally felt safe again, not realising you were in flight or fight mode all this time. A warm feeling settled in your chest letting you know everything was going to be ok. You walk towards her front door on shaky legs. You knock twice waiting for her to open the door. You hear movement around the cottage and finally hear the door unlatch. She stares at you shocked, not expecting you to show up with red teary eyes. You stand a bit awkwardly trying to calm your tears as you hold up the container with muffins in it. 

"I brought you muffins", you say shyly wiping your tears away. She just stares for a second trying to comprehend the situation that was unfolding in front of her. 

"Your seal broke", she says finally ushering you in. 

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2023. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[fanby-fckry]

One Man’s Romcom is Another Man’s Psychological Horror

Day 4 of Ace Alastor Week: Date Night

Word Count: 3,062

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Warnings: Second-Hand Embarrassment, Violence, Stabbing, Hand Trauma, Implied/Referenced Stalking

Relationships: Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Vox (Hazbin Hotel)

Characters: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Vox (Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags: Not Canon Compliant, you can’t prove it didn’t happen (but it probably didn’t), Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Crack, Crack Treated Somewhat Seriously, Genre Clash, Romantic Comedy, Psychological Horror, Angst and Humor, Angst, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Bad Ending, POV Alternating, Unreliable Narrator, Unreliable Narrator Times 2, (seriously they both have such a skewed view of things), One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, One-Sided Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Aromantic Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Romance-Repulsed Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Touch-Averse Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Deer Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being an Idiot (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Out of Character Vox (Hazbin Hotel), (maybe? idk honestly), Bisexual Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Bisexual Disaster Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Incel Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Vox Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Vox is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Misunderstandings, First Dates, Awkward Dates, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Conversations

Series: Part 4 of Fanby’s Ace Alastor Week 2024 ( <- Prev || Next -> )

Summary:

*A*

Vox had proposed a business meeting, the following Friday at seven.

To which Alastor replied, “Splendid! It’s a date!”

Vox’s screen went fuzzy. Ha! It was always very entertaining to watch his reactions to Alastor’s attention. Something so small as accepting an invitation to a meeting was enough to elicit a malfunction. What fun!

“It’s a date,” Vox repeated.

Alastor smiled at him. What an idiot.

*V*

“Szz-seven,” Vox sputtered.

“Splendid!” Alastor replied.

And then he said three words that just about fried Vox’s circuitry.

“It’s a date.”

Vox’s vision blurred around the edges, tunneling until all he could see was Alastor’s smiling face.

He’d fumbled the invitation, made it sound like just another fucking business meeting. And yet, Alastor… Alastor still…

“It’s a date,” Vox repeated.

Alastor smiled at him fondly. Vox thought he might be in love.

*

Vox asks Alastor out on a date; Alastor says yes to a business meeting. Vox’s romcom quickly turns into Alastor’s psychological horror.

Better on AO3

Author’s Notes:

This was meant to be a comedy of errors and somehow turned into a combination romcom/psychological horror. Oops.

I’m sorry to everyone in the poll who voted for this thinking it was going to be all humor. This just kinda… happened.

Set sometime in the late 60’s or early 70’s.

I’m not sure whether or not I wrote Vox OOC. You guys know I love playing with baby Overlords because it gives me an opportunity to write them as more insecure and less stable, and that’s exactly what I did. DLDR and all that jazz.

The bad ending tag is there because Alastor goes final girl on Vox’s ass. Don’t worry, though, nobody gets seriously physically hurt. Just their feelings and their pride.

Alastor sat, back straight, smile strained, through what was turning out to be one of the most awkward nights of his life. And not even the fun kind of awkward!

There was something called second-hand embarrassment that Alastor did not seem to suffer from, as he typically found the social ineptitudes of others to be hilarious – but this was about as close as he’d ever come to relating to the term.

Vox was making a fool of himself. And rather than being entertained, Alastor just felt… Odd.

Alastor sighed. He wondered where it had all gone wrong. After all, it started off simply enough…

*A*

Vox had proposed a business meeting, the following Friday at seven.

To which Alastor replied, “Splendid! It’s a date!”

Vox’s screen went fuzzy. Ha! It was always very entertaining to watch his reactions to Alastor’s attention. Something so small as accepting an invitation to a meeting was enough to elicit a malfunction. What fun!

“It’s a date,” Vox repeated.

Alastor smiled at him. What an idiot.

*V*

It was a simple plan. Start a conversation with Alastor. Ask Alastor for a date. Take Alastor out on a date. Real simple.

So naturally, Vox managed to fuck it up.

“Do you wanna… maybe… get dinner sometime?”

Alastor cocked his head to the side. Fuck, why did he have to be so cute? Vox was already tripping over his words, his speakers glitching from the anticipation of finally asking Alastor out. Those little deer-like motions were going to make him short out!

“Dinner?” Alastor sounded vaguely amused.

Vox felt something surge. He wasn’t sure what.

“Yeah, dinner,” Vox repeated. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, feeling less and less sure of himself by the second.

Focus, focus, focus! he berated himself. Stick to the script!

Vox smiled as confidently as he could manage. “There’s this really nice new steakhouse right on the edge of my territory, and they keep a table open for me on Friday nights.”

In reality, Vox had reserved that table three weeks in advance. But the idea that the restaurant respected/feared their new Overlord enough to offer him a standing reservation unprompted sounded much more impressive.

“I could take you as my plus one.”

Alastor hummed and tapped a single red claw against his chin. “And why would I want to be your plus one?” he asked coldly.

Ouch. Good thing Vox didn’t need a heart anymore, because it felt like Alastor had just ripped it out of his chest.

Vox suppressed the instinctual sound effect that came with the feeling and tried to push past it.

“I just thought we could…” his voice came out stilted and wavery. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “We could talk… and stuff…”

Alastor seemed more interested in his own nails than in the conversation.

Fuck, Vox thought. I’m losing him!

Vox laughed to cover his discomfort. “It’d be like… a business meeting… but with food!”

No, no, no!

Alastor’s smile widened. “A business meeting with food,” he parroted.

Kill me, Vox thought. “Yeah. That’s… what I said.” Put me out of my fucking misery.

“Hm.” Alastor paused for an agonizing moment, then shrugged and said, “Sure, why not?”

Vox perked up immediately. “Really?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Alastor laughed. “Yes, really! What time, Friday?”

“Szz-seven,” Vox sputtered.

“Splendid!” Alastor replied.

And then he said three words that just about fried Vox’s circuitry.

“It’s a date.”

Vox’s vision blurred around the edges, tunneling until all he could see was Alastor’s smiling face.

He’d fumbled the invitation, made it sound like just another fucking business meeting. And yet, Alastor… Alastor still…

“It’s a date,” Vox repeated.

Alastor smiled at him fondly. Vox thought he might be in love.

*A*

Vox insisted on picking Alastor up from his radio tower and driving them both to the restaurant.

Alastor had laughed when he first suggested it, thinking it was a joke. Afterall, it was hardly necessary. Alastor’s powers involved not one but two means of magical transportation that far exceeded the abilities of even the latest and greatest modern automobile.

But Vox wouldn’t budge!

When Alastor asked him why, he’d lowered his big block of a head and muttered something about how it was, ‘more romantic that way.’

Alastor had no idea what that had to do with anything. But in the end, he acquiesced. The whole thing was Vox’s idea, after all. Might as well let him handle the transportation.

*V*

Today was the day. Vox had everything set up. He double and triple checked the reservations – and bribed the waitstaff to play along with his little white lie – cleaned his car, practiced driving the route from Alastor’s tower to the restaurant, and most importantly, bought Alastor flowers.

He’d waffled on the flowers for a while. He didn’t wanna come on too strong – roses felt like more of a third date thing – but he also didn’t want it to seem like he got something cheap or generic.

In the end, he settled on red tulips and rhododendrons – red was definitely Alastor’s favorite color – with some white candytufts to break up all the red.

Vox arrived at Alastor’s tower at 6:26 pm and knocked on the door at 6:29. That would leave two minutes for Alastor to open the door, three minutes for conversation, one for Vox to escort him to the car, and still let them reach the restaurant with a minute to spare.

Alastor opened the door. He was wearing his usual coat and suit – which was fine! Nobody was going to enforce dresscode on the fucking Radio Demon. Vox had dressed up, though. Oh fuck, was he overdressed?

Vox panicked. He thrust the bouquet in Alastor’s direction and said something that sort of resembled the words, “For you.”

Alastor took the bouquet. The bouquet promptly wilted.

“Thank you!” Alastor said, and casually threw the wilted bouquet aside.

“Involuntary phytokinesis!” Alastor explained. “Flowers don’t agree with my powers.”

“Oh.” Vox rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Apology accepted, my friend!” Alastor clapped Vox on the shoulder. “Well, let’s get a move on! Shake a leg, old pal!”

Alastor pushed past Vox and headed towards the car. Vox followed closely behind, resisting the urge to curse under his breath.

This was not how he’d expected things to go.

*A*

The ride to the restaurant was unsettling in a way Alastor couldn’t quite put his finger on.

It wasn’t the automobile or the road or the pedestrians that were the trouble. No, it was the driver. It was Vox.

Something was off about him. How queer.

*V*

They arrived at the restaurant right on schedule. Vox pushed past the crowd of various lesser demons to get to the host station. Alastor watched, clearly in awe of the confidence and power he exuded.

*A*

Vox rudely pushed his way through the demons waiting their turn to speak to the maître d’. Alastor curled his upper lip in disgust, appalled by Vox’s terrible manners.

*V*

Vox flashed the maître d’ a smile. “Table for two.”

“Your usual table awaits, sir,” the maître d’ lied. “Right this way.” He bowed his head, showing Vox and Alastor due respect as Overlords, and led them to their table.

It was the best seat in the house, Vox had made sure of it. Far enough from the kitchens and bathrooms to avoid excess foot traffic or unpleasant smells, close enough to the grand piano to get the full effect of the music without it drowning out their conversation.

The table was set for two, complete with romantic candle light. It was perfect.

Vox pulled out a chair for Alastor – only to have him sit in the opposite seat.

Vox short circuited.

*A*

Vox pulled out a chair for himself. Alastor sat in the seat across from him.

Then, for some unknown reason, Vox froze. Something misfired in that big, square head of his. Alastor laughed.

“I meant to do that,” Vox said, once he regained what little sense he had, and sat down.

“Of course.” Alastor folded his hands in his lap. He smiled as he watched Vox awkwardly fiddle with his silverware.

Vox seemed to be returning to his natural state – insecurities covered by a thin veneer of false confidence which bordered on arrogance, with a deliciously desperate, easily exploitable thirst for attention that couldn’t be hidden no matter what measures the poor man attempted to take.

Good. Whatever that other thing was had started to become… unnerving.

*V*

Vox kept his head down for a while, feigning interest in the silverware while trying to get his shit together.

He was on a date with Alastor. He’d planned the date down to the letter. Nothing was going according to plan.

Vox stole glances at Alastor whenever he dared to lift his gaze.

The candlelight cast Alastor in a warm glow, his eyes a dazzling ruby red. The shadows around him danced – whether from the flickering of the flame or the nature of Alastor’s powers, Vox didn't know. He looked… He looked beautiful.

Vox decided to tell him so.

*A*

With Vox acting more like his usual self, Alastor turned his attention to the menu.

He didn’t suppose they had Sinner meat on the menu – and little more than a cursory glance confirmed his suspicions. Oh well! He was sure to find a cut of meat he’d enjoy.

And besides, he preferred to be selective when it came to sourcing once sentient meat. He’d rather make the kill, himself, or procure it from another cannibal whose tastes he trusted, like Rosie, than order from an establishment he knew next to nothing about.

Speaking of which, the restaurant actually seemed quite tasteful. Live music in the form of a vulpine Sinner playing a grand piano, tasteful decor and fine architecture. Alastor hoped that the food would live up to the atmosphere.

Hm, he’d better get back to the menu. He wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared when their server arrived.

Alastor was just barely aware of the fact that Vox was paying more attention to him than to his own menu, but that really wasn’t any of Alastor’s concern. In fact, it would be rather entertaining to watch Vox scramble to choose a dish last minute.

“You look beautiful,” Vox blurted out, completely unprompted.

Alastor’s ears swiveled in Vox’s direction, but he didn’t deign to take his eyes off the menu. “I look exactly like I always do, Vox.”

“And you’re always beautiful.”

That time, Alastor’s eyes flicked up on their own accord. He felt his ears stand up straighter, and his tail – of all things! – attempt to flip upwards, prevented from doing so by the way he’d tucked it firmly beneath his clothes.

Alastor hummed his acknowledgement and returned to his menu.

So much for Vox being his usual self. What the hell was he on about?

*V*

Vox didn’t need to read the menu. He’d already memorized his order for tonight, down to the last detail. And he’d also chosen Alastor’s. Ordering for your date was a great way to impress them by showing off your confidence and your intimate knowledge of their preferences.

*A*

By the time the server – a lioness Sinner with a sparse mane; Leyonarda, according to her nametag – arrived at their table, Alastor had chosen a drink and an appetizer, and was well on his way to deciding what he would have for the main course.

Vox had apparently also decided, despite barely glancing at the menu. Well, if he had a standing reservation, perhaps he already had a signature order.

Vox gave the waitress his own order, which Alastor didn’t care to pay much thought to, and then did something that caught not only Alastor’s attention, but his ire.

“And he’ll have the-”

“Ha!” Alastor interrupted. “I’m quite capable of ordering for myself, Vox.” So he did.

After the waitress left, Alastor sat, fuming.

The fucking audacity on the man. What had possessed him to think he could make decisions on Alastor’s behalf?

For something as mundane as ordering an appetizer, perhaps Alastor should’ve let it slide. But Vox had been acting strangely and lacking manners all evening.

Now, Vox had always been a bit strange – Alastor rarely wasted time on people that weren’t – and had generally been letting his new Overlord status go to his head when it came to interactions with the masses, but this… This was something else.

Alastor glared daggers at Vox from across the table. Vox wouldn’t meet Alastor’s eye in return. At least he had the decency to be ashamed of himself.

*V*

So much for impressing Alastor by ordering for him. Vox had put so much effort into learning Alastor’s non-cannibalistic eating habits, too!

Not to mention the fact that Alastor had had all of ten minutes to look over the menu while Vox had been studying it for weeks.

And now Alastor had the nerve to be angry with him? What the fuck?

Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. Everything was blowing up in his face. At first, Vox had blamed himself, but now that he’d had time to think about it, really, the problem was Alastor.

Alastor had agreed to go on a date with Vox, and then rejected him at every turn.

Alastor had nitpicked Vox’s choice to drive them to the restaurant, then clammed up on the drive over, practically ignoring Vox the whole way there.

Alastor had destroyed the flowers Vox put so much time and effort into choosing. Thrown them away like trash. And he’d snubbed all of Vox’s attempts to be romantic since.

Alastor had played hot and cold from the very beginning, smiling and laughing and being the first one to call it a date! And now he was giving Vox the cold shoulder?

Talk about mixed signals.

*A*

Vox was giving off mixed signals. One minute he seemed subdued and apologetic, the next he was making some comment or another about Alastor.

Alastor’s appearance, Alastor’s attitude, Alastor’s choice to order his own Goddamned food.

Alastor had no idea what had triggered this shift in Vox’s behavior, but he had half a mind to start taking that mechanical head of his apart in hopes of finding out. Or simply to change the channel from inane commentary and false guilt to screams of pain and cries for mercy.

Either option sounded more appealing than sitting here and enduring Vox’s rapid decline in intellect.

The only thing stopping him was that – tonight’s oddities aside – Alastor considered Vox an ally, perhaps even a friend.

Because Vox’s television broadcasts used radio waves, his empire relied heavily on Alastor’s domain. Alastor had used this as leverage for countless favors, and would continue to do so until Vox outgrew either his usefulness or his entertainment value.

Alastor could always rely on Vox as a source of amusement when that ever-creeping sense of boredom threatened to consume him, and he enjoyed pushing Vox’s physical and metaphorical buttons to no end.

It wasn’t much of a stretch to say that Alastor usually enjoyed Vox’s company. Or that he was hesitant to end their working relationship over one night of… whatever this was.

So, Alastor endured.

And that was how Alastor wound up here, feeling a bit like he should be clawing his own skin off and a lot like he should be flaying Vox’s with one of the handily provided steak knives.

And doing neither because he was waiting to see how the night would play out. Waiting to see if he would get the Vox he used to know back at the end of it.

Leyonarda returned with their drinks. Vox drank freely. Alastor didn’t touch his.

Instead, he rested his hand on the table, tapping his claws against the wood. His skin prickled and itched. His legs were restless. His ears were still standing alert, swiveling and twitching in reaction to the sounds around them.

Since arriving in Hell, there was a part of Alastor’s brain that he’d done his best to ignore. A primal, animalistic part of him that had come free with this cursed cervine form. A prey instinct.

And currently, it was screaming.

Alastor’s claws drummed against the table. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. And his heart matched it beat for beat.

Time slowed.

Vox reached across the table.

Alastor stabbed Vox’s hand.

Vox let out a staticky hiss of pain. His hand was stabbed clean through with the steak knife Alastor had been eyeing. Pinned to the table, just inches away from where Alastor’s hand rested.

Alastor’s bones began to creak. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Vox’s wound was sparking. Alastor’s left hand was still holding the knife. Fortunately for him – though, unfortunately for Vox – the handle was an insulator.

“Me?” Vox all but screamed. “What the fx-ff-fuck are you doing?”

“Enforcing a well-established rule regarding touch,” Alastor informed him. His antlers grew heavier on his head and feedback crackled in both his voice and the air around them.

Somewhere, someone who was not Vox screamed. Then another. Then another. Dishes crashed to the ground, tables were flipped, demons were trampled. A cacophony of terror as the other patrons fled from the sight of two Overlords on the precipice of battle.

“The rule…” Vox’s mouth hung open dumbly for a moment before being replaced by a ‘technical difficulties’ screen.

When his face returned, it was distorted with lines of static. “The fz-fx-fucking fi-i-ive foot rule?”

Alastor twisted the knife. “That’s the one!” he said, aiming for cheery and landing on hysterical.

Vox slammed his non-injured hand down on the table. “You ssz-st-st-STILL wanna use thx-the FIVE FOOT RULE?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Bec-cx-cause we’re on a DATE!”

Alastor’s feedback spiked, screeching with the voices of every Soul that’d met their end at Alastor’s hands. For a moment, Vox’s scream was among them.

Alastor removed the knife from Vox’s hand and laid it down on the table. He reigned in his static the best that he could.

Alastor turned away from Vox. “Forget tonight ever happened.”

“Alastor-”

Alastor turned his head one-hundred and eighty degrees and all the static he’d held back returned to his voice. “Forget it.”

Alastor left the restaurant. He didn’t see Vox again for a long while.

End Notes:

Usually, I leave end notes as an AO3 exclusive perk, but these were very important end notes.

The flowers are foreshadowing. Vox doesn’t know Victorian flower language and picks them on looks alone, but they’re actually indicative of what’s to come.

Red Tulips -> Declaration of Love (Vox’s intentions for the date)

Candytufts -> Indifference (Alastor’s reaction to most of the date)

Rhododendrons -> Danger (shit’s about to go down)

There was another detail that I couldn’t manage to fit which was that the restaurant was meant to be called Carnivora, as in the order of animals Carnivora, and is staffed entirely by carnivore Sinners. Vox either didn’t notice or figured that since Alastor’s a cannibal, it wouldn’t bother him. But that was definitely part of Alastor’s innate sense of danger here.

[nocreativityfornames]

Hello! Um, I don't know how welcome you are to asks but I kinda wanted to bring up this little headcanon I have of Michael that you may or may not find interesting? Iv posted about it somewhere on my blog, but to summarize it, here

Consider the potential of a Teenage Michael!

Hear me out! I just think there is a lot of potential, not only angst wise but also narrative wise.

I just love the idea of the head angel of the celetial relm being this scrawny teenage boy with issues.

Not only is he a teenager with the responsibility of being the mature older brother to the other angels, therefore, having to step up more in the absence of lucifer, but also having a lowkey abusive father who burdens him with religious trauma.

And I just loove the trope where it's like:

The younger siblings stays behind with abusive parents left to take care of the rest of their family because their older sibling left to live a healthier life. And resentment builds because they think their older sibling abomdoned them.

Also considering how I don't think the devs will make him a villian, I think it would make Michael look way more sympathetic if he was on the younger side.

Is this accurate to what the game has established Michael to be? Not really but they've retconned things before. Not that I'd ever think they'd go along with a concept like this.

Anyways I'm writing this at like 11pm so exuse the spelling errors, I'm so tired 🥲.

Ps. I really like your content :D

I actually REALLY like that, and the angst oh boy :")

I mean, looking back to NB S1 (spoilers!!!) with this in mind makes everything so much sadder. Like how he disguised himself as Raphael just to visit the others in the Devildom because he missed them and didn't know how to interact with them as himself. And also him giving Lucifer that ultimatum to either come back or make the Devildom an enemy of the Celestial Realm as a last attempt to bring his older brother and brothers back (even though deep down he knew they'd refuse) because he was struggling to step up and handle things on his own after he left, especially since the trauma of the war was still fresh for everyone (including himself) and he had to look after the traumatized part of the family that stayed, like you said.

Which is... heartbreaking.

Funny thing though: I always thought Michael to be the oldest one (or them being twins) and your ask made me start thinking about how that would play out in this scenario with the og game stuff in mind.

So like, the older sibling carrying resentment while also being happy for the youngest because they got tired of the abuse and had the courage to stand up to their parent and leave to have a happier life when he couldn't because he still feels tied to that parent and that it's his responsibility and duty to stay with them no matter what (think of Dean and Sam from SPN, who have this exact dynamic and a very complicated relationship with their father).

And then there's the whole thing about Michael being the one to cast out Lucifer and his brothers from the Celestial Realm, which only adds to this. It's like: the younger brother stood up to his father and was met with rage, so the oldest stepped up and to avoid something even worse from happening kicked him out of the house himself.

(@luckykittysshowerthoughts has an amazing post about this that has never left my mind ever since I read it and I recommend everyone reading it)

So we fast-forward to years and years later where the oldest is still living with their parents looking after the siblings who didn't leave while missing his younger brother, worrying for him, and wanting to know how he's doing. So he tries his best to stay in contact and know what's happening but since their relationship has been strained ever since what happened (because from the youngest's POV his older brother betrayed him by not taking his side and kicking him out of the house, which I think was how Lucifer felt for a long time before he saw the bigger picture as he got older) the youngest rejects his attempts at trying to contact him and the oldest's only way to know how he's doing is by sending his other siblings to check up on him or contact the people close to him.

Does he do it to the point where it gets annoying? Yes. Is his constant need to know how his brother is doing making said brother feel even more frustrated with him and only driving him further away? Yes. Would it have been better if he had left the brother alone and waited for him to reach out on his own? Yes. But he can't find it in himself to do that because he'd worry too much and miss him even more.

Tbh, I can see both of these scenarios being true together. So younger Michael right after the fall is still bitter and doesn't want to admit that he misses Lucifer and his brothers (he didn't seem to like to hear that Luke thought he missed them when talking to him as Raphael) and later accepting that and leaving a lot of that resentment behind to just be happy for them and miss them, wanting to know how they're doing often, etc.

So I definitely don't see him as evil either, but more of a broken younger/older sibling who wants to reconnect with his family and whose intentions are good but don't translate very well in his method of doing things.

Sorry for going on my own rambling here, lol

And I'm more than fine with asks, I love discussing stuff about the game and the characters <3

[rainbowpui]

"SJ abused many talented disciples"

But it wasn't mentioned anywhere other than SY's chapters and I dont trust SY's pov on SJ especially not when he thought that SJ SA-ed NYY,SJ was in love with QHT, killed LQG and helped LBH to kill YQY.

LITERALLY SY is an unreliable narrator. he THINKS he knows everything about PIDW but most of what he thought at the beginning of the novel gets disproved. its... literally an important plot point that SY makes problems for himself bc hes too hung up on what he THINKS he knows about the characters. But like..... 99% of this is shown to be wrong....

in fact... realizing that almost everything he thought about sj is wrong.... is part of what makes him realize that what he has been thinking about LBH has been wrong too. why would we have to take his word from the START OF THE NOVEL about that when he discover he was wrong about everything else?

when sy wakes up all of sj's disciples were crowded around him worried and wanting for their shizun to wake up (except lbh). that.. doesnt exactly make me feel like they all hate him.

sy claims that sj was a lecher who lusted after his students..... but when we actually see sj's pov it turns out he isnt going to the brothels for sex but because thats the only place he can feel comfortable away from men bc of his trauma. we know its canon that he cares for nyy bc sy literally uses sj's care for her as a way to get around ooc and help lbh, but theres literally nothing to imply his affection is sexual in nature. sj saves qht and drags her away from the fire bc he feels indebted to her for being his only escape from the abuse by the other members of her household, not bc hes in love with her. even when saving her puts him in danger bc thats a loose end that can and does come back to bite him. tbh i cant say its canon that hes gay.... but he certainly doesnt seem to show any interest in women and gives "all of his loyalty" to another man and waits for him like a maiden waiting for her lover to return lol

we learn in the sqh extras that not only did sj not kill lqg in the caves but he tried to save him and just failed that time. we literally SEE sj save lqg on the mission with sqh and then get embarrassed and not even ask for credit for it.

sy blames sj for "killing yqy" but when we see the 79 extras.... he literally tries to push him away and tells him to leave when hes captured so that yqy stays safe and literally mentions that when he was FORCED BY LBH to write the letter he tried to make it obvious that its a trap. why is sj being blamed for lbh killing yqy just to hurt him???? sy CLAIMS to know everything about PIDW but literally the point mxtx is making by showing that sy is wrong about everything about sj.... is that maybe he doesnt know as much as he thinks... he thinks that lbh was the cause of the jinlani city plague as well and THAT is wrong too. (it was actually..... sy's fault. for releasing zzl.. OOPS.)

I dont care if he THOUGHT sj was like that at the start of the novel. hes not actually a reliable source!! esp at the start sj definitely DID abuse lbh. i dont think most sj stans will deny that or pretend that what he did was right. but.... we dont actually see him treat any other disciples poorly. if anything sy is the one making everyone else run laps and teaching them nothing to the point that sqh mentions that the disciples turn from "scholars" into "adhd children".... sy HIMSELF admits that its a good thing sj taught his students enough that they can basically run the sect on their own so that he can be lazy and do nothing and delegate to everyone else. i imagine that he might have been a bit strict as a teacher to the other students but thats not the same as abusing all of them. its literally just lbh he had an issue with

sometimes i feel like ppl didnt even read the same book when they take everything sy says at face value. hes a flawed character who is forced to rethink all the things he thought about BOTH sj AND lbh after witnessing sj's backstory makes him realize..... he cant actually assume he knows everything about these characters just bc he read PIDW. SQH himself admits that the sv universe is based on his rough draft, NOT on the dumbed down version that he was forced to write for the $$$ that sy ended up reading

somehow ppl can admit that sy was wrong about other characters but not about sj even when we see him proven wrong on screen??? its really strange... sj did SOME things wrong but not 99% of the shit ppl accuse him of

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

@deans-spinster-witch thank you for this ask. Actually thank you all that submit asks or sent me story prompts, I am going to get to them all, but I thought this one would be a good place to start.

First let me start off with my disclaimers:

1) I haven't see the last few seasons of SPN, so I don't know how they addressed COVID, if they did at all. So think of it as alternative timeline, not really canon.

2) My COVID representation is probably not 100% accurate, either by the reader symptoms or that I don't mention Dean wearing a mask or that he was able to be in the hospital with the reader.

3) I just POV and I think I may have jump from 2nd to 3rd person writing? I did my best to correct it, but sometimes I can't seem to correct it. Also did my best with editing, but I am sure I missed something. Flashbacks are bold italic and internal thoughts are just italic.

4) I am not sure if this is 100% what you were looking for. It does end on a cliffhanger, so I will be posting a second part. It was getting hella long coming in at 7,500 words. 😬 sorry.

5) swearing, hints of past trauma that we may get more in the second part. Self doubt/hate. Angst heavy!

Okay think that's it. It's a Y/N x Dean focus story with Sam making an appearance via phone. Characters are not mine but the work is. So please don't post as your own.

Feel free to like, reblog, send me feedback in the comments. And if you have a story idea, send it my way via asks or message. Or if you want me to tag you on my work let me know.

Okay think I have stalled long enough. Here it is, my first story back from 3 year break.

JUST BREATHE-



"Excuse me, sir, you can't be up here." A female voice, strong, laced with exhaustion, mixes with the sounds of the hospital. Doctors are being paged, staff are going in and out of rooms, and machines are monitoring patients. All of it, white noise, too, Dean. Because he can't look away or tear his eyes from what is in front of him. Y/N is lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator. What happened? How did it come on so strong and so fast? He had just seen you last week when he came through town on his way to his next hunt. Picking up research that you had done for him since Sam was working on another case in California. You were the best…no, are, you are the best researcher he knows…you have to get better; you can't…

"Sir! I will have to ask you to leave if you're not family. The ICU is only for families." The female voce, insistent on getting him to pay attention to her. Tired, she was just so damn tired of no one listing to her today; she had better things to do than police people about.

"How long has she been here?" Dean asks, his voice firm but slightly wavering. He can't look away, watching as the vent goes up and down, breathing for you. Y/N, come on, you have to pull through; I can't lose you, Dean thinks, trying his best not to break. He prayed to God if he thought it would help if he thought the ass would be listing.

"Sir, I can't give that information if you're not family." Dean looks away from you for a moment, noticing the nurse standing beside him. She is dressed in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back, and a mask on. He can tell she is on her last nerve with him, and he has to win her over. He can't leave you, not now. "So, are you family?" she asks again.

"Umm…" He knew he needed to lie. If he told her that you were just a friend, he would never get answers and would never get back to this floor again. It was dumb luck that he could get your room number out of the receptionist downstairs. He pulled himself together to give her his winning smile and wink. "She's my sister." Clearing his throat, he looked back to you.

The nurse looks down at the chart in her hand. "Miss. Moore didn't have a brother listed as next of kin, but then again, a neighbor brought her in." Looking back up to Dean, he doesn't respond. "How about we go somewhere a little more private to discuss your sister's condition?" She lightly grabs Dean by the shoulder and turns him away from the window and you.

********

Dean did his best to listen to the nurse, but all he really wanted to do was get back to you. It was driving him crazy that he couldn't do anything; this wasn't caused by a demon, monster, or anything in his wheelhouse. You were brought in about a day or two after he had seen you. Your neighbor had come over to borrow something and saw you in the window, passed out on the floor. COVID had hit you hard, and you just couldn't shake it; your lungs filled up so fast with fluids that you passed out.

That was a week ago; you had been in the hospital for a week and on a ventilator. The doctors feel that your body just needs time to fight off the infection.

"She seemed fine when I saw her last; how could this happen?" Dean questions, trying to be as respectful as possible without raising his voice and getting kicked out.

"COVID hits everyone differently; we really don't know why. Some people may never get it, and some…" Not finishing her statement, the nurse looks away from Dean.

"Can I go back and sit with her?" Dean asks, more like pleading with her. He just wants to ensure you're doing alright and stand watch until you wake up. He doesn't know what else to do.

"I am sorry, but no," the nurse replies as kindly as possible. Seeing that he will protest this, she quickly adds, "But, you can come back during visiting hours. You won't be able to go in the room; we have to keep it clean because of COVID, but you can see her from the window." Hoping this will be a compromise he can live with. She doesn't want him to get upset and have to call security and have him escorted out. She can tell he cares for her and is scared.

Dean will take it; he knows he has to. You're the strongest person he knows. You will get through this; you have to. "Alright, I guess I will come back then," Dean says, getting up from the table.

********

Walking out of the hospital, Dean calls Sam to tell him what is happening and that he wasn't leaving until you were back home. Screw the world, let the monsters run amuck, and let demons rain hell on earth; he had more important things to do. "I don't care, Sammy, I am not leaving again. This is the only number you can reach me at, and only you," he says, getting into the Impala and firing it up.

"Alright, Dean. I hear you. Do you want me to come? I am almost done here." Sam offers, knowing that Dean won't take him up on it.

"No, I am good, but thanks. You stay on the West Coast until the world calms itself down." Letting the engine run for a bit, Dean takes a second. This has been the longest they have been working apart. It's been hard on both of them, but at least Dean has you to talk to. He has been leaning on you more since Sam was in California. Could Dean have caused this? Was he asking too much of you?

"Dean, hey, you still there?" Sam breaks through his intrusive thoughts.

Clearing his voice, "Yeah."

"You know, she will get through this. She's going to be okay," Sam says, trying his best to reassure him and get him out of his head because even if they are miles apart, he knows his brother. Dean is blaming himself right now for something that he can't control.

“Yeah, I know… I just… what if I…..”

"No, don't think like that, and don't think you had anything to do with this happening." Sam quips back, knowing where his brother's thoughts are going, and he will not have him spiraling out.

"But I ask so much of her. You know she will never say no. Even when she has other things to do, she always drops everything when I ask for a favor. God, I am such a user…"

"No, you're not. Y/N is strong, and she said she would tell you if she didn't want to do something. She wants to help; she thrives on researching this stuff, and you know it." Sam states, "Come on, you know she would rather research lore or listen to one of your 'tales from the front lines,' as she likes to call them, any day of the week."

The thought of you saying these words to him as you patch him up, 'Alright, Dean, what tales to do we have this time?' or how your voice would be giddy when he called you about a case he found. "Yeah, you're right, Sam," Dean replies. Feeling a bit better after talking with Sam, he always knows how to keep him from spiraling too much.

"I know I am; now go get some rest. She's going to need you when she wakes up."

"Night brother"

After hanging up the phone, Dean didn't want to go to a hotel or bar, but he was now wired and needed to do something. Pulling out of the parking lot was second nature, and he found his way to your driveway.

Sitting there, looking at the modest, two-bedroom, two-bath house, he would consider a second home for as much time as he has spent there. It was odd to think about walking through that door and you not being there. When getting out of the car, the sound of the door opening and closing is the only noise that breaks up the silence of the night. Taking a few steps, Dean stops himself from knocking like he usually does. Habit, he thinks. Pulling his keys out, he flips until he finds the one for your house.

It was an argument you had won, not that he didn't want a key. Of course, he did, but he didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands should something happen.

"No, I don't need a key, Y/N," Dean protest, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Yes, you do; now take it." You say, holding out the key for him to take.

"I don't need it; you're always here. Why would I need to get into your place when you're not here?" he questions. Finishing off his beer, he gets up from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. "You want another one?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

You get up and follow him. "Don't change the subject, Winchester," you say, following him and sitting on a kitchen stool. What if I wasn't home tonight?"

Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin and turning to face her, he can tell by the severe look on your face that this is an argument that he won't win. But why make it easy on you. "But you were," giving you a smirk, he opens the fridge to pull out two more bottles. "Besides, where would you be on a Friday night? You have a hot date I don't know about?" he questions. Handing one of the bottles to you.

He struggles slightly to open the bottle with his left hand since his right is currently in a sling. After putting his shoulder back into place and stitching him up, you open the beer in your hand, hand it to him, and take the other one from him. "Maybe," you say cryptically, a twinkle in your eyes.

"Really? Didn't know you were dating anyone?" Dean is slightly put off by this. It's not that someone would want to date you; it's the opposite. You're beautiful, and he always wonders how you were still single after all this time. Intelligent and funny, any guy would be lucky to call you his. Heck, he would like to call you his.

"I am not," you say, putting him out of his misery and his slight spiral of another guy touching her, kissing her… But I could still be out. Do you want to be sitting out in your car waiting for me to get home?" you question, pushing the key towards him. "Just take the dam key. It's only a key. I am not asking you to move in with me."

If you asked him that, he would say yes in a heartbeat. But the reality of his life, what he and Sam do for a living, gives him pause to take the key. "I just don't want anyone else to get their hands on it."

"Who, like Sam? Of course, you can give a copy to Sam." You joke, knowing what he's getting at but trying your best to keep this conversation light.

"No, not Sam. I am thinking Crowley, another demon or monster, or worse, Lucifer. I would hate for anyone other than Sam or me to get their hands on this and come after you."

"Dean, that's not going to happen."

"But it could, you know it could."

Letting out a sigh, you decide to pull out the big guns to get him to take this damn key. "A key is not their first choice to get in. You have put up all the wards you could think of." You say, proving that you are as safe as possible. "Heck, you made me even get this thing." Snapping off your leather bracelet to show off the anti-possession tattoo. "and you know how much I hate needles." The black tattoo shows nicely against your light skin and hides the other barely visible scars.

"Yeah, I found out real quick that day. I think I still have scars on my arm from you digging your nails in," he jokes, bringing his hand up to his wrist to run his fingers around the tattoo and the scars he knows are there.

"Haha, that's real funny." You fake laugh. " Just take it, please. It will make me feel better if you have it." You do your best puppy dog eyes as you push the key closer to him.

Dean takes a moment before caving. "Alright, but I am only going to use it for emergencies." he conceits, taking his keys out and putting your house key on the ring with the rest.

Getting up from the stool, you smile at him, "Thank you, Dean," you say sweetly and hug him.

**

Dean shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts from that night, as he shuts the door behind him. He stood in the entryway, just taking in the quietness of the house, holding his breath, waiting for you to come down the hallway, saying, ‘Dean, you look like shit; what were you up against this time? Let me get you patched up, and you can tell me all about it.’ Guiding him to the kitchen, you would pull the first aid kit and a beer from the fridge.

Watching these memories play out in front of him, it's not until he lets out a shaky breath that he had been holding that he feels the tears run down his face, "Fuck! Y/N, you got to get better, okay…." choking back, "I can't lose you." The thought of losing another important person in his life. Someone who should have a happy and long life and who, without them, Dean wouldn't be standing here today. He owes everything to you.

Dean can't bring himself to step past the entryway, feeling like an intruder. "I can't…" feeling pressure in his chest, he turns and walks out the door. Locking the door and making the short walk to his car, the pressure subsides once he is in the driving seat. Knowing he can't stay in the house. Too many memories of you and his dark thoughts will keep him up. He also can't put the car in drive and go to the motel just outside of town. It's like his body won't let him leave.

*******

Y/N POV

You were in the hospital for two weeks, and Dean was by your side, or somewhat outside your hospital room, every day, every hour he could be. At least that is what the nurse told you once you were awake. Your 'brother' Dean has been by your side. The first time they told you this, you looked confused, which caused concern from the staff.

"Your brother, Dean," the nurse says again, her voice laced with concern as she points to the window that looks into your room from the hallway.

You turn your head slightly, your body stiff from being in bed for so long, and the breathing tube just being taken out. There you see him, Dean Winchester, raising his hand to give you a short wave, and a look of relief washes over his face, which is covered with a slightly heavy five-clock shadow. You give him a smile and look back at the nurse. "Yeah, sorry, of course, he's my brother. Just didn't know anyone called him?" you reply, "Can I have some water?" you ask, you're throat feeling like sandpaper.

"Sure," the nurse says, filling a cup and handing it to you. "Well, the doctor will be in soon," she says, giving you a short smile and walking towards the door.

"Umm, can my brother come in?" you ask. Knowing that no matter what she says, Dean will make it in here one way or the other. The nurse hesitates. "It's just that I would like him to hear what the doctor says. I am still groggy, not sure I am going to remember everything he tells me," you add, hoping this will pull on her heartstrings just a bit.

Which does work, "Sure." she replies, giving you a smile and then walking out the door. She briefly talks to Dean before walking away, and Dean enters the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean says, shutting the door behind him and walking towards you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. You try to sit up a bit more, but you struggle a bit.

Dean quickly gets to you. " Here, let me," he says, finding the remote for the bed, setting you upright, and then readjusting your pillows. "Good?" he asks once it looks like you're settled.

Feeling slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this, you’re sure you're a mess, bed hair, hospital gowns, and oh man…your breath has got to stink by now, right? Trying your best not to breathe out, "Yeah, thanks." you quickly reply. Dean sits in the chair next to your bed but doesn't say anything. Okay, guess you will start. "So brother, hum?" you quip.

He smiles at this and looks away from you to the bedding. "Yeah, I had to say something; otherwise, they would never let me back in." Then, looking back at you, a slight panic sets in that you might be mad at him for this small lie. " You're not mad, are you?" he asks.

"No, of course not," you reply, wanting to reassure him that everything is fine. This does, as relief washes over him a second time. You hold out your hand for him to take. "Just wonder what Sam will say about having a little sister, that's all. I am sure he will hate being the middle child," you joke.

Dean gives a short laugh: "Oh, Sammy will be all right with it. He will be happy to hear you're awake, is all." Dean's fingers rubbing your hand back and forth are nice.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask, trying to remember the day before you were brought in, but it's all a blur. Was he coming to see you? Was he working on a case?

"I was coming back through, and you had helped me with the case in North Carolina…" lowering his voice, even though you're in a private room," that Dinji." Dean recounts, seeing you not remember. He continues, "I stopped by your place, and your neighbor was out and said you were in the hospital."

None of that is registering at all, like last month, which is a blank slate. Fuck, what else are you not remembering? "And you have been here this whole time?" you ask, wondering what the state of the world must be like if he has taken himself out of saving the world for two weeks! Is Sam okay?

Dean's eyes, bright green, lock with yours, cocking his head slightly to the side, with slight confusion at your shock that he was here the whole time. "Of course, where else would I be? I wasn't going to leave you alone here," he says, a matter of fact.

You're about to reply to this, ask more questions, ask how Sam is, but before you can, the doctor enters the room. "Miss. Moore, welcome back," he says, looking at your chart and then at you and Dean. And this must be your brother?" he asks, holding his hand for Dean to shake.

Dean does, letting go of yours, the loss of him, his touch is apparent. "Hey, doc, when can I take my sister home?" Dean asks.

The doctor starts to talk, but you're not listening; your mind drifts to Dean. He put his life on pause for you? Wow, that's something, but you're sure he would do it for Charlie, Jody, Claire, or Alex, right? Yeah, of course. Dean sees you as family, which is what you are to him; that's what you will always be. Yes, you were close. He and Sam saved you from the vampire nest, explained everything about their world, and gave you a purpose.

You feel a slight pressure in your chest. Now that you're awake, how long will he stay before he leaves again?

"So I will get the nurse to start the discharge paperwork, and you guys should be out of there in a few hours," the doctor says. Giving you a smile.

Not hearing anything but that, you just smile back and look towards the window. You hear Dean thank the doctor, and he leaves the room. "nice guy," Dean says, filling up the silence.

"Yeah," you reply. You’re not sure what you are feeling; it's almost like a weight on your chest, pressure. Maybe it is COVID; it will be better once you get home. It has to, right?

******

You didn't know Dean could fuss over you more if he tried. He insisted that he be the one to wheel you out of the hospital, only after he made sure the car was pulled up as close to the door as possible so you didn't have to walk too far. Then, when he pulled into your driveway, he insisted he carry you the short walk to the front door.

"No, Dean, I can walk. My legs aren't broken; I had COVID, that's all." you quip back as he comes over to your side of the car to pick you up.

"The doctor said you shouldn’t over-exaggerate yourself, that's all," he replies, trying again to wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up from standing against the closed car door.

You block his hands again. As much as you would like his arms around you, have him cradle you; where is this coming from? You also don't want him to hurt himself, or God forbid the neighbors see him carrying you bridle style. "Yeah, walking the three feet to my front door is not going to kill me." This comment is like a punch in the gut for Dean; it's written on his face. Shit, was my COVID scare that much of an effect on him? But why? Trying to write your wrong, you try to play it off. "Come on, man, I have been on my back for two weeks and must move a little bit." You quip back. Playfully pushing him aside and walking towards the door.

You get to the door but realize you don't have your keys, you didn't have those, or your phone when you were brought into the hospital. You wait for Dean to come up behind you. He doesn't say anything, pulling out his keys; he opens the door and lets you walk in first. You shuck off your jacket and shoes and go to the living room. Sitting on the couch, you try to hide the sigh of exhaustions that you feel from the small activities you just did; but it slips past your lips and is not lost on Dean.

"Want me to make you some tea? You hungry?" Dean asks.

"No, I want you to tell me what's happened since I was in the hospital. Did all the evil in the world decide to take a break while I was out, and that's how you got to have some time off?" you question, motioning him to sit next to you on the couch.

Dean shrugs at this, "No. I just told Sam I was taking myself off the board, is all." he says casually.

"Taking yourself off the board? Hum, I didn't know you guys could do that," you ask, Giving him an intuitive look.

Dean is giving you nothing back, shaking his head, looking around the room, and clapping his hands together. He points towards the kitchen, "I am going to make that tea for you." He walks away before you can stop him, leaving you to your thoughts. Something else is happening, and you know who to call to get the truth out.

******

Making that call seem more complicated than usual since Dean didn't leave your side for anything. Three days, three days of hovering and mothering you, and as much as you care for Dean, and possibly secretly loved him. Let's face it, those chest tightening pains at the hospital, the loss of his touch was not COVID symptoms, it was your heart telling you what you already knew. You were in love with Dean Winchester, and the fact that he dropped everything for you made your head spin and feel like the most important girl in the world. But you are a realist, and Dean Winchester is out of your league. He sees you as the little sister he got settled with, not the girl he wants to kiss and do other things with.

On top of that, you are sure his opinions of you drop a few points since you found out really quick that to pass the time while he waited for you to wake up, he decided to clean your house from top to bottom. The sheer embarrassment when you found out had you want the couch to swallow you up right there. "Excuse me, you did what?" you ask, thinking you didn't hear him right when you ask; the following day, a book you usually had on your coffee table was now on the bookshelf that it was never on.

"I did some cleaning while you were…" Dean says, not finishing that statement while he grabs the few dishes off the coffee table and heads towards the kitchen. He never finishes that statement. Whenever he says it, he never says 'when you were in the hospital' or 'when you were sick.' After three days of the hanging statement, you get frustrated over that.

But knowing he cleaned your house, how clean is clean? Did he do your laundry? Yep! Did he clean under your bed and put stuff away on your nightstand? God forbid he did a deep clean in your closet—oh, the embarrassment. "Why?" you ask, now following him, waiting for an answer that you sure won't come.

Dean has his back to you, rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. "What? It's not a big deal. I had time, plus the nurse thought it was a good idea for you to come home to a clean hose." He says while wiping down the counter.

You try your best to breathe and calm down. Yes, all that is true, a clean house to come home too make sense. But having him go through your personal and private things, fuck, him cleaning your underwear. He will never look at you as desirable again, not like he did before. You look up from the floor to see him watching you, waiting for a reply. "thanks, I guess," you say, defeated. "I am going to go take a shower." You say, needing just a few minutes by yourself, shake off this feeling of rejection you know he doesn't realize he caused.

"You need some help?" he asks, approaching you and walking a step behind you.

You take a second, knowing again that he just wants to help, but God treats you like an old woman. Because you know that his offer of 'helping you out' in the shower does not imply sexy times; it's he saying he thinks you are weak and that you're going to get tired, fall, and hurt yourself. You get to the bathroom door. "No, I got it, thanks," you say, opening the door and shutting it before he can say anything.

*****

Dean POV

I know I am being overprotective, maybe even going overboard with not letting her do anything, and perhaps the deep clean was an overreach. But in my defense, I thought I could lose her, and if she was going to, no, when she was going to come home, I wanted it to be in a clean, COVID-free house.

I turn away from the bathroom door and walk towards the living room. I start to clean up, picking up the discarded blanket from my makeshift bed; even though she has a spare room, it's on the second floor away from her, and I want to be close in case she needs me in the night.

The rigging of my phone pulls me from my thoughts of her. Picking up, I see it's Sam. "Hey, what's up?" I ask, dropping the blanket and myself onto the couch.

"Just checking in, how's Y/N?"

"Good, still low energy, but I am just happy she’s walking and talking, even if I am annoying her."

"You, annoying her, I can't believe it," Sam says, with fake shock. "You know she can take care of herself; she has been doing that for some time now." Sam reminds me. Knowing that my hovering is coming for a place of love for Y/N, but it could be doing more damage than good.

"I know, it's just…" I pause briefly, looking back to see the closed bathroom door. "Sam, she just looked so helpless there lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to those machines…and there was nothing I could do…nothing that could save her…I just had to wait."

Sam knows that's not my strong suit, "I know, I get it, but maybe just ease off a little. I am sure it's making her feel like a burden, you doing everything for her."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I will try."

"I know I am." He clears his throat and paused briefly before asking what he knew I would not want to answer: "So when are you heading back to the bunker?"

I pause momentarily; the idea of leaving you hadn't crossed his mind. "Umm…" Hearing the door open, he looks to see you walking out of the bathroom and down the hallway to your room, wrapped in your navy-blue plaid robe, hair slightly damp from the shower. "Not sure yet, but I will keep you posted. I got to go." I say quickly, hanging up the phone. I know that she can take care of herself, but at the same time, I don't want to leave her again; what if I do and something happens, and there is no one here to save her again. Sam's right, though; I have to back off, or I am liable to smother her.

*****

Y/N POV (about a week later)

Something seems to have changed in Dean in the last few days. It was like the old carefree Dean was back. He hovered less, not watching my every move, and even went on a quick day trip to the bunker to pick up more books for me to read since I had read everything in my place twice, and if I was going to be stuck inside I wanted to do something productive. Granted, I had to ride shotgun on this trip, so although we got out of the house, I was still under his protective eye. But he wasn't babying me anymore; he cracked jokes, smiled, and even complained when I made him watch the same movie repeatedly.

Dean was going on a food run, and this was one outing he didn't let me go on. Too many people, could possibly get sick again, so he didn't want to risk it. But he also hated doing it, leaving you alone. "You're sure you're going to be fine," he asks again, standing in the doorway, you on the other side, trying your best not to push him out and lock the door.

"Yes, Dean, you'll be gone for an hour. I think I can survive." you quip, pushing him playfully, "Go, I promise, no running around the house with scissors or jumping on the bed. I will keep my butt on the couch until you get back."

Dean's worried face slightly softens, knowing that you will be fine, but that pit in his stomach—the thought of him walking out that door again and not having you in his sight—will never go away. "Okay, but call me if you feel off," he reminds you again.

"Yes, now go." You reply with a smile. Yes, he was getting on your nerves slightly, but you still loved the guy for it.

You watch as he pulls out of the driveway and down the road before you head inside. Walking to your room, you find your cell phone charging, and you quickly make the call you've been waiting to make since you got home.

He picked up on the second ring: "Y/N, everything alright? Dean texted me to say he was going on a food run. Do you need him? Are you not feeling well?…" Sam blurts out, a lengthy, run-on statement that has you slightly spinning.

Trying your best not to laugh at him. "Sam, calm down; I am good. I just wanted to talk to my friend. How are you?" you ask, wanting to ease into this discussion. Plus, you really did want to know how he was doing; ever since you came home, you only talked to Sam when Dean would call him and have him on speakerphone. Even then, Sam was instructed not to speak about cases he was working on. Dean had a theory that possibly COVID was stress-induced, but you know it wasn't.

"I am good, making my way back to the bunker. I have a case in Wisconsin, so I'm in your area. I was thinking of seeing you guys once it's done."

"Oh yes, please do, Sam. It's been ages since we've hung out together. I feel like a movie marathon is needed."

"Yeah, if you're up for it. Dean tells me you get tired easily. Is anything else not the same?"

"Umm…brain fog for sure; I lost all memory of the week before I went into the hospital. Some things don't taste the same. But honestly, Sam, can we not talk about me for a bit. Tell me about the case in Wisconsin; what are you hunting this time." You inquire, done talking about yourself, need a distraction, and avoid asking Sam what you want to know.

Sam, being the best friend, a girl could ask for, knew that a distraction from your symptoms was what you needed, and although it would be breaking his promise to Dean, he could hear it in your voice, the need for some kind of normalcy, at least what normal is considered for us. Giving you all the details, you can come to the same conclusion that it was a vengeful spirit and a simple salt and burn job is in order.

Once Sam is done talking about Wisconsin, a lull in the conversation forms, and you look at the clock to see Dean should be home soon. "Sam, can I ask you something?" You feel slightly nervous and try to figure out how to phrase your question.

"Of course, you can ask me anything."

Taking a breath, you wait a second before asking, "How was Dean when he found out I was sick? He said he 'took himself off the board' and has been hovering since I got home. He's gotten better, but those first few days, it was like he was a different person."

Sam can tell by the last statement that you're trying to bring some levity to an otherwise heavy question, a question that he is surprised you have to ask. taking a breath, he thinks about how to say, ‘You idiot, he loves you! and you love him!'

"I am glad to hear that he's lost up the reins a bit," giving a chuckle, "but honestly, Y/N, he was devastated. I know he's my big brother, and he tries his best to hide his emotions, but I could tell that night when he called to tell me what happened, he was scared. Scared that he was going to lose you, scared that he might have caused this to happen to you."

"How could he have caused COVID? I mean, I get he sometimes can have a big ego, but, come on, he can't cause an infection."

"No, but he thinks he has been asking too much of you, wearing you down. I can't say whether he's right or wrong. You and I know you occasionally burn the candle at both ends."

"Yeah, I am trying to get better at that. But Sam, he was treating me like I was 90 years old. He wouldn't let me do a thing around here. And did he tell you he cleaned my house—my whole house—before I got home? I mean everything."

"Oh man, I am sure you were not happy to hear about that."

"Your damn right. I wasn't."

"Look, it's not my place to say, but I will tell you this, remember that night when you and I got a little tipsy, and you might have let slip your feelings for a certain green eye hunter?"

Fuck, of course, he remembers that night; that was right after you had helped him and Dean take down a wraith, and Dean was out on a beer run. "Yeah, you asked me why I never seem to be dating anyone, and I said I can't be with the one guy I want, so why be with the wrong guy at all."

Sam waits for you to connect the dots, and although you're not sitting in front of him, Sam has a feeling you're making the connections: "Let's just say Dean has the same idea, and he has his eye on a hazel eye researcher that he thinks he can't have."

You're about to protest Sam's statement that Dean has no feelings for you other than sibling love, but before you can, you hear the front door open and Dean yelling, "Honey, I am home," sweetly.

"I've Got to go, Sam. Talk soon," you say, and hang up before he can reply.

*********

Sam's words kept rolling around in your mind all night, distracting you from Dean. During dinner, you were quiet, letting him lead the conversation and not making it known when he mentioned Sam might be stopping by in a day or two that you two had talked earlier. "Oh, okay, sounds good." you responded, still thinking, 'He has his eye on a hazel-eye researcher that he thinks he can't have.'

Dean went for girls that were the complete opposite of you, blonde, curves in all the right places without an ounce of fat to be seen, the girl that guys walk across fire for, not the girl that they run into fire to get away from. Not the girl who is socially awkward around strangers, who can put her foot in her mouth easier than anyone, and who has more of a backstory than is worth mentioning. No, Dean goes for simple, noncomplex girls, which makes sense, given his life is entirely of danger and complexity. Why go for a girl to add to it.

Dean can tell your mind is elsewhere, and he is slightly worried that you're lost in your head or that this might be another symptom. "Hey, space cadet, you with me? Because if you're not watching the movie, I will gladly turn it to something we haven't seen twice this week," he jokes, hoping to make fun of the situation.

His voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you look over at him; his eyes have just a hint of worry to them. The blanket across both of you, him in a simple white t-shirt and sleep bottoms, you in gray leggings, tank top, and open cardigan. Perfection, you and Dean cozy up on the couch, not a care in the world, him teasing you about your love of disaster movies, and you forcing him to watch the same one repeatedly, and he does; why? Because he loves you. He loves you like a sister, a friend, someone he cares for, just not someone he’s IN love with.

"yeah, sorry, I think I am just going to go to bed." You shake off that last statement: he's not IN love with you. God, you really know how to cut yourself deep, don't you? Getting up from the couch, you grab your water glass and head towards your room.

Dean gets up with you, "here, let me help you," he says, walking around the couch and placing a hand on your lower back.

This is the last straw, the final statement of his wanting to help you, again treating you like you're helpless. "Stop! Just stop!" you yell, feeling yourself boil with rage you knew you had been keeping at bay. You know his hovering is with the best intentions, but for you, it's blurring the lines between what you want from him and what you know he can give you. Your mind won't let it be accurate even after what Sam told you today.

Dean stops his hands from touching you, standing still like he is frozen in time. "Y/N, hey, I just want to help. You look tired, is all." His voice is soft and sweet.

He’s trying to placate you, like he would a child or grandparent, "Dean, I am fine; I can walk ten feet to my room on my own and not get lost or fall down, okay!" You lock eyes with him and see his face fall, and in that moment, you know that he's hurt; you've only ever yelled at him when you were injured and need him to find you. But that was screaming for him, not at him. You know that you should feel bad for your outburst, you do, but you know that this is not real, that this ideal version of him and you playing house can't last.

"What is wrong? Is this another symptom? Did something happen while I was out?" he asks, wanting to understand your sudden change since this morning. You start walking away from him, wanting to get into your room and away from him, knowing he will get the truth out of you. You don't want to hear his excuses or him placate you even more about why he and you will never be a thing.

You turn halfway down the hall to look back at him, standing there watching you. "No! It's not! I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. Stop treating me like I am dying, Dean! You saved me once; that should be enough for you." Turning back, you reach your door, hand on the handle to open it, when you hear Dean.

"What does that mean?" Dean questions, his footsteps pad against the hardwood floors, standing right behind you; you can feel his breath on your neck, "I know you are capable; you are the strongest woman I know." his voice low, sending shivers down your body, you feel his hand on your arm, turning you around to face him. He sees your tear-stain cheek, "Fuck, Y/N, talk to me; what is going on? Why would you say saving you once was enough?"

Your eyes, trying and failing to hold back the tears, are now on the brink of spilling out. He needs to just let you go. You lean back against the door, knowing he took that little movement as exhaustion, and you are. You are exhausted by talking about this repeatedly, tired that he just can't let you leave, won't give up, and will go back to seeing you only when he needs something. He needs to go back to his life and let you put him back into the box of things that you don't let yourself have. Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face, wiping the tears and pushing them back inside. Putting on your brave face, "You know, Sam will be here in two days. I think you should go back with him. Go back to the bunker, and 'put yourself back on the board.'"

Throwing his line back at him, telling him he needed to return to work and that you would be fine without him. Will you, though? In time, maybe? You turned the door handle and stepped into the room, never breaking your eye contact with him. He shut the door in his face and flipped the lock, not giving him a chance to speak, knowing that he would not force his way in.

To be continued

[beanghostprincess]

I would like to know your thoughts on Boa x Luffy.

Because I have a few problems with this ship. (actually it´s mostly one, the others are more reasons why I don´t ship them)

First the age gap: Can´t say anything to it since I like Marco x Ace (I don´t won´t to think of that age different! )

A problem I have is that Boa seems to idolize Luffy and alredy wants to merry a 17Y old Luffy. And first I was like thats a bit creepy but then I stopped a moment to think. When I look of her behavior and her thoughts, she actually reminds me more of a little girl with her first crush. (lasteres is definitive true) While she wasn´t as lucky to grew up as isolated as most of the amazons (who didn´t even know what a man looks like) and has probably good reasons to hate men, she soesn´t know much about relationships.

I think, and I can´t believe I´m saying this, that Luffy is in this more mature than her in this. He clearly says that he won´t marry her. (and thank you Oda to not play it for laugh and make him not understand what she means) I´m pretty sure Luffy knows her feelings for him, but ignores it (doesn´t think about it).

What I really don´t like about this ship is actually not the ship itself (even if I don´t ship them), it´s some "shiper" when you can call them that. It´s when someon just ships them because Luffy NEEDS a love intrest (not true) or because with someone Luffy has to have children in the future (also not true!).

I hate that! Boa (and Luffy) deserve better than that. She is a strong independent women that is more than her crush on Luffy.

I could write so many reasons why I love Boa, but I wrote already so much (more than I wanted) and my cat is bothering me because she wants attention. ( how dare I not give her the attention she deservs? Love her.)

I usually have no issues with ships because if I don't like them I just ignore them, so I basically don't care about this ship? Like people be people. You do you. Hakuna Matata. I personally don't like it because it's not my type of thing and because the only reason Boa likes Luffy is because she feels safe around him the way she feels safe around Rayleigh. Men have always seen her (and still do) as an object, and she has managed to use her beauty against them and their stupidity and I love it. I love her. I find Boa and Luffy's dynamic really endearing because it's not only that she has a ""crush"" on him, but she trusts him and genuinely feels comfortable in his presence to the point of saying "well, if this goes wrong I'll just go to Luffy" (which is really fucked up actually because she should be more independent and relying on romantically/sexually is only a trauma response, but yeah, at least she has two men in her life she can trust). I think she doesn't love Luffy or have a crush on him at all. She's just captivated by him and how safe he makes her feel because he's one of the only two men who have never seen her as an object. So, from that POV I really like the dynamic, but not romantically/sexually at all. I honestly think she's a lesbian going through the biggest fucking case of comphet I've ever seen, but then again, no opinion on the ship other than I don't like it but people can do whatever they want as long as they don't bother me.

However, I must say I do agree with you on the fact that most Boa/Luffy shippers (dudebros, mostly) like the pairing because they think Luffy as a main character needs a female love interest, and since she's been pretty much the only girl who has explicitly displayed romantic feelings for Luffy, they just take it as canon without thinking about their relationship or characters in the slightest. These people just keep pushing a normatively straight and allo agenda that I can't fucking stand. But, well, it's not like I interact with them so whatever.

Most people see this ship as problematic for the age difference and I find that pretty much stupid because usually the main problem with age difference is the level of maturity and power imbalance, but in this case, Boa is just down bad for him and she's a bit annoying at times (honestly, I keep saying it's just her coping mechanism often played as a joke for her character). And Luffy knows that she is because he has refused to get married to her multiple times. People act like Luffy is this naive kid who doesn't know what love/sex is, but the guy is just... Not interested. He doesn't seem bothered by her either? If Luffy genuinely disliked Boa for this he would've said so. He is a very direct and honest character. He likes Boa. He's friends with her. He'll help her if needed and he cares about her. However, he just doesn't like her romantically and... That's pretty much it? It's not that deep from Luffy's POV, honestly.

And when people call Boa a predator (I've seen that) I just feel uh... Conflicted with their opinion. Because a predator is somebody who has these patterns and keeps wanting/liking kids/really young people and keeps insisting whether or not they want it and they're, well, pervs, basically. Boa's feelings for Luffy are, like you said, pretty much shown as a high school innocent crush. The way she acts around him is to rely on him rather than take advantage of him, because, I repeat, all men in her life have used her and now that she has a male friend who doesn't see her as an object, she copes with having a crush on him. Which is really sad and it has happened to me and to a lot of lesbians with bad past experiences and... Seeing people call her out like this as if she were some big evil predator makes me feel really uneasy and worried about the reading skills of this fandom. Have you considered that... Even if there's an age gap... Some people don't have bad intentions and adults can also be traumatized? Like, I'm not saying this would be okay in real life, because it wouldn't (even if her behavior is understandable from a psychological POV), but in fiction? I think Boa is a pretty complex and well-written character and she has her reasons behind this comedic gag, even if it doesn't seem like it. Oda likes to exaggerate these things, with Sanji, for example. Y'all would literally hate Sanji in real life for how he treats women most of the time and we all acknowledge it's a comedic gag that got out of hand.

I'm not sure if I'm wording this right, but basically: Boa doesn't like Luffy romantically/sexually and just mistakes feeling safe with those types of attraction. I don't like the ship for that reason, and most shippers only ship them without having any understanding of their characters at all and because they just want a main straight pairing. It can be seen as problematic for the age gap and it's a running gag that can make people uncomfortable, yes, and I understand. But that does not make Boa a pedo/predator and y'all keep using those words very very freely to the point of them losing their true meaning.

Now this ended up being kind of an essay on them rather than my opinion so, TL;DR: I don't like the ship but they're cute friends.

[midnights-dragon]

My Good Omens Masterlist (midnightdragons on ao3)

I have a LOT, and if you just want the list on ao3, the full series is here. This list will be periodically updated, but feel free to reblog!

One-Shots:

Delicate (4,068 words) — Aziraphale attempts to calm and comfort Crowley after a nightmare about his Fall. Takes place sometime during the 11 years before the Not-Apocalypse. POV Aziraphale.

Your Beauty Never, Ever Scared Me (1,763 words) — Very short and sweet, also takes place sometime during the 11 years before the Not-Apocalypse; Aziraphale asks why Crowley keeps his sunglasses on around him. POV Aziraphale.

Ouroboros (7,796 words) — Takes place after season 2. In short, it's the obligatory 'Crowley coping terribly and Aziraphale coming to his senses and returning' fic that I wrote, of course, to cope after The Kiss. Lots of symbolism to a snake eating its tail, as well as the universe, as well as a spinning coin, as well as Crowley's dynamics with Muriel, Nina, and Maggie. POV Crowley.

Smokey Eyes (3,686 words) — Jimbriel lights a candle in the bookshop without knowing the rules, and Crowley is spooked at the scent of smoke in the shop. Aziraphale offers comfort. POV Crowley.

From Eden (11,085 words) — Another fic that takes place after season 2. Aziraphale returns to London after realizing the corruption in Heaven cannot be fixed, and seeks out Crowley in an attempt at reconciliation. Crowley doesn't believe him, thinking he's only there to trick him and then leave again, and Aziraphale finds himself expressing his apology in a less-than-conventional way. POV Aziraphale.

But The Smoke Clears When You're Around (4,967 words) — After the Armageddon that wasn't, Crowley can't rid himself of the trauma caused by a certain event, and shields himself with defensive anger and a mask of irritation. Aziraphale convinces him that it's okay to rest and recover. Pure sleepy fluff comfort and domestic intimacy. One of my personal favorites. POV Alternating.

lay my curses out to rest (make a mercy out of me) (8,438 words) — Greek Mythology AU; gorgon Crowley (like Medusa), and Greek warrior Aziraphale, who has been tasked to kill the monster. POV Aziraphale.

but i might be hopin' about this (oh, what a sin) (1,362 words) — After Aziraphale leaves, Crowley grieves, and listens to Hozier, and grieves some more. Mostly a songfic of From Eden. POV Crowley.

you fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time (but that's okay, I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine) (3,376 words) — Aziraphale falls asleep in the Bentley, and Crowley begrudgingly gives up his favorite pastime of violating traffic laws and breaking the sound barrier with Queen music to allow him to rest. Probably one of the fluffiest things I've ever written, because I just love sleepy intimacy. POV Crowley.

Great Divide (3,595 words) — The missing scene from s2ep6 of Crowley's full discussion with Maggie and Nina, where he tells someone, for the first time, the things he's felt that have gone unsaid for six thousand years. POV Crowley.

Penance That Comes With the Lack of Proper Closure (5,928 words) — Inspired by an ask (my asks are open for writing ideas/requests!) by @ineffableserpentsss. After the averted Apocalypse, Aziraphale forgets himself and sends a report to Heaven. This does not go over well, and Crowley is there to help Aziraphale process through the grief of being unwanted by his God. POV Aziraphale.

in the low lamplight i was free (heaven and hell were words to me) (2,017 words) — My own rendition of the infamous bus fics based on the newfound revelation that Crowley and Aziraphale canonically held hands on the bus. Casual intimacy, and cuddling, and the new beginning of 'their side'. POV Aziraphale.

Temporarily Not On Different Sides (or, the Beginning of Our Side) (3,757 words) — Set directly after the Job minisode; Aziraphale is grappling with the weight of his decisions against God's Will, and Crawley very awkwardly attempts to be a semblance of emotional support. Their (friendship? relationship? arrangement?) begins to develop in earnest. Ft. Crawley wiping away Holy Water tears. POV Aziraphale.

Snowflakes and Starshine (1,428 words) — Crowley and Aziraphale have holiday traditions, just like humans do. One of them: a silly competition to see if there's more star or angel decorations, respectively. Plotless Christmas/Holiday fluff. POV Aziraphale.

Nightingales Not Yet Sung (1,757 words) — Extended scene of Soho, 1967. Aziraphale expresses his worry for Crowley, and the tartan thermos of the Holiest Water. POV Crowley.

angel, just put your sweet lips on my lips (2,617 words) — Short and sweet season 3 speculation that I wrote to celebrate when it was confirmed, and borne in Neil's statement of 'they aren't talking'. It's very self-indulgent, with lots of kisses and a happy ending despite the angst. POV Aziraphale.

Nightingale's Lament (1,886 words) — Season 3 speculation fic. Crowley has to drive Aziraphale somewhere in the Bentley. They aren't talking. The Bentley is not going to stand for that. POV Crowley.

The Opposite of Eternal Damnation (2,349 words) — Fully inspired by Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach (or, the Crowley Therapy Fic) by Nnm — it's a missing scene of Aubrey, Crowley, and Aziraphale in the bookshop. Ft. Sleepy Intimacy and a therapist having many revelations about a client's rough exterior but soft interior. POV Aubrey Thyme/Outsider.

New Year's Resolutions (1,355 words) — This one's pretty self-explanatory, I wrote it for the New Year. Aziraphale and Crowley share New Year's Eve together in the bookshop, along with some extraordinary amounts of alcohol. Takes place before the Not-Apocalypse, sometime during the 11 years. POV Aziraphale.

it would feel like this (984 words) — Crowley has a migraine; Aziraphale takes care of him. Purely self-indulgent. POV Crowley.

Of Rosaries and Burnt Palms (1,516 words) — Aziraphale wears a rosary round the bookshop, and does not think of the consequences. Whumpy hurt/comfort. POV Aziraphale.

fell in love with the fire long ago (11,186 words) — Crowley is a firefighter; Aziraphale is an EMT. A First Responders Human AU one-shot of their 'first' (whumpy but fluffy) meeting, inspired by artwork by @tanpopomugishu. POV Crowley.

The Rules of Chess (977 words) — Crowley & Aziraphale enjoy playing chess in the bookshop. Plotless fluff, ambiguous POV but mostly Aziraphale-thoughts-centered. <3

Cast Thou Send Lightnings? (2,747 words) — Inspired by an ask from @moriarty4life; A brief argument between angel and demon spirals a bit out of control when Crowley's tendency to become struck by lightning when caught up in the throes of his smoking anger makes itself known. Basically; Crowley's lightning thing explained, but in an angsty way. POV Aziraphale.

Interlaced (896 words) — More plotless fluff! In a shared moment of peaceful intimacy in the South Downs, Aziraphale braids Crowley's hair. Inspired by an anonymous ask/request. POV Crowley.

soothe the burns on your palms (2,875 words) — Another work inspired by the art of @tanpopomugishu! Aziraphale has lost an emergency patient in his care, and Crowley comforts him. POV Crowley.

Early Mornings, Gentle Hands (694 words) — Also a work inspired by tanpopomugishu! An early morning of domestic love and peace for Aziraphale & Crowley in their South Downs cottage. POV Aziraphale.

nothing can get a look in on my baby (1,261 words) — An alternate scene of sorts. Aziraphale is the one to rescue Crowley from someone at the bar, with just a touch of angelic possessiveness; after all, no one hurts his demon. POV Aziraphale.

Multi-Chapters:

brought by the sunlight of the spirit (to pour into rain) (38,964 words, 7 chapters) — Please heed the tags with this one. Crowley is punished by Hell in the worst way imaginable, and is left in a state that leaves him, in his own words, broken. Aziraphale tries to pick up the pieces. POV Crowley.

Pull Up the Ladder When the Flood Comes (16,796 words, 3 chapters) — Crawley saves children during the Flood in Mesopotamia, and finds himself in an even more jeopardizing situation as he seeks out shelter. Aziraphale struggles with his own internal conflict, but attempts to help all the same. I wrote this for religious catharsis. POV Alternating.

you will crawl on your belly and eat dust all the days of your life (14,790 words, 5 chapters) — One of my personal favorites. Crowley sheds his skin; it's painful, and uncomfortable, and luckily for him only happens every few centuries. Unfortunately, he no longer has the luxury of a safe place to crawl away to and sleep thanks to Shax and Hell, as he is homeless, living in his Bentley; until the Bentley brings him to Aziraphale, who cares for a rather begrudging snake. POV Crowley.

Aim For My Heart (6,793 words, 2 chapters) — The second chapter is an NSFW/Smut ending. Missing scene from directly after the Bullet Catch scene, to the scene in the dressing room. Aziraphale didn't realize how genuinely scared Crowley was at the prospect of hurting him, and in fear, a lot of things are said, and a lot of things are revealed. POV Aziraphale.

i wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby (snap out of it) (24,075 words, 6 chapters) — Aziraphale comes back to Crowley after leaving for Heaven, but he is not Aziraphale; someone else has taken him over, with the intention of teaching him a lesson through Crowley's blood on his hands. I've been told that this one sends people into cardiac arrest, especially going in blind without reading the tags. POV Crowley.

Strays on the Street (54,252 words, 13 chapters) — This is the longest fic I have ever written, and it's a goddamn cat AU. I've made fanart of this. Crowley is a hardened, long-abandoned street cat, and Aziraphale has been recently kicked to the streets, sure that it must be some mistake and that his good owners are coming back at any moment. POV Alternating.

Coffee Breath (28,680 words, 6 chapters) — A rather cliche but cute human AU story with bookshop owner!Aziraphale, plant shop owner!Crowley, and a meet-cute involving spilt coffee, with angst but also lots of fluff because we all need a cute little story sometimes. Featuring a bonus chapter with their "first time." I have done multiple fan arts of this. POV Alternating.

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing (10,324 words, 3 chapters) — Aziraphale comes to Crowley's aid when the latter is attacked and left beaten by demons, and the angel takes care of him while he's too weak to do it himself. Very unapologetic whump and BAMF Aziraphale. POV Aziraphale.

Serpent's Requiem (6,520 words, 2 chapters) — Supreme Archangel Aziraphale recognizes a certain demon's signature when approving a contract for the new Duke of Hell. POV Aziraphale.

by his breath the skies became fair; his hand pierced the gliding serpent (12,639 words, 4 chapters) — Sequel fic to the shed fic! Crowley sheds again a century later, in the South Downs cottage, only this time he has Aziraphale at his side to help him through it. Contains vomiting, heed the tags! POV Crowley.

The Man In The Dark Glasses Pays Us Now (5,663 words, 2 chapters) — Wrecked with grief after the awful kiss and Aziraphale's departure for Heaven, Crowley finds himself months later standing at the doorstep to Soho's local brothel. But not for the reasons you might think. ANGST ENDING. POV Crowley.

Appendange (15,115 words, 4 chapters) — When coming back from a meeting in Hell, Crowley runs into Aziraphale, who is returning from a respective meeting with Heaven. However, the demon soon realizes that something is very, very wrong. Mostly an exploration of religious trauma. POV Alternating.

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you (TBD words, 7 chapters) — A WIP fic, 2 chapters posted (as of April 6th); the brainchild of @moriarty4life who requested it and it grew into way more than either of us imagined. Supreme Archangel Aziraphale finds himself sitting across the table from Crowley, Duke of Hell; but all is not as it seems, and is that the sigil of Lucifer branded around Crowley's neck like a collar? POV Alternating.

Happy reading! Thank you to everyone who's ever recommended one of my fics; it's always an astonishment.

[sitp-recs]

Save the Date by @mallstars

Harry/Draco (2023, Explicit, 123k)

In the twelve years after the war, Harry attends sixteen weddings. As friends and acquaintances vow their lives to one another, he watches quietly from the sidelines. Step by step, Harry pieces himself back together, builds a life from the wreckage of his past and falls, slowly and thoroughly, for Draco Malfoy. A story told in sixteen parts, of patient and transformative love, of queerness, of reaching out and holding on. Featuring plenty of pining, Gilderoy Lockhart getting married in a fever dream of glitter and product placement, and Rita Skeeter spitting a steady stream of venom at Harry and Draco's every move.

“Perhaps this was how much of Divination worked. Showing you something you wanted, or didn't want, and urging you along a path. Sitting in the freezing ground on a Bulgarian mountain as the sun commenced its journey up the sky, Harry made a decision. He would get to know someone, the way he knew Ron and Hermione. Better, even, if he was capable of that. It was evident, really, who he wanted that person to be - and Padma seemed to approve. It had to be Draco Malfoy.”

Since I’ve been talking and getting asks about my most recent read I’ve decided this would be a good opportunity to write a brand new rec, and hopefully send more people on their way to this story. I’ve been in the mood for longer fics lately but it’s getting harder and harder to binge anything over 30k, so instead of pressuring myself to rush through it I’ve decided to take my sweet time and embrace the experience over the past week.

Curiously, I found this fic thanks to the author herself! We bonded over our shared interest in a niche fic kink (isn’t that how it always starts!) and she mentioned that earlier this year she published her first fic, one she was very proud of. Naturally I had to ask for a link to check it out and I’m so happy that I did. This story is a long, aching and deeply emotional love letter to Harry, carefully exploring his trauma and post-war struggles in such a compassionate way it gave me a lump in the throat. From dealing with his childhood abuse and a general lack of sense of purpose after the war, to coming to terms with his fame and sexuality to finally allowing himself to be happy and fulfill his resolution: getting to know someone, deeply. I love how that scene puts everything into motion, giving the fic a magical and serendipitous tone that helped me get through the angsty slow burn knowing that Drarry was more than endgame, it was inevitable. The tea leaves willed so!!!!

We follow Harry’s melancholy and introspective POV for about 12 years, each one marked by a different wedding he attends. There’s this weary wistfulness about the way he sees things that really touched me, as he struggles to find his place and pines on for Draco. We celebrate the friends and acquaintances we get to know through his eyes, one wedding at a time - and what a fantastic cast! I especially loved seeing more of Angelina as she’s not usually explored in fic. From Blaise’s to Lockhart’s to Ron’s to Hagrid’s, each wedding ceremony offers a new setting for Harry’s self-reflection and advances the Drarry agenda offering him new ways to get to know Draco and himself. They don’t always meet or talk but Draco’s always at the back of his mind, even before the resolution is made, and I found that quite romantic!

I wasn’t expecting this fic to span over so many years but instead of never-ending pain where you don’t quite understand why they can’t kiss and make out already, Harry’s pining is soft and tentative; it allows him to grow, explore his own sexuality and learn how to be comfortable in his own skin before reaching out to Draco. Despite being unavailable for some time, we don’t really need Draco’s POV to know he’s aching for Harry just as desperately. But we do get a glimpse of his mind through their correspondence, which is how they actually fall in love.

Watching their friendship blossom through the letters made me so soft and happy I didn’t want it to end. I think that was my favourite chapter and and I’m not even that much of an epistolary enthusiast! But their written exchanges create the most delicious anticipation and oh, when they finally get together they’re both so sure and devoted to each other it feels earned and right. I love how the fic paces the progression of Harry’s initial obsession towards a calmer, reserved and patient love. Just like he wished many years before, he gets to know someone deeply: this reformed and fascinating tea shop owner Draco, who adores his mom, is there for his friends, says Harry’s name with adoration and has a fondness for flowers and owls 🥹

If you’re looking for a cathartic pining!Harry journey, with gentle slow burn and satisfying payoff - the endearments! the smut! be still my heart - this long fic is an absolute treat. Check it out today then let’s get started on @mallstars’s new time loop wip!

Read on AO3!