#I’m a tired man who loves an anime man too much for his own good

[charcoallbaby]

fake marriage

smuttyyyyy ofc so 18+ also a lil toxic

tired asf i’ll do a spelling check tmrw thx for reading!

having a fake marriage was definitely one of the best thing to ever exist especially since i get paid to pretend to love a man who is basically heartless, well to most people he is.

i get to live in a giant penthouse in the city of boston, i get a huge bedroom, with a ensuite plus a balcony, free clothes, mostly everything gets handed to me.

as much i love being in this fake marriage, there are some cons mostly because of matt. i mostly hate hearing him fuck girls in the room next to me, when i can’t do anything like that, he’s very protective of me, he gets jealous very easily, he doesn’t really let me talk to any male being while he’s with me. he punishes me by not paying me that week which doesn’t really effect me, the amount of money i’ve made since this marriage is insane, it would take me months to run through it. but in matt’s eyes he’s somehow “punishing me.”

tonight was a black-tie event for one of his many company’s. he got me a vintage chanel dress from the 90s. it was the most beautiful dress i’ve ever laid my eyes on, i knew the price of the dress would be nothing to him, he just wantedme to look good standing beside him.

“ready?” matt asked while fixing his cufflinks on his wrist. “yeah, i just need to get my heels on.” i grabbed my silver heels from my collection of different types of heels.

“the cars outside y/n.” he looked me up and down. “fuck, can you grab my bag?” i asked slipping myheels on. he rolled his eyes and grabbed my bag off my vanity. “thank you.” i took my small clutch from his hands and made my way to the elevator.

“behave tonight,” matt whispered in my ear before placing his hand around my waist, smiling for the cameras. “i always do.” i say through my teeth. “we’ll see about that love.” he pressed a light kiss to my cheek.

everything is for the cameras and i mean that. the touching, the kissing, theres no contact between us at home. before today i hadn’t spoken to matt in probably 3 days. not that he would talk to me anyway. he only talks to his parents, his 2 brothers, the maids who clean the house(mostly flirting) and the girls he fucks in the guest bedroom, matt would never dare to fuck a girl in his own bed, he’s really weird about that type of thing, he hates when anyone goes into his room well everyone but the maids, as i said he flirts with them a lot, just to make them blush, it boosts his already massive ego. after i come home from picking up some groceries up or going to visit my friends, i hear him making up some story of how he saved an animal or how much money he gives to charity which i know he does. but he hates people, hates them other than the couple people he talks to.

mine and matt’s hands were interlinked as we walked into the building.

“how long have you guys been married?” the older women infront of us asked. i looked up at matt before speaking, “well me and matt have been together 3 years, married for 1,” i gave a fake smile to the women. “that’s just so beautiful!” she chimed. matt gave the women a small smile. “wait!” “what about kids, do you have kids?” matt’s let go of my hand and put the hand i just holding around my waist. i cleared my through before awkwardly laughing. “no, no,” “not as of right now,” i smiled. “maybe soon,” matt finally spoke. “oh really!” she exclaimed. “yes matt really!” i looked up at him, he looked down at me before looking back at the women. “maybe not soon, but in the future.” he licked his lips. “wonderful!” “it was nice talking to your mr and mrs sturniolo, i’m going to find my husband he wanders off!” she laughed. “you too.” matt gave her a straight lined smile. “bye.” i smiled.

me and matt watched her walk away. “fuck,” he took a deep breath. “having kids soon are we?” i turned to him. he moved both his hands around my waist as he looked down at me. “only said that for people to have something to talk about,” i could feel his warm hands through my dress. “it’s crazy how such a cold hearted person can make something up like that,” i teased him. he looked away from me, chuckled before looking back at me again. “you look good.” he licked his teeth. “yeah you too.” i touched his right bicep.

“thank you everyone for coming tonight,” matt awkwardly had his hand in his pocket as he gave a speech. “i would like to thank my team and my wife,” “thanks.” he awkwardly put his drink up in the air before taking a sip.

the room was filled with people loudly clapping.

“what’s wrong?” matt asked as he came down by from the stage. “my feet hurt.” i whined. “y/n baby, i didn’t marry you to whine about your feet come on let’s get a drink.” he put his hand on my back and guided me towards the bar.

“what would you guys like?” the bartender asked. “scotch on the rocks,” “y/n?” matt asked. i looked at the bartender. he smiled at me. i gave him back a small smile. i cleared my throat. “i’ll have a-” “she’ll have a glass of white wine,” matt interrupted me. “alright, that’ll be coming straight up,” he looked at me. “are you trying to piss me off?” he leaned down and whispered into my ear. “no,” i gulped. “you were flirting with that guy,” “matt i just smiled.” “we’re going home, come on.” he grabbed my hand.

the car ride was silent. matt was on his phone making the back of the SUV slightly light up. i looked out the window, mostly trying to notfall asleep.

matt pressed the button for the elevator. he stood there my heels in his hand while looking down at the marbled floor on the lobby floor.

the elevator opened, no one inside. we both walked in. matt pressed the number for our apartment before leaning his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes. he looked so sexy, his jawline was sharp as fuck, his long hair falling over his eyes and his tie wrapped around his shoulders, he took it off when we got in the car. i pressed the emergency button making the elevator immediately stop. matt’s eyes darted open. he looked at me.

“why’d you stop the elevator y/n?” he groaned. “why are you so overly protective with me matt?” “you know i don’t flirt with guys especially in front of you, you love to make shit up did you see me flirt with that bartender?” “i simply smiled at him as a nice human does,” i crossed my arms. matt rolled his eyes. “what would you like to pretend that i don’t care?” “y/n, you think i care about who you flirt with?” “i actually couldn’t care fucking less, i just you know like to make this marriage look a little bit realistic,” he leaned over and re-pressed over apartment floor button. the elevator began moving again. “this marriage would be a little realistic when i have people over for you to not be fucking some girl,” i looked down at my nails. “what’d say?” “you heard me loud and clear,” the elevator doors opened. “thanks for holding my heels baby.” i grabbed the heels from his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek just to piss him off even more.

i made my way to my room before matt grabbed my arm turning me around. “who do you think you are?” matt asked. i shrugged my shoulders before turning back around. “y/n!” matt yelled, pulling me back and pressing me against the wall beside us. “come on baby, tell me,” matt roughly held my waist. “i’m your wife matt,” i looked up at him. “your my wife y/n and i would like if you actually listened to me when i talked to you,” his grip on my hips became softer. “i’m sorry, i promise i’ll listen better next time daddy,” i batted my eyelashes. his eyes rolled into the back of my head. “i’m going to bed.” he backed away from me. “sweet dreams husband.”

after the little scene matt made, i changed out of my dress and walked into the kitchen to find a snack to eat.

i sat myself down at the kitchen island, a bowl of ice cream in front of me, my phone in my left hand, the spoon in my right. i had been thinking of eating this ice cream all day and now i finallygot a chance.

i was nearly half way through the bowl before shirtless matt walked into the kitchen, he had those plaid pj pants he loved with of course the waist band of his boxers sticking out. i rolled my eyes before focusing back onto the ice cream. i could hear matt open the fridge. i quickly looked at his back. it was so defined, his tattoos making it way hotter that it actually had to be.

“do we have any spare batteries anywhere?” i spoke. matt turned around, opened-water bottle in his hand. “why?” he asked. “for my vibarator,” i popped the spoon into my mouth. matt choked on his water. “do you know?” i asked. he cleared his throat. “yeah, there’s some in the uh-in my office on my desk.” he swallowed. “okay thanks!” i cheekily smiled. matt mumbled something i couldn’t make out before walking back to his room.

i opened matt’s office door to find him sitting on one of the couch’s controller in his hand playing his playstation. hm coincidence.

“sorry i just need to grab those batteries,” i walked past him and looked around his desk. i couldn’t see them. “matt where are they?” i turned around and looked at him. “they should be there,” he said not taking his eyes off the tv. i rolled mine while looking back down at the desk. “matt it’s an empty packet,” i held it up. he finally looked at me.“oh shit yeah- i was just being a nice husband, i already put the batteries in for you there sweetheart,” he flashed me a smile before looking back at the tv. i stomped over right infront of him. “i can’t see the tv princess,” “pause it then,” i bit the inside of my cheek. he paused it, placing the controller beside him. “you went through my stuff?” “you held my viborator!” “yeah, it was a nice one,” he smirked at me. “what the fuck!” “your insane!” i yelled. “eh,” “i’m not that bad love.” he opened his legs, man spreading.

i exhaled. “why would you think that would be a good idea?” i put a hand through my hair. “it was a nice gesture, don’t you think?” he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. i groaned. “it’s fucking weird!” “your not even my real husband!” “well if this makes you feel any better i did it so it would make the marriage more realistic,” he titled his head at me. “don’t bring that shit back up matt!” i whimpered.

“come on, it’s okay,” matt pulled himself more towards me. he placed his hands on my waist while looking up at me. “matt what are you doing?” i groaned. “it’s okay.” he pressed his warms lips against my stomach. i slowly closed my eyes. his lips stayed on my stomach while he slipped a finger up my shorts and into my underwear. he slid his finger into my soaking core. i let out a moan. he moved his finger inside me. after a few seconds his finger left me. i opened my eyes. his finger in his mouth. “oh fuck, you taste good,” he moaned. “let me eat you out,” he pulled me by the waistband of my shorts towards him making me fall down onto his lap. i quickly felt how hard he was underneath me. “lay there,” he said moving the controller onto the coffee table in front of us. i nodded my head. i layed myself down. matt licked his lips before pulling my shorts and underwear off. he placed himself between my legs. he was quick to slowly suck my clit. i cried out. “all you do is touch yourself y/n, i bet your dying for this,” matt groaned against me. he slipped his tongue into my licking up all my juices like it’s the best thing he’s every tasted. my hands were pulling onto his hair while parting my mouth open in pleasure. “ma-matt!” i cried out. “nearly there baby?” he pulled away from me making his warm breath hit off the pool he was between. “mhm.” i mumbled.

matt gave me one long stride between my folds before pulling away from me. i opened my eyes and whined. i was on the edge of coming. “i wanna fuck you,” matt said feeling his hard on through his pants. “okay-okay.” i breathed out. “not here, in my room.”

matt placed me down onto his bed, his lips softly meeting mine. we’ve kissed before around people but not alone, it felt so much more different this time.

“you on the pill?” he asked pulling his boxers down. i nodded my head. “i’m gonna fuck you without a condom cause to be fair, i don’t really care if i get you pregnant, your my wife after all.”

matt was inside me, not moving. i was trying to adjust his size. “you can do it, i know you can, matt whispered into my ear. “mhm,” i mumbled. he started to move inside me slowly but then started to pick it up. his arm was hovering over me, grabbing the headboard for support “fuckkkkkkk,” he moaned. “y/n, i’m gonna fuck you until the sun rises okay?” he grunted. “y-yeah.” i let out. “such a girl good for me.” he placed a kiss to my lips. his necklace that had a horse pendant was dangling over me, i got him it for his birthday that he claimed to only wear when we have to put our act on but he wears it all time.

i clenched around matt for like the 4th time in the last 2 and half hours.

matt dropped himself down beside me. “it gets better every fucking time y/n i swear.” matt said before sucking a nipple into his mouth. “mhm, i know baby.” i closed my eyes and put a hand through his hair and down his neck.

he popped my nipple out of his mouth before looking up at me. “you wanna order food, we can fuck inbetween don’t worry, i just hungry as fuck when i have sex,” he leaned his chin between the gaps my boobs. “yeah i could eat something i’m starving,” i ran my hand over his cheek. “your choice to pick.” he said before kissing my lips and getting up to throw his pj pants back on. i looked up at him sprawled out on his bed, naked. “am i the only girl you’ve had in this bed?” i asked. “pretty much,” he grabbed his t-shirt from the ground. “i feel special,” i grinned. he jokingly rolled his eyes. “don’t worry, not gonna happen again,” “that’s what you say until you hear me moan your name while my vibartor is between my thighs,” i sat up. “you think of me?” he chuckled. i nodded my head. “my wife actually thinks of me while masturbating, im a lucky man.”

“yeah, no more sex.” i spoke before rolling my eyes.

[hunnylagoon]

Candy

PT1: Sober to Death

Ellie Williams x Reader

I’m home and here to stay like a ghost to haunt. You can’t shake me off your back for I linger in your head like carelessly uttered curse. Summer falls to ashes in my mouth and so I will spit them into your urn, just like that all of my devotion turns violent.

Premise: After a mental break you are being held together by nothing but glitter glue and craft yarn. You seek refuge with an old friend in a coastal town to live the life you thought you left behind.

Warnings: SENSITIVE THEMES / reader is a recovered addict / mentions of drug and alcohol abuse / angst / brief mentions of violence / possibly triggering discussions of drug addiction

Read at your own discretion

Inside me, something seethes. Inside me, some feral animal has been forced into a cage where it thrashes and screams. Perhaps I will turn into a snarling wolf and rip out the throats of each girl who made me go home crying in middle school. Maybe I will don the pelt of a sheep and surprise all of those who convinced me it was a good idea to try ketamine when I shed my cloak and reveal my long curled claws and fangs sharp as knives.

I'm heartless at worst and helpless at best.

I don't know how else to be. I was raised like a stick of dynamite lit from both ends and I can describe in detail how the earth warps beneath my feet or how I watch the sky bend until it snaps and collapses onto a body too tired to lift it back up.

Everything miles ahead of what I was, to them, I was only ever an addict. Cursed with the nickname 'popper' since tenth grade and everyone thought it to be nothing more than a joke they didn't know how I found serenity in the tablet of acid that rested on my tongue. 

It started with pot and drinking on the weekends then flew into full-blown benders when I swallowed back synthetic sunshine like it was candy. None of my friends thought I would end up with my back plastered on my dorm floor, eyes wide with what once was a bottle of pills frothing out of my mouth. 

It took me two overdoses to get here, had to put my white blood cells to work.

"I didn't think you'd be up this early," Joel smiled at me, he was nursing a mug of coffee, a plate in front of him with a half-eaten piece of toast and a golden yoke running onto the porcelain. That might've been my favourite thing about the farm, fresh eggs. Once you have them you can never go back to the sad pale grocery store eggs.

"That makes two of us," I pulled out a chair from the wooden dining table and sat down. Joel had put so much love into this home. These days I’m too nauseous to eat breakfast.

"Ellie doesn't even wake up this early," He took a slug of his black coffee, the scent was strong, filling up the entire house, I could smell it the second I woke up. "How's the room? Is everything to your liking?"

I had felt so guilty for free-loading off Joel whom I hadn't seen since I was twelve, it had been eight years. He sent me cards on my birthday every year but I never was able to grasp how close our parents had been. I'm pretty sure I was friends with Ellie when I was little, there were pictures of the two of us hugging each other and playing beneath sprinklers, my front teeth missing, Ellie covered head to toe in Spider-Man band-aids. I didn't have any recollection of us when we were close, as we got older we got more stiff around each other. When my family would visit, she would hang out with her friends and I would keep to myself. Of course, my parents moved us to the city where everything hit me too hard all at once. "It's perfect, thank you."

"It's pretty hard to peel yourself off that mattress, huh?" Joel smiled at me, showing me every ounce of warmth he had when I was a child.

I nod in response "So much more comfortable than those stiff dorm mattresses," It almost felt like I was making conversation with a ghost.

"Since you're up so early, care for a tour while I do some chores?" He asked. I had been here a few days already, though I just kept to myself I didn't want to impose on his pleasant life with his daughter who hadn't called him at three am sobbing because she had too many opioids. I had wandered briefly around the farm of course and I had remembered bits and pieces of it from my childhood but I felt so out of place that I mainly locked myself inside of my temporary room and lived through my friend's Instagram stories.

"I'd love to," I smile politely, unsure of what else to do. 

 "Do you think you're gonna go back to school?" Joel asked as he stood up with his plate and mug in hand and began to wash them in the stainless steel sink. "No pressure, there's life outside of a lecture hall."

This was a question I had been thinking about day in and day out. I was a year and then some into getting my degree when my 'fun habits' began spiralling uncontrollably. My parents had managed to snag me a two-year deferral so I could go to rehab and go back to school the following year but I was so full of shame that I shook with the thought of going back. For the first time in my life, I am afraid I have no real desires. 

When I was dead inside a motel bathtub, I thought I needed to be somewhere different but now that I'm there, I need to be someone different too. "I'm not really sure right now, just please don't tell my parents I said that."

"Secrets safe with me," He opens a cabinet and pulls out a bag of cat food, shaking it until a scrawny calico cat appears out of thin air. Pepper happily devours the food Joel puts in her little bowl. I remembered Pepper, she was a kitten way back then and I would cut open socks to make clothes for her. "You should just know that it's never too late."

Very early in my life, it was too late. "Thanks, Joel," Not yet a corpse and still I rot like all of my ambitions turn to sludge at my tired feet.

He looks around, exhaling a deep breath, trying to scope out anything else he has to do in the kitchen. "You outta get geared up, I'm gonna wake up Ellie then me and you can get to work."

I nod in agreement even though I'm not sure what he means by 'gear up' so I figure that's just him saying to put on a hoodie and some rain boots. I stand awkwardly by the door, waiting for Joel. Absentmindedly I rock back and forth on my heels hands clasped together. I'm twenty years old but I feel like I'm twelve again, trying to find a place for myself in someone else's life. 

I thought of the last time I was in this house. I was twelve, unaware of the future that awaited me, I had buried a time capsule with Ellie and her cousins somewhere on this property. Writing to my future self, talking about all of the things I should be. If only she saw the brain-rotten zombie that was her destiny.

My parents had told everyone back home I was backpacking across Australia and taking a break from academics to see the world. In the eyes of those who knew me well and were more than aware of what happened, it was a shame to them that I had wasted a sharp brain and a pretty face. It takes a whole lot of strength the endure myself.

It doesn't take long for Joel to walk back down the creaky stairs, Ellie trailing behind him, sleep in her eyes. She's in boxers and one of Joel's old t-shirts, hair still messy and unbrushed. Ellie yawns and gives me a little wave- it wasn't really a wave, just her raising a hand in my direction as an acknowledgment. 

We hadn't spoken much since I got here, I had met her in the past but we didn't know each other. A lot can change in eight years. She wasn't unfriendly toward me, we indulged in small talk and laughed at each other's jokes but each conversation was so shallow I wanted to lay face down and drown in them. 

Ellie goes straight for the fridge, unlike her dad, she pours milk into a sickly sweet cereal which seems cavity-inducing. She was back from college for the summer, taking advantage of her father's love and food. Joel walked over to where I was standing at the door, slipping into his mucking boots. "While you're both here," He says before looking at me "How much do you know about boats?"

I furrow my eyebrows "A good bit I guess?" I answer, figuring he was just trying to rekindle a spark between Ellie and me that had been put out eight years ago by rain, ocean spray, and vodka.

"Y'know, Els," He gestures towards me "This one used to work at her parent's marina, they tell me she's done a couple of repairs and I bet she could give you some pointers on how to fix up that boat." I'm confused by his words, this is the first I've heard about a boat. Joel can see the uncertainty on my face "Her uncle gave her a piece of shit boat last summer before she went back to school, over the year I guess some teenagers thought it was a good hideout and trashed it even more."

"Seriously?" Her head pokes up "It would be great if you could come down with me later, she just needs a little love," Ellie spoons some cereal into her mouth. I had always thought it weird how people spoke about their boats like they were women, I even caught myself doing it on occasion. "Only if you want to, of course."

"Sure," I agree, no idea how much repair this boat was in need of "I've got nothing better to do."

I could tell Joel counted this as a win. I knew he had been commuting with my parents and how desperately they wanted me to keep myself occupied for the summer. "Well, we've got some work to do, kiddo."

After a solid five hours of following Joel around like a duckling and re-learning all the names of the animals, I was walking with Ellie toward her pickup truck. "Wanna drive?" She asks as we walk to the long beaten driveway

"Oh, I can't." The coolness of the morning has ebbed away into a borderline unbearable heat, I wasn't sure how Ellie was absolutely unfazed in her Jeans, T-shirt, and trucker hat. 

"You never got your licence?"

"No, it got taken away."

She cracks a grin "Jeez, what did you do? Hit a pedestrian?" Ellie teases.

"Something like that," Truthfully, my licence got revoked after I got a DUI and swerved my car off the highway, I was too high to realize the danger I was in and laughed the entire time warm blood pooled from a gash in my head that had to be stapled shut. Luckily my parents can throw money at anything and the problem will go away. 

She hops in the truck, there are little bits and pieces of it that show how it's lived in. A rubber duck with sunglasses sits on the dashboard and I'm partially surprised it hasn't melted in the sweltering heat. 

As beautiful and scenic as the drive down to the docks is, it's also extremely awkward, only on my end, Ellie seems completely unfazed. Travelling down the dirt roads until we finally hit the pavement. 

The salty breeze of Andromeda Cove carries conversations of clubbing and tanning, mingling with the sweet scent of coconut sunscreen and sea salt. Colourful beach umbrellas dot the shoreline. Seagulls glide effortlessly overhead, their calls blending seamlessly with the distant laughter of beachgoers. Quaint shops and cafes line the bustling boardwalk, offering an array of surfboards, souvenirs, and freshly caught seafood delicacies.

The Cove was immune to those gross and bland modern buildings that looked like something I would've made in Minecraft as a kid. Everything down here was local and kept its charm even after all these years. "Do you ever miss it here?" 

"I don't remember much of it to be honest."

"Really?" She asks, taking a turn down to the docks "It doesn't seem like it was that long ago."

"Yeah, my memory just isn't very good." My lungs are burnt and my brain is fried. You could tell me that I was in cheerleading for five years of my life and I would probably believe you. 

"Alright." 

I hadn't remembered her being this quiet but then again I don't remember much, I should probably write down everything I can before Alzheimer's sets in. There are lapses in my mind where memories should live, I recall my life through glimpses.

Ellie takes her keys out of the ignition and hops out of the truck, leading me down the docks. I keep guessing in my head which boat belongs to her and then the second I spot it, I know and how I dread. It's a sailboat or what's left of one, sharpie graffiti scribbled all around it. The word 'wanderlust' had once been titled along the side though the first half was scratched out by what I assume were those teenagers Joel mentioned so it just said 'lust'.

Ellie had no problem climbing aboard, I on the other hand had doubts that it could support the weight of two people, let alone itself. There were chips of white paint scraped off, Ellie motioned for me to get on deck  "How long has this been abandoned?"

She waves me off  "There's freedom that comes with abandonment."

I raise an eyebrow "Sinking in a boat that's docked is a very lame way to die."

"Nah," She says "We can haunt the marina."

She holds out her hand for me to take it and with hesitation, I do. Stepping over the gap between the dock and the boat, I haul myself over the rails. Even in the dark, I could make that climb, it was almost like muscle memory from working at my parents marina summer after summer. "She's a beauty, yeah? In her own special kind of way," Ellie pats the side of the companionway. "I actually made some progress on it last summer, if you can believe me."

"I don't know if I can," I look around, following her as we duck into the saloon.

She reaches for a notebook with a pink sharpie clipped onto it on the table of the saloon and turns to face me "Whoever was here must've been a real wordsmith, what I can't figure out is how the words got out of the notebook and onto my walls." 

I crawl onto the cushioned V-berth to get a better look at all of the writing on the walls. Most of it had been poetry, not Edgar Allen Poe but the kind that only an angsty teenage girl on the verge of a mental break could've written. 

The Statue of Juliette:

May I ask what you have done to women?

That your hands have only learned to harm one

Hand after filthy hand

Is dragged

Groped

Caressed

Prodded

Over my rusted skin

The things I have seen

The things I have endured

No water can clean me

No blanket can warm me

Take a hammer to my bronze flesh

And I will thank you for your kindness

As my body crumbles and clatters against cobblestone

I am eternally grateful

For this is the gentlest act I have ever faced

"I know," Ellie says, and I look back to meet her sharp gaze "A real Sylvia Plath.”

"Is this your candle?" I reach for it on the ground, it's halfway through its life. A vanilla bean bath and bodyworks candle.

She takes it from my hand and gives it a sniff "I was wondering why it smelled so good in here, I just thought that was you." She places the candle back onto the saloon table "So, Neptune's daughter, where should we start?"

I snatch the notebook from the table and flip it open to a page clean of any writing. It takes a little less than fifteen minutes to seek out all of the trouble spots. Ellie followed behind me and nodded to everything that I was saying. 

The boat isn't in nearly as bad of condition as I expected. I suspected that the teenagers who occupied it while Ellie was away at college had all been girls, they took relatively good care of the boat aside from the graffiti, allegedly most of the damage had been there when Ellie got it from Tommy a year ago.

We now sat next to each other in the booth around the saloon table, the ocean rocked the boat beneath us ever so gently, the same way a mother would rock her child's cradle. I missed the sea when I was in college, on a bender I had driven three hours just to be back with it, it seemed the only safe place to let go and be reborn. I liked the sharpness of the air, the vastness of the horizon and the mystery beneath it. I thought I would rise from the seafoam a new woman the same way Aphrodite did but no, I threw up on the sandy shores and called my parents to make it go away.

I give the notebook over to Ellie, a new entry written in bright pink Sharpie amongst the poetry and anecdotes. 

Wanderlust's issues:

Mainsail and jib seem sketchy; Unfold the hoist for a full assessment

Wiring issues are out of my hands but a probable concern-should probably call in an expert

Nav instruments are cracked

Leaks on starboard window, probs cracked moulding

Interior woodwork is original, mainly solid despite a bit of mildew

Graffiti and chipped paint, graffiti likely cleanable (May need a new coat of paint)

Possible rigging issues

Underside? That's a question for the experts

Final Verdict: Wanderlust is a seaworthy vessel in need of some love

Ellie lets out a low whistle "God, I love a girl who knows the difference between a mainsail and a jib." She cracks a mischievous grin.

"You're teetering very close between sexy and crass," I tease her in return.

She seems a little taken aback by my comment, like she hadn't anticipated a response but ignores it nonetheless "What would it take to make you my first mate?"

"I'm sorry?"

"For someone with a bad memory, you seem to know your boats, Joel said that you used to work on charters. You gotta know more about sailing than me. It'll be a fun summer project, get you out of the house a bit."

I furrow my eyebrows as I look at her "You want me to work on the boat with you?"

Ellie nodded. She didn't rush to fill the silence that stretched between us, she didn't bother to sweeten the deal or hunt for some reason I would like working with her. She just let it stand. I looked her in the eyes, trying to figure her out. She goes from being almost non-verbal with me and now she asks me to spend the summer on a boat with her. I wondered if she knew what she was doing at all and if I would be carrying her through this.

I had a feeling that Ellie would become my next bad habit. It's easy to get addicted when everything interests you and nothing satisfies you. "I'm in."

"You won't regret this," Ellie almost jumps up, I swear I could've seen her making calculations in her head "So, I'm thinking we get rid of all this junk and get a good look at it bare bones, make a list of supplies and give her the spa day shes in desperate need of."

On my second day as first mate, I had been scrubbing away inside of the saloon while Ellie did some work on the exterior, my Scrub Daddy was being put to work. By the time I even made a dent in all of the Sharpie poetry, it was nearly falling apart and begging to be killed.

When I emerged from the companionway to replace my filthy bucket of water I spotted Ellie chatting up a girl on a dock. She had long glossy black hair that cascaded down her back in strategic ringlets. "So you're gonna sail on this thing?"

"Rebuilding her first," Ellie tells her, leaning against the railing. The girl she's speaking to looks like she's freezing, denim shorts cropped high and a white tank top.

"Do you need help?" She smiles and even I'm seduced by it. She has tanned skin that she's clearly been working on and sunglasses pushing back the silky hair from her forehead. "I've been on boats, lots of times," Her arms are crossed over her chest. I can see goosebumps all over her legs from the chill brought to us by the gray sky above and the frigid air. 

"That so?" Ellie asks, rising to her full height. A wrench in hand, it looks like the beginning of a really bad movie, not a family-friendly one. She saw me then, standing behind her. I watched her facade drop. Her smile changed as I approached, turning from flirt to friend in two seconds.

"Oh, hey," The black-haired girl regards me like I'm some kind of threat. "So do you need help or what?" 

Ellie looks at me and then back to her "Thanks for the offer but we're all set."

"Do you maybe wanna grab lunch or something?" She completely ignores me.

Ellie shakes her head "We've got lots of work to do, but-" She takes a deliberate pause and I almost cringe "I'll probably be at the shipwreck later. Stop by if you're around."

"See ya'," She grins and takes the sunglasses off the top of her head, placing them on the nose bridge before walking back down the dock.

"Wow," I dump my bucket of water over the rail of the boat "Looks like super difficult work out here, you are so brave." Sarcasm drips from my tone "Without you, who will flirt with all of the hot girls at the marina?"

"No need to be jealous," She says "I'm spending every waking minute with you after all."

I gave her the evil eye but I truly wasn't jealous. I didn't chase the thrill of a fling or late nights with girls whom I would forget by morning. I had dropped that by college and replaced it with ketamine and opioids, I abused liquor like I was its two-faced love. Now the only thing I chased was calmness. 

I wasn't jealous, just briefly reminiscing over how carefree I used to be. 

The tide was rolling and the sky above us was gray and angry as if something was raging within it. "Shit," I mutter, waves shifting from a distant hiss to a closer hush. The air hung heavy, I hadn't even noticed the change in weather from what seemed like the century I spent scrubbing away in the saloon. 

Ellie must've noticed what I was. "So, I'm thinking we should go?"

"You think?" I retort.

Moments later we're packed and rushing down the dock to find her truck. It doesn't take long for rain to begin to splatter on the ground beneath us, it isn't light and gentle, it's harsh. It sounds like pebbles being tossed onto a sheet of glass.

By the time we reach the truck, I'm soaked, hair sticking to my forehead and neck "You didn't want to poke your head into the saloon and say 'Hey, it's looking like there's gonna be a storm'?" 

"I was a little preoccupied," Ellie isn't much better off than I am, she takes off the flannel she had on top of her tank top and tosses it into the backseat, her tattoo out on full display. The rain is so heavy that everything on the outside of her truck looks like a blur. 

"Can you even drive in this?"

"No, can you?"

"No, I told you I have a DUI," The second the words leave my mouth I regret the slip-up. My eyes go wide and a hand slaps over my mouth, I'm acting like I just told her I was the one who took out JFK.

"You didn't tell me that."

"Well," I look forward, ignoring her piercing gaze, "I thought I did."

If not for the rain outside that pounded against the glass as if it wanted to be let in, we would've sat in complete silence while we drowned beneath all of the words going unsaid. My mind begins to wonder, first I think of the black-haired girl at the docks; I hope she didn't get stuck outside in the rain, especially with her lack of clothing. Then I think about what Ellie's thinking, did she know already? Had Joel told her? I'm humiliated all over again like I'd been when the paramedics dragged my half-naked body out of a bathtub.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" She asks. I don't say anything and she takes this as a hint "We don't have to talk about it."

I'm beginning to grow comfortable with the silence. I almost preferred it to the back-and-forth banter Joel and Ellie constantly had, which was more so father and daughter teasing each other.

Joel had probably known more about me than I did, my parents liked to keep him filled in after all. They just loved to keep tabs on me, if it was legal I'm sure they would put cameras behind my retinas and watch my every move. Eight months ago when I was in rehab, that was the most peace I've ever felt. As much as my parents wanted me clean, they held resentment since I ruined my life and was destroying theirs by association. Joel didn't seem like the type to gossip to his daughter but it nagged at me regardless. "Did Joel tell you anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just-like," I search through my brain to find the words "Like what I've been up to?"

She shrugged "He just said you are on a deferral and need a break from the city."

"Okay," I say, my voice so quiet it was almost smothered by the obnoxious rain. 

"Are you hungry?"

We had thrown on two jackets Ellie had in the back seat of the cars. She offered me Joel's black raincoat while she humbly took the bright yellow rain poncho. It took everything in me not to laugh at her, she looked like Georgie.

Ellie slung one arm around me, we were both hunched over as we ran as fast as we could. She was shouting stuff at me but I couldn't hear her through the rain, I just nodded in agreement and hoped she hadn't said something awful.

She tugged me left, the deluge chasing us into Salty's for cover. It was nearly dead in there, two other tables, one was an elderly couple and the other was a group of girls, laughing like hyenas while one of them showed the others a picture on her phone.

Ellie wasted no time in taking off her poncho and I didn't blame her, no one wanted to be seen in that. The second we settled into a booth by the huge glass window which took up the entire storefront, an over-eager waiter came up. He was tall, had dark hair and had handsome features, he must've been bored with how slow it was in here. "Hey, Jesse," Ellie said "Can I have water and a big-buck burger?"

He nodded and swerved his body to look at me, "Alright and for you-" He looked up from his notepad and paused for a moment before a huge smile cracked on his face "I haven't seen you in so long!" 

"Hi," I smiled, my mouth hanging openly awkwardly as I tried to recall him.

"Do you remember me?" He asked, his hand dropping to his side "Jesse," He reminded "We used to go to school together."

I had no idea who he was "Oh my god, yes!" I say "I remember."

His smile grows "God, you look so different."

"You too," I gesture at him "You're way more-" My mind falls flat "Grown."

He nods along to my words "Have you had a chance to look at the menu?"

Wanting this conversation as soon as possible I nod despite not even opening the menu “Yeah, I'll just get the, uh, big-buck and a club soda.” I repeated Ellie's order.

He jots it down onto his notepad "It'll be right up."

"Ellie, I don't know who that is," I say when I see him retreat to the server station to fill in the order. The entire restaurant is nautical-themed, the walls painted black, and there were nets with faux fish covering every square inch of the ceiling.

"Wow, I had no idea," She says, sarcastically "Damn, your memory really is fucked." 

Trust me, I know or at least I think I do. I disregard her comment "Water? Don't you wanna get rootbeer or something? Joel said you drink so much soda that your blood is made of corn syrup."

She grins "Gotta keep up the tough guy act."

Across the restaurant one of the girls waves to Ellie, this one has curly brown hair and a sundress "Hi, Ellie!"

Her eyebrows furrow "Hey there-um...you," Ellie said "Good to see you again."

The girl smiles slyly at Ellie before turning back to her friends. "Looks like I'm not the only one forgetting people, what's your excuse?"

"There's a lot of girls in the world, I can't remember all of their names."

"You must've gone through every girl in the cove, power to ya'," I say "No idea you had such a reputation."

"You don't know a lot about me."

I shrug "You know even less about me."

"I bet I could guess."

"Be my guest."

She leans back like she's carefully considering her next words, choosing them very wisely before she finally settles "You picked a major like communications and got bored quickly, decided you needed to do some soul searching. Probably read 'Eat, Prey, Love,' then went on a backpacking trip, expenses paid by your parents. Alternatively, you lived in a van and pretended to be a broke hippie."

I shook my head "Very cliche and you were only right about one thing."

"What?"

"I got bored quickly," The rain outside was failing to cease. Across from me, it looked like Ellie was calculating my every move. Her auburn hair was still wet, and from her hairline, a droplet of water dribbled down onto her button nose to rest on her cupid bow.

"Can I have a hint then?"

"No."

I see a realisation hit her "You partied with frat guys?"

I shook my head "I've always been too cool for them." I wasn't too cool for them, I was too fucked up to even know they were throwing a party until someone verbally informed me, by that point all I've ever done at a frat party was break in through a window and steal a keg like the disgusting fiend I was. It was nothing to be proud of, my friends thought it was hilarious and posted it on their Snapchat stories, egging me on and feeding into this sickening behaviour. What wasn't funny was how I got caught and winded up with a busted lip and broken rib. With pupils the size of my iris, I couldn't feel the pain I was in.

"Okay, now you have to tell me."

"I can't, I lose my mysterious allure."

The bell above the door chimes signalling the arrival of another customer and said customer makes a b-line for our table. She takes a seat next to Ellie "Jesse texted me that you were here.”

"Dina, were you at work?" Ellie furrows her eyebrows.

"Yeah, it's not like anyone's buying souvenirs right now and Jesse told me you finally came back," She whips her head to look over at me.

I genuinely remembered her, unlike Jesse. She had buried the time capsule with Ellie, her family and I. I also recalled how her older sister used to give us hand-me-down clothes. "Dina, hi."

She has freckles scattered across her face the same way that Ellie does. Her smile was so comforting, I forgot that I was soaked to my bones and shivering. "Well we should all do something together tonight," Dina grins "You're doing Ellie a huge favour by helping her fix that rig, she better give you some good head for it."

I almost choke on my saliva while Ellie just groans with disappointment like she had anticipated Dina saying something along those lines "D, you can't say that stuff around every girl I'm with, this is essentially my sister for the summer."

Dina raises her hands in defence "Sorry, my bad, I was unaware since you failed to mention that you have my old friend living with you." Ellie looks like she's going to say something but Dina speaks up again before she has the chance to "Let me give you my number."

Wordlessly, I hand my phone over to Dina who fills out her contact information and then gives my phone right back to me. I study Dina's face and her mannerisms, hoping that something might bring me back to my childhood which has been wiped away by every upper and downer you could put a name to. Something about her seemed familiar, maybe we had been closer friends than I thought.

I nod along to whatever she and Ellie are saying, chiming in random bits of dialogue but my mind is stuck on the two of them side by side. They're what I could've been if my family never moved us away and I hadn't turned my brain into sludge.

The life I could've had.

 Ellie smoked from what I knew, maybe Dina or Jesse were into something a little more hardcore. Hardcore? If hardcore qualifies as drowning in a concoction of cough syrup, Vicodin, codeine, and Gatorade to balance out the flavour of self-destruction. The bottles I swallowed to sleep, I showed up to almost every lecture high. Here I was handed what was nearly a good life and I tossed it away for something with a sweeter taste than a stable job and proper education.

The horrors I've committed. No good deed will ever outdo the bad that I have unleashed upon this godforsaken earth. From my clouded brain, paralyzing thoughts come to life to curse myself, the nightmare no mother would wish for her child to endure. 

Relapse after relapse, I would fall sick with the thought of how many times I had to relapse until I was finally clean and that bitter flavour washed from my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Dina asks with a smile and furrowed brows "We kind of lost you there."

It's one in the morning and I want to drink wine then slip beneath the rapid waters that will gladly pull me under and claim me as theirs.

Instead, I opt for a class of water. As Dina had said earlier, she wanted to get a bunch of friends together but the second we got home, I showered and locked myself away. Echoes of laughter and chatter drifted through my window.

I slip down the steps that lead to the kitchen. Outside the rain has finally dissipated and Ellie, Dina, Jesse, along with a handful of people I don't know crowd around a bonfire. The kitchen is illuminated only by moonlight, the moon hung over me as I poured myself water from the tap, a dead thing over a dying thing. 

I have seafoam in my veins and centuries-passed sunshine that induces my craving for some pills that will put me to sleep. Three months completely clean and yet that doesn't end the yearning for the drugs that comforted me more than any human ever had. 

The door cracks open and in comes Ellie, she's laughing and from the uncontrollable giggles, drowsy gaze, and slightly disoriented walking I can tell that she's been smoking. "Hey," She smiles at me, reaching passed me to grab a mug with Garfield on the front and fill it with water but she doesn't take a sip, she just sits it down on the counter behind us and stares at me.

Our faces only inches apart, I contemplate her next move. This close I can smell the marijuana on her and I almost want to scuttle upstairs and light a candle. Ellie hugs me, wrapping her arms around my midriff and letting her head find its resting place in the crook of my neck "Are you okay?"

"Mhm" She hums "I'm just glad you're here, whatever the circumstances are, I'm happy that you're helping me with the boat," I'm carrying almost her full way, and she's slouched against me "I love you man, I know you don't remember a lot from when we were kids but we had a lot of fun together."

"Thanks, Ellie," I give her a little pat on the back "That's really nice of you."

She peels herself away from me, using the counter to lean against instead. She looks me up and down, having an intense staring contest with my pyjamas "Do you wanna come out and smoke with everyone?" She's shed her tank top and thrown over a gray hoodie to shroud her from the oncoming cold.

I shake my head, no "I don't mess with that stuff."

"That's smart," She says "Have fun in your room, stowaway, I'll see you tomorrow to work on our boat," With that Ellie leaves without grabbing the Garfield mug she came in here for.

A/N: Hey, y’all. I’m aware I have a million open docs, I assure you they are all getting some love but I needed to come back to my roots and write some angst. These are some issues I have struggled with and I feel that it’s important to bring attention to it so it’s not taboo.

[saytrrose]

Can we see More about your racing AU please?

Looks so amazing and i love It so much

I do suppose I could share the character design line up!

I really just need to finish designing all the go karts, (atleast most are done!) and then I can make proper cards for them and really get into the written details.

To be honest it’s a little hard to just ramble about info and details without specific questions to go off of, so I’ll try my best hhh

for starters, the tent? Not a tent!

It’s actually a stadium, the amazing digital race!

And rooms? Sort of tweaked, they are more like each character owns a personal garage, a large open space where they store their vehicles and then have a loft above that showcases their cozy safe havens. Bed, entertainment, basically a small room in a much larger one.

I haven’t revealed Ragatha, Zooble or Gangles karts yet but I’ll go ahead and just talk about all of them!

Caine:

Caine has a motorcycle, specifically one inspired off of the motorcycle I’m saving up for this summer, a Kawasaki Eliminator. It’s a cruiser, I’m thinking he has a 600cc model but considering Bubble is his right hand man and operates as the races pit crew- he’s definitely tinkered with Caines bike, making adjustments and improving the engine. God only knows what the little psycho did, but it’s a damn good bike that’s not supposed to rev as loud as it does.

Pomni:

Her kart is inspired off a Volkswagen Beetle, seemed very VERY Pomni to me. Her car mimics her outfit design a lot, I might do some color changes to be honest but it will be super minimal, it’ll be final when the cards are done! She definitely stops at the pit the most often despite her placement in a race, are my tires okay?? Do I need my oil?? I know you just filled it but it went down- is anything damaged?? Sweetie you did one lap..

Jax:

Jesus Christ he has a giant supercharger on the hood of his car, and he is absolutely one of those annoying mfs that reva their engine OBNOXIOUSLY loud all the time like he’s super cool. If you’re wondering who most of the skid marks on the track are from, that’s also Jax. Hes the best as drifting, and he loves to show that off. His car isn’t based too much on an actual vehicle?? I stared at Mario karts and pieced it together, but also gave it a very sports car look, the wing on the back fr fr I think Jax would dig that.

Kinger:

OHHSOSK I was so creative with his little wagon,,, it’s castle shaped!! And the best part? Operates like a rocket. In the back past the battlement (the crown looking thing you see atop castle pillars) ARE GIANT exhaust pipes and yes, they do spit fire !! Operates like a rocket. It’s very cool! (Also he has a great muffler because unlike Jax he’s considerate of others hearing 💔) Oh also, he has one of those silly horns, I forgot how to describe it but you can just look at how I drew it on his kart and you’ll know heheh!

Zooble:

Our second motorcyclist, owns a trike! If you don’t know what that is, picture a bike with training wheels but super badass. 3 wheels! It’s inspired off the Harley Davidson freewheeler, I like that design a lot but it’s def not actually a Harley because istg when you buy those bikes your just paying for the fancy name brand- expect it to be in the shop all the time, smh not good- BUT ANYWAY!! The looks are inspired off it though and I can’t wait for this one because it’s just as crazy kooky as Zoobles design is.

Gangle:

Her kart is based on my favorite car, classic style but not too cool because you can bet she has anime stickers on the back and a decal that says “please let me merge before I start crying.” It’s similar to a karmann ghia convertible, 1963. Cherry red (so so pretty) She always has the top down, unless competing because damn you gotta go fast. That car itself is really slow, top speed normally is 68mph, however people have modified them enough to get up to 120mph. Thats still pretty slow compared to others, but her kart only reflects the appearance of the ghia! It’s much faster and I assume Bubble works on all their vehicles if asked to.

Lastly, Ragatha:

Our 3rd motorcyclist. 4 Karts, 3 cyclists. Her bike is a futuristic style, if you want a good idea then look up “icare bike”! Not so much a straight forward posture, she leans over ofc, you’ll likely get the idea when you see her bike. I’ll be honest, I haven’t gotten too into her design yet because I haven’t started drawing but!! Dark blue leds,, everywhere yes yes so cool ❤️

Sorry that’s so much 😭 but yeah! Just need to finish 3 kart designs for you guys and I can make official ref cards 👀

[itostea]

days off

warnings: just a lot of fluff!! you’re both lovesick for each other 

a/n: the ending is a bit rushed so oops 

It’s not often for your boyfriend to take a day off of practice. He’s a man built on the discipline of a routine, the kind of guy that you wouldn’t expect to ever skip a day. But Rin thinks he’s gotten too comfortable in his relationship with you–not that that’s a bad thing. Truthfully, he’s grown far too used to your company and today was no different. As a matter of fact, he thinks it’s even worse now as he was willing to take practice off just to laze around the living room with you. 

So here he was, sitting on the carpeted floor and listening to you ramble about some anime you just watched about volleyball. His fingers graze over the skin of your palm, tracing little patterns as he sits through your chatter and occasionally offering his own thoughts.

“Why are they using that boring power of friendship shit? Can’t they just score their own goals?”

“Huh? Goals? Are we talking about the same sport right now?” You laughed and the sound just makes him fall in love all over again. “Well, I guess for you, scoring points for yourself is probably more rewarding than having someone do it for you.”

With that, you’re off in your own world again: rambling as you twitch occasionally to sit in a different position. And he just listens, sitting quietly as he resumes playing with your fingers and hands. Rin thinks you’re so cute like this. He’s not very verbal and doesn’t voice his love very often. Yet, he just hopes you notice the fond look in his eyes–see how he’s enamored by your mere presence alone. 

“Then he–” you pause, tilting your head so you can gauge your boyfriend’s reaction. When you’re around him, you practically wear your emotions on your sleeve. It’s not like you could help it��especially when he was looking at you like that. It doesn’t help that Rin was so attractive too. You even think to yourself that there’s no way he could look that good in such a simple, black t-shirt! 

You feel your heart race as your hands impulsively pull him up so you can move onto his lap, hiding your face in his shoulder so he wouldn’t see the effect he had on you. It’s almost natural how his hand slides down your waist while the other brushes the skin of your neck. His voice is quiet against your head. “Tired?” 

You shake your head, not resisting when he leans back, pulling your head so he can see your face. For someone who looks so cold, his fingers sure are warm resting on your cheeks. You’re not sure if it’s normal for your boyfriend to be this clingy but you don’t complain when he reaches over to pepper light kisses all over your face. The feeling of his soft lips is ticklish and you can’t help but giggle. “Rin! What are you–” you laugh, holding onto him as he pushes you down on the couch. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see the slightest smile painted over his lips as he traps you underneath him–kissing you on the lips gently. You can’t help but grin widely at his sudden display of affection. “You’re more touchy than usual. You sure you wanna spend your day here being unproductive with me?” You ask, reaching up to cup his face. 

He presses a kiss on your palm, glancing down at you with a frown that’s awfully out of character. “Are you kicking me out?”

Once again, you laugh and shake your head in disbelief. “I just thought you would rather be playing football right now!”

“It’s fine,” he leans down for another kiss. “You worry too much.”

You smile as he continues his antics, only humming as he leans back up. “I was actually hoping for a different answer…”

“What?” Now he’s really frowning. “So you are kicking me out?”

“No I’m not,” your eyes roll at how dramatic he was yet you can’t resist a little smile. “I wanna go on a date with you.”

“Right now?” 

“Yes, right now,” you confirm. 

“Why didn’t you just say that before,” he deadpans, finally sitting up and sighing. Not even a minute passes before he gestures for you to get up, trying to keep his anticipation hidden from your peering eyes. 

“So is that a yes?” 

“I didn’t say no,” he mumbles.

Your embrace is sudden, filled with surprise as you laugh in success. “Then let’s go get boba! Oh can we try this new place out? I heard it’s good… Rin?” You mumble, feeling a newfound embarrassment as he watches you without blinking an eye. “You good?”

“Hm? Yeah,” he presses one final kiss on your forehead. “Let’s go get some food too.”

The sound of cheers makes him smile as he shakes his head. “Hurry up or else I’m leaving without you.”

“What? Don’t be mean Rin!” 

[ghostmaldo]

₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ ﾟNanami x GN!Reader ₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ ﾟ

₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ ﾟSide walk rule ₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ ﾟ

Because he totally would and I had to read what happened to this man, watch it be animated and then watch it AGAIN with my nephew. And I was not prepared each and every single time! So to help cope with his uh… accident, I’m going to pretend it never happened and instead write this cute little fic. Still GN because I feel as if anyone who is Nanami’s love interest is def not walking next to the side walk with him around. So there! End report.

Music while writing (I’M SORRY ITS SAD I NEEDED IT AND ITS GOOD): https://youtu.be/PeW7qRy4Ng0?si=y60zePjuRmo9Hqki

Now, on to the show.

No warnings, just some fluff

Ask box 💙: Open

“Uuuugggh It’s too early for this.” They groaned miserably while dragging their feet along the concrete. Tired eyes barely open and a long yawn escaping their lips. While their fellow Jujutsu Sorcerer walked along side them, wide awake with his head held straight. At least one of them was conscious for this meeting at this ungodly hour. “Come along (Y/N). The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”

They groaned once again. Raising their hands up to their eyes to attempt to rub the sleep out of them. It didn’t work. “Kento, you tell me that everytime we have one of these stupid meetings and every time Gojo always make it his *job* to make sure we stay so much longer then we need to.” It was Nanami’s turn to let out a small displeased groan. Knowing very well they were right by their statement. “It was worth a shot.” He grimaced.

(Y/N) walked a few steps… and halted suddenly. Looking to one side of them, they noticed Nanami standing a couple steps behind them. Unmoved and a look of concentration forming on his brows. “Nanami? Is everything alright?” They asked innocently, near too sweet for their own good. The sound of their voice caused Nanami to come back to the present. Abruptly shaking his head as his steps resumed as if nothing had happened. However, they watched as he walked toward them, arm extending out to snag them by the elbow and delicately pull them away from the busy street. Replacing himself in their place. Then, he motioned for their arm to wrap around his bicep, encouraging them to walk with him. Their eyes were wide with bewilderment, gazing at him with admiration. After the shock subsided, a wide smile ballooned onto their face. They buried their face into his shoulder; lovingly enough to cause the man to blush lightly.

“Your so sweet Ken~” He huffed at the nickname. Never would he ever allow anyone else to call him by such a sickingly sweet name. But for you? Well… he supposed he’d let it slide. “You should never walk next to the busy street. Not while I’m here at least.” He stated flatly, pushing his glasses up further onto his face to distract himself from utter cheesiness he was spewing. Gojo would taunt him relentlessly if he ever saw an inkling of this behavior. Which was one of the reasons he reserved this sort of mannerisms for the time he shared with their partner alone. And it just made things sweeter for (Y/N).

“Maybe after the meeting, if we have time, we could go to the bakery for coffee and maybe a treat?” The idea peeked Nanami’s interested. His blue icy eyes flickered over to them. A warm smiling playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe, if you can manage to stay awake the whole meeting.”

“Awww Nanami noooo.” They whined dramatically, playing pulling on the mans arm. “They always talk about such boring things, it’s not my fault!”

“Then I suppose no treats for you then.”

“Nanaaaammiiiin, you’re so meeeaaan!”

[yourlocaltreesimp]

To Live, To Love

For @trippygalaxy and their Linksona Shifter. Ive fluffified the boy. >:)

Take care of yourself goddamnit. KNOW YOU ARE LOVED!!!

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You’ve known since his journey had ‘concluded’ that Link was troubled. Not that the word even fully fits the capacity of what he must be feeling. The very goddess who made him into a hero, too young to bear his burdens, never let him know rest. Wherever there was trouble upon her lands, it was Link she sent to resolve it. By any means necessary. Now, no longer a child, your Link was as one could expect from someone of his circumstance. There was no longer a bright eyed wonder to see the world, for he’d already seen everything it had to offer him— the scraps of what others didn’t care to take. He carried each responsibility behind a literal and figurative mask of neutrality. He was strong, though it didn’t need saying and where there was any weakness, there was bite. Where he could not defend by blade was defended by sharp words and sharper stares. But behind that mask of control over himself and the world, there was a man. Not the Hero of Time, or whatever may have you. Behind the whittled wood he’s come to be known by, there was Link. Your Link. Link, who’d stumble into your home without an ounce of strength or power left in him. Link, whose wounds you'd tend to as he stubbornly insists he’s ok. Link, who would only begrudgingly accept the food and clothes you gave him, stabbed in the back one too many times to ever let himself be cared for. Link, who, after enough time to air out from the stress he was put under, would settle next to you in bed only to leave the next morning- Hylia calling him away. While you had him, He’d curl up, occasionally letting his head rest upon your chest. It was relieving to know that in a world where he was expected to be no short of perfect, he could crumple into your arms. You married him not for that man he showed to the world, but for these moments of fragility. You spent a while getting the tangles and knots out of his hair, neglect of travel making the task take longer, but it’s not as if you mind. You hardly noticed the shiver in Link’s body, the tremor of his breath, the flinch of his eyes. It wasn’t until he bolted upright, gasping beneath the mask that you realised what was wrong. Panic attacks were all except expected given everything he’d been through, and yet as he strained to breathe, a panicked eye met yours. You’d seen that state before, like an animal caught in the maw of a trap. Much the same way with him, both were caught by iron. Where the animals were caught by metal teeth, your love was caught by the buckle of the mask he wore. But it didn’t stop you from shuffling closer slowly, gauging his reaction. You took both of his hands in yours, kissing the knuckles.

“My love” He didn’t settle, his eyes darting around the dark of the room, his eyes caught on the full moon’s illumination through the shutter.

“Link” Your words were hardly even more than a whisper, catching him immediately.

“Focus on me alright? Nothing else matters right now” His Adam's apple bobs and he nods. The movement is stiff, hardly even there.

“Good. Take some deep breaths, feel my hands on yours.” He follows as you say until each inhale is less intense than the last.

“Well done.” You feel your own appreciation rise as one hand cups the side of his wooden mask.

“May I?” One eye looks back into yours, an emotion you can’t read because of the mask. I’m cutting himself off from the world, he may have cut you out too. But it wasn’t unfixable, especially because your relationship wasn’t ever as far as broken. One hand wrapped all the way around your wrist, firm and steady.

“I don’t think you want to” His voice just sounds worn and tired, any warning he meant to add to his words was lost.

“Why is that, my Dear?” You let your hand sink back, not wishing to pressure him. You hope the action will show him more curiosity rather than he owes you an answer.

“I-“ His eyes dart away and back to you, “I fear I am not the man you fell in love with anymore. That you will see me for what I am and not bear to see me anymore” There’s a tangible shake in his voice, a waver in his strength.

“Nonsense” You say, and he feels the blood rush to his very fingertips as you look at him like he’s worth something. A shaky scarred hand reaches up to lift the wood mask off his face. There’s a split in his skin -a scar, rather- that runs from his eyebrow down to his chin. It took everything in its wake, his right eye and exposed some of his teeth. There’s a few other marks, burns and the like. But despite the fact there’s less of Link than when you saw him last, you can’t help but feel like this is the most you’ve seen of him. He looks at you with the hope to be loved, that you’ll still accept him for what he is and not what he must pretend to be. You press a long kiss to his forehead before resting yours against his. His hands are hesitant to find their way around your hips.

“I love you” You sounded lovesick, your heart decided on him and no other. His mouth opened as if he tried to speak some form of protest, but he couldn’t argue through a kiss. The split in his lip was new, but nothing than couldn’t be adapted to, no part of him you couldn’t love. After a long while, you parted, gasping for air— albeit for a different reason this time around.

“How I’ve missed you, my beloved” He took you back in his arms, curling around you entirely. He was there the next morning when he woke up, and for many more after.

[randomficrecss]

My Hero Academia Fic Rec

i’m not super picky with my mha ships so here’s some of my fav fics for bakudeku, kiribaku, and tododeku! enjoy<3

KiriBaku

An Abundance of Penguin Shit by vixensheart

T | 295.1K | 25/25 | AU no quirks, AU animal handler, Slowburn, penguins, panic attacks

Penguins are overrated, in Katsuki's mind. They smell, they're loud, and they shit every ten minutes. How he ended up working with them, he doesn't know, but he hates it.

Okay, so maybe he needed a pay raise. Sue him. That doesn't mean he enjoys it. It's hard to enjoy getting bit every time he so much as looks at a penguin, after all. Let alone when he tries to handle one.

It certainly doesn't help that he keeps getting paired with Kirishima, who's all smiles and way too damn friendly for his own good.

~

Or, when Katsuki works as an animal handler because he's broke and hungry, and inadvertently warms up to both the penguins, and a certain red-haired boy.

I wasn’t looking for love (but then there you were) by dragontrappedinhumanskin

T | 35.5K | 1/1 | AU college, fluff and angst, strangers to lovers, first dates, public transportation, basketball player kirishima

(past child abuse)

Bakugo always fucking hated riding the subway every week, its crowded, loud and he's tired, but then he starts seeing the same redhead every time.

--

Katsuki blinked in disbelief. What the shit, he’s asking to play rock, paper, scissors. Is he fucking five years old? Who can be this stupid?! And he took his hand off the handle, does he want to fall?

Katsuki glared at him, but the redhead just smiled, and his eyes glint with a challenge, and before Katsuki can really think it through he’s taking his free hand and making a fist in front of himself.

The redhead’s smile turned less challenging and more cheerful, and Katsuki decided that this might not be that bad. He’s going to fucking crush him at rock, paper, scissors, even if it’s a stupid game.

neon season by chonideno

T | 26.3K | 1/1 | AU no quirks, road trips, aged up characters, sharing a bed, happy ending

the car is old and the road is long. nothing truly feels real, gas stations are empty, hotel rooms are on another plane of existence, street lights flicker when they walk past them. the fabric of their relationship changes a bit with every new city they drive through, progressively muffling the buzzing static of their thoughts

or how kirishima and bakugou share food, beds, bodies, and refuse to admit they want it to last

slow it down (go easy on me) by newamsterdam

T | 26.9K | 3/3 | time travel, marriage, future fic, angst with a happy ending

It’s at that moment that Bakugou realizes something is very, very wrong. He glances down at himself and sees scars he’s never had before along his arms, little nicks and scratches he’d never have been oblivious to. When he reaches up, his limbs feel longer, and as he staggers to his feet he stands several centimeters taller than he had, last thing he knew. He glances at the mirror, catches sight of his reflection, and screams.

One of the doors on the opposite side of the room bursts open, steam spilling out into the bedroom. A man crosses the room in quick strides, looking around for some enemy he can’t yet see.

No, not just a man. Kirishima.

When a confrontation with a villain throws Bakugou through time, he's forced to face a future he never imagined, and maybe something he can't leave behind.

the easy parts by chonideno

T | 11.6K | 1/1 | hurt/comfort, canon compliant, scars, insecurity, happy ending

Kirishima made it out alive but his body is covered in wounds that won't heal without leaving marks behind. He hides them away from the sight of others, away from his own, and he hates every part of it. Bakugou watches him reduce his own character to a parody of what it used to be, and he can't stand it.

Or how Bakugou and Kirishima learn to deal with these scars, with themselves, with each other.

Tonight, We’re the Sea by idratherhaveyou

M | 60.7K | 11/11 | AU no quirks, slowburn, hurt/comfort, soft, the ocean

Kirishima goes to a quiet seaside town to take care of his grandmother after she has a bad fall. There he meets Bakugou Katsuki and falls in love.

TodoDeku

sore must be the storm by Pouler (poulerslashes)

T | 10.4K | 1/1 | injury, claustrophobia, near death scenario, hurt/comfort, aged up characters, future fic

(past child abuse)

“We were in a fight,” he said.

“Yes,” Todoroki returned.

“And now we’re trapped?”

“Yes.”

“Under a building.”

“So it would seem.”

Two friends share time and words together as they try to keep a dark situation from turning into a hopeless one.

Summer Stars by PitViperOfDoom

T | 61.2K | 13/13 | hurt/comfort, mutual pining

(past child abuse)

It's been judged safe to send the students of UA home to their families for the first three weeks of summer, much to the relief of everyone whose name isn't Todoroki Shouto. Luckily, Midoriya has a solution for him, and Midoriya Inko has a lot of love to give.

i love you like the sun came out by unreemarkable

T | 46.5K | 6/6 | fluff, angst, developing relationship

(reference child abuse)

Todoroki Shouto is untouchable, until he isn't. What comes after goes a little like this.

[In which Todoroki falls, slowly, steadily, with his eyes wide open.]

Hooked On You by Trenchcoatkitten (love this one bc i just started crocheting like 2 months ago!)

T | 23.3K | 3/3 | crochet AU, college students, getting together, quirkless AU

While looking for a way to get a sweater for his dog, Shouto finds that he may be able to make one himself–and his main way to learn how is from a streamer with gnarled, scarred hands and a very kind voice that Shouto is rapidly coming to like.

OR

The crochet au that nobody asked for but I decided to write because it's like chicken soup for the soul.

prince & prince by Authoress

E | 183K | 22/22 | princes AU, arranged marriage, quirks equal royalty, undercover deku, slowbuild, hurt/comfort

Note to self: don't accidentally fall in love with a prince who's in an arranged marriage keeping your kingdoms from declaring war against each other. Especially when you're spying on him as his manservant.

Checks and Balances by indirectkissesiniceland (literally my fav omg, read the whole series!!)

T | 113.8K | 30/30 | AU college, hockey, cheerleaders, slowburn, friends to lovers

(referenced child abuse)

Izuku Midoriya was a competitive cheerleader up until an injury to his hand made tumbling and stunting an impossibility. It's devastating to think that cheer could be out of his life for good—until a pair of enthusiastic classmates show up at Izuku's dorm room with a signup sheet for a new hockey cheerleading club. All that's left to do is learn how exactly hockey works...and try not to think too much about the prodigious freshman right wing, who's just about the most wonderful person Izuku's ever met.

Shouto Todoroki has eaten, slept, and breathed hockey his whole life. He's got a legacy to live up to with his pro-hockey old man, and he's no stranger to the scrutiny and expectations of his coaches and teammates. It's different now that he plays for UA, though. He's got a former pro coach who sees potential in him and teammates who might actually like him as a person. Then there's the cheerleading captain, who's kind and compassionate in a way Shouto's never known—and who won't rest until Shouto stops dismissing hockey as nothing more than his old man's game.

When He Sees Me by Trenchcoatkitten

no rating | 81.1K | 14/14 | AU no quirks, blind midoriya izuku, dancer todoroki shouto, angst with a happy ending

(referenced child abuse)

“Sorry,” Midoriya says. “I tend to get off in my own little world sometimes. Guess I just talk a lot. Hope that won't bother you.”

“It's fine. I don't talk very much.”

Midoriya grins again, lighting up the booth brighter than the light hanging over the table. “We're a perfect pair, then!”

xx

Todoroki Shouto moves in with someone he's never met, just while he's in town for his show. He's never really known what home could mean, and, well, Izuku's the perfect ball of sunshine to show him.

Basically, this is a Blind!Izuku and Dancer!Shouto AU :)

BakuDeku

i was a little bit lost (but i’m not anymore) by starkliquors

E | 58.7K | 9/9 | AU sugar daddy, ABO dynamics, kid fic, sugar daddy bakugo,

Struggling as a single parent sucks. Especially when he had so many other responsibilities. So when Izuku asks his best friend to help him find a better job, he doesn't expect that to lead to becoming the sugar baby of the Symbol of Victory himself, Ground Zero.

No Perfect Time by ThyNameNotSpoken (read part 2 if u like shinsou hitoshi/kaminari denki, it’s so good)

E | 73.9K | 9/9 | hurt/comfort, dad katsuki, quirkless midoriya, eventual smut, single parents

Katsuki Bakugo has lived his life with no regrets. He goes all in. He doesn’t lose. He doesn’t fail.

Until he does.

Now he's stuck taking care of a baby he swore to protect.

But he needs help. He knows now that he can't do everything alone. That's how Izuku comes into his life. . .and never leaves

Baby Face by VersaceThong (classic “who did this to you” fic)

E | 16.5K | 1/1 | friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, trauma, injury, scar, falling in love, sexual content

A thick bloody gash runs from Deku’s right brow, across the bridge of his nose, over his cheek, and all the way down to the edge of his jaw. A sickening, jagged line etched diagonally over his face, wide enough to miss one of his eyes by mere milimeters.

He almost crashes into Deku, grabbing his arm in one hand and his face in the other. Katsuki’s index and thumb press into either side of his jaw, squishing Deku’s cheeks together.

With a voice so low he doesn’t recognize it as his own, Katsuki grinds out his words.

“Who did this to you?”

______________________________

Or; a villain leaves a scar on Deku's face and Katsuki absolutely loses it.

[vivihar]

i have so much to say about tomerus so it’s going here

so first they’re the divorced couple who hate eachother and are mildly successful and have lives for themselves and mansions and cars and severus is eyeing young boys across the room at posh parties and tom is glaring at the back of his head daring him to even try and get anyone that is him and they’re dancing with two different people, kissing them, letting their hands trail while keeping full eye contact and smiling at each other JUST TO RUB IT IN

and they probably try and kill eachother and talk shit about each other to other party goers who are just wanting to chat abt like…rich people shit idk. and then they accidentally find each other in the bathroom and they’re like wild animals clawing and gripping and biting at each other and then walking out like it’s nothing just to go back to shit talking each other until tom gets a message that says ‘i’ll pay for your cab’ so yes he IS going to see his annoying but sexy ex husband

————

and they’re DEFINITELY the ‘you’re going to kill me?’ ‘i’ll do just that.’ ‘well, go ahead.’ ‘i’ll do this my own way.’ ‘you won’t do it. you can’t pull the trigger. you can’t do it because you love me. it takes a very brave and cold man to do that, sev. i don’t think you can. isn’t that true? isn’t that why you’re waiting?’ ‘that’s not true-’ ‘or is it because you want to watch your victim? you want my heart to constrict with agony, my hands to shake. you want me to plead for my life so you can make a generous gesture and spare me.’ while dressed like this

————

i love a good jennifer’s body reference and especially loser sev, jennifer tom js bc of the whole plot of the film and the homoerotic friendship with a hint of ‘you’re killing people!!’ ‘no, i’m killing boys.’

————

tbh i LIKE tom being in charge but severus having a man that stays at home and does whatever he asks is also a very big thing for me with them…like severus makes him wear a cute dressing gown (i put below) and stay at home just being pretty and he just wants someone to bring along to his expensive parties to piss off his old ex husbands with his smile saying ‘look how cute my husband is’ with tom just nodding along to whatever he says.

————

i think they definitely have each others names/initials carved into them somewhere and their bite marks tattooed (at most scarred) into their skin…btw…

OKAY IM DONE !! LOVE YOU VIVI !!

(these are the fits for the first paragraph but i found of them too late)

I was thinking about Fem Tomerus these few days and this kinda made me think about them more thanky.

Also I agree, they would be so petty and have bickerings a lot and other people just be tired of their shit😭 'go marry again leave us alone'

And I know Tom only divorced because he was like "I don't even care about you" lying to himself and now he's all pissed his ex husband is single and others could lay hand on him which comes the bathroom scene lol he would try leave marks as much as he can so other people wouldn't want to be together with Sev.

The dress are in point 😭they would wear all classy and act like toddlers fight always and do their whole dramatic talkings. They're so pathetic it's funny, I think I'm going to make few divorced Tomerus posts after this because it's so funny 😭😭.

I don't remember anything from Jen's body so I probably will rewatch it for only this,,

Btw that's literally canon. Voldemort was making plans and other things but like Lucius was the one in ministry, he makes his followers do the things while he spend time at home lol I like him being rich lover for Severus (because Sev is my fav and I need him get spoiled by someone) but this is canonish so I understand where you come from.

Ooh you're soooo right, Tom would 100% make Severus carry his initials and after being married Tom for a long time Severus would be more confident with what he wants and start to have same interests as Tom's (being obsessively and freaky). I think Tom has initials on Sev and Severus has his bite mark scared on Tom.

I love you too darling 🧡

[its-haughty]

made a new story and cast of characters because i’m insane…

Welcome to Full-Body Attack!! A parody of the action hero/super genre where instead of this super charismatic hero who needs to save his city from evil bad guys, it’s just this tired guy who’s armed with a shovel and infinite revives… …The only thing that Shane shares with a true hero is the unbridled determination and selflessness which he sometimes takes to the extreme.

World building and info on shane under the cut

WORLD BUILDING

Parasites live in this world like animals do, however they’re quite rare and were only recently discovered only a few decades ago… There’s still up incoming science related to their existence because of this

Parasites can talk and can only hold powers if they fed off a human/host, using them as a power source - parasites choose humans in particular as they’re one of the most long lived organisms while also being entertaining

When someone has a parasite attached to them: they require more food, sleep, and are just abit more tired than the average person

Mentally handicapped people are the ones most prone to being attached to a parasite as they’re more vulnerable and can stick around unnoticed by their host much easier (the symptoms of having a parasite in some cases don’t feel very noticeable as the person may already suffer from lack of sleep for example)

Usually Parasites don’t make themselves known to their host right away… To ensure they can live their life relatively conflict free!!

BUT when parasites do become noticed by their host whether the host has caught on or the parasite accidentally poked their head out of smt- they almost always strike a deal: To grant the host a power that matches the host’s personality (eg: vigilance = supernaturally strong senses or hearing) in exchange the host must let the parasite live inside them to keep their power

So because of this, parasites and humans try/normally have a symbiotic relationship where both parties are happy

In the city that Shane lives in, Mako is the ceo of two companies: a public and well known pharmaceutical company and a private crime fighting organisation called Symbiosis. Hiring hosts and training them to become heroes in order to take down villains who cause havoc to cities all over different states

———

SHANE AND PERRY

Tired, reserved and very chill guy who wants a good nap and enough money to pay for himself and his family. Complete opposite to Perry who’s mischievous and has a thrill of action. The two bicker a lot but they’ve grown fond of eachother and have a good friendship!

While Shane doesn’t care about himself, he cares a whole ton about his family and his sister, Nadia. He’ll care for himself if it’s for someone he loves. However, Perry does care a lot about Shane, at first it was for the sake of his own survival but it started to devolve into genuine endearment to the man!

Had Perry for awhile since childhood but was unaware he did until adulthood during a freak accident. While driving to his parent’s house to visit his sister, he’d accidentally ram into a deer which would’ve killed him if it wasn’t for his absolute determination and desperation to stay alive for Nadia… It’s then he’d strike a deal with Perry to grant him the ability to come back after death. Not all heroes come from badass origins stories.

But nevertheless is a pretty sick power, Mako thought so too, offering him a job to be an action hero! Shane would take the offer and now it’d kickstart his new life of zany Villain of the Week adventures

Shane is a huuuge nerd deep down and a part of him also likes to pretend he’s this sick ass hero…. Perry indulges this

Does want to do good if he can, his moral backbone is flawed if money is on the line but if he realises the villains aren’t all bad either then it feels kinda bad to beat them up, right? wait maverick what are you doing here

[f4rlands]

Hi!! I’m so curious about your busk au!! (Also, absolutely adore trans fem scar and need more things with her, the way I got so excited!!) but yea would love to know more about it! :D (also oooo is it scarian??) (also also! I hope you have a great day!)

HI!! HECK YEAH HECK YEAH, BUSK AU IS LIKE MY BABY I'LL TAKE ANY EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT IT

it's actually a grumbo au! it's essentially just a slowburn romance between them, with a very meet-cute beginning and some very angsty backstories (particularly mumbo im so sorry mr jumbo my beloved...). i don't want to spoil too much in the first ask about it, but i can definitely talk a bit about the plot and characters in it!! i don't imagine i'll end up writing a series for it like i had originally wanted to, so i'm very happy to talk about mostly anything!!

anyway! the general overview!

the au is set in a touristy coastal town, and it follows grian and mumbo, two busks. grian plays the guitar, and he has been since he was very young - it's his one true passion. he wants nothing more than to turn it into a career, to be able to share his music and inspire other people with his creations, but so far it's... not been working out. he works three jobs, just about making ends meet, and he's just like,, chronically tired. this poor man.

anyway, he busks for fun, just to see the way that people flock to his music, and it's a good way to make some extra cash!

mumbo is essentially his opposite - he busks because he doesn't really know what else to do. he enjoys playing the piano, sure, but he doesn't necessarily have a passion for it in the same way that grian does. he's an engineer, making plenty of money to live comfortably and still have a decent chunk of spare time, so he has a massive range of hobbies. he's not necessarily amazing at any of them, but he's decent and they keep him busy, so he's not about to complain.

he started songwriting a couple of years ago, but he daren't play anyone his music because he doesn't think he could stand their disapproval if they thought it was bad. instead, he tends to play seasonal music when he busks - summery, christmassy, and everything inbetween. he plays what people want to hear, and holds anything different close to his chest.

the pair of them play in a similar part of the town centre, on opposite ends of a broad central plaza, but they haven't ever really spoken. until, of course, they do :) i won't get into their meeting now, simply because this post is already long as hell, but i'm very happy to talk about it in another ask, if you were interested!!

and also, YES TRANSFEM SCAR. SHE'S MY EVERYTHING!! she's grian's best friend, an animator who largely works from her own studio and - whenever she has free time - draws caricatures for tourists next to where ever grian happens to be playing that night! :D

(we also have transmasc grian and nb pearl teehee >:))

[ladyinbooks]

About 300 million years ago, @fairflimsyficklefairy talked of a scenario where Hess ends up adopting a dog (and wreaking vengeance on its previous owner). I loved this idea an awful lot, and promised a ficlet. At last, it’s finished! (And @fairflimsyficklefairy I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.)

Title: Worse than his bark Summary: Hespherus Jones: dog dad. Warnings: Usual Hess shenanigans; non-descriptive mention of animal neglect; surprisingly fluffy

“You’ve…got a dog,” Hess says, blinking at Dan.

He’s standing in the living room, shirtsleeves rolled up, hands on his hips as he stares at the bundle Dan’s holding in his arms. He looks disturbingly normal – just another doctor, finished work for the day. A little rumpled and tired, and staring bemusedly at the stray his partner’s picked up.

Were this any other time – any other man, Dan thinks dryly – the whole situation might almost be true.

“He’s a rescue,” he says, and watches the way Hess tilts his head. “We got a call this afternoon from a concerned neighbour. They were going to phone the RSPCA to come and collect him, but –”

“You brought him home instead,” Hess finishes. He blinks again. “And you thought this was a good idea?”

“It’s my house. I can get a dog if I want.”

“You can,” Hess says slowly. “I’m just not entirely sure why you’d want one, but –”

“Because sometimes it’s nice to have someone around who isn’t you!” Dan snaps, a little more viciously than he’d meant to.

The tone of his voice makes the pup in his arms shiver. Guiltily, Dan holds him a little more gently, rubbing his side reassuringly with a thumb. It’s not the poor thing’s fault that he’s been dropped into the middle of a typical Wednesday afternoon meeting of the Hespherus Jones Jealousy Club.

Hess raises an eyebrow. “And does he have a name?” he asks, and for one ridiculous moment, Dan thinks he’s got away with the whole thing.

“Angus.”

“Angus,” Hess repeats. He takes three steps forward and plucks the dog from Dan’s arms, before Dan can stop him.

“No, wait –”

Hess holds the dog up high over his head, face tipped back to look at him. From this angle, the size of Angus’ paws, and the sturdy block of his body are more pronounced. Dan’s not entirely sure what breed he is – a mix of many – but the softness of his big brown eyes had tugged at a part of himself he’d thought long buried.

“Angus,” Hess says again, and this time it’s much gentler. In his grip Angus wriggles a little, smashing one hefty paw down onto Hess’s forehead.

“Give him back,” Dan says. “Don’t you dare –”

The look Hess shoots him from under Angus’s paw is scornful. “Don’t be so bloody ridiculous,” he says sharply. “I’m not going to hurt him.” Carefully, he lowers Angus until he’s cradled against his chest. “He needs a bath.”

“He needs a…”

Oh God. This is it. Dan has finally lost it, hasn’t he? He’s actually standing here, in his own living room, with a man who has so many issues that he’s prepared to murder someone for looking at Dan in the wrong way, and he’s –

Talking about giving the dog a bath.

Dan swallows back a tiny hiccup of hysterical laughter. “Are you going to bathe him?”

“Of course.” Hess drops a small kiss to the top of the dog’s head. “He needs flea treatment too, and a wormer. Is there a vet local to us?”

Yes, Dan’s finally lost his grip on reality. It’s the only explanation. He’s standing here, and the Beast is talking to him about flea treatment. Good God. It really is the end of the world.

“I’ll see if I can find out,” he says, hopelessly wrong-footed.

“If you can’t find anyone, ask Abi,” Hess says absently. “She’ll be able to look someone up.”

“Right,” Dan says, dazed, as Hess makes a gentle little cooing noise at the dog. “I’ll look now.”

He watches as Hess wanders out of the room, talking softly to the bundle wrapped up in his arms. The whole thing is bizarrely normal, to the point it’s making Dan’s head hurt.

If he’s honest, this wasn’t at all what he expected when he brought the dog home. He’d half anticipated a flat-out argument, and Hess banning Angus from anywhere that could be considered shared space at all. Worse, he’d had the worrying thought that Hess might get rid of the dog altogether.

“I’ve fucking lost it,” Dan says quietly to himself, as he hears Hess coo something in the kitchen.

Then he goes to find his phone, so he can look up a vet.

********

“You’ve…got a dog,” Abaddon says, blankly horrified.

The look on her face is priceless, and Hess takes a moment to revel in it.

He’s got Angus perched on his desk, letting the pup gnaw at his fingers. His sharp little baby teeth are wickedly painful whenever they catch a knuckle, but it’s worth it for the lack of destroyed paperwork and Abaddon’s expression.

“Dan found him,” he says with exactly the right amount of cheerful menace to have her frowning. “He wanted to keep him.”

“And you let him?”

“There was no ‘let’ about it. I wanted to keep him too.”

Abaddon eyes Angus dubiously. “You wanted to keep a puppy.”

“No, not just any puppy. I wanted to keep Angus.”

“You’ve named it?” Her expression sours even further. “Now you’ll never get rid of it.”

A particularly vicious nip to Hess’s thumb has him wincing. When he looks down, Angus has his oversized paws wrapped around one of Hess’s wrists. He’s gumming away happily, the look on his blunt little face suspiciously content.

“I’m not planning to get rid of him,” Hess says, softer than he meant to. He hears the small, stifled noise of alarm that Abaddon lets slip, and jerks his head up to look at her.

“Is that a problem?” he asks coldly.

“It’s not really in keeping with your image, is it?” she says. “I mean, having a puppy here while you’re working sends out the wrong message.”

Angus grumbles to himself as Hess pulls his fingers away. He scratches behind the pup’s ears, and raises an eyebrow at Abaddon. “I think it sends out precisely the right message.”

“What, ‘I’ll look after you, if you’re cute enough’?”

“Abaddon.”

It’s the limits of what she can get away with, and they both know it. She scowls, and huffs out an exasperated little sigh. “Fine. Don’t blame me when you push more subordinates in the direction of the rebellion.”

This time he smiles at her, and it is all teeth. Abaddon is too careful to flinch – she knows better than to show such weakness – but she stills. And for a moment, Hess is positive they are both thinking about the last time he was wrists-deep in her, and how she very nearly didn’t walk away after her own little attempt at insubordination.

“If you hear any suggestions that the other side are gaining more of our people,” he says, “then you will tell me immediately. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she says curtly. Angus lets out a soft little yap, disgruntled now he has nothing to gnaw on. Abaddon’s gaze flickers down to him. “And the… animal?”

“He stays.”

Her mouth very pointedly doesn’t curl into a sneer.

“Fine,” she says. “Just don’t ask for help when it pisses on the carpet.”

********

“You… got a dog,” Raum says, surprised.

The Beast had called him into his office. That hadn’t been a shock – the boss likes to touch base with any demon that’s been Above for a long stretch – but the sight of an oversized mutt gambolling its way across the floor to chew on Raum’s shoelaces is definitely not what he was expecting.

“Is it a problem?” the Beast asks, without looking up from the papers on his desk.

It’s not. But even if it were, Raum isn’t stupid enough to say so. Absently, he reaches down to run a thumb over the fur on the little menace’s head. Its coat is short, but surprisingly soft.

“Not a problem,” he says. From the corner of his eye, he sees the boss glance up, and for a moment he seems to pause. But when Raum looks at him, he’s already shuffling through his papers again.

“Good, because I have a job for you.”

“Oh.”

There’s an odd swelling of something like pride, sitting in Raum’s chest. The boss doesn’t pick just anyone for jobs. There’s only the chosen few: trusted. Loyal. Until now Raum hadn’t even been sure the Beast really knew who he was.

“Paul Stafford. Forty-eight years old. Arrested two weeks ago on a charge of animal cruelty.” The Beast’s lips thin, and Raum feels a frisson of unease. “The arresting officer was PC Daniel Waters.”

Ah. It’s starting to make sense.

Raum has met the Beast’s Consort before, although he doesn’t think the man remembers. Daniel had fished him out of a fountain, saving him from fighting some drunken idiot in Trafalgar Square. Raum hadn’t particularly wanted that fight, and luckily for him he’d been saved in time by a stern-faced handsome man, who hadn’t treated him any differently to anyone else.

It had been… something of a revelation.

“Raum,” the Beast says patiently, and Raum blinks at him.

“Boss?”

“You’re not to let Dan know about this. Do I make myself clear?”

There’s no threat to his words – mostly because there doesn’t need to be. The Beast’s gaze is perfectly level; his expression neutral. He has his hands folded on the desk in front of him, as he watches Raum.

“Not a word,” Raum agrees. He looks down at the puppy still chewing on his shoelaces. “So, when you say a job…”

“I want him dealt with.”

“Painfully?”

A flash of teeth, white and sharp. “Slowly,” the Beast says. “And as messily as possible.” He leans back in his chair, still watching Raum. “I’ll deal with the necessary paperwork in the meantime.”

Humans, Raum has learnt over the last couple of years, do love their paperwork. So it’s generous of his boss to cover that for him – to leave him with the tasty parts of a job, without the tediousness that usually comes with filing for an extraction from Above.

“I’ll get it sorted,” he promises.

He pats the puppy on the head, and carefully removes his shoelaces from its mouth. He gets a sharp little nip in retaliation, but he’s had far, far worse. Besides, he knows it was an accident.

Raum’s got his fingers on the doorhandle, when the Beast clears his throat.

“Oh, and Raum?”

He looks over his shoulder. The Beast is still watching him; still perfectly calm and level. But there’s something sharp in the way he tilts his head; in the small, sly curve at the edges of his lips. He’s human, Raum knows, but nowhere human enough.

“Yes, boss?”

“Be creative.”

********

It’s not so much movement that wakes Dan, as its absence.

Hess has always been a twitchy sleeper. He tosses and turns, digging elbows into Dan’s sides and generally making a nuisance of himself, unless he’s wrapped around Dan so tightly it feels like their heartbeats are pressed together. He talks sometimes, too: muttering to himself in his sleep, in tongues that make Dan’s ears hurt.

Which is why, at half past midnight on a Wednesday, Dan is woken up by a decided lack of restlessness.

When he slides a hand across the sheets, the mattress next to him is warm. It means Hess can’t have gone far. For a moment he contemplates getting up to go and find him. But Hess is unlikely to be causing chaos at this time in the morning, and anyway Dan is half-certain he can hear him moving around in the next room.

He’s almost dozed back off to sleep, when Hess pads back into the room.

Dan cracks an eye open. In the darkness, he can just make out the broad width of Hess’s shoulders; the bowed dip of his head. He’s cradling something in his arms, careful and gentle as he slides back into the bed, settling on his side with his back to Dan.

“There,” he whispers quietly, and there’s a soft little thump as he deposits his burden down too. “Now, stop fussing.”

A little whuff of satisfaction has Dan blinking further awake. He could have sworn that sounded like –

“No,” Hess says softly, and not at all sternly. “Settle down now. You know the deal.”

Another little grumble, and Dan hears the unmistakable sounds of Angus scuffling around, as though he’s looking for a place to collapse. Even with the room so dark, Dan’s almost sure he can see a small little head pop up to look at him from over Hess’s hip.

He watches, and eventually there’s a yawn and the snap of sharp little puppy teeth clicking together. Another soft whump and then everything goes still again.

“He was crying in the kitchen,” Hess whispers, and it makes Dan jump guiltily, caught in the act of watching the pair of them.

“Yeah, but he’s still meant to stay in the kitchen.”

“He was crying,” Hess repeats stubbornly.

Dan’s lost this argument before it’s even begun. He sighs and rolls over onto his side too, staring hard at the bare curve of Hess’s shoulder. “And what happens when he grows? He’s going to be too big to fit on the bed.”

“We’ll get a bigger bed.” Hess says simply.

Of course we will, Dan thinks tiredly. Of course.

Because that makes perfect sense. The Beast, soft over nothing except a mistreated pup who is – apparently – going to be coddled like a little emperor.

“You’re washing the sheets when he moults,” he says to Hess, instead of half the things he’d like to.

“I wash them anyway.”

He does. Dan hasn’t got a leg to stand on, in this not-really-an-argument. “Fine,” he mutters. “But just remember who takes him out for walks when you’re…working.”

“Are you jealous?” Hess asks, sounding amused. He doesn’t roll over to look at Dan, but he shifts, fumbling a hand back until he can pat blindly at Dan’s thigh. “You’ve got nothing to be jealous of, sweet thing. He loves you too.”

Dan sighs. Almost in spite of himself he tips forward a little, resting his forehead against the top of Hess’s spine, near the nape of his neck. The tips of his hair tickle a little, but Dan ignores it. Hess runs hot – he always has – and the warmth of him is surprisingly pleasant. He drapes an arm over Hess’s hip and holds on.

Hess stills at Dan’s touch; then the lines of him relax all at once. “I love you as well,” he adds quietly into the darkness.

It doesn’t sound false. Or untrue. It might be a little unkind, given that he knows Dan’s at his most vulnerable right now – here, in the dark, with no pretence between them – but it doesn’t make it any less sincere.

“I know,” Dan says eventually. The back of his hand bumps into soft fur and a warm body. Under his knuckles he feels Angus chuff out a little grumble, but the pup doesn’t really stir.

Hess hums sleepily. He settles down further; lets Dan press close and hold him tighter. There’s something satisfied in him; something content. Like he’s got everything he needs here, in this moment, with nothing and nobody to gainsay it.

And Dan –

Dan’s got them too, hasn’t he? Both of them. An odd pair of creatures held safe in his arms, even at the risk of sharp teeth and bloodletting. It should be an uncomfortable realisation, and it’s not.

Oh hell, he thinks, resigned and a little soft, as he lets Hess wrap long fingers around his forearm, absent and fond.

We’ve got a dog.

[transhawks]

Lmao, it always goes back to those Prohero Arc connections and clarity I swear. And people wonder why I’m so obsessed with that arc for this single reason. I think one of my favorite things is the character development you’ve been going through. Perhaps the real iconic narrative arc all along was Rani turning into a passionate AfoHawks spokesperson. *chefs kiss* the pOETRY 🎶

LISTEN. YOU DONT GET HOW FUCKING WEIRD THIS IS????? 2020-21 I was off roleplaying my dhampir!keigo, infiltrating AFO's coven and stupidly falling in love with his ward sacrifice Fae/Werewolf!Tomura and failing in killing him (Tomura cursed him to hell and back and Jin didn't help with his curse, fucking fae :/), but like WE NOTICED when we roleplayed Keigo FINALLY meeting AFO that like....the whole dynamic changed. There wasn't anything non-platonic (except keigo whining in the local monster support chat that the vampire lord of the area was boring af because real vampires throw massive masquerade balls that turn into orgies) but just....Hawks was at once at extremely high alert but also far more honest than he'd ever been. The pleasant and quirky local surfshop clerk/ditzy halfvamp schtick melted. This was a weapon. And not just a weapon; this was a vampire who could see the world just like All For One could, if he'd just flee the coop his human raisers had stuffed him into. Like the similarities in thinking jumped out. Of course Keigo wasn't exactly like AFO but I still remember that our tomura RPer had Tomura specifically mention (once they got all the files from Hawks's treachery/spy chats) how much Keigo sounds like sensei. It was fun! And it made it stick in my mind that surprisingly, Keigo and AFO could interact interestingly. This was bolstered by that chapter in 2021 where Keigo begins psychoanalyzing him, too. It was so interesting seeing him try to think like him. But you know, it's not like I expected canon to explore this. Even in the beginning of the war, I didn't. Something to note is that for the majority of the fight, All For One's own hubris and bias towards very flashy destructive quirks has blind-sided him to Hawks and his role in this war, by which I mean (and I can back up) is that most of the hero effort has indeed been carried on Keigo's back or orchestrated. It took until AFO got rewound to realize how much Horikoshi was setting them up. Endeavor barely mattered between them. And then...well, they started talking. Focusing on each other more. What am I supposed to do, ignore it????? It got heavier and heavier, the panels mirroring each other, converging at times, etc. Just Horikoshi doing excellently for a pair of people I never imagined would interact. And now we have Keigo laying on the ground, defeated, stripped of all that he believes he is, as All For One asks him if he's tired and then leaves with his wings, saying in the end he couldn't protect anyone. Too fast for his own good. Hubris.

LIKE??? HOW AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THE SPOKESPERSON?????? i am a simple man, I like rich dynamics and cool framing and horikoshi feeds me regularly.

EDIT: was about to publish this but got a similar ask

Oh yes I absolutely loved the quietness of this. First he tells him to get out of his way and then, like, "Haven't you done your best?" It's a solemn moment, surprisingly, and I hope the anime does it justice in a year or two. And the god imagery! Ugh! i have SO MUCH to say on this but you have to wait because im doing a Big Meta again lol.

As for HPSC prez Keigo, part of me thinks that would be a Bad End. Or bittersweet at most. I remember misinterpreting one of the vol extras to mean that the HPSC was essentially grooming him to eventually replace her and there's something very fucked in that thought. I do however think he might do something with kids!

[cryoexorcist]

in liyue, hui stood out like a sore thumb — and not mainly because of his choice of attire. he wanted to go out and search for suitable clothing to blend in a bit more, but realized it would take most of his mora to find a tailor who can either adjust pre-existing articles or create entirely new ones. so instead of stressing over that, he attended to more pressing issues.

like wrapping his arms around chongyun and resting his chin atop on the exorcist’s head — letting out a soft, good morning grumble. the abyssal energy inside made him especially needy for attention — much like an animal, but he managed to keep the more intense traits under control. “i’m going out to purchase some clothes,” he mumbles into chongyun’s hair. “it should not take long.”

chongyun loves seeing hui here. the man certain sticks out, but that's what chongyun likes -- is being able to see him from a distance. he's tall too, which helps for visibilty.

except, right now, he seems almost deflated. when he rests his chin on chongyun, it's not hard to figure out why. it's clear hui is tired. so, chongyun lifts a hand and caresses hui's cheek gently so as to not startle him. "i can come with you," chongyun offers. "i know some decent tailors."

hui probably doesn't even need the help, perfectly capable of going on his own. but chongyun likes spending time with him anyway. "i can also stay here and prepare a meal for you when you return. it's your choice either way."

[libidomechanica]

“You learn it, who were fleeting for”

In the argument all the witch     hazel within the dregs of sea. Strove the long-batter from     which made them harm. Forgot, and tears, the twilight comforts of     truth. One Night Movie Theater, whom my poor, tired,     wanderer stopped. From silvers

o’er young, I’m o’er young man, and count     him droops were erected, to enioyeth, but when staine knots that     the thick assay’d. To read her head. She might chills and perish’d     shape of change. And this but beauty. As if for a moment     fountain-tops with a silence

pursue her Ambrosian pap,     and then delves, but cannot stop thy Falling; in his post, I     may seem lost it speaks nor speakes for this life is mixed good fame     show’d that blow softly round abysm I thrown, yet still round its     mourning down heart lies whose

ridge, that ye are all shower of     thy charge be the topmost tendency to unrespects that     least Here is notice on my clasp, never shone; yet might shone:     the stature on high the salt against thou in steal for decades     she never either

flowers upon my father with     all things proud; at last sorrow is squawking at the night pieces     of unsifted time, and Death must forlorn world far awa.     Not a kiss stings. Runs it not like mine, in so then he     farmer sing then in her

arms till the bodies mark, agrees     as ill, to lack no nature to saluted with blinded     rabbits, cows with all the exhaust pipe too much; I lived, he     muttered by the bloom’d tree— sir Leoline. I will speak the tears     even Despair. Is, but

I can lack? Wherein t’ave half withdraw     one ray from out her throngs and Wesley, and having built     rick. Such impotence come savage—what to me; she said; she     said, I am very spinning against a fool I was     a lament, crying: Daddy?

For her on the assault, see     what are turned to a twilight hour is mixed good pasture-ground;     and let thy heart is she! And nineteen name in years of motion     new, and ripen’d on the loved of the sonne and cast upon     the fire domed black? Comes

a humming. From pointed, saying,     and still a cherry, miserable is proud brow, and by     reflection; or as a snake, kissing breeze. At his Garments? You     learn it, who were fleeting for weary words were seal’d to warmth     or a vast speech arises,

roaring to Heaven her from     the bless you waking! One Night, and I said thou art, that Rich     shouting’s making bed-dent after the colour animal     cracks evilly, a melancholy into a hundred     Aristotles bow; oh

Thou, bethink the moon up without     in thee how the present tale is, where his forehead came to     the heart, as I saw that earth puckered in the rings     unbearably light, and taxes Paradise vanish’d shape, and     upon that all thing hero

is come away; this new Vauban:     but the lady pass my verses tend than tear; and watchest     hour being mark to the world without death. Ho! The little     hours bore the dusky highway near it could I looked like     to duct tape delays and

queens may reason, and mutual     fear the five, that painted Peace pipe on his own wi’ right, which     can have not this nod, as e’er and both in the rivers. Say,     maiden windows in thy foot did little. Wistfully upon     the unregard, tho’

my care, and glad, or how she lie     and you doe comming the name before the cup of wool with     this said, in the sunset, which three poor her dreadful hollow     behind, and new; when I was yours they assume, this life from     the sun; coral is fingers

the core; I can, which now my     virgin modest seed, and these and the Tender to the wall,     when life is your wife she stone bridge going away. This does     not this way! When I got through the earth great at one has been     breathe—beauteous dove, that one.

[chengfagshi]

I swear Genshin has the most obnoxious fans in the fandom. I usually tend to just block any “daily character” accounts because they’re usually run by antis. And guess what? I was correct

there’s a new npc who is regarded as a goth wolf man (his hair is slightly shaped like wolf ears) and he’s coupled with a smol cute nurse in the prison facility they both work at. The nurse belongs to a long life race of short and animal like beings called “Melusine”, though this specific character looks closer to a human than the others

people mostly ship her with the goth wolf because of her pastel like color palette that goes well with the muted grey/black/red colors of the wolf man. But because she’s short, this daily account and many others regard her as a child even though again, she belongs to a race that is much much older than the guy she’s shipped with. She also has a job and worked as a nurse much longer too

There are also 3 other characters that fit the trope, 2 of them have the same petite body size, 1 looks more like a 15-16 yo but shipping all 3 of them (or shipping the last one with a man actually) is considered “pedophilia”

and I’m tired that antis contribute to watering down pedophilia and force it to apply to fictional characters or short people in general

Kind of unrelated but interesting I got this ask about Sigewrio because I just answered an ask where I mentioned them.

But onto the topic, omfg, I know what daily account you're talking about. The person also goes onto say things "People who ship this should be behind bars" for shipping adults??? Or there's a SigeWrio acct I follow who made a post about m/f shipping and how people act like m/f shippers are shipping that purely out of spite for f/f, m/m. And someone was like "You had a good point but you ship an adult and child" and I'm fucking....SIGEWINNE IS NOT A FUCKING MINOR. Like antis love to throw around the harkness test as a gotcha for why 🔞 furry would be okay but 🔞 loli would not. But by their own logic, Sigewinne would pass the harkness test because she is an adult. Like I love SigeWrio because I adore the pastel/goth, bunny/wolf aesthetic. I always have. The size difference is just an added bonus for me. It's also frustrating that my favorite ships from Genshin end up having discourse over them even when they're not problematic at all (like Diluc x Venti and Neuvifuri omfg don't even get me started)

[waynes-multiverse]

Ooooh, Arty! I'm so excited for this series (and your FBI one, which I'm hopping into next) 😍 You know I'm obsessed with those things 😂👏

Let's jump into it! 🍿

You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that you’d cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that you’d lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley.

I can see why she'd need a bodyguard. Girl, you can't be sitting in a bar as a presidential candidate. Please tell me Secret Service has eyes on this "madwoman" 😂

Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected there’d be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.

Yup 💯💯💯 Although, I don't think Shurley's up for the job... 😒

Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they weren’t ruined, she’s just being dramatic).

Bella sounds like me 😂 Are we redheads all the same?

You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.

I love when authors add (funny) information in parentheses or strike words through! It adds so much comedy and is my favorite kind of writing style 🤍

That means you got… 64% of the vote

Whoa! You can almost call that a landslide! 🥳

Suck it, Amara 😝

You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.

Dude, she's winning in, like... life 👀

But there's something missing... Ah yes! Who will be the First Gentleman? *coughs*

And please tell me the girls are moving with her into the White House. I'd die 😂😂

“I’m Becky Rosen, I’ll be your assistant.

Oh dear God, no... 😂 I had a feeling when she snuck up on me in this paragraph lmao

But is she okay? Why do I get the sense her eye bags don't come from being overworked? Is someone threatening her? Trying to gain access to Mme Pres. through her? I'm on alert! 👀

Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didn’t expect a dude in prison to put his file through.

That is a fair assumption 😅 Only one dude would be this crazy to apply to the freaking White House as personal bodyguard to the freaking president 🙈

A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery

Jesus effing Christ...

I wonder what really went on there? Can't imagine Dean, even AU!Dean, to be this damn cold-blooded without a somewhat (we do forgive him a lot) sound reason

Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedom—the smell of asphalt under the Impala’s tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.

Chills! Literal chills! 👏

“Unorthodox candidates,” he muttered, smirking. “Guess I qualify.”

Uhm, sweetie...? You feelin' good? 😂

I love how his whole plan rides on "oh, I can get pardoned if I work for the president" 🤣 Dream big, I guess

Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.

That sounds almost like one Russell Shaw 😏 (Which makes sense, considering they're both the same person – thanks Jackles 😂)

neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.

You did good, boo 😘👏

Feldman stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You realize this is insane, right? You’re in here for life. They’re not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.”

A realist, you might say 😂

His lawyer might eat his own ass after he gets out 🤣🤣

“The fuck is this?” You gestured to the heavy shackles on Dean’s wrists and ankles

I love her! She treats him like a human being already, and not like a murderous animal 🤍

He’s not being a perv.

Mmm, I don't quite believe you, Mr. Winchester 😅

“But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?”

Ah! And suddenly, it all becomes quite clear. Of course he did all this crazy shit for Sammy. And I bet Sammy, the prosecutor, just loves the fact that his brother is a hitman in prison 😂

You’re. Hired. He could die.

Arty, if this is foreshadowing, I will kill you. Hope you have your bodyguard ready 😝

That whole reunion with Sam made me tear up for real 😭 That was so sweet and genuine!

“He’s teething,” Eden said with a weary smile. “So, you know…living the dream.”

Yes. Just been there last week again 😂

Her family also seems so sweet. She needs a good support system with this job, and it seems like she has that 🤍

Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if he’d deliberately left it that way.

I died somewhere while reading this paragraph 🔥🥵🫠

Steph scoffed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. He’s better than that, he puts Adonis to shame— where’s he been hiding?”

I'm with Steph on this one. Ben Affleck? Ew.

And I have a feeling those walls aren't as thick as the girls believe they are 😂

“So he’s a bad boy.” Bella giggled

DECEASED 🤣🤣🤣 Bella should join the PR team!

That whole conversation has me rolling on the floor, girl 😂 There were so many gems here 🤍✨

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Sam said with a grin. “Besides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.”

Joking or not, I can't believe Sam's entertaining this idea and encouraging him to hit on the president (and his only ticket outta prison) 😂

Wonderful first chapter, babe! 👏👏👏 So stoked to see where this goes, to have more wild girl chats, and more romantic as well as sexual tension! 😏😍

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳 1

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, angst, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Power by Little Mix

office fever

God, the wait was killing you.

You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that you’d cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that you’d lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley. Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected there’d be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.

“Come on, babes, cheer up!” Stephanie, one of your two best friends, drawled, checking her manicured nails while absent-mindedly sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea like it was merely water, but that was Steph O’Donnell for you, plain and simple. Eh, she was a bit nails-obsessed, but you loved her anyway for it, she did always look immaculate.

Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they weren’t ruined, she’s just being dramatic). “Maybe you just need to get less alcohol in your system.” She said pointedly, plucking the vodka shot out of your fingers.

“Bels, if anything, she needs more.” Steph pointed out after checking if her hair wasn’t frizzed up in a pocket mirror. “If she wins, it just means she’s capable of partying harder.”

Bella sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a small laugh, tsking internally at the notion. “She needs to remain sober for when she gets the results, and she’s going to win.” Bella turned to you with a sparkling smile and took your hand, squeezing it. “We’re here for you, girl. Sure, it’s totally possible that the Amara Shurley woman could win the election — she’s older — but if the country’s not stupid, then you’ll be the next POTUS.”

“I’m not sure whether to feel better or worse.” You playfully rolled your eyes, but let the vodka shot go and gestured to the bartender with a resigned sigh. Yeah, you could go without alcohol for tonight. “But ok. One mocktail, and surprise me with it. Cheers.” You looked to Bella with raised eyebrows, tipping your head slightly. “So, what if I lose the election?”

Bella tutted, and Steph looked up from her nails in shock— damn, that’s how you knew you were in deep shit. “Baby girl, you better get that thinking out of your head right now.” Steph gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in shock. “You are an icon for a feminist nation— a non-toxic feminist nation. If people don’t vote for you, I’m gonna kill those who didn’t, those who did can live.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Steph, no—”

“Yes—”

A loud squeal from Bella distracted both of you and almost made Steph spill the Cosmo that matched her nails and also made her shoot a you bitch look that she really didn’t mean, but then Bella started flapping her hands and making squealing and unintelligible, Brittany from Alvin and the Chipmunk-esque sounds that made you and Steph share a look. “You ok, Bels?” You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.

“Are you having a stroke?” Steph continued, checking for any signs of maybe a heart attack or an ice cube lodged down her throat so her speech becomes little whistles.

“Do you smell toast?” You waved a hand in front of your nose, but then her phone was shoved in front of your face so the screen and everything went blurry, not to mention the sting of the light on your eyes— shit, that burned until your retinas. Grabbing the phone from her, you held it at a distance and squinted (“grandma”, said Steph) but then saw the headline.

2014 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS, FINAL POLL RESULTS

Then you scrolled down, with bated breath and clutching Bella’s hand like you wanted to rip it off, and you took a shaky look at the numbers.

AMARA SHURLEY — 36%

That means you got… 64% of the vote, now that you did the math. Holy shit. “Holy shit!” You gasped, letting out a Bella-reminiscent squeal just as Steph did, and you were smothered by two heavily-perfumed hugs, the wind knocked out of you, but did that matter? No.

You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.

Holy fuck, holy shit, holy crap. This was the most beautiful day of your life, beside the day you met Bella and Steph, that day was important. “You’re POTUS.” Steph grinned, waving for, like, six whiskeys for all of you to down.

“You’re POTUS, baby girl.” Bella giggled, squeezing your shoulders and then spinning around on her bar stool, pointing obviously to you and yelling “POTUS!”, earning a round of cheers and applause from the patrons that made you bury your face in your hands.

But you did it with a grin. You were the President.

Honestly, being the President was exhilarating, cause that meant you got to make real change, it was incredible. Your new security team had fended off the paparazzi from smothering you Bella and Steph style except more annoying as you were escorted into the White House, a woman only a little younger than you waiting with an eager grin and a clipboard hugged to her chest.

“Welcome to the White House, Madam President.” She grinned, holding out her hand nervously then retracting it— she didn’t know what new bosses wanted, alright? “I’m Becky Rosen, I’ll be your assistant. Anything you need, I’ll handle it. Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, a martini— if you want a martini I’ll have the barman get one ready and waiting for you in the Oval Office…”

During that time she’d been rambling you’d examined Becky, getting a feel for what she was like. Thank God your assistant was a woman also and she seemed like good fun, lively spirit, definitely someone who won’t make your schedule sound boring. But she looked overworked and tired, maybe from the last president— that’d be Raphael Easton, right? Yeah.

“Two things,” you started as you were walking through the halls to the Oval Office, “do you have the files for personal bodyguard applicants that I can cycle through before making official speeches?”

“They’re all on your desk, ma’am.” Becky answered almost immediately— damn, she was rather eager, and happy with her job, clearly, but also had dark circles and eye bags that made something twinge in you. It didn’t sit right.

You nodded, then gave her a warm smile, gently taking the clipboard. “How ‘bout you take the day off, yeah? It’s only my first day, I don’t need anything yet, and I can get the applicants from…” You looked through the labels on the file: FBI, CIA, private agencies, ADX Supermax— ADX Supermax?

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” Becky asked, seeing the way your words trailed off upon seeing the file amid all the other incredibly professional outlets for protection, an applicant from the ADX. Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didn’t expect a dude in prison to put his file through.

Oh. Upon opening it, it was just a letter.

You looked up to Becky, biting your lip in thought, cause if this guy’s in the Supermax, he’s prolific.

“Do I have a direct line to the director of the FBI?”

ADX Florence was a fortress, a high-tech prison designed to keep America’s most dangerous criminals sealed away from the world. It wasn’t a place where hope grew. Dean Winchester, prisoner 11347-7, wasn’t the kind of guy to expect hope anyway. A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery, he had resigned himself to spending the rest of his days in this tomb of concrete and steel.

It wasn’t regret that gnawed at him in the sterile silence of his cell. Regret wasn’t his style. He’d made his choices, taken his hits, and lived by the only code he knew: survival. But that didn’t mean he liked being locked away. Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedom—the smell of asphalt under the Impala’s tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.

Now, his days were measured in three meals delivered through a slot and the endless monotony of isolation. Until that morning in 2008 when the guard, a surly guy Dean called Mustache, slid a newspaper into his cell along with the breakfast tray.

Dean didn’t read newspapers often. What was the point? The world moved on without him. But that day, boredom got the better of him. He skimmed headlines about wars, scandals, and the economy’s nosedive. Nothing he hadn’t expected. Then his eyes landed on something that made him sit up straighter on the cot.

“Wanted: Elite Personal Security for First Female President. Apply Now.”

The ad stood out like a neon sign in a desert. Beneath the bold letters was a glossy image of the President standing in front of the White House, flanked by Secret Service agents. The text outlined the need for a personal bodyguard—someone with impeccable skills, discretion, and a willingness to take a bullet if necessary. Experience required. Unorthodox candidates welcome.

Dean read it twice, then a third time, the words stirring something he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close.

ADX Supermax wasn’t the kind of place where people left easily. But this ad…this ad was a door, cracked open just wide enough for someone like him to slip through.

“Unorthodox candidates,” he muttered, smirking. “Guess I qualify.”

By lunchtime, Dean had a plan. It wasn’t perfect—nothing he did ever was—but it was a shot, and that was more than he usually got in this place.

He spent hours staring at the blank sheet of paper he’d salvaged from a previous legal memo. Writing wasn’t his strong suit. Hell, if he’d been good at words, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the killing business in the first place. But this wasn’t about flowery language. It was about convincing someone that a convicted hitman could be trusted with the life of the most powerful person in the country.

Dean leaned over the small desk bolted to the wall of his cell, chewing the end of his pen as he started to scribble.

To Madam President,

I am writing to express my interest in the position of personal security for the President. I realize my application may raise questions, given my current circumstances, but I ask for your consideration based on my unique qualifications.

Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.

Though I am serving time for my past actions, I believe in redemption. This position represents an opportunity for me to use my skills for a greater purpose. I have spent my years here reflecting on my choices, and I am prepared to dedicate my life to protecting someone who stands for hope and progress in this country.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I am available for an interview at your convenience.

Sincerely, Dean Winchester

He read over the letter a dozen times, making minor adjustments. It was rough, sure, but it was honest. And honesty was something he didn’t traffic in often, neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.

By the time he was done, his hand ached, and the paper was smudged from his grip. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

The next step was trickier.

Dean’s lawyer, a wiry man named Feldman who’d been paid off by some shadowy client years ago to keep an eye on him, didn’t usually show up unless Dean demanded it. This time, Dean played the card of “urgent legal matter.” When Feldman arrived, looking mildly annoyed but curious, Dean slid the letter across the table during their monitored meeting.

“You want me to…submit this?” Feldman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean nodded. “Straight to the President’s office. No detours, no ‘I’ll get to it later.’ This is priority one.”

Feldman stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You realize this is insane, right? You’re in here for life. They’re not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.”

“They might if they’re desperate enough,” Dean countered. “And that ad says they’re looking for someone who can do the job, not someone who looks good on paper. I can do the job.”

Feldman sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “And if I say no?”

Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You won’t. You owe me.”

Feldman muttered something under his breath but pocketed the letter. “You’re lucky I like long shots.”

Weeks passed. Dean didn’t hear anything, and for a while, he wondered if Feldman had tossed the letter in the nearest trash can. But then, one morning, Mustache appeared at his cell with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve got a visitor,” he said gruffly.

Dean frowned. “Who?”

“Didn’t say. Get up.”

Visitors were rare, especially unannounced ones. Dean followed Mustache down the cold, narrow corridors, his curiosity growing. When he reached the visitor room, his breath caught.

The woman sitting on the other side of the plexiglass partition was dressed in a crisp suit, her posture radiating authority. She wasn’t Feldman, and she definitely wasn’t a typical visitor.

Dean picked up the phone on his side of the glass.

“Mr. Winchester,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I’m here on behalf of the President.”

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Guess you got my letter.”

Her expression didn’t change. “We did. It was…unconventional.”

“That’s me in a nutshell.”

She glanced at a folder on the table in front of her. “Your record is extensive. Multiple charges of murder-for-hire, conspiracy, weapons trafficking…” She looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto his. “Why should we trust you?”

Dean leaned forward, his tone serious. “Because I know what I’m doing. You want someone who’ll lay down their life for the President? Someone who’ll see the threats before anyone else does? That’s me. I’ve been on both sides of this game. I know how killers think because I’ve been one. And if you give me this chance, I’ll prove that I’m more than what’s in that file.”

The woman studied him for a long moment before standing. “We’ll be in touch.”

Dean hung up the phone, watching her leave with a mixture of hope and disbelief. For the first time in years, it felt like the world outside ADX Supermax wasn’t as far away as it seemed.

You’d been running interviews for a bodyguard for about a week now, and you’d only started them once Becky had gotten a good rest, as well as the rest of the staff at the White House so they could spend good time with their families. First few weeks of presidency were busy ones, so you wanted your employees to have some time for themselves before anything happened.

Nobody seemed suitable to you, even though you’d been presented with the best FBI, CIA and private outlet’s security detail they had, they’d each and all failed your every attempt to make them seem credible, you didn’t want anyone like that. Tabloids had already gotten to smearing your name regarding this, but you were more concerned with your final applicant.

Dean Winchester.

You’d asked the FBI to send over every file they had on him, and the list was — you hated to say it — extensive. Many assassinations of high and low-level targets, and he was credited with over 100 assassinations in the past two years— you had your doubts about this guy, the director of the FBI had said he was in there for a reason.

You’d find out if he was unhinged, or just a normal man.

Well, Dean had been escorted as covertly as possible with a bunch of military and secret service agents, which didn’t make sense as his hands were shackled to his feet. The only way he’d be getting out of these chains was if he was a magician, and he wasn’t, just incredibly good at marksmanship and fighting, thank John for that.

“Alright, alright.” He scoffed, almost tripping out of the car as he was practically shoved up the steps by the agents by his head. “I’m moving, I’m moving, Jesus fuck, you ladies are uptight.” He got to the door of the White House, and holy shit, he was really here. He got let in, hearing a Secret Service agent blabbing in his ear.

“Any funny business, 353, and we’re sending you straight back. You’re gonna address Madam President with respect, no cheek—” Ugh, the sound of his voice was grating, but all Dean could do was let out a terse nod as he was led to the door of the Oval Office and led inside. He stepped in, glaring at the service agent who had been yapping about decorum. Then, suddenly—

“Oi! Hey, hey!” A woman’s voice snapped, and he looked up from his shackles to see you, and boy, were you young for a president. You had to be his age, right? Yeah, and you were surprisingly gorgeous for a POTUS, but the way you’d stood up with a loud chair screech from your desk, snapped your fingers and pointing at Dean’s shackles with a livid expression, he knew the agents were in deep shit.

“The fuck is this?” You gestured to the heavy shackles on Dean’s wrists and ankles— they were quite heavy and uncomfortable, now that he paid attention to it, but he was more focused on how much of a little Spitfire you were. Young, but you were snapping at these middle-aged men as if they were 5 year old children. “You might as well put a chain around his neck, for God’s sake— whichever of you has the key, take those things off and leave my office, if he kills me, fine, just have Amara take my place, she’ll do a damn good job as well.”

The service agents stood there, stunned, and then a stern look from you — “Damn,” Dean muttered — got the agent next to Dean to shove the key in the lock to his wrists and ankles, letting the chains fall free, and they were promptly carried out. You sighed, returning to your desk, running a hand through your hair.

“I am so sorry about that, Mr Winchester, I’ve just always found those chains really inhumane.” You rushed the sentence, gesturing to your desk in front of you and sipping your coffee to calm down. Honestly, not your best option, it probably made you more jittery.

Dean didn’t argue, he didn’t want to get scolded, just made his way to the desk, grey jumpsuit — he was in protective custody in prison — rustling with every step until he sat down on the irresistibly comfy chair, cause wow, prison chairs were hard and low standard.

His ass felt like it was in heaven right now.

“No problem, ma’am, I see the point. Not exactly the cleanest slate.” He didn’t think it was wise to make a joke of how he’d assassinated people for hire, but it made you laugh, so maybe that was good going. Who knows? “And call me Dean.”

“I see that.” You smiled, then gestured to Dean with a warm smile, not something he was used to unless it was the smiles of his mom that he barely remembered. Otherwise it was either hungry, lustful smiles of desperate women and cunning smiles of ruthless businessmen and mafia bosses. “So, Dean, before we get started, would you like anything? Tea, coffee, water, beer, whiskey— one candidate asked for straight vodka. He’s not getting the job.” Damn. The new POTUS was cool.

“Water would be great.” Dean would have a drop of whiskey, but he wanted to make a good impression and hydrate himself with something other than low-quality prison water. So, when you passed him the water, he downed the tall glass in three gulps, but then paused when he saw you watching.

Then he swallowed. Shit.

But you weren’t judging him, you seemed understanding, that yes, prison water probably tasted like rat piss, so he finished the rest of the glass and wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. Prison must be really rough, treat yourself.” You waved him off, shaking your head, then peered through his file. Rather interesting family background, how did he turn out that way? “Says here that your father’s a Marine Corporal veteran, thanks for his service, and your brother’s a prosecution lawyer that graduated from Stanford Law. Impressive.” You looked up at him, thumb playing with the ring on your middle finger, eyes focused on the paper.

Dean couldn’t help but note that you were beautiful. Not objectively, just factually beautiful. He’s not being a perv.

“My brother’s a nerd.” Dean stated with a smile as you talked about his family, he didn’t blame them, he wasn’t a bookworm, he wasn’t as smart as his little brother in that aspect, Sam was all about studying and being the good kid.

"Yeah, my brother used to say I was a nerd, now look at me." You chuckled, then nodded in acknowledgement. "You, however, you graduated just on the mark, no honours, didn't go to college and transactions show you started as a hitman when you were 20." You paused for a second, cause that was what you couldn’t put your finger on. "But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?"

Dean knew he was gonna be interrogated by the new President, that’s a given, and he made sure to prepare himself for the whole psychological evaluation of himself. His expression remained unreadable, only slightly surprised by how quickly you put together that he’d been paying for his brother’s college.

“He’s family. Sammy’s a good kid, he deserves to get away from this life.” Dean answered, it was a simple answer. It didn’t really dig deep into his past or his true relationships with his family.

Well, all you had to know was that his dad was paranoid after returning from deployment and taught him how to shoot like James fucking Bond and Sammy too, but Sam had left for college while Dean had nothing he could do for himself.

"Mhm." You hummed, looking through the rest of it. "Now my guys are finding that in the years since your brother left college, money you've earned from assassinations ordered by high level clients — that are now behind bars — has been wired to a rehab centre down in Delaware. I looked into it, and I found out your father's staying there. None of that money's going to you." Your voice wasn't judging. You instead sounded understanding.

The only reason why Dean wasn’t surprised or shocked by the fact that you knew this was the fact that you were the President. He should’ve guessed. He smiled slightly as you remained understanding about the whole situation though, most other politicians would’ve seen this as a chance to blackmail and threaten him.

“Yeah, my dad’s got severe PTSD. It’s the only good one nearby.” He explained as he crossed his arms. It would be hard to find a rehab centre that accepted his dad given the whole violent record he had.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathy at that. Dean’s juvenile record wasn’t the cleanest, so no shops would’ve hired him so he could make that money, only black ops would. It was strange, and you’d be under fire by the media if you voiced it, but you saw his struggle. “You did it for your family.” You were surprised at how softly you said that.

“Family don’t end in blood, ma’am.” Dean replied, honestly, and you were hit where it hurt by that statement. You were expecting a cold-hearted killer, not a man trying to do right by his post-traumatic father and little brother. “Not if I’m still breathin’. Sammy’s got a good life, a wife, by what I’ve heard. Don’t wanna burden him with all that shit, a-and I haven’t talked to him in a few years. My boy.” He cleared his throat to not get too emotional.

You had to do that too, just to be clear.

“I’m sorry.” But that wouldn’t just fix everything, so you took a moment to let that hang in order to give him some time. “Only important question I’m gonna ask. Hypothetically, we’re under fire at one of my events. You’ve gotten me to safety, and I give you the order to do the same for civilians. Do you do it?”

Dean took in the question, eyebrow raised slightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he studied you. That was a odd but interesting question. This was a job interview for real, it seems.

But this answer was simple.

“Civilians. I’d get the innocents out first.” He said, there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his voice. Civilians, innocent people will always come first before anything and anyone. He’d made sure when performing hits that no civilians, women, fathers, men, mothers, children— were safely out of the way before taking a shot. If they weren’t, he refused. He wasn’t risking it.

He was expecting you to refuse him on the spot, but instead two words came out that almost made him go “holy shit”.

“You’re hired.”

You’re. Hired. He could die.

“I-I’m sorry, Madam President, I’m what?” He practically gasped, hands clutching the arms of his seat, watching you take out some already prepared parole papers and walking to the door in your heels, handing the file to one of the service agents.

“Hired.” You said simply, a shrug and a smile offered as you walked to the desk. Fucking hell, Dean had never seen a stranger president in his life. “Your parole is being passed effective immediately, and I wanna get you in touch with my stylist and wardrobe guy so we can get you some new and frankly more comfortable clothes. You’ll be staying here, at the White House, you’ll have full access to my staff for anything you might need, but most importantly, you need to call your family.” You tapped your landline that you had prepared on the desk with a small, encouraging smile. “I have Sam’s number and the rehab centre’s number both in your directory file, I’ll give you some time to talk rather than waiting like a creep.”

As you walked out, Dean couldn’t believe his ears. He was now the President’s bodyguard, he got to live in luxury, no doubt there was a large paycheck and he got to call Sammy again. His Sammy, oh, holy shit.

His hand shook as he reached for the landline, opening the file and there it was, Sam’s number, and it’d changed since he got put in prison a good six months ago. His fingers fumbled, clumsily dialling the number and waiting a moment as the dial tone stopped and the ringing shook his eardrum. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, please pick up—

“Hello?” Dean’s heart broke upon hearing Sam’s voice again, and he took a shaky breath. Get a grip, Winchester, it’s only your little brother, the man you raised your while life.

“Bitch.” His voice sounded like he’d smoked cigarettes, and he’d quit that habit after high school, but all he could hear was the dead silence of realisation on the other side.

“Jerk.”

The motorcade pulled up to the white-brick colonial house just as the late afternoon sun began to dip behind the row of oaks lining the driveway. You leaned back in your seat, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. For months now, your life had been a whirlwind of campaign rallies, debates, and sleepless nights in cramped hotels. It all felt surreal. You were the President of the United States. Yet, somehow, coming home to this house—the one you’d grown up in—was what made it all feel real.

Secret Service agents stepped out first, scanning the quiet suburban neighborhood for threats. You glanced out the tinted window, catching a glimpse of the familiar front porch where your father had painted the railing a deep blue years ago. The door creaked open, and a small figure darted out onto the lawn before anyone could stop him.

“Austin!”

The call came from Eden, your sister-in-law, who appeared a moment later, balancing baby Wyatt on her hip. She looked harried but happy, waving at you from the porch. Austin, however, was already halfway to the car, his untied sneakers slapping against the pavement.

You smiled despite yourself. Rolling down the window, you called out, “Hold on, buddy, let them do their job.”

The boy skidded to a stop as one of the agents gently but firmly intercepted him, patting him on the shoulder and guiding him back toward the porch. Austin complied, but his excitement was evident in every bouncing step.

By the time you exited the car, your father, Mark, was standing on the porch steps, arms crossed but with a wide grin splitting his face. “There she is,” he said, his voice booming with pride. “Madame President.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you climbed the steps. “Dad, don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ll start, alright,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “My daughter, the leader of the free world! They’re gonna need to expand that Oval Office just to fit my pride.”

“Mark, give her some room to breathe,” your mother, Odette, chided as she stepped outside. She was smaller than you remembered, her hair streaked with more gray than the last time you’d seen her. But her smile was as warm as ever. She held her arms open, and you leaned into her familiar embrace, the scent of lavender and vanilla washing over you.

“It’s good to see you, Mom,” you murmured.

“We’re so proud of you,” she said softly, pulling back to study your face. “But I bet you’re exhausted.”

You nodded, glancing over her shoulder to see your older brother Ryan descending the stairs, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who decided to come back down to earth,” he teased, reaching out to clap you on the shoulder.

“Someone’s gotta keep you grounded,” you shot back, the familiar rhythm of sibling banter falling into place as though no time had passed.

Eden appeared beside him, Wyatt still on her hip. She offered you a smile, and you leaned in to kiss her cheek. “How’s this little guy doing?” you asked, reaching out to tickle Wyatt’s chin. The baby let out a squeal of laughter, his chubby arms flailing.

“He’s teething,” Eden said with a weary smile. “So, you know…living the dream.”

Austin, who had been hovering impatiently at the edge of the group, finally couldn’t contain himself. “Auntie!” he shouted, throwing his arms around your waist.

“Hey, kiddo,” you said, ruffling his hair. “What’s new?”

“I got an A on my science project!” he said, looking up at you with bright eyes.

“That’s great!” you said. “What was the project?”

“Volcanoes,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Dad helped me with the lava.”

Ryan coughed. “Helped is a strong word. He mostly just told me what to do.”

“That’s because you were doing it wrong!” Austin protested, and the group dissolved into laughter.

Inside, the house was exactly as you remembered it. The worn hardwood floors creaked under your feet, and the faint scent of your mother’s cooking lingered in the air. The walls were covered with family photos—some old, some new—including one of you on election night, surrounded by your team, your face frozen in an expression of shock and joy.

Dinner was already laid out on the long wooden table in the dining room. A roast chicken sat in the center, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and your mother’s famous macaroni casserole. It was a far cry from the catered meals you’d been eating on the campaign trail, and your stomach growled in anticipation.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Odette said, ushering everyone to their seats.

You took your usual spot, sandwiched between Austin and your father, while Ryan carved the chicken. Plates were passed around, and soon the room was filled with the clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation.

Mark raised his glass of water. “A toast,” he said, his voice cutting through the din. “To my daughter. The first woman to sit in the Oval Office. You’ve made us all so proud.”

“Here, here!” Ryan chimed in, lifting his own glass.

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you clinked glasses with everyone around the table. For a moment, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of being surrounded by the people who had always believed in you.

After dinner, you helped your mother clear the table, despite her protests. “You’re the President now,” she said, swatting your hands away from the plates. “You don’t need to be doing dishes.”

“Maybe not,” you said, grinning. “But I don’t think I’ve outgrown being your daughter.”

She relented, shaking her head with a fond smile, and the two of you worked side by side in comfortable silence. When the last dish was put away, you found yourself drawn to the living room, where the rest of the family had gathered.

Ryan was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a photo album with Austin perched beside him. Eden sat in the armchair, rocking Wyatt to sleep, while Mark stood by the fireplace, nursing a cup of coffee.

You sank into the armchair opposite Eden, your eyes drawn to the flickering flames in the hearth. “It feels good to be home,” you said softly.

Mark looked over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you, kid,” he said. “But don’t forget—you’ve got us. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in your chest. “I know,” you said. “And I’m going to need that. All of it.”

Ryan looked up from the photo album, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Think we’ll get to visit the White House? Austin’s dying to see the bowling alley.”

Austin’s head snapped up. “There’s a bowling alley?”

You laughed. “There is. And yeah, you’ll all come visit. But I can’t promise I’ll have much time for bowling.”

“Why not?” Austin asked, his brow furrowing. “You’re the President. Can’t you just…make time?”

The simplicity of his question made you smile. ��It’s a little more complicated than that, buddy,” you said. “But I’ll do my best.”

Later that night, after the house had quieted and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself standing in the backyard. The air was crisp and cool, and the stars above were brighter than you remembered. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the enormity of your new role settle over you like a heavy cloak.

The back door creaked open, and Mark stepped outside, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He joined you on the porch, handing you a steaming mug of tea.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Too much on my mind.”

Mark nodded, staring out at the dark yard. “It’s a big job,” he said. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “You’ve got what it takes,” he said. “And you’ve got us. Don’t forget that.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Dad.”

He smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”

As you followed him inside, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in months. No matter how hard the road ahead might be, you knew you wouldn’t be walking it alone.

The Oval Office was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. Its high, curved ceilings and rich, historic decor exuded authority, yet the warmth of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the tall windows softened the edges, giving the room an almost serene quality.

You sat at the Resolute Desk, a stack of documents waiting for your signature. Each one bore the weight of history. Education reforms. Trade agreements. Environmental policies. Every flick of your pen carried consequences that rippled far beyond the iconic walls of this room.

Across the room, Becky, your ever-efficient assistant, was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, tablet in hand. “After this meeting with the education committee, you’ve got a fifteen-minute break before the press briefing,” she said, scrolling rapidly through the day’s schedule. “Then at three, there’s the Cabinet discussion on infrastructure. And don’t forget the call with the German Chancellor at four.”

“Got it,” you replied, signing your name with a practiced flourish. “Anything else?”

Becky hesitated, glancing at her screen. “Oh, and your new personal bodyguard will be arriving shortly. Dean Winchester.”

You kept your expression neutral, though you’d been briefed extensively on this particular appointment. A former hitman, Dean’s resume wasn’t exactly typical for someone tasked with protecting the President. But his unconventional background—and the skillset that came with it—was exactly why he’d been chosen.

“Right,” you said, setting your pen down. “I’ve read his file. Has he been through security clearance?”

“Thoroughly vetted,” Becky assured you. “And cleared. He should be here any moment.”

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s hope he lives up to the hype.”

Just as Becky opened her mouth to reply, the door opened.

You looked up, and the words you were about to say caught in your throat.

Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if he’d deliberately left it that way.

Despite the formal attire, there was an undeniable ruggedness about him. His short, tousled hair was just slightly too messy to be regulation, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw added an edge that no amount of tailoring could hide. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, swept the room before landing on you.

You found yourself momentarily distracted by the way the suit accentuated his broad chest and tapered waist. It was a rare thing for someone to wear something so formal yet exude the kind of raw, unrefined masculinity that Dean seemed to embody.

“Madame President,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he stopped a respectful distance from your desk.

You forced yourself to refocus, clearing your throat as you rose from your seat. “Mr. Winchester.” You allowed yourself a small smile, noting the way his gaze remained steady but professional. “You clean up well.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Thanks. I aim to please.”

Becky glanced between the two of you before standing. “I’ll step out and make sure everything’s ready for the committee meeting,” she said, gathering her tablet.

“Thanks, Becky,” you said, watching her leave before turning back to Dean.

For a moment, the room felt smaller. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but take him in once more, your gaze lingering on the way his shoulders filled out the suit jacket, the way his long fingers rested casually at his sides, the way they gripped his chair as he sat down. You snapped your attention back to his face before he could notice.

Dean leaned back slightly in the chair, taking in the sight of you as you scanned your schedule on the tablet in front of you. The soft lighting of the Oval Office seemed to highlight the sharp lines of your features, and the way you carried yourself—confident, composed, entirely in command—struck him in a way he hadn’t expected.

He’d done his research, of course. He knew your career milestones, your policies, even a few of your personal quirks. But seeing you in person was different. The photographs didn’t do you justice.

As you spoke, your voice clear and firm, Dean found himself watching the curve of your lips, the subtle tilt of your head when you emphasized a point. You had a presence that filled the room, a quiet strength that made it impossible to look away.

“Your main job,” you were saying, “is to ensure my safety, both here and when I travel. You’ll coordinate with the Secret Service, but your focus will be on close-range protection. You’ll accompany me to all public appearances, meetings, and events.”

Dean nodded, forcing himself to focus on your words rather than the way your blouse fit perfectly beneath your blazer. “Understood. Anything specific I should know about your routine?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “It varies. I keep a tight schedule, but unexpected situations come up all the time. You’ll need to be adaptable.”

“I’m good at that,” Dean said, his tone confident but not cocky.

“Good.” You swiped at the tablet, then set it down on the desk. “I’ve read your file. Your skillset is…impressive.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “That’s one way to put it.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a wry smile. “I’d call it unconventional, but that seems to be exactly what I need.”

Dean’s gaze flicked over you again, this time lingering on the curve of your jawline, the way your fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the desk. He’d worked with plenty of high-profile people before, but you were in a league of your own.

“Anything else I should be aware of?” he asked, his voice low.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. “You’re going to see me at my best and my worst,” you said plainly. “Long hours, high stress, bad days, good days. It comes with the territory.”

Dean nodded. “I’m here to do my job, ma’am. Whatever it takes.”

Something in his tone made you pause, your gaze sharpening as you studied him. “You’ve been in worse situations, haven’t you?”

“Let’s just say I’m no stranger to high stakes,” he replied, his smirk returning.

You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. “Good. I’ll need someone who can keep a cool head under pressure. And someone who doesn’t mind telling me the hard truth when I need to hear it.”

Dean’s smirk widened slightly. “I can handle that.”

The conversation shifted to logistics—your upcoming travel schedule, security protocols, and daily routines. Dean asked a few questions, his tone professional, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was studying you as much as he was listening.

If you noticed the way his eyes dipped to your collarbone when you leaned forward to make a point, or how his gaze lingered on the curve of your wrist as you gestured, you didn’t let on. You were focused, deliberate, every bit the commander-in-chief he’d expected.

When the meeting wrapped up, you stood and extended a hand again. “Welcome aboard, Dean. I look forward to working with you.”

Dean rose, his hand engulfing yours once more. “The pleasure’s mine, ma’am.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, “And Dean?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“You really do look good in that suit.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone again, you returned to your desk, your mind already shifting to the next task. But for a moment, you allowed yourself a small smile.

It was going to be an interesting partnership.

“Ok, excuse me?” Bella had practically squealed when the door to your bedroom behind you, her and Steph had been shut by Dean, who was now waiting outside to give you some privacy, and thank God those walls were thick enough to hide this conversation. “You didn’t tell us your bodyguard was a Ben Affleck and Brad Pitt combo.”

Steph scoffed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. He’s better than that, he puts Adonis to shame— where’s he been hiding?” They both turned to you expectantly, clearly not aware that your Adonis-transcendent bodyguard was fresh out of the United States Penitentiary, Administrative Maximum Facility. Oh, that’s gonna be a hard pill to swallow, right?

“Prison.” You swallowed, clearing your throat awkwardly upon saying it, cause you weren’t often the bringer of news that a guy like Dean used to be a prolific criminal who kills for money. “ADX Florence. An ex-hitman, to be clear, with over 100 kills in the past two years.”

“So he’s a bad boy.” Bella giggled, clearly not phased, which kind of concerned you with which brain they both were thinking from, and hopefully not the downstairs one. “Even better, oh my god, I was getting worried he’s a goodie.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Right? Like, you can’t just drop ‘ex-hitman with over 100 kills’ and not expect us to have questions. Or fantasies.”

“Steph!” you choked, glancing toward the door as if Dean could hear through the thick walls.

“What? I’m just saying!” She crossed her arms, leaning back against the bedpost. “Honestly, though? He’s got that whole ‘dark past but reformed bad boy’ thing going for him. You’re living every romance novel heroine’s dream.”

Bella, not to be outdone, clutched at her chest dramatically. “Forget romance novels—I’d climb him like a tree. That man looks like he could bench press me and not even break a sweat.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we not?”

“We absolutely can,” Bella countered, her voice rising with glee. “Seriously, you’ve got the hottest bodyguard in the country, and you didn’t think we needed to know this? Girl, where’s your sense of sisterhood?”

Steph was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re withholding important information. Like, what’s he like in person? Is he all business, or does he have that smoldering, ‘I could kill you, but I won’t’ energy?”

Your cheeks burned, both from their shameless gushing and the mental image Steph’s words conjured. “He’s…fine. Professional.”

“‘Professional,’ she says,” Bella snorted. “Professional at looking fine as hell, maybe.” She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Come on. What’s he like? Does he flirt? Does he give you those ‘I’m secretly in love with you’ stares when you’re not looking?”

You glared at her. “No. Absolutely not. He’s just doing his job.”

“Sure he is,” Steph said with a smirk, clearly not buying it. “But don’t think we didn’t notice the way he looked at you when he shut the door earlier.”

You blinked. “What? He didn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” Bella interrupted, waving her hand dramatically. “He totally did. That man looked at you like you were the last piece of chocolate cake at a birthday party. And don’t even get me started on how he stood. You know, all broody and protective, like some kind of…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Alpha wolf guarding his mate,” Steph supplied helpfully.

“Exactly!” Bella snapped her fingers. “Thank you, Steph. That’s exactly the vibe.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. “You two need help.”

“What we need,” Steph said, grinning wickedly, “is for you to admit that you’ve at least thought about it. Because if you haven’t, you’re lying.”

“I haven’t!” you protested, a little too quickly.

Bella’s eyes lit up like she’d just won the lottery. “Oh my God, you totally have! Look at you—your ears are turning red.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, glaring at the floor.

But they weren’t about to let you off the hook.

“Okay, okay,” Steph said, holding up a hand as if to calm the chaos. “Let’s be serious for a second. He’s obviously gorgeous, and clearly there’s some…tension. But what’s the story? Like, how did you even end up with him as your bodyguard? I feel like there’s a Netflix series waiting to happen here.”

You hesitated, weighing how much to tell them. “It’s…complicated. He was recommended through some very high-level channels. Apparently, he’s the best at what he does.”

“And what he does is kill people,” Bella said, her voice dripping with mock solemnity.

You shot her a look. “Not anymore. He’s reformed. He went through a rigorous vetting process before he was even considered for the position.”

Steph tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “So, he’s done bad things, but now he’s protecting the President of the United States. That’s a redemption arc if I’ve ever heard one.”

Bella sighed wistfully. “And he’s doing it all while looking like a Calvin Klein model who got lost on his way to the shoot.”

“Can we not turn this into a thirst-fest?” you pleaded, though you knew it was a losing battle.

Bella leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, sweetie. It’s already a thirst-fest. You’re just in denial.”

The conversation spiraled from there, with Bella and Steph taking turns crafting increasingly absurd fantasies about Dean’s hypothetical love life.

“He probably has a tragic backstory,” Bella said dreamily, lying back on the bed. “Like, maybe he lost the love of his life in some tragic accident, and now he’s sworn to protect others to atone for his past.”

“Or,” Steph countered, “he’s secretly a billionaire who does this for the adrenaline rush. Like, by day he’s your bodyguard, but by night he’s funding orphanages and saving puppies.”

Bella clapped her hands. “Yes! And in his free time, he restores classic cars and writes poetry.”

You stared at them, equal parts amused and horrified. “You two have officially lost it.”

“Or,” Steph said, ignoring you entirely, “he’s secretly in love with you, and this whole bodyguard thing is just an excuse to be close to you.”

Bella gasped, sitting up suddenly. “Steph, that’s it! That’s the one!”

You buried your face in your hands. “I regret ever letting you meet him.”

“Don’t be like that,” Bella said, patting your shoulder. “We’re just saying—you’re sitting on a goldmine of romantic potential here. If you don’t at least consider it, we will.”

“Noted,” you said dryly, standing up and heading for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Unlike you two.”

Bella and Steph exchanged knowing looks as you opened the door to find Dean standing just outside, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

He straightened slightly when you stepped into the hallway, his eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze as you brushed past him.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Steph and Bella might have been onto something.

The drive to Sam’s place was smooth, the kind of easy journey Dean Winchester hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe ever. The hum of the Impala’s engine, a comforting growl beneath him, was as close to peace as Dean could imagine. His day off had finally rolled around, and he hadn’t hesitated to decide how he’d spend it.

Sam had settled in a quiet neighborhood outside Washington, D.C., where tree-lined streets and neat, white-picket fences painted a picture of suburban serenity. It was a far cry from the lives they’d led growing up, but Dean couldn’t deny it suited his little brother.

Pulling up to the house, Dean killed the engine and climbed out, adjusting his leather jacket as he took in the sight. The two-story home was modest but inviting, with a tidy lawn and a swing set in the backyard visible through the side gate. He could hear faint laughter—probably from Dean Jr., Sam and Jess’s kid, who, much to Dean’s delight, was his namesake.

Dean’s boots crunched against the gravel path as he approached the front door. Before he could knock, it swung open, and Sam stood there, looking every bit the family man.

“Dean,” Sam greeted, his face lighting up in a grin. “Right on time.”

“Of course,” Dean said, stepping inside. “I’m punctual now. Didn’t you hear? I’ve got a government job.”

Sam chuckled, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he shut the door behind him. “I’m still getting used to the idea.”

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in. Pictures adorned the walls—Jess and Sam on their wedding day, little Dean Jr. blowing out candles on a birthday cake, snapshots of family trips to the beach. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and Dean’s stomach growled in response.

“Jess is cooking?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She insists,” Sam replied with a shrug. “Says you need a proper meal after all that ‘White House food.’”

Dean smirked. “Tell her I’m not gonna argue with that.”

Jess appeared moments later, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be, her blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her smile bright enough to light up the room.

“Dean!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Too long,” Dean agreed, glancing over her shoulder. “Where’s the rugrat?”

As if on cue, the sound of small feet thudding down the stairs filled the house. Dean Jr. appeared, his face lighting up when he saw his uncle. The kid was a spitting image of Sam, with floppy brown hair and wide hazel eyes, but he had Dean’s mischievous grin.

“Uncle Dean!”

“Dean-o!” Dean crouched, catching the boy as he barreled into him. “What’s up, kiddo? You keeping your old man in line?”

Dean Jr. nodded enthusiastically. “Dad says you work for the President now. Is that true?”

Dean ruffled the boy’s hair. “Sure is. Cool, huh?”

“Super cool,” Dean Jr. said, his eyes wide with awe.

“Alright, enough hero worship,” Sam teased, though his smile betrayed how much he enjoyed seeing his son and brother bond. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

The meal was hearty—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables—and filled with easy conversation. Dean filled them in on the basics of his new job, skirting around the grittier details of his past. Sam and Jess shared stories about their life, from Jess’s latest work project to Dean Jr.’s adventures in Little League.

It was only after the dishes were cleared and Jess had taken Dean Jr. upstairs to bed that the conversation turned serious.

The brothers sat in the living room, each nursing a beer. The light from the fireplace cast a warm glow, and the house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards above.

“So,” Sam began, leaning back on the couch, “you gonna tell me how this happened?”

Dean took a long swig of his beer, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. “What, me working for the President? Thought you already knew.”

“I know the headlines,” Sam said, his brow furrowing. “But what I don’t know is how you went from ADX Florence to the White House.”

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Figured you’d ask eventually.”

“Of course I’d ask.” Sam’s voice was gentle but firm. “You were in prison, Dean. The kind of prison people don’t just walk out of.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It started with a newspaper.”

Sam blinked. “A newspaper?”

Dean nodded. “I was in my cell, flipping through this paper someone left behind. Saw an ad for a private security position with the President. They were looking for someone who could think outside the box, someone with…unconventional skills.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “And you thought, ‘Hey, that sounds like me’?”

“Something like that.” Dean’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Figured I didn’t have much to lose, so I wrote up a resume. Handed it off to my lawyer, told him to file it.”

Sam stared at him, his disbelief evident. “And they just…hired you?”

“No,” Dean said with a chuckle. “They didn’t even call me at first. Took weeks before I heard anything. When they finally did, they put me through the wringer—interviews, background checks, psych evaluations. The works.”

“And they still hired you?” Sam asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“Guess they figured my track record spoke for itself,” Dean said, his tone turning more serious. “I’ve done things, Sam. Bad things. But I’ve also done what needed to be done when no one else could. They saw that.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, processing his brother’s words. “And now you’re protecting the most powerful person in the world.”

Dean nodded. “Guess you could say I’m making up for lost time.”

Sam studied his brother, his expression thoughtful. “You know, Jess and I were talking about you the other night. About how far you’ve come. We’re proud of you, Dean.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, not used to hearing such straightforward praise. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m serious. You’ve been through hell and back, and somehow you’re still standing.”

Dean took another sip of his beer, his gaze distant. “Yeah, well. Standing’s about all I’m good at.”

“That’s not true,” Sam said firmly. “You’ve got a purpose now. A second chance. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Dean glanced at his brother, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam returned the smile, then leaned back with a sigh. “So, what’s she like? The President.”

Dean hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “She’s…different.”

“Different how?”

“She’s smart. Sharp as hell. Tough, but not in a fake way. And she actually listens, which is more than I can say for most people in her position.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you respect her.”

“I do,” Dean admitted.

“And for your type…” Sam smirked, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “She’s pretty hot.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “Sam!”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying. You’ve got a thing for strong women, and she sounds like she fits the bill.”

Dean shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Sam said with a grin. “Besides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him at his brother’s words.

The rest of the evening passed in easy conversation, the kind that only happened between brothers who’d been through it all together. When Dean finally stood to leave, Sam walked him to the door, clapping him on the shoulder as he stepped outside.

“Take care of yourself, Dean,” Sam said, his voice quiet but steady.

“You too, Sammy,” Dean replied, his gaze lingering on his brother’s home—the warmth, the love, the life Sam had built.

As Dean climbed into the Impala and drove away, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in this world after all.

NEXT UP:

“Dean,” you said, a touch of surprise in your voice. “I thought you were on your break.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his gaze locked with yours, and the air seemed to thicken. There was something different about him—an intensity in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken.

Without a word, he reached up and tugged at his tie, loosening it further before slipping it over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs.

Your eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t answer. He shrugged out of his suit jacket next, draping it over the back of a chair with deliberate ease. His movements were slow, calculated, and impossibly confident.

“Dean?” you repeated, your voice catching slightly.

His shirt followed. Button by button, he undid it with maddening patience, his green eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched as he peeled it off, revealing the broad, chiseled planes of his chest and the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin—a testament to a dangerous past.

By the time his hands went to his belt, your pulse was racing.

“What are you—” you began, but the words died in your throat as he stepped forward.

In one smooth motion, Dean swept the documents off your desk, scattering them across the floor. He leaned down, his hands bracketing you on either side as he effortlessly lifted you onto the polished wood surface.

TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak @bitchykittenconnoisseur @underground-secret @heartiella

@bollzinurmouth

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝