#and I'm encouraging him because it's what he wants to do

[ms-demeanor]

Hey friend! So while I'm incredibly skeptical, I'm not strictly against alternative medicine, like you are. I saw you mention reiki, and thought you might geek out on this article like I did:

https://web.archive.org/web/20200308195914/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/04/reiki-cant-possibly-work-so-why-does-it/606808/

It's called "Reiki Can't Possibly Work. So Why Does It?" and I highly encourage reading the whole thing. It first of all thoroughly debunks a lot of the claims reiki practitioners make but it also details all of the studies that have proven its effectiveness and provides what I find a pretty compelling explanation: that much of modern western medicine is stressful and traumatizing. Of course laying in a quiet room with the lights dimmed while a kind person sits with you and wishes for you to be well is effective. It reduces stress and all of the negative biological processes it triggers, which promotes healing.

The article mentions that for years we didn't understand the mechanism by which acetaminophen worked - we just knew it did. I knew a man who was really into "chakra therapy" in the 90s where he had a set of colored sunglasses that, supposedly, would rebalance one's out-of-whack chakras through light therapy. He found that attending to his throat chakra, yellow, helped him sleep better. Years later, formal studies found that yellow lenses filter blue light and can help regulate circadian rhythms.

When I was really little, my uncle sold magnet therapy products (which claimed to promote circulation?? I think??). I had a huge meltdown at a family reunion and no one could get me to calm down. My uncle put a blanket full of magnets on top of me, and I immediately relaxed. Imagine my surprise hearing that story for the first time as an adult who now uses a weighted blanket for stress.

I agree that people need to be really careful about these practices, about getting scammed, and especially about herbal supplements that can have dangerous interactions. I also think there's an extent to which you can analyze the risks and benefits and say, "Okay, I have no idea why this works but it does and there's no major downsides."

Hey so I get a bit heated in this response but I want you to know that I approached this ask in good faith because I know you and I know that we have a lot of the same values and interests and this touched a nerve that was not at all your fault and once I get past the direct response to the article I think I come off a little less. Um. Like the aggression there is not directed at you, it's directed at the article and at one person mentioned in the article specifically who is part of why my reaction to the article is so not good. But I promise after the last bullet point I come off as less reactive, I think. (I'm also publishing this publicly because I think it may be helpful for people to see how CAM stuff often gets away with a veneer of skepticism-that-isn't-actually-skepticism - the article claims to be skeptical but then makes a ton of assumptions and cites some truly mind-bogglingly bad sources that a lot of people won't recognize as bad if they don't have a hair trigger trained by far too much time on the bad CAM parts of the internet).

I've actually read that article a few time times, and would like to do a quick rundown on why I find it unconvincing:

She doesn't cite any decent studies on reiki; one that she does cite is just a self-reported questionnaire response from 23 people in 2002.

While we don't know the exact mechanism of action for acetaminophen, we do know that it does work - it measurably reduces fever and in double blinded RCTs produces reproduceable results in reducing certain kinds of pain. The Science Based Medicine authors cited in the article who called for an end to studies on reiki did so both because there is no plausible mechanism of action for reiki (specifically as energy work, not as 'being in a room with a patient person who listens to you') and because there is no good evidence that it works. (And they wrote a follow-up to the Atlantic article; I like SBM but it's quite sneery, as are most of their write-ups of reiki). When Kisner asks "why should this be different?" when comparing reiki and acetaminophen, the answer is: because there is not only no plausible way that reiki *could* work, there is not any good evidence we have that it works better than placebo.

"Various non-Western practices have become popular complements to conventional medicine in the past few decades, chief among them yoga, meditation, and acupuncture, all of which have been the subject of rigorous scientific studies that have established and explained their effectiveness." This one sentence needs probably twenty or so links in response, suffice it to say that western medicine has emphatically not established and explained the effectiveness of AT LEAST acupuncture and the casually credulous way Kisner accepts that acupuncture is effective (effective FOR WHAT?) throws some serious doubt on her ability to assess these kinds of things.

The title of the article is "Reiki can't possibly work, so why does it?" and that's probably the Atlantic's fault more than Jordan Kisner's fault, but she doesn't ever demonstrate that it works. She says she got a buzzy feeling after her training, she says that patients at the VA were asking for reiki as treatment for pain and sleep disorders, she says that people remembered "healing touches" from parents and loved ones and that the same mechanism might be what makes reiki 'work.' She says that reiki "has been shown by various studies that pass evidentiary muster to help patients in a variety of ways when used as a complementary practice" and the two studies that she includes that weren't just a questionnaire were 1) a non-blinded study of heart rate variability post heart attack where the reiki arm involved continuous interaction with a trained nurse and the other two arms involved resting quietly or classical music (so relaxation as a result of additional focused attention by attentive medical professionals could account for this? Why was the control for this study not having a med student sit and hold the patient's hand?) and 2) a study of patients who sought out reiki who were surveyed after treatment and noted improvement on one of twenty mental or physical markers (this study is like, GOLD for an example of a bad study; no control, self-selected participants who believe in the efficacy of the intervention, exceptionally broad criteria for a positive result - I find it really really really challenging to grant any credence to someone who confidently cited this as an example of reiki "working")

Near the end of the article she says "At the same time, this recalled the most cutting-edge, Harvard-stamped science I’d read in my research: Ted Kaptchuk’s finding that the placebo effect is a real, measurable, biological healing response to “an act of caring.” - if she read any of Ted Kaptchuk's research she didn't link to it; what she did link to was a 2018 New York Times profile of him and Kathryn Hall, researchers at Harvard's Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter program. Being any flavor of journalist and citing Ted Kaptchuk as your source for cutting-edge, institutionally-backed science is disqualifying.

I now need to do some yelling about Ted Kaptchuk.

For clarity: I have as much medical training as Kathryn Hall and Ted Kaptchuk, which is to say: None.

Hall is a microbiologist with a PhD in Public Health, so she at least a background in science. Kaptchuk is an acupuncturist with a BA in East Asian studies and a doctorate in Chinese medicine - notably NOT a medical degree; he was forced to stop calling himself a doctor and had papers retracted after enough people questioned whether the school he claimed he attended even existed and the documents he presented to claim that he was an "OMD" were conclusively translated and did not have any indication that the granted a medical degree of any kind - Science Based Medicine was involved in investigating this because they've been comprehensively anti-quack forever and Ted Kaptchuk has been a quack forever (after recieving confirmation from the government of Macau that Kaptchuk's alma mater was not a medical degree granting institution SBM STILL gave him the benefit of the doubt and had people translate his documentation for final confirmation).

He is also an author on of one of my most beloathed ever studies, which showed that sham acupuncture, placebo, and albuterol all produced the same effect on patient-reported well-being, coming to the conclusion that patient reports can be unreliable and that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma." That fucking line, that stupid goddamned line, gets cited in every piece of woo bullshit about how acupuncture or chiropractic or some scam-ass diet all work, I've run into this study while looking through at least twenty bibliographies and it is one of the biggest, reddest flags that whoever is writing the paper you're reading is full up on some bullshit. Because, see, the paper found that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma" in terms of *patient-reported* markers, but the fucking study found that only albuterol produced an actual effect in lung function. Here's the sentence BEFORE the one that gets cited all the time: "Although albuterol, but not the two placebo interventions, improved FEV1 [forced expiratory volume in one second - the measure for lung function used in the study and used to diagnose asthma] in these patients with asthma, albuterol provided no incremental benefit with respect to the self-reported outcomes." It doesn't matter if the patient *feels* better if they can't actually breathe! It doesn't fucking matter - feeling better but still having poor breathing leaves you more vulnerable to dying of a fucking asthma attack! I hate this goddamned study so fucking much and it's used all the time to claim that placebo can be just as effective as medicine for making people FEEL better but, like, they're still sick even if they feel better! I HAVE HAD PEOPLE CITE THIS STUPID FUCKING STUDY TO ME AS EVIDENCE THAT I DON'T CARE ENOUGH ABOUT TREATING MY FUCKING ASTHMA BECAUSE I DON'T GET ACUPUNCTURE TO TREAT MY FUCKING ASTHMA. If sham acupuncture makes you feel better when you've got the flu but doesn't lower your fever or make you less contagious, you shouldn't act like you don't have a fever or aren't contagious this study makes me INSANE.

Okay done yelling.

I think this look at placebo in the midst of her article about reiki is really interesting because it's very common for CAM practitioners to claim that it's as effective as placebo - which just means that it's not effective. This is a great explanation from The Skeptic on why placebo isn't and can't be what Kaptchuk, Hall, and the like claim. It's also interesting to me that Kisner didn't choose to link to a 2011 New Yorker profile of Kaptchuk that is somewhat less rosy about his placebo studies and includes this absolutely crushing statement: "the placebo effect doesn’t appear to work with Alzheimer’s patients. Trivers suggests that this is because most people who have Alzheimer’s disease are unable to anticipate the future and are therefore unable to prepare for it."

But to the actual point of the ask: I honestly think it's fascinating how much CAM success probably rides on "well did you listen to the patient and pay attention to what was wrong with them and sympathize with them and help them lay out plan that made them feel like they had some agency in this exceptionally frustrating situation (chronic illness, newly diagnosed issue, totally undiagnosed issue) that they're dealing with?"

I know part of why people with chronic illnesses turn to CAM is because they're ignored and dismissed by allopathic practitioners who are largely looking for horses, not zebras - this is one of the reasons that I'm really big on reminding people that (at least in the US) DOs are fully licensed physicians who use a holistic and patient-centered approach so if you are someone with a chronic illness who has had trouble getting diagnosed or had trouble getting doctors to believe you, swapping your MD for a DO as a primary care physician might be really, really helpful to you.

But the flip side of that is that is that I worry deeply about the question of where harm starts; the example with your uncle is really great because you do have a solid instance of something working but for totally the wrong reason (pressure being the mechanism that actually helped, versus magnets being the reason given by the person who did the treatment). Some of this stuff has very little likelihood of causing direct harm, but has the distinct possibility of having indirect harms, which people in the anti-CAM space generally divide into two categories, treatment delay and unnecessary costs (opportunity costs, monetary costs, wasted effort, etc.)

I'm going to step outside of your specific example and look at magnet therapy generally, which really is a spectacular thing to focus on because it honestly doesn't have any direct harms; nobody is allergic to magnets, the kinds of magnets used aren't strong enough to interfere with medical devices, it's even safer than the whole "well herbalism is sometimes just a cup of tea" thing because there are "safe" teas that can do real harm to large populations! But simply being around magnets is not going to hurt anyone (unless they're swallowed; nobody swallow magnets please).

One of the things that I think goes under-discussed when talking about placebo and CAM is that the people trying the alternative solutions desperately WANT the alternative medicine to work (I suspect that this is why the self-selected study of reiki patients has such a significant finding). They are pulling for it; they may be looking at it as a last resort, or they may be hoping that it will work to avoid a treatment that is more frightening, expensive, or inaccessible. I think this actually contributes a lot to the delay of care that we see with CAM.

The absolute worst case harm I can imagine from magnetic therapy is delaying treatment. Let's suppose we've got a diabetic patient with gradually increasing peripheral neuropathy; they have reacted poorly to gabapentin in the past and are looking for something more natural, and they hear from their chiropractor that magnet therapy can be used to treat neuropathy. They buy some compression socks with "magnetic and earthing properties" and sleep in the socks. Whether through the compression controlling some edema or through the simple desire for the socks to work, they feel some relief from the nerve pain they were experiencing and decide that this is a success. The socks work! They continue wearing the socks with occasional pain, but less than before. However, because they are focused on the lack of pain, they don't notice that it's accompanied by increasing numbness. The numbness significantly increases their risk of injury to their feet, which significantly increases their risk of amputation.

It probably sounds like catastrophizing to say "using magnets could lead to amputation" but honestly I don't think it's that far out of the realm of possibility (every time I post on this topic I get flooded with the saddest stories in the world about people whose loved ones died because of delayed treatment for cancer or heart disease).

The second category of harm is cost, which is honestly pretty minimal with magnet therapy, as long as you aren't spending $1049 on a magnetic mat

or paying a chiropractor to give you magnetic treatments. For some other medically harmless treatments like reiki, cost is the thing that I worry about - while I was looking up information related to the article I found that people are charging anywhere from $60 to $225 a session, and selling multi-session packages for thousands of dollars - and if someone thinks that something works, even if it only works by being in a soothing space where someone cares about you - they'll pay for it.

I'm aware that all of this is also extra complicated because of the cost and lack of access to allopathic medicine - a chiropractor broke my spine because I could pay her $60 per appointment but I couldn't pay $125 to see an MD when I didn't have insurance. People who are sick are going to look for treatment; people who have been denied treatment or dismissed by doctors are going to look for alternative treatments.

But man, I really wish I'd spent that sixty bucks on half of a doctor's appointment because the chiropractor didn't know about the benign tumor that I had that weakened the structure of that particular bone when she did her adjustment; it also didn't make the pain go away, it made a different pain start and get worse because it turns out I was having debilitating muscle spasms that then had a bone injury added in on top.

(Chiropractic, for the record, goes with chelation therapy and many many many many cases of herbalism where it's NOT just cost or delay; people claim these treatments are harmless and they are not. They can do tremendous harm).

But yeah I'm not going to deny at all that all of this would be a hell of a lot better if people (especially marginalized people) didn't have to jump through hoops to prove to a doctor that something is wrong with them, and didn't have to do so in an appointment that attempts to cram whole person care down into fifteen minutes, and didn't have the possibility of bankrupting you. Interacting with allopathic medicine is a nightmare and I totally understand why people want to look outside of it for treatment.

I've just heard too many horror stories and seen too much predatory CAM to cut much of it any slack.

At the end of the SBM response to the Atlantic article, the author (I can't remember if it's Gorski or Novella) makes the point that reiki is a spiritual practice, and that we've known for a long time that spiritual practices can improve a person's well-being in a number of ways; they can reduce anxiety, they can provide community, they can give people a space to feel and express emotions that they certainly aren't going to be able to process in a doctor's office. Spiritual practices can be wonderful, and we know there are a lot of people who they can help. But they aren't medicine, and attempting to replace medicine with them (which I don't think that most reiki practitioners are trying to do, to be fair, but which Ted Kaptchuk DEFINITELY is in trying to 'harness the power of placebo') is a disservice to people who need an inhaler instead of acupuncture.

Also, and I know this was not your point but I have to bring it up because people ask about it whenever discussions of placebo come up:

The placebo effect is not treatment. The placebo effect, whether achieved through deception or when someone says loud and clear "this is a sugar pill" does not improve an illness, but it may improve how a patient *feels* about an illness. In some cases, this may as well be the same thing - if you're dealing with muscle pain because you're stressed and no matter what you do it doesn't go away because your shoulders are always up around your ears and you're grinding your teeth and you're sleeping poorly, then literally just talking to someone who is in an office and says "this is a sugar pill, go ahead and take it" may make your muscle pain feel better, but it isn't going to reduce your stress and it isn't going to last, and if your muscle pain is because you're feeling angina as a result of a partially blocked artery then it SURE AS FUCK is not going to make you better and may mask symptoms that were a warning sign of a much more serious problem. People who are sick deserve actual treatment, and placebo is not treatment, which is part of why Ted Kaptchuk makes me want to tear my hair out.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Part 2: It Is A Big Deal

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

POV: Reader POV

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

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

Word Count: 7.4K

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

Listen While You Read: Jealous Again By The Black Crowes

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

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

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

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

He’s more wound up than a tinker toy.

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

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

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

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

Honestly, what's new?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that so hard to ask?

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

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

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

Healthy right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was only so much that you could take.

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

"Calm down kid-" Ben sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least Sam is being normal about this whole thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" You demand.

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

"No, he's not!"

"Yes, he is!"

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

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

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

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

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

What did he just say?

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

Sure there was the night you met…

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

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

Or so you thought.

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

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

"Stop calling me that!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because that'll end well…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just checking."

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

"Shut up." Dean sighs.

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

Dean snorts. "Now who's craz-"

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

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

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

This is so fucking weird.

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

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

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

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

What. The. Fuck.

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

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

"I thought he was dead."

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

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

"Maybe your new boyfriend has a fetish."

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

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

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

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

Well… today officially sucks.

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

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

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

"You're engaged?" You shout.

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck no."

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

"I am not-"

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

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

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

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

“Um-“

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

Wow she put a lot of work into that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Killing me?”

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

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

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

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

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

"You guys okay?" He calls.

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

He's kidding right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was odd.

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

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

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

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

What is happening?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz @impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah

@lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed @justwhisperingfantasies

@lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@bitchykittenconnoisseur

[rottenpumpkin13]

the higher-ups at shinra decided the company needed some comraderie, so had the bright idea to put on ✨️the great shinra bake-off✨️ where the winner gets an all expenses paid trip to costa del sol, everyone in the company is encouraged to enter.. what chaos ensues??

*Angeal is hunched over his workstation, sifting flour and watching Zack like a hawk*

Angeal: Zack, you can't just throw the eggs into the bowl like that. You have to crack them cleanly.

Zack: You're making me nervous! What if I want my cake to have texture?

Angeal: Save your creative expression for when you're decorating. Just focus on getting the basics right.

Zack: Oh, decorating will be easy! I got this awesome fondant that—ackhahkskhch

*Angeal is strangling him*

Angeal: You are a disgrace to the art of baking and the devil will visit you in your sleep tonight.

*Behind them, Genesis is piping an elaborate pattern of roses onto his three-tier masterpiece*

Genesis: Ah, perfection. My artistry knows no bounds. When the judges see this, they'll weep at its beauty. Loveless, Act V - Even if the morrow is barren of promises—

*A cupcake flies in out of nowhere and smacks Genesis' cake, ruining the icing*

Genesis: …

*Reno walks up*

Reno: Ah sorry, red. I was testing out my cupcake canon. Pretty sweet, huh? PUT THE KNIFE DOWN!

*Genesis proceeds to seek revenge by pursuing Reno with a butcher knife. Meanwhile, Sephiroth watches on as he whisks his batter*

Reeve: Hello, Sephiroth!

Sephiroth: Director Tuesti. I didn't realize you were participating.

Reeve: Oh, no, I'm not baking. I'm just here to observe and support.

*Cait Sith waddles by, carrying a tray of fern cakes*

Cait Sith: The higher Shinra climbs, the harder the fall! Mark my words, the President's gonna find himself at the sharp end o' justice soon enough, and it could be Masamune!

*Cait Sith walks away*

Sephiroth: ….

Reeve: :)

Sephiroth: What was that?

Reeve: What was what?

Sephiroth: That cat just issued me a rallying cry to assassinate the President.

Reeve: Oh, Sephiroth. You're working so hard on your baking that you're starting to see and hear things.

*Cait Sith walks by again*

Cait Sith: The President always takes the express elevator when he's had one too many whiskies. Disable the brakes an' let gravity do the dirty work!

*He walks away again*

Sephiroth: ….

Reeve: :)

Sephiroth: Why are you wearing wizard robes?

Reeve: Because the revolution is upon us.

*Meanwhile, Rufus is overseeing the whole event like an emperor, leaning back in his chair, sipping champagne*

Rufus: Tseng, do you think this whole event was a bad idea?

Tseng: Of course not, sir, You only ever have flawless, revolutionary ideas.

Rufus: Don't use our power imbalance to stroke my ego. Tell me the truth of what you think.

Tseng: I think you're a bastard.

Rufus: !? I meant about the event.

Tseng: I think you're a bastard who deserves to be shanked for putting everyone through this.

Rufus:

[mytherapyisreading14]

Between Pregnancy and Prison | pt. 2

Summary: You found out you’re pregnant after Spencer got arrested in Mexico. You told him a few weeks ago and since then you've both been hoping that you'll be able to get him out of prison before birth.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,1k

Author’s Note: You can find Part 1 here. I recommend to read it first because then the story makes more sense. I hope you like it! :)

It is early in the afternoon when JJ turns off the car engine outside the high walls of the prison. Today is the day Spencer will finally be released. New evidence has come to light that proves his innocence and you can't wait to hold him in your arms again.

JJ looks over at you with a smile on her lips. “How are you feeling?” You take a deep breath and feel the joy running through you. “I'm really nervous, but I'm also incredibly excited. It almost feels like a dream, JJ. As if none of this is real.”

JJ nods and takes your hand to squeeze it. “I know how much this moment means to both of you. You deserve it. You are both so incredibly strong. The last few months haven’t been easy for any of you.”

You nod. “Luckily you and the team were always by my side. Without you I wouldn't have been able to do any of this. I’m so grateful.” JJ smiles. “That’s what friends are there for.”

You return her smile, your mind wandering back to the moment you broke the news to Spencer that you were pregnant. The joy in his voice, the journey from uncertainty to hope. All of this has been like an endless wait, afraid that you won't be able to get him out of here.

But it’s finally coming to an end. You've been visiting him constantly over the last few weeks, encouraging him and always talking about what's going on and how the two of you are holding up.

“I… I still can’t believe it’s really happening,” you say quietly, almost more to yourself. “I wanted him to be out before our baby is born. And now… now he’ll be with me again soon. He’ll be with me when I give birth. I’m so happy,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“You’ll have plenty of time together,” JJ says, her voice warm and soothing. “You and Spencer will experience the last few months together, you will see, everything will be fine.”

You kept thinking about what it would mean for Spencer and you to have a child together. Today is finally the first step into a new life. You place your hand on your stomach, a smile on your lips. “He knows we’re having a baby. But… it still feels so surreal after everything that happened. It’s almost like it’s just now becoming real.”

JJ grins. “I bet he’s just as nervous as you are.” You laugh softly. “Yeah, definitely,” you say, then you take a deep breath and the nervousness inside you is replaced by a feeling of anticipation and confidence.

“I've been waiting for this moment the whole time. For the moment when I can finally get him out of here and hold him in my arms again.”

JJ now turns fully towards you and placed her hand on your shoulder. “Are you ready?” The question is so simple and yet so meaningful. You close your eyes for a moment and let the thoughts of it all race through your head. Of Spencer, of the baby, of the weeks you had to endure without him.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “I'm ready. I've been waiting for this day all along." With a determined nod, JJ reaches for the door handle and opens the door. Her gaze is calm, but you can see the same tension in her eyes that you feel. It's the moment you've all wanted for so long, Spencer is now closer than ever.

“Come on,” she says, smiling at you. “Let’s get our favourite genius out of here.” You take a deep breath and get out of the car, your legs feel like jelly as you take the first step towards the prison. A few more steps and you would hug Spencer. You can't wait.

-

The minutes seem to drag on forever as you sit in the prison lobby, nervously looking at the clock. Every tick of the seconds turns into a dull, booming noise in your head.

You can't wait for the moment when Spencer would finally leave this place, and you feel your anxiety growing as the minutes pass by. You finally want to get out of here and leave everything behind you, together with Spencer.

You sit there completely still, your hands tightly clasped together, your legs impatiently rocking back and forth as you look out the window and keep staring at the same gray walls that you've seen far too often in the last few weeks. “Why does time go by so slowly?” you whisper to yourself.

JJ is currently in the middle of speaking to one of the guards to sort out the last bureaucratic hurdles. You hear her voice, but it sounds somehow distant, as if you're trapped in another world marked by all the excitement and hormones of your pregnancy.

You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself, but the constant urge to finally see Spencer again won't let you rest. In your mind you have thrown yourself into his arms again, feeling his familiar smell and the strength of his embrace. Finally everything will be okay again.

But as long as you wait here, it feels like you'll never get out of this queue again. It's JJ who finally breaks you out of your trance. She steps towards you and her voice is clearer and closer again. “Hey, we’re ready to go. He’s right here.”

Your heart skips a beat as the words echo through your head. You immediately feel the relief, but with the relief comes a new wave of excitement and nervousness. Your pulse races as you sit up and suddenly everything around you is spinning.

The hormones that have been going on with you for weeks, the feeling of anticipation and tension are too much at once. Your legs start to shake. “Hey, are you okay?” JJ asks worriedly as she looks at you and notices your slightly different expression.

You blink and try to compose yourself. “I… I don’t know. I feel kind of dizzy. I’ve had too much stress in the last few weeks,” you say. JJ is at your side immediately, her hand wrapping around your arm for support, helping you steady yourself again. “Everything will get better soon, I promise,” she says.

“Thanks,” you murmur, leaning against her for a moment until the dizziness subsides a little and you can see more clearly again. Your breathing is a little faster, but you slowly find your way back into the moment. “I just want him to finally be here.”

“I know,” JJ says with a smile. “Come on, let’s go.” She leads you to the prison guard, who has already turned around to accompany you to one of the back rooms. Your heart is now pounding louder in your chest as you walk down the long hallway.

You feel the excitement and joy growing with every step. A short time later you stop in front of a door and the guard takes out the keys. You hold your breath as the key turns in the lock and the door opens.

And then there he is. Spencer. He stands in the room, his arms relaxed at his side, but when he sees you, a smile appears on his face, a smile that takes your heart by storm. Your heartbeat increases even more and without a second thought you run straight towards him.

You're just a step away from him when you finally fall into his arms and hug him tight, like you'll never let him go again. And at that moment all the dams inside you burst.

The tears well up in your eyes, running down your face as you hold on to him as if you're afraid he'll disappear again. Spencer pulls you tightly to him and just holds you in his arms.

Then he leans in and gives you a kiss on the top of your head, so tenderly it almost hurts to remind you how much you missed him. None of you say anything. You just stand there, holding each other and enjoying this moment of relief that has been so long coming.

JJ stands at the door , watching from afar with a smile on her face. It's Spencer who speaks first, his voice cracking and full of emotion. “I missed you so much,” he whispers in your ear, “missed you so incredibly. I’m so happy to finally hold you in my arms again.” You nod, the tears continuing to fall but a smile spreading across your face.

“And we’re taking you home now. Finally. We're together again, Spence.” He smiles back, tears in his eyes, and you can see him thoroughly enjoying the relief of this moment. “I can hardly believe it. I'm so happy to finally have you back with me. I can really be there for you and the baby now.”

You slowly pull away from him and look deep into his big, brown eyes. In this moment, everything you have ever wanted is within reach and close again.

"Let's go home," JJ says as she steps further into the room and greets Spencer with a hug. You take Spencer's hand again and you make your way outside together.

-

The air outside is crisp and cool and you see Spencer taking a deep breath. You've finally left prison behind you, and Spencer, now walking alongside you, looks like he's still trying to convince himself that he's truly free now. You feel his hand in yours, tight and secure, as if he never wanted to be parted from you again.

It's the moment you and Spencer have been working towards for so long. And now, as you walk hand in hand with him to the car, it all feels like a long overdue reunion that has finally become a reality.

“Are you sure you have everything?” JJ asks, looking around again as if to make sure nothing had been forgotten. But you and Spencer only have eyes for each other. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” Spencer says, looking at you with a smile. When you get to the car, JJ opens the door.

Spencer lets you get in first, then holds the door open for himself and sits right next to you in the back seat. Without another word, he immediately puts his arm around you. It's a natural gesture, as if he wants nothing more than to have you with him. But in the next moment you screw up your face slightly and he looks over at you worried.

“Are you okay?” he asks immediately, his voice worried and deep as he looks at you sideways. You laugh quietly, happy that he's paying attention to you like that.

“Yes, everything is fine. I… I think there’s someone else who would like to finally get to know you properly,” you answer and wink at him. You squeeze his hand, still holding yours, and place it gently on your stomach.

Spencer stares at your stomach for a moment until he feels the small, light nudge. Another gentle kick, his eyes widen and you can see them filling with something you can't quite name.

He is overwhelmed, he is grateful, and at this moment also so incredibly happy. “I feel it,” he whispers, his voice almost shaking a little as he holds your hand on your stomach.

Your eyes also fill with tears. "Finally. It's our baby, Spencer. Our little miracle.” His eyes shine and you feel him pulling you a little tighter. You lean against his shoulder, pressing your face into the soft material of his shirt and closing your eyes for a moment. In this moment everything is perfect.

“I can hardly believe that you’re finally here,” you say quietly as you feel his closeness even more intensely. “Finally... finally we are together. And you’re with me and with our baby.”

Spencer takes a deep breath, and you can feel the moment the tension falls further away from him. The burden, the weeks of waiting, the fears, the uncertainty. It's over. Now a new chapter begins.

“I’m so excited for everything that’s coming,” he says, his voice full of warmth. “I can’t wait to experience all of this with you and our little baby. Now… now everything will be okay and I’m finally here to take care of you.”

You press yourself a little tighter against him and feel the strong feeling of security that only Spencer can give you. And then when you open your eyes and look up at him, you see the same feeling in his eyes - the certainty that everything would be okay, that the fight was worth it.

You two got through the whole thing together and are finally where you belong. Together. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice almost fragile but full of love. “I love you too,” he says back quietly, his gaze softening as he holds your hand on your stomach. “And I’m so excited to go on this journey with you.”

-

Taglist: @waytoomanyteenagefeels @frickin-bats @alyeskathewave @beesin03 @person-005 @chloemehchloe

[gloomysoup]

okay i'm back. not my best work, but it'll do. this got way longer than intended.

-

Steve isn't suicidal. He's not. It's just- it's just that he can't seem to find it in himself to fight. Even with every nerve and muscle in his body screaming at him to get away from the pain, he can't. The tail around his neck is tightening, there's tiny, sharp teeth digging into the flesh and tearing him open, but he just can't fight back. He can't make himself get away from the touch he craves so badly. So badly, in fact, that he has spent the last two years finding touch in all the worst places with people he knows are only using him for a tight hole to fuck.

Still.

He's lying on the ground, nerve-endings screaming and limbs thrashing beyond his control, but he can't make it stop. Doesn't want to, if he has to be honest with himself.

But then Nancy is there, and Robin is there, and Eddie is there. He doesn't want them to know. Doesn't want them to think less of him. Doesn't want to make Robin worry. So he fights. No matter how much he just wants to accept the touch for what it is, he fights against it. He hopes his tears mix with his sweat enough that no one will be able to tell.

His injuries are bad. So much so that he can barely hold himself up once the adrenaline is fading. His shoulders slump, and his knees are weak, but he doesn't want anyone to know. He tries. He tries so hard to act like he's fine. He tries so hard to act like he doesn't wish they hadn't followed him down. He tries to act grateful for the life he wishes he wasn't living anymore.

He doesn't want Robin to worry.

Nancy's hands on him, wrapping his injuries, should help. Her touch should make him feel better, but it doesn't. It only makes things worse. Because Nancy didn't love him. Nancy tore his heart from his chest and stomped it into the ground right there in the bathroom of Tina's party, and again in the alley behind the gym. Nancy's touch sets fire to his skin, and he can't get away from it fast enough. The second his torso is wrapped up, he's pushing past her.

And then he's got Eddie's battle vest.

It smells so strongly of Eddie that Steve's knees nearly give out. He tries to act unaffected. Tries to act like this isn't everything he's ever wanted, despite the circumstances. Tries to act like his skin isn't crawling with the need for someone to touch him.

Then his legs really do give out on him.

They're walking, trying to find their way back into town- well, the Upside Down version of town- and Steve's knees buckle. The adrenaline is gone. The safety of touch, no matter how much it hurt, is gone.

Steve's heart rate drops, his knees buckle, and he thinks this is it. This is where he really, actually dies.

It takes a bit for him to realize this is a drop.

But there's Eddie, right by his side. Eddie, who is heaving him up and supporting his weight. Eddie, who has strong hands on him, holding him. Eddie, who is pumping out so many comforting smells in an effort to help until they can get Steve somewhere safe.

It isn't enough.

The further they walk, the longer it takes, the worse Steve gets.

He's dead weight against Eddie's side as the alpha practically drags him through the woods. Nancy is leading the way with purpose, and Robin keeps glancing between Nancy and Steve with panic in her eyes and anxiety overwhelming her scent.

Eddie is doing everything he can to remain calm.

He isn't very successful.

The second they finally cross the threshold into the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house, Eddie has Steve on the floor of the living room. He sits on the ground with Steve cradled in his lap, arms tight around him. He's whispering all the encouraging words he can think of. He's trying to put out as much calming alpha scent that he can.

It's not safe for Steve to be so deep in a drop in the middle of the Upside Down, and they all know it.

Nothing is working.

Steve isn't suicidal. But if it gets him the touch, and the feeling of safety, that he so desperately desires? Well... Steve isn't above dying to get what he wants.

Idk what it is but I just love omega! Steve with body worship…

—

All of his life Steve has been put on a pedestal; taught to primp and preen but he never really received it. Never any tender touches or words of encouragement.

He’s the Harrington’s prized pup, and when his first heat hits and word comes out that he’s an omega; Steve becomes that much more of a pawn for his parents to use to gain control.

Because of this, Steve acts out; of course he does. On nights his parents are away he will throw himself at anyone. He doesn’t care how rough the touch is because it means he is being touched, being held, being close to someone for once.

He forms his pack and of course Robin and the kids are there. They love him and grow to be practically glued at the hip but it’s just never enough. Steve needs to be held down, trapped under the weight of an alpha for the night for his omega to soften to a gentle purr ‘Held. Safe. Adored’ even if he knows it isn’t real, just something to help stave off the need eating him from the inside out.

Then comes the spring break from hell-

touched starved omega Steve, my beloved🥲

[drdemonprince]

I'm just now starting to process and come to grips with CNC fantasies that I'd previously denied having for a few reasons. One being that I'd always interpreted CNC fantasy as only coming from the perspective of wanting to be violated (or role play at it rather) and genuinely hadn't considered the possibility of having a fantasy of being the agressor (the fact that I'm a genderfluid AFAB person who presents publically as an, albeit not especially feminine, cis woman definitely also contributed to my idea that any rape or CNC fantasy i could have must be in the context of me as a victim) and part of that which I'm having a hard time processing (to the extent I'm willing to put this forward for insights) is how my fantasies manifest. One is the fact that they all involve deception or incapacitation of the victim in some manner be in drugging, taking advantage of them whilst they are already in a deep sleep or not fully conscious, or even claiming to have tattoos and encouraging a thorough exploration of my body by a self avowed tattoo fetishist knowing full well that I don't have any in order to "trick them" into sleeping with me. The second part has to do with who the victims are. The first category could be described as a revenge fantasy and as such I don't feel especially guilty for having it. More specifically the idea of raping or sexual abusing someone who has a history of being a perpetrator of that class of crimes against others (think of it like being the Dexter Morgan of sex crimes). The second type of victim in these scenarios are people who wouldn't willingly have sex with me irl due to stigmatized factors of my being such as my fatness, my bisexuality, my gender-fluidity/non confirming presentation, my autism/neurodivergency, my limited prior sexual experience relative to most people my age, and even my youthful appearance (the last happens less than it did a few years ago but it used to feel brutal and yes all of these are reasons people have explicitly refused to date or be intimate with me) basically by as I mentioned above deceiving or incapacitating them into a situation where they can't resist or more often are unaware of me having sex with them as it happens and only learn about it after waking up if at all. This is the part I feel shameful for desiring because if you asked me what I'd think if a cis male incel did that in real life I'd unequivocally say it was wrong and horrific no questions asked but then when I fantasize about doing it to someone as a means of pulling one over on them, tricking/convincing someone who wouldn't willingly sleep with me or desire me into doing so anyway, well quite frankly as conflicted as it makes me feel there is something that feels empowering about they and I don't know how to process it all

The Dexter Morgan of sex crimes! I feel you. When a certain video game writer & Youtuber previously possessed of a softboy reputation was outed several years ago as a repeated sexual harasser, I fantasized about sliding into his DMs and harassing him the same way that he had bothered others -- I'd always been very attracted to the guy and thought to myself, wow, he'd actually be really easy to bag right now. I get the fantasy, I find it very hot -- it's an opportunity to be sexually aggressive and feel desired without risking rejection or the possibility of harming someone, or so our minds tell us.

There would be nothing wrong with a young, sexually inexperienced man fantasizing about having sex with women through deception, intoxication, or coercion either, as I'm sure you realize. There's nothing ever wrong with a fantasy, and those of us who do dream of being sexually preyed upon from the other side of the Dominant/submissive slash are indebted to the genuinely decent people who long to be the aggressors that we dream about, lest we have to resort to someone who is just genuinely predatory. So let's just establish all that right out the gate. There is nothing wrong with you imagining taking advantage of people, and in fact a great many people who want to be "taken advantage" of in a negotiated kinky scenario, and the more open sadists/Doms/manipulators that we have out there in the world owning their kinks and looking for partners, the fewer people will get their needs met through far messier, riskier means.

It's certainly find to entertain these ideas in the privacy of your mind (or any other ideas at all ever), but what I'd like to ask you is whether you'd like to bring some of these ideas into reality a bit. You may find it to be a genuine power rush to put yourself out there as a Dominant/coercive-kink play figure and see just how many attractive men are absolutely slobbering to be with someone like you.

You are person generally interpreted as a woman who wants to take on the aggressor role in this case; that is much sought-after within kinky communities and you'd have your pick of any number of partners. A lot of them will suck, or simply be uninteresting or a bad match, but you can have your pick of the litter and find someone who is communicative, treats you decently, and is understanding that this is your first time at the rodeo.

Roleplaying a tattoo examination scene or similarly less-intense iteration of your fantasy seems a natural first step. Choose a scenario that you and an interested partner can figure out how to play-act without any complicated restraints or intoxicants involved, and plenty of off-ramps, should anybody need a break or feel squirrely. Get involved in the local kink scene if you aren't, and build community with some other Dominants/aggressors. Develop your skills and expand your kinky horizons. One day, with a decent amount of practice, you could find yourself actually drugging a consenting partner that you have a long track record with and assaulting them. (weed, melatonin, or maybe a small dose of a cold medicine are decent first substances for this kind of thing). I can't tell you how many people are out there longing to experience such a thing -- but I can tell you that I'm one of them! you can find many people who would say the same! have some fun!

[vershautece]

There's been a lot of discourse on whether or not he was a virgin, sounds insane considering he looks like THAT but is it that far fetched? Since he's always been incredibly busy, never seemed to have a serious relationship etc. Perhaps it could be why he wanted to read that book, to be prepared. I'm probably reaching though.

i get what you mean, but there’s little things he’s said that makes me think he isn’t

his reddit post insinuating he was anxious he wouldn’t be able to have sex bc of his locked hip; his notes on goodreads about a self help book included ‘regular sex’ but u could say that was just him taking notes from what the person is saying; but overall he has a couple tweets about how cultures (like Japan) should encourage sex, and i think with him being such a social person, always wanting to meet people and desperate to connect with ppl on a deep level i think he would be having sex

i do think though that he’s been for long stretches of time without it (when his hip was locked, and also like u said because he’s so busy; another thing i remember is him saying he had groinal pain on and off for a year)

and i also think he could have been a virgin for quite a long time - it’s not like the nerdy guys he hangs around would have a lot of action either, lol, and they’re all so busy. the fb post about him on penn crushes that he replied to said despite all my best efforts im still single, so unless he hooked up with random girls, he probably wasn’t having sex a lot (but that was only 5 years ago so im thinking he wasn’t a virgin at that point - he could’ve slept with girls without being in a relationship with them bc that’s normal too, soooo idk)

[royal-bubble-tea]

Stray Kids Headcanon

Stray Kids as Teachers 🤓📚

I'm currently studying to become a teacher and sitting in one of my lectures I wondered what kind of teachers the SKZ members would be and what subject(s) they would teach.

Bang Chan 🐺

he is super calm and understanding, his patience level cannot be reached

tries to be best friends with his students always trying to make them comfortable

He would hate to be the bad guy, would rather have a chill time but can be stern if need be

would always find a way to help a struggling student

is loved by all teachers and parents a like

If you meet him in public he is open to chat but wants to separate his private and work life

He dresses casual and of course in all black, but still looks handsome and approachable

Subjekts he would teach: Music (obviously) and physical education

He knows that these subjects are not for everyone but he would encourage his students and would give good grades for trying your best

Lee Know🐈‍⬛

He is that one weird teacher but in a good way

Would claim that he hates his students or that they annoy him, but deep down he loves and adores them

Has inside jokes with his students

In contrast to Bang Chan he is the one who would avoid his students in public, this man would literally vanish

Is okay with parents but parent teacher conferences still stress him out

His fashion style would be more towards business or silly/ cat sweathers

His subject would be: geograhpy, he is introverted and acts, like a cat so I feel this subject fits him very well

He is an amazing choreographer and performer so he needs/is good with structure so this subject fits him well

Would have pictures of his cats on his desk, can easily be distracted if asked about them

He once spend an entire lesson talking about his cats

Changbin🐷🐰

He is always so loud and has to much energy, which is good when its the end of the school day but if your are not a morning person then pray that you don't have him as your teacher in the first lessons

Is also very good with the parents, especially with the moms

Is loved by everyone in the teachers room, even the school secretary loves him

Also dresses either casual because of him being a p.e. teacher or dressing up trying to impress the cute art teacher

Another physical education teacher who supports his students and wants his students to have fun during his classes and maybe take some ideas or inspiration home with them

His other subject is math, but he is not a scary maths teacher, he often tries to help everyone understand the topic and is willing to explain it more that once

Hyunjin 🥟

Mr. Picasso himself definetly is an Art teacher

Walking around the hallways with paint stains on his hands and clothes

Sleeves rolled up and colours sprinkled up to his elbows, pencils or brushes behind his ears

He would dress in slacks and a dress shirt, but the sleeves would be rolled up and some buttons loosened

Let's students listen to music and encourages them to get creative

Will love everything as long as it is close to the guidelines or the topic

He is part of pabo Racha and it shows a little in the organisation of his desk or class room

Has a crush on the cute little p.e. teacher but does not know how to act on it, has a folder of drawings (draw him like one of your french girls)

Jisung 🐿

Music teacher, I don't have to explain this one

He loves to teach this subject often getting carried away from the Curriculum and just wanting to enjoy making music with his students

Writes songs for the theatre club

Leader of the school band, won multiple prices at different competitions, is so damn proud when looking at the awards displayed in the hallways

He is a little air head, walking around the school with his clothes a mess and sheets of paper trailing behind him

Don't make him do parent teacher conferences because he will cry, he begs Chan to take his conferences

Has a crush on the geography teacher, writes songs about him/for him in secret

Felix 🐥

Not a teacher but a social worker

Pure ray of sunshine, the students love him and often come to him to consult with him if they have trouble in school

Parents will cry tears of joy after talking to him and getting help and guidelines on how to parent their children

Organises special school bonding events for the students, like charity events or fund raisers, sports festival .... you name it

Students will always volunteer to help him

But not only students can come to him to talk, some teachers seek him out as well for comfort or to have a nice little chat

He makes sure that Chan goes home on time, drinks enough water and stops stressing about everything

Seungmin🐶

Similar to Minho, acts all tough and like he does not give a shit about his students but he will fight for them and protect them at all cost

His subjects would be something science related, he is just smart like that

Tries to make his lessons as fun as possible to make sure that pupils understand the topic

Leader of the debate club, he loves to see his students destroy opponents in discussions, often offers some snarky or sarcastic comments himself

Has a soft spot for one of the art teachers but will never admit it out loud or will fight you if you mention it

Jeongin🦊

The youngest amongst the teachers and not even a full on teacher yet

Currently still a student teacher, but already in love with the job and the students

Another Art teacher, but more modern art and design focused

Loves to share an office with Hyunjin, but would love his personal space back even more

Often comes to consult with Chan, sometimes doubting himself after being critised

Has a crush on the science teacher but fears that his feelings are not reciprocated or that he may not be smart enough

Students love him, give him good feedback and would be more than happy to have him as a long term teacher

[sweetbillwriting]

Way Out of Line

FIVE

Beneath my perfume and make-up I'm just a baby in disguise. And though I know that it's wrong to be alone with him that "come on look" is in my eyes.

Character: Keith Toshko from Barbarian (2022) played by Bill Skarsgård.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: Thank you to all of you who read this. It's really encouraging to see likes ticking in. Feel free to leave a comment too. 🩷

“You know they would throw you out if they knew you're sleeping with a married man. Or, is he using you? Is that it? It all sounds so uncharacteristic of you.”

Claire and I sat in a lonely corner of the campus cafe. She was a member of the same sorority as I and knew as well as I about their strict rules. For some reason, I had joined a religious sorority when I didn't get a spot in the other ones, and now I had strict rules to follow about alcohol, abstinence, and activities. The closest I came to being religious was my mom's background being Catholic, but now I was a part of a Puritan sorority and pretended to love Jesus more than my parents. I did it because it looked good on the résumé and to get friends because I had struggled with that in the beginning of college. Claire was one of my friends from the sorority. She was much more liberal than the others, even if she was a virgin and waited for a man to marry her before she would spread her legs.

“No! He doesn't force me. Keith is… Really kind. A gentleman.”

“If he was, he wouldn't encourage you to have sex.”

I didn't say anything because I felt a weird feeling when she said that. I felt both promiscuous and also irritated. She made it sound like me and Keith just had sex when we hadn't even had sex, really.

Just when the silence started to get uncomfortable, my phone rang where it lay on the table next to my takeaway mug of tea. I gave it a look and saw the phone number that ended with 78. Keith. I hadn't put his number in because I didn't want my parents to accidentally see who was calling me. During a two-week’ period, we had started something new, him picking me up in his car so we could make out in a secluded place. It was awfully exciting, and I felt wild doing it.

“Hey bunny,” he said with his most charming voice and made me giggle like a little schoolgirl.

“Hey…” I hadn't yet come up with a good pet name for him, even if I tried every night.

“Are you ready? I can be there in ten minutes.”

I gave Claire a fast look; she looked at me bored. I had left her earlier that week for him. She knew we just made out because I didn't feel comfortable doing anything more in his car, even though he tried the first time. He had taken it as a gentleman and hadn't tried again after that. Claire was just worried for me, and I knew she would have been supportive if it was another guy, but this was an older, married man. She sighed when I giggled and said he could pick me up at the regular place.

“I'm sorry, but we don't have so much time—”

“Because your parents would never accept that you two were dating?”

I groaned, irritated, and collected my things.

“No, because he will go away for work for three weeks.”

She nodded a bit regretfully and took a sip of her tea.

“What kind of work?”

“Well, he's a musician, but, like, jazz musicians like to jam with many different people to challenge their sound—”

“Jam?” She said it teasingly because it was obviously not my word.

“That's what he says! Anyway, they're like a collective, but he also does much of the administrative things, so he will try to find cheap places for them to stay so they don't need to put out so much money for hotels and so on.”

Claire nodded with big eyes. Something told me she was surprised I knew much about his work. He and I had actually talked about such things. It wasn't just sex like she believed.

Knew you were perfect after the first kiss. Took a deep breath like, "Ooh" Feels like forever, baby, I never thought that it would be you…

After had said goodbye to Claire, I rushed away to the parking lot where Keith usually would wait. His Volvo stood anonymous among all the other cars. I wished a bit that he had a cooler car; that would add to the experience of having a secret relationship. He started the engine when I approached, causing me to quicken my steps, which made him open the door and peek out.

“You don't have to run; we're not in a hurry.”

I smiled playfully at him and ran to the passenger door so I could jump in next to him. He sat down again, and both of us slammed our respective doors closed. He looked at me with a smirk, and I fixed my hair as a nervous tic.

“You don't need to run, but I should be honest and say that I like seeing that little skirt lift with every step.”

He smirked and pulled lightly on my pink, pleated skirt. I had thought it was too short to wear, but his words made me decide I would wear it more often. I blushed, my cheeks almost as pink as the skirt’s fabric, and he didn't make it better by taking my hand and kissing the back of it after he started the car.

He never kissed me among people, but in his car he could be a little more daring and take my hand or caress my thigh. Now he took one more step and kissed my hand. I looked at him with starry eyes while he was driving, so at first I didn't even hear his question.

“Hm? Did you get back the assignment?” He asked. I had an assignment a week before that he had helped me with. He asked about the assignment now like it was his work.

“Nothing yet, but I have another assignment you can help me with.”

I smirked a little when I saw him get disappointed, but then he smiled a little.

“You can always get help from me. Always.”

I giggled a little which made him grin, but I could see he didn't understand why I giggled really.

He drove us to a park where there was a parking spot hidden behind the trees. We had been there before, and there we could make out in the backseat without being seen. We did the same today and shifted between talking about school and his work. For me, it felt like we were in a relationship, and between relaxed talk and heated kisses, I gave him intimate hugs. While I sat straddled his lap and hugged him around his neck, his hands had snuck under my tights and hugged my ass cheeks.

“I have an idea…” He mumbled strained, like my hug suffocated him a bit. I let him go a bit so I could watch his face. “I'm going away Sunday night—”

I looked down in sadness, but Keith reacted at once. “Aw honey… It's not a long time…” He put my hair behind my ears and smiled comfortingly towards me. “I'll be home before you know it.”

“Promise?” I could hear I sounded like I did when my parents left me in school when I was little, but the feeling was almost the same. Keith nodded with a smirk and continued to play with my hair.

“But on Saturday… I have booked a room at a hotel, so our last night could be amazing and… I really want your first time to be special, baby.”

He gave me a pointed but soft look and pushed out his crotch a bit. I gave him a blushing smile because the thought of making love to him made me all flustered. It felt like I was a virgin, but I wasn't, but Keith called it my first time anyway. I wondered if he had forgotten that I had had sex with my high school boyfriend or if he really meant our first time. Either way, I just smiled because it didn't feel important; he wanted to make it nice for me, and that was sweet.

“Can you afford that? I know divorce lawyers are expensive and—"

“I will make myself afford it. I want that moment with you.”

His fingers dragged through my hair, then over my thin, cable-knit sweater. My nipples had already hardened just by the thought of being alone with him in a hotel room, and he couldn't stop himself from dragging his thumbs over them. I giggled a little, with excitement and nerves, but leaned forward so I could kiss him. He laughed softly when I giggled into the kiss, and out of nowhere he smacked my ass, causing me to jump in his lap.

×××

Baby, I'd give up anything to travel inside your mind. Baby, I fall in love again come every summertime. My daddy taught me to choose 'em wisely, but you don't have to try 'cause, baby, I fall in love every summertime…

I bit my lip when he came into the living room where I sat. Keith was just dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and showed off his trim physique. With a gray towel, he dried his hair with one hand. When he saw my lustful gaze, he flexed his stomach so his abs became more defined, and it made me gaze down at my laptop with a heavy blush. I could hear him laugh softly, then he sat down next to me. I was working on the assignment I had mentioned to him before but I had gotten stuck and mostly reread my words over and over. My dad had tried to help me but wasn't much help, and if I were honest, I had known at once it wasn't his help I needed but Keith's. My dad and mom were intellectual but didn't have that analytic gift Keith had. He could just turn words around that made me think in a different way or ask a simple question. He always had a new angle and a pedagogical way that made me think. It was also really sexy to listen to him, and sometimes I lost my attention because I started to drift away in filthy thoughts. Now he sat next to me, shirtless, smelling of warm vanilla, rosemary and oak and quickly corrected my text. Just shifting words in some places or fixing the grammar. I breathed in the heavenly scent and looked at his profile. I had looked at his features closely so many times but always found something new to look at; this time it was the two small scars on his cheek. He had a bigger one on his other cheek, but these were smaller and not as deep.

“Hey?” Far away, I could hear my dad's voice. It sounded like he was standing on the other side of a railway, but he really stood in the doorway, looking at us confused. I hadn't even thought about our behavior being weird; for me, it felt like this must be normal behavior for a girl and her dad's friend just because our real behavior was so much more scandalous. I looked at my dad and smiled innocently while Keith sat up better, showing off his naked chest and stomach for my dad.

“What are you doing?” My dad tried to smile and sat down awkwardly on the armrest of an armchair.

“Keith is helping me with the assignment.”

Keith smiled at my dad and put his hands behind his head. I gave him a fast look with red cheeks and hoped my dad didn't notice.

“You know how good I am at those sorts of things. I was the one helping you in college, I think?” Keith teased my dad, who still had the same awkward smile on his lips. He took some deep breaths and then looked at me. I wore just a strappy top, like I often did at home, and a pair of baby pink velour pants.

“Honey, I think you should put something more on…” He said it strictly to me, and just that tone made me swallow hard and nod. Even if my dad hadn't said anything mean and never had done, his words made me feel cheap so I put away the laptop so I could run up to my bedroom. In that moment I forgot he actually had a point, that Keith had given me the wrong sort of attention; I was just ashamed my dad had even had the possibility to see me as a sexual being. I wanted him to see me as his little girl forever.

I stayed in my room and watched an old 2000s series until I thought it must be time for dinner. I had put on a white oversized sweater and walked down doubtfully, afraid to disappoint my dad again. I could hear loud laughter from the dining room, and even if I felt awkward, I entered to see what was happening. My dad and Keith sat and played cards while drinking whiskey. Keith was also dressed now and wore a plaid flannel shirt that was looking ragged after years of use. He looked up at me with a smile, and so did my dad, who opened his mouth to say something, but Keith managed to interrupt him.

“Do you know how to play?” He asked with a smile. I giggled, because I always did when he smiled that playful smile towards me, and then I shook my head. Once again I had a hard time knowing what was okay behavior for us to have, so when he pulled me down to sit over one of his thick thighs, I let him. He held me close to his chest while he explained the game and showed me his cards. I looked up at him dreamily and laid my hand over his when he hugged my waist. He looked me deep in the eyes while explaining and smirked when I licked my lips. We were totally gone in our own world and didn't even notice that my dad had tried to interrupt us several times.

“Keith!” Exclaimed my dad, upset after he tried to interrupt us in a calm way without succeeding. I looked up at him, and Keith let me go slowly; both he and I knew what my dad wanted to say, and we swallowed hard. I moved away, sitting down on a chair far from them while Keith fixed his clothes and hair nervously.

“Can I talk to you?” My dad sounded like he tried to control his anger when he stood up, trying to look threatening, but it lost its impact when Keith stood up in all his 6 '4 glory, with broad shoulders and thick arms. My dad probably felt the same thing because his anger seemed to wash away, and instead he gave Keith a nervous smile. I watched them go away to the kitchen and sharpened my ears so I could hear their conversation.

“Keith… I get that you don't mean it like that, but… She's my daughter. You can't let her sit in your lap.”

“I'm sorry, man. It was stupid. She just looked so sad, and I wanted… Yeah, I think your words earlier really hurt her, you know?”

My dad was silent a bit longer than you should be in a conversation, and I understood he didn't like what Keith said. “I care for her. She's such a sweet, sweet girl, and I want her best,” continued Keith with his soft voice. I felt my own nerves itch under my skin, but he didn't sound nervous at all, laying for my dad like that.

“I'm happy you care for her. That's great, and you can probably help—”

“Can we just forget this now? And maybe you can chill a bit? I don't mean it like that. I just want her best.”

I didn't hear them say anything more after that, and I imagined that my dad had given him more of a silent agreement. The argument was embarrassing, but I had liked hearing Keith say several times that he cared for me. It was also a relief to hear how my dad believed him. He didn't need to know everything. For now, it was mine and Keith's love, just ours.

×××

The lilac bra was in a balconette style with white lace and without straps. I had a matching pair of thongs that had the same big satin bow in the back as the bra had between the cups. The set was adorable. I also had a black set. A black lace triangle bra with high-cut panties. Both of them were see-through. In a panic, I had borrowed my dad's credit card that Saturday so I could shop with Farah before my hotel stay with Keith. I couldn't come to him in my cotton panties; I needed sexy lingerie. Farah also helped me with some other clothes. She was used to men more than I was and helped me buy things that Keith would think were sexy. Even if Keith didn't seem to be bothered by my lack of experience, I wanted him to think I was sexy, not just a stupid girl. My parents thought I would sleep over at Farah's and that Keith would already go to Detroit to work. They didn't react when I jumped into his car, laying my suitcase next to his, because they believed he would just give me a ride to Farah’s. In reality, we would go to the closest city and check into a hotel so he could, for the first time, penetrate me. It was an awful lie, but still I liked it, and when we had left my neighborhood, both Keith and I laughed in euphoria.

The room wasn't a room but a suite, decorated in fluffy beige fabrics and with gold details. It was much more lavish than I was prepared for; he had really spent some money on me. He had found the white grand piano and played a tune lazily while still standing up. He wore an emerald knitted sweater and the same black jeans I was used to seeing him in. He looked like such a man, and I had seen how the receptionist smiled a bit too big while he was checking in. I stood further away with the suitcases, so I couldn't hear them, but I could see how she laughed at something he said. I played with the edge of my short brown gingham dress while looking in the room, the same nervous tics I had when looking at him and the receptionist. I felt misplaced but smiled when he looked up at me from the piano and then walked playfully towards me with his hands in his front pockets.

“Baby girl… Is it something?” He smiled softly and took a hold of my chin and steered it towards his face. He did it more forcefully and pulled me up on my toes with the grip. He looked down on my feet but smiled like he just thought it was cute how I was standing on my tippy toes like the perfect Barbie doll.

“I'm really happy to be here with you…” I just said and dragged my hands over his hips.

“Should we bring up a bottle of champagne?”

I cleared my throat awkwardly, and Keith released me with a smirk when he understood what I meant.

“Oh right, you don't drink. Ehm… A Coke?”

×××

It didn't take him long to get me to sit in his lap on the edge of the bed and share deep kisses. On the bedside table stood his champagne bottle, open, with a used champagne glass and my small bottle of Coke still half full. He had pulled up my skater dress around my waist and kneaded my nylon covered ass cheeks in his hands.

"Jacqueline, this is all your fault, you know…” he said playfully and steered me so I laid my belly over his other thigh. I lay down more comfortably without a thought, so pleased with him having power over me.

“What's my fault?” I said with a giggle. Keith pulled down my tights to my knees but continued when he realized I couldn't move with them there. Once again he corrected my position, so I lay over his lap with my ass in the air. The nerves had started to wake up again, but I trusted him, so I let his long fingers knead my flesh while he breathed deeply.

“That we’re here. You know, you seduced me… Since Christmas Day, you have strutted around, just teasing me.”

I giggled a little in my hands, quite pleased I had been able to seduce a grown man, but when I felt a hard spank on my left cheek, the giggle got caught in my throat. Keith was quiet; he maybe waited for me to say something about his action, but when I didn't say anything, he did it again. I made a pained noise, and once again he waited in silence to see if I would say something. I couldn't decide what I felt about it at first, but when he talked at the same time as he spanked me the third time, I knew that I liked it.

“My little baby girl… I just spank you because I want your best.” I moaned, and that made Keith play with the thin band of my lavender thongs. He followed the thread down between my cheeks and then laid two fingers over the lilac fabric over my pussy. Smoothly he dragged them up and down, making the blood dance around between my legs. When I made a small moan again, he smacked my right cheek hard.

“Now you have me; you got what you wanted, baby girl. Now I want some things too.” I looked back at him with some struggle. Keith must have seen it was hard for me to look at him in that angle, so he pulled me up and straddled over his legs again, but the change of position also seemed to have changed his need and with dominant hands; he opened the zipper in the back of my dress and then pulled it off. I thought he would maybe want to admire me in my lingerie set, but instead he demanded that I take it all off. I stood between his legs when I pulled off both the bra and the panties. I felt embarrassed and small when I stood, once again, fully naked in front of him while he was still dressed. Keith smiled and dragged me down in bed, this time letting me lie on my back while he sat next to me, looking down on me. Without saying anything, he pushed my knee down on the mattress so he could see me fully exposed. I let him do anything he wanted just to see his eyes glitter. He dragged his big hand on the inside of my thigh and then licked his lips.

“You're my sweet girl, right?” He looked at me with a soft smile while continuing to pat the inside of my thigh.

“Yes.” I nodded eagerly, and I spread my thighs even more.

“My baby girl, Bunny, and no one else's?”

I nodded and looked down at his hands that he had raised to be able to drag two fingers lazily over my slit. “Say it, say that you're my baby girl, only mine.” His fingertips started to do slow circles on the inside of my pussy, and when I opened my mouth to talk, his long index finger pushed into me. I said my answer with a moan: 

“I'm only your baby girl…”

Keith leaned down and kissed me while his thumb had found my clit to roll in circles. I looked at him with heavy eyes when he kept his face close to mine. 

“And I'm your daddy.” With a fast hand movement, he made it feel like both my clit and my insides vibrated, and I moaned loudly, but when he didn't get an answer, he stopped and looked at me again. I looked at him almost hurt, but I knew what he wanted to hear at that moment; there was just one right answer. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“Your only daddy.” 

“My only daddy.”

Keith smirked and then gave me a kiss. 

“Do you want your first time to be with daddy?” 

He stood up on his knees, pulling off his sweater. I looked at him, still lying on my back. He was so big and beautiful. My sex was still pounding, and I was deep in that little world he had created for us. 

“I want Daddy to be my first.”

Keith stood up, looking pleased but also powerful. I could understand why, because I was just lying there, wet and needy, just waiting for his cock. Slowly he pulled off his jeans and boxers so I could see him in full naked glory. His cock was hard in anticipation of what would happen. He looked so big when he crawled down between my legs, his hands holding my thighs, pushing them back against my belly. He was just sharp edges and lean muscles. I moaned when he dragged his cock through my juices and when he spanked my clit lightly with the head of his cock. I was so far gone by my pleasure, but when I felt him push against my opening, the nerves made themselves known again, and I lifted my hips so he couldn't penetrate me.

“What is it, sweetie?” Asked Keith softly and dragged his hands over my thighs. I looked at his kind eyes for a few seconds, and he gave me a crooked smile, like he knew what I wanted to say. 

“Tell Daddy.”

“Will it hurt?” 

“Maybe a little.”

“It's so big.” 

“I know, honey… Daddy's cock is big.” 

I nodded a little, my cheeks heating because of our conversation's nature.

“Say that Daddy's cock is big…” 

He whispered and leaned down to kiss me. I kissed him at once after that and looked into his green eyes. 

“Daddy's cock is so biihii-” 

He hadn't let me say the whole sentence until he had penetrated me. I could feel it wasn't fully, and when he moved to look down, I could see he was far from completely penetrating me. Keith breathed heavily, like he had a job to do, and sat up a little so he could force himself further into me. I made a pained sound, but seeing him lost in the world we had created together, I knew I wanted everything he could give me, even if it hurt. He took a hold of my thighs and pulled me closer to him so he could just make one deep thrust until he was fully in me. I could feel tears in my eyes because it did hurt, and Keith looked at me with kind but heavy eyes. 

“It feels so good, baby; you will feel it soon too… You're so tight and small and fucking Christ...” 

He pulled out slowly so he could push in just as deeply again, and now I could finally feel pleasure, and I moaned freely. He pushed me back a bit more, and he stood up fully on his knees so I could see his deep thrusts. Both of us flushed pink, and his cock’s veins were so prominent it looked like they could burst. I couldn't understand how something so big had been able to push into me, but maybe it was because of our shared juices. I had never seen myself so wet, but I had never heard myself doing those sorts of sounds either. It hurt so good. 

“Daddy…” I whined, now fully immersed in the fantasy, and it made Keith laugh and pound me faster. Once again I called him the name, and it made him give it to me harder. When I started to feel like I was done, like I didn't have energy for more, he flipped me around. He forced me up on my knees so he could stand on his knees and penetrate me from behind. When he once again started to thrust so hard I was just mush under him, he spanked me but also dragged his thumb over my asshole. I didn't think about it then, that he maybe had a fixation, but when he pulled out to come, he pushed his cock against my second hole and smeared me in his sticky mess. 

I'm a good girl gone bad.

Get in that car, drive fast.

Get on the road.

Take off my clothes…

×

[everestgale]

For the character ask game how about Hero

...This was my immediate reaction when I received your ask. You might be able to see why in just a moment-

[Send Me a Character and I'll List Ask Game]

favorite thing about them

Where do I even begin with this bird? He is our voice of reason amidst the chaos and horror, our right-hand man in all the trials and tribulations, our conscience in all the decisions. Our loyal best friend who is there with us since the beginning-

There is something very beautiful about how encouraging, enthusiastic, and generally lovely Hero is, how he wants to do "the right thing", whatever "the right thing" is… but he doesn’t know what or how he should do it. He voices his opinion throughout the game, often disagrees with you and other voices, but he never insists on it, and in so many instances (like the Nightmare route, when he asks Paranoid to tell them who to trust), he reads to me as self-doubting, as someone who doesn't believe in himself and his own decisions and instead chooses to put his trust into the Long Quiet, into you. It feels very human… Though perhaps I'm projecting because I'm a very self-doubting, indecisive person myself.

…which makes it all the more triumphant and sweeter when in the final fight with the Shifting Mound, if you insist on trying to fight her on your own, Hero, for the first and only time in the game, defies you:

''I can do this out here on my own.'' "You can't, and lucky for you, I'm not going to let you try."

For the first time, Hero knows what the right thing is, he knows what he needs to do to help you against the Shifting Mound. And so even if you as the Long Quiet don't realize it yet… he does.

I love the fact that we actually get to see him grow. He chooses to go directly against your decision... precisely because he is your right-hand man, your best friend, he wants you to succeed, and he wants to help. And for the first time, he confidently goes with his decision because he knows what to do... and even that one decision is made to help you.

Can you tell I'm very normal about Hero? I love Hero. Hero my beloved-

[Rest of the post is under the cut, it's getting too long]

least favorite thing about them

…I am trying very hard to think of something that I dislike about him. I can't think of a single thing.

favorite line

…I also could not just choose one line. Sorry not sorry:

"Whatever you're trying to do right now, you don't have to do it alone."

"Okay. If this is your choice, then I have your back. I guess I'll see you on the other side."

"Oh, is it now? I hadn't noticed! Do you need a primer, Mr. Amnesiac?"

"I would like to look at a bird. … But if we look at a bird now we wouldn't have to be here."

"Enough with the 'you's! Whether you like it or not, you're a part of us. Hell, whether I like it or not, you're a part of us. That was your moment, too, and we can have another if we all work together. She's not your perfect goddess. Just look at what she's doing to you, her most loyal servant!"

"Is it gonna be enough, though? Couldn't you have given us something else? Something, I don't know, better than a knife? Can we have a bomb?"

brOTP

I don't know if I have a specific brOTP for Hero, I kind of think that he generally gets along with (most) other voices. In fact, here's what I wrote on him like two months ago:

"The most normal among the voices, quite literally the voice of reason in all the chaos that the other ten cause. He is fairly respected by all of them, though that does not make him immune from their shenanigans. When he’s not busy getting out of Contrarian’s pranks or trying to break up yet another fight between Stubborn and Cheated, he tries to be helpful around the Construct and often offers support to the other voices. Generally, Hero is kind to and understanding of the other voices (even the more annoying ones), though he can also be snarky and rough if other voices really get on his nerves."

…so I guess the answer is all of them?

OTP

...it's ParaHero. Yep, no need to elaborate more /j

Serious answer: I've loved their dynamic from the very beginning - one of my first ever fanart pieces was a storyboard where Paranoid teaches the survival mantra to Hero. It was, and still is, one of my favorite moments in the entire game... I just never realized that people shipped voices together and that it was allowed. Well, thanks to @/neverpathia and his random fic from like 3 months ago, I realized that their dynamic works very well as a platonic-romantic relationship... and so here I am, a QPR-ParaHero shipper after all of that-

To not drag this point for too long, I just really like how the relationship between Hero and Paranoid plays out whenever these two are together. There's a certain degree of... comfort, I suppose, between them, like they've known each other for years and years before. It's weird to put it like that since they're all disembodied voices that are part of the same God, but the way their interactions are written just feels personal. Oh, I wish I had words to actually describe my thought process, but I don't 😭

...Though their lighthearted banter and bickering throughout multiple routes definitely help me like the ship even more. I'm a big sicker for friendly banter.

I'll leave this answer with the dialogue between them that I rotate in my brain too much:

"Oh, you snake. There wasn't even a door when we first got here. The door was from last time! I told you we shouldn't trust him!" "I know he's messing with us, but you can't lose your cool. We need you right now, remember?" "Yes. I remember. Of course I remember. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. This is so frustrating! Heart..." "Thank you."

nOTP

Despite my love for ParaHero, I'm very open to other Hero ships too, so I don't think I really have a nOTP! The closest would probably ContraHero… but that's entirely Contrarian's fault, my guy just refuses to be in a relationship (the closest he's got is ContraStranger, but even that's less of a committed relationship and more reconciliation). I really like how other people write and draw ContraHero!! It's just that, once again, my interpretations make the ship impossible with my lads 😔

random headcanon

This is entirely 100% unrooted in anything canon... but I like the idea of writer Hero. I don't know where I first got that idea, but I really like it, almost as a weird parallel to the Narrator. Again though, completely not rooted in anything from the actual game, pure ✨vibes ✨, and vibes alone.

unpopular opinion

I honestly struggled to even really think of an unpopular opinion about Hero, beyond "he's the most boring one" (which, as you can tell by how much I wrote about him, is not an opinion I hold). Sooooo, yeah, no unpopular opinions on him lol

song i associate with them

(insert obligatory "I Need a Hero" joke here)

I've actually got two (not surprising at this point). The first is "Last Words" by CircusP, which is here based solely on vibes.

"What beauty may lie beyond these walls?"

The second is "Two Roads" by Janani K. Jha! This one is kind of hard to explain... but it just makes sense in my brain:

"'Cause I've built my life around the thought of landmines in the ground, Terrified to take a step, even more to make a sound But now I am there, So send me a prayer"

"For everything I said I never wanted When I tried to make myself believe That I could pirate paradise from paintings, I look ahead now, all that I can see: Two roads"

favorite picture of them

So, for context, if you didn't know, @/lavb-b made a drawing for me of my human Hero design. I love it dearly, and it's literally my profile picture on Discord (as you can see in these screenshots). So yeah, there isn't any better picture to put as my favorite for Hero. You can find Lav's post that has it here :]

Please do check it out, it's very pretty...

…Okay, that was a lot of rambling, I'm NOT going to write as much on the next a- sees it's Paranoid …oh no.

[dank-noodlez]

Omg...

You guys...

At the start of episode 41, when Stein is trying to find his way out of the Madness, the FIRST thing he says is "Marie". LITERALLY THE FIRST THING THAT COMES OUT OF HIS MOUTH.

Let's not forget how HORRIFIED he looked when he saw Marie on the edge of his roof, about to jump off. He yells her name and rushes up there to her. He did NOT want her to die.

The scene where he's strapped to the table, about to be cut open by Spirit? He did not say "let me go", "what are you going to do to me?", or "don't do this".

No.

He instead asks Spirit, "What happened to Marie?"

All of his questions and concerns about his own safety come AFTER Marie. It's such a subtle detail, but I absolutely love it.

When he's talking to his younger self about "the place he's supposed to be"? Here's the exact dialogue of their interaction:

"Weren't you satisfied with your life?"

"Yes, I was. Even in a world governed by morality, I made it a long time without feeling guilt. But now..."

"But now what? You finally feel guilt, but you don't understand why. Because of instead fulfilling your own desires, you found something more important. You already know the right choice. You just have to make it."

And then the screen flashes to pictures of Spirit, Marie, his students... basically the academy.

Stein CARES about his students, Marie, Spirit, and the rest. They became important to him.

He desperately wants to be a good guy. He wants to have a purpose. He now found these more important things other than his own hedonistic desires that he's able to feel guilt. That he's able to love.

Now, let's fast-forward to episode 45, where Crona and Marie find Medusa to save Stein. Stein complains about the static and wants to destroy it. Medusa encourages him to. But Marie? She tells him, "There's no need to fix anything. Or destroy it, either. Just accept it as part of you."

The noise stops.

She's literally telling him that there's no need for him to change, that it's okay to be himself. She knows that he's a good man despite his Madness, his flaws, his mistakes, his history, and his obsession with dissection.

"Now try. Try very hard to picture it—the place you're supposed to be. I know you can do it if you try."

When she brings him out of his Madness, he says her name so... tenderly, as if it held every single emotion he feels for her and everything he wishes to say to her but can't bring himself to.

He lets her embrace him. He lets his head fall on her shoulder. He allows himself to be vulnerable with her.

She tells him, "Welcome back, Stein. You're home." But they're not at the laboratory. No, no, no. They're still in Medusa's lair. So, do you know what THAT means?

Marie.

MARIE is his home.

And Maka's face as she watches them... She looks so dumbfounded. Like she can't believe what she's seeing. That girl is BLINKING at them with an open mouth.

Anyway, the whole point of this is that Stein cares a lot and that he's so much more than his Madness. He's not some emotionless monster who doesn't give a fuck about anyone but himself. He has come to care for others more than he cares for himself.

He wants his students to reach their full potential. He worries if Marie is alive and okay.

If he didn't care about the academy at all, then he wouldn't be teaching. Then he wouldn't be fighting on the side of Order. Then he wouldn't have held Marie's hand while she was crying and in distress during BREW. Then Marie wouldn't be the first person he thinks about during his Madness episodes. Period.

He and some others like to claim that he is incapable of love, but the love is written all over him, and he barely realizes it.

It's not even just about Stein and Marie's relationship; it applies to everyone who is in his daily life.

There are a lot more examples in both the anime and the manga... but I've written enough.

I'm not sure if this is unorganized or all over the place, but I tried to make it chronological.

Thanks for reading.

[sunny374940]

Author Ask Tag

Thank you @sorrowsfallallaround for thinking of me 💖 (also wdym you already wrote a book! I never realized. You're so cool! I'm mutuals with a published author, what the hell, the honor ). Also your new book is gonna be really awesome from the bits I've seen💖

What is the main lesson of your story?

Dang. A hard question right at the start. Love, I guess? Taking love, even though you didn't expect to find it and just holding onto it, helping it grow.

What did you use as inspiration for your world building?

Ha, well, this one's easier at least. Dragon Age games, 'cause we are deep in fanfic land.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help them grow as a person?

Hmm. Rook is trying to just... have a nice life with his family. He never thought he would get to have this, yet here he is, with a husband and kids (one's a little bony, but that's fine) and he's loving every second of it. What am I trying to achieve with him? Oof. Show that there is love, whatever that might mean to you, if you are willing to take it. (Also I am having fun putting him in situations to satisfy the itch in my brain.)

How many chapter is your story going to have?

The one I'm working on right now (Alone with you, the honeymoon one) seems to be growing still, but since every chapter is centered about a single day of their adventures, I guess seven? (It was supposed to be a one shot. What the hell)

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

It's fanfic. I'm posting them on ao3 and tumblr, though tumblr is probably going to just have links to ao3 from now on, since the stories keep getting longer.

When did you start writing?

Well, I used to like the creative writing assingments we'd do in high school, but then college happened and writing stopped completely. (It's been many years) And then I played Veilguard and I was POSSESSED with the need to create. Like extremely possessed, I hardly slept in December and was just writing writing writing. And there seems to be no end to it. It's awesome.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?

Write what you want to read, really. @sorrowsfallallaround you said it so well, there's not much to add. If your heart's not in it because you're writing things to be pretty instead of true to you, then the words will fall flat.

Tagging @lavender-tea-fling, @starfleetteddybear, @spinfins, @mercars-musings, @redheadsramblings because I am nosy as always :D

[sepdet]

I guess we know what all those phone calls with Netanyahu were about now, eh?

... sorry to beat a dead horse, but I'm still so frustrated US voters fell for this, again, with so many lives at stake.

Trump learned this ploy from Reagan in 1980, who secretly promised Iran a better deal if they delayed releasing the hostages Carter was negotiating for to make him look bad during the election.

Palestinians did not want Trump to be elected — after all, his moving the US embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem is a major factor in starting the current conflict.

Islamophobia was a cornerstone of Trump's 2016 campaign; his first act as president was to ban Muslims from entering the US and, ominously, set up a framework for a Muslim registry, although protests and legal challenges stopped him. But he started by adapting Nazi measures against Muslims.

This time, he repeatedly said during his campaign the US should let Israel "finish the job," criticizing Biden for delaying arms shipments, and blasting Harris for her critique of Israel during her private meeting with N after avoiding his speech to Congress.

When Colbert asked Harris how close ceasefire negotiations were, she said it didn't matter: they thought they'd gotten there several times, but almost wasn't good enough.

But with Trump undermining them— it did matter. Because he's encouraging more genocide.

I don't know how much a President Kamala Harris who "would not be silent" about the humanitarian crisis would actually do to help, other than the US' inadequate aid program which Trump will almost certainly end, but she would not do this.

So what the fuck can we do now?

I wish I knew.

Write letters to our reps... It can't hurt...demanding the ceasefire be honored or aid to Israel stopped?

Insist humanitarian aid to Palestinians be increased, not cut?

And of course, keep sifting through all the heartbreaking requests for aid and chipping in— there's so, so many starfish on this beach.

Only day 5 into Trump's term, and we're already at Nazi salutes at the presidential podium and ethnic cleansing. Still no word on when those lower grocery & gas prices are supposed to drop. 😒

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[elaynetrakand]

I know I'm out of step with most of my fellow Al*cent supporters on this, but idk, I just think it took a lot of gall to tell the son whom she pushed onto a throne he never asked for, and who's still grieving his own son who was murdered because of it, that he doesn't know about sacrifice.

[just-some-random-blogger]

JSJSSJJSJSJJS WHAT THE FUCK I WAS SO INTO IT AND IT JUST ENDS ARE YOU KIDDING ME (IM A SPOILED BRAT SORRY) WTF CRISTI I WAS SO SURE I WAS GONNA KEEP HATIN CREGAN AND YOU COULDNT CHANGE MY MIND BUT YOU DID MY PETTY ASS HAS BEEN CONVERTED

First of all, sorry for requoting so much aksjjsjsns I can't help it I have thoughts

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you. 

COS HES SELF AWARE I WAS SO ANGRY WHEN I READ THIS AT FIRST BUT I FEAR NOW THAT IVE READ EVERYTHING I FEAR I FEAR I FEAR IM A SIMP

[...] it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure?

MISS MAAM GOT CLOCKED SO BAD 😰😰😰😰 IM WITHERING AWAY

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, [...] you had taken it as a personal criticism.

NO COS FRONTAL LOBE DEVELOPED EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT KING???? wtF IS THIS BULLSHIT

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable.

🗣️HES🗣️SO🗣️SELF🗣️AWARE🗣️I🗣️HATE🗣️IT🗣️

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics. 

I think this was the exact part I was like well fuck I guess I like him 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 THANKS A LOT CRISTI MY HATER AGENDA IN THE FUCKING BINNNNN UHGGGHHHHHHHHHH IMAGINE LIKING A MAN THATS SO EMBARRASSING

The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was.

HSJSJSJSJSJSJ 💀💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 HE JUST KEEPS READING HER TO FILTH ITS EMBARRASSING FUCK YOU HOW WOULD YOU KNOW SHES INTROVERTED YOU BARELY SPEAK NO JUSY BECAUSE YOURE AWARE AND OBSERVANT DOESNT MEAN ANYTHING YOU KNOW WHAT I TAKE IT BACK I HATE YOU 🖕

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with.

I lied I want to have your babies

🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵SIMP WE HAVE A SIMP ON OUR HANDS

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite. 

Fuck 😭😭😭😭😭 the emotional intimacy the self awareness the ability to say you were wrong. Fuckkkkkkkk the maturity. I'm

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I WANT HIM IM SHAKING

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying. 

👏CON👏GRA👏TU👏👏FUCK👏ING👏LA👏TIONS👏YN👏YOU👏WON👏I👏HOPE👏YOU👏TREAT👏HIM👏RIGHT👏FUCK👏OFF👏HOW👏DOES👏IT👏FEEL👏TO👏LIVE👏MY👏LIFE👏

“No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.” 

Suddenly I'm on my knees

“You may call me Cregan, if you wish. [...] 

Can I call u mine

“You would be surprised.”

😬😬😬😬😬 yikes

He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you.

Ndjsjsnsnjsjsjnse and you know what I respect that. Megamind shit

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue. 

nJsjsjjsjjsjjsjsj GIGIL IM SO RKEJEJJDJJS JEJEJDJDJDJJS THERE IS NOT AN ENGLISH WORD TO DESCRIBE MY FEELINGS I WANT TO SHAKE THEM

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly.

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all. 

Nice save

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons.

Xoxo gossip girl

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

LOVEEEEEEE RICKONNNNN GIBBERISH MY BELOVED

He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan.

Who's gonna tell her

As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide.

This just in: local girl realizes her husband is, in fact, hot. Pfffft girl get up 🙄🤚

“You are far too thin still. [...]

HES TRYING TO GET ME FAT TO EAT ME

[...] Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.” 

I'm done pretending I don't want to be devoured by this man COS HE WHAT

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.” 

DONT YOU DARE COME AROUND HERE BEING EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT FOR THE BOTH OF US

You were falling in love with Cregan. 

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words. 

STOPPPPPP WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN WHAT IN THE BLUETOOTH HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW WHAT SHE WAS THINKING 🫵 WITCH

“Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.”

PFFFT THATS SO FUNNY OF HIM HES A REAL CLOWN COS HES NEVER DO IT HAHAHAH I LOVE HIM they're so siblings™

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.”

🙄🤚 man get up

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara. 

I LOVEEE THEMMMMM SIBLING CODED AHHH

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.” 

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you. 

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 RICKON MY SWEEET. NGL MY PETTY ASS WOULD BE LIKE OH YOURE GIVING ME A DIREWOLF COS I CANT HAVE A DRAGON 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 DIE

CRISTI IM UPSET IT TOOK SO LITTLE INTERNAL DIALOGUE FOR ME TO BE SWAYED BY CREGAN 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE 👎👎👎👎👎👎 WHAT ABOUT FEMINISM WHAT ABOUT FRIENDSHIP YOU ABSOLUTELY DESTROYED ME AND FOR WHATTTTTTTT

I love rickon. I imagine he smells like milk and babie and I would just have to eat him up I LOVE HIM I CANT IM GOING TO CRY CREGAN MAKE BABIES WITH ME CHALLENGE FAILED 👎👎👎👎👎👎 YET ANOTHER REASON TO HATE HIM

Spring (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Slightly less unreliable narrator (Cregan has come to his senses, reader is on the way) Mature language.

A/N: I really thought these two would get their mess sorted out in nine scenes, but I was far too optimistic. Lucky me, I had one season as backup! Also, thank you so, so much for continuing to read this series and your kind comments!

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you. 

The utter viciousness you had displayed, bringing up his dead wife, had only been a source of anger for him at first. He had thought you an evil little bitch, unafraid of exploiting weak spots to hurt him. 

Then, he had seen you with Rickon. And his world had just… Shifted. As if every piece of furniture in Winterfell had been moved exactly one inch to the left, and no one had told him, leaving him stumbling around in his own home.

You weren’t evil or jealous. Or, more likely, you were, but not because of some petty reason, it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure? But it made too much sense for him to ignore. 

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, like commenting on the number of packages and dresses you had brought from the South, you had taken it as a personal criticism. You felt unappreciated, so you lashed out and avoided him at every turn. 

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable. The northern women were considered capable because they were physically strong, able to wield bows, ride hard and long or withstand the terrible weather. 

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics. 

Cregan had never noticed before because he had never bothered to truly look at what you were doing, but your charities were to make your mother’s cause more popular with the smallfolk. He had heard your mother was doing a similar thing in the capital, delivering food to the starved population due to a blockade of the own Blacks’ making. Not that the commoners cared about the last part. They only cared about those who put food on their bellies. 

And perhaps the Queen dowager and Princess Helaena were popular in the South because of their involvement in the Septs, but you were exploiting the lack of those here. Without Septs, there were no Septas or Septons tending to the sick and poor. You were. And the North would remember, when it came time to march for your mother’s banners. 

Cregan would bet Ice that you were having tea with the northern ladies not to gain friends. The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was. It explained why the two of you were so uncomfortable with each other. You were probably entertaining the northerns to win their loyalties, knowing the combined pressure of Cregan’s oath and their wives would make his lords more eager to drop coin and men for your war. 

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with. He could already see how much security you could bring to the North, how well fed you could be during winter, if you decided to work with him and not behind him. 

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite. 

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him. He had been pushing you away without even realizing it, comparing you to Arra at every turn, without considering how that might come across to you. 

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying. 

Set in his decision, Cregan walked to your chambers. He waved off the guard’s attempt to announce him, casually strolling in. 

You were seated next to the fire, the leather-bound book you usually carried around spread over your lap. It was a heavy tome, bound in brown leather with golden engravings. It was written in High Valyrian, a language for which Cregan had little use, so he had never learned it beyond recognizing the alphabet. 

There was a striking beauty to your expression when you were at ease, the peaceful expression you wore becoming you much more than the usual frown you directed at him. Cregan found himself wondering how beautiful you must look smiling, if you looked this radiant when at peace. 

You had the sort of face to be lit up with happiness, he could already tell. His heart ached to be the one that finally coaxed it out of you.

“Princess,” Cregan calls, softly. You set your book aside, ready to get up and curtsy, but he halts you. “No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.” 

“Lord Husband.” You reply, for once not frowning. Your face remains carefully neutral, which Cregan considers a victory. He would attribute it to his remark about his ego, but it is more likely due to guilt. He will take it regardless. 

“No need for that either, much less today.” Cregan smiles at you. “You may call me Cregan, if you wish. I am here to thank you for caring for my Rickon while I was away.” 

You look far more confused than you did before. You look like you want to approach him and run at the same time, your wool gown fluttering as you squirm in place, undecided if you are approaching or not. 

“I simply did my duty, my lord.”

Cregan’s smile widens, amused by you. 

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly. Cregan fights the urge to curse, instead making a mental note. You dislike being mocked, even in jest. He wonders what sharp words you had to endure in the South to be like this, and feels a wave of pity. Dark of hair and no dragon to shield you? Perhaps that was why you were far kinder to Sara than to him. He gives a tasteful cough. Or at least, his attempt at it. 

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all. 

“He is a child.” You say, slowly.  “No person would leave a child in need.” 

“You would be surprised.” Cregan thinks of how his own mother had treated Sara when she had arrived at Winterfell, treatment that hadn’t improved when his aunt took on as the Lady of the household. His sister had only known freedom after Cregan had taken over his seat, and she was still judged by the rest of the North, even though in a much subtle manner. 

“Mmm.” Your reply is noncommittal. 

“He has been asking me lately why he doesn't have a lady mother.” Cregan attempts again. He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you. And to his amusement, it does work. You pity his son more than him, it seems because you begin to pay him more attention.  

“What did you tell him?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. It’s a surprisingly cute gesture for the unshakable princess that you are. 

“I do not know. I have not answered him.” Cregan searches for somewhere to sit, but apart from the loveseat in which you are soaking up the warmth of the fireplace, there is none. He grabs the stool by your writing area, and brings it over. 

He sits on the stool across from you, wiggling a bit with how uncomfortable it is. It feels like his knees are on his chest, by the Gods. It’s clearly meant for a shorter person. Your rooms are not made for receiving visitors, he should have thought of that earlier. You need a space to receive people that isn’t the sitting room. What if you wish to have more private conversations?

“Surely he knows she is dead?” You are too caught up in your disbelief to protest that he is rearranging your furniture. Good. 

“He does, but doesn’t quite grasp what dead means.”  Cregan is being honest. Whoever has the heart to explain to a child of two namedays what death is, is a braver man than him. 

“Perhaps you could say she is in the Seven Heavens?” Your frown comes back, but this time it isn’t angry. Instead, it’s puzzled. You are trying to help him, and it makes him fight the urge to smile. He doesn’t want you to think that he is mocking your suggestion. 

“We do not believe that here.” 

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue. 

“Just, I would like it if you saw him more often. With me. Perhaps… He has asked about you, and I am not asking you to replace her but I… He sometimes needs a more feminine touch.” 

“Of course.” You agree. And he can see in your eyes you think he might be trying to use you as a stand in for Arra, not truly believing his words, but that is alright. Cregan will show you. Or at least, he is going to do his very best attempt. 

YOU MAKE SURE there are enough pastries and hot water available before you stand up.

“I am afraid I must leave you, my ladies. But you are welcome to continue enjoying the hospitality of Winterfell.” The sitting room is filled with northern women. You have begun inviting them for tea twice a moon, trying to ensure your mother will have all the support she needs when she takes King’s Landing. 

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons. The only ones who do are the most important Houses, like the Starks or the Boltons. It means that most of your ladies are northern by birth, and not through marriage as you are. 

“This early?” Lady Mormont asks, bluntly. Her bluntness had discomfited you during your first meetings, but you have come to find it refreshing. “Princess?” She tacks on, remembering she is supposed to mind her courtesies with you. 

“This early.” You confirm, with a smile. You have planned the time of this tea with precision for this same motive, knowing it will appeal to their loyalty, but also allow you to escape the socializing. “I have a play date with my Lord Husband and little Rickon.” 

One of the ladies coos. Lady Mormont barks out a laughter. 

“Ah, to be a young woman with that many suitors.” 

“Only the very best.” You smile, and leave them to feast on the pastries. 

You make your way to Cregan’s solar at a leisure pace. The crushed velvet gown you are wearing is in a blue so pale it almost looks like the gray of House Stark. It is one of your old ones, meant to evoke House Velaryon’s colors. It fits you again, having gained a bit of weight during your time in the North. You hope it is a gown suitable for playing with a toddler. 

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

“Rickon!” You kneel by him, as he runs to be picked up. You indulge him, smelling his hair as you lift him. He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan. You hate that you cannot hate him or be indifferent any longer. The little boy has stolen your heart. 

Rickon gives you a toothy smile, his hands clumsily going to cup your face. Who can resist him? Not you. 

“I see you found each other.” Cregan leans against the door, smirking. He holds two cups. “Warm milk with honey. For the cold.”

You cannot help but smile a little. 

“Our knight in shining armor!” You tease, more for Rickon’s benefit than him. “Let us in, good Ser. So I can place my little wildling down and he can drink it.” 

Cregan laughs and moves aside to let the two of you pass. As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide. Your eyes linger on his shoulders. You have not seen him wield Ice yet, but you have seen the sword. He has to have considerable strength to do so. 

The thought is strangely thrilling. Your stomach does a somersault, but before you have time to analyze it, Rickon begins to squirm in your arms. 

“Down! Down! Doggie!” He pleads. You look to see what has caught his attention and notice that Cregan has moved the rug so it lays by the fireplace, and placed some of Rickon’s toys there, including his more favored one: A soft cotton white wolf. 

You set Rickon down and take one of the cups from Cregan. Both of you sit down on the rug as well, and watch Rickon play with his wolf, ignoring his cup of milk. You have come to learn that playing with an only child is much different than playing with your younger siblings, Rickon mostly plays alone and wants you there to show you things. 

It forces you to keep conversations with your husband, if only because the silence would be too awkward otherwise. 

“I have arranged for us to have tea when Rickon tires.” Cregan informs you, a bit stiff.

“Oh, I already had tea with the…” You start, before Cregan interrupts you. 

“You are far too thin still. Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.” 

It’s awfully thoughtful of him, and you will examine it later because your mind is still stuck on one tiny detail. One that infuriates you. 

“You are corresponding with Jace?” You ask, trying hard not to sound violent. After all, he has been very kind to you as of late, and guilt has begun to creep in for your careless words about his late wife. Not that you will apologize or anything. You intend to pretend nothing happened and be extra nice to Cregan, indulging Rickon and him on all the tea and play dates in the world. 

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.” 

“Does he think I shall never forgive him?” You ask him, baffled. Rickon begins building a tower with blocks on the rug, insisting that the two of you aid him in building Winterfell, so Cregan’s answer is delayed. As you place some blocks to make the entrance, you have time to think over his words. 

All alone in Dragonstone, Jace must be feeling as lonely as you are. Only more because he has no Cregan and Rickon to stand with him. 

What he had done was a deep betrayal in your eyes, but was it truly? You had known you would have to marry eventually, and it probably wouldn’t be a love match. Jace had done the best he could in the terrible circumstances you were in. Moved by his fear of losing another sibling, he had entrusted you to Cregan because he thought you could be happy here. Safe. 

And you were. There was no fiercest protector for you apart from your husband. After marrying him, no one had dared even to breathe the rumors of your bastardy, and he even worried about what you ate, by the Gods’ sake!

“You can hold a grudge.” Cregan says, cautiously, when Rickon is distracted by his cup of milk and begins to attempt drinking it. Usually, drinking his milk is followed by passing out, so he is careful to support him in his lap. The sight makes your chest feel oddly warm. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was bad. 

You were falling in love with Cregan. 

“Perhaps I don’t want to any longer.” You say, looking into his eyes. You are no longer speaking of Jace. 

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words. 

“Neither do I.”

SARA’S EYES, GREY and so much like his father’s, are fixed on him. Cregan tries to ignore her, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of appearing uncomfortable. But before the hour passes, he is squirming in his chair, unnerved by her silent stare. 

Sara continues to stare. Cregan refuses to speak to her. After a while, she sets down the book she has taken from his shelves, a dreadfully boring account of the battles fought by the Kings of Winter, and perches her chin in her hands. 

That way, her staring is much more obvious. She is comfortably laid back in one of the armchairs he has in his solar. Cregan likes company when he works, and it’s easier to ask for her opinion if she is right there. Unfortunately, it also means she can stare at him for hours on end if she so wished.

“What?” Cregan asks, when he can’t take it any longer. He pushes away the reports about the safety of Wintertown and how prepared they are for winter, and looks up at her. She still doesn’t speak. “Sara!” 

“Apologies, brother.” By her smile, she is anything but sorry. “I just find it fascinating.” 

Cregan sighs. He doesn’t really want to bite, but if he doesn’t, Sara’s teasing will get worse and worse.

“What is fascinating?” 

“How you have managed to turn into a spineless southron in less than two moons.” Cregan can only gape at her. What is she going on about? “Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

His face grows hot, burning with embarrassment. 

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.” He mutters, under his breath, which only makes her cackle further. Both of them know that Sara would never be married off as if she were some cattle. Cregan loves her too much for it, and she is a deeply independent woman. 

“Who would advise you, then?” She asks him, brazenly. “Your sweet little wife? While she is great at wrangling lords and ladies, I doubt she has the stomach for warfare.” 

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.” At his words, Sara glares. She hates to be reminded she had not been as immune as she liked to think she was to Prince Jacaerys’ charms. “But if the worst comes to pass, I actually intend to have her hold Winterfell alongside you and Rickon.” 

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Sara approves. “Shall you march south, Rickon and I will suffice.” 

“I wish to begin teaching her, when she no longer seems willing to murder me.” 

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara. 

“She still seems to think I do not love her.” Cregan whines. 

“Because you mention Arra all the time. I have heard it’s in bad taste, but what would I know?” Sara rolls her eyes. “I am just some bastard girl.” 

“Are you simply going to complain or will you help me?” Cregan looks at her and tries giving her his best pleading look. Then, he decides to stroke her pride. “You know I always seek your council, even above other lords.” 

“Even above Lord Cerwyn?” Her mouth purses in a dubious pout. Fuck. His sister or his best friend? In the end, the choice is easy. Sara is here now, after all. 

“Of course.”

Sara positively beams. 

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.” 

“Your advice?” Cregan asks, tiredly. The Gods knew that she would talk circles around him if he let her. She was honest, but she also had a gift for courtly speech that Cregan despised. 

“Women like gifts. Or I do. And I am a woman.” Sara shrugs. “She is a Princess, of course she does too. And don’t just gift her anything.” 

“I would never be…” That stupid, Cregan wishes to add, but Sara is still speaking. 

“Gift her something special. Something unique, tailored to her. And especially, something that you wouldn’t gift practical Arra.” 

Cregan stares at Sara. Sara stares back. Then, very pointedly, she picks up her book and continues to read. The message is clear. He will not get any further help. 

Still, her advice lingers. In the coming days, Cregan cannot shake the thought, regardless of what he is doing. As he inspects his men, as he reads during his spare time, even as he bathes. All Cregan thinks of is you, and a gift that would please you. 

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you. 

He discards many more ideas, from rolls of myrish lace to donations to your charities. You ran far too cold to wear the former, and the latter wouldn’t truly be a gift to you. He wastes nearly a week coming up with a suitable idea, and two more corresponding with the Prince, the Maester at Dragonstone, and securing the goods he needs. 

It’s all worth it, when he takes a look at the finished present and can know that you will love it.