#I also had a completely different ending for this fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 2 days ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato Ooh I've been dying to dig into the next chapter of this fic now that you've made it a little series!! 💚💚💚

"Ready For Love" is playing over the speakers, barely audible over the thud of fat raindrops pummeling the windshield, blocking out the world around you, and sending the shadows racing across your skin where Ben and you are sitting in the backseat.

On one hand, perfect makeout music. On the other hand, Dean is SOOOO freakin' jealous, but it's so frustrating that pushing down his own feelings for her has resulted in him being such a dick to her, before and during this moment. 😫😫

But so far the trip had been less like riding in the Mystery Machine and more like riding with the Griswold's on their road trip to Wally World…

*snorts* I love both of these analogies. 🤣

Dean Winchester hated you, and you had no idea why. So you decided to stop trying to make him like you, because if he was going to act like a total dick he didn't deserve you being nice to him.

Deaaaaaan you complete and utter idiot!! What's even worse is that she did feel that spark with him when they first met, until he opened his big dumb mouth lmao.

The thought often brought the feeling of loneliness stirring in your chest, but you pushed it down, throwing everything you had into hunting. Healthy right?

Lol sounds like the Winchester Way to me. 🫠

Ben's jaw tightens and you know that he's biting back some remark to throw Dean's way, but you pull him closer, trailing your hand over his bearded cheek to keep his attention and gently bring your lips to his. You feel the tension shift from Ben's shoulders beneath the palms of your hands as he relaxes into the kiss, and this time Ben smiles when you pull away, giving your hips an encouraging squeeze. "It was a school or some shit. And there was a billboard for "World's Biggest Beer Can.""

My heart was so torn throughout this entire fic, you have no idea!! The way she manages to pacify him loll. So sweet and sexy in a way, but also, you get the sense that she thinks Ben might just see her as a pretty face, even if he does care about her deep down? It makes you wonder where her heart is truly going to lie at the end of all this angsty love-triangle goodness.

"Hey Benny Wenny, did you miss me?" Her lips curl up in a wide smile when she rises from the throne, her bright blue eyes crinkling around the edges. The air around her seems to sparkle, sending scattered light out into the broken seats.

Oh my God this part was completely unhinged and it was hilarious! But the way Ben decides to "get rid of her" is unfortunately on-brand, not caring enough about the collateral damage, the risk of the reader getting hurt. 💔 Even though he does check on her afterwards, the way Dean protected her has my heart swinging back to him and melting in a whole different way!! 😫 Gah! This is so conflicting! loll don't do this to me, friend. 😂😂

I need to dive right into Part 3 so I get to see what happens between her, Ben, and Dean, and just who will confess their feelings first...

Part 2: It Is A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader,

POV: Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST

Word Count: 7.4K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. Cursing, Making Out, DEATH, Violence (only a little), Jealousy, Pining, Kinda Sad Vibes In Some Places, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). References to Future Sex. Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester (aka. being moody and super hot).

Listen While You Read: Jealous Again By The Black Crowes

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It was so fun to come back to this universe again! Thank you so much to everyone for all the love and support that you've gave me in writing the first part and thank you for all the encouragement to write a part 2! And also please don't forget to check out Stranded by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this fic!💗

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"Can the two of you stop playing find my tonsils and tell me where the hell it is I'm supposed to be driving to?" Dean grouses from the driver's seat while Sam leans over a road map squinting to look at the small print.

“Well, if you’d given me a few hours to fuck her at the motel instead of throwing a bitch fit-" Ben begins to say, turning his gaze your face to stare at the back of Dean's head with a lazy smile.

“Dean why do you care?" You interrupt Ben with red cheeks. "I know for a fact worse things have happened in the backseat of your car than Ben and me making out."

"Really? Because I can’t think of anything worse that you and him sucking on each other's tongues and helping the spread of mono." Dean's hands tighten on the steering wheel and his shoulders tense.

He’s more wound up than a tinker toy.

It has been exactly thirty three minutes since Dean's mental breakdown back at the motel when Ben showed up. Furthermore, despite how much Dean had screamed at you at the motel, it appeared that he was still going to act like a two year old who wanted a cookie before dinner.

Sam's suggestion for the four of you to figure out why Ben was here had been a welcome distraction from Dean's spiral. It had prompted all of you to pile into Baby to try and find where it was that Ben landed in your universe and find a clue as to why.

But so far the trip had been less like riding in the Mystery Machine and more like riding with the Griswold's on their road trip to Wally World…

Dean had been supportive of trying to find a solution to what he deemed the "Ben problem," but it appeared that Dean was going to spend every waking minute getting on your nerves.

Honestly, what's new?

You didn’t understand why Dean was so damn argumentative whenever you showed up, it was like he lived to make your life as difficult as possible.

It had always been that way. Since the first day you met Sam and him at Ellen's bar forever ago, Dean had never once said something nice about you or to you.

He always found some little thing to nit pick, whether it be your aim, your research skills, or your technique when hunting and you were sick of it. Each time the two of you worked together, it was Sam's job to make sure it didn't end in bloodshed. Even Cas noticed Dean's underlying hostility towards you and when he asked Dean what was wrong, Dean had brushed him off with a "not now Cas."

Worse was the time that you got hurt (only a minor injury) on a hunt a few weeks ago when you got thrown into a glass cabinet while facing down a poltergeist. Dean had chewed you out for a good twenty minutes and even with Sam's ability to intervene, you'd broken Dean's nose for speaking to you like that, and then rushed off to your room in the bunker before he had a chance to see you cry.

It was the one thing that you never allowed yourself to do in front of Dean Winchester, cry. He didn't deserve your tears, especially not when he was being a total grade A asshole.

When Sam came in later to help you get patched up, you asked him why Dean hated you and Sam tried to convince you otherwise, but you knew the truth.

Dean Winchester hated you, and you had no idea why. So you decided to stop trying to make him like you, because if he was going to act like a total dick he didn't deserve you being nice to him.

You knew that was why you liked Ben more. Ben appreciated you (sort of), he wasn't mean, he listened to you (sometimes), and he did give you compliments… well, they all revolved around the way you looked and that was nice, but just you wanted someone to give you a compliment that had to do with something else. Or maybe just a simple "I see you."

Is that so hard to ask?

Your few flings in the past hadn't been anything special. You didn't have the kind of stable lifestyle that prompted or supported long serious relationships, especially with non-hunters. Not to mention you'd always had this fantasy about meeting another hunter who understood exactly what you went through and what you had gone through over the years. It was often difficult to find a non-hunter who could understand that.

The bunker was the first permanent address that you'd ever had. Your mother had been one of the best hunters in the US, known by all, and you never met your dad, which meant that growing up on the road was the only life you knew. She'd died a year before you started working with the Winchesters which meant that you didn't exactly have anyone that you cared about or anyone who cared about you.

The thought often brought the feeling of loneliness stirring in your chest, but you pushed it down, throwing everything you had into hunting.

Healthy right?

Ben's muscular arm is wrapped around your waist, his hand splayed over your lower back to keep you tight against his chest so there is no space between the two of you, while your hands locked at the back of his neck. You didn't usually like PDA that much, occasionally yes, but you'll admit that you were only allowing yourself to give in to Ben a little more, because you liked how much it annoyed Dean.

Yes, you thought that it was absolutely ridiculous how Dean was acting, but you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Because in all the years you'd known him, you’d never found one thing to hold over his head or one thing that really irritated him, and Ben was working like a charm.

It also felt really good to kiss him, but that was beside the point.

You understood that Dean was having a psychotic break with his constant proclamations that Ben "was him," but you wanted to at least understand why Dean was still hung up on it.

Ben isn't Dean. Sure they have the same face, but Ben is different… isn't he?

When you'd encountered Ben for the first time you had done a double take, but the more you were around him, the more you appreciated the way he treated you differently from Dean. Yes he was a little sexist, but Ben made you feel wanted and Dean had a way of making you feel stupid and often like a burden, as if you'd been plopped on his doorstep like a box of kittens and he was stuck with you.

There was only so much that you could take.

You didn't know what you'd done to earn such hostility. Dean was far from sexist, and you'd seen him interact with other people, it was just you he treated differently and it made you want to strangle him.

"Calm down kid-" Ben sighs.

"Stop calling me that!" Dean turns around to glare at the man next to you.

"Keep your eyes on the road." Sam says, not looking up from the map. He didn't need to.

"What a wonderful suggestion Sammy, but see I can't because I have no idea where the hell it is I'm going!" Dean snipes at his brother.

I swear at this point if Gabriel pops out of nowhere and tells me that this is all just a fucked up dream, I'd believe it.

"Stop being damn hormonal kid, and keep driving." Ben rolls his eyes and moves his lips to your throat, nipping and biting along the flesh visible over the top of your jacket, making you gasp softly and lean into Ben's warm embrace.

Your eyes meet Dean's in the rear view mirror and just for a second you see something flash through them that isn't anger, but it's gone just as soon as you clock it.

What was that?

Dean slams on the brakes and Ben tightens his grip on your body so you don't go flying forward into the bucket seat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snap, curiosity gone, as you glare at Dean.

The tension in the car is high, popping and crackling around the four of you like popcorn. You still couldn't understand why Dean had such a problem with Ben. If anything you'd think that they'd get along a little bit.

"I am not being hormonal or whatever other chauvinistic shit that is about to come out of your mouth." Dean snarls, ignoring you, as he turns and narrows his eyes at Ben. "And I am not your chauffeur. So tell me where the hell it is I'm going so you can get the fuck out of my car and out of my life!"

Ben opens his mouth to retort something, no doubt that'll trigger Dean, but you speak before he can.

"Ben, do you remember anything about where you came through?" You ask him. You were trying to be more diplomatic even though Dean was making your blood boil.

Just because Dean is mad at me does not mean that he gets to take it out on Ben. Ben hasn't done anything wrong. He got sucked into this reality and immediately got pulled into Dean's soap opera.

Ben huffs out a sigh as he turns back to look at you. His gaze softens a little as his eyes meet yours, turning from a dark green to a jade. "There was a building-"

"Oh wow, how helpful!" Dean snarks. "Did you hear that Sammy? There was a building! Mystery solved!"

Ben whips his head in Dean's direction, the air in the car growing hot as Ben's skin begins to heat, but you gently lay your hand on his cheek to bring his gaze back on you. "Dean is an asshole. We all know." You say to Ben, reassuring him and ignoring the look Dean gives you when you say it. "Do you remember anything about the building?"

Getting Ben angry wasn't the way to get information out of him, he was, after all, more like Dean than you were willing to admit. And just as you'd seen Dean get worked over by numerous women, including Bella, sweet talking worked the best.

Well, it never worked when you tried to do it, because Dean refused to treat you any way other than an annoyance.

But two could play that game, especially with the way that Dean was acting right now.

"Okay. We can work with that." Sam says giving you a sympathetic look before pulling out his phone to type something in.

At least Sam is being normal about this whole thing.

Sam and you always got along, from the start he was the older brother that you never had, and it was refreshing. Not to mention Sam was your best and probably only friend. The hunter life was lonely and you found it difficult to make friends anyway, but something about Sam always stuck. He got your abnormal sense of humor, he gave the best hugs, and he stood up for you when things got heated between Dean and you. It was his idea for you to move into the bunker with him and Dean, and also him that convinced Dean to let you move in.

It had taken days for Dean to finally say yes. And when he did, he made you move into the bedroom next to his as if he wanted to keep an eye on you because he didn't trust you.

And as much as you hated living with Dean, living with Sam made up for it. You liked helping him research while Dean bitched and moaned about reading through dusty volumes, liked helping him clean up while Dean followed behind you as if you couldn't be trusted, liked helping Sam try to make dinner that ended up more burned than anything else until Dean stepped in and shooed the both of you from the kitchen so he could make something, and liked kicking back on the couch watching movies with Sam while eating copious amounts of popcorn.

Unfortunately, Dean didn't get the hint that you wanted him to leave you alone so he'd follow Sam and you, crack open a beer, and proceed to give a personal commentary on the movie the two of you were watching, occasionally throwing a look in your direction as if he was checking that you were listening to him. Weirder still was the fact that Dean would do that when Sam wasn't with you.

You noticed that sometimes, that no matter where you were in the bunker, Dean just happened to find himself in the same room. But that didn't mean he would speak, sometimes he would just be cleaning one of his guns or quietly reading through a dusty volume or writing something down in a notebook, but you swore sometimes you thought that Dean was looking at you. Each time you looked up though, he was looking down at whatever else it was he was doing.

It was those moments that made you think that things could be civil between the two of you, and then he'd get on your case for doing something he deemed "wrong" when you knew you did it right the first time as if you hadn't been a hunter as long as he had.

He probably does that because he doesn't trust me.

Dean grumbles something under his breath and turns his gaze back out the windshield, watching the wiper blades go back and forth over the glass, crossing his arms over his chest. Ben frowns and you know that he must have been able to hear whatever it was Dean said.

Why can't we all just get along for five minutes? Is that too much to ask?

"Alright I've got something." Sam says ending the uncomfortable silence in the car. "The World's Biggest Beer Can is in Northwood about ten miles ahead of us."

"Finally. At least someone is pulling their weight." Dean states before he hits the gas, the force throws you backwards into the seat.

Your gaze flicks up to the rearview mirror and notice that Dean is watching you again, but you turn away to Ben who smiles wide and pulls you back towards him for a kiss.

But deep down you can't help but wonder if Dean had been watching the two of you in his rearview mirror the whole time and why he cared so much.

The building that Ben remembers is in fact, an abandoned school.

The roof sags inward allowing rainwater to pool in the front lobby over black and white checkered tiles, the lockers are rusted and thrown to the floor at odd angles making you worry about the possibility of tetanus, and there is an ungodly stench that you can only describe as old gym socks, axe body spray, and unwashed feet.

Ben's nose wrinkles where he stands beside you, and you're sure that no matter what your sense of smell is experiencing it's a million times worse for him.

You press your lips into a tight line, toeing around a puddle of something gray and sticky that you can't identify, but know for a fact you don't want it in your shoes. Your eyes squint into the looming darkness that grows the more you stare down the forgotten hallways.

It’s always gotta be an old creepy building. Just once I want to get to investigate a donut shop or a burger joint or a Starbucks.

"Any of this looking familiar Captain Sexual Harassment?" Dean asks turning with his flashlight to point in Ben's face.

Ben shrugs and squints at the offending light. "I don’t fucking know."

"Enlightening." Dean huffs out a breath. "Well, guess we can split up and-"

Thank God I won't have to listen to Dean mutter things under his breath and freak out.

"Fine." You interrupt. "Come on Ben." You start to walk down one of the dark hallways, but Dean slides in front of you to block your path.

"No way. You're not going with him." Dean waves his flashlight in Ben's face again and you can see the twitch on the corner of Dean's mouth to see how much he enjoys blinding him.

Why does he always have to act like such a child?

"Why?" You demand.

"Because as soon as Sam and I get out the picture, Grandpa over there is going to pull you aside and fuck you in one of the classrooms." Dean says it without blinking, but it makes you flush red in embarrassment and anger.

"No, he's not!"

"Yes, he is!"

Dean is so close that you can feel his warm breath on your face. His eyes are narrowed in anger, but you can see another emotion flick through them so quickly you think you imagined it. It was the same emotion that you thought you saw in the car, but you can't identify it, not yet.

Ben's hand comes down on Dean's shoulder, a wide smirk on his face. "Look kid, I get it. She's fucking hot and I know you think I'm trying to horn in on your action-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean exclaims shaking off Ben's hand.

"You're jealous because she decided to be with a real man instead of you." Ben shrugs. His gaze travels up and down Dean as if appraising him before he shakes his head with a chuckle. "I can't blame her. Someone like you couldn't handle her.

"I could handle her just fine!" Dean snaps back his face flushing as he forces his chest against Ben's, who only smirks back.

What did he just say?

Your entire body goes stick straight in surprise and you turn your head to stare at Dean. In all the years that you'd known Dean he's never once said something like that to you.

Sure there was the night you met…

You hadn't thought about it in years. You'd been back in town because Bobby had called asking you to help out some friends of his on a case and you'd stopped in to Ellen's bar to see Jo. Dean had come on to you and you'd splashed a beer in his face and also maybe pinned him down against the bar. It had been awkward the next day when you found out that Dean and Sam were the friends that Bobby wanted you to help out, but you pushed past all the weird feelings to help.

Dean had flirted with you that night and you will admit to yourself that you thought Dean was attractive before he opened his mouth, but since that night the two of you hadn't spoken about it. In fact, you were both perfectly happy pretending that it didn't happen.

Or so you thought.

Dean's dark green eyes flick to yours in realization. "That's not what I meant."

"Sure kid." Ben's smirk grows to Cheshire Cat proportions.

"Stop calling me that!"

The weird thing was, you'd seen Dean lose his temper, it always flared fast and hot broken up with sarcastic comments, but for some reason this felt different and you didn't understand why. It didn't feel like Dean just getting angry because Ben was getting under his skin, it felt like something else.

"Whoa!" You get between the two of them for the second time in an hour. "If you guys keep fighting like this I'm going to put you both in time out!"

"He started it!" Dean glares at Ben, who doesn't look the least bit upset.

"I don’t care who started it! You're grown men and you're still acting like toddlers. I shouldn't have to separate you." You snap waving around your flashlight at Dean.

"How about this?" Sam sighs from where he stands a few feet away. "I'll go with Ben and the two of you can try not to shoot each other."

"Why can't I go with you?" You sigh to your friend.

"You want to leave them together? Alone?" Sam raises his eyebrow.

Not really.

Sam takes your silence rightfully as confirmation, because the both of you knew if you left Dean and Ben together it would probably be a Thunderdome situation or a reenactment of the WWE.

"Maybe we shouldn't split up." Dean says looking at his brother.

"You scared kid?" Ben smirks. " No wonder she decided to fuck me instead of you. You’re acting like a little bitch."

"You son of a bitch-" Dean finally snaps and launches himself towards Ben, but your hand fists in the back of Dean's leather jacket to stop him from starting a fight that you know he won't win.

It wasn't that you thought Ben was a better fighter than Dean, it was that Ben had super strength and would have no qualms ripping Dean in half. And despite how much Dean annoyed you, you didn't want him to die. Sure he was a jerk, but he didn't deserve that after everything he'd been through, and Sam didn't need to bear witness to that.

"Fine." You say. "Ben please go with Sam."

Ben rolls his eyes and follows after Sam, leaving Dean and you standing in the lobby alone, the only sound the soft plop of water echoing down the empty hallway.

Great. Now I'm stuck with Dean in a creepy old building. It's a dream come true. The stuff of Disney movies.

"Why did you do that?" Dean snaps at you when Ben and Sam turn a corner out of sight.

"You should be thanking me! Ben would rip you in half without batting an eye!" You turn back towards the empty hallway and try to put as much distance as you can between Dean and you.

Distance is good, nice. It means that I can only partly hear his disapproval.

"You don't know that." Dean catches up with you, sweeping the path in front of you with his flashlight looking for holes in the floor.

"Yes, I do. I've seen him do it before."

By now you were aware that there was a chill in the air, it was unnatural, creeping down the hallway in a thin mist that made a shiver crawl down your spine. Dean must sense it too, because he pulls his gun at the same time you do.

That or he's doing it because he's about to go Rambo on Ben's ass.

Because that'll end well…

"If he rips people in half why do you like him so much?"

“He’s not a bad person if that’s what you’re getting at. Ben did it to save me.” You point your flashlight into one of the classrooms along the hallway noting the rotted desks tipped over onto the checkered floor. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Ben's world was filled with more than a few crazed individuals, and when you'd been in his universe Ben had stepped in when a supe threw themselves at you. Truthfully, even though Ben did what he did to protect you, watching him pull someone apart with his bare hands made you sick to your stomach. Given what you'd seen, that was saying something. But you knew that Ben wouldn't hurt you, he wasn't that kind of man, and you weren't afraid of him.

“You’ve known him for five days! How can you tell after five days?!” Dean nudges a cardboard box with his boot sending a family of cockroaches scuttling into the shadows.

"Because I can!" Your lip curves up in distaste at the appearance of the roaches and try not to imagine all the walls infested with the little bugs.

You didn't like roaches. Especially ones that all of a sudden developed the ability to fly in your presence as if it were a miracle.

The two of you continue to walk down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps masking the constant dripping noise that comes from the floor above.

Your temper was flaring all over again. You didn't think that you needed to explain any of this to him. Dean never felt the need to discuss his extensive history with women with you and you didn't feel the need to discuss the ins and outs of your and Ben's situation.

"Come on-" He begins to say, but you don't want to hear it.

"Dammit Dean just fucking drop it." You throw your shoulder against a door at the end of the hallway, putting everything you have into it and a little more. You were getting frustrated at Dean's continuous commentary on your life. "I don’t want to talk about this anymore or listen to any of the ridiculous reasons why you think that it's any of your business who I sleep with."

“I think it is my business because you were about to reenact the scene from Titanic in the back of my car!”

“Oh please. I’m sure that you’ve reenacted it billions of times back there. Mr. Saturday Night!” You roll your eyes hitting the door again with your shoulder.

“It’s my car!" Dean shouts, moving you out of the way in a surprisingly gentle way, before he savagely kicks down the door. "I can do whatever I damn well please!”

I wonder if Sam and Ben are having a better time than us. It wouldn't be difficult to.

The door opens with a snap under the force of Dean's kick depositing Dean and you into a large auditorium. The seats are a faded gray and the curtains that hang from the sides of the stage, once blood red, were more of a muddled pink stained with splotches of dark spots and filled with holes the size of the Impala.

Crawling vines and ferns have begun to tangle over the empty seats and over the floors, absorbing anything in their path. The wooden stage is dilapidated and caving in on itself, the boards jutting upwards instead of laying flat as they should in some places from years of water damage. The carpet beneath your feet is squishy and moth eaten, and each step sends another cloud of dust into the air making the room hazy and you cough into your elbow.

"Not to mention he's me!" Dean continues, tramping into the room behind you.

"How many times are you going to say that?" You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying your best to keep it together.

"As many times as I have to, to get the point into your thick skull!"

You whirl around and poke your finger into his chest. "You know what Winchester? You can take all your opinions and shove them right up your uptight ass!"

"The two of you don't get along at all. Odd given how you seem to get along with my fiancé." A bored voice says from somewhere behind you. "But it is a lot more entertaining than I thought it was going to be."

Dean and you both lock eyes and turn to look in the direction of the voice, but there's no one there.

"Um, did you hear-" Dean begins to ask.

"Yes I did." You reply clicking the safety off your pistol.

"Just checking."

"Though I will say, with the way today is going for you and if this is you having a psychotic break, I wouldn't be surprised that you're having auditory hallucinations."

"Shut up." Dean sighs.

"Hello?" You shout, looking around the empty auditorium for some answer, but it remains empty.

Dean snorts. "Now who's craz-"

"Hello?" The voice mocks in a nasally voice. "Wow you're pathetic. I don't understand what he sees in you."

"You call me pathetic, but you're the one hiding. So why don't you come out?" A chair from the front row plucks itself off the ground and hurls itself at your head. You duck and it sails into the aisle behind Dean and you.

"You're not even that pretty." The voice continues and you can imagine a pout on the end of its words like a petulant child who wishes to get their way.

This is so fucking weird.

"Thanks." You reply dryly. "I like to think I've got a great personality."

"You don't." Dean mutters, making you throw an elbow into his side.

A high pitched giggle echoes through the space making it impossible to identify where it came from, until finally a woman materializes on the stage. You blink your eyes to make sure that she's really there.

Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders in perfect ringlets, and she's wearing a bright pink fur trimmed dressing gown. The kind you'd see on an eccentric billionaire's trophy wife who spent most of her day drinking gin martinis poolside while being fanned by cabana boys or the kind that she'd be wearing when she heard of her husband's "untimely demise." There's a silver diamond crown perched on top of her head and she's smoking a cigarette from a long white cigarette holder, while she lounges back on a golden throne.

What. The. Fuck.

"Do you see her too?" You whisper to Dean out of the corner of your mouth.

"You mean Glinda the Good Witch the later years? Yeah I can." Dean replies looking just as confused as you do. "You thinking Gabriel?"

"I thought he was dead."

"He's pretended to be dead before." He shrugs.

"Fair enough. Any reason why he's making us see her?"

"Maybe your new boyfriend has a fetish."

"Hasn't anyone told you that it's rude to whisper?" The woman says, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"Sorry. Um. Who are you?" You ask.

"I don't speak to homewreckers." Her face contorts into a sneer. You watch her eyes shift from Dean to you. "But I'll answer for your friend. I'm Iris, Benjamin's Fiancé."

If pigs could fly right now an entire fleet of them would be taking flight around you. You tried to wrack your brain remembering a single time that Ben said that he had a fiancé or was in a relationship at all, and you can't find a single moment.

Well… today officially sucks.

"Wow. Nice." Dean looks at you with a scoff. "Real nice."

"Hey woah, I didn't know he had a fiancé." You hold up your free hand in surrender. "He never said anything about a-"

"Hey gorgeous. Did you find anything?" Ben says materializing behind Dean.

"You're engaged?" You shout.

"No?" Ben looks confused. "Who told you that?"

You point a thumb over your shoulder to Iris, who is still lounging on the stage completely in her element. She giggles and wiggles her fingers in a cute wave.

Ben is still staring up at the woman, looking utterly confused.

"You know that freak?" Dean whispers to Ben who is now standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Fuck no."

"Well, congratulations Benny Wenny." Dean snorts. "Guess you're getting married."

"I am not-"

"And don't worry, of course I'll be your best man." Dean continues, holding back laughter.

"Shut the fuck up kid!" Ben snaps at Dean, before turning back to the woman on the stage. "Look baby, I don't know who you are but-" Ben begins to say to the woman, who only laughs.

She throws back her head, golden curls bouncing with the force of her body moving, laughing for an unnatural amount of time before she locks her blue eyes on Ben again.

“Stop being silly. We met a few months ago at Legend’s party. We had a few drinks and then you came back to my apartment where we made love for hours-“ Her cheeks blush. “It was sooooo romantic. What I always dreamed about!”

“Um-“

“My parents are so excited to meet you and my little sister said that she’s so happy to have a big brother!” She giggles. “I even made us matching t-shirts to wear on our honeymoon and a scrap book of our children!" She holds up a magenta colored bedazzled photo album that’s the size of a medium sized dog.

Wow she put a lot of work into that.

“Children?” Ben stutters, his voice cracking on the end a little bit. It's the first time that you've ever seen him look afraid.

“What they’ll look like, where we’ll vacation each year, where we'll live, where you'll work-” Her expression turns sour, eyes flashing a dark pink as she glares in your direction. “But then you met that little whore who took you away from me and poisoned your mind.” She points a perfectly manicured pink nail at you. “So I decided to bring you here so you could help me kill her.”

“I’m sorry rewind-“ You say holding up a hand. “You brought Ben here? How?"

"I found a website while I was looking at destination weddings." She shrugs.

"There are websites about traveling through different universes that show up in the search engine-" Dean begins to say.

"DON'T QUESTION ME!" The girl shrieks and the entire room begins to shake.

"And you wanted Ben to be here because?" You haven’t lowered your gun. Frankly you had no idea what her powers were. She looked more like she would start tap dancing down the yellow brick road rather than start hurling chunks of the stage at you, but you needed a plan.

“Because we’ll get to share this moment together.” Iris sighs looking over at Ben again, who is just as shell-shocked as he was a moment ago.

“Killing me?”

Iris nods enthusiastically. “We'll make love on top of your dead body and no one will come between us ever again!”

Dean snorts under his breath and you elbow him again, trying not to think of the image.

Please let this be Gabriel messing around with me. Because if it's not my life is officially a joke.

The three of you stand there for a minute looking up at where she prances on the stage in mixed stages of disbelief.

And just as Iris takes a step forward, a sandbag falls on her head. She crumples to the floor like a sack of potatoes as Sam appears in the wings of the stage looking from her to where the three of you are watching.

"You guys okay?" He calls.

"Yeah." Ben shrugs. "Too bad about her though. She was hot."

He's kidding right?

"The crazies always are." Dean adds with a sigh, patting him on the back.

"I'm so happy the two of you are having this bonding moment, truly I am, but-" You begin to say, turning your back to the stage, but as soon as you do Sam goes flying across the room and into one of the fern plants.

"That was so uncool!" Iris squeals, hovering over the stage, her hands glowing an unnatural magenta color. "Ben and I are meant to be together, we're soulmates, perfect, fated, destined, and no one is going to stand in my way."

The entire room begins to tremble with the force of her anger, dust floats down from the ceiling as it begins to crack and crumble under her powers. You can feel the warmth of Ben's skin as he begins to power up the beam in his chest, burning through the air like a supernova.

There's a crackling sound that comes from above and you look up to see a giant piece of the ceiling falling in slow motion towards your body. Dean shouts your name, but he sounds far away, the sound ringing through the few seconds that you still have left before it crushes you.

But the hit doesn't come from above, it comes from the side.

Dean tackles you, just as the piano sized piece hits the ground where you had been standing a second ago, to the ground, cradling your head in his hands. Your bodies tumble into the moth eaten carpets as Ben explodes, the heat and power of the beam causing more of the room to fall around the two of you.

There's a terrible high pitched wail that's cut off abruptly mid scream and you don't need to be a genius to know what or rather who it was.

Dean covers your body with his and your hands come up under his arms to hold him tighter to you. You bury your face into the warmth of his coat where his throat and his shoulder meet with a whimper as everything around the two of you shudders and shakes. He doesn't pull away, his muscles tensing as he tightens his grip around you, his own face buried in your hair.

The room continues to shake and fall apart in the aftermath of the blast, dust and ash rising in clouds. But you can’t see any of it, Dean's body is shielding you from the room as it crumbles around the two of you, tucking you further beneath him the longer it goes on, making it impossible for anyone or anything to hurt you.

You could feel something curling in the pit of your stomach the longer you laid there under him, an odd feeling that you'd tried to push down whenever you were around Dean, a warmth that begins to spread like wildfire through your body everywhere the two of you are touching. His body is warm and heavy, but it's not oppressive, it lays over you protective and unyielding in the wake of the destruction.

The smell of him invades your senses, a mix of gunmetal, leather, and a spicy scent that tickled your nose. You'd smelled Dean's shampoo before, when it wafted out of the bathroom as you walked down the hallway, imprinting itself in your mind. It was how the impala smelled, always like Dean, and with it brought a feeling of comfort that you'd never known before.

It was odd.

"Are you okay?" Dean whispers, and you can feel the rumble of his words through his chest where it's touching you, his hips laying in the cradle of your thighs. He pulls back to look at your face, the rough grate of his stubble catching your chin as he does so. His eyes are wide with worry and it's the first time that you'd ever seen him look at you that way.

Dust and ash caught in his hair in graying clumps, sticking to the shortened brownish gold strands, the ones that were just a little shorter than Ben's. You longed to run your fingers through, to feel if it was as soft as it looked.

"I think so." You murmur, not used to the weight of his body on top of yours, but you're also trying not to notice how a part of you liked it. "Are you okay?" Your fingertips trail against the smooth leather of his jacket, working up to the back of his head, feeling just the subtle brush of the hair at the nape of his neck.

You don't miss the soft sigh that rushes out of Dean's chest when you do that, fueling the fire that was spreading in the pit of your stomach.

What is happening?

"Yeah." Dean's fingers brush your hair from your face, so quickly that you think you missed it, but the burn of his skin over your cheeks is the only reminder. You gasp softly with the movement, confused as to why Dean was acting this way, why he was worried about you, and why you liked it. Your arms are still wrapped around his body, fingers curled into the back of his leather jacket, but Dean makes no move to get up, he continues to look at you.

You'd never seen Dean look at you like that, look at you as if he wished to understand you, as if he saw you. No one had ever looked at you that way in your entire life.

"Dean!" You hear Sam yell from somewhere, followed by your own name.

It jolts Dean out of wherever his mind is and he gets off of you, but he helps you to your feet, one of his warm calloused hands taking yours to pull you up before dropping it as if he didn't do it in the first place.

The room is destroyed. The roof has completely caved in allowing the rain to soak through the remaining seats of the auditorium and into the musty carpets. The stage no longer exists, all that remains is a black blob of what you're sure used to be Iris, and although a part of you feels bad about the turn of events, you can't help but feel a little relieved.

She was going to kill me. You think to avoid the wave of guilt that washes over you.

"Ding dong the witch is dead." Dean mutters under his breath, but it doesn't make you feel better.

Fires burn over the edges of the stage, small and controlled, but sending rivulets of smoke into the air. You knew it meant that the fire department would be here any minute and that's the last thing you wanted to explain. That and the body on the stage.

Ben stumbles to his feet a few steps away from Dean and you, pushing off a piece of roofing that must have landed on top of him. His suit is covered in dust and drywall, but he looks okay. He's got that far-away look in his eye he always does after he uses his power.

You step towards him to make sure he's okay, but Dean stands in your way.

"Are you out of your mind?" Dean snarls at Ben.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Ben snaps.

"You almost killed us! Almost killed her!" Dean gestures towards you.

"I fixed the problem." Ben rolls his eyes and glances to you, as if trying to reassure himself that you're okay. You knew that Ben might have wanted to only have a physical relationship with you, but you knew that he did care about you in his own way. "You okay sweetheart?" He pushes past Dean, gently touching your face, tilting it up to his. "Did you hit your head?"

"No. I'm okay." You smile tightly at him, but a part of you can still feel the ghost of Dean's fingertips trailing against your cheeks to push away your hair and feel the weight of his body over yours. "Are you okay?" You ask, noting the way his eyes still are a little unfocused.

"Course I am." Ben scoffs. "Takes a little more than a building to bring me down doll."

You nod, while Ben's hand still continues to rest on your chin, and just as he leans down for a kiss, you see Dean's face in the corner of your eye and finally you're able to identify the emotion reflected in his gaze. It's the same emotion that you saw in the car when he stared at you in the rearview mirror. It's the first time that you've ever seen Dean look at you that way in all the years you'd known him.

It's hurt that flashes behind the green eyes you knew so well, shifting to jealousy on around the darkened edges the longer he looks at Ben and you.

And when Ben's lips touch yours, you feel guilt begin to creep along your skin and extinguish the sparks you'd felt moments ago in the pit of your stomach.

A/N: I'm not going to lie, I did not mean for this part to be a little sad... but oh my word 😭 BUT I also promise that the next chapter will have a happy ending ❤️

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for Part 3 please let me know!

Taglist:

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yunazxxx · 2 days ago

Text

BUT I’M SO OBSESSED WITH YOU — L.R

plot is kind of based off of fear street 78’

genre? : smut, with a murder and obsession plot

now playing : I’m so crazy for youuu </3 by rebzyyx

this content contains the following : obsessive, possessive, psychotic!lara (obviously), killing mention, kind of cheating but not so much?, kinda angst, smut warning, blood mention, g!p lara, heavy etc warning.

author chats?: okay don’t look at me like that.. i have other fics to finish but!! i lit rewatched this movie a while ago and wanted to make this so badly like <///3 so here we are. — certain parts of this is corny as SHITTTTTTT. but i’m not rewriting this for a while. — daniela is cindy… (im sorry but nor sorry…)

word count? : 4.0k

—

the day began as normal as you'd expect a day at camp to go, you decided to go on a walk along the campsite, talking with your friends.

while they walked along the trail, lara and daniela (in place of cindy) came from the dining hall and were talking about god knows what.

you didn't bother to pay them any mind, or well “them" as a whole, but you would sometimes pay lara a little mind.

but of course, it wouldn't be anything more than just the basic student and counselor relationship. they got along fairly well, like she did with all of the campers.

today just, felt, different though. it was like the atmosphere was off, in all honesty it felt like something was bound to happen.

you continued on walking though, and your friends disbursed into their own cabins while you walked to yours.

you heaved a heavy sigh before sitting on your bed, and lying back first. you would run your fingers through your hair, and and close your eyes.

you couldn't really change where your mind was going, in fact, you were only thinking about, lara? it felt weird, to say the complete least. you weren’t so cool with daniela, but you two also weren't on the worst terms.

you could really only sigh, if it wasn't the issue that they had with being camper and counselor, then it was definitely the relationship.

you always tried your best to just hide it but almost always having to be around her made you fall in love with her more, but were you to blame?

i mean, she was innocent, caring, really loving and kind. if you were to be honest with everyone, including yourself, you would get jealous seeing daniela and her hold hands as often as they did.

yeah, she wasn't yours, not yet at least, but to see her with another girl, fuck you hated it so much. you would sometimes would end up stumbling across her and dani while they kissed, but you would walk off and pretend like nothing happened.

they never knew though, they didn't ever mention it. you would always end up punching a wall though, never being able to come up to lara and tell her how you really felt.

you was easily caught up in your thoughts of lara, not hearing the door being knocked on. the quiet knocking quickly became louder and snapped the girl out of it.

you got off of your bed and opened the door, and speak of the fucking devil, "heyy! we missed you today in the dining hall, what happened?" lara asked you.

you had an insane impulse to just pull her into a kiss, but she was also holding direct eye contact which would've made it much more enjoyable —

but to say what didn't need to be said was that you didn't go through with kissing her but instead came up with some random excuse as to why.

and she, of course, bought it because, why would she not? you mentioned having an upset stomach, so she offered to go and get you some medicine and you gladly accepted.

something that was an important mention was that you loved seeing her run, but it was more than just loving her form but you genuinely enjoyed watching her run, you found it attractive, for some reason.

not long later she did return with the medicine, also with a few other items for you. she took some of the medicine while she demonstrated how to use it, and would also give you some water.

you would, of course, thank lara and she would get up to leave, and you let her go but it seemed once the door closed you were completely losing your mind.

you wanted, no, needed lara as yours. you swore to do everything in your power to make that possible and finally have what you deserved, or felt you did.

but it wasn't like a normal crush, one you’ve already gone through the getting to know them, already gone through the getting closer phase, basically every single phase that was required, you and lara had already done it.

but it wasn't like she could be alone with you for more than two minutes because why would a counselor need more than that much time with a student alone, so you really never had the chance to ever catch her because if she wasn't attending to her duties around the capmus, then her bitch of a girlfriend daniela had her and her attention.

you never could wrap your head around what lara saw in the latina, she was so, prissy, it was annoying. they weren't really anything alike, so how they made thngs work was beyond you, but you also didn't really give a flying fuck bevause you were going to make lara yours however you really had to.

it was't like the signs weren't there, it was obvious she felt the same, the way she would smile at you, the way she would talk to you, the way she would teat you and help you, how gentle she was with you.

she was as gentle as one would be with a fresh wet painting, it made you feel special but you always knew that she was just like that. as previously stated, she was a soft kind girl.

she was the innocent, "lara raj" after all. she was the heartthrob amongst the camp. and daniela fucking avanzini was the girl to get her first.

if we were to be honest, and let the reader be honest with herself for once, she didn't really care as heavily at first because she was a taken woman after all and she respected daniela at the time, and same for lara, so she wouldnt even graze the thought of doing such a thing.

but it just seemed one day, things weren't really the same, she would watch daniela and the same feeling of respect for her superior and admiration turned to straight jealousy and envy. she hated daniela, wanted her gone to be honest. but, "gone" is the nicest thing we could say she wanted to happen to the blonde.

but in somewhat of a cliche fashion, you found yourself alone with lara. something that was decently normal between the two was that they may run into each other randomly during the day and you would come up with any excuse in the book why you might need lara to stay there for a small while longer but somene would either walk in or you would freeze up so badly that you was unable to speak or even form words together to let lara know you liked her.

the second you would get close to her, your heartbeat and breathing would pick up, something you can always recall was when she helped wake you back up with cpr after you passed out.

the world felt like it was slowing down when you opened your eyes, seeing her looking at you with that same worried expression that she has now.

"y/n?" she said, throwing you out of your daze, "what's going on? why are you in here?" the indian woman asked, her eyebrow raising. your eyes quickly scanned over her, her outift and her entire demeanor, feeling your brain cloud while you felt weaker in your knees by the second. "oh, nothing jus uhh.." your eyes began to dart across the room, trying to find something to say to evade the conversation but once you finally looked back at lara, her brown orbs were looking back into yours.

but no words were spoken, the room fell completely silent. you silently hoped that someone would walk in and ruin this slightly awkward vibe but no one came to your rescue. lara looked away from you for a second, but looked back at you. she broke the silence, once gain asking why you were here and you told the truth. you didn't really have a reason to be inside of that room with her but they always had the most privacy there compared to anywhere else.

something in your head kept yelling, telling you to tell him now before it was "too late" whatever that meant. "lara?" you called for her, and she looked at you, "yea?" she asked, and you took a slow breath. she looked at you , and she placed her hand on yours.

you looked down at your hands, then back up at her, and her eyes were softy looking into yours and she nodded to you, reassuring you that it was okay to speak, and that you did. "i don't know how i can say this, it's hard." you said, your eyes quickly looking away from the black haired woman in front of you.

"take a breath, take your time", she smiled to you, “we have all the time in world" she said, her voice finishing off so gently. you could feel yourself melting to her touch and voice, but you knew you had to say something. "uhm. okay, see, i like you" you said, but as you finished your sentence your voice got lower to the point lara couldn't hear you.

"what was that?" she softly asked, her head tilting down with hers. she used her free hand to lift your head up to look at her.

“you can say it" she smled, god she looks so stupid. you looked into her eyes, "i like you, like i'm in love with you" you said, but quickly your speech picked up, "but i know it's wrong, you're already in a relationship and you're a consoler while i’m a camper, and you have-" she cut you off, kissing you.

her hand cupped your cheek, as their eyes closed at the same time, their lips slowly moving in sync. after a small while, they broke apart, "lara..” you exhaled against her lips after the kiss broke, and she smiled, "yes?" she answered. you were in pure shock, not being able to process what happened.

"i like you too, you know?" she said it, but so casually. "what?" you couldn't register anyhting that was happening. "wait, you like me?" she was just, surprised.

“yes! god, i could never tell you because of the slight worry you didn't feel the same" she said, keeping that same stupid smile on her face. they decided to say the magic words, "lara will you be my girlfriend?", "as long as you'll be my girlfriend" you just smiled, basking in this moment with lara.

it wasn't like something was off either, not like this was a dare or a prank to be played on you, she was being genuine. you sighed, finally feeling at peace to get that off of your chest. lara saw how late it was, knowing you should've been asleep a long time ago, so after they bided their goodbyes she went to hers and daniela’s shared dorm/cabin.

she locked the door, seeing the she was sleeping peacefully, something in her kept saying “don't have to do it, you shouldnt do it. it isn't worth it.” but it is. she walked her way to her bags, grabbing something sharp, specifically a knife with a blade of 12 inches.

the more closer she got to actally doing it, her brain screamed louder not to, but she didn't care. you see, somethig about lara is that she was definetly a character. she never really was what everyone would describe her as. of course, that was the facade she began to go by but the real lara raj wasn't all much of a saint, she didn't have good history with certain things, daniela being one of them but due to them having that dumbass "perfect couple" title, she ws forced to keep up the soft girl look, or “girl next door”.

the more she thought about how she had to hide the way he actual was and felt ever since they gaind that title, she would get more and more mad now standing over daniela, gripping the handle tighter than before. she raied the blade over her head, planning how she’s gonna through with this but deciding that this would be too messy.

so she carefull draged the sleeping girl into the bathroom, placing her in the bathtub, "damn, heavy sleeper huh?" she said, and chuckle to herself. this wasn't such a lara thing though, for one she would barely ever swear, two cause harm to someone, again she was known as someone who couldn't even harm a fly.

she held the knife again, this time pulling daniela’s face back and lining the blade with her throat. she had the knives pre sharpened before any of this, she didn't care how she had to do it, she was getting with y/n (you).

the girl didn't need any prep, and lined the blade back up, pressing her hand against her mouth as tightly as she physically could as she sliced the blade across her throat. the blood began to slowly fall down, but she did it again to ensure she was dead.

she then stabbed the blade into daniela’s throat before dragging it down through her chest, watching as the blonde woman’s blood began to stain the pajamas and their bathtub.

the redhead only continued, practically mutilating the sleeping woman’s body before coming to her senses and moved her hand off of her, looking at her handy work and smiling to herself, loving how she looked all bloodied up. she smiled watching the blood spill from her neck and the huge gash in her body, but would soon get bored of it, she would stab the knife directly into the other side of her chest, and went to wash her hands.

she changed her clothes, and went to sleep that night like nothing ever happened, which would be the case for so many days. she would live her life like nothing, ever happened, anytime someone would ask about daniela and/or her where abouts she’d would lie and say she went home early or whatever.

and what makes it better is that she got away with it for so long, she was successful until the smell began to stink up her room, she couldnt even be in there, she went to the bathroom and noticed that her body began decaying in the bathtub.

and so she decided that same night she would hide her body, she went and grabbed some bags along with rope and a shovel. it was dark out, meaning she'd need a flashlight, which always, never works out for anyone trying to get rid of a body this late.

she would contiue her stroll to the storage room, and walked inside in seach for a flashlight, which she'd find along with getting a heart attack from you randomly appearing behind her. she slightly jumped but didn't scream, "why are you in here?" she first asked, "how are you in here?" she asked another question to follow and you answered her.

"door was slightly cracked and when i walked past your room, it had a really bad scent to it" you said, hinting at the obvious stench of rotting flesh that filled her place of residence. you would just look at her, while she just looked back at you.

she sighed, "let's just say something got into my room and rotted before i was able to realize" she said, but you already knew what that something might be. it had been days since anyone had last seen daniela, and you, yourself hasn't done ayting to her so she knew it was lara’s doing but instead of it scaring you, or running you away, you instead wanted her so much more now.

"let me help get rid of it" you said, but lara shook her head, "no i don't think you should get involved" she said, grabbing the things that were needed before making her way to the door. and doing everything but listening to lara, you followed behind her and began to rapidly ask to be with her while she gets rid of the body.

it didn't take much longer before she gave in and allowed you to go along with her. she laid the body on the gound, slaminng it down due to how heavy it was and began removing the teeth fom the body. "why do you have to take her teeth out, eugh" you asked while turning away, gagging at the sight. “dental records, baby" she replied and then began to dig a shallow grave for her.

"how did you, do it?" you asked while they walked off, did you really care though? to say the least, no. but there was something about seeing her a sweaty mess while carrying the shovel while you two walked back that just made you feel insane.

"a simple slice to the throat, nothing too extravagant." she said casually, but was lying. your mouth was agape, “you slit her throat?" you asked, and she nodded.

you couldn't believe that lara, the camp’s virgin innocent princess, would murder someone, especially so off rip.

her modus operandi? love, what else would it had been? you were genuinely unable to wrap you head around the fact that she chose such an executon style, it was, attractive to you, for some reason. you loved that she killed for you, that she got rid of the bitch that you hated so much.

they didn't stop at the storage cloet to put away the stuff, instead they just took it wih them inside of lara’s place. she left all of her windows open to hopefully be rid of the stench that has now taken over her entier home.

she walked inside first, alerting you of the smell before opening the door and she went straight to the bathrom and began cleaning it.

she didn't use a lot of bleach, the smell was really obvious and intoxicationg so lara decided to use other other things to ensure evey last blood stain was cleaned.

it went as well as you'd expect any cleain proces to go, she even drained her of majority of her blood before she began to decay just incase the blood became an issue.

after she finshed cleaning the blood, she when and grabbed her a pair of clean clothes to wear and anything she’s worn in between the day daniela died until now were all getting burned.

while she was getting cleaned up, you was feeling a little silly and decided to go inside of the shower with her. she didn't hear your footsteps but felt when you got inside of the shower with her.

you didn’t move or do anything but instead stood there, partially hoping she didn't notice you but secretly hoping she did. she continued to shower like it was nothing though, but when she turned around to face you, she didn't see your face automatically and instead saw your head.

"darlin, look, my eyes are up here" she said and your eyes followed along her body, noticing her defined abs and just how hot she looked with wet hair. she held the back of your head and pulled you into a kiss, really there was no need for words, the tension was so thick it made it all so obvious.

you couldnt help but get so turned on during this kiss, you were already in love with the way her lips would move against hers, how soft but passionate she was with it, god it all drove you so crazy. you would moan into the kiss, and start pressing your wet naked body against hers, feeling her semi-hard cock against your clit.

lara broke apart from the kiss, you whining at the loss of contact but was quickly met with something better. she asked you to open your legs a bit, sliding her cock between your thighs. she held your hips and slowly thrusted her hips, you moaned lowly, you both held eye contact while she sped her hips up.

the sound of your skin slapping against each other filled the room, the water spilled down your bodies. her grip on your waist got stronger while she sped up, causing her to whimper a little while your moans quickly picked up.

the need for each other grew more and more by the second, so you both agreed fuck the shower and she brought you to her bed.

she laid you down on the bed, and began attacking and kissing at your neck. she left nice hickeys on you, your hands traveled down her body and you reached for her cock, lining her up with your entrance. she slowly pushed herself inside of you, she filled you up so slowly but fuck she had length on her.

she dragged her cock out of your cunt, before slamming back inside, she held your hips down and proceeded to slam down inside of you.

she fixed herself, sitting up completly and held your hips and began fucking into you. your moans picked back up, you were much louder than before. she kept with this pace, not speeding up but not slowing down either. she moved her hands along your body and contied thrusting inside of you, her hand stopped at your neck while she gently choked you.

the indian use used her free hand to began rubbing your clit while she thrusted. she changed their positions, now she was under you and lowering you down on her cock.

she slid back inside with ease, and grounded her feet on the bed before thrusting into your cunt. her hands began grabbing at your breast and playing with them, taking the other into her mouth.

"mmth fuck~ cumming" you moaned and unravels on her shaft, your cum coating her cock completely causing making it easier for her to slide in and out.

her cock began to twitch inside your warm cunt, the sound of your moans echoing throughout, along with her own and your wet skin hitting each other. due to the grip you had on her cock, she didn't care for anything.

she threw you back under her and forced all of herself inside of her, she put both of her hands on your neck and continued with a brutal pace, the need for each other continued to grow more by the second.

she watched as you slowly began to gasp for air, then she let go, focusing her hands elsewhere while you came once again.

she chuckled at the scene under her, seeing how much of mess you were but loving how pretty you looked while cumming on her cock.

she changed their positions again, this time making the girl sit on her cock, she held her hips and slowly guided her while rocking them.

you didn't know what to do with your hands, you loved being used by lara as a fuck toy but god you were mindless about where to place your hands.

she would hold your waist harder and proceed to slam you down in such an uneven rhythm it told you that she was close. she began thrusting up inside of you and you could feel how deep her cock was now, the bulge being seen through your abdomen was genuinely mind boggling to you.

once agains you came undone on her cock, but directly after your orgasm it followed lara’s and she slammed down for the final time before the grasp on your hips became tighter as she filled you up.

"god you sound so so pretty when you cum" lara panted out, still slowly rocking her hips inside of your tired body. you nodded weakly, not really being able to speak by this point, lara basically fucked your brains out.

she gently pulled herself out, and reached to get you a shirt. she slid on her boxers and quickly cuddled you, and kissed your forehead. they pressed their foreheads together while they attempted to catch their breath.

lara would slightly move her head to kiss you cheeks, her arms wrapping around your body, which prompted you to turn around and lay down to face the opposite on her but being directly against her chest.

she pulled you as close as your bodies would go, her arms wrapped around you gently. she pulled the covers over you, kissing your shoulder and neck gently. "i love you" she softly whispered against your sleeping figure, and a smile crept on her face.

#kpop #r talks #girl group smut #kpop smut #katseye #katseye imagines #spotify #lara raj #katseye lara raj x reader #lara raj x reader #lara katseye #lara #katseye lara

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sleepymccoy · 3 days ago

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So I've seen a few seasons of supernatural in my life. Got to season 5 then trialled off and have seen a fair bit of the rest but not consistently and def not to the end. Haven't watched any in years and years, too

Anyway, I say this to highlight how bizarre it is that I had a lovely destiel dream last night

It'd make a killer fic I think, so enjoy this synopsis

Premise very much like that ep where Dean forgets his life and works in an office dressed like a lil fruit

^ that ep

Anyway the idea is that Dean forgets his life but is otherwise the same. But without the hunting stuff he's semi deadbeat working in a bar and hooking up with random women. Also Sam wasn't part of his childhood I guess, the dream didn't explain why Dean wouldn't know Sam but whatever

Castiel and Sam keep coming into the world to try and get Dean to perform a series of actions he needs to perform in order to be released from the spell. They're kinda bizarre tho and Dean doesn't recognise these guys so it's a challenge. Like, eat this daisy and have a tequila chaser. Sleep in a bed with bay leaves stuffed underneath. Stand in one spot for a minute while the sigil to release you gets engaged. That kind of thing

Dean has like feelings for them, but doesn't know them. He trusts Sam completely and they click but he's kind of weirded out by how comfortable he is with the stranger. And Cas, he wants to protect and fuck Cas in a way that's so overwhelming he can't handle it

Anyway, this is a longish post so click through for the blow by blow

Sam manages to talk him into having the flower and drink by doing it himself and pretending it's a fun way to drink. Dean takes part and is totally unimpressed but has a laugh about it

Cas slips in next with the intention of watching Dean hook up with someone and sneaking bay leaves under the bed before they get down and dirty. Because Cas can fly out the window if he needs to escape quick they figure he's the better choice for that gig. But as soon as Dean sees him it goes sideways because Dean has an immediately unavoidable crush on the raggedy middle aged dude in a Columbo coat

But this Dean didn't have the same loyalty to his father in youth cos there was no hunting to help make sense of the abuse he suffered. So he's not as caught up in his internalised (and externalised) homophobia and maybe even hooked up with a guy or two at school

It's still not normal for him and he's a bit surprised, but it takes him one beer and some disconcerting staring to get over it, and then he approaches

Cas is Unprepared™ for a full flirt from Dean and is very quickly taken in by it. It's fun and cheerful and Dean keeps swapping their drinks and stealing chips and leaning his hand on Cas' thigh when he whispers a joke to him. Cas is just dizzy and swimming in it and doesn't know what to do. He's totally lost track of what's going on

Eventually he excuses himself to go to the bathroom and checks in with Sam, who's had an hour of watching them flirt outrageously and is thoroughly bemused, amused, and has his eyes on the goal. "Get him into bed and put the damned leaves in place!"

So Cas goes back and Dean's paid the tab and is offering to drive and Cas just like you're drunk absolutely not. They make out against the door of Dean's beat up Ford Focus and Cas knows he's not gonna come back from this

He's loved Dead a long time, and there's something painful in the kiss and feeling the immorality of it. But there's something so wonderful too. And if it's got to happen, and Sam says it's got to happen so he can outsource that decision, he can take it as far as it needs to go. Save Dean, then apologise and skedaddle

At least he's got Sam's permission, so Sam can argue his side in his absence until Dean forgives him

It doesn't take long for Dean to kiss Cas into forgetting to feel guilty, tho. Then Dean starts talking about how Cas feels different to anyone else he's ever touched before and he doesn't understand why but he wants him so damned bad.

The Dean pulls back and offers to go slow. Pick you up for breakfast, go on a few dates before what's next

And Cas wants that so bad, he wants to be special, his skin aches for it. But he needs access to Dean's bed so he spearheads getting them into a motel together for the night, feeling slightly cheap and awful about it, but Dean's smile is unparalleled and the awful slides away every time he looks at him

They fuck a bit. Cas' guilt about it all isn't his focus, as soon as Dean's hand is on his dick he's only in the moment. I think Cas keeps it to mutual blow jobs, tho, he wants to save anything more for a Dean who knows him. He lies there's thinking about that afterwards and remembers that the Dean who knows him doesn't want him like this, this is some confused fucked up neuron thing.

Anyway after a bit of post coital bliss Dean gets up to piss and Cas shoves bay leaves under the mattress. Cas then insists on laying together a bit longer, they make out sloppy and Dean is very sweet and Cas loves him and eventually Dean dozes off. Tick off the second ritual

I reckon the last one ends up easy enough. While Dean sleeps Cas holds him and hums while Sam awkwardly and without looking directly at them carves the sigil in the floor. When Dean wakes up Cas makes a big deal about how pretty he is in the light and stay right there so I can take a photo of you

So Dean's striking a stupid sexy pose when the spell fades. And he realises everything that's happened and the significance of it all

Also Sam's in the room now and that's just a bit fucking awkward

Cas just leaves, cos he doesn't know what else to do. He texts Dean an apology. Dean doesn't respond for like three days which is just hellish but eventually he texts back saying come over and talk.

So Cas does. Dean's sorry too, Sam has talked him into recognising that he really got the ball rolling and Cas was a bit cornered. And Cas, desperate to not have Dean feel guilty, talks about his feelings in this vague and uncertain way. But ultimately says he glad he had a chance, even in a false world. Nice to have the memories

And Dean's just like. Okay. So you didn't hate it? And I didn't hate it. And now that there's no crazy spell to work through, do you want to take it slow?

What? Cas says

Breakfast date?

Cas is useless at taking it slow. He goes on this breakfast date and does his ridiculous I love humanity because I loved you first speech and Dean's like fuck man this is intense to hear over eggs and shit coffee! But yeah I'm sitting on some feeling that've kicked passed loyalty into devotion and I also kinda want to suck your dick again so shut up and let me come to terms with being gay a bit slower, fucking hell. You're beautiful, give me a kiss

They figure it out

#supernatural #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #heres one for the fucking books lol #i woke up like #hey cool plot #can i make that fit characters i care about a bit more?#no?#no thats a destiel plot that is #ok time to make a supernatural post

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singsweetmelodies · 18 hours ago

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Piarles Winter Fic Exchange 2024/25 - The Final Round-Up

AO3 Collection Link

It's that time of the year again, and we are so excited to reveal the fics from the Piarles Winter Fic Exchange of 2024/25!

We want to start by saying a MASSIVE thank you to all our incredible creators. You are all so wonderful and so so talented - it has been an honour and a pleasure to spend the last few months with you. To laugh with you and to create with you and to share the Piarles joy with you. You are all phenomenal, and we feel so lucky that you chose to spend this time with us. ❤️

I also want to take this opportunity to say a personal thank you to my amazing mod team: @duquesademiel, @yukierres, and @welightitup. Moderating this exchange with you has been a pleasure and a privilege. Thank you all, for everything!

Below the cut we have the final round-up of all our 2024/25 Piarles Winter Fic Exchange gift fics. You are in for a real treat - enjoy!!! And don’t forget to show the authors some love in the form of kudos, comments, bookmarks and tumblr reblogs 💘

Thank you all so much again.

Love and hugs,

Katie, Sol, Immy & Tia. 🎁❄️💙

On Laughter-Silvered Wings by @espithewarlock | rated T | 50k words

Pierre's greatest dream is to join The Institution as one of the Carers - the people who watch and maintain dragon eggs for their eventual Dragon Riders. When he forms a True Bond with one of the eggs, Pierre is thrilled to join the nobles who are assigned to eggs within the same clutch. Unfortunately, the reception he receives from his classmates is less than welcoming.

we better make a start by @gaynfl | rated M | 12k words

A holiday together, like old times, means Pierre is heading home for the first time in five years. Oh, and seeing the person he's never really gotten over. or... love, in the Alps.

Do you still think of me sometimes? by @golden-fairylights | rated E | 15k words

“I mean, we would probably have more fun in bed than you had with him,” states Charles, still giggling, and he only realizes what he said when Pierre stills, his eyes fixed on Charles once more, but this time it feels completely different. “I mean,” Charles panics and desperately tries to find a way to talk himself out of this mess, “not that we should.” “No, but that’s not even a bad idea, Cha.” Charles’ mouth shuts when Pierre leans closer, his eyes moving quickly as if he is thinking the whole thing through again. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we are best friends, we can just tell each other if we don’t like something, we both have big career goals, so for both of us, friends with benefits is the best option. You told me you have experiences with that, I do too, as you well know now. It would be perfect.” --- They meet at Juilliard. Two kids with big dreams - love is definitely not part of them. But nothing can go wrong if they are friends with benefits. Not if they follow their rules. Right?

AFTER HOURS by @hourcat | rated E | 42k words

“He said,” Alex had repeated back to him as they did the final rounds, “that their star performer just collapsed in rehearsals this afternoon.” “And they called us?” “They called the hospital, who recommended a few local rehabilitation clinics for muscle pulls and shit. We were on that list, and Vasseur called us.” or: Charles is the star of this year's Nutcracker-themed Cirque du Soleil Christmas show in New York City, but a hamstring injury puts his availability at risk at the worst possible time. Enter Pierre Gasly: the best PT in all of Manhattan...or so he says.

you bring me something I can’t define by @tiredtiredsharl | rated E | 13k words

Pierre says it while Charles’ fork is halfway to his mouth and that’s how the rice ends up in his lap, the herbed butter staining the very delicate linen immediately. “It is just unfortunate that I am stuck now with calling a rut service.” Charles’ hand shakes as he brushes the rice onto the patio ground. It’s probably rude. Someone will have to sweep it up, but Charles’ hands are shaking and he needs to hide them, so he stuffs them underneath his thighs and looks directly at Pierre when he says, “I am free.” Charles offers a few days of his time. He ends up with much more.

oh, he makes me dizzy (honey honey) by @your-littlesecret | rated G | 15k words

In hindsight, a 10-day road trip on the Italian coast with his best friend whom he's secretly in love with might not have been his best idea. But Lance is getting married and Charles has never been able to say no to Pierre. Maybe things will be just fine between them...

I, can’t afford to lose you any longer by @laeana | Not Rated | 6k words

When Charles wakes up with a pounding headache and a strange tattoo around his wrist, he doesn't know yet that he has involved himself with a Fae. The deal he made? The possibility to find his one true love in exchange for his F1 career if he doesn't succeed within a year. A stupid deal really. That's how he starts to search for his destined one, with Pierre by his side.

a light in your window by @chaesonghwas } rated E | 39k words

Mr. Charles Leclerc has been in love with his best friend, Mr. Pierre Gasly, for as long as he has been on this Earth. There is only one problem - Pierre is an alpha and Charles is decidedly a beta... until he presents as an omega unexpectedly one day, leaving their friendship compromised and forcing a betrothal. - Or: how Charles' destiny changes, nudging him towards Pierre.

one deep breath out from the sky by @duquesademiel | rated M | 60k words

Ten years ago, Pierre left his hometown because he couldn’t bear seeing Charles leave to fulfil a destiny he thought would end in death. Today, he’s back.

Sickness by another name by @captaincrabpot | rated T | 33k words

Charles is approaching his last season in formula one, facing the finality of all he’s spent his life working for. Pierre is mentoring an up and coming driver who just signed her first contract in F1 for Ferrari, and though he would die for her, he’s going to have to face his ex best friend who broke his heart right before the crash that ruined his life. Doriane just wants to win, and if that means parent trapping her mentor and his weird ex… well, that would be fine.

Right In Front of Me by @espithewarlock | rated G | 4k words

Charles' magic has always been strong and he believed it would only get stronger once he met his soulmate. When the FIA mandates tests to determine if they've met their soulmate, Charles discovers that he already has. Maybe going as far back as when his magic manifested. Now, he just has to figure out who it is.

Closing Arguments by queenofblasphemy | Not Rated | 8k words

Charles's first day at one of the most prestigious law firms in the country starts out with meeting an asshole at a café. An asshole that would soon play a bigger part in his life than he could ever have imagined.

the sound of the saw must be known by the tree by @radiocheck } rated T | 25k words

“What are you doing here?” Pierre looked around him as if there was an audience waiting to laugh at such an obvious question. “Oh, I don’t know. Studying?” “You’re… you’re… you…” Charles could feel his face turning furiously red the longer Pierre stared at him with that infuriating, lopsided smile. His heart and mind were racing at a million miles an hour and his mouth simply couldn’t keep up. “You’re studying architecture.” It wasn’t a question. “At the school I wanted to go to my whole life.” “Architectural and interdisciplinary studies, actually.” Charles’ embarrassment and confusion were suddenly replaced by an intense, burning rage. This was his dream. It always had been. Pierre knew that, and Charles knew just as well that he didn’t have the slightest bit of interest in studying the same thing, or even going to university at all. “Because of me?” Charles was raising his voice now and drew himself up in stature, trying to make the most of the centimetre of height he had on Pierre. “Do I still occupy such a vast space in your mind that you came all the way here to fucking ruin my life?” OR: what happens when Charles gets into his dream uni only to find his ex enrolled in the same class.

for I can’t help falling in love with you by @tiredtiredsharl | rated E | 40k words

Pierre is doing his best. He's a single dad and even though the French Immersion School was not in his plan, he understands why his in-laws feel it's important Aimée attend. He's doing his best. He could never have seen his daughter's theatre professor coming in a million years and maybe it's best that it caught him completely off guard - falling in love for the first time unprepared. Maybe that's what's best.

in a daze, learning each other’s shapes by @singsweetmelodies | rated E | 28k words

When Charles Leclerc's friends bully him into joining them on a ten-day holiday to a beautiful island for New Year's, Charles is barely even expecting to enjoy it, let alone meet the love of his life there. But then he meets Pierre, and everything changes.

pushing it down and praying by @yukierres | rated T | 21k words

“Mon petite, you need to not give up hope, I am sure there is someone out there perfect for you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you,” Pascale reminds him, voice full of motherly affection alongside the sadness. “But how am I meant to find them when I get hounded whenever I go out,” Pierre sobs, frustration likely loud in his voice, too sharp to be directed at his mother but he is too upset to notice. She doesn’t pull him out on it, instead pulling him tighter into her chest. “If you want someone so badly and you can’t find anyone, I will find someone for you. I am the Queen of France, I have connections, and there is nothing more that I want than for you to be happy.” Pascale suggests, nothing but kindness in her words. “And it would be so great if it could be before the Jubilee next year as well, so the media can see you nice and cosy with your new partner.” “Please,” is all he can whisper back, letting the tears fall from his eyes again. OR Pierre marries a stranger, falls in love, and watches himself break both of their hearts.

hear them sing (see them shine) by @alpinelogy | rated T | 10k words

The first time Pierre meets Charles, Charles is camped out in an asteroid belt that was once a moon before another celestial body crashed into it. It surrounds a planet near a dying star, practically only a red dwarf now. Soon, it will become a supernova. It is an uninteresting star, there is no beacon for it in the space time continuum. Charles has gotten better at controlling his hopping, over the years, decades, millennia even. OR: Charles keeps meeting Pierre over and over again for the first time.

twenty-five lives by @vicsy } rated M | 23k words

“I think I was meant to come back to you,” Charles whispered, overcome with a rare kind of veracity. Pierre brought his hand up, letting it hover momentarily. Then he swiped a pad of his thumb across Charles’ cheekbone, maddeningly slow, sealing his words with an invisible brand. “Good,” he drawled, voice but a gentle rumble; a purr of an engine. “You should stay.”

❤️💙

#piarles winter fic exchange 24/25 #piarles winter fic exchange #pwfe 3.0 #piarles fic #10 x 16 #thank you so much for another wonderful exchange! ❤️💙

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 2 months ago

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In Your Eyes, in the Ice and Rain

Two Weeks of Hitsuhina - Day 3: Wings / On a Starry night

Rating: T/Teen for violence and mild descriptions of injuries.

Setting: before BLEACH’s main story; Hitsugaya is still a third seat and Hinamori the lieutenant of Fifth Division.

Synopsis: During a battle against a pack of Hollows, Hitsugaya's duties as a Shinigami and sense of self is tested when Hinamori gets hurt.

AN: I'm late for the start of the week, but better late than never!

This was such a random idea. I considered not writing it, but then I got started and it took over. If I had to describe this fic in two words, it’d be ‘high emotions’, so prepare for angst, some hurt/comfort towards the end, and probably some out-of-characterness.

It was partly inspired by the song Farewell, My Friend by There’s a Light (YT | Spotify), but more by two images I got while thinking on this theme: one of Hinamori pleading to Hitsugaya (while he has his bankai activated) to save everyone and he was shocked by this, and the other of Hitsugaya coming to Hinamori’s side when she’s injured, hunched over and holding her hand.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one.

_____________________

Hinamori is sent hurtling through the air, and Hitsugaya's forget how to breathe. She arcs over the battle, high above everyone’s heads, out of sight and focus of her subordinates and his fellow tenth Division Shinigami.

He doesn’t come out of his shock until her back smacks off a tree trunk and she tumbles through the branches to the ground. He shouts her name, louder than the Hollows' cries around him.

He flash-steps and catches her before she can hit the ground. She lets out a pained cry at the same time one of the Huge Hollow he’d been fighting roars because its prey vanished out of sight. He almost loses his grip on Hyourinmaru, and hefts Hinamori higher up so her head can rest on his shoulder. But she whirls around, looking without seeing, and thrashes against him.

“Hinamori, stop! You're hurt!” he yells, unintentionally making his grip tighter on her. She barely calms her frantic movements, hasn’t even registered that he’s the one holding her.

He glances at Tobiume lying on the ground. He doesn’t have time to pick up the zanpakuto, but kicks it off to the side, into the cover of bushes. He hurriedly retreats away from the battle, going deeper into the forest. The trees do little to shelter them from the rain, with drops showering over him as he runs, and he folds his wings in tightly so they don’t thrash against the low hanging branches or shrubbery in his way.

He ignores the pain lancing up his leg from the wound he’d gotten just minutes ago. The reason she’d come running to him during the battle, seeing him slashed by ones of the Huge Hollows that’d converged on him. After the wound was inflicted, he’d pretended to be at the creatures’ mercy to lure them into a false sense of security. They would lunge for him while he used a bankai technique to freeze them all in place at once. He’d only practice the ability once, but things were getting desperate in the fight and he needed to take more then one down at a time.

But then she’d come charging in, letting out a furious cry as she launched a fireball at one of the Hollow’s backs, setting it alight before leaping up behind it and landing at the nape of its bent neck and bringing Tobiume to cleave the mask in two from behind. Dislodging her blade, she’d kicked off from its head and landed in front of Hitsugaya while it disintegrated to nothing.

She’d launched another fireball at one, sending the Hollow falling back and being attacked by other Shinigami form behind. She’d briefly glanced over her shoulder at him, her gaze wavering between fury and concern within seconds, before returning her attention to Huge Hollows before them. He couldn’t speak, was in awe of her skill but also shocked she had come to his defence. he forgot about his plan, about getting up because the wound didn't truly hinder his ability to stand and fight.

She was halfway through chanting a kido when the Huge Hollow with oversized, clawed hands slashed her left limbs. Before she could even let out a cry, it back handed her, catapulting her away.

Hitsugaya comes out of his recollection when he nearly slips and falls on a slick of mud in the grass. Blinking rain from his eyes, he can’t see but can still hear the battle. It’ll do.

Hinamori, having realised who was carrying her, had stilled her thrashing. “H-Hitsu –” She gasps as he lowers her to the ground, propping her back up against a tree trunk. She groans while clutching her side with her good arm. “Where…?”

“Don’t talk,” he instructs, but his voice is shaky.

Seeing her like this is like the first time he saw her cry; it felt wrong, like something someone like her shouldn't do. Blood runs down her scratched legs and arm, falling either to the ground or being absorbed by the shreds of her uniform. Her hair has been slowly loosening from its usual bun, with the hair cloth missing and the ribbon torn. He supects, judging from the lack of blood not seeping from between her fingers, her side is likely bruised but not torn. Her back is likely the same. There are several tiny cuts across her face and arms, likely from the branches she fell into. Bruising has formed on the side of her neck and her breathing is staggered and wheezing. What if she has a broken rib?

He shakes his head against the nausea and rising panic. “I’ll get started on treatment.”

The rain comes down faster and thicker. Hinamori winces as it pelts over her injuries. Without a second thought, Hitsugaya brings a wing over her head. At the shadow cast over her and the lack of rain hitting her, she blinks and looks up. Her reflection is warped in the ice, it’d be comical if it weren’t for how dire situation was.

“T-Thanks,” she stammers.

He stabs Hyourinmaru into the ground and breaks the ice away from his hands, the blunt talons falling to the earth and melting to slush in the rain. Then he kneels, keeping the wing above her. Fearing she has a concussion, he instructions, “Stay still, okay? Don’t move your head anymore. I’m going to take a look at your injuries.” She lets out a hum, and he takes it as her understanding.

She whimpers when he peels back the remains of her sleeve and hakama leg until the wounds are completely visible. The blood drains from his face and the world briefly spins at the sight of her leg injury; that’ll need Fourth Division’s work. There is only so much he can do for such a wound, but her kido surpasses his. He cringes at the idea of her having to treat her own injury while in this state, but they don’t have any other options.

He gingerly wraps his fingers around the wrist of her bad arm. “I can heal this one. Once I seal it over, you heal the one on your leg and I’ll work on your side and back.”

“It really hurts.” She starts to look down. “Is it that bad?”

“Don’t look yet,” he instructs softly, laying a light touch on her shoulder. “It’s…just don’t look until you need to.”

He expects her to make a sound while moving her arm, but she doesn’t. He doesn't think about, just chants for the healing kido. He gets no relief even when the teal glow emanates from his palms over the scratches. She winces through gritted, but it’s only when he looks up to reassure her that he realises she’d returned to looking at Hyourinmaru’s wing.

“This is your bankai…” She’s breathless still and there’s a slight slur in her speech, but her dazed gaze has turned into something akin to awe despite the pain.

“Yes,” he says, even though she hadn’t posed it as a question.

“I never seen it in battle before,” she breathes. “It’s incredible.”

The small cuts on her arm heal beneath the kido and the larger wound scabs over; with any luck, it’s healing internally too.

Hitsugaya sighs. How can he get her to focus on herself? “Forget about the battle. I’ll help with healing your leg before working your side.”

“I saw you out there,” she continues, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Before that Hollow attacked you, you were turning the tide for us.”

His heart aches. If she’d only known that he’d had a plan, that she was never meant to get involved. No, that’s not it. He shouldn’t have been so reckless. He should've just cut the Hollows down one at a time. He shouldn't have gotten carried away with watching her protect him when she didn't need to.

“Hitsugaya-kun?”

His breath hitches. The kido beneath his trembling palms flickers. With a frustrated grunt, he resumes focusing on the healing her. “I’m almost done.”

“You’re doing great.” Her pained smile says otherwise. Even in times like this, she’s reassuring him, making sure he is okay.

From the distance, a harrowing scream rings out through the air. With it, it brings back the clashing of swords against bone, cries echoing around the battlefield, and howls and animalistic sounds of the Huge Hollows. It’s as if he’d muted the battle until now. Hinamori’s brow furrows, and her gaze sharpens. “No…”

It’s several heartbeats later when Hitsugaya deactivates the kido. It’s not enough, it'll have to do; he should be able to do more. “Come on, let’s heal your leg. You ready?”

He shifts to get closer, wincing as he moves his own injured leg. And the moment he let the sound escape his lips, he curses under his breath.

Her frown deepens.

“Hinamori --”

“Where are you hurt?” she asks, her gaze searching him head to toe.

“It’s nothing, forget about it.”

Her eyes land on his leg and she lets out an alarmed grunt. Hitsugaya can’t help but look too. His sock is bloodied, and the gash he’d received from the Hollow peaks out at the top.

She straightens, peeling her back from the trunk, and moves her uninjured arm towards his ankle. “You should’ve said something!”

“Stop it!”

Her finger sturggles to pull down his sock.

“Hinamori, it’s not serious,” he tries to reassure, but his voice comes out strained. “Your injury is. I’m not the one bleeding out here.”

She shakes her head, and much to his horror, she raises her injured arm with a groan and brings it to his ankle, and it helps to bring his sock down. He thinks to jerk his ankle away, but he fears the sudden movement would startle her and reopen her arm wound.

Hands hover over the wound and she begins to chant.

He grabs her uninjured arm. “Hinamori, stop it, now.”

She ignores him, completing the chant and activating the kido. A fresh wave of pain shoots up his leg, and at his grimace, her frown softens away. “Sorry.”

He can’t work on healing her leg while she’s doing this, not without causing her pain. He lets out a shaky breath. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re hurt.” She says it as if that answered everything.

As soon as the kido spreads out across the gash, his flesh knits over itself rapidly, and the pain is soothed away to a dull ache.

It harshly shakes his head. “You need to focus on yourself, idiot. Use your kido on yourself.”

“I can’t.” The tremor in her voice renders him speechless. “Not while they’re all still out there and you’re in danger, I can’t.”

His heart thuds so hard he hears it in his ears. Battlefield are always chaotic, but even being away from it, he’s lost control of this. “What are you saying?”

She doesn’t speak, only stares at him. It’s one of the rare times he can’t read her expression. “Come on, what?”

She presses her lips tightly for a moment before she speaks. “I don’t want you to fight, but…if you don’t, you’re all in danger.” She lowers her gaze with a whimper. “Why did it have to be like this?”

Still cryptic. He can only conclude she’s concussed, not knowing what she’s saying or doing.

Not even three minutes later, she deactivates the kido and pulls his sock back up. He can’t see how it looks, but there’s still a faint ache. She’s not at the level of Fourth Division, but he can run on his leg without much issue.

“Okay, fine, you’ve healed me. Now come on, your leg!” He’s quick to position his hands over the injury, the beginnings of the kido chant on his tongue.

“You need to go back there.”

That halts him. “What?”

“They need you at the battle.”

Beneath the wet hair plastered to her face, the dirt smudging her face and the bruising forming on her jaw, there’s a grim determination.

“Don’t be a fool,” he mutters.

She winces, but not from the pain of her injuries. “You have to go back and fight, Shiro-chan.”

Hearing the nickname triggers a rush of anger in him. “No!" he snaps. "If we don’t heal these now before Fourth Division get here, the damage might be irreparable. I’m not leaving you!”

“Forget about me, go and help them,” she rasps, bordering on begging. “The fight out there is getting worse, but your bankai can help change the outcome. I don’t want you to go out there and get hurt again but…you have the power to end this. Please, you have to go back there! I’ll be okay.”

“Hinamori, stop this --”

He’s cut off when she suddenly grabs his shoulder and pulls him forward. Too stunned, he barely remembers to keep the wing over her let alone throw out a hand to prop him away from the tree she rests against.

“Remember your duties as a Shinigami," she whispers. "We serve and protect the Seireitei and the Soul Society. We protect our fellow officers in battle, our friends."

The reminder should’ve been like a bucket of cold water dunked over him, but all he can focus on is the blood in the corner of his eye.

He grits his teeth against the tremulous feeling rushing through him. “You weren’t supposed to get involved. Why did you jump in? I had a plan.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Back there, I was…” He can't get the words out. Pathetic.

She takes his free hand in hers. They’re so close that all he sees is her wide, glassy eyes. “Go. They need you…please. Please, Shiro-chan, please.”

His heart stammers. She’s begging him for something. She should never have to do that, not with him. Not for the safety of others.

The sounds of battle reach his ears again. He’s selfish, because in the end, it’s her he wants to protect, and her who he has failed. But she’s counting on him, believing in him as she always has, to protect everyone.

He hardens his expression and withdraws his hand from hers. Standing, he reaches across and dislodges his zanpkauto from the ground. The ice he’d broken off before quickly regrows, engulfing his hands and ending with sharper talons.

It gives him an idea. Warning Hyourinmaru before he raises his weapon, he raises his right arm and hits the area above the wing’s joint with pommel. The ice cracks. Hinamori lets out a startled grunt, but he continues to strike at the ice until the wing breaks off.

"W-What're you...?" She watches him in bewilderment while he manoeuvres the broken off ice to cover her from the rain. A new wing rapidly grows, collecting the falling rain and melding it into the ice to freeze.

He steps back several paces, not looking away from her. He wants to say something, but finds he has no words. He’s simultaneously emboldened and uncertain.

She offers a grateful, strained smile.

Before his resolve can break, he snaps Hyourinmaru’s wings and shoots into the sky. Tree branches rattle and leaves fall in his wake when eh breaks from the treeline into the sky.

High in the air, he twists around in the direction of the battle and with another powerful flap he shoots himself higher into the sky, gliding high above the forest that encompasses the area. From up here, he can tell which direction the Hollows had originally come by the destruction they left in their way. It’s as though a line of the forest had been gauge out, with trees snapped in two or completely uprooted and the earth upturned.

Only a minute later he’s overhead of the battling Hollows and Shinigami. He can’t distinguish which Shinigami belongs to Tenth or Fifth, doesn’t even recognise which one is Rangiku. From this height, they seem so small.

The Hollows, however, have more distinguishin features. He spots the Huge Hollow that had thrown Hinamori away. His grip on Hyourinmaru tightens and his blood simmers in his veins. For all of his conviction in fulfilling her wish, he still puts his own will above it.

I’ll protect her.

He comes overhead of the creature. The rest of battle fades out.

He stops flapping his wings, sharply falling through the sky. Rain and wind whip against him, and it only fuels the growing anger. While in this state, the weather is under his control. With a mere twist of Hyourinmaru, the rain gets thicker and the clouds gather, darkening the area. His reiatsu flashes across his skin in white-blue currents. Against powerful gusts of wind and the forces sending plummeting to the ground, he raises Hyourinmaru. As the features of everyone becomes clearer – the Hollows’ masks, the Shinigami either engaged in battles or the few who, wide-eyed and mouths agape, notice his rapid descent – he lets out a cry. Combined with the howl of the wind, it sounds like a roar.

Most of the Hollows have stopped to look at him. Did they think he was one of them? Has he become monstrous in his fury? It didn’t matter.

He flares Hyourinmaru’s wings out when he’s only several meters from the Huge Hollow who’s struck Hinamori. The creature, realising what’s about to happen, roars and raises it’s oversized hands at the last minute. It’s too late. Hitsugaya stabs Hyourinmaru through the mask, and from it, ice bursts out and rapidly covers it’s grey-purple skin. A cold wave comes from the attack, washing over everyone in the area and shuddering and bending the trees.

The Hollow’s mouth is unhinged wide, stuck in shock. Before it begins to disintegrate, he withdraws Hyourinmaru and kicks off from the creature’s head, landing in the mud.

Hitsugaya’s shoulders heave with each heavy breath, which fogs in the cooling air. He glares at the next Hollow, frozen in place by what it saw. And it wasn’t the only one. Most of them are staring at him, and even some Shinigami are. Eyes wide, lips trembling from either the sudden cold that’d descended over them or from something like shock or confusion.

The Hollows that saw his attack fall into a frenzy, bellowing or snarling, before converging on him all at once. He’s too angry to be afraid, and raises Hyourinmaru against the closest one. He unleashes a flurry of ice, striking the Hollow and sending it crashing back into another.

“Ryusenka!”

Ice erupts from Hyourinmaru and strikes the two Hollows, encasing them before they can cry out. Hitsugaya lunges forward and smashes the ice, breaking to two apart into pieces that disintegrate.

From behind, a hunched over Huge Hollow charges, tusks aiming to gorge him. He swings his zanpakuto around, ready to duck under and cut into it’s underbelly.

There’s a flash of movement to his right, and he almost swings his sword at the figure who’s appear at his side. Rangiku – hair wet and bedraggled, mud smeared on her face and arms, and a thin cut above her brow smudges with dried blood – makes Haineko form a neko rinbu around them. The Huge Hollow, cut from the tiny pieces of blade, stumbles back with a yelp before it and the other Hollows disappear from view.

“What was that?!” she yells over the whirl of Haineko. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“You need to call the Captains and Fourth Division, now!”

“Why?”

“Because we’re about to end this fight!”

A hand, protected by bone-like armour, lunges through the ash cloud. Hitsugaya spins and slashes into the knuckle, breaking through the plating and sending a flurry of ice racing up its arm. The hand vanishes through the ash. At the screams of both Hollows and Shinigami happening beyond, Rangiku winces and dissipates the cloud.

“You’ve got some explaining to do later!” she yells, before leaping to cut the clawed hand hauling up a badly injured Shinigami.

After that, the battle is a blur. He is not like those in Eleventh Division, prompt to losing themselves in bloodlust, but his strikes are fierce and quick, and regardless of the combat between a Hollow and Shinigami, he intervenes, cutting through mask after mask after mask.

His blood boils, and he feels his face contort into an unrecognisable, furious shape. It doesn’t come entirely from the hatred for the creature he’d slain before. No, he’s angry at himself. At his failure to heal Hinamori, to prevent harm coming to her. He’s angry that their lives are like, filled with danger he can’t always protect her from.

After he cuts down a spider-like Hollow, Hitsugaya spins around, ready for the next, only to see there are none. The Shinigami, whether they’re standing or trying to prop themselves up from the mud, struggle to catch their breaths and look around. The forest had been full of Huge Hollows breaking through the trees, their stampede shaking the ground and their animalistic cries tearing through the air above the rain. Now, everything is still and silent save for the torrential rain.

As if most come to some realization at the same time, many turn to look at him. Fraught emotions tumbling within him still under the scrutiny of his fellow Tenth Division members and those in Fifth. Some look at him in confusion – likely not knowing he had achieved bankai – a few in concern, and the rest in either awe or wariness.

He’s breathing too hard, his limbs shake so fiercely from the adrenaline and harsh beating of his heart. The rain cools his skin. It’s the latter that makes him straighten, and with a silent command to Hyourinmaru, the rain lessens, returning to how it is meant to be.

Above his head, he only has one ice petal left. He withholds a cringe. In such short time he'd overexerted his powers. After a long, quiet breath out, he deactivates his bankai and sheathes Hyourinmaru across his back. It sends out a cold pulse, ruffling the uniforms and hair of those standing near him and disturbing the rainfall for a second.

“I’ve called for Fourth Division!” Rangiku yells from somewhere behind him, making everyone turn their attention to her. He stares at the ground as she continues, “They’ll be here soon, along with Captain Ishiin and Captain Aizen! For anyone without injury, we need to get the injured into the shade and start healing them, now!”

Hinamori.

He snaps out of his stupor and runs between rushing Shinigami.

As soon as he sees her, he shouts, “Matsumoto!”

She looks over her shoulder, then fully turns once he’s close. “Don’t think I didn’t see your ankle before, you need to –”

“Hinamori isn’t here!” He points in the direction he’d come flying from. “She’s badly wounded, she needs help, now!

Rangiku’s eyes widened. “No wonder I couldn’t find her,” she mutters to herself. Then, while running with him in Hinamori’s direction, she asks, “What kind of injuries?”

“Her arm and leg. She can’t walk, and I’m certain she’s concussed.”

Rangiku swears and wipes the hair from her face. She searches for any Shinigami still standing around. At the sight of one officer from their division and another Hitsugaya didn’t know, she calls out to them. “If you haven't got anyone to help, come with me right now!”

They sprint over and fall into line behind them. Hitsugaya casts out his sense. Hinamori's reiatsu flickers from her injuries.

"You sense her too?" he asks Rangiku.

"Yeah, she's not far from here."

“We’ll also need to retrieve her zanpakuto. Tobiume is under the bushes in that same direction, just look for her hilt.”

Rangiku nods. “We'll take care of it.

“What? No, I – ”

“Your ankle will get worse. Stay here, Fourth will arrive shortly.”

“I --”

“That’s an order!”

He’s stunned by her authoritative air. He knows she’s capable of it, but she rarely uses it on him. That isn’t what causes him to slow his run and then come to a stop. It’s the way her eyes soften with knowingness.

He stands at the edge of the tree line, watching Rangiku and the other two Shinigami until they’re out of sight and the flora they’d disturbed stops swaying. After taking down as many Hollows as he did, ending the battle quicker in the Seireitei’s favor, he can't if it's exhaustion or the sense of helplessness that makes him sag against a tree .

At some point he raises his hand and simply watches the rain collect then pool in the center of his palm. He stares at his reflection, colorless and broke apart by raindrops. In an instant he's nothing more than swirling, wavy lines, but they bounce back form him, only a drop to hit and ripple. At times he is nothing but warped lines, and in an instant, he's reformed only for a drop of water to hit and ripple.

It's several minutes later when three whole squads of Fourth Division medics arrive. Most go to the severely wounded first, then rest approach others with minor injuries.

He stumbles away from the tree and waits. Eventually two medics come to him. He only speaks when he needs to, answer their question before they begin treatment. His ankle is as good as new five minutes later. At the comment from one of the Fourth Division Shinigami about how the healing on it was good before they tended to him, he hurriedly walks away without thanking them.

He searches for Hinamori. He hadn't seen Rangiku and the officers come out of the forest, but he can hear the lieutenant's voice echo from somewhere in the area. Around him, uninjured and healed quietly gather and speak to each other, comforting each other or relishing their victory. Those receiving treatment remain in the shades of trees, but some are on stretchers being carried away. He pauses at the sight of a medic placing a spare shihakusho over the face and chest of someone on stretcher. He doesn’t recognize the Shinigami, which meant it’s likely someone from Fifth Division. Had the officer passed before or during his return to battle?

He shoves the thought aside and staggers onward. In the chaos, death is inevitable in battle, they all know that. Somehow, it doesn’t stop the pang that comes with losing a fellow Shinigami, even one he didn't know.

It’s not long before he finds Hinamori when he left her. She lies on a stretcher next to what little remains of Hyourinmaru's wing. She's her hooded eyes look between the two Fourth Division members tending to her. Aizen is kneeling at her side and speaking to her with his back turned to Hitsugaya. He feels a modicum of relief that Tobiume is at her side; Rangiku must have found the weapon.

Several meters behind him, there's a few Shinigami who were carried to be under shelter being tended to as well. He feels a few stares at his back, but he ignores them.

He keeps his distance, observing one medic finishing bandages her arm, while the other continues to cast healing kido over her leg. She shouldn’t be there. She should be standing like so many others here, lifting the spirits of those who lost a comrade today or have witnessed a horrific battle like this one was for the first time.

“You did remarkably well.”

Hitsugaya isn’t startled by Aizen, who has left Hinamori’s side and approaches him. If this were any other situation, he might have thought it funny to see him this drenched and his hakama muddied.

“Without you, I'm certain we would’ve had more causalities,” Aizen continues. “I’ll be sure to tell Captain Shiiba what your efforts did today once he gets here. From what my officers have told me, your bankai is something to be admired, Hitsugaya-kun.”

He sniffs and looks past the captain back to Hinamori. “I’m still training.”

“There’s always room for improvement, but this victory today is thanks to your abilities.” Aizen follows his gaze, and after a beat, offers in the way of sympathy, “I know it’s hard seeing Hinamori-kun like this, but you know she’ll pull through. She’s always been strong, nothing ever holds her back or brings her down.”

That softens him, because it’s the first thing the captain has said today that Hitsugaya agrees with. She’s strong enough to be a lieutenant. She was strong enough to remain his friend, to stand by him when the world and he himself tried to tell her otherwise, even when the enormity of his power became obvious to her.

She’s strong enough to ask him to fight for others when she needed the help and protection the most. She had the strength to see all of these Shinigami as important to her. Everyone, except herself.

“From what she told me about what happened," Aizen continues, "if it weren’t for you, I’m certain her injuries would’ve been worse.”

Hitsugaya manages to not double over but he can’t withhold a grimace.

Aizen frowns at his reaction. “I apologise. Did I say something wrong?”

Hitsugaya stiffly shakes his head but refuses to look at the captain.

"If you're sure." Aizen shifts, half turning away. “I’m sure you’ll discuss today with Captain Shiiba. However, my door is open to you and Lieutenant Matsumoto if you need another set of ears.” He bows his head. “I’ll leave you be. Take care.”

Hitsugaya brows furrow when instead of walking past him, the captain approaches the Fourth Division members, speaking with them for a minute, before they bow to him and move on to the next patient behind him. Aizen gives Hitsugaya a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he leaves.

It occurs to Hitsugaya once the captain is out of his sight, aside from Shinigami being healed behind him, he and Hinamori are alone. He doesn’t fight the compulsion to go and kneel at her side. She’d been staring ahead until he comes into her peripheral. Most of the blood and dirt has been wiped away, but her skin is too pale. He can’t judge whether the haziness in her eyes is from the concussion, something the medics gave her to ease the pain, or exhaustion. Still, there’s a flicker of recognition as her gaze takes in his face.

Her lips part to say something, but nothing comes out. Her chest heaves with a shuddering breath that's dangerously close to a sob.

Without thinking, he takes her good hand between his two own. “I did it, just like you asked.” He loathes the vulnerability in his words, but he only said them because he wants her to be happy.

She blinks slowly, taking in his words. The corners of her eyes moisten. Again she tries to speak, “I’m…sor…”.

He bites the inside of cheek hard. Why is she trying to apologize?

“You don’t have to talk. You’re going to be okay,” he says, more as reassurance to himself. “Everyone’s okay now, we’re safe.”

His words aren’t true. What of that Shinigami who passed away? He can’t have been the only one.

He bows his head. "It shouldn't have been like this. I thought I was outsmarting them, but I ended up getting you hurt."

She swallows, takes in a long breath. His words don't sink in immediately, but when they do, she weakly shakes her head. "No. I'm sorry I...I shouldn't have --"

"Hinamori--"

"--asked you to..." Twitchingly, the corners of lips rise. “But I...knew you could do it. You're incredible, Shiro-chan. Truly.”

He lets out a strangled grunt before bowing over her, his forehead coming to rest on hers. Her smile widens, and she softly shuts her eyes. He closes his own, to try and calm his racing heart and to shut out any onlookers. He’s certain they’d deem his reaction overwrought, especially considering she isn't dying from her injuries. But they don’t know he’s reason she’s hurt, or that without her, he’d have no bankai.

Why did it have to be like this? This isn’t how their lives were meant to go. But what did he expect? The life of a Shinigami is fraught with danger. They have a duty to protect the Soul Society, to lay their lives on the line if need be for it and each other. Why should that have to apply to her?

Without her, his life would be so different. It had come with bad memories, but more than that, it’s come with ones that gave him hope when there hadn’t been any, and she had done so with only her words and kindness. The world needs her, more than it needs him.

He can’t let this happen again, because what good is having this power if he can't protect her from threats or his own foolishness? His prodigal status is something others revere, something coveted by the Seireitei and rare among Shinigami, to the point of loneliness for those that harness it. He should be able to fight like no other, and yet she's still here, still trying to protect him in battle. She shouldn’t be, not after everything she’s already done for him. Not when he has the strength and power to do the same.

I won’t let you get hurt ever again. He opens his eyes, and hers remain closed as he leans back. I’ll get stronger so that I can always protect you.

It feels like a vow, seared into his very being, one that he can never revoke even if he wanted to. One he will never speak aloud to her or anyone else. It’s for him and him alone to carry.

His hold on her hand tightens. When she squeezes it back, his heart clenches. Slowly, she opens her eyes, and he stares at his reflection in them. It doesn’t ripple and warp like the one in the water. He isn't colorless, shaded by the brown of her irises. It’s him, bloodied and sodden. No longer a child, but not an adult either. A Shinigami, gifted with a power few will ever have across the centuries. A power she helped bring forth without ever knowing, and one that will be wielded to ensure her happiness.

______________________

AN: I never do author's notes at the end of a fic, but for this one I felt I needed to.

I have to admit, I got pretty emotional writing this one, and I think it shows ^^; I don't know why though, because I've written far more angsty fics before this one. Maybe it's because of the song that contributed to it's inspiration, or maybe it was because I was feeling down at the time of writing it (I'm feeling better now though). I don't know...

I still hope you all enjoyed it.

I ended up putting Hitsugaya in difficult scenario. Not only did he feel he needed to choose between Hinamori and the other Shinigami, but that he'd come up with a plan and feels responsible for Hinamori getting hurt even though he couldn't have foresaw her involvement.

I feel like while trying to figure his bankai out, Hitsugaya would experiment with what tactics he uses in battle and how he can control his powers, and he's also figuring out just how much his sense of duty means to him. He's serious about his role as a Shinigami, but when he's faced with someone he cares about getting harmed, that goes out the window in furious fashion; similar to how he is by the time of the main story, but lacking the better control and resolve he has by that point -- for instance, I think a younger, less experienced Hitsugaya would've abandoned his fight with Harribel after Hinamori got injured by Ayon to go help her. And he's still coming to terms with being a Shinigami, and with Hinamori also being one. It's a dangerous path for both of them, and they went into it for different (but some similar in a way) reasons.

While writing for this aspect in particular, I thought there might be a tragic element to their bond and particular traits even before they were put under the strain of Aizen's betrayal. Hitsugaya cares about others, but there's only a select few he feels close to, and if any of them are harmed or killed, it has the potential to make him abandon everything he's built for himself. Hinamori cares about more people, but it also means she has more people to worry about or lose in times of crisis. Their bond is precious for these reasons, but also tenuous because they've nearly lost each other way too many times. That Hinamori could ask Hitsugaya to do anything and that there's likely very little he would not do for her out his care and will to protect her, even if it means harm coming to himself physically, emotionally, or to everything he has built for himself. It comes from a lack of maturity to a great extent, I think, which is why he is quick to anger in the main series when Aizen antagonizes him about Hinamori.

Still, because Hinamori cares as deeply as does for as many people as she does, even when she loses someone or goes through a hard time, there will always be someone there for her and she can be there for them if they need her, whether it's Izuru and Renji being her Academy buddies, Shinji and Rangiku there to help her after Aizen betrayal, or Hitsugaya in this fic being by her side while she's recovering from an injury. For Hitsugaya, having those few people who he deeply cares about and who care about him in return is his motivation to get stronger, to be greater than what or who he thinks he is. He's chosen to let Hinamori in as close as he has, and it comes with it's benefits and drawbacks. And how could he not? She was one of the few who cared for him when only his Granny did. One of the few who has been a constant in his life. She accepted him whole-heartedly, and he in turn didn't see her strong will to see the good in others and willingness to help as weaknesses like some would.

He would do anything for her because he deeply cares, but I think he also sees the goodness she brings those around her and believes the world needs more people like her. He doesn't see that in himself, instead focusing on his powers and ability to protect her and others -- things I think were put at the forefront of his mind by his Academy lecturers and senior Shinigami noting his prodigal status and also by his low self esteem from his struggles in the Junrinan.

But Hinamori does see in him the very same qualities he sees in her as well as his powers and fighting talents. In this fic, she trusts him with fighting for everyone, and in a better state of mind, I don't think she would ask him to do what he did here (or when pleading for him to save Aizen in the main series). Then again, she may have asked him due to the duties of a Shinigami and trusting and believing in Hitsugaya's abilities. But even when everyone is safe, she still felt the need to apologize, even when she knew he could win and believed in him.

In the end, Hitsugaya doesn't care about having these powers for the sake of fighting or status. He cares about the people he cares for, and will use the powers he has to protect them. Even with her admiration for Aizen blinding her to who he is and making her focus on working at his side, Hinamori has a strong sense of duty and care towards those she fights alongside, whether they're strangers or her friends. She believes in Hitsugaya, in his abilities and his goodness as a person. It's why she smiles when they touch foreheads, in relief that he's safe and in knowing he cares. In her eyes, he doesn't need to change, he the stable constant for most of her life. but Hitsugaya didn't see that; he saw what he thought he needed to become.

I hope I was able to convey all of this.

I know as a fan of something there's a tendency to over-read into the smallest things, and in this case maybe that's what I've done, but while writing this fic, I couldn't help but feel and think about all of these aspects. I see the potentials from the bread crumbs we got in the main series and I always want to explore them.

If you've made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my fic and this author's note, I sincerely appreciate it.

#hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #two weeks of hitsuhina 2024 #bleach #fanfiction #angst #I also had a completely different ending for this fic #I was conflicted right up to the last minute about which ending I should go with #I might post it #I was also conflicted on the title #kept think if it should be 'In Your Eye in the Rain'#or what I went with because I wanted to include the ice too #and yes what Aizen said was deliberate #he knew what he saying there before he left

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threadmonster · 9 months ago

Text

Concept:

It's May 4th and Shinra has been talking about his plans to marathon Star Wars with Celty. He isn't particularly interested in the series but Celty is intrigued by aliens and all. Izaya is annoyed. Of course Shinra, as usual, only cares about Celty. It still makes him feel gloomy though, it's not like Shinra ever forgot his birthday before.

He gets even more annoyed when Shinra calls him for a favor. Why should he care if Shinra forgot a few things at the store? But it's fine, whatever, it's not like he has anything better to do. Even his own sisters didn't bother to send him his birthday death threat.

Shinra told him to let himself in. He doesn't know why all the lights are off. He huffs and turns them on all just to be bombarded by a chaotic mess of "Happy Birthday" wishes and a camera flash in his face.

He doesn't know what to say or how to react. He sees Shinra, Celty, his sisters, Kyohei and the van gang, Simon was there. He wants to get mad, how dare he be fooled like this. In truth, he doesn't even know how to feel about it.

You see, his self-worth is so low that he can't understand, people do care about him.

#{domino talks}#durarara #izaya orihara #i have posts about izaya's self worth based off the spin off novels #also i think even if people can agree “ikebukuro is better without izaya” and he doesn't seem missed at all (cite: SH)#they probably still care #...despite him ending up in the hospital and no one cared then #look i could have made a sad birthday post but i decided to go a little fluffy #also the twins definitely send death threats for his birthday just try to change my mind #shizuo was invited but he didn't know whether he should go or not #if they were trying to do something nice for the flea then he'd just ruin it anyway #it's better if he doesn't get involved #this is an au where Shizaya aren't complete enemies #they just think “he hates me so what's the point of trying to change anything” basically #the whole “if under different circumstances could they be friends” thing #maybe shizuo has a saved draft that he's hesitant to send “happy birthday flea”#idk what if i had motivation to make this into a fic? that'd be cool?#i feel like this would be his 19th birthday? idk 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

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prince-liest · 11 months ago

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oh my god…. prince……. you can’t do this to me. you’re saying next fic has vox getting fucked, focuses on vox’s transness (AH), AND ALSO HES ON THE OFF SEE SAW OF HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH VAL?????? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL MEE?!!?!!????? I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY COMBUST. and bc another anon asked abt how alastor views the violence in voxval’s relationship, i have Another thought on the matter. as much as alastor looks down on vox, they can be Very similar sometimes. they are both egomaniacs and very prideful. i don’t think vox, without outside interference, would ever ADMIT that the violence he faces is 1) something he truly hates AND 2) out of his control. he can’t admit he hates it, because then why isn’t he stopping it? that would be admitting to not being powerful enough or strong enough. and hello, 50’s toxic masculinity coming through, he CANT be a victim of domestic violence. he’s a powerful, rich, and important man. it all comes down to perceived weakness. so, the solution is to pretend he’s mostly fine with it. sure, he can act disgruntled and upset in the moment, but i don’t think he’d ever let himself take it seriously. because then he has to start drawing lines in the sand, and what happens then? will val look down on him? will he lose val? yeah, he is not risking that over a problem he mostly refuses to acknowledge exists. and as you said, this is all happening in the setting of hell, where ultra violence IS the norm, and vox himself is excessively violent. it’s the most delicious 50 layer cake of fucked up-ness.

RANT ASIDE THO. i have a question. 2. do you ever plan on having vox interact with the hotel crew outside of angel? ANDDDD what would charlie’s reaction be to their friendship/situationship/ kinda love affair. i think she could add SOOOOO much hilarity and Intense Emotions to this series. not that the boys haven’t been doing their part in that so far. charlie just intensifies everything she does, god bless her. -🌓

The "getting fucked" bit and the trans conversation bit are directly related to and relevant to each other, and frankly I'm just very happy to be out here writing the specific flavors of deeply queer shenanigans that I'm writing, and to have people actively enjoy that. It genuinely means a lot to me that I've strayed so goddamn far out of the bounds of good old top/bottom yaoi archetypes that introduced me to fandom and yet have a wildly enthusiastic audience nonetheless. So, that was my long way of saying that you bring me a lot of fucking joy, anon, hahaha.

As for everything you're saying about Vox, power, and masculinity: YOU! points dramatically at you YOU GET IT! YOU GET IT!!!!!! Everyone just read this, this is it, this is the thing. I have no notes to add. There is a reason that the main point he raises the moment he actually says something vulnerable about it (before he immediately cuts himself off) is a complaint that he's an overlord, so why—?

And with regards to your questions: I'm not gonna lie, my actual planning for 666 is usually, like, extremely by the seat of my pants. I plan nothing except, "Oh, shit, had an idea for the next one. Lesgoooo—" and that's been the case for literally every single installment. It's all just been evolving naturally and building on top of itself. So! I can't say that I plan to have Vox interact with the hotel crew or Charlie, but I also will never say that I'm actively opposed to it.

That said, I do think a lot of this fic is kinda structured around hitting specific topics that come up in intimate settings between Vox and Alastor specifically, with occasional tag-ins from Angel Dust, so I don't really know if there's anything in particular I'd like to write that I think would work better in this series if more characters got involved. But, hey! Never say never!

#ask #personal #half moon anon #long post #hazbin hotel #radiostatic #666 live on air #I do agree with you I adore Charlie and in particular I adore her weird relationship with Alastor #actually before I decided to not make this COMPLETELY unhealthy I had a very very different idea for how to write the rut fic #involving basically Alastor getting pressured and also compulsory allonormativity-ing himself into having sex with Vox #and THAT outline DID involve abso-fucking-lutely everybody sticking their noses into the situation in deep deep alarm #Charlie Angel Husk and even fucking Lucifer showed up #but uh that was also the version of this series that ended with the radiostatic relationship pretty well nuked so #ended up NOT writing the “bad end” edition LOL #maybe one day I'll write it as an AU or something when I feel like upsetting absolutely everyone including myself #my writing #nsft

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juliareed · 6 months ago

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Fandom: Alias Relationships: Sark/Sydney Song: Spiracle by Flower Face Content warnings: Blood, death, violence, spiders, insects, flashing lights

#aliasedit #alias #sydney bristow #julian sark #sark x sydney #ssplus #fanvid #myedit #s/s dares to ask a question #what if your mother created a killing machine and that machine was obsessed with you BECAUSE it's your mother who made him.#like it's a part of his code your mother designed. or not code - but because he learned everything about the world by watching her.#like the only kind of humanity your mother allowed him - the only kind of humanity left after she was done with him - was this.#because it's the only kind of humanity she allowed to herself.#to not ever be completely sure if your mother ever loved you and then learn something like this?#what if your mother's killing machine grew up hearing stories about you.#what if your mother's killing machine looked up to you as a child and wanted to make your mother proud just like you did.#what if your mother's killing machine learned about your existence a full decade before the two of you met.#what if your mother's killing machine was conditioned to love you.#what if your mother on purpose designed her killing machine to be flawed. to have a weakness that shouldn't be there.#from her words all to protect you. and what if one day her plan backfired.#what if one day your mother's killing machine turned against your mother for you. turned against his creator for you.#what if your mother's secret plan worked A LITTLE BIT TOO WELL and she lost control over you both. what then. literally what then!!!!!!!#also i don't think we talk enough about that scene in conscious where in sydney's dream jack turns into sark's father.#what if i dreamed my father was your father. what if you said my mother was like your mother. what exactly does that make us.#and what if we also shared a name. what if a part of me - the part i feared the most - had your name.#while working on this realized also that i want a fic where every day for months sydney sees a ghost of someone sark killed.#it's always someone different. and at some point it starts to feel like it's never going to end.#the ghosts will be right there with her for the rest of her life. as always i just want #some sydney introspection and sydney grappling with the idea that her own mother turned a human being into THIS.#which goes along with facing the fact that it could have been her on his place.

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cheswirls · 6 months ago

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magi rambling

idk it jus hit me out of nowhere how much i love magi fic and how sinja is portrayed in such. imo THEEEE best magi fic of all time is works cowritten by galiko and daphnerunning, those two were genuinely on galaxy brain mega dimension level thinking full time, but like less abt magi meta as a whole and more on how the characters are so true to themselves and their flaws

it's been so long that in not gonna be able to remember who all did it but i def remember all of galiko's sinja fic that also portrayed sinbad/judal to some extent, that it was made very clear in the text how differently and on different footing both relationships stood. judal especially in their hands was written so well in a way that changed how i viewed the character in canon to some extent and in every other piece of fictional media. like how can you write someone so pathetic and deceptive and a bastard and it's all perfectly in character

I've never been into sin/ju and i don't think i ever read anything w them in fic seriously or w/o skimming but i did sit thru enough to know how the galiko/daphne pair brought them forth and made it very wanton-ly obvious that sin is always just manipulating judal and leading him on to get what he wants at the end of it all, but in contrast, it's clear that he so deeply loves ja'far in ways mere words cannot express

to see the relationship dynamics compared and contrasted in fic was always such a treat because sin treats almost everyone like they're a stepping stone used to further his own objectives, but then he treats his advisor like a genuine person. shows real care and concern, becomes inconsolable when ja'far is hurt, refuses to quell his rage for any reason when someone has wronged ja'far. his advisor truly is his precious person that he can strip down out of his title as king and just be sinbad around.

and this is even further glorified when ja'f knows but insists he doesn't!!! playa it off bc sin is king and this is uncouth!!! only to have such moments of weakness when anything goes terribly wrong and he's suddenly on the brink of death, terrified of leaving sin behind all alone, letting himself have just as long as it takes to recover the bare minimum amount to bask in sin's unending devotion. they truly do treat each other differently in canon and otherwise and it's so gratifying to see and realize each time as someone who loves sinja so dearly

#there's was one specific fic scene i had in my head for this all #but i think i am thinking also of another scene from a completely different fic #and am trying to make them the same fic somehow??? maybe one is a sequel and they're the same au verse #anyway the first is undoubtedly when ja'f takes on al thamen and comes back in a coma #and it's actually a pov judal scene where he witnesses sinbad again at his mere advisor's bedside #and even if he knew before it finally clicks in his heart that oh this is the one person sin truly cares for #and he storms off in a huff to aladdin to sulk over it #the second is i think either an entirely different fic or the prequel to the other one!#where near the end ja'f sacrifices his rukh in a hail mary to end kouen's siege on sindria #loses i think either one or both legs in the process of absorbing baal's magic to use sinbad's vessel #doesn't even work and kouen ends up inflicting /another/ mortal wound that's not y'know the missing legsssss #and right before he can die for real sinbad shows up and immediately takes stock of the situation #doesn't even hesitate to kill kouen in THE most gruesome act of violence i have ever seen in a piece of fiction EVER #and then with the threat neutralized he just picks ja'f up and cradles him in his arms #and ja'f truly breaks down at this point bc he's gone thru SOOOO MUCH to fight on his own #bc he never once doubted sin was still alive but everyone else around him slowly but surely gave up hope #and he can't help full on sobbing mind break bc sin is here now and it's all over now #and AGAIN it's the judal pov where he clocks it as #'oh these two are so completely devoted to each other and each other alone and no one else even compares'#anyway hiiii i am unwell once again thinking abt superbly written sinja in fanfic #edit; oh guess what it WAS the same fic for both #it's just that that fic is 230K LONG so yea ofc there's room for both to happen

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aparticularbandit · 7 days ago

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so i'm rereading anne of green gables because it's been a while since i read it and i didn't want to start my other new books and i'm still holding off on continuing my lotr reading because silmarillion february.

i remember really like anne of green gables when i was younger. and i remember seeing at least some of the old television show. (vaguely i remember this.) but i don't remember a lot of the book. some bits here and there - gilbert being a jerk and diana and when anne tried to dye her hair black and ended up dying it green. (and what happens with matthew.)

but i'm rereading it and. like.

that's ryoko. that's how i write ryoko. chatterbox with hope and imagination who keeps naming things different names because their normal ones don't fit. also redhead who wears her hair in braid(s) - anne uses two, but like. the point stands.

now. they are entirely different characters for a lot of reasons. but apparently i drew on an old, old well to bring up anne and put her into ryoko.

#musings #bandit #bandt writes fic #dr1 end rewrite fic #now anne is a lot more ....#i don't know how to put it #anne is more of a free spirit than ryoko is #ryoko still has bits of dory in her and probably always will because dr0 is literally danganronpa!dory the protagonist #it just is #and anne's not ultimate analysis by any means #they're totally different characters #but i can see a lot of anne in how i write ryoko #that i didn't know was there #also in the first chapter one of the characters gets surprised and the narrative just 'she had to think in exclamation marks' and #what a GREAT line #XD #meanwhile whenever 'ejaculated' gets used instead of 'exclaimed' or 'said' i #just #/nope/#i don't think i realized this took place in canada #like i must have known at some point #and then completely forgot #maybe when i'm done with this i'll revisit mandy #hm

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scrawnytreedemon · 1 year ago

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Is it so bad that I don't really like ships of characters I simp and I only like the reader insert fics with them?

Yeah I can't deny I'm jealous of the canon x canon ships with my faves, knowing that they possibly can be together while I can't. I know it's dumb,so that's why I never hate on someone who likes those ships I just ignore it

Like Sefikura for example, I don't like it cuz I'm a massive hoe for Sephiroth,also bcuz sometimes they make the ship pretty icky,also bcuz Cloud is baby and I'm still angy at Sephy for mentally torturing my Babyboy like that

IT'S CHAOS WITH MY FICTIONAL FAVES!!!!!!

Nothing wrong with that, personally! I get wanting to indulge in the warmth of a good fantasy-- That is what alot of fiction is for, after all.

Bless you, anon. Alas, as someone also plagued with my own Dumb and Horrid Fictional Feelings, the brain can be such a little bitch when it comes to that stuff. Good on you for recognising how and why you feel that way, ignoring the stuff you don't like and focusing on what you do.

LMAO I get that completely. I should mention, though, that I am one of those people who indulges in the nastier side of the ship, lmaooo. Even so, I get why it wouldn't click with you.

(FR when is it not?)

#scrawny rambles #scrawny answers #ty for your letter anon <3 #completely different tangent aside from yours #very introspective stuff ahead feel free to ignore you know the deal #i have alot of respect for selfshippers #considering my sisters kicked me out of the habit very early on and i've been Mortified ever since #but man... i think if i want an reader!fic i can jive with i'd have to write my own #once again no shade to the writers you guys keep living it up #but alot of it ends up being 'i would NOT say that' for mehgkjfgdjh #GOD i remember this ghirahimxreader fic i read ages ago #and at some point y/n's parents show up as yiga #and i'm like. what father. I HAVE NO FATHER. or i have two. it fucking depends. both absent either way.#POINT IS i think there are alot of ways my life and cultural experiences differ that if anything makes it *harder* for me to be immersed #also the Shame. but i think that can be overcome. spite my siblings lmaooo.#again anon entirely different thread from yours #just plopping some thoughts here i've had for awhile

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elvenbeard · 2 years ago

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Without any context whatsover (except for the fic I'm currently writing): love is stored in the olive jar.

#otp: to bad decisions #cause you know... reasons #had kerry not done xyz #vince wouldn't have done xyz #and then everything would have been completely different #fucking olive jar turning into the main reason why they're getting their happy ending smh #in this fic at least #yes I'm 100% serious #they're called 'to bad decisions' for a reason #writing stuff #also yes I'm losing my mind about my own writing sssshhh #I'm excited how this is developing is all xD cause I didn't see it coming either

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playingplayer2 · 2 months ago

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For being arachnophobic I find spider-esque traits unfortunately attractive.

#staring woefully at a fic where one of my favourite characters ended up w/ a spider mutation and suddenly became infinitely hotter #sobbing AGAIN bc of a different fic with another character (completely different fandom) being based off of jorōgumo #dramatically sobbing into my pillows at the description of a spider monster based off of a jorōgumo in a fic i read bc she sounded hot #also me #screeching and jumping back when i see a spider but also doinb my damnedest to not kill the poir thing cos it's just tring to survive #(i am also scared of frogs and toads bc ... theyre so SMOL what if i accidentally hurt it?)#(but actually i have really bad reactions to spider bites and for some reason spiders will just fucking bite me for no fucking reason.#dropped down from my ceiling? BITTEN. crawls onto me when i'm outside? BITTEN. like bruh what did i DO?!)#spiders #but also spider genuinely freak me out. i say. as tho i havent had one sided arguments with a spider in the corner of my room before

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xviruserrorx · 11 months ago

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Nothing like having to rework a 15k fic because you realize the story would tell better in a different pov 🫠

#im fine really im just... great #i've already been rewriting this fic but then i had an epiphany the other night and ugjddbjsbxjdhdjc #this is my make or break moment for this fic #because if i change pov then 1.) it flows much better with chapter 2 like a lot better #and 2.) i can backtrack a bit and add in more before the main bit and add that little tibit i cane up with the other night #BUT then 1.) i will have to cut some parts that dont have the new character in them which #kinda makes sense because they focus on the other character's relationship with a different character but this story ain't about them #but also 2.) adding the little tibit might completely change the whole entire story from this one little thing #but but but!!!! it makes the main two characters so much compelling/interesting because now theres another factor #in their relationship that was out of their control and happened way before they got tied up in each kther with sero stakes #just!!!!!!!! ishdisbdjdnjdhxjdjddjdjdj #this is what happens when your consistently writing a fic for almost 4 years...#its the Ingenuous because what other fic would it be honestly this fic makes me so unwell #i have put my ALL into this fic and i mean ive broken myself down into this fic and its a monster of something so i dont even know #ive written so many lines that i genuinely have to put everything down and stare at the wall for a while #im so close #im so close to something of an ending and yet im still far away from everything in-between #the Ingenuous #the fic that haunts me and i let it #virus rambling

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darkmatilda · 20 days ago

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𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your relationship is still very new, and you're getting ready to tell the rest of the team about it. in the meantime, you find yourselves again in another unusual hotel...where suddenly spencer starts acting very strangely?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses spencer reid x newbau!female!reader, fluff, intimacy conversation, spender being adorably shy

𝐚/𝐧: 'matilda how many more times are you gonna write that one bed trope' AS MUCH AS I CAN TILL I DIE btw i wrote this fic over a pretty long period of time, had a main idea (supposedly), but in the end i'm not happy with how it turned out—kinda all over the place. anyway, enjoy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.8k

"My five dollars"

Spencer sighed and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the slightly crumpled bill. You closed it in your hand, a triumphant smile on your face.

"Let's make bets more often, darling," you suggested.

When you used that nickname, his gaze briefly flickered over your face, as if studying whether it had been said purely in jest.

"You’re puffing up like you just invented the wheel," he said, gently shaking his head from side to side. "And just to remind you, all you did was park parallel."

"Parked parallel, indeed. And my coffee?"

He also handed you the paper cup he’d been holding while you performed those incredibly complicated car maneuvers that the bet was about. It was morning, the first day back at work. January, the first days of the new year. You had just arrived at the office parking lot in your car, after spending the night at your place. Everything around you still seemed to smell of that melancholic blend of the past mixed with the fresh scent of the coming months. And coffee, bought at the café on the way.

You took a tiny sip of the hot drink. Spencer, it seemed, hadn’t touched his even once. Both of you, consciously or not, were stretching out the moment just a little longer. And, truth be told, you could afford to. The parking lot around you was only beginning to fill with cars, suggesting the early hour. It was nice to sit there together, sharing the quiet without any discomfort.

You realized this was supposed to be your first day at work as a couple.

A warm, pleasant feeling spread through you at the sound of that word, even though you hadn’t said it out loud. It still felt a little unreal. You had grown closer during the New Year’s Eve party at your place. It was only after that shared—and not just one—kiss that a new perspective dawned on you about the past months of your relationship, revealing some undefined emotions.

"I was wondering..." Spender suddenly began, his brows furrowed slightly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

His gaze suddenly fell on his watch.

"We still have some time," you reassured him calmly. "Let me guess. You've been wondering what would happen if we crossed the DNA of a jellyfish that can reverse its life cycle with the human genome?"

A small smile flickered across his face, a touch of affection despite the rather serious expression on the rest of his face.

"That too," he admitted, nodding. Then he opened his mouth, with some visible hesitation, as if a particular question was troubling him. You shifted in the driver's seat, preparing for whatever he wanted to discuss, whatever he wanted to ask. "How...how are we supposed to act...you know, towards each other? At work?"

For a moment, your brain didn’t understand what he meant. But then, a fleeting oh escaped you as the meaning of his words sank in, and you realized that it was indeed something worth considering. Somehow, over the past few days, neither of you had brought it up. You had just gone back to work, without any reflection on the fact that none of your colleagues knew about the progress in your relationship. About how it had suddenly taken a step to a completely different level.

Spencer studied your face in silence, waiting for a response. As he looked at you, coming up with a logical solution became incredibly difficult. Before you finally said anything, you let out two half-intelligent mutters, like a fish thrown onto the surface.

"We have to tell them," you finally said, stating the obvious. "Somehow. Maybe...we can meet at my place this weekend. All of us. Or we could go out somewhere, and then tell them calmly."

"This weekend?" Spencer repeated cautiously.

It was Monday.

Suddenly, it became incredibly hard to read the expression on his face. He was facing you, his brows slightly furrowed, a look of uncertainty, almost withdrawal. The air inside your car thickened, making the silence even more palpable. He seemed almost concerned, downcast. You froze, wondering if you had really said something wrong.

"So until then," he started more quietly, "are we just supposed to hide it from them?"

“I'm not sure hide is the right word," you replied with a grimace. "I just...I meant, maybe we should wait. For a better moment, you know? Instead of walking into the office on the first Monday of the year, when half the people are still nursing hangovers, and saying hey, guess what? we hooked up!”

His expression hadn't changed, despite your pretty honest explanation.

"You don't like the idea," you stated, rather than asking. You made sure your voice sounded gentle, adjusting it to the situation. "I can see that, Spencer."

"Okay, you're right, I don't like it," he admitted with a sudden coolness, his lips tightening slightly between sentences. "Because...I don't get your reasoning. Or, maybe I just don’t know if this is really what you mean."

Slightly surprised, you shook your head.

"What else could I—"

"I don’t know if it's really about that, or maybe..." he cut off, looking into your eyes as if hoping you'd understand by now. But you didn't have the skill to read his mind, no matter how remarkable it was—it was also incredibly complex. "Or maybe...I don’t know, you just don’t take it seriously. That's why you don't want to tell anyone about it."

You gasped, finally understanding his behavior. Realizing the hidden concern.

"You’re worried I don't take us seriously?"

Spencer shrugged briefly.

"You know, if that's really the case, I'd rather know now..."

You leaned in to catch one of his hands, which had been clasped over his chest. You broke his defensive stance, pulling him toward you by his long fingers, simply holding it for a moment before speaking again. With a smile. A slightly amused smile.

"Of course, I take us seriously, you idiot," you snorted. A sense of relief washed over you. Earlier, he’d seemed genuinely worried, and you’d been expecting far worse things than the fact that your guy literally paled with anxiety over worrying you weren’t as invested in your fresh relationship as he was. Well, out of context, it sounded like a very serious concern. But the context was, you took it seriously, and you were incredibly happy he did too. "You know what? Maybe you're right. Why should we make idiots out of ourselves for the next week? Let’s just walk in like this."

You motioned toward your intertwined fingers, raising them as if they were a trophy earned through sweat and tears. Spencer followed their movement with his gaze, initially surprised, but then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he tilted his head with a quiet chuckle.

"We can do it your way," he said, taking control of your hands, clasping them with both of his. He looked relieved; your reassurance and the sincerity in your voice clearly calmed him. You smiled too, finally seeing that peace on his face. "I really don't mind waiting a few days. It might even be… interesting. One of us might not hold out and accidentally slip up."

You raised an eyebrow in a teasing manner.

"Another bet, Reid?" you clicked your tongue. You kept eye contact with him, feeling his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. He seemed so unaffected, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. "You already lost five bucks about…ten minutes ago. At this rate, you'll be broke within a month, and we'll have to skip that overpriced coffee downtown. Now that would be a real horror story, speaking as a citizen of the first world."

"Didn't say anything about another bet!”

"Too late," you shot back, turning his hand and taking it in a more formal handshake. "Handshakes sealed the deal."

He rolled his eyes, but a half-smile lingered on his face. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

"I think we should get going," he said reluctantly.

You sighed with the same enthusiasm. You really felt stuck to that seat, right next to him.

"You know, being late on the first day of the new year should be fully justified..."

"We really need to go."

He was right. But before either of you could move to get out of the car, he leaned forward. Gently cupping your cheek, he drew you in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to vanish—just the two of you, in that quiet, perfect stillness.

His face suddenly turned to the side, noticing something through the windshield. You frowned and looked in the same direction.

"That's Gideon," you remarked out loud, even though both of you had already spotted the silhouette of your coworker stepping out of a car that had just parked a short distance ahead. He wasn’t looking your way yet, but he could at any moment. "Quick, hide!"

Okay, you were completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t about being afraid of getting caught. After all, there was nothing strange about two coworkers arriving at work together in the same car—it was even very eco-friendly. You just liked the idea of shoving Reid under the seat. And the poor thing, so thrown off by the mock authority in your voice and the situation itself, did it without a second thought.

When Gideon finally noticed you, you cheerfully waved at him.

"Fuck," you muttered suddenly.

"What is it?" Spencer returned to his seat, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Do you think he saw me?"

You shook your head.

"I just realized…this is your car."

"Okay, draw a straw."

"Morgan, how old are you?" You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the man standing across from you in the motel lobby. The place where you were spending the night this time was very tidy, with subdued colors, but, as tradition demanded, there had to be some sort of problem. You had one room for two, but one of them only had a double bed. So, you had to decide which two lucky people would share it. "Five?"

"And a half. Listen, we have to decide somehow. Let fate do it. The two who pull the shortest will sleep together. Simple as that."

Before you could say anything else, Garcia approached, weighed down by her bags. Yes, her—rarely did any case require her to be on-site, but it wasn’t completely unheard of.

"Oh, come on, Sweetie," she muttered to you, setting her luggage down and hunching slightly to catch her breath. "Let him feel like a kid again for a moment. He doesn’t get the chance often."

You sighed in resignation, but before you could pull one of the purple straws (how did he even get them?) that Morgan was holding in such a way that their lengths were hidden, you glanced around briefly. Sometimes you arrived at hotels at different times, some getting there faster, others later. Spencer and JJ had just walked in, both wearing coats to shield them from the cold January air. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him and his fogged-up glasses, which he quietly cursed under his breath—judging by the movement of his lips. However, you quickly composed yourself, returning to a neutral expression. It had only been two days since your agreement to keep the details of your relationship hidden, and so far, neither of you had slipped or forgotten to keep quiet around the others. Well, out of the two of you, you were probably struggling with it more—being a bit of a clinger, sometimes even your body would naturally gravitate towards his when standing next to him.

“Why are you standing here?” Spencer asked, approaching you. “Is there a problem with the rooms?”

“Is there ever not a problem with the rooms?” you responded, laughing. “Some poor souls are going to have to share a bed,” you explained, making brief eye contact with him. You were sure only he could catch the emphasis you placed on poor souls.

Of course, you wouldn't mind ending up in the same room. It wasn't about the fact that you were together—before, you’d shared rooms and even beds, and you were used to it by now. You would've probably offered it yourself, if it weren’t for the potential suspicion and that silly bet, which was starting to lose its point in your eyes. Maybe you should’ve just told them a few days ago?

“Oh,” he said shortly, crossing his arms with a bit of stiffness. His brown bag hung from his shoulder. He held your gaze for a moment, but his expression wasn’t as amused as yours. His brows furrowed slightly as he cleared his throat. “Poor them. Who’s it going to be?”

You slightly puffed out your lips slightly, watching him with a sharp look. What was it that made him so uneasy—the fact that you might not be in the same room this time?

“We were just about to decide,” Penelope replied, glancing at her friend with a teasing smile. “Morgan’s going to show us a game he learned today in kindergarten."

JJ couldn't help but snort.

“Just draw a straw…!”

You couldn’t recall another moment when all of you, every single one, rolled your eyes in perfect unison. But that’s exactly what happened when Derek once again enthusiastically explained the rules, as though they weren’t already ridiculously simple. In the end, each of you reached for one of the straws he was holding.

JJ went first. She pulled hers quickly, and it was of regular length, so it was immediately clear she wasn’t one of the poor souls. She raised her hand in a mock display of triumph, earning a few amused chuckles from the group.

Your turn came next. You approached the task with a certain gravity, as though the fate of the night depended entirely on the straw you chose. You studied each one carefully, as if their lengths could somehow be deciphered from the way they were arranged.

You wouldn’t have minded drawing the shortest straw. But only on one condition.

Morgan looked at you with mock sympathy. Your straw wasn’t even half as long as JJ’s, which seemed to settle things. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out which of the remaining two—Reid or Garcia—would end up joining you.

Spencer reached out with a calculated, deliberate motion, his eyes immediately darting to yours when his straw turned out to be...one of the longer ones.

You shot him a look of bitter disappointment before your gaze shifted to your soon-to-be roommate. Penelope didn’t seem disheartened—on the contrary, an enthusiastic smile lit up her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but you caught the fleeting shift in her expression and the subtle flicker of her eyes.

“Oh no,” she suddenly gasped, her voice filled with exaggerated horror, even though she’d just seemed perfectly content, or at least not displeased, at the idea of sharing a room with you. “No, absolutely not. There’s no way I’m sleeping in the same room with her. Do you guys even know how loud she snores?”

Lies! You wanted to yell, but stopped yourself as realization dawned. Garcia was a good actress—you had to give her that—but her flair for dramatics always bordered on overkill, making it far too easy to catch her in a lie.

“I’m not used to traveling as often as you guys are,” Penelope continued in the same over-the-top tone. “I barely get a wink of sleep in a new place when it’s quiet, let alone with someone next to me snoring like a steam engine…”

“Love you too, Pen,” you muttered dryly.

“Someone has to switch with me, please,” she concluded, clasping her fingers together in a dramatic plea and pulling off the best puppy-dog eyes you’d seen in a long time. Well, at least since the time Reid had tried to coax you into reciting one of your old, cringe-worthy high school poems—the existence of which you’d only ever confessed to him.

“JJ?” Penelope turned her hopeful gaze toward her.

“Not a chance. My straw was the longest,” JJ replied, smug and immovable.

“Don’t even think about asking me,” Morgan chimed in before anyone could so much as glance in his direction.

And so, all eyes inevitably fell on Reid.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his ear, not looking directly at you.

“Well, I always carry earplugs with me…”

“Then it’s settled!” Garcia declared, hoisting her luggage with sudden determination. One of her heavy bags was thrust into Morgan’s arms so abruptly that he staggered backward under its weight. “Sweet dreams, everyone! Don’t let the bedbugs bite, and may the sheep you count tonight be extra fluffy and adorable. Goodnight!”

Just before she fully turned to leave, she sent you a quick, knowing wink.

You shook your head in disbelief, but the faintest smile danced on your lips. You didn’t even bother questioning how she knew. Only one conclusion circled your mind. Penelope could be really impossible. Thankfully, being impossible didn’t disqualify her from also being the best friend under this vast, sprawling sky. Period.

"What do you think about starting a tier list for all the hotels we stay in?” you remarked as both of you crossed the threshold of the room. Your eyes immediately landed on its unexpected feature. “Or at least the weirdest ones. Like the one with walls the color of cat pee where the power went out in the middle of the night. That one’s definitely at the top..."

"I don’t really get the point of a mirror on the ceiling," Reid said after a pause, looking over his shoulder at you. He was standing a few steps away, near the bed in the glaring white room with birchwood floors. "Who wants to look at themselves while trying to fall asleep?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking or not. He raised an eyebrow too, not understanding why you did that. Okay, he wasn’t joking.

"You know, the main point isn’t really to look at yourself while falling asleep," you explained, with a bit of amused pity. Your gaze also briefly lingered on the glass surface above the bed, designed to reflect the bodies of people lying in bed. You thought it was a surprising addition but weren’t planning on spending too much time on it for now. You just wanted to get your shoes off—shoes you’d been wearing since sunrise—and finally lie down on something soft. "By the way, I’m taking a shower first."

Spencer only muttered something under his breath in response. Before disappearing behind the bathroom door, you cast one last glance at him. He seemed quiet—strangely quiet. Not that you were expecting his usual chatter after a long day of work; it could weigh on anyone and leave them feeling subdued. Maybe he just needed an extra moment to unwind, and that’s where his restraint came from.

Anyway, you took a quick shower. The pressure of the hot water nearly scalded your skin, which meant you’d be spared the bitter complaints, grumbling, and dramatic resignation threats from Morgan the next day. You felt too tired to linger under the stream for long. After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower, changed into your sleepwear, and gathered the clothes you’d worn all day from the floor.

You and Spencer passed each other in the doorway without a word.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you frowned. The bathroom door shut behind him, and some concerned question froze on your lips. For a moment, you stood still, debating whether you should ask it. But then the sound of running water reached your ears, and you figured he probably wouldn’t hear you anyway.

Instead, you decided to climb into bed, wait for him, and ask about it then. Whatever it was clearly weighed on him, and the fact that something was bothering him bothered you. Funny how that worked, right?

You spent that moment lying on your back, eyes wide open, afraid you might accidentally fall asleep if you closed them. A comfortable bed during a case—it felt like pure luxury. You were waiting for Spencer to finally emerge from the bathroom so you could curl up next to him, fall asleep to the fresh post-shower scent of him, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Just like you had spent half the day after the New Year’s party at your place—wrapped around each other, arguing over who would get up to make coffee and whether you should start cleaning up the mess from the night before.

You tucked your arm beneath your head, gazing at your fully-covered form reflected in the ceiling mirror.

“Did you find a portal to another galaxy in there or what?” you finally called out, impatient. He’d been in there way too long. And coming from you—a known lover of long, indulgent baths—that was saying something.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing a gray t-shirt instead of his usual neat work attire and tie perfectly knotted at his neck. He still had his glasses on, which he might’ve forgotten to remove, judging by the way he slid into bed to your left without taking them off.

You watched him closely, rubbing at your tired eye. The shower had managed to wash away about half of the tension from Spencer’s face, but the other half stubbornly remained.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he said softly.

“I didn’t have to,” you admitted simply, watching as he carefully adjusted himself, finding the right position. The lamp on his side of the bed cast a warm glow over his skin. You were both half-sitting, you comfortably propped up against the soft pillows, and him barely leaning back against them. “But I wanted to. We really lucked out with this room, huh? Penelope is one of a kind.”

"Did you tell her about us?"

"I didn’t say a word. She's just more observant than the rest”

He nodded, agreeing with you. You thought he might say something else about it, maybe make a joke about the bet, but he didn’t. You yawned.

"You seem tired.”

“How did you figure that out, Sherlock?” you asked, your sarcasm light, without a hint of malice. “You too, by the way. Although, it’s not just that you seem tired—you are tired, at first glance. Or maybe something’s bothering you. Or maybe both. Am I right?”

He shrugged slowly.

“No, as far as I know.”

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, shifting into a full sitting position with slightly bent legs. You leaned forward just enough to gently take his glasses off and fold them, your fingers brushing briefly against his cheek. He didn’t look at what you were doing, his gaze fixed on your face under the soft fall of his lashes. The wonderful color of his eyes, the slight hesitation in your movements as you moved a little closer to kiss him—a fleeting, tender press of lips.

“Something’s going on, and you can tell me about it.”

“Or we could just go to sleep,” he suggested quietly. “It’s been a long day. You must be tired, I mean, you yawned a little while ago.”

You tilted your head, studying him thoughtfully. Was he really trying this hard to dodge the topic? How could you get him to open up?

“I know blackmail isn’t exactly healthy for relationships,” you started finally, turning his glasses over in your hands, “but I’m not giving these back until you tell me.”

Both corners of his mouth twitched at once.

“Oh no, what am I going to do now?” he replied with feigned concern, gently shaking his head. Then he lowered his voice. “This is exactly what I’d say if I didn’t also have contacts with me.”

"Sometimes I just want to…ugh."

"Violence isn't too healthy for relationships either."

"Just like not opening up. Remember what we talked about a few days ago in the car? You were worried I don't take you seriously. How else am I supposed to prove I'm serious if I don’t ask what’s wrong when I can tell something’s off?"

Your explanation sounded a bit jumbled, but he had to get the general idea. The reference to that specific conversation and his own words seemed to hit a sensitive spot.

"I didn’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me," he quickly corrected, swallowing hard. His chest fell, and the sigh felt like surrender. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to worry about it. It's nothing serious. I’m just tired...and a little stressed."

"Stressed?" you repeated, surprised. "You're stressed? But about what?"

He hesitated for a moment.

"Just... about this," he said vaguely, his gaze shifting from you to your reflection in the glass ceiling. "Us, I mean."

"What do you mean?" you asked quietly, still confused, gently shaking your head. "We've shared rooms before, so if it’s about that, I really don’t get it."

"Yeah, but never like this. In a room with a king-sized bed and a huge mirror right above us," he explained, his voice tinged with embarrassment, clearly wishing he could just stop talking. "Okay, I know this sounds dumb, I know it does, but I don’t know why it’s messing with my head like this. I just...I kinda thought maybe you'd want to..."

"Spencer," you interrupted, saving him from going any further. You saw a flicker of relief in his eyes. You weren’t sure what emotion was bubbling up inside you now—whether it was still confusion or just pure amusement. "You were worried I’d want to have sex with you?”

You didn’t even need to wait for his answer to know you’d hit the nail on the head. Considering how your relationship had grown out of friendship, slowly evolving over time and shared experiences instead of a sudden burst of passion, you weren’t surprised you hadn’t yet taken that step together. It was something special in its own way—there had never been any pressure, and you hadn’t expected that he might feel the exact opposite.

So when you finally figured out what had been bothering him all this time, you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine.

"You were right, you know. It does sound kind of dumb," you said, unable to keep the smile from your face. His expression remained unreadable, his posture betraying a hint of anticipation as he waited for the rest of your reaction. "But also…I don’t know, kind of adorable? But seriously, Spencer, we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready."

"It’s not that I don’t want to at all," he clarified quickly, almost too firmly. "I mean...it’d be our first time. Together. That’s what I mean. And I guess I just didn’t expect it to...happen tonight, here, of all places."

"I didn’t either," you admitted truthfully, the smile still lingering on your face. Unlike him, you didn’t feel even a hint of embarrassment. "I figured we’d just go to sleep, especially since we both already admitted we’re exhausted."

"Fair point," he mumbled.

"Honestly, this has to be the biggest example of overthinking I’ve ever seen anyone put themselves through, Spencer," you teased lightly, shaking your head.

For a moment, he stayed silent, but it felt like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding.

“You’re gonna have to get used to that,” he admitted finally, his voice soft. But then, you caught the faint glimmer of a smile tugging at his lips.

He even started to laugh, a quiet chuckle filled with a sort of amused self-awareness. Meanwhile, you leaned out of the bed to place his glasses on the nightstand on your side. If he wanted them in the morning, he’d have no choice but to reach right over you.

“But just for the record,” he began after a moment, as you reached for the edge of the blanket that had slipped off you earlier, pulling it back up to wrap around yourself. Your head was only inches from the pillow now. You gave him a questioning nod. He, too, was getting ready to lie down, finally looking genuinely relaxed. “How pathetic do you think that was, on a scale from one to ten?”

You just rolled your eyes, not even dignifying the question with an answer.

“In the interest of science,” he pressed, “one to ten?”

“Pathetic enough that you’ll need to redeem yourself a little in my eyes,” you sighed dramatically. “Go on, I’m waiting for your ideas.”

“I think I might have a few,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

You prolonged the kiss, savoring the deep sense of comfort it brought you. The two of you lay face to face, and you gently brushed a few still-damp strands of hair from Spencer's forehead, though they stubbornly fell back into place. Eventually, you gave up with a soft sigh against his lips. Spencer kept his eyes closed, lost in a quiet bliss, even as you pulled back just slightly, leaving only an inch of space between you.

"Can I turn off the light now?" you asked, as always. The question had become a tradition since you'd learned about his complicated relationship with darkness.

He hummed in agreement, nodding faintly. Leaning over him, you reached for the bedside lamp on his side. The room was instantly bathed in darkness, your reflections in the mirror above fading into obscurity.

You didn’t fully return to your original spot. Instead, you shifted closer, resting your head comfortably against his chest. The hotel pillows were unbelievably plush, you had to admit, but that night, you chose this over anything else.

"You’re not asleep," he noted gently after about fifteen minutes. He cleared his throat. "During sleep, a person’s breathing becomes slower and more regular. You know, if you’re uncomfortable here, you don’t have to…"

"I’m listening to your heartbeat," it slipped out of you. Though it was true, you hadn’t planned on admitting it out loud. "Nothing sinister, just to be clear. I’m not planning to rip it out of your chest or anything like that. It just works for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like those videos that imitate the sound of a crackling fireplace. Pretty calming."

"My heartbeat reminds you of the sound of a fireplace?" he said, a glint of confusion in his softly hoarse voice.

You sighed, in the darkness, he couldn’t see the faint smile painting itself on your face, pressed against his chest.

"Sweet dreams, silly."

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