#and all the apprehension and disgust would unravel and turn out to be fear

[typinggently]

Some straight man in the youtube comments of a Punisher (2017-2019) scene might point out that the fact that Billy helps Frank up, tells him he loves him and punches him right after could be foreshadowing. Me, bi, who's had crushes before, however -

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Just some general angst

I mean, it’s kind of ‘fluffy’ angst because it has a happy ending and it isn’t CRESTWOOD, but still angst. 

Enjoy a concept of Fane’s vallaslin removal. (I’m writing a follow up with smut, so shhhh!) I told you there would be tears, @oxygenforthewicked! I supplied them, even if I was somewhat tearing up the whole time writing this! 

***

“Sit down, vhenan.”, Solas directed Fane gently, holding his face between his hands with a tenderness he had long thought was wasted on him. “Let me free you from these shackles you should never have known.” Two thumbs ghosted along the high points of his cheekbones before they flicked up to trace his vallaslin - his shackles.

Fane let his eyes flutter shut at the feather light touch, reveling in the feeling of safety and warmth it gave him. He became literal putty in this man’s hands - melting, molding, and melding until their souls felt as if they were intertwined like a beautifully tied knot. To anyone else, that may seem like slavery, like the very inked bonds upon his face, but it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. This was a promise, a devotion that ran so deep he no longer knew where one end began and another ended. 

This was a vow plated in gold so, so long ago. A vow that had been shattered, forgotten, and then reforged anew with emerald fire and blue water. It would never be sundered again. Never.

Fane took a deep breath, opening his eyes slowly to see a pair of stormy blue gazing at him patiently, lovingly. The gorgeous array of blue, grey, indigo, and hints of lavender were waiting for him, but not rushing him. They housed eternity, and a sky he had turned his back on for too long. They would never end, never go completely grey. Not as long as he breathed. Not as long as he endured.  

Fane paused in his thoughts as he stared ever deeper into Solas’s eyes, watching as quiet indigo sparked within steely blue. That spark made a similar spark within his chest ignite, slamming his prior, old thoughts into the ground. No, he didn’t just endure this world, or the ignorant people within it. He didn’t just observe how that ignorance did not paint everything without feeling this same spark in his soul, or fostered guilt when otherwise there had been none. He knew more now, he knew better now. 

He lived, and everything they had been through; the tears, the triumphant victories, the soul crushing anguish, the seemingly uncrossable rifts, and the madness of a world so desperately crying for help, proved he was alive and had a place in it.

A place, but a place without being bound and shackled with chains that had always threateningly rattled in the back of his mind even when he had not known the truth. 

“I’m ready.”, Fane said after a few moments, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. Their eyes connected without hesitation, without reservation, and he couldn’t help a tiny smile from forming despite his inner trepidation. “Take the vallaslin away. Free me from this nightmare I unknowingly walked into due to forgetfulness and my own ignorance.”, he pleaded with a desperation he hadn’t known was still lying dormant within him. 

Solas’s eyes softened further at his words, the grey within swirling with age old sorrow and guilt before they shut themselves slowly. He momentarily mourned the loss of those eternity bearing eyes. He had never realized just how much he had missed them until he had realized who they belonged to once again. 

They sat in silence amid the moonlit grass and the starry bathed canopy of trees that shielded them from the world outside of this forested refuge they had found after their flight from Skyhold, from the Inquisition. Fane’s eyes idly roamed the expanse as he waited for Solas, offering the elf resting against him the same amount of time that he had offered him. He watched the quiet bobbing of fireflies as they wove up and under each other in a seemingly ritualistic dance of their own. Their gently ebbing glow lightly bringing a golden sheen to the pale green grass every time they hovered along it. 

I wonder, will my eyes look the same when the ink is taken away? Fane found himself thinking as he watched the grass take on a more verdant hue. Once upon a time, the thought of seeing his eyes in their full glory terrified him, disgusted him to the point where he’d shatter glass without fear of slicing into his fist. But now, he yearned, painfully yearned, to see them ebb and flow like the fireflies did with so much whimsical abandon. 

Fane let his gaze travel away from the dancing dopplegangers of his eyes to look upwards. The moon was out in its full glory this starry eve, bathing the world in white ivory and pale yellow. It was such a beautiful contrast to the twinkling, but dark sky that was its home. He felt his eyes go hooded as another thought flickered into his mind without a preamble.

So white. Like new fallen snow. Will my face be as glowing as ivory? Will I be unscarred, and untouched as if I had just awoken once again? As if I still had my scales? Will I be able to see every freckle and birthmark that I couldn’t, or rather, wouldn’t before? 

These questions permeated his mind like the scent of steaming water - invigorating and freeing. How far he had come. To being repulsed with his own reflection, thinking it looked so much like a monster’s he now knew he had no connection to, to desiring to see it and to never look away.

To never look away. The thought made him smile a bit more as he watched a shooting star soar across the blue-black backdrop of the night sky. Yes, he would never look away again. Not for fear or indifference. He would keep his gaze skyward as the world reflected him in two forms. 

One form would be as itself - ever reaching and boundless. And the other form..

..would be his sky - flesh and bone with a spirit so bright that he couldn’t look away even if he tried.

Fane slowly drew his gaze away from the sky above, giving it a silent nod in acknowledgment before looking at his very own expanse of eternity, who had reopened their eyes to watch him with a tender smile and a wealth of adoration. He had to clear his throat a bit as embarrassment at being watched so closely had his ears heating up a bit. Okay, maybe he would look away sometimes, but not often.

“Something interesting?”, Fane grumbled with a tiny frown, shifting his gaze back and forth between Solas and the ground below. Damn, he was getting flustered so easily now that it was just the two of them. It was refreshing to be able to indulge without constant stares, but he was still getting used to vulnerability.

Solas let out a quiet chuckle before shifting closer to him. Fane felt himself stiffen a bit as their knees brushed together, his scars jumping in protest before he forced them to relax. No, now wasn’t the time for his body to ruin things. He had accepted the pain of his body, and he would live with it. 

Live. Such a freeing word. Yes, he would live. Live, live, and live. The word made him feel light like he could fly once again.

“I am merely curious as to your conversation with the sky.”, Solas said after a few moments, voice light and soft instead of guarded and measured. It would see he wasn’t the only one to have changed with their disbandment. It was...nice, even if Fane knew they both held guilt and dread of years to come in their hearts.

Fane let out a quiet scoff, turning his gaze back to give Solas a withering glare. “I wasn’t talking to the sky.”, he said. Okay, maybe he was a little bit, but the elf didn’t need to know that.

“Mm-hm. The illumination of gold told me otherwise.”

“Do you ever stop talking? Like seriously?”

“I believe you said you enjoyed our discussions.”, the Elvhen mage quipped back with amusement, eyes surprisingly bright for once.

Fane let out a tiny growl. “Only when you aren’t being full of yourself.”

“I thought I was only asking a question. You like curiosity, correct?”

“I swear to anything that’s fucking holy, Solas...”, he warned, leveling the man with a dangerous glare that he knew wouldn’t make the other shrivel up, but he did it anyway. Force of habit.

Solas only raised an eyebrow at him, one side of his face bathed in moonlight to where many of his already sharp features appeared sharper, while the other was shrouded in gentle shadows, making those same sharp features soften as if melding with the darkness. There was a tiny knowing smirk upon his lips, stormy eyes twinkling like the stars above with mirth and tenderness, but still a form of apprehension towards what they were about to do. 

Fane’s embarrassment and grumpiness trickled away at that hint of hesitation in deep blue. He let out a quiet sigh, calming himself of his agitation before reaching down to take a hold of Solas’s hands, which had been resting on his lap as if awaiting his command and consent. Immediately, the mage’s fingers entwined with his own, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. He let out a tiny laugh before shaking his head at that. He should have known. Leave it to this fool to worry. All the taunting and all the teasing was just Solas’s way of trying to filter that emotion out. He was starting to think that’s all his sky could manage some days.

“I’ll be fine, Solas.”, Fane said, gently tugging on their joined hands to coax Solas closer. He would be lying if he didn’t feel a smidge of anxiety towards the removal, but that was only because of the fact that he may potentially get sick. Sensitivities didn’t just go away within a year when they had been festering for ten, but it was no matter. He wanted this, and he would have it.

Solas let out a quiet sigh of his own, easily coming closer to press their foreheads together again. “I know, but the last time such magic had been so close to your mind, you--”, he trailed off, softened features hardening with painful memories.

Fane shook his head firmly, even though they were connected. “Stop. I’ll be fine.”, he reaffirmed before unraveling one of their hands to place it upon the back of Solas’s neck. “I can endure any amount of discomfort.”

“That you can. However, that does not mean I like that you must, ma’isenatha.”, Solas told him, reaching up with his own freed hand to cup his cheek reverently. “I would prefer you knew no pain.”

He rolled his eyes a bit at that before sighing gently. “You know that’s a hazy dream, Solas. Pain is a part of life. It’s embedded in the path we tread, and the one before.”, he stated before leaning in closer, brushing their lips together to whisper against them. “But so is love, and I’ll endure anything, anything, if it means that that’s what’s waiting for us in the end.”

Solas chuckled, lips curling into a smile against his own. “Such optimism. Are you sure I am the one dreaming?”, he teased.

“Maybe.”, Fane said with a light shrug before giving the lips against his a light peck. “But dreams are nice, aren’t they?”

“They are, indeed.”

“Then let’s make one seemingly unreachable dream a reality. Let’s make the world a little less grey. Let me be free.”, he offered before continuing with more determination. “So, please, free me, Fen’harel. Let me be your dragon again. Not the..”, he trailed off, motioning to his own face. “...Not the ones who enslaved me in the first place.”, he finished, huffing a breath out through his nose as an ember of anger tried to break through. He wasn’t going to get angry during this. Not this time. He wouldn’t let his creeping insanity spoil this one happy moment. 

He pulled away slowly with those words, watching as Solas’s pupils widened and then narrowed from the change in light. He had to smile a bit at that. Eyes were windows indeed, and how he loved the ones shining back at him with equal emotions of wonder, adoration, and tempered grief.

He loved the sky, and all it offered.

Solas watched him closely, steely eyes boring holes into him before a tender, but slightly sorrowful smile graced his lips. Fane felt his own widen a bit more at that, the muscles straining slightly, but he willed them to obey. It was time, he knew. 

It was time for him to be freed from the leash that ensnared him.

“You will tell me if anything is beyond bearing, understand?”, Solas said with a stern expression, his softness and unguarded smile gone to harbor seriousness. “I know this is something you desire fiercely, vhenan, but I will not put you in jeopardy if I see agony in your eyes.”

Fane felt his own face fall and harden with seriousness as he nodded once. “I understand.”, he said, even as minor irritation made him want to growl. He knew Solas was just being caring, but he wanted this more than anything right now. He wanted to see himself without a mask hiding him.

“Very well.”, Solas said before reaching up gingerly to delicately cup his face, his hands cool despite the warmth of blood rushing through them. “Take a deep breath, but do not hold it.”, he instructed.

Fane let out a tiny snort. “I know how to breathe, you ass.”

He watched with a tiny spark of mirth as Solas gave him an exasperated glare. That only made him give the other a tiny shrug before a tiny smirk broke his serious mask.

“That’s what you get for being full of yourself.”, Fane said with the same smirk, trying to ease the tension that had settled in the air around them. As much as he knew this was a serious situation, it didn’t have to be. This was a moment, and he wanted it to be light.

My, how he’s changed, hm? Who would have seen this day? Not him.

“You are insufferable.”, Solas said flatly before shifting closer, face relaxing a tiny bit. 

“You love it. Don’t lie because I can see it.”

A deep chuckle had a shiver running down Fane’s back as Solas came closer, holding his face all the while. Ohh, he had forgotten the other could make that sound. A sound that reminded him of his kin. That was a dangerous sound. 

“And I can see you love me being an ‘ass’.”, the mage shot back, the area around them beginning to glow a calming blue. “Or is it more you love my ass? I seem to recall you stating something along those lines.”

Fane grimaced slightly despite their banter, the smell of mild ozone making his mouth water with the want to expel, but he swallowed around it. “Ngh.. Shut it.. mgh..”, he said between quiet grunts. 

“Breathe, Fane. Listen to me.”, Solas gently instructed, dropping their back and forth immediately upon signs of his discomfort. “Focus on my eyes, block out all your other senses. Use your abilities, if you must, and tell me what you see.”

Fane swallowed around some rising bile, his body beginning to tremble slightly and sweat lightly as more magic was gently brushed along his face like a thin sheet. Focus on...Solas’s eyes? He wanted him to...observe him right now? Why? As a distraction maybe? Well, if it would get him through this then he’d give it go.

“I...ngh..!”, he grunted out harshly before he could even try to do what was instructed of him, feeling how the ink upon his face pulled like a bandage was slowly being peeled away. “D..Damn..”, he cursed, reaching out blindly, as his vision was blurring with pained tears, to wrap his arms around Solas’s waist. 

Ugh, how this hurt! Solas had stated it wasn’t supposed to be painful, but maybe this was just his body’s doing. It was so sensitive to magic that it spurned even the most gentle spells? How typical!

“Shh, ma’isenatha. You are doing fine.”, Solas murmured to him soothingly, easily coming closer when he pulled with insistence. “Tell me to stop and I shall.”, he offered a way out, even as methodical hands continued to work their magical cleanse. 

Fane shook his head lightly, merely tightening his hold around the mage’s waist with a gasping breath. “I..It’s fine. I..I’m fine..”, he managed to get out before blinking away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes to meet Solas’s worried, but proud ones. That nearly had Fane wanting to cry openly. Such pride. For him. He couldn’t take it, but he wanted to!

“Are you--?”, Solas began to ask, but Fane cut him off with a deep growl.

“I want this. N..No matter the agony.”, he snarled out as another wave of nauseous had him nearly ripping his head away to puke onto the pure, moonlit ground. Yes, he wanted this! He wanted this! For the first time in his life, he would proudly soak in all this pain if it meant he could be free to live!

Through his own tears and slightly blackening vision, Fane swore, for just a moment, he could see a line of dampness reflected back at him from the sky watching him. He swore he saw rain clouds beginning to roll in hues of purple-grey and deep blue. He swore he could feel droplets kiss his cheeks as the sky closed him to meet him.  

He swore Solas was crying. 

At that, gold tinted his vision, obscuring it more with its gentle brightness before it ebbed away to signify his eyes had swapped colors from emerald to gold. He watched as Solas’s whole visage nearly crumbled with more pride and more grief built love, the hands upon his face trembling for a moment to where magic washed through his it with renewed vigor. Fane bit down on his cheek, willing his eyes to stay open despite how they wished to close from the sudden surge of hot pain that bit into it. There was no turning back, no matter what Solas saw! 

With a shaky, tense movement, Fane reached up to cup Solas’s face with his hands, brushing away a few errant tears that had miraculously escaped from the stormy clouds harboring them. A sensation of warmth and relief washed through his sweating body as his earlier observation was confirmed.

“You’re crying..”, Fane murmured, stroking the mage’s damp cheeks with clumsy movements. “You’re crying with so much love within blue. Adoration with indigo. Devotion within grey. Pride within lavender.”, he rattled off each emotion as his draconic nature burst forward, wishing to soak in and freely observe every last morsel given to him. “And they..ngh..all swirl together..to make eternity.”

Solas’s expression only twisted with a sorrowful, but yet, happy smile as the aura around them brightened another fraction. There were no words, no comments, no distracting banter. His sky was watching him, just as Fane watched it. He let out a slightly choked sound, taking a deep breath as he felt more of his skin tug and unwind. It was almost over. It had to be! Almost, almost, almost!

It was warm. It was cold. It was stinging. It was soothing. It was grey. It was blue. It was eternity. It was the end. The ritual was all of these things, all of them, and he could feel how his body tingled and shook with them rather than pain. 

Come on. Come on. Come on! Fane’s mind roared like the dragon within his soul as impatience began to rear its head. They were nearly there! Nearly! The tugging was becoming less in certain places, the sting left behind no more than a memory!

Suddenly, upon those thoughts, as Fane thought he was about to pass out from how much he was gasping and sweating, it was over. No contradictory sensations. No tang of ozone tickling his nostrils. There was stillness, and silence, apart from both he and Solas’s gasping. 

The blue aura dissipated, his vision clearing to allow delicate moonlight and glowing fireflies to grace it once more, and most of all, there was no more pain, no more sharpness. 

There was only light and freedom soaking into his soul much like how the sweat upon his brow was. 

“Ane vasreëm, ma’isenatha.”, Solas’s voice pushed through the euphoria and residual pain, eyes swimming with tears, but also genuine wonder as they flitted across his face as if never having seen it before. 

Fane blinked, his mind in a haze as magic continued to slip away from his face like water on a cliffside. He was...free? He was free… He was free! He was free!

“I’m..”, Fane began to say as unrestrained jubilation coursed through his body, but soon after, a sudden rush of dizziness had the world spinning before him. “I’m..”, he tried again, but couldn’t continue as he felt the world rush to meet him and black suddenly drowned out all the eternal colors that were widened in horror and deep concern.

“Vhenan!”

The desperate voice of Solas reached him, but he was unable to respond as his body met the ground behind him. However, he knew he would be okay. He just needed to nap. Just a small one. Nothing to fret over. He’d apologize when he woke up for making his sky panic. 

I’m free. I’m free. I’m free. Those words echoed with certainty and childlike joy, even if he could not see himself as black finally followed with true silence.

***

I’m not crying. Solas is crying! I make him cry because he needs to, so yeah! I’m not fucking crying! *sniffles*

[cursedfortune]

Razor sharp are her intentions; the kiss of a knife against her fingertip - the slow drizzle of blood upon an expensive rug. She is wordless in her demands. A heavy stare through a hooded gaze and lips leveled into a thin line. Sat crookedly upon a chair, one leg draped over the other; it’s easy to mistake her as someone with a title.

How some would kill to put a leash on her in the form of a ring or a crown.

But then, how would she play these games of chance?

The Lord’s gaze is uncertain, knowing well how easily she breathed curses and blessings alike. So apprehensive and she feeds off it no differently from the leeches she kept at home. It’s good to see him so uncomfortable after what he has done to his people - and in turn, what she has so far taken from him.

People of power quickly forget how much they have to lose. An heir incubating within the Lord’s new Lady, for instance? So long as it doesn’t go beyond a certain period Mortem will consider the pound of flesh to be free game. Until she can hear its potential from within its mother’s womb.

Wealth and status are easy to target. She could ruin a reputation for the hell of it but she has yet to. Silence is her plague, the shunning his people do to the Lord already in both fear and disgust is enough. She thrives on that, too. On the lack of attention he now received.

The Lord thought it wise to play a game against a witch. First, for her affections - and then, after her rejection. How quickly do hearts turn from infatuation to resentment. How sick power makes the mind into believing one is all-knowing. Not feeling so smart are you now, my Lord?

To have a witch that could bless or curse another at will would have been a fine addition to any kingdom. As if she didn’t see through him what others in power saw when they looked at her. A threat or an asset but nothing more, save for the occasional potential woman to bed.

Mortals are all meat in the end. Ground down by her hands, if need be. Just meat and... blood. Her finger flicked it upon his doublet. Another thing lost. Like the rug, like his shirt. She’ll bleed all over anything until this room is emptied, if need be. Isn’t that what one does with witches and their tainted selves? Remove all that has been touched by one, especially through blood contact? Wasn’t that his declaration when he insisted on hunting her for sport?

Mortem was petty enough. She had the time. She liked seeing him wearing the same face as those in his kingdom when his carriage rode on by. The Lord expects worse. Something quick, a burst of consequence. But she is not here to give him what he expects, no. The long game, the maddening game of time and unraveling all that surrounded him and himself - true to the entropic being she is.

Funny how this all began because he wished to find himself wedged between her legs some years ago. Now those very limbs kicked him back into the chair he attempted to rise out of, silently demanding he remained seated. No, no. Like the ball from years ago when he first laid eyes upon her, she appeared like a fantasy. Sex incarnate wrapped up in black with engravings upon her skin that promised many tales. Now here they were, this fear laced room - a Lord already falling from his station. Now that, to her, was the same feeling he possessed those years ago. But her hands would not attempt to tear open his clothes. She need not see the shell of a man.

His undoing would be enough. Sometimes carnal desires expressed through the flesh could not satisfy watching the breaking or building of a soul. And she was here only to destroy.

[karasluthqr]

Twin Flames

As we all know, the season 14 finale of cm was an absolute disaster so I took it upon myself to write a lil fix it fic for the writers. This is how it should have happened. I hope you all like it! Enjoy!!

Spencer Reid has always had feelings for Jennifer Jareau, but he had resigned to the fact that they would never be more than just friends a long time ago. And that had been more than good enough for him. He had no desire to be in a romantic relationship with Jennifer, not in any sense of the word. He valued their friendship far more than the miniscule residual feelings he still held for her. Feelings that were locked away in one of his twelve imagined futures. Another one which stored his feelings for Derek Morgan. And one that played out the future he would’ve had with Maeve. His imagined futures were how he coped with his losses. Although he was a man who relied heavily on logic, he deviated from the, at times, faulty realism that defined him through his manufactured alternate realities.

The confession their UNSUB had forced out of JJ at gunpoint the previous day had left the doctor feeling shocked and even more confused. He replayed her words over and over in his mind.

“Spence, I-um-I’ve always loved you. And I was just too scared to say it before. And now things are just really too complicated to say it now.”

He couldn’t make sense of it. He analyzed every hesitation and hitch in her tone, every pause and avoidance of eye contact. He searched his memory desperately for clues that would lead him to some sort of reasonable explanation for the whimsical confession of love she had given, but he came up empty.

There were never any indications of JJ having such feelings for him. She brought Garcia on their “date” to the Redskins game fourteen years ago, and ever since, the two of them had fallen into a older sister-younger brother sort of rhythm. When Jennifer met Will, she didn’t give a glance in his direction nor did she express any hesitations to him. Spencer was the godfather of her sons! He and JJ; they were best friends. They looked out for each other. They loved each other, yes, but they didn’t love each other.

Spencer’s ability to remember every interaction he’d ever shared with someone rarely failed him, and Jennifer Jareau wasn’t fooling him this time. She’s always loved him? No, it wasn’t plausible.

_________________

Spencer was no longer listening to the conversation between Garcia, Tara, and Luke. He must’ve tuned out sometime after agreeing to dance with Penelope later on. His eyes were trained on JJ, studying her movements, facial expressions, and behavioral cues. Will was glued to her side as the couple made conversation with Matt and Kristy. Nothing in particular stood out to Spencer as peculiar other than JJ’s tense posture and the stiff grin she had plastered onto her face. But Spencer knew those observations could just as well be because of the awkward situation her confession had created as much as it could be about the confession possibly holding some truth.

His brow quirked with interest when Emily walked in, passing Matt and Kristy without so much as an acknowledgement and made a beeline to JJ. The smile that lit JJ’s face as Emily entered her line of sight triggered the profiler within him. He adjusted his slumped posture, straightening out his back. The wide grin that wore Jennifer’s face was the first genuine smile he’d seen from his friend since the consternation fueling events of the day before. Reid’s eyes narrowed in analyzation, determined to uncover the truth of JJ’s truth.

_________________

Spencer was unable to stave off the need he felt to watch JJ throughout the wedding ceremony. He picked up on the way JJ’s eyes followed Emily’s every move as she gave her toast, only looking away from their friend when she felt Will squeeze her hand at Emily’s mention of David and Krystall being “twin flames”. The look of, what could only be described as, shame that crossed her features as she forced a weak smile at her husband, only served to further peak Spencer’s interest.

Jennifer looked up, her stormy blue eyes meeting his gaze, and the unmistakable guilt clouding them caused his heart to constrict. Only on a few occasions had Spencer been able to read Jennifer so clearly, so few he could probably recount all of them in less than a minute’s time. He may know her tell, but JJ was the master of masks. She had one for almost every occasion. A mother mask, a wife mask, a work mask, a social gathering mask, etc. Underneath all of those masks, hid Jennifer Jareau, and only a select few had the pleasure to know her.

_________________

Spencer was beginning to unravel Jennifer’s secret and the blonde agent could tell. The scrutinizing gaze she was under was unnerving and caused her skin to crawl. It felt as though Spencer was staring straight into her soul, undressing the emotions she’s been keeping micromanaged for over a decade. Having to keep her feelings for Emily undetectable to Reid’s perspicacious mind all these years had been one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do. He was the one she told everything to, but this one thing, she just couldn’t. Not even when her life was being threatened. It was too big, too risky. Jennifer had so much to lose, as did Emily. The brunette was just now settling into a real relationship with someone, and Andrew was such a great guy. She was finally moving on and finding her own happiness. JJ wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if she had ripped that away and given the older woman hope once again for something that could never happen.

So she’d lied. And she was disgusted with herself for it.

JJ didn’t know exactly where Spencer’s feelings for her stood now, but she did know that once upon a time, he had something of a crush on her. Shortly after the Redskins game, the thought had slowly faded to the back of everyone’s mind, and it wasn’t brought to the forefront until just a few months ago, during their phone conversation about “imagined futures” and the revelation that he had twelve. That’s when JJ had begun to wonder, if one of them involved her.

Jennifer selfishly took advantage of that possibility yesterday. She didn’t know if it was true or not, but something deep in her gut told her that her inkling wasn’t far off. And to save herself, her family, and Emily from the pain of a confession years too late to be told, she used it against him to save their lives. It was selfish, she knew, and her stomach churned with an overwhelming guilt every time she looked at him.

She needed to tell him she didn’t mean it.

_________________

“Can I have a water?” Spencer requested as he approached the bar. The bartender nodded and turned his back to retrieve the order, and he felt the presence of another person slide into the space next to him.

“Hey,” a certain blonde greeted, trying with a little too much effort to sound casual. “So I-I didn’t get a chance to say it back there, but thank you for saving my life.”

There it was. The first genuine thing JJ had said to him in twenty four hours, sixteen minutes and fourteen seconds.

“You’re welcome.”

The tension between the two friends was nearly suffocating. Interactions between them had never been so uncomfortable. A sadness pulled at Spencer’s heart; things weren’t supposed to be this way between them, and part of him feared that things would never be able to return to the way they were before. Change had never been Spence’s strong suit.

Spencer embodied JJ’s discomfort as if it were his own. The way she couldn’t hold eye contact with him for more than a couple seconds at a time told him that whatever Jennifer had come up to tell him was weighing heavily on her subconscious.

“You okay?” He prompted, wanting to get her talking.

“Yeah,” the older woman breathed. Although she obviously wasn’t. “But Luke was right, though. Two guns, huh?” Jennifer’s tried smile wavered insecurely as she attempted to strike up a casual conversation and act as though the lie she’d conjured up the previous day hadn’t possibly caused permanent damage to their relationship. Spencer tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her, unbelieving. “How long have you been wearing an ankle holster?”

“Around the time I got out of prison,” he answered shortly but still in his usual gentle tone. Spencer hoped she would catch on to the fact that he didn’t want to make awkward small talk; he wanted to have a conversation about what had transpired the day before.

“Right.”

Silence fell between the old friends for a painful few moments. Neither one looked at the other, only staring straight ahead and praying this mess could somehow magically fix itself.

“Look, so, um, what I said back there..” JJ broke the silence. She needed to clear the air; the tension that congested it was squeezing hers out of her lungs. “I, uh, I needed to say something that would get his attention, and I needed to say something that would get your attention, so you know, I just needed to throw him off balance-”

“Jennifer,” Spencer cut off the blonde’s ramble with the use of her full name. It was proven to be effective when needing to grab the woman’s attention.

_________________

JJ stilled. Spencer only called her ‘Jennifer’ when it was serious. Was he calling her bluff? Did he already know she lied, or did he think she actually meant it? Had she led him on like she had feared?

Apprehensive of the emotion she would find swirling around in his hazel eyes, the blonde hesitated before raising her gaze to meet his. What she saw: a challenging glare. It puzzled her; she was unable to detect any sort of emotion in his eyes. No anxiety, no guilt, no hope, no nothing. Just a challenging stare, like this whole mess of a situation was some sort of game to him.

“Truth or dare?”

The bluntness of his question momentarily startled JJ. A slight feeling of panic rose from her stomach at Spencer’s use of the question that had been spat in her face as she stared down the barrel of a gun just twenty four hours prior. She inhaled a calming breath to settle it.

As the feeling of dread began to dissipate, she noticed Spencer’s glare had eased from its previous challenge to a softer curiosity. He stared at her like she was a case, and she knew then that she hadn’t led him on. Spence wasn’t challenging her; he wanted her to tell him the truth.

He deserved to know; she knew that. She had played with his emotions in the most deceptive way yesterday. She’d already lied to him about Emily once before, and she’d nearly lost him because of it. But, this wasn’t the same thing. This would risk Will and her boys, the family she’d built over the last twelve years. This would risk Emily’s chance at finally moving on with her life and being happy with someone who was able to love her in the way that she deserved. This would risk the future of the team. Could she really risk all of that? Could she risk being responsible for the downfall of everyone she loves? Granted, it would feel so, unbelievably good to finally get her deepest, most darkest secret off of her chest, even if it was to just one person. But could she do that to Spencer? Could she trust Spence with this?

Looking into the most gentle, hazel eyes gazing into her blues with genuine concern, JJ offered him a sad smile. Of course, she could. It was Spencer.

“Truth.”

The word scratched against the dryness of her throat like sandpaper.

_________________

“Did you mean it?” His sincere question came out more like an accusation. He watched her face intently, analyzing her reaction. Jennifer didn’t say anything, but from the way her lips twitched between the slightest smile and her big, blue eyes that remained full with the look of sadness and guilt he’d observed in them since the confession, Spencer knew. She didn’t mean it. A wave of relief flooded over the younger agent. Now, he just hoped she would tell him the truth.

Spencer noticed her mouth adjust, preparing to open for speech, but before JJ could get a word out, they were interrupted by the one specific brunette that, unbeknownst to Spencer and JJ, was at the forefront of both of their minds.

Spencer Reid stood witness to the interaction that solidified his suspicion. He surveilled, with curious eyes, Emily Prentiss reach out and place her hand on JJ’s upper arm.

“Guys, they’re about to cut the cake.”

It was hard to miss. The way JJ’s shoulders dropped, releasing their tension at the older woman’s touch and how her entire face lit up with a radiant glow as she acknowledged her presence. Her blue eyes became a shade lighter and there was a noticeable sparkle to them. A sparkle he hadn’t seen in her eyes for a time that was exceeding far too long. Her gaze followed their Unit Chief as she began to walk away, the luminous smile still firm on her lips. It was very hard to miss indeed.

Spencer began to walk away. His suspicion had been confirmed, and it ran far deeper than he’d originally assessed. He no longer felt the need to pressure his friend into admitting it out loud as he now understood, it would be far too painful.

He felt a hand press firmly against his chest, pushing him back before he could get away.

“J-just,” Jennifer stuttered. Spencer retreated back to the spot he’d been standing in just a few moments before. “I-”

Spencer looked down at JJ with empathy as she pushed her blonde locks behind her ears. The distress that wracked her petite form was blatant and he understood what she was feeling all too well. He’d been there before.

“It’s okay,” he whispered earnestly to the woman before him. She had her finger curled and pressed against her lips, as if she was preventing something from tumbling out. She looked up at him, her eyes large and filled with hope for the possible relief of her secret tormentation. “Everything’s okay.”

JJ nodded.

“Yeah?” Her tone was quizzical, but he understood her hesitation. He knew how important it was for her that no one else could ever find out about what she felt for Emily. She’d risked her life, and his, with a lie to protect it. Spencer knew her questioning tone wasn’t just for him to assure her that her secret was safe with him, but that he understood how incredibly, and truly, remorseful she was for the selfish act. And he did. Because he’d done it before. When Cat Adams wanted him to admit a truth about himself that no one knew. But what she had wanted from him, it wasn’t a truth, so he’d had to lie, knowing that if he didn’t sell it, his mother would be killed. JJ was there with him the whole way. He understood.

_________________

Spencer nodded his assurance before he cleared his throat, composing himself for the verbalization of the confirmation that had just occurred.

“I know you meant what you said,” Spencer articulated, his utterance barely above a whisper. He was deliberate in making sure there was no way either of the two people standing just a few yards away would be able to overhear.

JJ’s brows drew together, a look of confusion crossing over her face. They’d just verified that she hadn’t meant it, unless some sort of severe miscommunication had just transpired.

“You just didn’t mean to say it to me.”

JJ’s heart stopped beating in her chest. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she was sure her entire face had fallen sheet white. She knew that Spence knew. It was just the verbalization of it that threw her completely off quilter.

Spencer’s gaze flickered to the brunette standing next to the southern detective, and Jennifer followed his gaze. Her eyes landed on the two people she loved most, just one in a different way than the other. And the one that she could never have.

“Spence,” JJ choked on his name as she turned her back on the ones she felt she was betraying. The mascara coated rims of her eyes began to sting as tears welled in them. She felt an unbearable need to explain herself, to explain the string of questionable decisions she’d made over the last twelve years.

“Jennifer, it’s okay,” he soothed. The shame and the guilt oozed from her pores, and an agonizing need to comfort his suffering friend rose to the surface. She stared past him with pursed lips as her right hand gripped at her upper left arm. All were signs of the blonde trying desperately to maintain her composure, so Spencer made the quick decision to change the topic. “I know how you feel.”

JJ’s eyes snapped to his, bewilderment flashing onto her previously anguished features. He could read the question in her eyes. ‘What are you talking about? Who are you talking about?’

Spencer swallowed. Like Jennifer, his confession was something he had never shared with anyone before, not even his best friend.

“You might know him,” his voice was hoarse, sounding like he’d just finished screaming at the top of his lungs at a concert. The thought almost made JJ chuckle; Spence at a concert. The reality was that it was just nerves. It was the first time he was admitting to having an attraction for men out loud. “He got married two years, eleven months and ten days ago.”

Recognition flashed in JJ’s eyes as the understanding of who Spencer was referring to settled in. Derek. She tilted her head to the side as his gaze fell to the floor. He’d spent years grappling with his sexuality and a part of him, a large part, though he hated to admit it, still harbored feelings of shame regarding his attraction towards the same sex. Little did he know, JJ felt the exact same.

Jennifer was surprised to find herself feeling somewhat blase about Spencer’s revelation. She’d never actively considered Spencer being bisexual but she’d never outwardly denied the possibility either.

JJ recognized the familiar look of shame that wore Spencer’s downward tilted face, and it dawned on her that this was likely the first time he’d ever admitted this to someone. Momentarily forgetting about her own similar, and much more dire, predicament, JJ felt a sense of pride well up in her chest for Spencer’s courage to do what she never had. And what she now couldn’t.

She reached forward, grasping Spencer’s hand in her own. He lifted his gaze to hers when he felt her hand on top of his. She gave it a tight squeeze, hoping that it would be able to convey how proud she was of him for just being himself.

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitched to form half a grin. His eyes shone with gratitude for her acceptance, although he never doubted for a second that she wouldn’t. Jennifer returned a tight lipped smile, her eyes shining with gratitude for the same yet entirely different reasons. For accepting her, but also for understanding the decision she made yesterday, and for being willing to aid in maintaining her long-held secret.

The reminder of her current predicament extinguished the heartwarming exchange between her and Spence as the gratitude on her face was once again replaced by sadness and guilt. JJ pulled her hand away from his and ran it over her face as she released a heavy sigh. Spencer’s frown and worry-filled eyes returned at the sudden change in demeanor.

Sparing a quick glance over her shoulder reminded JJ where they were and where they were supposed to be. Rossi’s wedding. Cutting the cake.

Spencer watched with concern for his friend as she walked away. He felt a pang in his chest when JJ glanced briefly at Emily before resuming her position at Will’s side, wrapping her arm around his neck and hugging him close. Spencer didn’t think it could get any worse, knowing JJ was in love with someone she could never be with. That was until he observed Emily cast a glance at the blonde behind her and the strained grin that she’d become accustomed to force after so many years. It would go undetected by many, but Spencer was able to pick up on the hint of despondency in her expression. His heart shattered with empathy for Emily as he found himself relating to his friend, reliving the heartache of watching Derek fall in love with Savannah, get married, and have little Hank.

If only JJ hadn’t met Will twelve years ago, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Jennifer would smile that smile that made her eyes sparkle much more frequently. His heart ached for his friends that missed their shot with one another. Now all that remained were the ‘what if’s and the if only’s’.

Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jareau really were twin flames.

[kitchenwitchsuperwhovian]

No One’s Ever

Summary: The reader has some body issues which Dean resolves with a thorough tongue lashing.

Rating: Explicit

Square Filled: Cunnilingus

Word Count: 3,032

A/N:  I have these issues myself regarding this topic. That’s why I wrote Dean to be so understanding and caring towards helping the reader see just how special they are.  There are some triggers regarding bad body imaging with some angst, anger, feelings of shame and embarrassment, unprotected sex, blindfolds, silk restraints, plus it’s mostly pure smutty smut smut so…you’re welcome.

Written/Created for @spnkinkbingo

*GIFs not my own*

“Dean, I don’t see what the big deal is about you….ya know. Making me feel better about, you know.”  Y/N huffs while trying to fold the laundry. Her back is turned so she misses the confused and hurt expression on his face.

“Y/N/N, hon. It’s not about making you feel better but I do think that we need to talk about this.” Dean tries to calmly ask her to explain as he slowly hugs her from the back.

“Babe, everytime I try to please you orally, you shrink away from my touch and turn things around so you end up giving me head out of guilt. I know that you like doing that but it kinda feels like you don’t trust me enough to really let go.” Dean states while trying to assess the looks that cross Y/N’s face during his speech. He is doubly confused when without a word, Y/N drops the shirt she was folding and leaves the room without speaking to him. He decides to let her stew for a bit while he tries to figure out what he did wrong.

Y/N appears calm on the outside but her emotions are running riot inside to where she neglects to notice a silent stream of tears fall from her eyes as haunting and painful memories play in a loop in her head.

“You should really lose some weight. Maybe then you’ll be pretty enough to catch and keep a man, Y/N.”  

“But mom, you know that…”

“No Y/N. All your supposed little problems can be solved with a little weight loss, a new wardrobe, and some makeup tips to hide those little flaws on your face.”

“Y/N, I just don’t see you as someone who is attractive to me. Plus why should I be the one suffering through your inexperience when you could make a little effort to be better.”

“But Jack, I thought that you liked teaching me new things. You said I was a quick study.”

“I want a girlfriend, Y/N, not a student. Plus, I can’t really take you out looking the way you do, now can I?”

“Y/N, why don’t you come shopping with us? You look like you could use some retail therapy.”

While all of her friends are grabbing items to try on, Y/N is inside the “mature woman” section searching for clothes in her size when her friends find her forty minutes later muttering to herself only holding two pairs of pants and a brightly-colored shirt.

“Y/N, we found everything we were looking for and are ready to check out. You got everything?”

Looking at the pitiful selection of clothes she found in her size has Y/N looking down in shame and regret. She slowly puts the clothes back and gives her friends a large but fake smile.

“Not really. Just wanted to see if they would make a good outfit and it was a no go. I’m gonna head out and meet you at the Starbucks, okay?”

Y/N walks away quickly before the girls can see the tears building in her eyes. She misses the worried looks from her friends before they shrug and head to the checkout.

“You are fat, lazy, and Dean would never want to do that with you. He just feels bad that you give him head and he can’t reciprocate, that’s all. Who would want to anyway? Maybe if you keep him distracted with pie and sex, then maybe he’ll let this one issue go…” The little devil in Y/N’s ear whispers as her memories haunt her time with Dean.

Unfortunately, the old issues from her youth and romantic past have dug deep into her subconscious to where every time Dean tries to go down on Y/N, she flinches and pulls away in shame. The only time she gets any kind of enjoyment from oral is when she has her plump lips wrapped around Dean, moaning at the texture and feel of his throbbing member in her mouth. And the sounds he makes as she pleases him has her feeling needy and desirable before she inevitably does or says something that makes Dean stop and just look at her.

It was about a month later when the issue came to a head, so to speak….

“Babe, can you come here for a sec?” Dean hollers from the bedroom.

“What’s up? Why do you have a blindfold and scarves?” Y/N asks apprehensively.

“I want to try something different tonight. Do you trust me?” Dean asks sincerely as he stares into Y/N’s questioning eyes.

“You know I do but where is this coming from? Is this a new kink you want to try out?” She asks as she comes to stand in front of Dean and wonders at the almost fearful look in his eyes.

“Do you trust me enough to truly let go? I want to try something with you but it may make you feel scared or unsure. I want you to use the light system. Red for stop, Yellow for wait or to ask a question, and Green for Go or okay. But please keep in mind that if you say Red, everything stops and we get dressed with no mention of what happened. But I want you to be absolutely sure when you say Red. If you are feeling ashamed or afraid or uncomfortable, then use Yellow and we’ll talk before continuing. Now, strip and lay on your back on the bed baby.” Dean commands with a low growl that sends heat to Y/N’s core as she scrambles to do as he asked.

Dean observes her jerky motions and curious glances as she complies with his wishes. He is apprehensive about the next part of his plan and he secretly hopes that she can forgive him when this is over. “What color are you babe?” Dean whispers as he takes note of her increased breathing and twitching limbs.

“Green, I think. Yeah, Green.” Y/N states hesitantly with a hint of a nervous smile. Dean watches the way she clenches and unclenches her fists, trying to stay still and wait for his next command.

She jumps in anxiety when Dean trails light touches across the skin of her arms to unclench her fists. Once her fingers are locked with his, he grins wickedly and quickly hoists her higher onto the bed where she rests her head against the mountain of pillows Dean made earlier. She gasps as he efficiently ties her arms to the bedframe and kisses the palm of each hand before unravelling the blindfold. He takes a hair tie out of his pocket and makes a sloppy bun on the top of her head so no loose strands become stuck as he ties the blindfold around her eyes. She is now panting as the cool air sweeps over her body which causes her nipples to pebble and goosebumps to rise on her sensitive skin.

Dean steps back and just takes a moment to unabashedly look his fill over Y/N. The way her panting has her breasts sway with the movement of her body, the thin sheen of sweat that makes her skin glisten, the restless way her legs twist and twitch with arousal, and the perfection of her wet heat. With each glide of her legs trying to seek relief from her building arousal, more of her slickened lips is revealed that even now are dripping her honeyed essence onto the bedspread below. With a growl of need, Dean loses all patience and takes Y/N’s lips in a passionate mating of tongues and teeth that has her losing control of her breath.

“I want you to feel so good that the only name you remember is mine because you’ll be yelling it for hours.” Dean moans against Y/N’s chest moments before he attacks her left nipple between his lips and between the low growls and moans coming from deep within Dean and the nips and licks of his tongue, Y/N is a shaking and panting mess of sensation. She whines when he pulls away from her nipple with a loud pop and she’s about to plead and beg when he blows gently across her slickened nipple.  She has no warning as he continues his assault on her breasts as he uses tongue, teeth, and lips to drive her into a frenzy.

The sensation of his lips is only heightened by the lack of sight. Imagining Dean enjoying her body from the sounds he’s making and the slow glide of his jeans on her legs has her core clenching in need. “Dean?” Y/N shakily moans as he starts to descend down her chest towards her torso. She stiffens and contemplates yelling Red when Dean’s words come back to her scrambled mind. “If you are feeling ashamed or afraid or uncomfortable, then use Yellow and we’ll talk before continuing.” Y/N nibbles on her lip gently and whispers Yellow. Dean immediately steps away from her body and removes the blindfold so he can look clearly into her eyes.

“You said Yellow. Did I do something to scare you or make you feel ashamed or uncomfortable baby? Talk to me.” Dean asks while gently cupping her face in his hands. When she closes her eyes and a tear leaks out and down her cheek, fear seizes Dean’s heart and he feels like he can’t breath. She suddenly opens her eyes and the terror in them has Dean untying her hands and legs quickly to bring her into a crushing hug as the floodgates of emotions spring free of Y/N. Her sobbing breaks Dean’s heart and with each shaky inhale, a little more of his heart goes to her. For such a strong and capable woman to feel this level of terror has him seeing red at hunting down those who caused her pain.

After a couple of minutes, Y/N reluctantly pulls away from Dean’s embrace and takes a deep breath to try and calm the riot of emotions still trying to break free.  She fiddles with his buttons as she begins to tell him of the reasons behind her insecurities. When she finally stops talking and looks into Dean’s expressive eyes, she is shocked to see barely controlled rage instead of the pity and disgust she was afraid to find. She shakily places her hands on his cheeks and his eyes close as he nuzzles her palms. “Thank you Dean. For listening to my past and not judging me for it.”

“Baby, why would I judge you? They are the assholes who judged without all the facts first. And for your own mother to say that shit? I call bullshit. Is that why you don’t let me eat your pussy baby?” Dean asks with a wicked smirk on his face.

Y/N’s cheeks turn red as she buries her face in his chest and nods slightly. “Well baby, that’s about to change because I want to devour your pussy like it was my last meal.” Dean growls before dropping her back onto the bed and covering her shivering body with his own. She growls impatiently as she tries to take off his shirt. Dean chuckles at her until she grabs both fastenings of his shirt and rips it right down the middle. He is shocked at her show of strength as she straddles his waist to get his belt and jeans off. She groans as Dean forcefully stills her hands by her hips and squeezes once to get her attention. She looks as him in question and before she can utter a word, he flips them over and he removes the rest of his clothes in record time. He looks at her lying on the bed, legs moving restlessly, breasts heaving with each labored breath, and her shy glances at his rock hard erection. When she licks her lips and slowly parts her legs, Dean pulls her to the center of the bed and places a chaste kiss to her clit that has Y/N gasping in surprise.

She jolts and bucks as Dean licks a long stripe through her folds before flicking his tongue in a series of kitten licks that has Y/N clenching fistfulls of Dean’s hair in need. A long, drawn out moan erupts from deep within Y/N as Dean licks and suckles gently on her sodden lips. A surprised gasp has Dean smirking into her pussy as he repeatedly fucks his tongue in and out of her cunt before tracing light circles around her clit. The high pitched whine she makes when he inserts one of his thick fingers has Y/N rhythmically clenching her walls in desire. Dean continues his assault by flicking his finger in time with the suction of his lips on her clit. When he finds that bundle of nerves inside that has Y/N gasping his name and her legs clench tightly, trapping his head in her pussy, he knows that her orgasm will most likely trigger his.

“Please, please, please….” Y/N’s cries echo into the room as Dean thrusts his aching cock against her left leg, trying to seek some relief. Her walls start to convulse and pulse as he suctions his slick-glistened lips around her clit. When she feels the scrape of his teeth on her aching and throbbing clit, she screams his name in release. The feel of her walls pulsing around his finger has images of her pussy spasming around his cock have Dean clenching his teeth as he tries to hold back from cumming.

He keeps up his ministrations as she continues to shake and cry out in ecstasy. Her feral cries for Dean have him quickly losing control as he swiftly rises over her and thrusts his aching cock into her still quivering depths. When his tip strokes across her cervix, they both shout in unison as a second, more powerful orgasm rocks through Y/N, pulling Dean’s orgasm from him in surprise.

When they both come back to their senses, Dean realizes that he may be crushing her with his weight. However when he goes to move off of her, Y/N pulls him closer and snuggles deeper into his chest with an exhausted sigh. “Are you okay? Did you need anything?” Dean asks tentatively.

“No, I’m good. Just wanna hold you for a bit. How are you?” She asks while making herself more comfortable into his chest.

Dean chuckles and she looks up at him in question. “Babe, I was like a teenager with his first girl. I came with one stroke.”

“Oh.” Y/N states in a shocked and wondrous state. She can feel him, heavy and thick inside her pussy and she is stunned to realize that she likes what he did with his tongue and teeth. At the starling awareness, she involuntarily clenches her core and Dean lets out a low moan. When she does it again on purpose, Dean looks down into her passionate gaze. He kisses her gently and begins to stroke into her wet heat. Once he is hard as a rock, he leaves her pussy which causes Y/N to whine in loss.

Dean descends her body and Y/N is stunned to find that she wants Dean to eat her out again. She’s even more shocked when he licks their combined juices from her weeping center. Her sensitivity has her quickly climbing the peak of her third orgasm and as Dean traces letters over her over-stimulated clit, she screams until her voice cracks and tears fall from her eyes.

Dean kisses his way back up her body to her lips and their combined flavor has Y/N groaning in desire. She grabs Dean tightly and flips him onto his back. When he’s about to speak, she silences him with a firm grasp of his dick. He thrusts shallowly into her hand as he closes his eyes with the sensual overload she is delivering to his system. His eyes pop back open in surprise as she deep throats him, barely suppressing her gag reflex.

When she slowly glides her firm lips from his base back up to suck gently on his tip, Dean’s legs start to shake and spasm. She takes both hands and firmly pumps him as she caresses his tip with her tongue. Their combined essence has her groaning around his length and with a startled shout, he cums hard in her mouth. The salty sweet flavor of his release coats her tongue and her core spasms with a mini orgasm that has her breathing heavy, head resting on his right hip. She smiles as she tries to catch her breath when she feels Dean shakily stroking her hair away from her face.

She grins widely and crawls into his waiting arms. He spies her chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully and he hoarsely whispers for her to talk to him. “What were those letters you wrote? I may have been a little too far gone to pay attention…” Y/N states bashfully as Dean lets out a full-bellied laugh.

“I love you, Y/N.” Dean whispers into her hair. She looks at him in surprise and glee and whispers back that she loves him too. Moments before she drifts off to sleep, she playfully swats his chest and murmurs that she loves his tongue too. She smiles before slipping into slumber as she hears the sounds of Dean’s laughter echo throughout her bedroom.