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fratttymatty · 1 day ago

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Rebooted

(All characters are 18+)

Dylan was never the type to blend in. At 18, he was finally stepping into his own skin, but still, it was a skin that felt different from the one others expected of him. Quiet, a little reserved, and gay—he had always gravitated toward the girls. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with the guys; it was just that the popular boys in school made him feel like an outsider. They had their own language—one filled with smug smirks, competition, and a kind of easy, cocky swagger Dylan had never quite been able to pull off. He didn’t try. He was comfortable where he was.

His circle of friends? A tight-knit group of girls who didn’t care about popularity, who didn’t care if he was gay. They just liked him for who he was. And that was enough.

But the universe, it seemed, had a different plan for Dylan.

It started on an ordinary Friday afternoon. The bell rang to signal the end of the school day, and Dylan found himself walking toward his usual hangout spot by the bleachers. His friends were there, chatting and laughing, with their bags scattered around. But as he approached, he saw a few unfamiliar faces. Guys. Popular guys. The ones who ruled the school.

"Hey, Dylan!" A familiar voice called out. It was Cassie, one of the cheerleaders and one of his closest friends. She waved him over. "Come sit with us! The gang’s all here."

Dylan hesitated. He wasn’t sure what Cassie meant by “the gang,” but when he looked closer, he saw a mix of familiar faces—and a few others that made his stomach twist: Brent, the captain of the football team, Jake, the guy who spent more time flexing in the mirror than doing anything else, and a few others—pretty much the whole ‘elite’ crew of jocks and their girlfriends.

Dylan felt his pulse quicken. There was no way he belonged here. This wasn’t his scene. But when he caught Cassie’s pleading look, he sighed and walked over, taking a seat on the edge of the table, keeping his distance from the popular crowd.

“Don’t be shy, bro,” Brent said, giving him a grin that was too wide, too knowing. “Get over here, man. We want you to meet the guys.”

Dylan shifted uncomfortably but complied, dragging his chair a little closer. What was going on?

From the moment he sat down, it was like the world around him began to shift, subtly at first. Brent and Jake exchanged glances, and the girls—who Dylan had always been so comfortable with—seemed to be watching him, their eyes glittering with an unsettling mixture of amusement and... something else.

“You know, Dylan,” Jake said, tossing a football up in the air and catching it easily, “You’ve got potential, man. You just don’t know it yet.”

Dylan blinked, not sure what he meant. “What do you mean?”

Brent leaned forward, his voice low but intense. “You’ve got the looks, you’ve got the brains, but you’re not playing the game right.” He glanced at the girls, then back at Dylan. “You need to be more... confident. More dominant.”

Dylan’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine with how I am…”

“Not anymore,” Jake said with a sly grin. “You’ve been hanging with the girls for too long. Time for a change.”

Before Dylan could react, he felt something strange tugging at his mind, like his thoughts were being rearranged in real time. A sharp pull, a weight that lifted, as if the part of him that had always felt like an outsider was suddenly... slipping away. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the feeling was too strong.

Cassie, perched next to him, leaned in, her voice dreamy and a little ditzy. “Like, oh my god, Dylan,” she said, flipping her hair, “you totes need to, like, show these guys what you’ve got, okay? You’re, like, way cooler than they think.” She giggled, not in a mocking way, but like she was excited by the idea.

Her words hit him like a wave. Everything in him was changing, shifting—and the more he thought about it, the more it felt right. This new version of himself started to form, like an empty vessel filling up with something brash, something confident, something that didn’t care about fitting in... because he was already at the top.

Before Dylan could say anything, his hair—the messy, untamed curls that had always been his trademark—began to change. It wasn’t like some sleek, polished version of cool. No. His hair became perfectly messy, tousled in a way that looked like he’d just woken up after an intense night of partying. There was no more worry about perfecting his style. Now, it was effortlessly good. His clothes, which had always been a little too... quirky for the jocks, seemed to rearrange themselves. His hoodie turned from an oversized, cozy piece into something more fitted and sleek, while his jeans tightened in a way that accentuated his newfound shape. His body felt stronger—sharper, like it had been sculpted into something more powerful.

And then the name came. The new name. The one that fit this new version of himself.

“I’m... Grayson,” he said, as if the name had always been there, waiting for him to claim it. He said it with an ease he didn’t know he had. It wasn’t Dylan. It wasn’t that version of him. Grayson sounded natural. It sounded right.

“Yeah, Grayson,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that felt more confident, more cocky than any expression he'd ever worn before. “That works.”

The transformation wasn’t just physical. His demeanor changed, too. His shoulders squared, his posture became straight and powerful. He was no longer the quiet, reserved guy at the edge of the group. Now, he was the center. He was Grayson, the guy who commanded attention without even trying. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that made him look untouchable.

Cassie’s eyes glittered. She leaned in, her voice giddy with excitement. “Like, Grayson, you’re so gonna crush it now, totes.” She giggled and then added, “You just need to, like, get with it, you know?”

Grayson didn’t even blink at her words. In fact, he liked that she thought this way, that she was already putting him in the same league as the other popular guys. He grinned, the kind of grin that sent a signal to everyone around him that he wasn’t just playing a part—he was the part.

Brent slapped him on the back, hard enough to make his chair rock. “Welcome to the team, Grayson. You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

Grayson barely acknowledged the slap, his eyes still focused on the rest of the table. He felt the change completely settle in now, like a tight, perfect fit. The old Dylan, the shy, gay kid who had always been friends with the girls, was gone. In his place was someone who belonged here, who was made for this world.

The following weeks passed in a blur, but Grayson didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore—except being the guy everyone wanted to be around. The girls? They loved him. The guys? They respected him, and he now knew how to play their game. Grayson was the new center of attention. He was the one who knew how to talk to the girls, how to charm them, how to make them laugh. He was also the one who owned his place on the football field. Every part of his old self, the insecure, unsure Dylan, was a distant memory now, fading like an old shadow.

His friends—the girls who had known him before, who had always been his comfort zone—tried to reach out. But Grayson was no longer the guy they’d once known. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone.

Because now, he was at the top. And he didn’t care if the world knew it.

Grayson finally understood: he was exactly who he was meant to be.

Grayson adjusted to his new life with startling speed. It was like stepping into a new suit that fit him perfectly, like the universe had always intended for him to wear this version of himself. The popular group quickly absorbed him into their fold, and he found himself in the spotlight at every school event, every party, every hangout. It was effortless. No more uncertainty, no more second-guessing himself. He was now everything he had once envied: confident, desirable, and completely at ease.

But then there was them.

It was a Friday afternoon, a week after Grayson had fully transitioned into the "popular" world, and he was lounging on the steps outside the gym, chatting with the football team. The guys were in the middle of a heated conversation about their latest game, but Grayson’s mind wasn’t on the game—it was on them. His old friends. The girls.

He hadn’t really thought about it until now, but something was tugging at him, pulling him back to those days when he’d hung out with Cassie, Hannah, Emily, and the others. The feeling was almost foreign now. He couldn’t pinpoint it.

But there they were, walking toward him, his old group, the ones he used to feel so comfortable with. They were coming from the cafeteria, laughing together as they approached.

"Grayson!" Cassie called, a huge grin lighting up her face. Her voice was still bubbly, still a little ditzy, but something was different now. The way she looked at him was no longer playful; it was... adoring.

Grayson stood, the casual confidence now completely woven into his movements. "Hey, girls," he said with a grin, giving each of them a nod as they stopped in front of him.

There was a hesitation in the air. Something was off.

Cassie twirled a strand of her hair, giving him a wide, almost dreamy look. "Like, we’ve missed you, Grayson," she said, her voice slow and a little breathless. “You, like, totally should hang with us more. We, like, never see you anymore.”

Hannah, another one of his old friends, smiled, but there was something different in her eyes—something more intense than before. "Yeah, we miss the old Dylan," she said quietly. But it wasn’t a complaint—it was more of a longing.

Grayson’s chest tightened, the old name feeling strange to hear. "Dylan? That was... a long time ago."

Emily, who had always been the most pragmatic of the group, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her arms folded. She didn’t smile, but her gaze lingered on him, trying to read him in a way that felt more like an interrogation. "You don’t really seem like the same person anymore," she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

Grayson, though, just smirked and leaned against the brick wall, his posture the very image of cocky indifference. "I’m not. Dylan’s gone, you know? Grayson’s the guy now."

The words rolled off his tongue effortlessly. It felt natural now, the confidence, the certainty that he didn’t need to explain himself anymore. Grayson was the guy—he was who everyone wanted to be. The truth of it had become ingrained in him, like a new set of rules he couldn’t ignore.

Cassie tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with what Grayson could only describe as admiration. "Well... I guess that’s, like, okay,” she said, giggling lightly. “I just, like, miss the old Dylan, you know? But... you look, like, way hotter now." She winked at him, giving him a flirtatious smile.

Grayson didn’t think twice about it. He wasn’t the shy, uncertain kid who had spent so much time with Cassie and the others. His world had changed, and now, he felt like a different person—a person who could look at Cassie and feel a twinge of something that was definitely not friendship.

The shift was obvious. Cassie wasn’t the only one.

Hannah’s gaze softened as she watched him, and he caught the way her eyes lingered on him a little too long. "You look different," she said, almost in awe. "Like, not just your hair and stuff... but, like, you are different."

Grayson could see it now. It wasn’t just about his new appearance��his new hair, his new clothes, the sharp edge to his smile—it was the way they were looking at him. They were looking at him like he was... more than their friend. They were seeing him as something else.

Something... attractive.

Grayson felt a flash of discomfort deep in his chest. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected them to want him—like that. This wasn’t the world he’d known. He wasn’t used to being the guy the girls crushed on, not like this. He was used to being the guy they confided in, the one who was always there, always supportive. He didn’t want this kind of attention.

He looked away, trying to push the feeling down. His mind raced for a moment. But then, a thought settled in his brain like a weight: It didn’t matter. He was Grayson now. He wasn’t that old version of himself. He wasn’t the shy, sensitive Dylan who had been more concerned with what his friends thought than anything else.

Grayson wasn’t gay. He wasn’t that guy anymore. The pieces of him that had once fit together in that old version of Dylan—the parts that had found comfort in the girls, in their easy friendship, in his secret crushes—had been wiped away. Now, he was the guy who could casually flirt with Cassie and laugh with Hannah and feel no need to question it. He didn’t feel the pull of something deeper.

He liked the attention, the way they looked at him, the way they were drawn to him now. He could be one of the guys. He was one of the guys. And he liked it.

“Yeah,” he said, straightening up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Things change, girls. But I’m still the same, just... better.”

That night, at the usual hangout, Grayson felt the weight of the shift settle in again. Cassie had been hovering, her flirtations becoming more obvious, and even Hannah’s glances had taken on a new intensity. It was as though they couldn’t help but be drawn to him, to the new Grayson.

He didn’t return their feelings, though. He didn’t feel anything for them, not the way they seemed to feel about him. It wasn’t the same anymore. His thoughts were consumed by the new life he was building. It wasn’t just about the looks—it was about the lifestyle. The world had opened up for him, and he was going to take it all, leaving his old self, his old connections, behind.

“Grayson,” Cassie cooed as she leaned in closer, “you, like, want to hang out later? We could, like, totally grab some coffee and talk... just the two of us?”

Grayson didn’t hesitate. He smiled that smile—the one that had turned into his signature look—and leaned back in his chair. “Sure, Cassie. I’m down. Let’s hang.”

He didn’t feel guilty. Not at all. He wasn’t the person he used to be. Dylan was a memory. Grayson was the here and now. And Grayson was straight.

No, there was no going back.

And for the first time in a long while, Grayson felt completely at ease.

Grayson was beginning to love the life he had created for himself. The popular guys had become his new best friends, the girls adored him, and the school seemed to revolve around him. It was like everything had clicked into place. He was no longer the shy, reserved Dylan who spent time with girls because he didn’t quite fit in with the guys. He was Grayson now, confident and cocky, moving seamlessly through a world where he was the center of attention.

But then there was Cassie.

Cassie had always been one of Grayson’s closest friends, the bubbly, talkative cheerleader with a contagious laugh and a constant stream of “like”s and “totes” in her conversations. But ever since Grayson had fully stepped into his new identity, she had been acting... a little different. More than just her usual ditzy self, she was acting more into him. Grayson couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lingered on him a little too long, how she laughed at his jokes a little too loudly, how she started to copy his every move, even the way he walked.

And that’s when it hit him—Cassie was changing too.

It was after school one day, a bright and sunny Tuesday, when Grayson noticed it the most. He had just finished practice and was heading toward the parking lot, his phone in hand, texting some of the guys about a party later that night. As he turned a corner, he saw her: Cassie, standing by the lockers, waiting for him, her eyes wide and sparkly.

"Grayson!" she squealed, bouncing on her toes as soon as she saw him. “O-M-G! Like, I totes need to talk to you!”

Grayson smirked and started to walk over, but as he did, he noticed something... different about her. She wasn’t wearing her usual cheerleader uniform or a cute casual look. No. Today, Cassie was rocking a tight pink crop top that showed off her midriff and a pair of high-waisted denim shorts that hugged her thighs in a way that screamed “summer girl vibes.” Her hair—usually soft and curly—was now sleek and straight, cascading over her shoulders like she had just walked out of a magazine shoot. And she wasn’t just standing there chatting. She was, like, posing—with her hand on her hip, lips pursed, head tilted in that adorable way she always did.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Cassie, you okay?" he asked, a bit more concerned than he’d intended. She was acting... well, a lot more than usual.

Cassie giggled, her high-pitched laugh ringing through the hallway. "Oh my god, Grayson!" she squealed, practically jumping into his arms as she gave him a hug. “Like, I’ve missed you SO much! You’re, like, soooo different now. Like, soooo much cooler than before!”

She pulled back and looked at him, eyes sparkling with what could only be described as adoration.

Grayson felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Not again. Was she... really looking at him like that?

He smiled, trying to brush off the unease. "Yeah, I’ve changed a little. Guess I’ve finally figured out how to play the game."

Cassie clapped her hands together with a high-pitched squee. “You’re, like, SOOOOO hot now, Grayson! It’s, like, soooo cute how you, like, don’t even care! I totes love that about you!”

Grayson chuckled, trying to keep his cool, but he noticed how Cassie was now practically hanging on his every word, her big, doe eyes locked on him, her lips parted slightly like she was waiting for him to say something profound. This wasn’t just Cassie anymore. She was, well... different.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier once you stop worrying about being anything other than yourself,” Grayson said with a wink, feeling a little too proud of how easily it came out.

Cassie’s face lit up with a giant grin. “O-M-G, Grayson! You, like, give the BEST advice! Totes inspiring, like, I feel like I need to, like, totally rethink my life!” She put a hand to her chin, pretending to think deeply, though her thoughts seemed far more on him than on anything else.

Grayson felt the transformation in her. It wasn’t just physical anymore. She was becoming more—more like him. More cocky, more confident, more willing to follow his lead.

“You know what, Grayson?” Cassie said suddenly, her voice turning more flirtatious. “I, like, totally wanna be, like, the coolest girl in school. Like, no one can touch me. You know? I just, like, wanna be like you!”

Grayson smirked again, the realization dawning on him: Cassie was changing to fit into this world too. It wasn’t just about her appearance anymore—she was adopting the confidence, the attitude, even the carefree flirtation he had mastered.

A few days passed, and the shift in Cassie became even more apparent. It was a Friday afternoon, and Grayson had just finished chatting with Brent and Jake about the upcoming weekend. As he turned to leave, he saw Cassie again—waiting for him by the entrance.

This time, she was... well, she was adorably out of control.

Cassie was wearing an oversized, pastel pink hoodie that hung off her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of a lacy bralette. She had teamed it with a pair of knee-high boots and a matching pink backpack with the word “LOVE” written across it in sparkly letters. Her hair was even more perfectly styled now, the loose curls giving her that “I woke up like this” vibe. She looked... so cute it was almost impossible to ignore.

But what really caught Grayson’s attention was the way she was acting.

“Oh my god, Grayson!” she exclaimed, practically skipping toward him. “Like, I TOTES just got the best idea!” Her eyes were wide, and her hands were flailing in the air as she practically bounced from foot to foot.

Grayson grinned at the sight, though there was something new in his gut. Cassie was different. She wasn’t just acting more like a popular girl—she was embracing it with everything she had.

“Yeah, what’s up, Cassie?” Grayson asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure if he was enjoying this or if he was starting to feel, well... a little guilty. She wasn’t just copying his attitude; she was, in some ways, losing herself in it.

“Oh my god, I’m, like, SO obsessed with you right now!” she said, giggling wildly, her voice so high-pitched now that it was almost cartoonish. “Like, we should totally, like, go shopping this weekend. I want, like, ALL the cutest outfits so I can look like you!” She twirled her hair and smiled at him like he was the most amazing person in the world.

Grayson chuckled, but there was a hint of something else in his chest now. Was this what he had become?

“Cassie, you’re already, like, super cute,” he said with a shrug, trying to brush off the weird feeling. “You don’t need to change for anyone.”

Cassie beamed, but then her face turned serious—well, as serious as Cassie could get.

“No, like, I totally do!” she said, throwing her arms wide, her oversized hoodie flaring out around her. “I wanna be, like, the hottest girl in school, and I think, like, I can do it now—like, with you!”

Grayson stood there for a moment, watching her bounce on her heels. And he couldn’t deny it—Cassie was starting to look... perfect. She had become the kind of girl who was always smiling, always laughing, always looking for the next thing to keep her cute, energetic world spinning. It was like watching a flower bloom into its full, exaggerated beauty.

He had to admit: Cassie was adorable. And in this world of confidence and cocky smiles, she fit in perfectly.

And, maybe—just maybe—Grayson liked that she had become his own little ditzy sidekick in this new world.

From then on, Cassie and Grayson were inseparable. She was his partner in crime, his cute, bubbly counterpart in the world of cool kids, and she had completely embraced it. No longer just the ditzy cheerleader, Cassie was now the ultimate girly-girl, obsessed with looking cute, acting cute, and being obsessed with Grayson.

And in her own way, she was no longer just trying to fit in. She was leading the pack, a version of herself that was just as untouchable as Grayson—cute, giggly, and completely at ease in her new world.

And together, they ruled it.

It was a Friday evening, just a week after Grayson and Cassie had fully slipped into their new personas. The school year had settled into its rhythm, and the pair of them had become inseparable. Grayson, now at the top of the social ladder, and Cassie, who had gone from the cute, ditzy cheerleader to the ultra-confident, bubbly "it girl," were always together. They were the couple everyone talked about, even if they hadn’t officially defined it yet.

It wasn’t like Grayson hadn’t thought about it. Cassie had become more than just his friend—more than just the girl he spent time with to pass the time. There was something about her energy, the way she was always there, her wide eyes that sparkled every time she looked at him. It was impossible to ignore.

And as for Cassie, she had never been more obsessed with someone in her life. Her crush on Grayson, which had started as innocent admiration, had deepened into something more. She liked him more than just for his looks or popularity. She liked the way he made her feel like she was the most important person in the room, the way he casually made everything seem so easy.

It was at the party that weekend when it finally clicked.

The music thumped through the walls of the house as Grayson leaned against the kitchen counter, a solo cup in his hand, chatting with some of the guys. He could see Cassie across the room, surrounded by her usual group of friends, but her eyes were fixed on him—no surprise there. She was always watching him, always a little bit in awe of him, like he was the sun and she was orbiting around him.

Grayson’s smirk curled up at the corners of his lips. She was cute, no doubt about it. And the way she acted around him—well, it wasn’t just cute anymore. It was kind of perfect.

And then, in that moment, something shifted. Cassie’s laugh, high-pitched and slightly off-key, rang out as she chatted with some of the other girls, but it wasn’t just a casual laugh. It was a flirty laugh. And when she caught his gaze from across the room, she tilted her head and blew him a kiss.

Cassie had been working her way through the crowd, and before Grayson could even process it, she was standing next to him, her wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him. Her oversized pink hoodie hung off one shoulder, revealing a lacy bralette, and her perfectly styled hair bounced as she tilted her head to look up at him.

"Hi, Grayson!" she cooed, her voice full of that sweet, innocent energy that made Grayson feel like he could melt into the floor. She leaned against him just a little too casually, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she was very much in his personal space now.

"Hey, Cassie," he replied, his voice a little quieter, the weight of her proximity catching him off guard. He casually brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “You’re looking... really cute tonight."

Cassie giggled, a sound that was so adorably high-pitched it could have been straight out of a rom-com. She batted her eyelashes at him. “Aww, you, like, think so? I, like, totally spent, like, a million hours picking this outfit, so I’m so glad you noticed!"

Grayson couldn’t help but laugh. Cassie. The girl who had once been his carefree friend—always happy, always a little clueless—was now the one who had his full attention. She was confident, sure, but still that cute, bubbly, ditzy energy he couldn’t get enough of.

“Yeah, you look... perfect,” Grayson said, leaning closer, a slow grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t deny it. She was perfect. In her own way.

Cassie’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she giggled again, the sound making Grayson’s heart skip a beat.

“Grayson...” she trailed off, her eyes gleaming as she stared up at him. “Like, I totally have a confession to make.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

Cassie, looking up at him with those huge puppy-dog eyes, took a deep breath. “Well, like, I’ve, like, really liked you for a long time, but I was too shy to say anything.” She let out a little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I think you’re, like, sooo amazing and cool, and, like, I’m not even sure why I didn’t notice it sooner! But, like, I just, like, wanna be with you... y’know?”

Grayson’s heart skipped, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He had always thought of Cassie as his friend. She had been the cute, bubbly girl he spent time with, but this was... different. She wasn’t just his friend anymore.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d started to feel the same way.

He smiled, his hand finding the small of her back, pulling her gently closer. “Cassie... I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” he said, his voice low and genuine.

She blinked, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Really?! Oh my god, I, like, totally can’t believe you just said that!”

Before Grayson could respond, Cassie’s hands were on his shoulders, and with a sudden burst of energy, she was kissing him, her lips soft and full of that cute, bubbly warmth that was so Cassie. Grayson didn’t hesitate for a second. He kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her even closer.

It wasn’t a deep, passionate kiss—not yet. But it was the kind of kiss that was sweet, electric, and filled with the promise of more. When they pulled away, Cassie was practically glowing, her face flushed, her hands still holding onto his shoulders like she never wanted to let go.

“Oh my god, Grayson, I’m, like, so happy right now,” Cassie said, her voice high-pitched and full of that giddy excitement. “Like, you’re so perfect! You’re, like, the guy of my dreams!”

Grayson chuckled, still holding her close. “I’m glad you think so, Cassie. Because, like... you’re kind of the girl of mine.”

Cassie beamed, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer to his. “Like, this is SO cute. I, like, can’t believe we’re, like, together now! I’m totally obsessed with you, Grayson!”

“Same here,” he said with a smirk, feeling that familiar surge of confidence and excitement wash over him.

They were no longer just friends. No longer just two people who shared casual flirtations and hangouts. They were a couple now—a power couple in this new world they had created for themselves. And it felt right.

From that night on, Grayson and Cassie were inseparable. They were the couple everyone envied—the girl who was effortlessly cute, bubbly, and ditzy, and the guy who was effortlessly cool, confident, and cocky. Together, they ruled the school, and nothing could pull them apart.

And for Grayson, the guy who had once doubted his place in this world, it felt like he was finally, truly home.

#male tf #male tf story #gay to straight #nerd to jock #female tf #female tf story #bimboification

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badger-tales · 15 hours ago

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potion of persuasion// J.P x Reader

a/n: should i do a love potion series ???

request: Hellooo I'm usually too shy to request anything but after seeing your post and reading some of your fics I just thought; 'eeeeh why not' so here I am! (might be a lil' crackfic-y hope thats okay :3)

I'd like to request a james potter x reader fic where remus and sirius have gotten tired seeing the two awkwardly tip toe around each other so they planned to put a sort of love/confidence boost (?) potion into his drink so he'd finally be done with it! But uh oh, pads accidently bought one with really strong effects that have our prongsie standing up on tables in his socks and underwear as he professes his love to the reader. Chaos ensues basically..

hope this wasn't too long, also don't forget to take breaks and drink lots of water! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

word count: 5.2k

The Gryffindor Common Room was alive with its usual evening chatter, the glow from the fireplace casting a warm, golden light over the red-and-gold tapestries. The laughter of your friends filled the cozy space as you sat cross-legged on one of the worn-out couches, listening to Marlene's latest exaggerated tale about a Quidditch practice gone wrong.

Across the room, James Potter sat hunched in a velvet armchair, his eyes darting from the book in his lap to you every few seconds. He had chosen a random Transfiguration text as a flimsy excuse to be near you, but it was clear he hadn’t read a single word. Every time your laughter rang out, he stiffened, pretending to adjust his glasses while sneaking another glance in your direction.

You could feel his gaze like a warm breeze tickling the back of your neck. It sent a flutter through your stomach every time you dared to look back at him—only to find him hastily redirecting his eyes to his book, cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. The air between you both was charged, electric with unsaid words and shy, stolen glances.

Meanwhile, at a table nearby, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were deep in conversation, but their attention kept drifting toward you and James. Sirius leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin playing on his lips, arms crossed over his chest as he watched his best friend struggle.

Sirius tilted his head toward James, letting out a low, amused chuckle.

"Prongs is never going to get his act together, is he?" he drawled, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table.

Remus sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His book lay open, but like James, he hadn't absorbed a single word.

"Honestly, I've been watching this dance for weeks," Remus replied, voice low enough to avoid being overheard. "They’re driving me mad. He’s hopeless."

Sirius let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in mock despair.

"You’d think the great James Potter, star Seeker and Head Boy, would have the courage to ask her out by now," Sirius mused, eyes glinting with mischief.

James chose that moment to sneak another glance at you, only to lock eyes with you unexpectedly. Your breath hitched, and you quickly turned back to your friends, pretending to listen to Dorcas Meadowes' story. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, and you prayed no one noticed the heat creeping up your neck.

Sirius barked out a laugh as he caught James turning back to his book, looking like he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Pathetic," Sirius muttered under his breath. He glanced at Remus, eyebrows raised. "We may need to intervene, Moony. At this rate, they'll be married with three kids before he works up the nerve to say a word."

Remus chuckled softly but nodded in agreement, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"As much as I’d enjoy watching him suffer," Remus said with a teasing grin, "this is getting painful. For all our sakes, we might have to give them a nudge."

Sirius's grin widened as an idea began to form. He leaned in closer, voice lowered conspiratorially.

"Alright, Moony. But if we’re going to play matchmaker, we better do it in style."

The two of them exchanged a look that could only mean trouble—the kind of look that usually preceded a night of pranks and mayhem. Remus shook his head with a fond smile, but there was a glint in his eye that suggested he was fully on board.

Unaware of the scheming happening just a few feet away, you peeked at James again, catching him glancing at you for what felt like the hundredth time. This time, he didn’t look away, his hazel eyes softening with something unspoken. The moment hung suspended in the air like a delicate charm—fragile, fleeting, and full of possibility.

But just as you opened your mouth to say something, Sirius’s voice rang out across the common room.

"Oi, Prongs!" he called with a wicked grin. "You do realize books aren’t edible, right? You’ve been staring at that one like it’s a steak dinner."

James’s head snapped up, his face turning beet red. Your friends turned to look, giggling, and you hid your smile behind your hand, eyes twinkling with amusement.

James shot Sirius a glare, but there was a hint of a grateful smile lurking at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the push he needed.

The Gryffindor Common Room gradually quieted down as the evening wore on, with students either heading to bed or settling into more relaxed conversations. The fire crackled gently, casting dancing shadows on the walls. James had finally managed to bury his nose back in his book, though his eyes kept flickering up to you every few moments. You had shifted to a quieter spot by the window, pretending to read a novel but stealing glances at James just as often.

Meanwhile, Sirius and Remus had retreated to a secluded corner of the common room, where the firelight flickered just dimly enough to keep them hidden from prying eyes. Sirius was rummaging through his school bag, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he pulled out a small vial filled with shimmering, pinkish liquid.

"Padfoot, what’s that?" Remus asked, arching a suspicious eyebrow.

Sirius held the vial up triumphantly, the liquid inside catching the light and swirling like liquid starlight.

"My dear Moony, this," he declared in a hushed tone, "is the solution to our lovesick friend’s dilemma."

Remus’s eyes narrowed.

"Please tell me you haven’t gone and brewed some ridiculous potion."

Sirius shook his head, looking positively offended.

"I didn't brew it—picked it up from Zonko’s," he corrected with a smug grin. "It’s called the ‘Love and Confidence Elixir.’ Just a tiny sip, and our dear Prongs will have all the courage he needs to finally confess his undying love."

Remus’s expression was skeptical, as always.

"Love and confidence, you say?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Sirius, you can’t just spike James’s drink. What if it’s not as harmless as you think?"

But Sirius was undeterred, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Oh, come on, Moony. It’s just a bit of fun. The bloke’s been mooning over her for months, and all it’ll do is give him a little... push." He gave Remus a cheeky grin, wiggling his eyebrows. "No harm done. Besides, you saw him tonight—he’s hopeless."

Remus hesitated, glancing over at James, who was currently pretending to listen to something Peter was saying but was clearly distracted by the sight of you by the window. Remus sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine," he relented, albeit reluctantly. "But if this backfires, Padfoot, it’s on your head. And you’ll be the one explaining it to McGonagall."

Sirius beamed triumphantly, already pulling a flask of Butterbeer from his bag.

"Relax, Moony. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s just a confidence boost, nothing more."

However, what Sirius didn’t realize—and Remus didn’t catch either—was that the vial he’d grabbed wasn’t a simple “Love and Confidence Elixir” but something far stronger. In his rush to purchase the potion, Sirius had accidentally picked up a mislabeled “Passion Potion”, notorious for making the drinker act on their deepest feelings with absolutely no inhibitions.

The common room was quieter now, most students having either gone to bed or become absorbed in their own conversations. It was the perfect opportunity. With a sly glance at Remus, Sirius uncorked the vial and quickly poured a generous splash into James’s Butterbeer, the pink potion swirling and dissolving seamlessly into the amber liquid.

"Keep watch, Moony," Sirius whispered. Remus, despite his reservations, did as instructed, glancing around to ensure no one was paying attention to them.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Sirius slid the Butterbeer back into place just as James turned back to their table.

"There you are, Prongs," Sirius said with a disarming smile. "You look parched, mate. Have a drink."

James, unaware of the potion-infused Butterbeer, shot Sirius a grateful smile before taking a long gulp.

"Thanks, Padfoot," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look, holding their breaths as they waited for the potion to take effect. At first, nothing seemed to happen. James continued chatting with Peter, appearing no different than before. Sirius was starting to wonder if the potion had even worked when, all of a sudden, James’s gaze snapped back to you across the room.

The change was almost instantaneous—his hazel eyes darkened, his usual hesitant demeanor melting away, replaced with an intensity neither Remus nor Sirius had ever seen before.

"Uh oh," Remus muttered under his breath, his stomach twisting with unease as James got up from his seat, his book abandoned. Sirius, however, was too busy stifling a triumphant laugh to notice Remus’s worried expression.

"Looks like it’s working perfectly," Sirius whispered, elbowing Remus. But as James began making a beeline toward you, his confident strides more determined than usual, Remus couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously off.

The Gryffindor Common Room continued to hum softly with conversations and the occasional crackle from the fireplace, but for Sirius and Remus, everything was suspended in a tense bubble as they watched James from their corner.

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Honestly, Moony, I think we got swindled," he muttered under his breath. "Should’ve known Zonko’s was selling rubbish. I told you it was a waste of time."

Remus, however, wasn’t so sure. He was keeping a careful eye on James, who had just downed the last of his potion-laced Butterbeer. For a moment, James seemed completely normal—leaning back in his chair, laughing at something Peter said. But then, Remus noticed it: a sudden, almost imperceptible change. James’s eyes snapped up, locking onto you from across the room with an intensity that was almost unnerving.

"Uh, Padfoot..." Remus began, nudging Sirius and nodding toward their friend.

James’s usual shy, hesitant demeanor was gone in an instant. His hazel eyes widened, as if he’d just had the most brilliant revelation of his life. The corners of his lips twitched upward into a wild grin, and before anyone could make sense of it, he stood up abruptly, sending his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

Sirius’s eyes went wide with surprise.

"Merlin’s beard, it’s working!" he whispered, half in awe, half in panic.

But this was no subtle boost of confidence. James was on a mission—one driven by the potion that now coursed through his veins, amplifying his emotions to the point of reckless abandon. He began making his way toward you with a determined stride, bumping into a few scattered chairs and narrowly avoiding colliding with a group of younger students playing Exploding Snap.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a panicked look. This was definitely not the effect they were expecting.

"Prongs, wait—", Remus started to call out, but it was too late. James was already halfway across the room, moving with a speed that had you blinking in confusion.

You’d been absorbed in a conversation with Lily and Marlene, trying to distract yourself from the warmth that had spread through your cheeks after exchanging glances with James earlier. But the moment you heard the loud clatter, you looked up to see him striding straight toward you—eyes wide, grinning like a madman, and moving with a kind of confidence that was utterly foreign to the James Potter you knew.

"James?" you asked, your brow furrowing. Something about his expression seemed... off. You tried to read the intent behind his wild gaze, but before you could even register what was happening, he was standing directly in front of you, almost uncomfortably close.

The entire common room seemed to fall into a stunned silence, all eyes now glued to the two of you.

"There you are!" James practically shouted, his grin impossibly wide. His voice carried an uncharacteristic enthusiasm that had your friends exchanging confused looks behind you.

"I’ve been wanting to talk to you all night!"

You blinked, caught completely off guard. This was not the shy, stammering James you were used to. Your heart pounded in your chest, partly from the sheer bewilderment of it all and partly from the intensity of his gaze.

"Oh, uh, really?" you managed, your voice wavering. "What did you want to talk about?"

But instead of answering, James leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I’ve been thinking..." he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "You’re absolutely brilliant, you know that? And I... well, I just couldn’t hold it in any longer."

The sudden proximity and the fervor in his words left you momentarily speechless. James Potter, the boy who usually turned red at the mere thought of a compliment, was now standing inches away, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

Behind him, Remus was frantically mouthing something to Sirius, who was trying (and failing) to suppress his laughter.

"Okay, maybe I gave him a bit too much," Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t quite wipe the grin off his face.

"Sirius, this isn’t funny," Remus hissed, watching as James practically vibrated with the need to say more. "We have to do something before he embarrasses himself... or worse."

But before they could intervene, James, still under the potion’s influence, reached out to gently cup your cheek, his eyes softening as they locked with yours.

"I’ve liked you for ages," he confessed, the words tumbling out of his mouth like he couldn’t stop them even if he tried. "You’re brilliant, and beautiful, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why I haven’t told you sooner."

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. Part of you wanted to laugh, thinking this had to be some elaborate prank. But the look in his eyes was so earnest, so raw, that it made your breath catch.

Suddenly, the room erupted in gasps and stifled giggles as Sirius and Remus finally sprang into action, darting forward to grab James by the shoulders and pull him back before he could blurt out anything else.

"Alright, Prongs, I think that’s enough honesty for one night," Sirius said, half-laughing as he tried to steer James away.

But James, still grinning like he’d just won the Quidditch Cup, waved them off with an exaggerated flourish.

"No, no, I’m not done! I need to tell her—"

"Yes, you are," Remus insisted, giving Sirius a panicked look. "Come on, mate, let’s get you some fresh air."

As the two of them practically dragged a protesting James out of the common room, you were left standing there, cheeks flushed, heart racing, and mind whirling with what had just transpired. Around you, your friends erupted into laughter and teasing whispers, but all you could do was stare after James’s retreating form, wondering what on earth had just happened—and if, maybe, there was a hint of truth behind his unexpected confession.

The chaos that ensued after James’s sudden declaration hadn’t even begun to settle when he suddenly broke free from Sirius and Remus’s grasp, stumbling back toward the center of the Gryffindor Common Room. A wild grin still plastered on his face, he leapt onto one of the tables, nearly knocking over a stack of textbooks.

"Prongs, no—!" Sirius hissed, his voice urgent as he scrambled after him. But it was too late.

James threw his arms wide, eyes glinting with mischief, the potion clearly pushing him to act on every impulse without a shred of hesitation. He stood there like a performer taking center stage, chest heaving as if preparing for the grandest of confessions.

"Alright, fine, you lot want a show?!" he shouted to the room, which had now gone completely silent except for a few barely stifled giggles. His eyes found you once more, his gaze so intense it felt like he was staring straight into your soul.

Remus, who had momentarily been caught in the whirlwind of it all, finally snapped into action.

"Sirius, do something!" he urged, voice tight with panic as he flipped open the Potions textbook he’d snatched from the nearby table. His fingers flew over the pages, trying to find something—anything—that would reverse whatever chaos Sirius had unleashed.

But Sirius was having his own struggles.

"Alright, Prongs, let’s just... quiet you down a bit, yeah?" he muttered to himself, wand already in hand. He aimed it at James, intent on casting a silencing spell.

Unfortunately, the spell backfired spectacularly. Instead of quieting James, it seemed to amplify his voice, and before anyone could stop him, he launched into a passionate serenade:

"Oh, the way you smile, it lights up the night,

Brighter than a thousand stars so bright—"

James’s voice echoed through the common room, shockingly clear and shockingly loud. He had one hand over his heart and the other dramatically extended toward you, as if you were the only one in the room.

You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and—admittedly—a bit of flattery. The whole room was roaring with laughter now, students doubled over, tears streaming down their faces. Even Lily Evans, who had been quietly reading by the fire, was shaking with laughter.

"Merlin’s beard, this is a disaster!" Remus muttered, frantically flipping through the Potions textbook. "Why did you have to give him the whole bloody vial, Sirius?"

"I didn’t know it would turn him into a bloody Shakespeare!" Sirius retorted, wincing as James hit an impressively high note. "This is Zonko’s fault, not mine!"

Meanwhile, James, entirely lost in the throes of the potion, began to loosen his tie with one hand while continuing his off-key serenade.

"For you, my love, I’d dance through fire!

Your beauty, your wit—I’ll never tire!"

"Oh no, no, no, no," Sirius groaned as James began unbuttoning his shirt. "Prongs, stop it! You’re going to scar these poor children for life!" He leapt forward, grabbing James by the waistband and trying to wrestle him back down to earth.

But James was surprisingly strong under the influence of the potion. He twisted out of Sirius’s grasp, managing to lose a couple more buttons in the process, revealing the faint outline of his Quidditch-toned abs. A few younger Gryffindors shrieked in shock, while others cheered him on, treating this like the best entertainment they’d had all term.

Remus’s frustration grew more palpable by the second as he scanned the Potions book, muttering curses under his breath. His eyes finally landed on a section that seemed promising.

"Aha! The antidote—it’s a mix of powdered moonstone and syrup of hellebore," he said, turning to Sirius with a desperate look. "But we need to get him to calm down first, or it won’t work."

"Calm him down?!" Sirius shouted, dodging James’s flailing arm as he tried to pull the boy’s shirt back over his shoulders. "We can’t even get him off the bloody table!"

James, now with half his shirt hanging off one shoulder, raised his arms for a grand finale.

"Oh, my darling, my heart is yours!

Now and forever, through any wars!"

You were torn between wanting to laugh and wishing you could simply vanish into thin air. But despite the mortification of being the target of James’s wild serenade, a tiny, fluttering part of you couldn’t help but feel... touched? The way he was looking at you, even if it was because of a potion, held a sincerity that made your heart stutter.

"That’s it," Remus said through gritted teeth, closing the book with a snap. "We’re doing this the hard way." He pulled out his wand, ready to attempt a counter-spell to at least calm James down enough to administer the antidote.

But before Remus could cast anything, Sirius finally managed to grab James around the middle, yanking him off the table. The two of them crashed to the floor in a heap, tangled limbs and laughter echoing through the room.

"Remus, now!" Sirius yelled, struggling to keep James pinned. "Before he breaks into an encore!"

Amidst the chaos, all you could do was watch, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite untangle. Part of you wanted to run over and help them—another part just wanted to keep watching James make a fool of himself, because somehow, in the midst of all this madness, he looked impossibly, endearingly charming.

The Gryffindor Common Room had turned into absolute pandemonium, with students shouting encouragements, laughing, and clapping along as James continued his wild serenade. Remus and Sirius were still struggling to contain him, and every failed attempt only seemed to fuel James’s increasingly unhinged performance.

But then, just when it seemed like there was no end in sight, Remus’s eyes lit up as he finally found the counter-spell.

"This better work," he muttered under his breath, raising his wand with determination. He sent a quick incantation into the air, releasing a stream of calming blue sparks that cascaded like gentle raindrops over James.

The effect was almost instantaneous. James froze mid-verse, one arm still outstretched dramatically toward you, his voice dying in his throat as the potion’s influence melted away. For a heartbeat, the entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Then, clarity returned to James’s hazel eyes. He blinked several times, looking around the room as if waking from a dream, only to realize that he was standing on a table... wearing nothing but his underwear and an unbuttoned shirt.

The color drained from his face as the full weight of what he’d just done hit him.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, his voice cracking. He stumbled down from the table, desperately trying to pull his shirt closed, cheeks flaming so brightly they almost matched the Gryffindor colors.

"I—uh—", he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood awkwardly in front of you. The entire common room was still buzzing with laughter and whispers, but James only had eyes for you. "I... I’m so sorry. I don’t know what—"

Before he could finish his apology, you surprised everyone by bursting into laughter. You tried to cover your mouth with your hands, but the giggles kept spilling out, your eyes shining with genuine amusement.

"Oh, James," you managed between laughs, "I think that was the most... creative confession I’ve ever seen."

James’s eyes widened in disbelief. He’d expected you to be furious, embarrassed, or even disgusted, but instead, you were laughing—really laughing. The tension that had wound tight in his chest began to loosen, and though his face was still beet red, he couldn’t help the small, relieved smile that tugged at his lips.

"Y-You’re not... angry?" he asked, still bewildered, glancing down at his disheveled state.

You shook your head, stepping closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear, the laughter in your eyes softening into something warmer.

"Honestly, I’ve never been serenaded before," you teased, "especially not by someone standing on a table in their underwear." You couldn’t resist adding with a playful grin, "I think I might even be flattered."

James let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his shoulders finally relaxing.

"Well... that’s good," he said with a crooked smile, his confidence slowly creeping back now that he knew you weren’t mortified. "Because I think I just set a record for the world’s most embarrassing declaration of feelings."

You laughed again, your cheeks tinged pink as you replied,

"Definitely unforgettable, Potter."

Behind you, Sirius and Remus exchanged relieved grins, both of them panting slightly from their efforts. Sirius punched Remus lightly on the shoulder.

"See, Moony? Told you it would all work out," he said with a wink.

Remus rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

"Yes, but next time, maybe we use our words instead of potions?"

As the laughter in the common room slowly died down and students began to drift away, content with the evening’s unexpected entertainment, James took a tentative step closer to you.

"I, uh... I meant what I said, you know," he murmured, his voice low and earnest now that the chaos had settled. "Even if it came out in the most ridiculous way possible."

You felt your heart flutter at the sincerity in his eyes. The bravado, the showmanship—all of that had faded, leaving just James standing there, looking at you with that earnest, slightly sheepish expression that had always made your heart skip a beat.

"I know," you said softly, smiling up at him. "And... for what it’s worth, I’m glad you finally told me."

James’s eyes lit up, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

"Well, maybe next time, I’ll do it without the theatrics," he teased, scratching the back of his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking your head.

"Oh, please, Potter. Like you could ever resist making a scene."

And with that, the tension between you two seemed to melt away entirely, replaced with a newfound ease. As the common room emptied out, Sirius threw an arm around James’s shoulders, winking at you.

"Come on, Prongs. Let’s get you some proper clothes before you catch a cold."

As they walked away, James turned back to look at you one last time, his eyes filled with a soft, unspoken promise. And for the first time, you found yourself looking forward to what tomorrow might bring—now that the air was finally clear.

The common room had finally quieted down, the raucous laughter and excited whispers fading as students slowly trickled out, heading to their dormitories with wide grins and lingering glances back at James. The fire had burned lower, casting a warm, flickering glow that painted the room in soft, amber tones.

By now, most of the chaos had settled, but James Potter remained by the fireplace, staring into the dancing flames with a look that was uncharacteristically solemn. He was now fully dressed, though his shirt was still slightly askew, and his hair—if possible—looked even messier than usual.

You approached quietly, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the thick rug underfoot. As you drew closer, you could see the slight furrow in his brow, the way he absently chewed on his lower lip, clearly lost in thought. The bravado and wild confidence that the potion had given him had evaporated, leaving him looking... vulnerable.

"Hey, Potter," you said softly, stopping just a few feet away.

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, turning to face you with wide eyes.

"Oh, hey," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze. "I... uh... didn’t think you’d want to talk to me after that whole... spectacle."

You couldn’t help but smile at how shy he suddenly seemed, so different from the overly confident boy who had just serenaded you in front of half of Gryffindor House. Taking a seat beside him on the couch, you nudged him playfully with your shoulder.

"You know," you began, your voice soft, "you didn’t need a potion to win me over."

James’s head snapped up, his eyes searching yours, hope flickering in them like the flames in the hearth.

"Wait... what?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat under his intense gaze.

"Yeah," you said with a small, shy smile. "I’ve... liked you for a while too. You’ve just never seemed to notice."

A mix of relief and disbelief washed over James’s face. He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair.

"Merlin, I’ve been such an idiot, haven’t I?" he muttered. "All this time, I thought you were out of my league."

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"James, you didn’t need to drink some ridiculous potion to tell me how you felt," you said, your voice turning a bit gentler. "I would’ve said yes if you’d just asked me... without all the theatrics."

He let out a breath, his shoulders finally relaxing, and a genuine, heartfelt smile spread across his lips—a stark contrast to the wild, potion-induced grin from earlier.

"In that case," he said, leaning in slightly, his voice low and sincere, "would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? No potions, no serenades—just us?"

Your heart fluttered at the warmth in his eyes, and you nodded, returning his smile.

"I’d love that, James," you said softly.

James’s smile grew even brighter, his hazel eyes shining with a happiness that was entirely unguarded. Without the potion, without the chaos, he was just James—sweet, earnest, and charmingly awkward.

As the two of you shared a quiet, lingering moment, the sound of muffled laughter drifted over from the other side of the room. Turning your heads, you spotted Sirius and Remus lounging casually at a nearby table, watching the two of you with smug grins.

Sirius gave Remus an exaggerated clap on the back.

"See, Moony? What did I tell you? Our plan worked perfectly!" he declared, his voice low enough not to disturb your conversation but loud enough for you both to hear.

Remus shook his head, though he was smiling.

"You mean your accidental plan," he corrected, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the effect you were aiming for."

But Sirius just shrugged, flashing a triumphant grin.

"Details, details. The point is, it worked," he insisted. "Now Prongs has a date, and we’ve provided the entertainment of the year. I’d call that a success."

James groaned but couldn’t quite hide his smile as he turned back to you.

"I suppose I owe them a thank you," he said, his tone begrudging but playful.

"Or a very, very stern lecture," you teased, giggling softly.

He laughed, his eyes twinkling as he reached for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring.

"I think I’ll settle for just focusing on next weekend," he said, squeezing your hand gently. "No potions this time. Just you and me."

And as you sat there, the warmth of the fire enveloping you both, it felt like the start of something new—something that had been brewing for a long time, even if it had taken a wild potion-induced serenade to bring it to the surface.

In the background, Remus and Sirius watched with satisfied grins, Remus leaning back in his chair with a soft sigh.

"Alright, Padfoot, you were right... this time," Remus admitted.

"Of course I was!" Sirius crowed, throwing an arm around Remus’s shoulders. "Now, what do you say we get some Butterbeer to celebrate my brilliance?"

As they made their way toward the portrait hole, the two of you shared a look, both shaking your heads fondly at your friends' antics. But as James’s hand tightened around yours, you realized you wouldn’t change a single thing about how this night had unfolded.

It had been chaotic, ridiculous, and more than a little embarrassing, but it had also brought you closer than you’d ever thought possible. And that, you decided, was entirely worth it.

#james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders

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peppymintdreams · 1 day ago

Text

You a Sickie Baby?

Elias x Barista

Elias is sick and Nurse barista is here to take care of the huge baby

Elias hated being sick. He was used to being the protector, the one in charge, the one who never let anything—especially something as ridiculous as a cold—slow him down. But this time, he couldn't deny it: he was miserable.

Curled up on the couch, buried under a pile of blankets, his usually sharp, confident demeanor had been replaced by groggy eyes and a stuffy nose. His hair was a mess, and he had a box of tissues beside him that was already half empty.

Barista, on the other hand, was in full caretaker mode. They floated around the room, making sure he had everything he needed. Warm tea? Check. Soup simmering on the stove? Check. A constant supply of tissues and medicine? Check.

"How are you feeling now?" Barista asked, kneeling beside the couch and brushing a few stray locks of hair from Elias' forehead.

Elias let out a low groan, turning his face away in mock protest. "I’m fine. You don’t need to fuss."

"You’re not fine," Barista said, clearly unconvinced. "You sound like a clogged toilet. You acting like it too your full of shit"

Elias grumbled something under his breath, pulling the blanket higher over his face to hide his embarrassment. "I don’t need to be babied," he muttered.

Barista chuckled softly, clearly enjoying this rare opportunity to see the usually tough and unflinching Elias in such a vulnerable state. "You’re not being babied. I’m just... taking care of you."

"Same thing," Elias mumbled from under the blanket. He felt warm all over, and it wasn’t just from the fever.

Barista gave him a knowing smile and gently tugged the blanket down so they could see his face again. "I don’t know, you kinda seem like you’re enjoying the attention."

"I am not," he grumbled, eyes narrowing despite the warmth spreading through him as Barista’s hand came up to stroke his cheek softly. "You just—"

But before he could finish, Barista pressed a thermometer against his lips. "No more talking until we check your temperature."

Elias sighed, begrudgingly letting Barista place the thermometer under his tongue. As they waited for it to beep, Barista leaned in and kissed his forehead gently, as if to reassure him that he was in good hands. Elias tried not to let it show, but his heart fluttered a little at the small gesture.

When the thermometer beeped, Barista pulled it out and glanced at the reading. "101.5. Yep, you're definitely staying right here and resting."

Elias groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. "Ugh. I hate this."

"I know," Barista said sympathetically, standing up to grab his tea from the nearby table. "But it's part of being human. Even tough guys like you get sick sometimes."

Elias peeked out from under his arm, pouting slightly. "I hate being a human right now."

Barista couldn't help but laugh. "Trust me, you’ll feel better soon. But for now, just let me take care of you, okay?"

Elias sighed, clearly still reluctant but not putting up much of a fight anymore. "Fine. But only because I have no choice."

"You love it," Barista teased, offering him the mug of tea.

Elias took it, grumbling as he sipped. "I tolerate it."

Barista raised an eyebrow, crossing their arms. "Is that so? Then maybe I’ll just stop pampering you."

Elias’s eyes widened, and his hand shot out, grabbing onto Barista’s sleeve before they could walk away. "Wait, wait—I didn’t say I hated it," he quickly corrected, the usual bravado slipping away as he gave them an exaggerated, pitiful look.

Barista smiled, clearly enjoying this little power play. "That’s what I thought. Now, drink your tea."

Elias rolled his eyes but obediently sipped the warm liquid. Despite his complaints, there was something comforting about having Barista fuss over him like this. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but being taken care of—even babied a little—wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Especially when it was them doing it.

Barista pulled the blanket up to his chin again and kissed the top of his head, sitting beside him as he settled back against the cushions. “You’ll be back to normal soon, Elias. Until then, just relax. I’ve got you.”

Elias closed his eyes, a small, almost undetectable smile tugging at his lips. He was sick, yes—but with Barista around, maybe it wasn’t all that bad.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #peppymintdreamsproduction #elias zsakuva #zsakuva elias #elias sakuverse #elias being an annoying menace #sakuverse elias #elias x reader #elias is sick and gross #gangster x nurse #nurse barista up in this hoe

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xxplastic-cubexx · 22 days ago

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what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

#snap chats #may you forgive me anon i always feel awkward explaining things AVELKJEAKLJ #i feel esp awkward cause i haven't read toooo much of the comics yet- like ive read. an ok amount so far krakoa wise #can you guys tell im fighting god himself to Not write a fuckin. NOVEL #im so sorry i have an over-explaining problem my mom was mean to me growing up but anyways #i definitely want to read more and more outside krakoa. the more i read the more im fascinated by these two and their history #but to continue my prattling. as if the three paragraphs above arent enough This Is Not A Thesis RELAX #i think a. 'poignant' moment i think adds to what i like about charles too is that soliloquy where he recognizes people dont like him #yet he could always be worse- like if he's bad now to others imagine if he really just said Fuck It All #it's simple but so am i whaddyagonnadoboutit. i mean that point itself could be discussed but i'm trying to keep this brief bear with me #i so bad want to know what issue that's from tho all i know is that it's from krakoa but i neeeed the whole context #i think like. an additional bullet point to charles i also like is his loneliness #and i say this cause- I Say From My Amateur-Psychology Armchair- it's a component of why he's so earnest to help #but im keeping this point in the tags until i can confidently verify that with myself after some more reading #Unfortunately a favorite pass time of mine is psychoanalyzing characters like why else you think i major in psychology smh #im going to force myself to cap the post here because i ended up typing like 20 more tags just rambling #and as i said id like to keep this simple and clean !!!!! i have sat here for like four hours answering this ngl #ignore the fact half that time was spent getting distracted by solitaire and riffling cards ok I Am Very Easily Distracted #but fr when it comes to charles and erik- charles esp imo #i feel like i need to write a whole paper just so i can mention the nuances of the characters and like. EVERYTHING #because again six decades is A Lot of time for writing decisions to be made and for their characters to change over time #im a glazer but i wanna be a nuanced glazer yk. is that glazing at that point-- w/e anyway #its a lot. so today you will have to tolerate a very Blah answer from me which i must apologize for #down the line once ive read a comfortable amount more varying from multiple eras maybe ill revisit this question more in depth #as of right now tho .... chat i wanna get legion of x so bad i skimmed it and hhhhhhhhim gonna throw UP #i need to shake charles like a ragdoll BUT ANYWAY. bye bye for now lovelies !!!!!!!#please forgive me if i didnt answer your question efficiently ..#here i am saying i wanted to keep the tag count brief and yet !!! jesus christ. shut up My God I REACHED THE TAG LIMIT

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thebirdandhersong · 1 month ago

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Lol

#theres nothing quite like your mother saying Well maybe you shouldve been more careful because now your boss might think youve been flirting #with this male coworker (whom i like splendidly as a friend) and now maybe she thinks youre not trustworthy #and maybe she regrets hiring you because you said you feel like youre making a lot of mistakes this week and she might assume thats because #your head is filled with this boy.#so dont make her regret hiring you.#MA'AM I TOLD YOU I WAS ALREADY ANXIOUS BECAUSE I MADE SO MANY MISTAKES TODAY WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME ASHAMED #OF SOMETHING THAT I HONESTLY HAD NO CLUE I OUGHT TO BE ANXIOUS ABOUT AT MY FIRST NEW JOB AFTER IVE GRADUATED????#anyway going to bed i cant take this anymore LOL she said it so lightly and im like. well i never even considered #being afraid of making my boss regret hiring me somehow because of some kind of behaviour that i had no idea was sending some kind of signal #anywaysssss 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#and then she was like why are you crying?? 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀#not to be like this is partly why i didnt want to move home but confound it all why are things like this #can i not simply confide in my mother my anxieties and worriws #worries #and not also have to worry about her potentially being like Well have you considered you ARE right and it IS your fault?#idk man something something firstborn child eldest daughter can i have some room to breathe. please #also not to whine but Not my father walking in on me eating dinner at 10pm because i was holed up #in my room in a semi depressive state after so many gong shows in a work day and straight up having no appetite #but deciding my body needs the food anyway its better late than never.....walking in and then saying #you know if you eat this late you'll gain weight. SIR??????????????????#sorry to complain and rant again i simply cannot in this house and whats more am doing my best to honour my parents #but why is it so hard out here and how can they say stuff like that with a smile!!!!!!!#also i DO have an inner critic who is always like Its your fault you are the worst you should be ashamed always........why do my parents #not understand after knowing me for so long and watching me grow up #that i can make myself so ashamed of the smallest thing so easily and that what they say drives me to shame almost as easily?#ANYWAY LOL WHAT A DAY #you guys!!! i am working so hard i promise i PROMISE I am!!! it is my first full time job ever and i am working so so hard #i am doing my absolute best and no one sees it and that is FINE i just wish my parents would see that i AM trying!!#i come back home so dead every single day because i put in 120%! this is literally my first job after graduation #and my parents KNOW this has been the most exhausting taxing and soul crushing year ive had in my very short life so far

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lisxdumbr · 6 months ago

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The whole "if a person is mad at you it's their responsibility to tell you" thing just made me realize how fucked my situation is. Like just. woah

#who wants to hesr the story of how I lost my irl friends recently (you will I'm spitting everything right now)#anyway so last year one day one of my friends decided to randomly backstab me and she started talking behind my back #and yeah this all made me mad because?? what the fuck #she started talking and revealing stuff that i had confide to her to other people and they slowly started drifting from me #BUt the thing here is that she was manipulating the story. she changed it every time she told stuff to people to make me look bad #i heard one of the things she said about me once and i was like ?? she even make me dislike me in her version which like woa #anyway I didn't understand why she did that because it was ? so random? and then she started ignoring me and has not talked to me ever since #the thing is. she apparently didn't have enough with just doing that. she slowly started to rot my other friends' brains too?#in the sense that. suddenly the rest of my group was ignoring me too. they never said anything to me. or stated that they had a problem #they just ignored me in my face? and yeah that. hurt #recently i found thanks to a third party that one of them decided to stop talking to me because apparently i had hurt her uncountable times #and she was just soo sick and tired of me doing that. which. honestly made me mad because she did not ever express that to me?? so #what was i supposed to do. if she never said anything.#anyway one of my friends confronted her about the treatment they were giving to me. the whole exclusion thing. and her answer was-#”well it's not my fault that she doesn't have more friends and doesn't talk to people”#and i was like. woah. what a poor reply. is that really it.. also apparently they all had agree to stop talking to me as a group-#-and they never informed me so. thank you?#and I'm still here asking what i did to that ex friend of mine. later on i found out she had hooked up with the guy i used to like btw #and she kept it secret. oh and then i started dating my current partner ! person she also felt attracted to. and that's my only explanation.#she started gossiping after what happened with the first guy. so that's really everything that comes to mind as a reason #ANYWAY now that i was at the hospital i didn't receive a single text from any of them. so i guess that was it. people who don't care-#-like that are not friends. those people are not my friends. people who ignore me on purpose and gossip like that are not. my friends #so yeah that's why I've been feeling down lately but ! here I am i ended up ranting so. much #rant #vent #?#woah i actually feel so much better after spitting it all #I'm also following that sour grape advice btw I'm not giving them the privilege of cutting me out. I'M the one who dislikes them now

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sysig · 8 months ago

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Pivotal bright spot (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #Damned #ZEX #The Captain #Hhhhhh <3 #I am once again ''Who am I without you'' - ZEX relies on Zelnick to affirm who he himself is! His Captain is a huge comfort!#It's the codependency for me <3 #The way Zelnick comforts him is so sweet ;; He can be quite attentive! When he chooses to be hehe #He's hesitant and concerned but overcomes it to give ZEX what he needs in the moment ahh he's deserving of being a leader ♥#Like covering his eye for him - and repeating back his greeting! ;;;; How many times has ZEX introduced himself that now it's repeated back #How many times has he said those exact words so confidently that Zelnick can repeat it back to him #So confident in his identity until it's all brought into question - too many pieces that align Just So to know one way or anything!#How would his human love know so many details - but such specific details are concerning as well! What's real and what's not!#What's experienced and what's mentally real - or false! There's so many tricky mental traps set agh it's so good <3 #It's so interesting how their character flaws interact with their self-assuredness hehe <3 Zelnick is brash and bold!#ZEX is careful and prideful - so which takes a harder hit in matters of the mind? ZEX is at a disadvantage in Max's body of course #Hghh there's so much about this scene that's so good tho ah #ZEX's worries of his own level of self-delusion bleeding out into accidentally telling lies - he's quite honest! Mostly ♪#But here it's all just deep concern - not of Trying to manipulate but being so far gone that he can't Help but do so! Being out of control!#Of course that would be very scary for him :( And of lying to himself? The kind of thing that's wholly repulsive to him </3 #Ughhh this scene breaks my heart because they really love each other and ZEX wants him and needs him but I know what will happen ;;#At least they're able to give each other a bit of comfort in the moment - whether it's true or not (it is true haha) the contrast helps #Even in Max's body and even unsure of himself getting to hold his human - this human - feels real and right <3 #He's still worried afterwards of course - takes something convincing to pull him out of it! - and Zelnick continues to comfort him <3 #I love palm kisses as well ugh they're so sweet ;; <3 What a lovely way to show his solidarity! Hehe ♥

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butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 13 days ago

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Do you ever read a post where someone is explaining a pokitical thing and from the way they're saying you know with absolute certainty 1) they got their info from a tumblr post and have never actually followed up on how feasible that information actually is to act upon (they may not even have checked if it was CORRECT, but when they do they have clearly not looked into how easy or hard it may be to follow those instructions with a positive outcome), and 2) you know WHICH tumblr post they're quoting because it is basically a copy/paste of it, and 3) it was YOUR goddamn post and the thing they are saying is entirely counter to the point you were making when you said it to the point that you genuinely wonder if they just like. Memory-holed the entire context once they saw that one itty bitty point.

It's like the motherfuckiny dating apps all over again. I do not want people to love my words if they are not actually willing to do the work of understanding them! Didn't your kindergarten ever make you play Telephone to teach you how heresay falls out????

#sometimes i feel like a prized 12 point buck and everyone is desperate to give chase so they can skin me and wear my pelt in memorium #the luxury of being seen is rarely extended to those we perceive as confident/constant in their sense of self #the path of being a child who was constantly told i was making people uncomfortable and alienating my peers #only to immediately become an adult who everyone perceives as so together that they are just Like That With Everyonr #brennan said something like this in the disection of a recent misfits and magic episode about sam (character)#and how he (as evan) realized that the charm and specialness she gifts to everyone around her means that no one ever really gifts it back #and how that fundamentally felt transcendent and revelatory for evan as a turning point idea #he'd spent so long never trusting others feelings of care for him that he couldn't see how he was bulldozing right into and over sam's own #insecurities about whether or not she is worth loving or is special in the same way #and then they had some back and forth about like #sometimes when you develop the skill of relateability and pacification #you disappear so deeply into it that no one notices you're gone - even you yourself - until it's too late #it put to words a lot of the like #gap. that i've always felt between me and others. this insistance on elevating or pathologizing me depending on where they feel the need #to be in relation to me #while having absolutely zero awareness of my actual positioning in relation to them #i have found that they way i interact with others seems to give the impression that because i am being 'genuine' and 'open' about myself #that ALSO means that I am sharing the whole of me.#and when i talk about destigmatization and shame and people work really hard to be like. aware of the edges of me to carch me embarrassed #like if they can prove that i don't 'admit' something it's because i'm ashamed as opposed to considering that maybe they don't have the kind #of relationship with me that would warrant the sharing of it #because i'm willing to talk i am no longer allowed privacy or it's treated as incongruous #but like. i am different people for different people and they are all authentically me but they are also about faciliting the version #of the other person that matters to me to be able to spend time with. i'm not going to bring the parts of me that put you in a bad mood #or aren't comfortable/safe for you. also probably not going to put those things out into the open world as a mixed company conversation #i don't know where I'm going or where I came from here but i think the point is just that I think there's melancholy in seeing when #you also don't know a reliable way to be seen in turn

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cerbreus · 2 years ago

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oh also as of yesterday 2 YEARS ON T HELL YEAH 1 YR POST TOP SURGERY HELL YEAH 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

#finally doing the last thing on my checklist this yr which is getting a passport :-)#dude my life has gotten SO much better i feel happier i feel more confident i feel more myself than I ever have #except maybe when i was a weird grubby child running around in the forest and creeks all day with no concept of what gender is and only #caring about catching critters and pretending i was a survivalist in the woods #quite literally a weight off my chest like 6 lbs of weight off my chest even #i had to save up like 9 yrs to pay for the surgery and had to get it out of pocket bc i knew there was no way i could get it thru ins.#but it was worth every fuckin cent i'm so happy i feel so much better in my body #i wish i could have started hrt sooner but it's true when ppl say it's never too late to start! i started at 26 and i am so so happy #with all of my changes and i just hope every other trans person gets to a point in their life they can safely transition it is #literally life changing #thx so much to all my friends who got me here and helped me through all the stress and cared for me after my surgery #thx to everyone who just said kind things and helped me navigate all the complex legal stuff and went with me to court!!! ur all the best #anyway goals this yr grow more than 3 facial hairs #and figure out how to style my hair i've been fighting these damn cowlicks for 27 yrs i want this yr to be the yr i figure it out #personal stuff

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my-soft-sunshine · 7 months ago

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#having A Time tonight #super very emotional talk with my dad and sister #said some things i shouldn't have and im regretting saying anything at all #i really should have just apologized and shut the fuck up #instead i got the knowledge that i cannot tell my dad anything in confidence #and tgat even my siblings can see my parents treat me differently #like to the point where if i pissed off one of my parents enough they wanted to kick me out my other parent wont stop them #literally something my sibling brought up #and what am i doing tomorrow? immediately backtracking and apologizing for everything!#because yes i was abused and neglected but i hurt my dads feelings and made my mom angry so i need to say sorry #honestly i just need to keep it all in until i can get out of here #just wait until then and i wont ever have to speak with them ever again #might still talk ti my dad but idk probably not. i think im too upset with him rn to make that decision #i mean he did pretty much tell ms to my face that he will always side with my mother so #i want out someone help me please #i need a job a place to stay and some way to get places (i cant drive)#just a little bot longer and my schooling will be done and i will have my license and i can work #i cant wait im so excited to work again and be able yo save up and LEAVE

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exopelagic · 9 months ago

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update I have been in SUCH a good mood today and I love talking to people <3

#just met a bunch of the other biologists in different years there was a big thing and they’re so cool #I have had. just a little bit to drink bc there was wine and it was actually GOOD I don’t like wine but this stuff was like sweeter #had an actual taste and wasn’t just bitter and burny so I. maybe had like three glasses which is not a lot but I am a small man #my friend said I was normal but he’s also an unobservant straight man I know I was a little more than normal #and also definitely less coordinated (I walked into a wall.)#(nobody was watching it was fine)#it’s fine I don’t drink very often this is probably what happens. so much for alcohol doesn’t affect me very much maybe it depends on what #OH YEAH TOPSY THIS MIGHT BE EVIDENCE FOR THE VODKA BAD THING BC THIS DIDNT GIVE ME A HEADACHE #anyway. it was so fun catching up with some of these people I only see them like a few times a year #but they’re genuinely some of the nicest people I’ve met in this place #hopefully organising a thing with a few of them soon!! will be cooking for a couple people I might invite cool masters student whom I love #she’s my favourite biologist hands down I would kill for her #idk man it’s just made me remember how much I genuinely enjoy talking to people and bc it’s not the first time with a lot of them the like #initial icy awkwardness had melted and we could just be normal people and it was great #and like normally talking to people I actually have classes with it’s weird and slightly like. comparing each other feeling yknow?#but tonight the only people I had classes with who I talked to were my actual friends and then a bunch of people in other years #so it was just nice and chill and it was honestly kinda nice being able to be the reassuring older one like a few people were for me before #anyway yeah I understand a bit more abt a) why people drink at these things (the little extra confidence is nice I can’t lie)#b) this subject sucks in many ways and a lot of the people are shit here but so many aren’t and we’re just all not talking to each other #bc of the much louder incredibly annoying people in between who are much more visible #but when you do end up together it’s rlly nice and I just wish I’d talked to some of them earlier or like. more.#ms. masters I will miss you so much when you’re gone I will not be able to fill the void you leave next year but I will try o7 #also oh god yeah the freshers have personalities now it’s great I knew I just needed to give them some time #I only talked to like. threeee? but they’re rlly nice and one is coming for dinner soon hopefully I gotta organise that at some point.#maybe next term bc I don’t think I have time or the brain space to do extras this term now #but it will be at some point bc I rlly wanna talk to them all again. I’ll have so much more time next term I can do that #anyway. I love talking to people and I rlly like when I’m in a good mood I’m gonna try hype myself up more #I think I have a habit of slipping into everything sucks but when I’m not like that I can enjoy Everything. growth #anyway I’m sleeping now I’m so tired early bed goodnight <3 #luke.txt

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wildwestdean · 4 months ago

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impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

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