#I don't know if someone already talked about this or if this is a reach but either way I found it interesting so I made a post about it!

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. “he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[nick-writes-stuff]

Ransom

Hwang In-ho x spouse!reader (gn)

summary: As much as In-ho tried to keep you a secret, a plot to overthrow and loot the compound involved holding you as ransom. The plan is unsuccessful, but your life wouldn't be the same again.

!warnings: canon-typical violence, home invasion themes, reader is injured and manhandled, hurt/comfort, implied traumatic experiences

a/n: this is probably going to be the last solo in-ho fic for a bit. i don't want to get burnt out from writing him. expect some headcanons or fics about some other characters in the future!

In-ho liked to keep you away from his work. You didn't know all of the specifics. You knew what he was doing was gruesome and shady, but you preferred to stay out of it.

A year or two after he began working as the Front Man, he had reached out to you, hoping to get some piece of his life back. You two had been close friends in your childhood up through your first year of university. You knew him and his brother well. Jun-ho would always pick on him since he thought it was obvious the two of you were pining for each other, but nothing ever came from that.

Then you drifted apart. There was no animosity between you. You talked occasionally, but you were just doing separate things in your lives. You would be lying if you said you didn't think about him every once in a while, wistfully wondering how your life would have been different if you had ever gotten the courage to ask him.

That thought made you feel guilty every time. You heard about what he was doing in his life. You knew he got married, was expecting a child with his wife, got fired for alleged bribery, lost his wife and child, then distanced himself from everyone in his life. Nothing stopped the thought from popping up, but you had never thought about acting in it.

Until you bumped into him at a coffee shop on the outskirts of Seoul years later. You didn't think much of this encounter. He had seemed nonchalant and casual that you assumed he had already cleared things up with his family.

This wasn't a chance encounter like you thought it was. Quite the contrary, as In-ho had meticulously planned it for a month in advance. It included a bit of surveillance on his end, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for his line of work. He met you there, and it felt exhilarating to finally be able to leave the mask behind for once.

You finally kept in touch with him. Your relationship only grew from that point on. Before you moved in with him, he sat you down to talk about his work and living situation. He was straightforward for the most part, but he spared you any of the extremely gory details. And you didn't run. You wanted to be there for him. Even if you were morally opposed to his line of work, you really cared about him. And it's not like you were participating.

You had lived with him for a few years before he proposed to you. Unlike every other thing he does, he didn't have a plan for it. Everything was spontaneous, and it was something you really appreciated. Not thinking about it beforehand showed that he really felt strongly about you and didn't have to think it through to convince him.

You stayed in the apartment for most of the time. You found a way to make yourself busy. Sometimes In-ho would have some random tasks for you like baking bread or making dalgona. You didn't know how that was helpful, but you didn't mind.

He was happy to have someone to return home to at the end of the day. But with that came the worry of your safety. The compound was secure, but there was always the fear in the back of his mind. You've taken self-defense courses before. You weren't helpless, but the people who could be a threat are rather unsavory people. They acted rashly and without forethought. Their unpredictability was concerning.

In-ho wanted to teach you how to use a gun, but you refused. You didn't like guns. You witnessed something traumatic that you didn't like discussing, and In-ho knew that. You at least let him show you how to check if the safety was on or off. He did insist that you carry around a stun gun, something you reluctantly agreed to.

You both had hoped you wouldn't have to use it. But sometimes things never go how you planned.

You had been straightening up when you heard the alarm start blaring. You swallowed hard, trying to calm your breathing. Panic would do nothing but make you more vulnerable.

The shrill ring of the rotary phone receiving a call shocked you more than it reasonably should have. You felt your heart stop for a second as it reverberated through the room. You shook your head at your jumpiness and walked to answer the phone.

You picked up the receiver. “You scared the shit out of me.” You said with a slight chuckle.

In-ho wasn't in a joking mood. He couldn't be right now. “Listen, there's 5 players and 2 rogue guards storming the place right now.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh god.” You muttered, realizing the gravity of the situation. Your breathing quickened as a response.

“Stay calm, okay? You need to keep your mind sharp.” He said. He knew it was a tall order, but he was right and you knew it. His voice was level despite the pit forming in his stomach. “There's one near you. Lock the door and hide in the storage room. Get ready to catch him off guard and lock him in there, okay? I'll get to you as soon as I can.” He said quickly.

You took a deep breath. “I will. I love you.” You said.

“I love you too.” He said. His voice was softer than it was before. He tried to keep you a secret while at work. Sure, some people knew you were living with him, mostly just some of the managers, but he didn't like advertising the fact that you were someone he cared about in fear it would be used against him.

And it was being used against him. There had been a scheme brewing behind the scenes for a few years that they hadn't caught onto. A player who voted to leave and didn't come back to the games decided to make a group to infiltrate the compound and steal the money outright. If they had 45 billion Won to offer the winner, they had to have even more at their disposal. The two guards had been working there for a few years. One of them was one of the managers who knew about your presence on the island. The one who was right outside the door to the apartment.

Things started to piece together in In-ho mind as he watched the events unfold. He became suspicious of other soldiers now. He didn't think he could trust anyone to rescue you except himself. What if they were in on it? Maybe he was being paranoid, but he didn't want to risk your life. He started devising a plan to neutralize the situation, giving out orders when needed. Once everyone knew their task, he made his way toward the apartment.

-

You put down the receiver the correct way out of habit. You rushed over to the front door, trembling fingers struggling to lock the door. You flicked the lights off and entered the storage room. You flicked those lights off as well. Maneuvering the best you could in the dark, you stood beside one of the shelves with your back against the wall. You focused on the coldness you felt where you made contact with the wall. It was grounding you. Your hand gripped the stun gun in your pocket. You tried to calm your breathing, but it was still shaky.

You flinched the first time you heard a thud. It wasn't a gunshot, more of an impact. The second time, it happened you realized it was someone breaking down the door. And they seemed to have gotten in. You heard heavy footsteps pacing through the apartment.

You hoped they would think you weren't there. Maybe you took a trip outside or even to the mainland. Maybe they didn't even know you were here.

That wasn't the case. You knew it the second you heard him shout. “Come on out. I know you're here.”

You tensed up, realizing how bad of a situation you were in. You just hoped In-ho would be there soon.

You heard him opening the doors one by one, doing a sweep of the apartment. Eventually, he opened the door to the storage room. You took deep breaths trying to stay quiet. Once he walked past you, you made your exit. He noticed you before you got out. “Not so fast.” He called out.

You managed to get through the doorway and start to close the door on him. You tried shoving against him, but you were overpowered and knocked to the ground as he shoved the door open.

You gathered your bearings and started to stand up, but you noticed the weapon in his hand. A pistol. Standard issue for the managers to keep on their person.

You started breathing faster, panicking despite In-ho's words repeating in your head. Stay calm, okay? You need to keep your mind sharp. You took a deep breath as you stood up. You tried to run off, but he stopped you by shoving you into the wall.

“Sorry, but I can't let you get away.” He said mockingly while closing the distance between you. He wrapped a hand around your throat.

“What do you want?” You asked, managing to get the words out despite the circumstances.

He laughed, using his other hand to pull off his square mask and hood to reveal his sick grin. “You're going to be my golden ticket to the fortune it takes to run these games. Your husband has to have hundreds of billions of Won, and he's gonna fork it over if he doesn't want me to put a bullet in your head.” He said. He tapped the barrel of the gun against your temple. You flinched away from it, both out of fear and a reflex from the cold metal.

He was clearly deriving pleasure from watching you struggle, and it made you sick to your stomach. You couldn't breathe, both from the panic and his grip on your airway.

“You don't have to do this.” You muttered, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Oh, I know. It's nothing personal, sweetheart.” He said with a sickening sweet but mocking tone. He had a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Your vision started to blur as he spoke. You reached your trembling hand into your pocket, fumbling with the stun gun. When you got it oriented the correct way, you made your move. You held down the button and jammed it into his side.

He jerked backward, releasing the grip on your throat and the gun. You took a desperate breath as you ducked out of his hold, but he recovered from the volts quicker than you thought he would. He turned and shoved you to the ground.

“You motherfucker.” He growled. He kicked you, causing you to cry out in pain. “You're gonna regret that.” He spat.

-

In-ho was making haste to the apartment when he heard you cry out. He grimaced under the mask. He tried to calm down his own breathing, but that attempt was in vain the second he heard a gunshot.

“Fuck, no no no no no.” He muttered. He felt the panic rise within him. He didn't know what he would do if he lost you. He can't do this without you. He can't lose you. If he did, it would be all his fault. You didn't deserve this. You didn't belong in the world that he dragged you into.

Why did the universe hate him? Was he doomed to lose everyone he loved? His mother, his father, his wife and child, his brother, his mentor, and now you too. Maybe he was meant to be alone. The universe was trying to show him that, but he never learned, and now he's lost the last person who he cared about.

He quickly noticed that the door had been broken into. Whoever did this was sure of their actions.

Whoever did this was about to be killed as well. He pulled the gun from his own pocket. Part of him wanted to keep them alive and torture them, make them regret the pain they put you through. But he knew you wouldn't want that.

He braced himself for what he thought he would see when he entered the doorframe, but it wasn't what he expected.

You were sitting with your back against the wall. You held the manager's gun in your hands, still outstretched as if you were frozen in time. Your gaze looked far away. Your breathing was shallow.

The manager laid in a heap on the ground, blood beginning to pool around him from the wound.

You shot him dead.

Once In-ho assessed the situation, he was at your side almost instantly, and the black mask was discarded just as quickly. He grabbed your wrist gently, which snapped you out of your haze. You jerked away from his touch, head quickly turning to look at whoever startled you.

“Hey, hey, it's me, okay? It's just-” He started.

The second you realized it was him you wrapped your arms around him. The pistol clattered to the ground. You cried into his shoulder, letting out shuddering sobs.

He wrapped one arm around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. His thumb gently stroked your scalp while he repeated, “It's okay. You're safe,” in a soft whisper, hoping both of you realized it was true.

His own breathing was uneven as well as he tried to keep himself calm. He wanted to be a rock for you to cling to, the calm in the storm. But he was so fucking scared himself. He thought he lost you. He thought he was going to walk in and see you dead on the ground.

So for the first time in a long time, tears ran down his face. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. It was probably when he returned from the games to learn his wife had passed. After the confrontation with Jun-ho, he didn't cry. He just shut down emotionally, distanced himself, and drank a bit too much for a few days. He had never really given himself time to process those emotions except during the recurring nightmares about the incident.

After a few minutes, you heard a voice at the door. “Sir?”

You looked up to see two triangle soldiers. You tensed up, about ready to get up and run out of the room, but In-ho's embrace tightened ever so slightly to keep you with him.

He didn't turn. He couldn't because he didn't have his mask, and he wasn't going to doom the two guards by looking at them. “Get a cleaning crew to deal with this. We'll be out of here when they arrive.” He said, keeping his tone level.

When he heard them leave, he released you from the hug. He pulled back and looked at you. “Could we move into the bedroom? Is that okay?” He asked you gently.

It took you a moment to register his words. Your gaze was directed toward him, but it seemed you were looking through him. You eventually nodded your head. He had been intending on carrying you, but you stood up using the wall to keep your balance. He noticed your grimace from the movement. He suspected you were in pain, but he didn't dwell on it now.

He grabbed your hand gingerly, leading you into the other room. He didn't even care to grab the mask, totally forgetting it as his priority shifted to you.

When you entered the room, he locked it behind you. He didn't want to be bothered by the games right now. He would get the information about the breach later. Right now, he was needed here. Plus, he thought you would feel safer knowing it was only him with you.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling to the ground. You just sat there motionless, staying into space. He looked over at you, his eyes a storm of anger and fear and worry and love. He sat next to you, an action that startled you until you realized it was still just him.

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to him. “It's just us in here, okay?” He said softly. He grabbed your hand in his, fidgeting with your fingers absent-mindedly. Occasionally his fingers would find their way to your pulse point as if he was subconsciously ensuring you were still alive.

He didn't know how long you both sat there like that. He didn't want to overwhelm you, so he just held you and occasionally murmured some comforting words. You could talk when you were ready.

Eventually, you broke the silence. “I didn't know what else to do.” You murmured softly. Your face was still blank, but he took some comfort in hearing your voice.

“That's okay. You did what you had to do to survive.” He said. Explaining this to you felt strange to him. It's the same words used to justify the murder in the games. Maybe his vision was clouded by his love for you, but he didn't think the games and what you just went through were comparable. It felt wrong to use those words even though by the game's logic, these two situations were both considered self-preservation. He didn't have time to go through this moral dilemma. Perhaps he would rethink all of his past decisions in the quiet of night, but right now, you needed him, and that was the most important thing to him.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke again. “Do you want to know what happened?” You asked.

He sighed softly. “I would like to know eventually, but we don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to.” He said honestly. He didn't want to pressure you, but knowing the information would be helpful for investigating the incident and his own mental well-being. He wanted to know how he could prevent this from happening again.

You took a deep breath before beginning to speak. “He broke down the door and started looking through all the rooms. He was looking for me. I hid in the storage room, and I tried to sneak out like you said, but he was too fast and forced the door open.”

He grimaced slightly. He already assumed that the manager was there for you, but hearing it stirred an anger in his chest. “Did he say anything to you?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. He said that he was going to hold me as ransom for the money.” You said in a small voice.

He stayed silent for a moment before gently cupping your face in his hand. He guided your gaze toward him. “Did he hurt you?” He asked. He tried to keep his voice gentle, but the simmering anger inside him caused his voice to be stern. He needed to know.

He felt you tense up, and that answered his question enough. You nodded slightly. “I got shoved around a bit. He tried choking me out, but I got him with the stun gun. That disarmed him and…” you trailed off, taking a deep breath before adding, “you know the rest.”

He tilted your head up slightly, dark eyes landing on the redness that would certainly turn to bruises. Physical reminders of the pain In-ho felt like he caused you by putting you in this dangerous environment.

There was that anger again. He could feel it coursing through his veins. It was wrath and hatred and fury. He wished you hadn't killed him so he could force the manager to feel at least 1000 times more pain and torture. He wanted the satisfaction of killing him slowly on his own terms.

You wanted to reassure him that you were okay. The bruises will fade with time. The lingering sense of pain where the manager's hands gripped your throat will leave. When he didn't seem to react, you sighed softly. It's time to take another approach. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.” You said cheekily.

You could see it in his eyes. While he was unreadable to almost everyone, you could see his emotions clear as day. Although to be fair, you were the only one to see him without the mask. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I'm fine. Just a few bruises. Nothing that times won't heal,” you said. Physically, at least. This day would definitely haunt you for years, but you knew that wasn't his concern right now.

It took him a moment to register your words, but when he did, he looked down at you. Upon seeing your smirk, he couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face. He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Only you could go through something like that and joke about it after.” He said.

“I just don't like seeing you upset.” You said softly.

He paused for a moment before pressing his lips to your forehead. You leaned into him. You both sat there in the intimate silence for a moment before you spoke again. “You know, I don't regret doing it.” You said. You sighed. “I didn't like doing it, but I think he got what he deserved.”

He tried not to seem surprised. He was surprised, but he didn't want you to think it was him appraising your statement negatively. He didn't have room to judge as he had an obvious reputation.

“And that's okay.” He said gently.

In a strange way, he was almost proud but not for the reason most would think. He could imagine Il-nam praising him for getting you to see the purpose of the games. Others would think he was happy to corrupt you. But honestly, that's bullshit.

He was happy that you had a reason to fight for your life. You considered yourself, your husband, and your future together more important than your personal code of ethics. He had seen how opposed to violence you were, and the fact you would act against your moral values for him was almost heartwarming.

It reminded him of himself. He did the same for his first wife. He was an upstanding police officer, but he decided to work with the people he was supposed to take down. He took loans and bribes to pay for her treatment, and he wouldn't have changed a thing. It was a testament to his devotion. His love language is acts of immorality

In-ho arranged for two nights off to spend with you. You both tried to pretend the other's nightmare hadn't woken you up. He appeared like he didn't notice your hands reach to your next and try to pry off the hands of the man in your dream. You didn't react when you felt his fingers on your pulse point as he calmed himself down. Through the next couple days, you tried to live as normally as the situation allowed. He occasionally needed to step out of the apartment to assess the state of the games and give orders. You waited for him rather impatiently. He also wanted to be with you as much as possible. It calmed both of you from the anxiety which was likely going to linger. Being here was dangerous and that was a risk you both would have to take. And you took it willingly if it meant being together.

He'd do anything for you, too. His list of misdeeds had grown more serious, so it's more accurate to say he would change his ways for the better for you. If he had to break the strict rules or if he had to leave the games behind entirely, that's fine. He'd do it in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

[arcadia-smith]

Note: Gonna be like 4 or 5 parts of this one. I've had this planned for so long.

Summary: I think the title speaks for itself.

TW: idk, angst, fem!reader is a traitor, Simon Riley is pissed. Mention of blood, torture. Let me know if I've missed anything.

Flashback—Two Years Ago

The campfire crackled, casting flickering orange light over the small clearing. It was one of those rare nights—no mission, no gunfire in the distance, no orders barking through comms. Just a handful of them out in the open, the cold air nipping at their skin while smoke curled into the dark sky.

Ghost sat across from you, mask off, but the skull-painted balaclava still hung around his neck. A rare sight, one not many got to see. His face was all sharp angles, tired eyes shadowed by the weight of too many sleepless nights.

“You keep staring like that, I’m gonna start thinking you’re in love with me,” you teased, poking at the fire with a stick.

He huffed, shaking his head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

Ghost leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. The firelight made his eyes glow, sharp and unreadable. “You always like playing games?”

Something in his voice made you pause. The teasing between you was common, but there was something different about tonight. The air was heavier. Charged.

“Depends on the game,” you murmured.

He studied you for a long moment, the quiet stretching between you. Around you, the others had already begun turning in for the night, leaving just the two of you with the fire and the dark.

Ghost’s voice was quieter when he finally spoke again.

“You ever think about leaving?”

You frowned. “Leaving what?”

“This life. The missions. The constant fightin’.” His fingers flexed, curling into loose fists. “Ever think about just... walking away?”

You exhaled slowly, considering him. “No,” you lied.

Ghost gave a short, knowing laugh. “Bullshit.”

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. The thought had crossed your mind before—more than once. The weight of it all, the things you'd done, the blood staining your hands. There were nights you dreamed of just disappearing.

But you never thought he did.

You watched him carefully. “Why are you asking?”

His gaze flickered to the fire, jaw tight. “No reason.”

You nudged his boot with yours. “Liar.”

Something passed over his expression—something raw, something real. It made your stomach twist, made you want to reach for him, to—

“I just…” He hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. Then, softer, “There’s gotta be more than this. More than just killin’ and losin’ people and waiting for the next fight.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Because, in the end, that was all you knew, wasn’t it?

You forced a smile. “You planning on running off, Riley?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Not without you.”

The words hit you harder than expected.

Not without you.

You swallowed, the fire crackling between you, the world feeling too small all of a sudden.

If things had been different...

Maybe.

You nudged his boot again, this time softer. “Better be careful, Ghost. Someone might think you actually care about me.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t joke.

Instead, he just held your gaze and said, “Yeah. Maybe I do.”

And for the first time in a long time—you didn’t have anything clever to say back.

Present

Your wrists are bound. Ankles too. The cold steel of the chair presses against your spine, the weight of your capture sinking in. But you don't beg. You don't cry. You simply watch him.

Ghost stands before you, arms crossed, the balaclava masking everything except those sharp, piercing eyes. Eyes that had once softened around you. That softness is gone now. Replaced by something colder. Something lethal.

“You gonna start talking?” His voice is rough, scraped raw from battle, from betrayal. From you.

You tilt your head, feigning confusion. “About what?”

His gloved fingers curl into fists at his sides. He’s not stupid. You knows that. He’s watching, waiting, searching for the lie before it even leaves your lips.

“Don’t pretend you’re some meek, pathetic little girl,” he growls, stepping closer, the weight of him suffocating. “Not when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes.”

Your lips twitch—half amusement, half something else. “You always did see too much.”

“And yet, not enough,” he spits. His hands slam down on the arms of the chair, caging you in. “I trusted you.”

Something flickers in your expression, something so quick that most wouldn’t have caught it. But Ghost does. Regret? Guilt? No. It’s not that simple, is it?

“You shouldn’t have,” you murmur.

His fingers twitch like he wants to grab you, shake you, make you tell him why you did it. Why you sold them out. Why you left him picking up the bodies of men who should still be alive.

Instead, he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his mask like it might help steady him.

“You don’t get to sit there and act like this wasn’t your choice.” His voice is lower now, dangerous in a different way. “You chose this. Chose to lie. Chose to betray us. Betray me.”

Your gaze drops to his chest, the black combat vest littered with dirt, dust, blood—none of it his. You wonder how much of that blood is because of you.

When you speak again, your voice is quiet. Almost regretful.

“If you were in my position, you would have done the same.”

Ghost goes still. His entire body. Like a predator moments before the kill.

“I’d never be in your position.”

You smile then—small, sad. “That’s what you think.”

For the first time, uncertainty flickers in those dark eyes of his. And you know you're still in his head, whether he wants you there or not.

But Ghost is nothing if not relentless. And he’s going to get his answers. One way or another.

And you?

You're going to make him work for them.

It’s a standoff, a battle not fought with fists or bullets but with patience and will.

He’s waiting for you to break.

You're waiting for him to snap.

The dim light above you flickers, casting shadows that stretch and twist across the cold concrete walls. Somewhere outside this room, soldiers are cleaning up the mess you left behind. Counting bodies. Patching wounds. Cursing your name.

You wonder if any of them are still defending you. If any of them think maybe there’s an explanation.

But Ghost isn’t like them. He doesn’t deal in maybes. He deals in facts. In truths. And right now, the only truth that matters is that you put a bullet in the trust he once had for you.

His fingers twitch at his sides. Small. Almost imperceptible. But you catch it.

He’s angry.

Good.

You tilt your head, pushing against the restraints just enough to test them, to remind him that you're still here. “You gonna hit me, Simon?”

His jaw tightens.

You say his name on purpose, tasting the weight of it. Simon. Not Ghost. Not the soldier. The man.

But the man is gone, buried beneath layers of war and loss and rage.

“You’re not worth the effort,” he mutters.

You chuckle, the sound light despite the situation. “That’s not what you used to think.”

Ghost stiffens.

There it is. The crack.

You lean forward as much as the bindings allow, your voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “Tell me, do you hate me more because of what I did? Or because you didn’t see it coming?”

Ghost’s breath flares through the mask. His shoulders square, tension winding through every muscle like a wire pulled too tight.

Then, suddenly, he moves.

You barely have time to process before his gloved hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. It’s not gentle. But it’s not cruel either. It’s something in between, something laced with frustration, with an anger he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

His thumb brushes against your jaw, just for a second. A ghost of something softer.

And then—

“You have no idea how close you are to finding out exactly how much I hate you,” he murmurs, voice dark.

You swallow. Not fear. Something else.

His eyes burn into yours, and you realize with certainty—

Ghost is not here for vengeance. Not yet.

No, he’s here for the truth.

And he’s going to tear you apart to get it.

Ghost steps back, a shadow falling over you as he moves to the table beside you. The clink of metal as he retrieves something—a pair of pliers, a knife, a set of instruments. Tools for precision, for control, for breaking a person in more ways than one.

You don't flinch.

Don't give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“Still playing tough?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.

You don't answer. There’s nothing left to say.

Simon’s fingers linger over the pliers before he sets them down with a soft clink, his eyes still on you. “I should’ve known better. You were always good at hiding what was underneath.”

The words catch in your throat. A memory—of laughter, of something real between you, of trust that now feels like a cruel joke.

Your lips part. "I never lied to you."

Ghost’s eyes flash at the statement, like the very idea of you suggesting any innocence on your part angers him. "You didn’t need to. You betrayed me without saying a word. Without hesitation."

A beat of silence, and then he steps forward again, crouching so he’s eye level with you. The mask hides everything, but his posture speaks volumes. This isn’t just about information anymore. It’s personal.

"Tell me why," he demands, voice raw, "why the hell you did it."

You meet his gaze—cold, calculating. There’s nothing in your eyes now. Not fear, not guilt. Just silence.

The silence eats at him. You know it does.

And he knows that you know.

Simon’s hand snaps out like lightning, grabbing you by the jaw with an iron grip. Your teeth click together, the pressure of his fingers hard enough to make you see stars.

"I won't ask again," he growls.

You don't blink. Don't give him the satisfaction of even a flicker of weakness.

"Then you’ll never get an answer," you retort, voice tight but defiant.

His grip tightens.

"God, you’re stubborn." He lets out a harsh breath, more exasperated than angry now. His fingers leave your jaw, and he steps back. "Fine. You wanna play it like this? You wanna be a goddamn enigma?"

You don't respond.

For a long moment, he stands there, staring at you, calculating. You can see the storm swirling behind his eyes, and for the first time since the betrayal, you wonders if he’s considering breaking you. For good.

Then, to your surprise, he steps back even further, turning his back to you.

A loud clink echoes in the room as he picks up a chair, spinning it around before sitting down, his broad frame leaning into the backrest, arms crossed over his chest.

"Not gonna make it easy, huh?" he mutters, almost to himself. "Thought you might’ve learned something from your time with us."

You lift an eyebrow, the barest hint of a smirk curling your lips. "I’m not your puppet, Simon. Never was."

He narrows his eyes, glaring over his shoulder. "We’ll see about that."

Another long silence.

Then—

Click.

Your head snaps up at the sound of something sharp. Ghost is holding a knife now, just barely out of your line of sight, running it lightly over the edge of the table. The sound alone is enough to send a shiver through you.

"You’ve never been good at waiting, have you?" He tilts his head, his voice softening just a little. It’s the calm before the storm, and you both know it. "You always had to be in control. I gave you control. I trusted you. And now look where we are."

Simon’s eyes narrow dangerously. He leans forward slowly, placing the knife on the table with deliberate precision.

And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, Simon hesitates. His eyes flicker toward the blade, then back to her.

“Answer me, and I’ll make it quick,” he says, his tone now laced with an edge you haven't heard in years. "Why. Did. You. Do. It?"

You don't answer.

Because the truth is too damn heavy.

And Simon—Ghost—isn’t ready to hear it.

[kiszjuli]

LOVE BET .ᐟ

✸ bestfriend!jisung x fem!reader | genre. fluff | w.c. 2.5k | ♡

↳ synopsis. you and your bestfriend jokingly make a bet that whoever doesn't get a valentine has to pay for dinner at you guys' favorite restaurant, which is quite expensive. as valentine's day approaches, you both realize that you don't exactly like the idea of the other person going out with someone..

↳playlist. love - keyshia cole. lucky girl - red velvet. affection - between friends. like we just met - nct dream. better than gold - nct dream. off my face - justin bieber.

it was currently february 1st, meaning all of the bright pink and red decorations were already decorated around your campus. you found yourself in the, abnormally loud and chaotic cafeteria, you were waiting at your designated seats for your best friend, jisung, and as you waited you looked around. Glancing from the pink flyers to the red heart shaped balloons, and everything else in between. jisung plopped down with a sigh in front of you. "it looks like cupid threw up in here," you muttered, opening your pack of cookies. jisung's lips quirked up into a boyish grin as he settled in his seat. "what, jelous of all the love in the air?"

"it's not that," you said offering him a cookie, which he gladly took. "it's just...valentine's day is so overrated. why spend one single day to prove your love when you could just like─not suck the rest of the year?"

laughing, jisung spoke again. "god, you're such a romantic, no wonder you're still single," rolling your eyes you glare at him. "you're one to talk. when was the last time you tried to talk to someone you like?"

jisung's face flushed a little. "hey, i talk to people!"

"not what i asked," you say flatly, then lean across the table. "name one person you've flirted with in...the past year," you say thinking for a second.

as if really trying to think, he furrows his brows and looks at the table. "exactly," you laugh. "alright, how about you then? i don't remember hearing about you having a valentine," he raised a brow, challenging you back and sitting up in his seat.

your confidence wavered a little, but didn't let it show, "oh please, i could get asked out if i wanted to,"

"oh yeah? could you?"

you reached for a fry on your tray and threw it at him. he tried to block the fry, it falling to his lap as he laughed at you. "i'm just saying," he shrugged. "all this big talk, yet you're in the same boat as me,"

a smirk spreads across your face, as you get an idea. "fine, you know what? how about, whoever doesn't get themselves a valentine, has to buy the other dinner at our favorite restaurant. deal?"

this time it was jisung’s turn to falter a little. “are you seriously betting on this?”

you shrugged. “why not? scared of losing?” you teased.

those words were all it took for his competitive side to kick and and he straighted up once again. “fine. you’re on.” he reached out his his hand and you took it firmly. “prepare to lose park jisung,” you smiled your gaze locked on his. “i’m about to eat so much pasta,”

he smirked, his hand lingering in yours for a second longer than necessary. “we’ll see about that.”

little did the both of you know, that stupid little bet was about to change everything.

—

it’s a quiet afternoon, after school. you and jisung were hanging out at your favorite café. the place was a little busy with people, but you are just enjoying the usual, comfortable silence. that is, until a guy from one of your classes walks in. you notice him immediately. he was a generally friendly guy, always talking to everyone. he notices you and walks over to your table.

“hey!” he says, making his way over. “what’s up? haven’t seen you around lately.”

you stand to greet him, talking easily as you always do. you’re genuinely enjoying the conversation. he was funny, charming, and always has something interesting to say—never really an awkward pause. you laugh at a joke he tells, and just for a second, you forget jisung is even there.

jisung, however, hasn’t missed a thing.

he watches from his seat, his grip on his cup tightening just slightly. the way you and the guy are laughing, how easily you two got along. it was too comfortable. jisung tries to focus on his phone, but his eyes keep flicking back to you. there’s something in the way the guy looks at you, a little too interested, and jisung feels a pang in his chest. trying to brush it off, he settles with the fact that it’s because you might be winning the bet; for now.

jisung was trying to focus on his phone, scrolling through something meaningless, but the smile on your face. the way you leaned in a little closer to the guy as you talked. it was starting to bother him more than he’d like to admit. it’s dumb, he knows it’s dumb, but he can’t help the flicker of frustration in his stomach. you’re supposed to be just friends. but suddenly, the idea of someone else being interested in you feels… wrong.

he feels like he can ignore him and focus on his phone until the guy laughs again—louder this time, with a hand on your shoulder. he feels his blood start to simmer.

“so, uh, i was thinking about going to see a movie this weekend. wanna go?” the guy asks, his tone light, like it’s no big deal.

you smile, looking a little surprised. “oh, uh, sure! sounds fun.”

jisung’s fingers tighten around his phone, his knuckles almost turning white. the guy’s eyes flicker over to him, then back to you, and jisung doesn’t miss the way the guy raises an eyebrow, sizing him up. it’s a subtle look, but it makes jisung’s jaw clench. he new what the guy was doing, and so did he.

the guy turns to leave, his attention shifting away from you, but before he walks off, he looks back one last time. “see you later, yeah?”

“yeah, definitely!” you call after him, still smiling.

as soon as the guy walks away, jisung can’t hold it in anymore. he stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor louder than usual. “i’m gonna get some air,” he mutters, as he begins to step away.

you glance at him, a little startled. “wha-? jisung, what’s wrong?”

he shakes his head, brushing you off. “nothing. just need some air.”

before you can say anything else, he’s walking out of the café, leaving you behind. you stare after him, confused and a little concerned. what was that about?

you sigh and lean back in your chair, a little unsure of what just happened. you know jisung, and you know that wasn’t just about needing air. you weren’t even doing anything to provoke him. but something about the way he left makes you feel like maybe he’s… bothered.

you pull your phone out, sending him a quick message:

hey, u good?

a few moments later, he replies.

yeah, i’m fine,

but you can tell something’s off. you don’t press him right now, but the conversation with the guy you just had lingers in your mind. was it just your imagination, or did jisung seem…jealous?

—

the following day, you seem to ironically have a similar experience.

you walk into the library after second period, expecting to find jisung buried in his usual corner, headphones in and his nose buried in a textbook. but instead, you stop in your tracks when you see him sitting at a table with a girl from your class, one you’ve seen around but don’t really know. she’s leaning over his shoulder, pointing at a page in her notebook, and jisung is explaining something, his hand moving across the page to help her with the assignment.

hesitating for a moment, not wanting to interrupt, something in your chest tightens when you see how naturally they’re talking, how comfortable she looks in his presence. she was pretty close to him, her shoulder brushing his as she leans in. it feels like your heart sinks a little, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

the way jisung is smiling, the way he’s so focused on her… it’s the same way he looked when he helped you with schoolwork, but this time, it’s different. this time, there’s something more, something you hadn’t expected. the sight stings, even though you know it shouldn’t. it’s not like you have any claim over him, and he’s probably just being a good friend, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach won’t go away.

you stand there for a moment, not sure what to do. a small part of you wants to walk away, pretend you didn’t see it, but another part of you, feels like you’ve been punched in the chest. you had no idea why.

just like jisung had felt the day before when you laughed with that guy at the café, you feel that same pang of jealousy now. and it’s so much more than you were expecting. maybe you understood his reaction a little more now.

after what feels like an eternity, you turn around and walk out of the library before you can let any of those feelings show. you tell yourself it’s ridiculous, that you have no reason to feel this way, but the image of jisung laughing with her sticks in your mind, making it impossible to shake the feeling.

—

it was now valentine’s day, and when you got the text from jisung asking to come over and talk, you assume it’s about the bet. about how he didn’t find the valentine he kept claiming he find. and you would tell him the same, that you were both valentine-less. you figured you’d laugh about it and go about your days. everything would go back to normal and you wouldn’t have to see him around talking to other girls and feeling that awful sting in the pit of your stomach.

but as he arrives to your place, the look on his face making you nervous. he sits on your couch and you follow him, cradling your legs to yourself as you sat.

the soft hum of the city outside the window barely audible as you sit together in the living room. despite the seemingly comfortable silence between you two, there’s something else in the air—a tension neither of you has been able to shake for days.

jisung’s, hands fidget in his lap, his eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for something, trying to find the right words. you could tell he’s been holding something back, and it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the way he keeps glancing at you, like he’s trying to figure out how to speak what’s been on his mind for so long.

“hey,” you say softly, breaking the silence, “is everything okay?”

he glances at you, but his gaze is distant—like he’s caught between saying something and not saying anything at all. you wait for him to respond, the anticipation weighing heavily in the room.

“i’ve been thinking a lot,” he begins, his voice quieter than usual, which spikes your curiosity. he exhales slowly. “about everything… with the bet, with us. and i’ve realized something. something i think i’ve been running from for a really long time.”

you sit up a little, your heart beating faster as you focus entirely on him. his tone was serious, the vulnerability in his voice making your chest tighten with both concern and curiosity.

“i’ve been… avoiding it,” jisung continues, his words coming out in a rush. “for years. i kept telling myself it wasn’t anything. that we were just friends. that it didn’t mean anything. but the truth is, i’ve been denying it for so long because I was scared... of what would happen if i admitted it. if i admitted that i’ve felt something more for you than just… friendship.”

your breath nearly catches in your throat. the words are unexpected, and yet, they make your heart race. you swallow, unsure of what to say, but jisung keeps going.

“i thought if i ignored it long enough, it would go away,” he admits, his eyes locked on yours now, raw and open. “but it never did. and i realized that i couldn’t keep pretending. i couldn’t keep pretending that i didn’t feel something for you. i don’t want to see you with anyone else. i don’t want to watch you go out with someone and not be the one standing next to you.” his lock onto yours.

you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you’re not sure whether to be shocked or relieved that he’s finally saying this. all the years of hints, all the quiet moments between you two, all of it makes sense now.

“i’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but i was too afraid,” he confesses, his voice breaking slightly. “i that it would ruin everything. that maybe you wouldn’t feel the same way, or worse—that it would destroy our friendship. but i can’t keep denying it. i’m… in love with you, y/n. and have been for so long, and i can’t pretend i’m okay with the idea of you being with anyone else.”

for a moment, you’re speechless, processing the weight of his words. years of feelings, years of quiet longing—suddenly all of it is out in the open, and it feels both overwhelming and relieving at the same time.

you swallow, your voice barely above a whisper as you look at him. “jisung… i never wanted anyone else. i don’t think i ever did. i’ve been scared too. scared of ruining what we had, scared that you wouldn’t feel the same. but… i feel the same way.”

his eyes widen at your confession, and something in him shifts. like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. his shoulders slump, a sense of relief settling over him.

“really?” he asks, as if he can’t believe you’re saying it too.

you nod, voice steadier now. “i never wanted to go out with anyone else. but i was too scared to risk what we had. i didn’t know how to tell you i… felt the same. i wanted to be with you, but i couldn’t say it.”

jisung ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath he’s held too long. his expression softens, and he moves closer, hand gently touching yours, hesitant but tender.

“so… we’re both idiots then, huh?” he says with a nervous laugh, the humor light but relieved. “all this time… and we were both too scared to admit it.”

you laugh, the tension breaking. “yeah. but i think we’re finally getting it right.”

his smile is genuine, the softest you’ve ever seen. “so…will you be my valentine?”

you squeeze his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “well… only because i don’t have anyone else that asked,” and maybe, just maybe, i’ll let you take me out on a real date. not because of a stupid bet, but because i want to be with you.”

his eyes light up and he chuckles at your words. he smiles softly, cheeks a little rosy. “that sounds perfect.”

and just like that, all the hesitation, all the silent feelings, fade away. you’re both free from the weight of denial, starting something new. together.

and in your book, you still won’t the bet. you knew you weren’t gonna pay for the dinner from the start, and you were right. you also got the best valentine, and soon boyfriend, anyone scouts ever ask for.

—

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~ THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffck @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yomaman @yukisroom97

(i’m sorry this one’s a little late you guys)

[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[caprisunr]

"I think you're cautious because you have more to give than you think anyone can take." Kim said this to Eddie and it struck to me because he IS someone who is heedful — time again and again we see the patterns of his careful personality.

But I don't think her statement is entirely correct. Specially taking into account that Eddie gave Buck everything he had which is Christopher after only knowing him for a couple of months (year at most), and let him inside his world unapologetically. Buck was there to drive him to Christopher during the earthquake, just as he was there with Eddie when Pepa called him into the hospital, in the same way that he was there when Eddie was packing for Texas for his father's retirement party, as when Christopher left for Texas with Helena and Ramon.

Eddie might not be actively aware that there is someone who can take it all and still decide he is worth staying for—or how easy it is when it's Buck he's giving that part of himself to.

Buck is the first person he called when Christopher wouldn't talk to him and locked him out of his room. In the same way that Buck was Chris' when he ran away from home to find solace. —And Christopher, even if unconsciously, seems to have an understanding of what makes him and his father special to Buck in different capacities: He is the person he reaches out to in front of his father's breakdown (instead of 911.) And at the same time doesn't call out to when he finds Eddie with his mother's doppelganger. He knows he wouldn't be able to scape one without the other following suit right after.

And Eddie has been so fixated on finding the most perfect, sensitive, eligible mother; but not partner. Because this isn't about Eddie wanting to date more than it is about him needing to fix Christopher's life and put everything back where it 'belongs'. Yet, we can't betray ourselves without our true desires slipping. Eddie always finds excuses to distance himself emotionally from the women he is with, and never allows himself to embrace the relationship long-term. He is never 100% invested —He wasn't with Ana, and he wasn't with Marisol.

A Shannon replacement is imposible to replicate; They were best friends before, grew to love each other—and the baby. They knew their weak points, even though they had been separated for years. It was a relationship where both of them were faltering reflection of the other. It was faulty, and recriminatory, and built on the deceit of first love. But also a place where Eddie felt seen, loved, and accepted, probably for the first time. Eddie saw Shannon as an escape from his parents who clearly held a grudge and disapproved of her.

And he keeps dating woman who are perfect, whom his parents would love and approve, who would love Christopher just as much as he does. —But it's not enough. Because they can be motherly but they cannot be Shannon; The person who broke him out of his shelve, who loved him, who gave him Christopher, who put him in his place, who called out his avoidant tendencies, who fleed when things got comfortable to take care of her drying mother, who came back into his life later and asked for divorce the day before she died.

He deluded himself enough with Kim until he realised she could never be Shannon. Kim was only but the shell of this person that he doesn't know.

Except. Well. Eddie does have that already in his life. So maybe the issue is not so much not being able to replace Shannon. But the fact that the space is already filled by someone else. —Someone who challenged him, broke him out of his shelve by asking about his son. He already has someone who looks out for Christopher; who listens to his quirks and worries—but mostly answers to every single one of them, treats him as an equal, thinks about in his spare time. He already has someone who he confides in to put in his will. He has someone who calls him out when he's out of place with a bunch of 'that's not how you talk about someone you're in love with' and 'I'm worried about you' and 'I could've talked some sense into you'. He has someone who is willing to step in in every way that matters and who owns up to it. Eddie has someone in his life who also died, woke up—this time; and chose to stay right where he was.

Eddie feels suffocated and looks to flee, because there's too much people. And it's simple really; Those hers aren't him. He is looking for a mother, and he is aware that nobody could replace Shannon—we see that in how he looks for people opposite to her. But Is he conscious that none of them can sweep the traces of Buck's fingertips all over his life, either?

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

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Silent Conversations

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — After living in Madrid for nearly a year, Jude's gotten the hang of spanish. So he never thought he’d have to learn a new language just to flirt with someone—until he meets you.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x Deaf!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 9.7k

Warnings! FLUFF!! Jude is kind of obsessed with you in the best way, lover boy, you're very adorable in this one, reader speaks but can't hear, reader can read lips,

Preview

********** Being deaf and a chatterbox is a contradiction that most people don’t know how to wrap their heads around.

But it’s who you are.

Since you can remember, you've always loved to talk—loved filling spaces with words, with thoughts, with laughter. Being deaf has never stopped you. If anything, it’s only made you more creative in how you communicate.

People underestimate how much talking you can do with your hands, how much personality you can pour into a single sign, a raised brow, a quick smirk. They think "talking" only means sound, that conversations without voices are somehow lesser, as if the absence of noise makes words any less real. You’ve spent your whole life proving them wrong.

And tonight is no different.

Your little brother practically vibrates with excitement next to you, hands flying as he signs about how insane the game was. He’s been a Real Madrid fan for as long as he’s been able to walk, and your parents had gone all out for his birthday—jerseys, meet&greet tickets, the whole experience.

So far, the night has been going well.

Your family has been cheering and chanting for Real Madrid alongside the thousands of other fans packed into the stadium, their voices blending into the electric hum of excitement that fills the air. The game has been nothing short of exhilarating, each pass, each near goal sending waves of emotion through the crowd.

Your hands ache from the number of times you’ve signed to your brother, asking for updates on what’s happening when the movements on the field become too chaotic to follow. He’s been patient, grinning as he translates key moments for you, his enthusiasm infectious.

When the final whistle blows, confirming Real Madrid’s victory, the stadium erupts into cheers. Your family is ecstatic, jumping to their feet and embracing one another in celebration. You smile, soaking in the energy, but exhaustion is already creeping in. The weight of tomorrow morning sits heavily on your shoulders.

You love nights like this—love the way your father’s face lights up after a good match, love the way your younger cousins beam with pride, shouting the players’ names like they know them personally—but you can’t afford to linger. Not when your boss expects you bright-eyed and fully alert at the crack of dawn.

You sigh, glancing at the time. If you leave now, you’ll get home at a decent hour, and maybe you'll get six hours in tonight. I should go, you sign to your brother.

He frowns. So soon?  

"I have work in the morning."  

He relays this to the rest of your family, and they groan in unison. Your mother reaches out, squeezing your arm in understanding. "Text us when you get home," you read on her lips.

You nod, exchanging quick hugs before making your way toward the exit.

The corridors are still crowded with lingering fans, some of them stopping to take pictures or rewatch highlights on their phones. You weave through them, emerging into the crisp night air just outside the stadium, and pull out your phone to call for an Uber.

Five minutes.

Not too bad.

You exhale, shoving your free hand into the pocket of your jacket as you make your way toward the designated pick-up area near the parking lot. Your feet ache slightly from standing for so long, and the cool breeze is a welcome relief after being surrounded by so much body heat. You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, debating whether to pass the time by answering a few messages or just watching the people around you.

That’s when you feel it.

A presence.

It’s subtle at first—a shift in the atmosphere, a slight prickling at the back of your neck. Then, footsteps. Slow. Unsteady.

You look up just in time to see him stumbling toward you.

The acrid scent of alcohol hits you first. It’s overpowering, the kind of stench that clings to a person’s skin and clothes, the kind that makes your stomach churn. He’s disheveled, his jacket slipping off one shoulder, his eyes unfocused. But there’s something sharp in the way he grins at you, something that immediately puts you on edge.

"Hey," he slurs.

Your grip tightens around your phone. You don't respond. Instead, you take a step back, angling your body away from him. But before you can put more distance between you, his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength.

"I'm talking to you, you little bitch!"

Panic spikes through you like ice water.

Your breath hitches, your heart hammering as you instinctively jerk back, trying to free yourself from his grasp. Your hands move on their own, the motions quick, desperate. Leave me alone.  

The man’s face scrunches in confusion. "What? What are you doin' with your hands?"

You swallow hard, pulse racing. You try again, this time forcing yourself to speak, hoping the sounds come out right. "I can't hear you. I'm deaf."

His expression twists into something cruel. "Deaf?" He laughs, loud and mean. "You serious?" His grip tightens. "C'mon, don’t be like that. Just talk to me.I can show you a good time."

Your throat constricts. You shake your head quickly, signing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, over and over, even though you know there’s nothing to apologize for. It’s just instinct. A plea for him to stop, to let go.

But he doesn’t. If anything, your silence only makes him angrier.

"Stop doin' that shit!" he snaps. "Just say something!"

Before you can react, before the panic fully settles into terror, a shadow moves behind him. Fast. Deliberate. A hand clamps down on his shoulder, yanking him backward with enough force that he nearly loses his balance.

"That’s enough, mate." The voice is low, firm. Unmistakably authoritative.

The drunk stumbles, blinking in confusion as he turns to face whoever pulled him away. And that’s when you see him.

Jude Bellingham.

He’s taller than you expected, broader too, his frame imposing even in casual clothes. His coils are damp, like he just stepped out of the showers, and there’s an undeniable exhaustion in his features—deep shadows under his eyes, a certain heaviness to the way he holds himself.

But none of that matters right now. Right now, his entire focus is on the man in front of him, his jaw tight with barely contained irritation.

The drunk sneers. "Who the fuck—"

"Walk away," Jude says flatly.

The man wobbles slightly, his mind struggling to catch up as he starts recognizes Jude. His eyes widen. "I was just—"

"I don’t care." Jude’s voice is sharper now, cutting through the drunken haze like a blade. "She’s not interested. Walk away."

There’s a moment of hesitation. A beat where the drunk seems to consider whether or not this is a fight worth picking. He glances between you and Jude, his lip curling in annoyance, before finally, begrudgingly, releasing a scoff.

"Whatever," he mutters, stumbling back. "Wasn’t even worth it."

You don’t breathe until he’s gone.

The moment he disappears into the crowd, your entire body sags, tension draining so quickly that your knees feel weak. You swallow, pressing a hand to your chest in an attempt to steady yourself.

Jude turns to you then, his brows knitting together in concern. "You alright?"

You nod automatically, even though you’re not entirely sure it’s true. Your hands tremble slightly as you sign, Thank you.

Jude watches your hands carefully, and your gaze shifts to his lips expecting him to say something next—to offer words you wouldn't be able to hear. Instead, he hesitates, then lifts his hands.

You… okay? The sign is clumsy, the movements stiff, but the effort makes your heart stop.

He had recognized what you were signing before. He had understood. you think.

You nodded, your throat tight with gratitude. He relaxed a little at your response, but still glanced around, protective. "You waiting on someone?" His lips move slower this time, giving you a chance to read them.

You nod again, holding up your phone. "Uber." The words come out in a bit of a slur but he understands them.

Jude frowns, looking at your screen. "Two minutes?"

He must have seen the time displayed on your phone because there’s no way he could’ve understood the tone of your nod. "Yeah."

The way he scowls in response makes you think that’s not an acceptable answer. His eyes shift, scanning the parking lot, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. "Look, you want to wait inside? The security team can keep an eye on you till your Uber arrives."

His concern is sweet, and you find yourself nodding before you can think. "Okay. Thank you."

You let him lead you back to the main building, where there’s a security team waiting by the entrance. He explains your situation, and they offer you a smile. They won't let you stay inside the stadium since the game has already ended, but they’re willing to stand outside with you until your car arrives.

You nod in gratitude and wave a goodbye as Jude makes to leave. You expect him to keep going, to be on his way, but instead, he hesitates. For a second, he just looks at you, as if deciding something, but he shakes his head, offering a quick smile as he slips away into the night.

The security team stays with you the whole time. They make sure you’re safe and wave down your Uber when it arrives. You thank them and climb into your car, making your way home.

That’s it, you think. That’s where the story ends.

But it’s only the beginning.

**********

-Bianca🌻

[blitzynatural]

SWEET LIKE A PASTRY

Belated FLUFFEBRUARY DAY 7 - LOVE NOTES/LETTERS

@bucktommyfluffebruary

Read on ao3

FLUFFEBRUARY DAY 7 - LOVE NOTES/LETTERS

 

“Kinard! Someone dropped this off for you.” 

Tommy had barely just made it out of the chopper when one of his team members gleefully called him over to the communal table and gestured at a paper bag he recognized coming from one of his favorite coffee places. His heart skipped a few beats and he could feel his face flush. Evan had been here. Evan who he hadn't seen since they had parted ways the previous night the day after Howie and Maddie's wedding. 

“Was it the boyfriend?” Lucy trots past Tommy from where she had followed him after exiting the chopper with him. “Oooh, what was he like? Was he cute?” 

Tommy rolls his eyes fondly. He has been keeping things on the down-low when it came to Evan as they were still in the early stages of dating, much to the dismay of his nosy coworkers. 

“How long ago was this?” He asks, ignoring the bombarding of questions coming from Lucy. He sits down and pulls the paper bag towards him, immediately feeling the delicious scent of a freshly baked pastry hitting his nostrils and summoning his hunger for something sweet. 

“Must have been about half-an hour ago,” Holler responds. “There is something familiar about him. What station did you say he was from again?” 

“I didn't,” Tommy deadpans. He grins in amusement. “That was a smooth attempt though. A for effort.” 

“Ugh! Why won't you tell us anything? You suck,” Lucy complains and turns to look at Holler accusingly. “Tell me you got a picture! Or a name at least.” 

Holler shakes his head. “Nah! But he left a note! It's right there. Very cheesy, but–” 

“You read my note? Damnit, Holler, you nosy dog.” Tommy shakes his head and reaches for the note. He recognizes Evan's hand writing as he reads: 

A hard-working man such as yourself deserves a sweet treat. Think of me when you bite into it. I bought it with extra care. ♡ - Your E. 

P.S I made sure they got the coffee order right this time. 

P.S Again. If you notice there is a hoodie missing from your locker, it's all in your imagination. 

The last part had been added and scribbled with an extra pen, it seemed. Regardless, the note made Tommy heat up a little but he puts his mask on by clearing his throat and folds the note before he tucks it into his pocket. 

“Holler”, he says, eyes scanning the table. “Where is the coffee?” 

His team mate swallows. “Uh, coffee? I see no coffee. There was no coffee.” 

“Really, Holler?”

“It was getting cold! It would be such a waste of coffee. But it was really good.” 

Tommy sighs and shakes his head. “Well then. I'll give Evan your heartfelt thanks for the coffee for you,” he says and fishes out his phone from his pocket. 

“Evan! Ha! We got a name!” 

“I've never hidden his name, Lucy.”

“I am serious about him looking familiar though,” Holler says. “I know I've seen him somewhere before. I can't recall where or when, but he's got a very distinct birthmark on his eyebrow so I know I've seen him somewhere.”  

Tommy wasn't surprised by that. Evan was known to be a danger magnet and to be the talk of LAFD stations. 

“That sounds like Buckley”, Lucy says casually. “But he is as straight as they come, there's no way–” 

“Buckley! The guy who got crushed under the fire engine! That was him! Oh thank God, now I don't have to stay up thinking about where I've seen him!” Holler exclaims. 

“Wai- Buck? You are dating Buck?” Lucy turns to Tommy who is silently munching on his pastry by now while the other two are speculating. Of course he finds this amusing, and he really doesn't have a reason to hide who he is dating by now. Evan has already told him that he is fine with people outside the 118 knowing about him. That and the fact that he had left a sweet little note for all of 217 to see directed to him made Tommy all the more confident about that.

“Buckley?! Really, Kinard? You are da- wow. Okay.” 

Tommy shrugs and holds back a smile. “He told me you used to work at their station.” 

“So he's not straight.”

“I'm pretty sure he isn't,��� Tommy muses. 

“Well, good for you, Kinard! What an upgrade for him! I approve.”

"Thanks?” 

“Tell him hi from me, will you?” 

“Of Course.”

[8-rae-rae-8]

Hii!! Fic request if they are still open! (I see it says open but I’ll overthink it regardless)

CG: John Price

Little: John “Soap” MacTavish (with maybe the others being side character littles in the background)

Classification AU

What if Price was the mama/dada/bubba(or anything else) to Ghost and Gaz, but Soap already had a CG when he joined the Task Force. But the more and more Price talks and hears Soap talk about his CG, the more he realizes the relationship really isn’t… healthy. Instead of facing Soap head on about the problem, he does what he does best, be the caregiver Soap actually needed. The one that did listen to him and all his questions, was interested whenever he showed off his toys one by one, but more importantly, he actually took care of him just like he did for Ghost and Gaz.

I hope this is something you may be interested in writing!! Thank you if you do or do not regardless!

This is actually canon to me (and my anons) classification AU,,,, anon how did you know

I will say that I cannot write it at the moment and I've felt so bad keeping it in my inbox 😭😭 JUST KNOW THAT IVE BEEN THINKING A LOT ABOUT IT

This idea is almost exactly the same to the one my anons and I yap about in our server,, 👀👀

I'll give you a short ramble about it 🫶 since I've got nothing else in my brain. It's like the DVD logo bouncing back and forth in there

It's not a mystery that something is off in Johnny's life. Like the others, getting Soap to open up is a big deal. It takes time, months, to trust anyone with such sensitive things. The smallest mentions of hurt send Price's Caregiver instincts through the roof. It's always an off comment about nothing in particular, but it catches in John's brain to never be forgotten.

He'd never force any of his Littles to talk about anything they don't want to. Kyle came to him, and it felt like Johnny always stood just out of reach. Simon.. he's still getting there. He's a good mama, Kyle says so—He prides himself on that. Being good for his boys.

And seeing Johnny, standing just past the doorway with sad eyes, as Kyle cuddles up to him breaks his heart. The Little is missing something, he can tell that much. What Johnny's missing, though, he doesn't say. He can invite him over a million times, but he only shuffles away and seems to hide.

The tears in his blue eyes remind him of the ocean, a harsh, unstoppable force. There's not many times Johnny ever let Price be there for him, not at the beginning at least. It was scary for someone so small to look up and ask for help he knows he may not ever get. He can't dry the tears that keep falling when Johnny keeps pushing him away.

It's always something about how his Caregiver would be upset. But it doesn't sit right in John's stomach. Something about that is wrong. Why would a Caregiver be upset about their little getting help? Like a parent getting angry when someone comforts their kid. It's the same situation, but wrapped with a different bow.

He's still hesitant now, scared to step into John's space, especially if Kyle was next to him, or just small in any capacity. But sometimes, just sometimes, he'll stumble into Price's lap and let him wipe away the tears.

Each confession that falls from his quivering lips feels like another stab in his chest. Everything from Johnny not wanting to go home, to broken cries that 'it's gonna hurt'. Whatever it is, the captain wants to destroy it.

All he can do is be there, rock Johnny in his arms while the Little cries and cries over a monster Price can't get his hands on. There's nothing he can do right now, not with Johnny in his lap—everything he could do required accessing Soap's file, and working for ages to find whatever monster was making this Little wail for something to protect him.

That night, when he cradled Johnny in his arms before bed, he promised to make it better. He kissed his forehead and promised. He'll be there, he'll make the hurt go away. He'll clean each wound and kiss the owies until they're all better.

And for the first time in a while, he didn't hear Johnny cry from the next room over.

It goes like that for a while. A crash, a drop, a panic attack. And John's always there. He always will be. Even as his nights are spent trying to figure out ways to get a monster out of his Little's life. He's the blanket of safety Johnny's been needing his entire life. He'll be that for all three of them.

There's days where things are extra difficult, where John has to blink away his own tears as Johnny talks about how he didn't get to eat the last time he saw his Caregiver because he was bad. He talks about it like it's the most normal thing on earth...

But, there's also days where he wakes up to hear Johnny and Kyle giggling together at whatever they're doing—Watching something on TV, or playing with toys... Price didn't realize how many dinosaur toys they had until they all were suddenly out in the middle of the floor.

But it heals his heart a little, and he knows it does the same for Johnny. Even if there's still a long road ahead.

[gurlwhaaa]

"and I still talk to you, when I'm screaming at the sky". pt.3 Geto Suguru x reader

read the first 2 parts before this if you haven't! <3 ______________________________________________________________

you reached home soaked in your tears and rain water. you wanted to forgive him but, how could you? he was unforgivable. he chose to be unforgivable.

you got out of your wet clothes and replaced them with the softest pajamas you could find. Suguru really liked them, you thought. you weren't going to let the memory of someone ruin your favorite things.

you replayed your interaction with Suguru. you couldn't stop. there was a feeling in your chest. the kind of feeling when you're missing someone. a kind of emptiness where you feel something sucking in.

was he trying to fix things? did he realize that this was unfixable? you wish it was. you wish you didn't hate him. you wish you didn't love him. you wish you hadn't loved him.

you got in bed. mind full with unorganized thoughts. he never let you sleep with something in your mind, you thought wistfully. you closed your eyes making the tears spill out once more. ______________________________________________________________

12:12 read the watch sitting on your bedside table. you had suddenly opened your eyes due to a sound that's source you couldn't figure out the first time until you heard it again. RING

it was your doorbell. who could it be at this time of the night? Satoru? you didn't think it was likely for him to come especially this late, when he had Suguru's company.

you got up drowsily and, unlocked the door. as you opened, you saw a very familiar figure. Suguru. "what are you doing here?!" you about screamed. you stood there in disbelief, waiting for him to answer. he parted his mouth but, no words came out.

"well- uhh-" he started. he didn't need to finish his sentence. you already knew. but, you wanted to hear it from him. "c-can I-" your expression softened. "are you having nightmares again?" you asked, this time softly. he nodded.

"please?" he pleaded. you opened the door wider to let him in. "this doesn't mean we're friends." you clarified. "wouldn't mistake it" he replied. you led him to your bedroom. you got in and he followed. it was nothing sexual.

you let him sleep the night for, it was you who consoled him when he had nightmares only a few years back.

you faced your back at him. you knew he wanted to hug you tight. you knew he wanted you to hug him. you hated him but, you still had a heart. so, reluctantly, you turned around and wrapped your arms around him. "thank you" he mumbled as he wrapped his shaking arms around you.

you ran your hand through his hair as a gesture of comforting him. "do you think you'll ever forgive me?" he asked, breaking the silence. you let out a sigh, "no, I don't know."

"I'll still keep trying." he assured. "you know what you did was unforgivable, Suguru." "you know that I still love you, and why would I give up on someone I love?" he questioned.

"you already gave me up. you clearly didn't love me enough to stay." your voice raised slightly. "I did what I had to do." he'd already lost the argument. "are you here to sleep or to try lure me back because I'm wrapped around your fingers huh?" you asked.

"I wouldn't stoop that low." he replied. "I think you would." you turned around facing your back to him, again as your arms left him. his hands were still clutched around your waist.

after a while, you felt his grip loosen. he probably had fallen asleep. you felt his face against your back. you turned around and distanced yourself. he had his hair down and free which was unlikely of him, as he would never sleep with his hair down.

you got up a got a rubber band. you gently pulled his hair back and lightly tied it. the pale moonlight fell on his face. he looked.. beautiful. you weren't thinking as you caressed his face, his hair, your finger dropped to his lips.

you weren't thinking as you leaned in, to kiss his lips. it was all you wanted to do, until, you felt him kiss back. he was awake?! you broke it off. embarrassed, you scattered back as you saw his eyes opening. he looked innocent, like a child. but he wasn't innocent, you remembered.

"s-sorry" you apologized. "I didn't mind it." he reassured. he sat up. "were you pretending to sleep?" you asked. "no. I woke up when you tied my hair." shit. you forgot that he sleeps light. "I'm sorry." you apologized again. "got carried away with my pretty face?" he smirked.

"oh shut up" you said as you lied down again with your blanket covering your face and, once again, your back facing him. you could feel him lie down too.

minutes passed, you couldn't sleep.

"you aren't asleep." he guessed. "I'm not." you replied. "do you still love me?" he asked. "I'm not answering that", was your reply. "you still do. you still think of me. you still want to kiss me." he said, this time with all seriousness.

"it was one time. I got carried away." you wanted to cry. "what if you could get carried away more than one time without having to say sorry?" "but, that would mean forgiving you Suguru and, I'm not doing that anytime soon."

"you don't have to forgive me, you just have to try me again." he corrected. you had turned towards him. "but, what if, I forgive you if I try you once again?" you questioned. "then I will be forgiven."

you stared into him for a while and he did the same. you gave in. you leaned in and met his lips with yours. he reciprocated. hands entangled on each other.

"thank you" he murmured between kisses. "I hate you" you replied. the future may be unknown but, if you didn't give it a shot, you will never know how it ends.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Lais!! I'm SO sorry this took me such a long time to get to read!! It was totally my loss - because this was amazing! I've been wanting to read it since you posted it! 😩 But life has been ridiculous and I've been knocked tf out by Covid for about a week and a half!

I'm starting to do better, much less dizzy and feverish, so I can actually sit up and concentrate on a screen without feeling like I'm gonna pass out. 😞

Anyway, this story was definitely my treat for getting through Covid once again! It was amazing! And I absolutely loved it! Bunch of my rambling thoughts below. 😁❤️

The feeling of Dean’s warm, big hand around hers brought a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a while. Even if she didn’t know he was Sam’s brother, Dean would be a person she would trust immediately. He just had that aura.

He does just give that aura, I can't imagine anyone not being made to feel utterly safe with Dean nearby! 😍

She didn’t think she’d ever met someone as handsome as Sam’s brother. He looked like he came directly from the pages of a magazine, a Hollywood movie or something. In his jeans and a worn-out oversized leather jacket, he was simply stunning. She couldn’t help but avert his piercing gaze, feeling suddenly shy with the intensity of it.

I'm still not sure how anyone ever exists in a normal day-to-day existence with this man around! I think of all the things in the show that force the audience to suspend their belief, the idea that people can just continue to function normally with Dean right beside them is the hardest to swallow. 😁

“Ugh”, she complained, getting on her tiptoes so she could search inside a high cupboard, “I could’ve sworn those plates were somewhere in here”.

😄 I feel her short person's frustration.

“I said you’re nice, smart and handsome, but I forgot the most important part: you’re funny too!”, she exclaimed, playfully punching his arm.

A very important part of Dean's overall appeal actually. In the show people are always giving him looks to say like, 🙄 "That wasn't funny." or just being like 😒. But I always think he's funny! He doesn't get enough credit for his sense of humour! ❤️

...He texted me back ‘can’t make it, stuck at work’”, she chuckled, humorlessly. “The bastard didn’t even say he was sorry. So I paid him the same respect he paid me. I texted back, saying he shouldn’t bother showing up ever again, that I didn’t wanna see his face and it was all over between us. He never answered”, Maisie finished, taking a deep breath.

Hooray!! Way to go, Maisie! Though, I worry for her. I have a feeling he isn't going to accept that graciously! 😬

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his face, and Dean slid his hand to the small of her back, supporting her and bringing her close to his body, when- The sound of a loud honk startled them both, pulling them out of their lust haze.

I knew it!! If I didn't already hate him, I sure as hell hate him for interrupting that kiss!! 😡

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me, bitch!”, he yelled, his grip making it impossible for her to free herself of his hold.

From "darling" to "bitch" in two seconds flat. What a friggin' charmer this guy is!! 😡

“I want this to happen, whatever this is, between you and me. I want… to get to know you. If you want to, that is. But I need to make sure it has nothing to do with Eric. With me being in need of comfort, or company, or about you protecting me from him - which I’m thankful for, by the way.

VERY smart thinking on her part, very logical. Yet, I fear that could never be me. 😄 I don't think I'd ever have the willpower. She's absolutely right though. Gotta be sure, don't wanna ruin something so perfect just cause she got the timing wrong. ❤️

He quickly recovered, placing a hand on her cheek, deepening the kiss a little and guiding her into it, sliding his lower lip over hers and lightly sucking it.

“Yeah”, Sam let out a deep sigh and shook his head. “Eric broke in early in the morning, Maisie was still sleeping. He was drunk and screaming that they should get back together. She said no and told him to leave, so he started to lock all the doors and windows to stop her from escaping.

How completely terrifying!! 🥺🥺

She’d just been through a terrible trauma and, as a pro at avoiding feelings and acting like nothing wrong had happened, Dean knew exactly what she was doing.

I love him for that. ❤️❤️ It's exactly the kind of good man he is. But also - 😩 I feel for Maisie!! There's so much delicious tension here between them! It's so palpable! 🥵🥵

It also helped that I’m much taller than him”, he smirked, making Dean chuckle.

😄😄 Sam!! I love him!

“Take your shirt off, Dean”, she demanded, and he quickly obeyed. Maisie stared at him towering over her, his toned body looking godly under the dim lights of the room.

Oh my god!! That is the dream!! Dean Winchester mostly naked (okay, totally naked is better) and towering above me. 🥵🥵

“Tell me, Dean”, Maisie encouraged him, wanting to hear more of that deep, sexy voice of his saying dirty things to her.

Don't we all! Dean Winchester talking dirty is the hottest porn EVER!! 🥵🥵

Maisie was not happy with the fact that he didn’t look for Dean, and she had a suspicion that was the reason they fought.

You an me both, Mais! That was the only thing Sam ever did that TRULY pissed me off. I was very glad that he eventually admitted how wrong it had been and told Dean how sorry he was for it. Like, Dean, I forgave him, but I was SO mad!

I'm so interested to see how he's going to be with her!

“I- I love you too, Maisie. I didn’t realize how much until I couldn’t be with you”.

Yes!!!!! They admitted it! I was so worried too much time was going to have passed, or he was going to be too different, or something. But I'm SO happy that he just needed to get home to her!! ❤️

Dean watches as Lily’s eyelids got heavier and heavier as he finishes the story. When she finally falls asleep, her little hand still holding his thumb tightly, he gently pushes her hair, as dark as her mom’s, out of her face. His movements are delicate, but she opens her big green eyes that look so much like his, and stares at him briefly, before falling asleep again.

Dean as a girl dad is my ultimate happy headcanon! I just think he'd be an amazing Dad, period - but to a little girl?!!! A little girl with dark hair and green eyes?!! I'm gone! 😍😍

“Just for two or three minutes. I arrived when you were telling her about how you fell in love with me from the first time you saw me”, she revealed, looking up at him and blushing.

Okay, I absolutely LOVE that he was telling Lily their love story! 😍🥹

Once she’s old enough, she’s gonna know how her dad went through hell and Purgatory, and how her mom was the reason he came back every time.

All. the. tears. 😭😭😭

Astounding!! This story was so sweet and full. I love all the details, I love the way their love is both immediate and blooming. Like, they know immediately that it's something special, but they both work hard to make sure the moment is right for them. Like, I said, I love that they neither of them wants to blow it by starting something so perfect before it's the perfect time for them too.

I'm so happy for their happy ending! I loved this, my friend! Again, I'm so sorry it took me SO long to have the chance to read it! Rest assured, I'll be reading it again!! ❤️❤️

Dean x OFC: Short and Sweet

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Maisie (OFC)

Warnings: +18. Trigger warnings: Abusive relationship. Emotional negligence. Physical abuse. OFC’s boyfriend is a jackass. Smut. P in V. Unprotected sex (it’s fiction, people). Porn but also fluff and romantic, because it’s me.

Summary: When Dean was introduced to one of Sam’s old friends from Stanford, he didn’t expect his whole world to change.

Word count: ~15K (I’M SO SORRY, IT’S BEEN TOO LONG SINCE I WROTE SOMETHING, OKAY)

A/N 1: This story is set during the first seasons, probably around year 4. Don’t know exactly how long it would’ve taken Sam to finish Stanford, but I believe it would be around four years, so let’s imagine the brothers are young. Dean’s behavior in the beginning is also more like in the first seasons, so bear with me.

A/N 2: I have my very first original character! That’s scary. The image of her came to my mind so clearly, I couldn’t just ignore it. I kept writing and imagining her, it couldn’t be Y/N this time. It sucks that I can’t draw a straight line to save my life, ‘cause I wanted so badly to draw her so you guys can see her the way I do!

Anyways, I hope this story doesn’t suck too much. I wrote three versions of it before deciding this one was the best way to tell it.

A/N 3: I started writing this fic in May, 2022, and could only finish it now. The plan was to post it on Dean’s birthday, but it wasn’t possible, unfortunately. Life has been chill lol.

Enjoy the reading and don’t forget to leave feedback!

MASTERLIST

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The first time Dean saw her, was in a picture. The corners of the photo were in shreds; it was folded in the middle, forever creased from being kept inside Sam’s wallet for so long. Despite its poor state, Dean would never forget it.

"Hey, Dean", Sam had called.

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about going to a party?"

Dean, who had been searching for a clean shirt in his duffel bag, immediately stopped what he was doing, turning around and staring at his younger brother.

"Excuse me? Are you feeling ok?", he asked, brow raised.

"Seriously, dude”, Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “It's a friend's party", he let his arms fall on his sides, exasperated.

"What friend? You don't have any friends", Dean mocked.

"I do, actually. This is Maisie", he extended the crumpled photo to Dean. It showed a younger Sam during his Stanford era, standing next to Jessica and another girl, whom Sam was pointing at. "I met her in college. She's graduating now, so she invited me over for a party at her house. She knows we’re in California".

Dean looked at the picture with growing interest. The younger version of Sam was smiling in the photo, with Jessica standing between him and the other girl. Sam had his arm around Jess’ shoulders, and the girl had her arm linked with the blonde’s. They were all smiling. Maisie, Sam said that was the girl’s name. She had brown hair, styled in a pixie cut that gave her an edgy look. Her big, rounded eyes were brown too. Her cheeks were flushed and her captivating smile reached her eyes. It wasn’t a full body picture, but Dean could tell the girl was short, because Jessica was way taller than her.

"She's cute”, he elbowed Sam. “Is she single?”

"Dude, no. She has a boyfriend, but he’s a douchebag. His name’s Eric and they met in Stanford too". Sam shrugged, making a disgusted face.

"Huh. And what's so special about her that makes you want to go to her party?". Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest, ready to hear the answer.

"Maisie’s the nicest girl, Dean. She introduced me to Jess. They were friends first, I met her and then it was the three of us against the world”, Sam smiled, reminiscing about a special time of his life. “I miss her a lot. Remember I went to a friend’s parents’ funeral, like, two years ago? It was her mom and dad. Poor girl’s been through hell. Also… she knows about what we do", Sam said, grimacing and lowering his voice, as if he was confessing a crime.

"What?", Dean was surprised with the fact that Sam told someone about their biggest secret.

"I helped her with a witch once. She hid hex bags all over Maisie’s dorm. That’s how we met, actually. So I ended up telling her", he shrugged.

"Oh, well, one day you’re gonna have to tell me the whole story of the witch of Stanford. Anyways, I didn't know you were still in touch with people from college", Dean stated.

Sam sighed. "Actually, Maisie’s the only one I still talk to. But, look, Dean, if you don't wanna go, fine. I’ll go alone".

"Wait, who said I don't wanna go? Of course I wanna go! Hot chicks and free booze? When do we leave?", said Dean, rubbing his hands together and grinning.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

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The first time Dean saw her in person, he won’t forget either.

He and Sam arrived at Maisie’s when it was just getting dark. Her house was small but cozy looking, and the path leading to the spacious backyard was decorated with hanging light bulbs. Dean could hear voices and the clink of glasses, along with some music, coming from the back.

“This is the house her parents left for her”, Sam explained.

“How did they die?”, Dean asked, closing the Impala’s door and walking to his brother’s side.

“Car accident. Pretty awful”, Sam shook his head, pausing when he saw someone coming from the end of the lighted path as they stepped on the entryway.

Having heard the sound of the car, Maisie came to check. Dean was right: she was short. He found it cute. Her face lit up when she saw Sam and, as the old friends hugged, he couldn’t help but notice her toned, thick legs. She was wearing a light green summer dress with little white flowers drawn all over it, matched with a pair of white Chuck Taylors.

Don’t know why, but I already like everything about her, Dean thought, watching the girl with growing interest.

"I'm so glad you're here, Sam!", Maisie greeted, holding the younger Winchester’s hand.

"I'm glad to be here too, Maisie. Congratulations!", Sam gave her another quick side hug, making the girl smile grow wider.

"Thanks! I'm a lawyer now, so you know who to call if you ever need one", she winked at him, hinting at their little secret.

"Well, if he doesn't call you, I certainly will", Dean interrupted the friends’ conversation, since Sam hadn’t introduced him yet.

"Oh, sorry, this is my brother Dean. Dean, this is Maisie", Sam said, finally.

"Nice to meet you, Maisie", Dean shook her hand, eyes taking in her beautiful, soft features.

"Nice to meet you too, Dean. Sam told me a lot about you", she said, remembering all the times Sam mentioned his brother, always with love and admiration.

The feeling of Dean’s warm, big hand around hers brought a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a while. Even if she didn’t know he was Sam’s brother, Dean would be a person she would trust immediately. He just had that aura.

"Only good things, I hope", Dean joked, winking at her. He deliberately let his fingers linger a little, the softness of her skin drawing him in.

"Oh, yeah! You’re the best brother ever, apparently", she shot back, earning a grin from him.

"He's right about that", was Dean’s reply, and it made Maisie laugh. She didn’t think she’d ever met someone as handsome as Sam’s brother. He looked like he came directly from the pages of a magazine, a Hollywood movie or something. In his jeans and a worn-out oversized leather jacket, he was simply stunning. She couldn’t help but avert his piercing gaze, feeling suddenly shy with the intensity of it.

"So, Maisie, where's Eric?", Sam asked. Not that he cared about the guy; he was just asking because he knew Eric from before. It would be weird not to ask.

"Oh, he- uh, he had a work thing, so-", she tried to explain, tugging an invisible strand of hair behind her ear, nervously.

"He didn’t come", Sam finished, incredulous. Even though he was already familiar with the way Eric seemed to undervalue the important moments of Maisie’s life, he couldn’t help but hope the guy had finally changed.

Her eyes became teary, and Dean hated seeing her like this.

Noticing Dean’s gaze, she recomposed herself, chuckling humorlessly. "Yeah, you guessed it right. But it doesn’t matter, I’ve already dealt with that”. Without giving any more details, she clapped her hands together and looked from one brother to another, shoving the resentment over Eric’s actions down. “So, you guys want some beer?", she pointed over her shoulder to the inside of the house.

"I'm fine for now, thanks. I'm gonna go say hi to the rest of the gang", answered Sam, looking over his shoulder to the corner of the house, where he could see some of his old classmates among Maisie's guests hanging out in the backyard.

"I'll take that beer", said Dean. Not only he never said no to a beer before, but he also hoped to spend some time with her. For some reason, he took an immediate liking to Maisie. She seemed very nice. And she was pretty.

"Great! Come with me", she said, turning and gesturing for him to follow.

Once inside, Dean noticed right away that the outside of the house gave a perfectly good idea of how the inside looked. The place was cozy, small and neat. He didn’t remember ever being in a typical countryside home, but he was pretty sure it would look somewhat like Maisie’s home, maybe a little bigger.

He looked around while she opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles, opening them, giving one to Dean and leaning against the kitchen counter. When she led the bottle to her lips, Dean noticed that her right hand was bandaged.

"What happened to your hand, if you don't mind me asking?", he questioned, taking a sip of the cold beverage.

"Oh, I hurt it while I was hanging the lights. The ones at the entrance. Eric was supposed to help me but, as you know, he didn’t show up, so…", she left the sentence incomplete, shrugging as if it was nothing, but Dean could tell she was upset about it.

"It seems like your boyfriend is not very… present", he commented, trying to take it easy on his disapproving tone, but failing to do it.

"Yeah, you can say that", Maisie replied, her voice barely audible.

“Sorry about that”, Dean said and approached her, gently holding her hand and looking at the bandage, just to make sure she dressed the wound properly.

The girl felt her heart racing. She knew Dean and Sam got hurt a lot. Their job was scary and dangerous, so Dean was probably just seeing if she had taken good care of the wound. But that was exactly what made her heart skip a couple of beats. I mean, how sweet is it that he barely knows me and is being so nice already?, she thought.

Maisie felt an urge to get closer to him, to open her heart and let him in. The last time she did that was with Eric, and it hasn’t worked well. But, somehow, she knew Dean was different.

“I wish that was the worst thing he’d done”, she said, more to herself than to Dean.

“Sorry?”, Dean raised his head, still holding her hand.

“E- Eric, I mean. He also didn’t come to my parents’ funeral’, she explained, knowing it was too late to ask Dean to let it go. Might as well finish what I’ve started.

"Wow. I'm sorry, but that's fucked up, Maisie". A mixture of anger and pity, that was what Dean was feeling. Maisie was a good person, based on what Sam said. And even if she weren’t, what kind of boyfriend doesn't go to his girlfriend's parents' funeral?

"I'm sorry, Dean. I- I don't know why I said that out loud", she took her injured hand away from his and placed the tips of her fingers on her temples, rubbing lightly. She didn’t want his pity. She wasn’t sure of why she shared that particular story with him, but she was regretting it now.

"No, it's fine. It's not okay that he wasn't there. Or that he ain't here", he added, standing by her side and leaning against the counter too.

"Yeah. But it’s ok. Thanks for saying that, though. Should we go outside?", she asked and forced a smile, deciding it was best to enjoy the night and forget about things that weren’t as good as she wanted.

Dean shrugged. "I wouldn't mind staying here talking to you for a bit more, but yeah, let's go".

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Another thing Dean would never forget was how easy and fun that night was.

Most of it was because of Maisie. She was such a good hostess, always making sure people were comfortable, well fed and with their cups full.

Her guests involved some friends and former colleagues, along with two cousins; no more than a dozen people. Everyone was nice and friendly, and Dean could tell Sam was enjoying being amongst people he knew outside the hunting world. For a moment, his mind wandered: how would life be if they were normal, 20-something dudes? Would they go to a lot of parties? Would Sam and Jess be married by now?

Despite the wandering thoughts, Dean was having fun too. Maisie included him in every conversation. He was the outsider, after all. She sat by his side and touched his hand and arm often, not letting him close himself off or feel intimidated by the group of Stanford’s nerds, as she was calling her friends, which made Dean chuckle.

As the night went on, Dean felt more and more drawn to her. Hell, he knew getting involved with someone who was in what it seemed like a complicated relationship was the fastest way to walk right into a huge problem. But he couldn’t care less this time. He wanted Maisie, and he had a feeling she might want him too.

So Dean flirted with her a few times, trying not to be too obvious. He didn’t want her thinking he was just trying to get laid, because he wasn’t. His first goal was to make her feel wanted and valued. He had a feeling Eric didn’t do that very often.

When the pizzas she'd ordered arrived, he got up from his seat and offered to help bringing them to the backyard.

"Thanks, Dean", she smiled at him, accepting the offer and assessing his face, trying to understand why he was being so nice.

"No worries, sweetheart".

The endearment made her blush. Maisie was finding it hard to believe Dean was real. He was too handsome for his own good. From the freckled skin to the dark blonde hair and the green eyes, he was damn perfect. Plus, he was funny and nice to everyone. She was fascinated with him.

Deciding she might as well enjoy the attention she wasn’t used to getting, she hooked her arm in his and led him to the front yard, where the delivery guy was waiting.

They grabbed the pizzas and went inside the house again. Dean waited while Maisie was looking for some paper plates.

“Ugh”, she complained, getting on her tiptoes so she could search inside a high cupboard, “I could’ve sworn those plates were somewhere in here”.

Smiling at her efforts to reach a door that was way too high for her height, Dean walked to her, extending his arm and easily retrieving the plates and handing them to Maisie.

She smiled and crossed her arms in front of her chest, which made Dean stare at her boobs for like two seconds. He couldn’t really help himself. She didn’t seem to notice, and was faking annoyance with the fact that he was so much taller than her.

“That was a little humiliating, Winchester, but thanks for the help”, she joked, taking the plates and patting his arm lightly.

He laughed. “Sure. What kind of man would I be if I saw a pretty lady in distress and had done nothing about it?”, Dean teased a little more, making her smile widen.

“What a gentleman!”, Maisie shook her head, motioning for him to follow her outside.

In the backyard, they placed the pizzas on a table at the corner and Maisie gave each guest a plate, inviting them to help themselves to the food. She and Dean grabbed a slice each and went back to sit at their previous chairs.

“Tell me, Dean”, she started, after swallowing a considerably big bite of her slice, “how are you single?”.

He stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong”, she continued, noticing he was surprised with the sudden question. “You’re a nice, smart guy. You have a cool car - yes, I’ve seen her when you guys arrived, and Sam told me all about your Baby -,” she added when he smiled, pleased to know she noticed his most beloved possession, “and you’re obviously very good looking. And yet, you’re here, hanging out with your brother’s friend, in a party full of Law school nerds. Why aren’t you out there, at some cool bar, flirting with some tall, busty blonde?”. Maisie shook her head, honestly trying to find some explanation for why Dean was there, at her house, where he could literally be fooling around with any woman in town.

Dean chuckled, and Maisie found it cute how his ears turned red when she complimented him.

“Well, first of all, thanks. Second of all, don’t think so little of yourself. Sam told me you know what we do for a living”, he whispered the last part, getting closer to her, and his hot breath formed goosebumps on her skin. “So you also know we don’t usually go to normal parties. Fuck, who am I kidding? We never go to any party, period. That being said, it’s been fun hanging out with you and your friends. Especially with you. It’s nice to talk about normal stuff, being around normal people”, he shrugged, and she could see he was being honest. Maisie felt sorry for him. He had to face so many scary, dangerous things, and could never enjoy a break, something as simple as eating pizza and drinking beer with friends in the backyard.

“Also”, he continued talking, bringing her back from her thoughts, “I had my time with busty blondes in bars. Now I prefer to hang out with pretty girls who happen to have good taste in beer”. Dean winked at her, biting at his lower lip, gaze switching from her eyes to her lips, making Maisie feel her insides clench.

Damn, he’s hot, she thought.

“So, I guess the reason why I’m single, aside from the life I live, I mean, is that all the beautiful girls who just graduated are stuck with jerks for boyfriends”.

Maisie laughed, finding his unashamed flirtation amusing.

“I said you’re nice, smart and handsome, but I forgot the most important part: you’re funny too!”, she exclaimed, playfully punching his arm.

He smiled back, and she shook her head, looking down and becoming serious again.

“I broke up with Eric, Dean”, Maisie confessed, surprising Dean.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Earlier today, before you and Sam arrived, I texted him, because everyone else was already here, except for Eric. He texted me back ‘can’t make it, stuck at work’”, she chuckled, humorlessly. “The bastard didn’t even say he was sorry. So I paid him the same respect he paid me. I texted back, saying he shouldn’t bother showing up ever again, that I didn’t wanna see his face and it was all over between us. He never answered”, Maisie finished, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this, Maisie. But, for what’s worth, I think you did the right thing. He doesn’t deserve you”, Dean stated, green eyes staring into her dark ones, the intensity of his stare making her heart race.

“Our relationship was over way before today, to be honest. But thanks for saying that, Dean”.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart”.

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Around 11:30 P.M., people started to leave. Sam, Dean and one of Maisie’s cousins were the only ones still there.

Maisie was leaning against the table, chatting with her cousin and stealing glances at Sam and Dean. They were helping her put all the trash that was scattered around the backyard in a bag. Dean noticed she told something to the girl and pointed her chin in their direction, walking towards them a second later, towing the cousin by the girl’s hand.

“Sam”, Maisie called, making Sam get up from where he was crouched, picking up some plastic cups and dirty napkins from the floor.

“Can you do me a favor and drive Betty home? She lives on the other side of town with our aunt Theresa, who’s an old lady and can’t be alone for too long. Would you give her a ride, please, so she doesn’t have to wait for a cab?”, Maisie explained.

“Of course!”, Sam agreed immediately, looking at Dean, who was already fishing the car keys from the front pocket of his jeans. They both noticed that Maisie asked for Sam to give Betty a ride home, and not Dean, so she obviously wanted him to stay.

Sam caught the keys Dean tossed at him, and Dean watched the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk. Sam didn’t say anything, but he knew his older brother well, and he also knew Maisie. He’d noticed their behavior the whole night and how they got along. Him driving Maisie’s cousin to the other side of town was the perfect excuse for them to be alone.

After Sam left with Betty and they were done cleaning up, Dean tied the trash bag and placed it on the side of the house. Maisie was waiting for him at the backdoor, holding some leftover pizza and the paper plates that weren’t used.

They both entered the small kitchen and Dean leaned against the counter, watching while she silently put everything back in its place.

"So", he started, getting her attention, "that was a good party".

"Thanks", Maisie replied, smiling. "I'm glad you guys came. I mean, I finally got to meet the famous Dean Winchester", she joked, that beautiful blush rising on her cheeks again.

He chuckled, lowering his head and scratching his neck. Maisie only knew Dean for a few hours and she already noticed the gesture meant he was nervous. She found it cute.

"Don't know about the famous part, but I'm glad I got to know you too", he stated while she walked to lean on the counter by his side.

"Yeah? What is it about me that made you glad to be here?", she asked, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

Dean decided to go along with her flirting. She was hot, sexy in a very particular way. She was small, with thick legs, wide hips and a round, ample ass. Her short hair made her look younger than she actually was, and the big rounded eyes added to it. All of that only added to the fact that she was sweet, kind, and funny.

“Huh, let’s see. You’re pretty impressive. I mean, you went through with college, became a lawyer, despite all the shit that happened in your life”, he pondered. “That alone is already awesome. Also ‘cause you’re obviously important to Sam. He wouldn’t come to anyone’s party. Thanks for being a good friend to my brother, by the way”. Dean took her injured hand in his, rubbing her fingers lightly with his thumb.

“You’re welcome”, she said in a low voice. “He’s a great dude”.

“Yeah, he is”, Dean agreed, the pride obvious in his tone. “Oh, how I wish all Sammy’s friends were as easy on the eyes as you are”, he shook his head and tsked, as if he was stating something very, very serious and upsetting.

That made her laugh out loud. She came closer to him, still chuckling, and raised her head to stare into his beautiful green eyes. Dean placed one hand on her cheek, thumb caressing her soft skin, while he kept the other hand on the counter, caging Maisie between his body and the furniture.

Her stare went to his lips and back to his eyes in a quick, almost imperceptible movement. She wanted to kiss him so badly. Her heart was racing, pounding against her chest.

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his face, and Dean slid his hand to the small of her back, supporting her and bringing her close to his body, when-

The sound of a loud honk startled them both, pulling them out of their lust haze.

“What the hell-?”, Maisie cursed, walking to the front door to see who was making such a loud noise that late at night.

Dean followed her to see a blue Prius parked in front of her house. The driver’s door opened widely and a guy got out of the car, stumbling.

“Eric?”, Maisie exclaimed, wide-eyed. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you not to come!”, she said while walking to him, doing her best to keep her voice down and not wake up the neighbors.

The guy came tripping on his own feet, raising his hands as a peace offering. “I know, darling, I saw your text. But I wanted to apologize. I was such a fool-”

“No, no, no”, Maisie interrupted him, raising her own hand to stop Eric mid-speech. “I won’t accept your apology this time, Eric. Just- just go home. You’re obviously drunk, I’m gonna call you a cab”, she turned her back to him, wanting to go inside the house and make the call, but he grabbed her arm, making her stop.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me, bitch!”, he yelled, his grip making it impossible for her to free herself of his hold.

“Let go of me!”, Maisie demanded, turning around and trying to pull her arm, but he grabbed the other one, yanking her closer.

“I won’t let you break up with me!”, he screamed, his face contorting in a mug.

Everything was happening so fast. Maisie tried to take a step back and kick Eric between his legs, but Dean was faster; her was by her side in a second, shoving Eric away and putting himself between the drunk man and Maisie.

“Get away from her, asshole!”, he threatened, pointing a finger to Eric’s face, his other hand splayed on the guy’s chest to stop him from getting to Maisie.

“And who the hell are you?”, Eric questioned, in a drunk drawl, looking from Dean to Maisie, who was rubbing her arms where he had left red marks on her fair skin.

“Doesn’t matter who I am, she asked you to leave, so leave!”, Dean pushed him again, making Eric stumble in the direction of the parked car.

“Oh, so you’re fucking her? Just ‘cause I didn’t come to her stupid party with her stupid nerd friends, she’s already spreading her legs to another dude? I always knew you were a slut!”, Eric spat on the driveway, turning around and running to his car when Dean got closer to him, ready to throw a punch.

“Let him go, Dean. He’s not worth it”, Maisie asked, placing a hand on his back, and Dean stopped.

“Jackass”, Dean said while the other man cowardly drove away, tires screeching.

Dean turned around and went to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and assessing the bruises in both her arms. “Jesus Christ, Maisie, he hurt you. Are you ok?”.

“I’m- I’m ok. God, Dean, he’s super drunk. He’s gonna kill himself in that car”, Maisie said, worried. Tears were running freely down her face.

Dean was much more worried about her than about that piece of crap. But he understood her concern, and didn’t want Maisie to be even more stressed out than she already was.

“Let’s go inside and call the police, sweetheart. We can let them know there’s a drunk dude driving around”, he offered, and she accepted, leaning into his embrace.

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Fifteen minutes later, they had talked to the police and reported Eric. Maisie refused to go to a police station and file a report on his assault. Dean argued, but she promised it was all over between them, that she wouldn’t let Eric be anywhere near her again.

“Besides, he’s probably gonna be arrested for DUI anyways”, she shrugged, not at all feeling sorry for her ex-boyfriend’s future problems with the police.

So Dean made her a cup of tea and they sat on the couch, him helping her put some ice on her bruised arms.

“You sure you’re ok?”, he asked for what had to be the tenth time.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine”, she answered, sniffing.

Dean watched her closer, just to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything.

“Hey, Maisie. Let me ask you something”, he started, and she nodded, signaling he could go ahead. “Has he ever- was he ever violent with you- before?”

She shook her head, but the fresh wave of tears in her eyes told Dean there was a “but” coming. “H-he broke a glass once, when he was really drunk, like today. We argued for the same reason: he wasn’t around when I needed him. I called him out for it, he got mad and threw a glass against the wall. But he never- put his hands on me like this before”, she explained.

Dean slid closer to her, gently catching her tears with his fingertips. “Good. I was afraid it wasn’t the first time he hurt you”.

“Yeah, no, he’s never done that before. Just, you know, didn’t show up, cheated on me and stuff like that”, she shrugged and rolled her eyes like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He cheated on you? Just when I thought he couldn’t be a bigger pile of shit”, Dean shook his head, jaw clenching.

She sighed deeply before answering. “He cheated once, that I know of. And I was stupid enough to forgive him and let him come back”.

“But- I mean, don’t get me wrong here, but… why haven’t you told him to fuck off then?”

Maisie chuckled at Dean’s question. “I guess I was so used to having him around… I mean, we started dating in my first year of college. Things were good between us, as far as I know, except for one or two things here and there. Then, my parents died and he didn’t come to their service. We had an argument that day, and it was the first time I thought about breaking up with him. My friends warned me, Sam included, but I was so scared of being alone, Dean”, she confessed, looking him in the eyes for the first time in a while. “I had just lost the two most important people in my life. I had no close family around, aside from Betty and aunt Theresa. I didn’t wanna lose Eric too, so I thought I should forgive him, make an effort on behalf of our relationship. It was stupid of me, I know”, she finished, covering her face with her hands, regretting her past decision.

“Hey, hey, no”, Dean called, reaching for her, circling her shoulders with one arm so he could give her a side hug. Maisie melted, leaning her cheek on his chest and exhaling a shaky sigh.

He kissed the top of her head, running his hand up and down her back. “You did nothing wrong. Sorry if my question made you think you did. It’s just- you’re such a great girl. I was having a hard time understanding why you were with a guy like him. But I see it now. I know it sucks to feel alone, like you have no one to be your home. I hope you know you don’t need him, Mais”.

Dean parted from her and placed his large hand on her chin, lifting her face up to look her in the eyes. “You’re beautiful, funny, smart, and you have friends all around that love you, sweetheart”, he caressed her jawline with his thumb, the rough pads of his fingers sending a shiver down her spine.

“I like when you say that”, she confessed, smiling under the tears.

Dean raised his eyebrows at her. “When I say what?”, he asked with a mischievous smirk.

“When you call me sweetheart. And ‘Mais’. Nobody ever called me that. I like the nickname. And I like hearing you say ‘sweetheart’”, she blushed furiously, to Dean’s amusement.

“Oh, good to know it makes you blush so prettily”, Dean teased, taking her hand in his and intertwining their fingers. He led their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly, those green eyes never leaving her face.

Maisie’s teary eyes darkened. She wanted him so badly it was overwhelming, but it wasn’t the right moment.

“Dean, I-”

“Sorry”, he interrupted, letting go of her hand and running his fingers through his hair, spiking the soft strands even more. “I just thought- that you and I-”.

“Dean, hear me out”, she placed a finger over his plump lips, effectively shushing him. “I want this to happen, whatever this is, between you and me. I want… to get to know you. If you want to, that is. But I need to make sure it has nothing to do with Eric. With me being in need of comfort, or company, or about you protecting me from him - which I’m thankful for, by the way. I broke up with him and I’m fine with that, ready to forget all about him. Still, I need some time to gather my thoughts, to really understand how I’m feeling, what I’m feeling”, she paused there, grabbing her mug from the coffee table and taking a sip of tea. “I’m probably being so ridiculous right now, but I… I felt something for you the minute I saw you, Dean”, she gulped, scared about how he would react to her confession. If Maisie wasn’t always so rational, she would’ve probably taken things further with Dean that night. But she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair with either of them. Still, she knew, in her heart and mind, that she’d never met anyone who made her feel like that before.

Adorably, his ears turned red again. “Bashful” wasn’t an adjective she would use to describe Dean right away - especially because he flirted with her two minutes after they met. But she could already tell he was a complex character, and that was another thing about Sam’s older brother that drew her to him.

“I understand. I also felt something when I saw you earlier today… actually, when Sam showed me a picture of you, I was like ‘damn, she’s gorgeous’”, he revealed, grinning, and Maisie blushed with the compliment.

“Thank you, Dean. That’s very nice of you to say”, she replied, placing her hand over his on the couch. He turned his palm up and laced their fingers again.

“It’s true, though”, he shrugged, and they just sat there for a few minutes, staring at their joined hands until the sound of Dean’s phone made them jump slightly.

He got the phone from the coffee table. “Sam wants to know if he should come back to pick me up”, Dean read the text, looking up at Maisie with a questioning look.

She stared back at him with those big, doe eyes, and he immediately knew he should stay. Understandably, she wasn’t very comfortable with being alone.

“So, is it ok if I stay?”, Dean asked, making sure he got her right.

“I- I can’t ask more from you, Dean. You’ve done so much for me today-”

“No, no, no”, he interrupted, squeezing her hand in reassurance, “I’d rather stay, if that’s ok with you. I’ll feel better knowing you’re ok. I’ll tell Sam to go back to the motel and pick me up in the morning”. Dean smiled and Maisie smiled back, relieved.

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“I can sleep on the couch, you know”, Dean said for the second time, while walking behind Maisie.

“No way, I have a guest room. I mean, it’s not much, it’s just the room that used to be mine, since now I sleep in the room that was my parents’”, she explained, opening the door and entering her former bedroom.

Three walls were painted in a pale lilac, while the fourth one, behind the bed, was purple. The marks on the painting signaled that there were posters or pictures glued there, probably from Maisie’s teenage years.

It was a spacious room with a big, comfy bed. Dean couldn’t even remember the last time he slept in one of those. He was glad for the comfort, but wished the circumstances were different. He wished Maisie didn’t need to be kept safe from a piece of crap like Eric.

“You think you’re gonna be ok in here?”, she interrogated, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hell, yeah”, he said, walking to the bed. “Sweetheart, if you saw the places Sam and I usually crash… this is a freaking palace!”

Maisie chuckled. “Good. There’s some blankets in the closet and towels, if you wanna shower. I’m gonna go to bed now. My room is next door, so just knock if you need something, ok? And make yourself at home”, she said, opening her arms and approaching to give Dean a hug.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart. I’ll be fine”.

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The first time they shared a bed was forever ingrained into Dean’s brain.

Dean woke up with a knock on his door. He listened for a second, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or imagining things.

Then he heard the knock again, followed by Maisie’s voice calling his name almost in a whisper. “Dean, can I come in?”

He sat up on the bed and told her to come in. She immediately opened the door, looking scared and pale.

“What’s wrong?”, Dean asked, patting on the bed by his side, signaling for her to sit.

“I- I had a nightmare, Dean”, she sat and he could see she was shaking. He held her cold hand, listening attentively. “He- he came for me again. I- I don’t wanna… Can I stay with you?”, she asked, looking up at him with tears in her beautiful eyes.

“Of course. Of course, sweetheart. Come here”, he said, laying on the bed and stretching his arm for her to fit by his side. She lifted the covers and laid down with her head against his chest, legs slotted close to his.

Dean engulfed her in his warmth, noticing she looked even shorter laying by his side, scared and vulnerable. He silently cursed Eric for making her feel like this.

Placing his arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, lips slightly brushing the top of her head.

“It’s gonna be ok, Maisie. I won’t let anything happen to you”.

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Dean didn’t know what woke him up the next morning. But, before even opening his eyes, he felt a warm, soft body against his. His mind filled the blanks in seconds, reminding him of everything that happened the day before, and how he ended up being someone’s big spoon.

Opening his eyes slowly, he didn’t dare to move an inch. His left arm was around Maisie’s waist, fingers laced with hers once more while she held his hand against her stomach. Somehow, both of her legs were trapped between his, slightly bended knees making her perfectly round butt fit to his front, enticingly close to his crotch.

Well, now he was very awake. Every inch of his body was fully awake. He wasn’t exactly used to waking up with a woman in his arms. It happened before, obviously, but he usually didn’t sleep, sleep with them. They would do the deed and he would leave. Or they would. So, yeah, Dean was finding it hard (pun intended) to know what to do to keep that sweet, sweet woman from thinking he was a perv.

He took his time appreciating the sensual curve of Maisie’s neck, her round, soft shoulders, and the dip of her waist, leading to her ample hips.

Behave, man. A voice in his head, that sounded remarkably like Sam’s, scolded him.

A few minutes passed and Dean remained still, listening to Maisie’s deep breaths. And then she started slowly moving, slowly waking up from what he hoped had been a restful sleep.

“Hmm”, she hummed, stretching her body and consequently pushing it closer to Dean’s.

“Morning”, he greeted, holding his breath.

“Morning”, Maisie replied in a cute, sleepy voice. “Sorry for invading your personal space”, she continued, gently trying to untangle from him.

“No need to apologize. I enjoyed it a lot”, he affirmed, smiling when she turned her neck to look at him.

“Me too. Thank you for staying, Dean”, she said, reaching to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Anytime, sweetheart”.

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The first time they kissed was totally unexpected.

They had breakfast together and Sam came to pick Dean up at around 10 AM.

Dean had promised Maisie they would come back to visit her as soon as possible, and made her promise to call and text so he would know she was ok. He also told her he planned to go to the police station and check if the cops really got to Eric.

Maisie walked him to the door when they heard the Impala’s honk.

“Ok, so I made you guys sandwiches for the trip, and some extra coffee”, she handed Dean a paper bag with the food, which he gladly accepted. “I also want to give you something else, as a thank you”.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mais-”, Dean started, but she interrupted by standing on her tiptoes and kissing on the lips, taking him by surprise. He quickly recovered, placing a hand on her cheek, deepening the kiss a little and guiding her into it, sliding his lower lip over hers and lightly sucking it.

When they separated, she was flushed. “Wow. You were the one who was supposed to win the prize, but I guess I was the lucky one”, Maisie smiled, lips tingling.

“I hope this is enough to convince you to let me come back…”, Dean said, scratching his neck.

“I cannot wait for you to come back. Now, let’s go so I can say goodbye to Sam”, she held his hand and guided him through the door in the direction of the Impala, parked on the street.

Dean was already missing her. It was hard for him to explain even to himself, but he wanted to protect Maisie, to keep her safe. At the same time, her fierceness and determination, the way she held her head up high, showing everyone she could kick their asses, Dean’s included, made him want to push her against the nearest wall and have his way with her in a not-so-sweet manner.

One thing Dean was sure of: he wanted more of that. More of her. He didn’t know when he was coming back, but he had every intention to keep his promise. He hoped his crazy life would allow him.

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38 days later

When came back, things didn’t go the way he expected.

“Hey, Sammy”.

“Yeah”.

“So, I texted Maisie yesterday and asked if we could visit her. We’re done with this job and it’s not far from her. She said yes and invited us for lunch. Is that ok with ya?” Dean questioned without taking his eyes off the road.

“Sure”, the younger Winchester replied, proceeding to look at his brother with a smirk. “So you and Maisie have been in touch since you met her, huh?”

Dean glanced at him and shrugged. “Yeah, I mean… I was there when everything with Eric The Douchebag happened, so I kept checking to make sure she’s ok. Is that a problem?”, he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all”, Sam’s smirk got wider. “But if you like her, you can tell me, you know?”, he provoked, knowing Dean would straight away deny having feelings for the girl.

“What? I don’t like her like that!”, was Dean’s immediate answer, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“But why wouldn’t you like her? Is there something wrong with her?”, the younger brother continued, pushing Dean’s buttons and knowing he would end up telling the truth.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her. She’s- she’s hot, funny, smart. She has great style, and she smells so good, man, and those big-”

“Ok, ok, ok!”, Sam interrupted, immediately regretting making Dean talk. “TMI, man. Let’s just go have lunch with Maisie”.

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3 hours later

When the Impala entered Maisie’s street, the Winchesters saw the police car and the ambulance parked in front of her house. Their hunter senses immediately went on full alert.

“Oh, fuck”, cursed Dean, parking on the other side of the street and taking the fake FBI badge Sam was already handing to him.

They both got out of the car and Dean was the first one to spot Maisie sitting on the back of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders while a paramedic finished assessing a cut on the left side of her forehead.

“You go check on her, I’ll talk to the cops”, said Sam, and Dean nodded, walking in the direction of the injured woman.

“Maisie”, he called while approaching the vehicle, his heart racing from both worry and relief to see she didn’t look seriously hurt.

“Dean!”, she exclaimed, getting up and throwing herself in his arms. Thankfully, that was the exact moment when the paramedic finished placing the dressing on her cut, otherwise she would have knocked the poor man out of the way.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”, he asked, hugging her tight and caressing her hair.

Maisie started crying the minute Dean finished his question.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, you don’t have to say anything. I’m here now, Sam’s here. I- We won’t let anything happen to you”, he shushed while she sobbed.

Dean took her hand and led her back to sit in the ambulance. Maisie was crying too much to speak anyways, so he looked at the paramedic, the silent question of what had happened evident on his concerned features.

“She was knocked out. Luckily, she was fast enough to dial 911 first, so they were able to get the guy on his way out. She’s gonna be fine. Just make sure she gets some rest and changes the dressing tomorrow, okay?”, the man explained, and Dean nodded and thanked him.

He didn’t need any further explanation to know who the guy who knocked her out was. Eric, for sure. Dean just knew from the way Maisie was acting, with how scared she looked. He felt rage rising inside his chest. He wanted to kill the motherfucker with his own hands. Break his teeth so he would learn how to behave like a decent person…

He kept holding Maisie in his arms and, as she started to calm down, Dean shoved his murderous thoughts down and directed his full attention to her.

“What do you wanna do, sweetheart? Do you wanna wait for the cops to finish with your house and go inside? Or do you wanna go somewhere else?”

“So- somewhere else, Dean, p-please. I don’t wanna go back in there. Not now”, she said between sobs.

Dean felt his heart breaking into a million pieces. If I get my hands on that bastard…

“Ok, let me just go tell Sam we’re going to a motel close to here, is that alright? Then you can shower and get some rest”, he questioned, looking into her brown eyes with gentleness and reassurance.

Maisie nodded and Dean placed a light kiss on her forehead. He walked to the front entrance of the girl’s house, where Sam was talking with two cops.

“Gentlemen”, he greeted. “Agent Perry, can I speak to you for a moment, please?”, he told Sam, using their fake FBI agents’ names.

The brothers walked away from the police officers, and Dean turned around to face Sam.

“I’m taking Maisie outta here, man. She doesn’t wanna stay. We’re going to that motel on the road that’s closer to here, the half-decent one. Did they tell you what the hell happened?”

“Yeah”, Sam let out a deep sigh and shook his head. “Eric broke in early in the morning, Maisie was still sleeping. He was drunk and screaming that they should get back together. She said no and told him to leave, so he started to lock all the doors and windows to stop her from escaping. The idiot was so drunk that he didn’t even realize she had her phone and was already dialing 911-”.

“That’s my girl”, Dean interrupted, proudly.

Sam chuckled. “Well, yeah, she was lucky they were fast, because when he came back to her room, he saw her putting the phone down and knocked her out with a plant vase. She passed out and the cops got him trying to escape on foot, just around the corner. He’s facing assault and breaking and entering charges. Considering he already has a record for DUI, he’s gonna be busy for a while”.

“Good. Good. Okay, so we’re leaving. Will you meet us at the motel once you’re done here?”, Dean asked, knowing Sam would take care of everything so he could be with Maisie.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I’ll see if I can have a little chat with Eric at the police station and tell him to stay the fuck away from Maisie, if he manages to get out of jail anytime soon”, Sam said.

“Thanks, brother. Give him your worst”.

Looking back at Maisie and seeing that the cops were asking her some more questions, Dean took the time to go inside and get her a change of clothes. He didn’t know exactly what she would like to wear, but he grabbed a pair of sweatpants, t-shirts and underwear, putting everything inside a bag.

He noticed the broken vase on the floor of her room, where the cops were working, photographing and cataloging the crime scene. Giving a deep sigh, he did his best to control that rage again. Sam would make sure to let Eric know he better stay away. Now, Dean had to focus on taking care of Maisie. That was the most important task.

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On their way to the motel, they stopped quickly at a diner so Dean could get some burgers for lunch. Maisie kept saying she wasn’t hungry, but he would try to convince her to eat, eventually.

At the motel’s front desk, he asked for two rooms: one with two single beds for him and Sam, and another with just one bed, for Maisie.

“Okay, honey, the two singles I can provide, but the only other room available is with a queen size bed, is that ok?”, the nice old lady at the front desk asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine”, Dean answered.

He paid, got the keys, and went back to the Impala, where Maisie was waiting for him.

“All set, sweetheart. Should we go inside?”, he questioned, leaning down to look through the passenger window.

She nodded and they entered the first room, hers, together.

It was simple but apparently clean, recently renovated even. Dean was glad for it.

“Ok, Mais. I brought you some clothes, I’m gonna leave them here in case you wanna change. What do you wanna do now? Eat? Shower? Sleep? Talk to me?”, he offered, not trying to pressure her, but knowing it was good to push her into moving, doing something, instead of sinking into fear and sadness.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna take a shower first. Would you wait for me here?”, she asked, face bloated and stained with tears.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m only leaving if you tell me to”, he winked at her, making himself comfortable on a chair at the corner of the room.

Ten minutes later, Maisie left the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that reached the middle of her thighs. Dean couldn’t help but look at her smooth legs.

“Alright, should I leave now, or…?”, he asked, standing up and awkwardly trying to focus on her face and not on the fact that she looked so good wearing so little clothing.

“No”, said Maisie, walking up to Dean and stopping him from leaving by putting a hand on his chest. “I want you to stay with me, Dean”.

He looked at her hand splayed on his chest and then into her face, his heavy breathing revealing his uneasiness.

Maisie looked into his eyes, her own glistening with tears. “Thank you, Dean, again, for being here for me”, she said, sliding her small hand from his chest to his forearm, the delicate touch making him bite his lower lip.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier to stop what happened this morning, I-“

“Hey”, she stopped him again, this time taking her hand to his cheek, enjoying the feeling of his stubble against her soft fingers, “There’s no way you could’ve known what would happen”. To Dean’s surprise, Maisie took a step closer to him, still caressing his face, leaving no space between their bodies. “I need to confess, Dean, that I’ve been thinking about you all the time since we’ve first met”, she tangled her fingers through the hair on the back of Dean’s neck, standing on her tiptoes and giving him a peck on the lips. “I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to be with you”, she continued, her lips a mere inch away from him, her warm breath pumping Dean’s blood right between his legs. “How it would be to have you so close, holding me, with nothing between us”. He felt her hardened nipples through her t-shirt and his, touching his abdomen. “What about you? Have you thought about me?”, she asked.

Once again, Dean’s resolution was hanging by a thread. Maisie was making very clear what she wanted, and Dean was torn between giving in to his own desire, and the small rational part of his brain telling him she was responding to trauma in an unhealthy way. “Every fucking second, sweetheart” he answered, honestly. The shine of lust in her eyes was what broke his attempt of being a better man. He held her face between his hand and leaned down, giving her a kiss that started tame, but then turned messy and full of want when he parted her lips with the tip of his tongue, making her moan into his mouth, responding with the same intensity.

Dean maneuvered them so he could sit on the bed and have her on his lap, legs around his waist. Running a hand over the smooth skin of her thigh, he stopped when his fingers were already under her t-shirt. Maisie pushed her breasts against his chest and sighed, while his lips went from her mouth to her collarbone, nibbling and sucking. She held his head as close as possible, trying everything to prevent him from stopping. Between her legs, she felt him hardening under his jeans, and she pressed herself further onto his lap.

“Fuck, Dean”, she moaned, and it woke him up from his arousal-induced trance.

“Mais. Maisie, we need to stop”, Dean asked, pulling away from her lips and closing his eyes to try to gather some self-control.

“Why?”, she asked, trying to capture his mouth in another kiss.

“‘Cause you’re not thinking straight”, Dean said. God knows how much he wanted to keep going. She smelled so good, she looked fantastic like that, freshly showered, with nothing on but her underwear and that oversized t-shirt. But he cared too much about her to take things further at that moment. She’d just been through a terrible trauma and, as a pro at avoiding feelings and acting like nothing wrong had happened, Dean knew exactly what she was doing.

“I don’t wanna think about anything, Dean”, she tried again, holding his plaid flannel by the collar and pushing it off of his shoulders.

“Ok, you don’t have to”, he insisted, gently taking her hands off of his shirt, getting up and sliding her body down to the bed.

Maisie felt ashamed. She hugged her knees and scooched up to lean against the headboard, embarrassed and humiliated by her behavior. Dean sat back next to her and gently caressed her cheek with his knuckles.

“Hey. It’s not that I don’t want you. You could feel how much I do, right?”, he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a shy smile.

She raised her head to look at him with tears pooling in her eyes, and nodded almost imperceptibly, cheeks flushed.

“I want you so bad, sweetheart. I just don’t want you to regret this. Don’t do this to forget about what happened. Do this for you. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”, Dean asked, his other hand now placed protectively on her knee.

Maisie nodded again. “I’m- I’m sorry, Dean”, she said, and the tears started to run freely down her face.

“No, no, no, you have nothing to be sorry for”. He went closer to her, placing one arm around her shoulders. “Everything is gonna be fine, ok? Don’t worry”, he reassured, kissing the top of her head and pulling her to his chest. Maisie wrapped her arms around him, letting Dean’s warmth heal her wounds.

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It was already dark outside when Sam finally got to the motel. After their talk, Dean convinced Maisie to eat and she finally fell asleep.

Sam knocked on the door and Dean went outside to talk to him, trying to not disturb Maisie’s sleep.

“Hey, took you long enough”, Dean greeted. “How was it?”

Sam took a deep breath. He looked tired. “Well, the idiot wanted to give me an attitude, but I kept the FBI agent cover. I told him Maisie had friends in the Bureau, and if he tried something funny again I would make sure his ass would stay in jail forever. It also helped that I’m much taller than him”, he smirked, making Dean chuckle.

“Thanks, man. He actually deserves life in jail for what he put her through”, Dean stated, looking inside the room through a crack on the door.

“How is she doing?”, Sam asked, pointing to the room with his head.

“She’s… she’s ok, considering. I managed to get her to eat, but she didn’t want to talk about what happened, so I’m giving her some space. She’s asleep now. Here’s the key to the room next door. I’m gonna stay until Maisie wakes up. I don’t want her to find herself alone and think I left or something…”, Dean explained.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna try and sleep a bit too. But call me if you guys need anything, ok?”, Sam assured and Dean agreed, going back inside the room.

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It was almost midnight when Maisie woke up. The first thing she did after opening her eyes was look for Dean. He was sitting in the chair at the corner of the room, soundly asleep. His head was leaning on his left shoulder in a way that would surely make his neck hurt like a son of a bitch later.

Maisie got up and went to him, gently shaking his arm.

“Dean? Wake up”.

“Huh?”, he groaned, immediately opening his eyes and sitting straight.

“Hey, didn’t wanna scare you. You should come to bed”, she said, noticing how cute he looked even groggy with sleep.

The barely-awake state didn’t stop Dean from noticing Maisie told him to come to bed and not to go to bed. But he didn’t want to assume anything.

“Well, Sam’s back, so I’m just gonna join him at the room next door”, he got up and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

Maisie averted his eyes and blushed. “I- I was hoping you would stay…”

“I can also do that”, Dean reassured, smiling at her. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to avoid her. He would definitely feel better staying and knowing he would be close in case she needed him. “I’m gonna make myself a bed next to you and-”

“No”, she held his arm, stopping him from going in the direction of the tiny closet next to the bathroom. “The bed is big enough for both of us”, she blushed deeper.

“Are you sure?”, Dean questioned.

“I’m sure, Dean. I’ll behave, I promise”, she joked, in an attempt to dismiss the lingering embarrassment.

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it like that”, Dean started. “I’m just trying to say you don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine sleeping on the floor”.

“But I’m not”, she shot back. “I’ll be fine if you sleep on the bed”. She would never feel comfortable asking him to stay and then make him sleep on the floor.

“Ok”, he said. “I’m just gonna wash my face and be back in a second then”.

Dean left the bathroom a few minutes later, holding his jeans, plaid shirt and belt on one hand. He was down to his black t-shirt and boxers in the same color. Maisie was already in bed, laying on her side, covers pulled up to her shoulders.

“Is it ok if I sleep in my underwear?”, he asked, leaving his clothes on the chair and walking to the opposite side of the bed.

“Of course”, she answered, trying to sound casual while not at all feeling like that.

Even though they had slept in the same bed at her house the first time they met, it was dark and Dean was under the covers, so she didn’t really have the chance to see him. This time though, she had a full view: strong, thick, slightly bowed legs, firm and round ass, beautiful forearms speckled with freckles, wide shoulders. Maisie felt a tug in her lower belly. If she was attracted to him before, now she was even more sure she wanted to have her way with the fine man that was Dean Winchester.

But Maisie closed her eyes and focused on falling asleep and, ideally, stay away from Dean. Maybe he was right and she did chose the wrong moment to make a move, but the feeling of rejection was still very present.

Feeling the bed dip and the covers move when Dean was laying down, she closed her eyes and was about to wish him a good night, when she felt his arm sneaking around her middle, pulling her closer. She gasped in surprise. They were close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her ear.

“Is that ok?”, Dean whispered. “I kinda like being your big spoon”.

“It’s perfect. Good night, Dean”, she answered, thinking she could get used to being wrapped in him.

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When the pair woke up the next morning, they had changed positions and were facing each other instead of spooning. Maisie’s arms were tucked to her front, against Dean’s chest, while his arm was over her hip.

Maisie was the first to open her eyes. Dean was sleeping peacefully, mouth slightly opened. A lump started to form in her throat when everything that had happened the day before came back to her memory. It seemed like ages ago, but the fear she felt when Eric broke into her house crept inside her, making her stomach drop with the thought of what could have happened if she didn’t act fast enough.

She took a deep breath and focused on Dean’s face. His perfect face. Her heart skipped a beat with the thought of kissing him. She knew she was falling in love with the guy. They literally talked every day since the day they met, and things with him just flowed easily, so uncompromising. The idea of being with someone who would be there for her was all she ever wished for.

When Dean stopped her from taking things further the day before, she understood that it looked like she wanted sex as a coping mechanism, but he was wrong. She really wanted him because of him, not because of Eric. The timing was bad, yeah, but she was sure about what she wanted. She still felt embarrassed though, especially because maybe she got it wrong and Dean didn’t want the same as she did.

As if he could hear her thinking, he started to slowly wake up. He opened his eyes a little and smiled when he saw her watching him.

“Hey”.

“Hey, you”, she replied in a whisper.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked, and Maisie held her breath when his fingers started to lightly caress her hip.

“I’m- I’m gonna be fine, I guess”.

“I know you will”, Dean reassured, and leaned forward to place a feathery kiss on the tip of her nose and a longer one on her lips. He wanted to show her he wasn’t against being intimate with her. God, no. It was actually the exact opposite. He really wanted them to be as intimate as possible. The thought had crossed his mind more times than he could count since they met. But he didn’t want their first time to have anything to do with her ex-boyfriend. He wanted to be more to her than a coping mechanism, and that thought was scaring him to death, because he had probably been a coping mechanism to multiple women. And, if he was being honest, they were his sometimes too. In his defense, he never promised any kind of commitment or long-term relationship to any of them. And that was always fine and fulfilling both for him and for the women, he made sure of that. But, with Maisie, he wanted more than one night. He wanted to keep coming back to her as much as she would allow him to.

She interrupted his thoughts by calling his name.

“What, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry again about yesterday. I’m sorry if I crossed the line and moved too fast,-”, she started babbling, nervously looking anywhere but in his eyes, her anxious thoughts taking the best of her.

“Hey”, Dean placed his hand on her cheek softly. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. I really wanna be with you, Mais. But I want this to be right for us, for you. I need you to be sure this, us, has nothing to do with-”

It was her turn to stop him. “I understand, Dean. But yesterday was not a response to my trauma. I did what I did because I really, really like you. And, honestly…”, her voice broke, “I just need you to show me that there’s good and kindness in this world, not just loss, and pain, and loneliness-”

Dean didn’t let her finish. He placed his large hands on her cheeks and pulled her face closer, giving her a sensual open-mouthed kiss that took her breath away. Licking and tasting her thoroughly, he draw a throaty moan out of her. Once the kiss was over, Dean’s arm went around her waist, pushing her by the lower back so their bodies would get closer, giving her small pecks on the lips. Maisie’s hand was on his shoulder, and it descended to his bicep and his back, feeling the muscles moving under the freckled skin. She threw a leg over his hip, and Dean couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You sure about this, sweetheart?”,  he asked, plump lips now on the curve of her neck.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now kiss me again", the girl demanded, rolling on her back and pulling him with her, lips already glued to his. He leaned over her, positioning himself on top and pulling her leg further up around his waist so he could fit between her thighs.

She pushed her hands under his t-shirt, running her fingers over his strong, firm body, while Dean’s lips were on her neck, his hands on her hips, slowly pulling her panties down. Maisie lifted her butt from the bed to help, and Dean threw the panties away without stopping kissing her.

“Take your shirt off, Dean”, she demanded, and he quickly obeyed. Maisie stared at him towering over her, his toned body looking godly under the dim lights of the room. “You’re so handsome”, she praised, stunned by the Winchesters genes.

Dean smirked and blushed shyly, having no time to reply once Maisie pulled him by the hem of his boxers to resume his previous position. The kissing was back on, and Dean pulled her oversized t-shirt off, leaving her fully naked.

Even though Maisie was not insecure about her body, Dean was staring at her so intently, in a way that the other guys in her life never did, as if he was memorizing her. It made her feel a little self-conscious.

"Dean? What’s wrong?", she asked, voice barely there, as if she was afraid of the answer. Maisie faced Eric’s judgement before and did her best to not be affected by it, but she wasn’t ready to hear any snark comments about her appearance at this vulnerable moment.

Dean’s chest was heaving and his eyes were taking in the woman laid down in front of him. Wetting his lower lip with the tip of his tongue and shaking his head lightly, he ran a hand from her waist to her under boob, pupils dilated. “Nothing’s wrong, I was just thinking… that Eric dude is so damn stupid".

“What?”, she furrowed her brows in surprise, not at all expecting him to bring up Eric when they were about to have sex.

"Look at you, Maisie. You look incredible. If you were mine, I would do anything to keep you", he kissed her then, lowering his body over hers until there was no space between them, his naked chest warm against hers.

Maisie’s heart skipped a beat with Dean’s words. Eric was never one to praise her in bed, or in any occasion, if she was being honest. With Dean, it was not only what he was saying, but also the fact that she could see the lust in his green eyes, in the way he was breathing, and from the hardness between his legs pressing against her center, making her wet.

She sneaked a hand between them, reaching for Dean’s boxers, rushing to have no barrier between them. As if he was again reading her thoughts, he guided her hand to the front of his underwear, pressing it against the outline of his hard cock. “You’re making me so hard, sweetheart”, he breathed, eyelids heaving as Maisie pulled the piece of clothing down his thighs, finally revealing his veiny, thick cock, to her sight.

“Can I touch you?”, she asked, placing her palm in his lower belly, feeling his muscles twitch under her touch.

“Yeah”, Dean answered, watching her every move.

She slid her hand down and closed her fist around his lengthy cock, caressing it, feeling it heavy and warm. “Fuck, Dean, you’re hot as fuck”.

He chuckled with the compliment. “Right back atcha, baby. Lemme touch you too”, Dean said, already running his hand on the inside of her thigh, fingers gently probing her center. She lowered her head to watch him use his fingers to spread her lips and gather the slick there, using it to lubricate his cock and make her hand slide easily on the length.

Maisie moaned with his touch, and Dean took it as an incentive to bring his hand back to her pussy and push one finger inside while he kissed her again. They touched each other for a few more minutes, until Dean placed his hand on top of hers, making her stop the up and down movements that were driving him completely insane.

“Mais, I need you to stop”, he asked, pulling back and watching her face, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from his kisses and bites, looking absurdly sexy.

“What’s wrong?”, she questioned, concerned.

“Nothing ‘s wrong, it’s just if you keep doing that I’m not gonna last”, he confessed, crawling over Maisie again, kissing her deeply, using one hand to support his weight and the other to caress her plump breast, rubbing the nipple with his thumb. “I wanna be inside you. Wanna make you cum so hard you’re gonna forget every jackass that didn’t fuck you as good you deserve”, he whispered against her lips, letting go of her breast and running his hand down her body until he reached her center again. He then held his cock and ran it through her lips, not really entering her but coating himself with her slick even more, bumping her clit and making Maisie moan with the feeling. “Do you want that?”, he asked, teasing.

“Yes, yes, please Dean, just fuck me already”, she whined, eager to know how he would feel inside of her.

Dean pushed the tip of his cock in her entrance, feeling her already stretching to accommodate him. He hissed at the feeling of warmth and wetness, her nails digging at his shoulders as he entered her slowly, with in and out movements, inch by inch, taking turns between kissing her and sucking her nipples, as Maisie slid one hand down his back to push his hips, silently asking him to go all the way in.

With him completely sheathed inside her, Maisie was feeling so full and stretched, to the point where she knew it would hurt a little once he started moving. Dean was so thick, she found it hot how much she was struggling to take him. He was making her feel things she wasn't used to and, at this point, she just wanted him to fuck her senseless.

He seemed to have a different idea, though, judging by how his hips were completely still.

"Dean", she called, running one hand through his soft hair, "can- can you move? I need you to move", she pleaded, voice strangled with need.

"In a minute, baby. Just need to get used to you. You have no idea how good you feel", he explained, grunting and moving a few inches out of her, teeth clenched. He could feel her muscles snuggling him so much he was afraid he was gonna come, but the need to drive himself deeper inside of her was too much. He did exactly that, and judging by Maisie’s gasp, she felt as good as he did.

“You feel amazing”, he praised again, pulling out and pushing in harder this time, and Maisie’s moans were increasing according to the force he was putting into fucking her. Each one of Dean’s thrusts made her body move further up on the bed. He was hitting her sweet spot with perfect aim and, as he pushed one of her legs further up, her clit started pressing on his pelvis. She had lost the capacity to form words, turning into a moaning mess, digging her fingers into the meaty part of Dean’s thick shoulders, trying her best to keep her eyes open to watch his beautiful face contort with pleasure every time her walls constricted around his length.

Dean slowed down his movements, wanting to last and drag his and Maisie’s pleasure further. “Is it good, baby girl?”, he asked between ragged breaths, kissing and nibbling her jaw and neck.

“S-so good. So- so f-full”, she managed to say, fingers travelling down to his plump ass, “so deep, Dean”.

“Yeah? I can feel this perfect pussy squeezing so hard around me, sweetheart. Are you about to cum?”, he continued, hand sliding to her mound, pressing down as his thumb found her clit, making Maisie’s hips jump from the bed.

“Oh, yes! Dean, I’m-“

“Come, baby, come for me”. He pinned her hips down and buried himself in her to the hilt as her muscles contracted around his cock. Maisie’s ragged breaths and moans were louder and he couldn’t hold it anymore. She was taking him so well. He came hard and deep inside of her, painting her walls white and making it leak around them both.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, he grunted, the pleasure spreading to his toes as Maisie pulled his head down to kiss him, not an inch of space between their sweat-slicked bodies.

They slowly came back from their highs, bodies still joined, Dean’s head resting between Maisie’s breasts while she caressed the hair on the nape of his neck. After a few minutes, he tilted his head up to look at her. “That was incredible. You’re so perfect”, he said, kissing her, hot and messy mouth exploring hers.

“Stop, Dean. You’re making me blush”, she said, smiling as her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

“It’s true. And you look beautiful when you blush. But I know something that will make you look even prettier”, he stated, kissing her again and slotting himself back between her thick legs.

She made space for him and felt his cock getting hard against her left inner thigh. Maisie laughed when Dean’s mouth travelled to her neck, sucking the sweet spot behind her ear. It felt good to see the way he reacted to her so promptly, how she aroused him right after they just had the most amazing sex. It felt like they knew each other for way longer than they actually did. “Tell me, Dean”, Maisie encouraged him, wanting to hear more of that deep, sexy voice of his saying dirty things to her.

He answered by straddling her mid, cock standing hard and glistening with their juices. It was a mouth-watering sight, Maisie thought, and she wanted nothing more than to suck him off. She reached out to take him in her small hand, and Dean grunted. “You would look amazing covered in my cum”, he confessed, hips jerking with her touch.

“I think I have a better idea”, she looked up at him from under her lashes, leaning up to give a kitten-lick to the head of his cock. Dean hissed and threw his head back, every inch of his body reacting to Maisie’s caress.

She pushed him back on the bed and knelt between his spread legs, proceeding to hold his cock with one hand and sucking on the tip while watching his every reaction. He felt heavy and hot in her hand, and she took him as far as she could, moaning around him.

“Fuck, Maisie, I’m not gonna last”, Dean warned, his length pulsing on her tongue.

Giving one particular strong suck and slurping their combined juices, she let go of him. “Do you wanna come all over me, Dean?”, asked the woman, sensual eyes watching him panting. She knew the answer, he already said it, but she wanted to hear him say it again.

“Yeah, baby”, he replied, lips parted while he watched her give one more kitten lick to the head of his dick and jerk him off until he exploded, painting her breasts and stomach with his hot cum.

“Wow, Dean”, she exclaimed, collecting some of the liquid from between her breasts and licking her fingers to clean it, tasting the tanginess of his cum.

“That was so fucking hot, Mais. You’re incredible”, he pulled her in for a kissing, tasting her and himself, pushing his tongue into her mouth and making her moan.

Wrapping her body in his embrace, Dean pulled her down to lay on the bed with him, still kissing her and exploring her curves with his hands. Once they stopped to catch their breaths, Dean noticed her eyes getting heavy as he caressed her back. He watched as she fell asleep and pulled a blanket over them, letting himself be carried away with her to a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

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The Winchesters stayed with Maisie for a week. After the police was done collecting evidence from her place, the three of them went back and settled there, trying to help her back to her routine and mostly waiting to know what would happen with Eric. Sam slept in Maisie’s old bedroom while she and Dean shared the other room. That made the younger Winchester smile. He could tell right away that his brother and friend had clicked off, and he hoped they would both get the best out of whatever was going on between them.

In the meantime, Dean was so adamant at making sure Eric would stay in jail and have no chance at ever getting close to Maisie again that, when a hunt surfaced in a city nearby, he sent Sam and asked Bobby for help, deciding to stay with her just in case.

“It’s a quick and easy salt and burn, Sammy, you don’t need me. ‘Sides, Bobby is on his way. Maisie is gonna talk to her lawyer and I wanna be here, in case we need to do something to keep the jackass locked up”, he explained, patting Sam on the shoulder and giving him the Impala’s keys.

Gladly, everything went fine and Eric would wait for trial in jail. Maisie’s lawyer assured her there was no way he was not getting convicted, and Dean only agreed to leave because of that.

“Mais, I’m- Sam and I are one call away. All you have to do is give us a call and we’ll be here or have someone here with you, okay?”, Dean assured, giving Maisie one last hug while Sam was already waiting in the car.

“I know, Dean, thank you. I appreciate everything you guys did for me. Especially you”, she said, smirking devilishly and pulling him down for a kiss. “I cannot wait to see you again”, she whispered in his ear before they split.

Dean’s ears were red but he was grinning. “Me too, sweetheart. I’m gonna text you every day. You text me back, alright?”.

“I will, I promise”, she said, waving goodbye as he walked towards the car.

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As Dean drove down the road, switching the radio on, Sam watched him. Since it didn’t look like his older brother was gonna say anything, he decided to give him a push.

"So, what?", Sam asked.

"What, what?", Dean replied, raising an eyebrow, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"You and Maisie. Was it just a one-time thing?".

"Hell, no. Not if it's up to me. She’s pretty great, Sammy", Dean smiled, mind filled with the memories of their good time together.

"I know that. That's why I'm asking. Don't break her heart, man".

"I won't, man. I promised her I'll come back. I will call and text and check on her too. I will. She knows how our life is, though. She knows I can't be there every day. But I'm gonna be there for her, for the important things at least. She will never have to deal with that dude ever again, if it's up to me. I’m gonna keep her safe", Dean looked at his brother, stern expression telling Sam he meant every word.

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5 years later – after Purgatory

Maisie’s bare feet were starting to hurt from walking up and down the living room. The perspective of seeing Dean after a year was making her too anxious. One year without hearing his voice, except for the voice messages she kept replaying every time the pain of missing him was too much to bear. One year of no texts, no pictures, of not looking into his green eyes. One year of not knowing if he was even alive.

He was back now, but she had no idea in what state, physical and mental, she would find him. That was only increasing her nervousness, but she tried to hold on to the fact that he was alive, and he was gonna be there with her at any moment now. Everything else, they would manage together.

She ran to the door the moment she heard the sound of the Impala’s engine. If it weren’t for Sam’s call giving her a little more detail, the only indication she had was a text message sent from Dean’s old phone: I’m back and on my way to see you, Mais.

Maisie wouldn’t even had believed that the message was actually from Dean, if Sam hadn’t call right after she received it, explaining that Dean was alive. Apparently, the brothers had a fight, and Dean was on his way to see her. She and Sam were not exactly in the best terms at the moment as well – Maisie was not happy with the fact that he didn’t look for Dean, and she had a suspicion that was the reason they fought.

Once she reached the front door, Dean was already halfway up the short staircase leading to the house’s porch. “De-“, she started saying, tears running down her cheeks, but he didn’t let her finish. He skipped the last two steps and pulled her into his arms, embracing her as tight as he could while kissing her almost with bruising force.

“I missed you, Mais, I missed you so fucking much”, he said between kisses. She sobbed and laughed at the same time, heart thumping in her chest. The relief of seeing him again, looking tired but somewhat whole, was everything she had hoped for in the last year.

“I missed you too, Dean. I love you”, she said, knowing it would scare the shit out of him, but not wanting to spend another day with the regret of not having him know the depth of her feelings.

Dean stepped back but kept his arms around her waist. He was clearly shocked, but soon his wide eyes gave way to the wrinkles that framed his face so beautifully every time he smiled. “I- I love you too, Maisie. I didn’t realize how much until I couldn’t be with you”.

She kissed him again, standing on her tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck. Maisie was glad to realize she didn’t forget the smell of him, or the feeling of his short hair on the tip of her fingers, or the way his big hands fit so perfectly on her hips.

Taking his hand in hers, Maisie led Dean inside the house. As if no time had passed, they sat at the table and she offered him the cookies she prepared on the day before, and he ate all of them, just like he always used to do, to her complete joy. After that, they talked for a while, sharing their perspectives about everything that happened during the past year, how she searched for him and even reached to some of the Winchesters’ hunter friends to help once she realized Sam was not doing what she expected him to.

It was a hard conversation for both of them. Dean wanted more than anything to simply forget everything, but he knew that he owed Maisie an explanation. She was utterly shocked when he mentioned Purgatory and everything he went through there, but her resolution to help him heal didn’t change, not even for a second.

The night ended with them making love. Dean got so lost in the comfort of her body, something he craved and wished for so long, that it wasn’t even surprising to him to feel a tear streaming down his face when he was finally inside her. There was nothing he wanted more than to be wrapped in her scent, her softness, to have every curve of her body fitting into his, to feel as comfortable and safe as he always felt with her.

He took her slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being joined with her after so long, of feeling her heartbeat against the hand he kept on her left breast, of watching the goosebumps forming on her skin with every one of his touches.

On the second round, Maisie was sitting on Dean’s lap, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. One of his hands was placed on her lower back so he could help her ride him, pushing her down and filling her to the hilt with every thrust. Her look was of pure bliss, cheeks flushed with the effort, and it was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

"My God, you're stunning. Do you know that? Do you have any idea how beautiful you look when you come?", he asked, pushing a strand of hair from her face while they were catching their breaths, sweaty bodies still intertwined.

Maisie looked at him with watery eyes. She couldn’t believe fate brought the two of them together. In the years they knew each other, they both changed so much, and all they’ve been through only made Dean more handsome and perfect in her eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you for being so perfect. Thank you for being mine. I love you”, she replied, kissing Dean again, savoring the feeling of his plump lips and the slight roughness of his stubble against her palms.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

10 years later – Lebanon, Kansas

Dean watches as Lily’s eyelids got heavier and heavier as he finishes the story. When she finally falls asleep, her little hand still holding his thumb tightly, he gently pushes her hair, as dark as her mom’s, out of her face. His movements are delicate, but she opens her big green eyes that look so much like his, and stares at him briefly, before falling asleep again.

He spends a few more minutes watching her, until a movement by the door catches his attention.

Maisie is standing there, in her pajamas, watching him. She smiles when he notices her.

He removes his hand from his daughter’s carefully, stands up from the stuffed chair by her bed, and walks to the door, where his wife waits for him.

“Hey”, Maisie greets in a whisper when he approaches her, extending her hand so Dean can hold it. He does, intertwining their fingers and standing next to her.

“Hey, baby. How long have you been standing there?”, he asks, kissing the top of her head.

“Just for two or three minutes. I arrived when you were telling her about how you fell in love with me from the first time you saw me”, she revealed, looking up at him and blushing.

Dean chuckled. “You got me there. It’s no lie, though. She loves hearing that story. It’s the one she always asks me to tell her. That, and the one where mommy and daddy reunited after he got out of monster land”.

“Monster land?”, Maisie furrowed her eyebrows in a questioning look.

“Yeah, that’s what I call Purgatory to her”, he gave her a cocky smile, obviously proud of his own creativity.

“I hope you spared her of the details”, she said, chuckling at Dean, once again amazed at the fact that their daughter seemed to love horror stories, just like her father.

“‘Course. Our story ain’t no fairytale, but I think it’s pretty awesome. Plus, she has to know how great her mommy is”, he affirmed, charming as always, and Maisie pulled his hand so they both would move away from Lily’s bedroom door. She closed it and led him to their room.

Once inside, the woman turned around and threw her arms around her husband’s neck, kissing him deeply.

“I love you, Dean. I love how amazing you are with our daughter. I would go through everything we went through all over again knowing it would lead us to this. You, me, and Lily”, she declared, eyes watering.

It was his turn to kiss her now, his warm palm against the side of her neck guiding her into the kiss. Maisie was so much shorter than him that, when they stopped for air, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “She’s only 2, but I know she’s growing up to be as fierce and strong as you are. Once she’s old enough, she’s gonna know how her dad went through hell and Purgatory, and how her mom was the reason he came back every time. How you waited for me and welcomed me with open arms, when I was bruised and battered and more fucked up than before. But you put me back together, baby. I love you”, Dean said, holding his love in his arms.

THE END.

Taglist (I'm sorry super this is super outdated! If you want to be removed or included in this taglist, let me know and I'll gladly do it <3): @sexyvixen7; @candy-coated-misery0731; @dean-winchester-lover99; @thoughts-and-funnies; @avanatural; @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior; @eevvvaa; @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes; @djs8891.

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3

[lovesitcomsandgaystuffs]

Takahashi and the symbolism of pomegranates

In chapter 103 Akira is strongly linked to pomegranates so I wanted to talk about the symbolism of them.

Pomegranates are very paradoxical and dualistic fruits in terms of their meaning and symbolism.

Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, and Zoroastrianism all turned the pomegranate into a symbol of mediation between life and death.

They have also been renowned throughout history for representing the medical field, fertility, and success. It makes perfect sense that Akira's character is depicted with pomegranates.

Now this is the most interesting part for me.

In chapter 103 we see him cutting and eating a pomegranate in a very creepy way, clearly the pomegranates are not what he really wants to cut and examine but are a replacement.

Even Kurai is afraid of what his brother might do (rightly so).

Which brings us to the story of why Takahashi became a doctor.

He himself admits that if he had not become a doctor on someone's advice he would probably be a serial killer by now.

So just like the legend between Hariti and Budha where he teaches her to sublimate her forbidden desires with pomegranate s, thus turning her from a devourer of children to a protector of children, the person who told Takahashi to become a doctor (Haru probably lmao) to satisfy his need to know (because what Takahashi wants is to know, to know what they all are made of, how they work, what they are like inside, whether that ends up hurting them is a side effect not the goal) by becoming a doctor and helping people/youkais instead of hurting them has turned him from a potential killer to someone who saves lives.

[nebulousfishgills]

Star Wars: The Old Republic could have at least had the decency to inform me I'd be able to unlock Lesbian Behavior after I got far enough into the expansions. My hot Sith has a whole ass husband and then when I see the option to flirt with a female NPC, it's all out the window.

AND AFTER I'VE HAD THESE EMAILS IN MY BACK POCKET, TOO.

I'M HAVING AN AFFAIR BECAUSE I DIDN'T REALIZE I'D UNLOCK LESBIANISM LATER IN THE GAME. AND I FEEL HORRIBLE ABOUT IT.

FUCK.

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[sunnwalker]

i am going to be real again and say that think that something is actually really wrong with me. I'm not one to self diagnose these sorts of things. Hard to describe my "symptoms" or what ever without feeling dramatic about it. I'm never sure if I'm faking or not, which i guess makes it like impostor syndrome for mental illness? Which is to say it's probably not that im faking it, i just don't fully feel like it's appropriate for me to make any serious claims.

Putting the thing thats been making me feel sick and embarrassed beneath the cut so that way nobody has to see it unless they want to. 👍 Nothing Bad I'm just Bitching about things.

anyway i dont think i feel like im the same person all the time and idk what that means but im actively seeking therapy and just reaching out now because its gotten to a point where i can't really excuse it away by saying "oh im just depressed it'll pass". but like man what the fuck do i even do about something like that. I wouldn't be posting this if I didn't feel like maybe someone might have insight on this because holy shit I'm so lost. How am I supposed to manage this as an adult and How have I managed it for over a decade of my life. im TIRED I'm not here to make myself a victim either that's not what I want i just want someone to hear me and maybe understand what I'm saying.