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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 days ago

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Epilogue: I Don't Want To Lose Your Lovelight

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 10.8K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Illusions to past sex, Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Teasing, Fluff, LOVE, Talks of Pregnancy/thinking about pregnancy, little bit of self-deprecating thought. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal 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.

Listen While You Read🪴: Lovelight by ABBA

Spotify Playlist 🪴

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: Well here we are... The people have spoken and I will be leaving the happy version as is! Enjoy!

One Year Later

“I don’t understand why we need to have a realtor to look at apartments. Why can’t we just camp out in front of a nice apartment building and wait for an ambulance to wheel someone out like everyone else?” You huff looking down at the apartment listing on your phone that Ben was taking you to. “Or better yet, we could use Apartments.com. I trust Jeff Goldblum with my life.”

Who doesn't? The man is a national treasure.

"The guy from the movie about the dinosaurs?" Ben asks easing his car into traffic before taking a right.

Sunlight filtered through the windshield and down onto your lap illuminating the embroidered patches of flowers on your favorite blue jeans, the same jeans that were getting just a little tight at the top and the ones you wouldn't be able to wear for the next 6 months or so. You smile to yourself at the thought, and drop your left hand to your stomach that was just starting to swell beneath your botanical printed t-shirt, brushing a thumb over the soft fabric.

This year had been full of surprises, some good, some bad, but you didn’t care. Through the good and the bad, Ben had been there for you just as you had been there for him.

If someone had asked you what you thought your life was going to look like, it wouldn't have been this, but you were so blindingly happy that you didn't care. Ben might not have been the person that you imagined yourself with, but that was the funny thing about love, it could come with whispered breaths, soft caresses, and gentle promises or sneak up behind you and hit you over the back of the head with a frying pan.

There was no in between and your ears were still ringing from when it smacked you.

Ben quit his job at Vought over the phone the morning after the two of you finally realized what you should have known the moment you let Ben stay in your apartment the first time. It had been surreal waking up with him in your bed, his body hard and unyielding, curved around yours as if he wished to protect you while he was asleep. It was the same way you remembered from the morning you woke up with him on the couch when Darren was crashing in your room.

That night had seemed so far away then, an unpleasant flicker of emotion swelling when you thought of your brother, but then dissipated the longer you stared at Ben.

In the sweet relief of sleep he looked younger. His dark hair fell forward into his face, his bearded cheek laid gently on the pillow, and his usual frown pulled down into a neutral expression, but he looked just as handsome as he always did. Ben hadn't woken up until you raised his hand to your mouth and kissed the inside of his palm gently. And the smile he gave you when he did made you wish to exist in that moment with him forever. The look on his face then was so unlike the man you'd seen in the heat of battle the first time you met and everything like the man you'd fallen in love with.

Stan Edgar had been furious, said that Ben was purposely trying to make him look bad, but Ben didn't give a fuck what Stan thought of him, the only thing he cared about was curled against his chest, and was holding his hand to her lips.

Jake opened up the new plant shop re-named "Please Don't Die The Revenge," a title Jake and you had thought up after drinking way too many brightly colored margaritas at happy hour while Ben sulked and wished he was anywhere else.

However, Ben thought it was adorable how much of a light weight you were, and lead you home while you made jokes, giggled, and whispered things into his ear that only tested his restraint. Your boyfriend might be a lot of things, but he didn't want to take advantage of you when you were like that, especially not when you couldn't remember that you had feet and wouldn't stop crying until he took your shoes off and showed you that you still had them.

When Jake re-opened the shop, he insisted that you were going to be a partner, not an employee, and when he'd told you, you'd burst into tears while Ben grumbled under his breath something not worth repeating. Ben still didn't like Jake, and despite your numerous insistences for Ben to be nice, Ben was just as sullen around him as he had been since the first day they met. However, now Jake was used to it so you no longer felt the need to apologize.

You'd also decided to retire from working with Butcher, something that Ben wholeheartedly agreed with, especially now that you were pregnant. Sometimes you'd help out with something on the computer, but never in taking down a supe. It made you happier to work in the plant shop anyway, but didn't make you worry any less about Ben or everyone else.

The shop was doing well, and on weekends the store partnered with other businesses to host a block wide farmer's market, where you sold fruit, vegetables, dried herbs, hand crocheted goods, and jars of jam while Jake took the weekend off to visit his new girlfriend that he'd met when he went home for Christmas.

Ben may or may not have encouraged Jake to call her and you were sure it was so that Jake didn't get any ideas about how much time the two of you were spending together. You had an inkling that Ben still believed that you liked Jake no matter how many times that you proved to Ben you didn't. You didn’t think that there was any competition between Ben and Jake, not when being with Ben made you feel alive in the best way and being with Jake was like being with an overactive golden doodle.

However, despite how many times you told Ben that he didn't need to come with you on his days off, he would sit beside you frowning, but following your movements with his eyes while you helped customers. Every so often you'd see a half-smile twitch on the end of his lips, happy that you were happy- but not happy to be there. It was a theme with your boyfriend, but you knew it stemmed from how much he loved you. Being in the plant shop and seeing Jake reminded you of that, because Ben had made sure that the shop re-opened for you and he had saved Jake's life for you. Ben had done more for you in the time that you'd been together than anyone else that you'd allowed into your life and into your bed.

Ben was it for you, and you were going to prove it every day for the rest of your life to him if that was what it took.

Days at the farmer’s market were fun. You would close down for an hour so Ben and you could wander to different booths to see what everyone else was selling.

Those days always felt normal. It reminded you of the farmer's market that your hometown had each Saturday and the same ones you dragged Annie to at the crack of dawn to get the first sample of freshly churned honey butter or the first sample of strawberry ice cream. When Ben and you walked hand in hand through the crowded marketplace stopping along the way to sample fruit, cheese, honey, and whatever else you could find with the warm sun on you back, it was the happiest you'd ever felt.

It was what you'd always wanted, the kind of relationship you’d longed to have for so long, the same one you’d seen growing up with your parents and grandparents, and the one you'd thought you'd never have.

You could see yourself marrying Ben. Odd given the first time you met, you'd thought he was just a big grumpy brute of a man with the attitude of a caveman and the impatience of a toddler. But now things were different, Ben was your caveman with an impatience of a toddler, and you'd never felt this way about anyone else.

You'd never wanted anyone like you wanted Ben and couldn't see a future without him in it. Even in the earlier months the two of you were dating, you could see your life unfolding before your eyes. It felt crazy because you’d never been one to rush into anything, but with Ben the things that used to hold you back from jumping into the great unknown disappeared.

These days the unknown seemed to grow larger and larger by the minute, but instead of feeling uncomfortable about not knowing, you felt free.

Of course, the pregnancy was holding the gold medal for biggest source of the unknown.

It had been a surprise to find out that you were pregnant two and a half months ago. Not completely, given how enthusiastic, insatiable, and eager your boyfriend was when it came to sex or really how you were when it came to him.

In all honesty, you couldn't blame it all on Ben.

You were just as responsible for this as him given how much you seemed to want him all the time. Surprising, because you were never like this with your high school boyfriend or in any of the other sporadic relationships you'd had in the past, but you supposed that it was just Ben, that there was something about him that made you lose all sense of self-control. You also figured that you let the self-control drive long enough when you refused to admit how much you cared about him and now you owed it to yourself to throw it all out the window and lose yourself in everything he was.

That being said, you were terrified the moment you found out you were pregnant. Ben had been away on a mission and you'd had to wait a week for him to get back while you sat with your grandmother on your couch for days. You hadn't wanted to tell Ben yet and especially not over the phone.

It didn't seem like something you said over the phone anyway.

Your grandmother had shown up a few hours after you took the seventh test, because you hoped that there was some kind of mistake with the first six. She'd seen the future before you had a chance to pick up the phone and give her a call, but you were grateful that she was there.

You needed her.

Annie would have come too, but she was out of town on the same mission that Ben was. And you were afraid to call for fear that Ben would hear you say it over the phone with his supe hearing. Texting her that you were pregnant meant that it would be in print somewhere with evidence and you didn't want the possibility of Ben seeing it on Annie's phone.

That last part seemed a little far fetched, because you didn't know why Ben would have Annie's phone, but you were allowing yourself to have a mini-freak out, you were pregnant.

But no matter how many scenarios you discussed with your grandmother, it always came back to one thing, you loved Ben and you wanted to have a baby with him. You just weren't sure of the timing.

The two of you had only been together for ten months then, and although you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else, you were hesitant.

Ben was still adjusting to everything in the future and introducing a kid into his life could be chaotic and messy. You also weren't sure if it was a good idea given how insane Ben's life had been for the past forty years and how hard you were trying to give him a sense of normalcy in the time you'd been together.

But then you'd thought about it more.

The shop was doing well, you loved Ben, he loved you, you did want kids, and you were so happy that it made you believe that it was the right time.

Ben had been excited when you told him, but then you both realized the bigger dilemma, your apartment. It was already small with the two of you, Rex, and Bean. Ben didn't fit in the shower or in your bed and he barely fit in your kitchen when the two of you were standing in it, which meant that adding a kid to the mix would only make the apartment smaller.

You'd looked at an apartment five months ago, only because you saw how excited he was about something so mundane and it made your heart warm to see that he wanted to build a life with you, but you had hated the apartment. It reminded you of the terrible one he'd had at Vought.

And the one Ben was taking you to see today wasn't much better. This was number seventeen and you didn't have high hopes.

Ben takes a left turn, going over a speed bump that you somehow can't feel inside the cab. His car was fancier than what you were used to and brand new. Ben had proudly told you that they weren't selling them in the United States yet, which begged the question: how in the hell had he gotten it? It had enough switches inside to make you fear about the probability of an ejector seat.

The first time he’d picked you up in it, you were grateful he’d opened the door for you when you tried to get out because you were sure that it would have taken you twenty minutes to figure that out on your own. You’d thought that Ben would have at least sprung for a car that was more low tech or something that reminded him of the life he had in the past, but no.

And now he was talking about getting another car for you that was higher off the ground to make sure that the baby would be safe. He kept saying how he didn't like you walking around when he wasn't there to go with you and a car would be safer, despite your protests that you liked walking and didn't need a car.

You never thought that Ben would be this overprotective, you should have, given how he acted like a helicopter parent after everything with Elijah, but he was.

The pregnancy only made it worse.

He never let you walk in your neighborhood or to work without him, claiming that it "wasn't safe" as if you weren't a supe and couldn't handle yourself. Whenever you went to the grocery store Ben tagged along frowning at whoever walked by with a shopping cart as if they were a threat. When somebody dropped a glass pickle jar two aisles over a few days ago and Ben had grabbed you and put you behind him so fast it made you dizzy.

Now whenever you tried to leave the apartment, Ben insisted that he could do whatever errand it was that you were going to do faster, and he was always reluctant to leave you at the plant shop, stating that you "shouldn't be lifting things." You'd even caught him reading one of your pregnancy books when he thought you were in the shower and he'd lied and said that it fell on the floor and he was 'just picking it up.' That didn't explain how he knew exactly what you should be eating and what vitamins you needed to take.

But instead of teasing Ben about it, you kept your mouth shut because you thought it was cute how much Ben cared about you and how excited he was about the baby. You knew that he'd been waiting for this for much longer than you.

You'd woken up a few days ago with Ben's head on your stomach listening to the baby's heart-beat while he thought you were asleep murmuring things under his breath that you couldn’t hear.

It was those moments that made any anxiety you had about being a parent fade, because you knew that you weren't alone in this, that Ben was with you and he wasn't going anywhere.

“He’s an amazing actor and he’s definitely going on the list of people I’m allowed to cheat on you with.” You snort mind flitting to images of Jeff Goldblum lounging on a table clad in black, looking much too sexy for someone who was attacked by a t-rex.

“You realize that no matter how long that list gets you’re still not allowed to do that right?” Ben glances over at you with a frown.

Ben looked good today. His dark hair was a little longer than usual- he kept saying that he needed to get a haircut but never did-, he was wearing a pair of sunglasses that made him look dangerous and sexy, and the blue jeans he was wearing were some of your favorites. They were worn in just right and each time Ben wore them it made it difficult for you to form a single sentence. Of course, the thing that made you want to jump his bones even more was the fact that Ben was wearing the dark green sweater you made him for Christmas.

You had been so scared to give it to him, but since that day, Ben wore it whenever he could, and whenever the two of you were out and he would get a compliment, because he always did, Ben would say proudly "my girlfriend made it for me."

“Sure. Just like I’m sure that no matter how long that list gets for you, if you ever cheat on me I’ll castrate you.” You reply, scrolling to a different listing on your phone. This one had a nice view of Central Park, but the living room looked big enough to park four SUV's in. It was too much, too big, and too cold.

No matter how many different apartments you looked at in person or online, you never seemed to find one that felt like home. In each one you'd found something that you didn't agree with, whether it be the bathroom, the lack of a washer/dryer, the neighborhood, or the layout, nothing felt right and you were starting to worry. At this rate you were sure that your child would be old enough to move out before the two of you found somewhere to live. You wanted a place that reminded you of your home back in Illinois with your grandmother, someplace that felt warm, someplace that you could see yourself raising a family, and something that felt permanent.

Your fingers go to the locket around your neck, rubbing your thumb over the cool metal surface, tracing the grooves and pattern on the front to ease your anxiety. It had been Ben's mother's, one of the only things that he had left of her, but it was something that he wanted you to have. It was the most important gift that you'd ever gotten in your entire life, because you knew what it represented. Your boyfriend might not be good with his words or expressing his emotions, but this locket said everything he couldn't.

Ben's eyes trace over where you sit. "What's wrong Petals?"

"Nothing-"

Ben sighs "You've got that scrunch between your eyebrows sweetheart. We both know you can't lie to me."

You hesitate. "I don't like that we haven't found a place yet."

"That why you can't sleep?"

You bite the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. You didn't know that Ben had noticed how you weren't sleeping well and it had nothing to do with not being able to find an apartment.

At first you thought that it was the pregnancy, as if the almost constant morning sickness wasn't enough, making you have worse dreams than normal was the icing on top of the cake. You'd had nightmares in the past about your parents, but these dreams were different. They were all about your brother Darren and each time he stood in front of you his skin and flesh melted away leaving nothing more than a flickering outline that buzzed and popped like a hot stove before it fizzled up and disappeared.

You had no idea what it meant, but you didn’t want to bring it up to Ben, not when he was so happy. So you choose not to answer his question.

"We're going to find a place, this just takes time." He continues.

"Not for me. Not usually. I chose my last apartment within a weekend-"

"And look at how shitty it is!" Ben huffs. "I can't believe that you lived there as long as you did without getting mugged."

"I am able to handle myself. And if you recall you have seen me fight off muggers."

Ben's frown deepens. "Don't remind me." You watch his eyes flick down to where your hand rests gently on your abdomen. "Look Petals, I know you like our apartment, but it's not just us anymore."

"I know."

"I don't want to raise our kid in that building with Mike blowing out my fucking eardrums every morning. And I could do without his mother trying to hump my leg like a bitch in heat every time I take out the trash."

Your eyes water just a little when Ben says the word ‘our.’ It solidified the thought that you weren’t alone in this, that Ben wasn’t going to leave you. You didn't really believe that he would, but it was nice to be reminded once in a while.

"Aww she's your biggest fan. And I seem to remember you being into older women before we were together-"

"And I seem to remember you saying that you would castrate me if I cheated on you."

"I will castrate you, but Mike's mother doesn't count. She's your hall pass, just like Jeff Goldblum is mine."

"No, he's not."

"Debatable."

"Petals." Ben growls, throwing you a dark look from over the console that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before Ben you never thought that jealousy was attractive, didn't think that it was cute when your high school boyfriend Newton got jealous when someone else talked to you, but Ben could make even the most annoying things look sexy.

"You should keep your eyes on the road Gramps, wouldn't want to get in an accident."

"I don't fucking care. Keep talking like that sweetheart and I'm going to pull the car over and make sure that my name is the only one on those perfect lips."

You arch an eyebrow in a silent challenge. "Promise?"

"And you say it's me that always gets us into trouble." Ben chuckles with a dark look.

The car comes to a stop and you turn away from Ben's hypnotic gaze to stare out the window, expecting to see the beautiful all glass front of the apartment that was way out of your price range, but instead the car is sitting outside a house in quiet neighborhood overhung with large trees that weave together in a canopy over the street.

The house is three stories, made of red brick, the small yard in front is fenced with black wrought iron with a garden box lying beyond the metal spikes where someone has tried to grow plants, but was not having any success. There's a dark painted archway over the black door that boldly has the number of the home written in gold, and a large round window dominates the space to the left of the door cut into the red brick, that is partially obscured by a mass of tangled vines which cling to the outside of the house.

"So we're going to have sex in your car outside of this house? Feels like the homeowner's association will have a field day." You watch a couple walk past with matching dalmatians and cashmere sweaters. "Or we'd get arrested for public indecency when fido and fido's girlfriend call 911."

"Maybe later."

"Well then why did you stop? Did you get lost?" You turn to look at him. "It's okay if you did, I won't make fun of you-" You pause. "Never mind, I can't promise that."

Ben rolls his eyes. "No, I didn't get lost. I wanted you to see this place."

"Ben this is a house." You emphasize the word, your eyes widening. "Remember when we had the conversation about trying to get an apartment so I could at least help you with the rent."

It had been an awkward conversation, you felt bad about making him try to reign in something that made him so excited.

Now that you were part owner of the plant shop you were getting a little more money and didn't need to rely so heavily on Ben, but you still didn't like taking his money. Your grandmother had always instilled in you the importance of being independent and you'd never relied on someone the way you relied on Ben.

You'd always felt the need to prepare yourself for the worst, for having a back up plan if things didn't work out, and you were realizing just how much weight you put on your shoulders each day. Ben wanted to lighten the load, you knew that, but you were trying your best to put more trust in him, inching out from beneath the piano on your shoulders by letting him do more and more for you.

It was still hard.

"Petals." Ben touches your cheek, eyes softening and making your next words dry up. He didn't often do things like that in public, but each time he did it made you feel like warm butter on a hot stove.

When Ben had started calling you that a year ago it annoyed you to no end, but now he said it affectionately, with love and hope in his eyes, and it stirred something deep down.

"Let’s just look at this one. And if you don't like it, I promise I'll drive to whatever apartment you want me to okay?"

"But it's a-" You protest, but you lean into his touch.

"I know it's a house."

"Are you sure? They say that the eyes are the first thing to go, especially with someone your age Gramps."

He huffs out a breath in annoyance. "I don't know why I put up with this shit."

"Because you loooveee me." You coo poking his cheek.

The look in Ben's eyes softens again, slowly tracing down your form to your belly again, before coming back up to your face. "Only because you annoy me so much."

"Exactly." You reach for what you believe is the door handle and Ben's smile drops into a frown.

You retract your hand. “It’s not the door handle is it?”

“Not in case you want to crawl out the window.”

“I do like to make an entrance.”

“You always do baby. Even when you’re not trying.” Ben winks and gets out of the car, walking around the back to open the door for you.

“Thank you.” You say taking his hand without hesitation.

The house looks even bigger when you gaze up at it from the sidewalk, but you can't help but admit that the house is beautiful in it's own way. It has more character than the other ones on the street that look like carbon copies of one another. It wore it's weirdness like a badge of honor, just like you always had.

And even with the small garden out front filled with dead plants that rot in the wooden garden box and the tangled vines that cover the circular front window, you can see the potential it has.

"I like the trees." You say, gesturing with the hand that's not holding on to Ben's at the canopy of large oak trees over the road that block the brilliant sunlight and leave the imprint of their outstretched branches on the pavement.

"I thought you would." Ben squeezes your hand.

"So where's our realtor?" You glance around the empty road for the sleek black Mercedes that "Tina," aka the most nosy woman in the world and your realtor, drove, but you don't see it.

"She said that she wanted to give us some space." He tugs you forward, opening the gate as he does.

"Thank God. If she tried to touch my stomach one more time or eye fuck you when she thought I wasn't looking, I was going to perform open heart surgery on her with her stilettos."

"Would have loved to see that Petals. Maybe I should have let her come today."

"Do you remember how strong Homelander was? Because I'm about to show you that he was nothing compared to a pregnant woman scorned." You warn, but Ben only laughs at you.

Your gaze falls to the attempted garden. Rosebushes, lavender, tulips, and many other flowers lie in states of decay choked with weeds, while other plants that you can't identify lie shriveled up and brown on the darkened soil. It tugs at your heart to see them that way, unloved and uncared for, left to curl up and die.

You feel your eyes shift to green calling forth the flowers, bringing them to the light, drawing them upwards to unfurl in the light of the sun and absorb the healing rays. The plants brighten and explode with pops of color that fuse the front of the house with new life and jasmine flowers bloom along the ivy that crawls up the side of the house sending the comforting smell over you as it takes on a more controlled woven tapestry rather than the chaotic snarl it was moments ago. Bougainvillea stretches up to weave itself above the front door, the dark red blooms contrasting with the black door. The circular window winks at you, and through the glass you can just barely see a hint of lightly painted walls beyond.

Your gaze falls to the small area in front of the house.

You could see yourself out here wearing your gardening hat with Bean and Rex sunning themselves in the sunlight while you weed with sweat sticking your shirt to your back and while dirt stains your fingers. Your eyes flick to the empty front steps, imagining Ben and you sitting there with cups of coffee steaming beside the two of you, with your head against his shoulder reading the paper he has open in front of him.

No, not thinking that. This is a house. Ben and I are looking for an apartment.

"Couldn't help yourself could you Petals?" Ben murmurs, dragging your attention back to him.

"No. Though I might want a commission from helping the seller with the curb appeal."

Ben rolls his eyes, but pulls you up the cheerful concrete steps to the black door before he takes a key from his pocket.

You eye it suspiciously.

"Tina gave it to me." He says with a shrug.

"That better be the only thing she gave you." Your eyes narrow, thinking of all the things that Tina could have done to your boyfriend when you weren't around.

"Jealous?" Ben's smile slips into a smirk. "Need I remind you of all the things you said you were going to let Jeff Goldblum do to you?"

"Need I remind you about the threat of castration?"

Ben leans down towards you, his breath warm against your ear, so close that you could smell his cologne. "We both know that you like what I do to you too much to cut it off Petals, especially now."

A pleasurable shiver traces your spine with his words and as much as you hated to admit it, Ben was right. As insatiable as you'd been for Ben before you were pregnant, now it had only multiplied ten fold.

In the first few weeks of your pregnancy you couldn’t have imagined wanting to have sex with Ben, the near constant morning sickness, swollen breasts, and nausea left little to be desired, but as you slowly began to inch into your second trimester you felt a change. It was like a switch had flipped. Yes the morning sickness came in waves, but your hormones bumped around inside from sick, to sad, to angry, to loving, to aroused so fast it didn’t matter for long and you were both reaping the benefits. Ben was eager to help you in any way he could and due to his supe enhancements he was able to keep up and keep you more than happy.

You fist your hand in the front of his shirt to pull his face down to yours, lips inches apart, your eyes narrowed, but pupils blown with lust. "Don't tease me right now Gramps."

"Wouldn't dream of it doll." Ben purrs, his eyes darkening.

Fuck.

You didn’t want to give in, but whenever Ben looked at you like that it made your skin heat and your heartbeat feel like thunder, vibrating through your entire body.

Ben leans towards you, but just before your lips touch his, he scoops you up into his arms and crosses the threshold.

“Ben what the hell are you doing?” You laugh, pushing at his chest.

“What? Was I not supposed to carry you across?” He pretends to be surprised.

“That’s only if we’re married dummy and this isn’t our house.”

“Oh well then it’s good practice.” Ben smirks and finally kisses you, drawing you tighter against his chest for a few precious seconds. It wasn't the kiss you expected a moment ago, this kiss was hungry, but not rushed, passionate, but not aggressive, and yet it was all consuming.

You sigh into his mouth, holding the front of his shirt tightly. You’d never gotten used to how it felt to kiss him, how everything else melted away except for him and you. Even when you’d hated him, Ben still knew exactly how to kiss you to take away all your inhibitions.

You could easily see yourself spending the rest of your life with him. And given the revelation that you potentially could live forever, it meant even more. You know that it made Ben feel good too. That he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to be alone ever again, that he could love someone the way he loved you and be unafraid of losing you.

Ben pulls back a wide smirk on his face. "I'm sorry wasn't that what you wanted? For me to bring you inside?" The look in his eyes shifts to amusement with his taunt. "Or were you thinking about me fucking you against the front door for fido and his girlfriend to see?"

"Shut up." Your cheeks heat in embarrassment that your boyfriend could read you that well.

"Because I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing Petals, but if you want we can go back outside and-"

You force his face down to yours, shutting him up the only way you know how. Ben groans into your mouth as your hands work their way up into his hair to hold him in place, your lips fervently moving against his as the warmth of arousal begins to thrum through your veins and pool in the pit of your stomach.

You pull back out of breath, fingers still tangled in Ben's long hair, your gaze locking on his. Ben's eyes are dark, lips curved up into a knowing smirk that, if Ben wasn't holding you in his arms, would make your legs give out. One of his arms is underneath your knees, but the other is around your chest, and you can feel Ben's hand fitting comfortably over the bump hidden beneath your t-shirt, absorbing the steady thud of your child's heartbeat against the palm of his hand. Something lurked behind the familiar green in his eyes, something that you could feel bubbling up in your own chest the longer you stared at him.

"Come on I want you to see the house." Ben mutters pressing one more kiss against your lips before he gently places you on the hardwood floor.

"I know. Stop distracting me." You say as you flip your hair over your shoulder.

"I'm a wonderful distraction. Wouldn't mind distracting you a little longer." His arm comes up to wrap tight around your waist, pulling your back into his chest. Ben’s lips trail down to your neck, nipping at the smooth flesh of your throat.

“Ben.” You half moan, leaning back into him. "Please."

"I know baby." He hums. "But lets look at the house first. After I'll give you what you need."

"Tease." You mutter under your breath earning a chuckle from Ben.

The two of you are standing in a foyer with a large staircase in front of you that leads to the second and third story of the house. A lightly painted hallway stretches beyond it, and a living room lies to the left through a wide doorway. The interior of the house is a mix of old and new, vintage and modern, with warm colored hardwood floors running throughout, lightly painted walls, and with dark colored wooden baseboards and door frames.

It reminded you of your grandmother's house back in Illinois and even without furniture the inside of this house felt like home. It wasn't drafty, too white, too new, too old, or too cold- it existed in the perfect harmony that Ben and you had been looking for since you started looking for an apartment.

No. This is a house. This is the complete opposite of what Ben and I are looking for.

You remind yourself as you walk into the small room to the left of the front door. There's a giant fireplace on the opposite wall with neatly placed built ins on either side. Natural sunlight came through the large circular window on the front of the house, giving you a view of the garden you'd reinvigorated with new life and the quiet street overhung with trees outside.

You could see yourself reading quietly on a plush armchair in the corner while Bean and Rex sunned themselves on the wooden floors or sitting on a couch and cuddling with Ben under a blanket in front of the fireplace when it got too cold outside, nestling into his warmth to keep the chill at bay.

You drift through the other doorway across from the circular window that leads into a dining room area. It has the same wonderfully natural colored hardwood floor so soft you were sure that it would feel like butter beneath your bare feet. You run a finger tip over the wooden doorway, feeling the smooth, strong wood beneath your hand. You could still see notches in the boards from where another family had measured how tall their children were growing with every passing year and it made you smile to yourself.

This house had character, had a history. It wasn't built in haste to house a population of people who probably would spend more time out than in, it was built with love and care, and had charm. It was what the apartments that Ben and you had seen wasn't.

Ben hovers behind you silently, watching you move through the space with curiosity. He drinking in your expressions and trying to see what you thought. You had no idea how he found this place, not when the two of you had been looking at huge modern apartments in buildings that weren't more than a year old.

The kitchen is even more impressive.

It's modern, with stainless steel appliances, light granite countertops, and a dark green backsplash, but somehow still holds some of the vintage charm that merges seamlessly together with the new appliances.

You could see yourself making jams for the farmer's market at the stove, making dinner for your family or sitting with Annie at the counter with glasses of wine lamenting over everything Hughie and Ben did to annoy the two of you while secretly loving them all the more for it. You could see yourself dancing with Ben to ABBA while the lights were low and he got home from work, just as you had seen your parents do years ago and imagined a vase filled with flowers on the counter that Ben brought home just because he felt like it, not because it was a special occasion. Ben did that for you every week, brought home flowers because he knew how much they made you smile.

"This kitchen is huge!" You exclaim, spreading your arms out to twirl in a circle. "Annie and Hughie could fit in here too!"

Ben frowns at your mention of Hughie.

"What?" You lean over the counter to stare at Ben. "You know that if we get a bigger place they're going to come over for dinner more often right? I'm thinking Friday nights they could come over for dinner and a movie-"

It was a tradition that your parents had started, that Annie and you carried on when they died, and now Ben picked up the slack. Spending Friday nights on the couch under a blanket eating greasy pizza out of the box had seemed like a foreign concept for Ben, but now it was him that always made sure that he was home on Friday nights to make it to movie night so you could cuddle up against him under the warm blankets.

"I think we see them enough." Ben leans on his side of the counter across from you with a frown. "Plus, I thought that you would like a kitchen a little bit bigger to make me dinner."

“Or maybe," You tap your chin as if deep in thought, eyes narrowing. "The kitchen is big enough for you to start pulling your weight. Doing the dishes, cleaning up, trying to make dinner for your pregnant girlfriend-“ You count off on your fingers.

“How long are you going to use that excuse?”

“For the next 7ish months or so."

Ben huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes at you, while you continue to move through the kitchen.

There's a giant living area just beyond that you can imagine Ben and you sitting on the couch in front of a TV watching another one of his ridiculous films or see you and your child sitting on the couch reading a book together while Ben sits beside you with his arm around your shoulders. You didn't know the sex of the baby, wanted to wait a little longer to see how things progressed before you found out.

But each day it became more real.

You could hear the pitter patter of feet across the floor and the squeals of an imaginary child racing through with Ben hot on their heels trying to catch them, could see a child with a smaller Rex wrapped around the back of their shoulders feeding him bits of strawberries, and could see a child in a highchair while Ben and you tried to feed them spaghetti. Your left hand drops to your belly again as you think of what the future could look like and the longer that you stand inside this house the more you can see yourself living here with Ben, having a life here together.

You hadn't seen that anywhere else that the two of you had gone to see in the past few months. It made all of this even more real.

I'm going to be a mom.

The thought lodged in the back of your throat. You were excited, but you were also a little worried. You didn't know the first thing about being a mom and no matter how many books you read or how many blogs you found, you felt underprepared.

Not to mention you could still remember all the videos that you'd had to watch in middle school about childbirth that were made to scare students into being celibate and it only made your anxiety worse.

"What are you thinking about Petals?" Ben asks, coming around the counter and turning you in his arms. His face is twisted into a concerned frown.

Tears were building behind your eyes now, your emotions getting the best of you. It was easy for you to cry about nothing at all, but this was different. Your future was slipping through your fingers, unfolding in front of you in this house. It reminded you of how you'd felt for the past few years when all you wanted was to fall in love and be loved by someone. The lovesick feeling that followed you around as you tried your best to find a man who would make you happy the way that Hughie made Annie happy, but never seemed to find the right one before you met Ben.

"This place it's perfect, but-"

"But what?" Ben's thumb brushes the tears away, eyes focused on you. Whenever Ben looked at you like that you thought that he could see through you to the pieces that no one else ever cared to uncover.

"It's a house." You breathe leaning into his touch.

"And you don't like it?"

"No, I love it." You whisper, but you feel a little frustrated. "I can see us here. See a ridiculously big Christmas tree in that corner," You point to the living room. "See breakfasts on this counter," you gently slide your hand along the marble countertop. "See us watching movies in the living room on our couch and see our kids running around outside in that back yard." You gesture to the all glass back wall of the house where there's a finished patio and a surprisingly large lawn outside, but stranger is the giant greenhouse that sits just beyond.

"So what's the problem?"

"I mean… it's not what we talked about. Can we even afford this?"

You knew that Ben could afford it, you just weren't sure about you.

Ben is quiet for a minute, before he takes your hand and tugs you in the direction of the backyard. "I want you to see something."

"Something? The house isn't-"

"There's one more thing." He squeezes your hand and takes you outside.

There is a canopy of trees that shields the patio from the sun overhead that has begun to descend behind the houses on the street, the clouds turning a burnished gold in the light as it says goodbye.

The two of you follow the path of stones neatly laid in the lush grass, leading to the greenhouse that looks much bigger than it did from inside. It easily reaches to the second story of the house and has a black iron skeleton that holds together the pieces of glass artfully placed in different shapes and sizes.

Ben turns to look at you. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Do you trust me Petals?" He looks at you, his green eyes catching yours, wide and open. You knew that he knew the answer to that question, but you also knew that Ben never believed that someone like you could or should trust him.

You promised yourself when the two of you started dating that you would make Ben feel special each day the same way he made you feel special and made Ben understand that you loved him and you weren't going anywhere.

The things that Countess did to him still weighed on his heart, but you were happy to see that after one year with you, Ben was different. He was more open to telling you what he was feeling, (one word answers), he was more open to sharing memories with you, (only a sentence usually), and Ben was getting comfortable using the word "love." It had taken him a solid three months to say it, but Ben didn't need to say it, you knew it was true long before he uttered it aloud.

"Of course I do." You lean into him, your free hand coming to rest on his chest. There was a slight chill on the edge of the wind, a promise of winter, but the warmth of Ben's body shields you from the breeze.

"Then close your eyes." He repeats.

There's something dancing in his expression that you can't place, but your gaze travels down to his shoulders and you realize that Ben is nervous. You'd never seen your boyfriend nervous in a while, the last time was when he gave you the locket that hung between your collar bones.

But you do as he says and he brings you inside. "Okay, open."

When you do, your heart stutters to a stop in shock.

The greenhouse isn't empty. There are rows of citrus trees with lemons, oranges, and tangerines, apple trees with bright red fruit, potted blueberry plants, vegetables, and herb plants sitting on low tables, woven vines of raspberry and blackberry plants on trellises that cover the walls, and a collection of potted strawberry plants one of which is in a pot that looks a lot like the one that Darren broke when he came through the window of your apartment one year ago.

There's a circular staircase to the left of the door that would take you up to a second story where there are even more plants, but also a sitting area that feels warm and bright, and has a fan hanging over to make sure that it stayed just a little cool in the warm month. It would be the perfect place to read and relax, more so than the room inside you noticed when you walked into the house.

On the bottom floor there is a potting bench surrounded by flowering plants pushed against the right wall where new tools hang and colorful pots are placed. There's also an obscene amount of bagged potting soil stacked up higher than you are tall just to the left of it.

You gently lay your hand on the wood of the bench to feel how soft it is. The wood has been sanded down to be smooth as silk and you look to the right to see that next to it, is a identical bench but smaller with tools made of plastic for a child and a small apron that matched the one hanging from a hook fastened to the greenhouse wall.

Is that for-

The thought stutters to a halt. You didn't understand why this was here. A greenhouse in New York City wasn't odd, but the fact that there was one almost two stories tall and contained everything you might need to expand the farmer's market you had grown to love so much at the back of this house was odd.

There's a potted gardenia sitting on top of the bench and the bright smell brings the gentle comfort of home as the delicate flowers bend towards you.

Being in here is the same way you feel whenever you're in the plant shop. You could feel the new life curling beneath the soul, feel the thrum of energy from the plants that turned towards you expectantly, and feel the way your powers reached out to them to offer a healing hand.

"Ben, why is this here?" You ask confused.

Ben clears his throat. "You know I hate that fucker, but he works fast."

"Who?" You turn to him.

"Jake." Ben says simply. He's leaning against the doorway watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Jake did this?" You gesture to the greenhouse full of plants, enough plants that you would be able to supply the farmer's market each week without batting an eye. Now, you used the plants in your apartment, but there never seemed to be enough to keep up with the demand, but here-

Wait a minute this is crazy. This isn't our house. What the hell is going on?

“I thought you needed a little more product and he told me he’d take care of it.”

"But why was Jake-"

"I figured it out Petals, why none of those other places felt right." He interrupts. "I didn't get it before, why you didn't like the apartments we went to see, why you kept finding something wrong with them. Fuck, I made fun of you for saying shit like 'the ceiling is too high,' but as soon as I found this place I knew it was right."

"What are you talking about?" You still didn't understand why any of this was here.

Why would Ben want Jake to bring all these plants here if we're just looking at this house.

“I lied." Ben crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his shoulders as if it makes him uncomfortable to admit it.

“About what?” You frown.

Ben didn't like lying to you, you knew that, and you liked how brutally honest Ben was about everything. Trust was a two way street between the two of you, and just as Ben didn't lie to you, you didn't lie to him- well… Ben always seemed to know when you were lying, but that didn't change the fact that you didn't like lying to him.

“I didn’t tell Tina not to come today and we were never going to see that apartment. I told you that to get you to come with me.”

“Why?” You draw out the word still confused.

“Because I already bought this house.” Ben smiles tightly.

“You WHAT?!” You screech eyes widening. “Why?!”

“For the same reason you said Petals, it’s perfect.”

“But- But-" You don't know how to respond to what he's admitted. "You said we were just looking! That this place is-"

Ben shakes his head with a sigh as he takes a step closer to where you stand. "It's funny that I lived this long and still somehow happened to fall in love with someone a little more old-fashioned, but I fucking love that about you, that you're not like anyone else." He reaches across the space to take your hand in his, the warm calloused palm fitting perfectly over yours.

"What does that have to do with the house?”

"Apartments don't feel permanent, not to you, they feel temporary, but a house… it makes this real." Ben swallows. "And I want this to be real."

You blink in confusion, worried about him. "Ben, what are you talking about?" You squeeze his hand trying to comfort him. "This is real." Your free hand comes up to cup his bearded cheek, that prickles against your skin. "I love you. Nothing is going to change that. Not the baby or where we live or-"

"I know that." He laughs. "I mean this." Ben gestures with his free hand to the greenhouse and then back at the home behind the two of you. "There's room for our kid and for as many as you'll let me give you. There's room for Diana, and even though I know she'd rather die in that house in Illinois than move here, I'm going to try my damndest to get her here so she can be with you. I know how much you miss her. And as much as I hate the idea, there's even room for Annie and fucking Hughie if they want to stay the night." He grumbles with a sigh. "It's a good neighborhood, so I won't have to worry about you getting mugged or some shit when I'm stuck with that British fuck somewhere else, and it's close to schools that my old man would have probably liked, but I want our kids to be safe and have a good education."

“But-“

“I know it’s a house.” Ben breathes. “But just listen for a minute.”

You swallow the lump in the back of your throat, more tears building in your eyes. It was hard to be angry with him over something that you wanted as much as he did. And the truth was, you weren't angry with him for buying the house. It again represented the one thing that you'd told Ben that night at Vought, that you liked gifts that meant something, and standing here in the greenhouse that Ben had made sure was filled with enough plants to support your dream in the backyard of the house Ben bought not only for you but for your children, made you want to melt into a puddle.

Because Ben was ensuring the two of you had a future, that your children had a future, and you didn't think that you could love him any more than you already did.

“When I took you to Vought I didn't know any better. I was comparing you to the women I used to fuck around with and what they would have wanted, what they would have thought was special." Ben's jaw tightens and you wonder if he's thinking about Countess. "But I wanted to give you that life because I thought it's what you would want and because I wanted to take care of you, but I was wrong." Ben gestures with his free hand back to the house again and then looks at you, the sunlight catching the flecks of gold in his eyes like stars. "This is what you want Petals. This life. A house on a quiet street away from it all where you can garden and read and exist in a world that isn't fucked up with supes and compound V."

You’re speechless now, tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I’ve lived in a lot of different places and I forgot what it was like to have a home and for the longest time I didn’t understand what I was missing. I had money, I had fame, I had women willing to do whatever I wanted, and I had people worshipping me, but I was missing something.” He trails his thumb over your cheek again with a soft smile. “Turns out it was you. You’re fucking annoying, you get under my skin, you make me feel like a complete asshole when I make you cry, you somehow find some little thing to complain about when I do something for you-“

“Again why do you always sound like you’re insulting me whenever you try to confess how you feel?” You laugh, but it comes out more of a sob.

“Shut up.” Ben rolls his eyes with a sigh, but there’s not bite to his words. “You always interrupt me.”

“Because you always insult me!” You rub at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“I have told you on numerous fucking occasions that I’m not good with words!”

“But-“

“Shh.” He puts his hands on your cheeks. “You're so different than anyone I've ever met. You drive me fucking crazy. Any other man would have jumped off a building by now, but-“ He shakes his head with a wide smile. “I fucking love it and I'm so fucking lucky that you decided to love me."

"You didn't give me much choice. It was you that insisted on living in my shitty apartment." You breathe, your hands moving up the soft fabric of his t-shirt to rest against his chest. "I did my best to drive you away, but you wouldn't leave. And you call me stubborn."

"Nothing you could have done would have driven me away Petals." His hand falls to where yours rests on his chest, and gently holds your wrist. "Nothing you can do will drive me away. Not now, not ever."

The love in his eyes makes your lungs stop working. He was looking at you the way you always wanted someone to, as if he could see past flesh and bone and into your soul and saw your worth, as if Ben saw every little piece of you that you tried to hide and didn't care.

"And nothing that you've done will drive me away Ben." You whisper leaning in to him. "You can't change the past."

"I know." He swallows tightening his grip on your wrist. “And I know you keep saying that you don’t want me to pay for everything because you want to be more independent, and you’re worried that we can’t afford this, but fuck even if you told me you wanted to stay in that shitty apartment building, I’d buy the whole thing and make everyone leave just to make sure that you and our kid is safe."

Determination flickers in his eyes and you believe it, because you know that Ben would do anything for you.

"But I knew the moment I saw this house that this was what you wanted, that this life is what you've wanted. I know that you like to do things for yourself, but I didn’t buy the house because I didn't think that you couldn’t help me… it’s because I wanted to do this for you. I like doing things for you because I love you.”

"I love you too." You smile up at him a little misty eyed, but happy.

Ben's jaw tightens for a moment before he says his next words. "I'm not going to lie, I've imagined this kind of life before when I was with Countess."

You fight the wave of anger that surges with her name in your chest. You hated her for what she did to Ben and what she did to your grandmother, and wished that before Ben blew her to kingdom come, you had an hour with her to show her what it was like to get poison ivy shoved up her ass.

But it was unusual of Ben to mention her. He didn't often bring her up in conversation.

"I started imagining it after I visited Diana. I saw how happy she was with your grandfather and with your dad when he was a kid. I wanted that. But each time I tried to imagine what it was like with Countess, it never fit, something was wrong. And I know now that it's because it wasn't with you. It never looked like the life we have together and I wouldn't trade that for another second of fame."

"Ben-" You breathe his name, tears cresting over your cheeks.

"The moment I walked in the front door of this place I knew it was right. I knew this was the place that we were going to raise our children. I see us here too Petals. I see myself coming through the front door and you fucking tackling me because you can't wait long enough for me to close the door. I see us on the couch in front of the fire making love. I see you upstairs in the nursery painting the walls with paint in your hair even though I told you I was going to do it. I see you singing a fucking ABBA song while you rock our child in your arms. And I see you out here in this greenhouse doing what you love and me being happy because I know you're safe and I don't have to worry that I'm going to get home and you won't be there or worse." Ben's jaw tightens at the thought. "I want this with you for the rest of my life and I don't care if I sound like a fucking pussy for admitting that."

Ben drops down to one knee

"Wait what are you-" You begin to say, but Ben pulls a small box out of his pocket that makes you forget how to breathe entirely.

"So I’m asking you to let me give this to you and to our children, because I feel like I’m finally coming home and I don’t want to be anywhere else, just with you."

You stand there for a moment speechless, staring down at where Ben is on one knee. "Are you asking me to move in with you?" You try to smirk at your joke, remembering what Ben asked you the night he came home.

"No." Ben smiles opening the box. "I'm asking you to marry me."

You'd like to say that the ring is beautiful, but truthfully you don't look at it. As soon as the words are out of Ben's mouth you throw yourself against him so hard that he loses his balance and tumbles back onto the pavement, while catching you on top of him to make sure that no part of you hits the ground and make sure the baby is safe.

"Wha-" He begins to say, but you shut him up, your mouth falling against his so hard that you think that you hear the click of your teeth, but you can't stop.

Not when the man below you has your whole heart and had it the second you let him spend the night in your apartment all those months ago, not when he has been everything you needed for so long that the thought of him leaving would destroy you, and not when he is the only person in the world who sees all of you and asked for more.

Ben's body relaxes under yours as he deepens the kiss, drinking you in like he can't get enough, his hands coming up to hold you tighter against him, before he flips you over onto the ground as gently as he can so he's hovering over you. His dark hair is falling forward into his face, eyes bright with mischief, as he stares down at you.

"Is that a yes?" He smirks.

"It's a maybe." Your hands entwine at the back of his neck. "If you reconsider the hall pass option with Jeff Goldblum."

Ben kisses you so hard you see stars. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

"You know you love it, and I plan on annoying you for the rest of my life Gramps. You should get used to it."

"Do you promise Petals?" Ben breathes against your lips, eyes focused on yours.

"I promise. You're stuck with me."

"I can't imagine anything better sweetheart." He kisses you again, but pulls back with a unreadable expression. "Are you mad I lied?” He breathes against your lips.

“No. Because I lied too.”

“About what?” Ben looks confused.

“All of this. It isn’t what I imagined. It isn't what I thought falling in love would look like. It isn't what I expected and it's different than what I told you at that fundraiser.” Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck to hold him above you, refusing to let him go for even a second.

Ben's smirk drops into a worried frown that you kiss away, the warmth of his body around you like a warm bath.

“It’s better.” You breathe against his lips, watching the way his eyes brighten.

When he looked at you like that it made you feel like you'd swallowed the sun and it was bursting out of your fingertips. You never wanted to lose his lovelight and you wanted to spend the rest of your life being his.

The world outside the greenhouse falls away and you're left with Ben, the man you couldn't help but fall head over heels with the night you decided to take a chance.

A/N: I'm not crying, it's just raining on my face 😭. This reader and this version of Soldier Boy hold such a special place in my heart. Oh goodness I didn't think that we'd ever get here, but wow😊. This fic series wasn't just me writing, it was me being filled with the constant love and support of all of y'all helping me towards the goal and I am so grateful for everyone who reblogged, commented, liked, and loved the story just as much as I did 💗. I could not have done this without y'all. I am going to write a mini-series for them and I have some fic ideas for the two of them, so it is not goodbye completely, it's just I'll see you in a little while. Seriously though, thank you so much to everyone 🥰

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songmingisthighs · 15 hours ago

Text

[5.45] boyfriend!mingi × reader (ft. ateez, esp wooyoung)

⇀ birthday surprise gone horribly wrong

⇁ now ya'll know that i watch reddit stories videos on yt a wee bit too much

genre : angst

warning : mingi is a jerk, wooyoung likes butting in, public humiliation,

wc : 2.1 k

buy me coffee ?

"This party is so great!" Your friend squealed, giving you a side hug as you grinned widely in happiness. "I know!" you let her go to face your boyfriend, "And it's all thanks to Mingi," you leaned to kiss him on the lips but he looked away last minute and took a sip of his drink, causing you to miss his lips. "Don't sweat it," Mingi said, or more likely muttered. "I got to..." he trailed off before walking away, pointing at the direction of his friends.

It was odd for him to be so... quiet with you. It was rather worrying, actually.

Just as you were about to go over to ask Mngi what was wrong, your friend pulled you aside to a corner with an amused grin on her face. "A little birdie told me your boyfriend prepared a surprise," she excitedly whispered, almost squealing. "What? What are you talking about?" you blinked confusedly. "Well, I was talking to some of the girls who wanted to go home early because they live rather far but Wooyoung insisted that they stay because, as he said it, they're going to want to," she winked. Still confused, you narrowed your eyes at her, "And... why would that be? It's probably a cake or they want to perform a Britney Spears song in which it would make sense that Wooyoung would want them to stay." Exasperatedly, your friend scoffed and punched you lightly on your shoulder, "Dude! Mingi is going to propose to you!"

Though you didn't believe her, your face went red and you immediately shot the idea down, "No way! Are you crazy? We've been dating for like 7 months, I haven't even brought up the fact that my parents wanted to meet him! I've been so panicked over all this, I'm still thinking of ways to tell him," you huffed. In that moment, you looked sideways and your eyes met with Mingi. The way he was looking at you was like a smoulder, it sent chills down your spine due to its intensity. You shot him a smile and a small wave, hoping that Mingi would reciprocate in the creative, adorable ways he usually does. But this time, he simply pursed his lips and nodded once at you before averting his gaze, rendering you slightly confused but you try to let him be, thinking that maybe he was just over-stimulated due to the crowd of people in your place. Your friend simply shrugged, "I don't know, I know people who got married after 3 months because they just KNOW they're with the one. Or because they got knocked up, I guess. But anyway, I think something serious is happening down the line and I hope everyone's ready to see it."

"Hi everyone, thank you for attending (y/n)'s surprise party!" Wooyoung's voice caught everyone's attention almost immediately, "We have another surprise so can I please ask for your attention?" "Attention whore!" Yunho jokingly yelled from the back, causing the crowd to laugh and Wooyoung to flip him off. "Anyway, as I was saying before some BITCH cut me off, I'm really happy to see so many people here and I can only assume that it's a testament to how many people love (y/n) and if you agree, let's give a round of applause to her!" and the whole room erupted into roars of claps and people whooping you, rendering you shy as you drop your head and tried to hold in your mouth-ripping grin. The attention occupied your senses so much that you didn't realize that there was one person in the room who didn't join the mass, the one person who mattered most to you.

"That being said, I'm sure (y/n) reciprocates your love for her so in a way, we can say that (y/n) loves a lot of people," Wooyoung said and if you focus on his face, you could see a slight smirk blooming, almost taunting, "And recently we found out that there is a person that (y/n) seem to love a little bit more than others." When Wooyoung turned to cue something up with Mingi helping him, you managed to let the words sink in and when it settled, you found yourself confused. What was Wooyoung talking about? The only person who could have fit such a description was Mingi but he didn't look too happy right at that moment. But the biggest shock didn't come until the TV was turned on and you saw pictures of you that you've never seen before/

Wooyoung stepped back and grinned mischievously, "Now, we see just HOW MUCH (y/n) can love a person even if that person is not her boyfriend, my dear boy Mingi." He pressed on the laptop that was connected to the TV and showed a similar picture of you sitting in front of a guy who you had been seeing quite frequently. "Now you might be wondering, who is this well-dressed man? Where were they? What's going on here? Why were they meeting up?" There were at least three more pictures of the same situation from different angles and seeing them felt like you were being splashed with cold water. "Well, I think the right question should've been 'how long did they think they could hide this shit from her own boyfriend?' right?"

People around you started whispering while glancing at you, talking about the fact that you had just been caught cheating. The happy look on your face as you hugged the guy in the picture and the way you simply found comfort in his embrace was not making the situation any better. Honestly, the situation was worse because of it, especially for Mingi who was trying his best to not look at the pictures again. When Wooyoung came to him with those pictures, he didn't want to believe that you were cheating on him, someone as sweet as you, someone who had openly and verbally appreciated and loved him and even made a promise not to hurt him. That was a week ago and Mingi had had half a mind to cancel the birthday surprise party he had meticulously planned for you (it was mostly Yunho and Jongho because had it been left completely to Mingi, the party would just be two pizzas and some beer with streamers as decoration), but Wooyoung had another idea that he thought would be MUCH better. Wooyoung was looking proud of himself for revealing that while Mingi was glaring at you, looking visibly angry with the way he was breathing heavily. "Well, do you have anything to say to your BOYFRIEND, (y/n)?"

Your brain was on the verge of collapsing due to information rushing into your brain all at once, not knowing which, who, or where to address first.

It was then that the front door opened and closed and you heard people gasping in surprise.

How can they not? The guy in the picture in front of them was standing there with a gift in hand.

"What's going on?" he asked, confused, looking around at the people staring, pointing at him.

His voice seem to broke you out of your trance and your eyes immediately watered. Tears of embarrassment started pouring out of your eyes as you looked up at him.

"Seonghwa," you choked out, calling for him.

Seeing you in such a state, Seonghwa's eyes widened and he dropped the gift in panic, "(y/n), what's wrong? What happened?" Seonghwa was about to step forward to you when Wooyoung scoffed, "Of course he's here to hide in plain sight, throwing off people because who would imagine the accomplice to be together so blatantly, right?" Some people laughed at Wooyoung's jab and it was at that moment you completely broke and your dashed to your room. Once your door slammed shut, your best friend stepped up and pushed Wooyoung harshly, sending him reeling a few steps back. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" she screamed, "Why would you make a spectacle like this!?" Wooyoung huffed and regained his composure, but Mingi shot back at her, "Are you seriously condoning her action? She betrayed me and you think attacking Wooyoung is okay? It's bad enough she broke my trust, she HAD to have him here too?" Mingi spat as he jabbed his thumb at Seonghwa's direction.

Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed, "Excuse me?" Mingi finally stepped up and went face-to-face with Seonghwa and his 6 ft stature easily towered over Seonghwa. Despite that, Seonghwa didn't waver for a bit. "You have some nerve coming here. Don't you have some shame?" Mingi asked. Still confused, Seonghwa could only stare at Mingi in disbelief, "What are you talking about? (y/n) invited me, what do you mean I have some nerve?" "Can you blame (y/n)'s boyfriend when you were caught getting all cosy with (y/n) behind his back? What were you even trying to do anyway?" Wooyoung piped back up/

When Seonghwa averted his eyes to Wooyoung, he finally realized the picture of him hugging you on the screen. "I was congratulating her on how serious her relationship had become with her boyfriend and I was telling her that I'd have her back when she finally decided to introduce her boyfriend to her parents," he said matter-of-factly. At the mention of being introduced to your parents, Mingi's heart skipped a beat for a moment but he kept his resolve. "And which boyfriend were you talking about, Mingi or you?" Wooyoung smirked.

Almost immediately, Seonghwa's face scrunched into cringe and he reeled back as if he had just gotten hit, "Ew! I'm her cousin!"

The whole room froze, especially Mingi and Wooyoung who looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"What?" Mingi whispered, needing a confirmation.

"I'm (y/n)'s cousin. We met up because she asked me for my help to support her AND YOU when you go to meet her parents. They have been pressuring her and she thought she finally found someone she could bring home," realization dawned on Seonghwa and his initial confusion melted into disgust, "Now, I think she's wrong."

Wooyoung's eyes widened and so did Mingi's. They were left gaping like fishes out of the water, not knowing how to react as they processed the fact that they had just made themselves not only look like idiots but also assholes.

The sound of a door slamming was heard and you showed up with eyes red, cheeks wet, and bottom lip trembling. Surprisingly (to everyone and even himself), Mingi was the first one to rush to you, crouching to look you in the eyes but you simply looked to the side, avoiding his gaze. "Baby, are you okay? I-I'm- I- Can we talk?" It was practically pathetic that Mingi switched his demeanour so quickly, but it was the first thing that he could think of.

"Get me out of here," you croaked, the brokenness of your voice tugged the strings of Mingi's heart as the guilt of what he did started to accumulate. "You wanna get out of here? Okay, we can do it, I'll get you out. Where do you want to go to? I-I can find somewhere or do you somewhere in mind already? I know it's just-" "Seonghwa," You cut him off, ignoring him as you looked up straight to your cousin, "Please get me out of here."

You didn't have to say twice before Seonghwa rushed to you, pushing Mingi out of the way (obviously intentionally) to get you out. When you walked past him, Mingi finally saw the large bag you had in your hand and the sight served as concrete proof of how much he fucked up.

On your way out, Seonghwa managed to scoop the birthday present he had accidentally dropped and momentarily turned around to glare at Mingi, "I'm taking this because my favourite cousin deserves one good thing now after what you did and you can bet I'm turning this day around for her," he hissed before finally leaving with you who couldn't even spare one last glance at anyone else and no one could blame you.

Silence hung in the air for two minutes before guests started trickling out, muttering shit excuses like having a curfew or needing to relieve their cat-sitter until there were just your friends and Mingi's inside. Your friend glared at Mingi and Wooyoung with so much disgust, they might as well have been chin-deep in a vat of butcher scraps mixed with manure. "I hope you're fucking happy doing this on her birthday you sick fucks," she spat before turning and leaving, the other people in your friend group joining. After they all left, Yunho and Jongho stayed back, looking at their friends in disbelief because they never thought their friends could pull something like that.

"You couldn't have asked her first or gather more evidence?" Jongho asked, scoffing. Wooyoung flipped him off while Mingi let out a sharp exhale as he slid down the wall behind him, "Shut up man," he halfheartedly muttered.

Served him right.

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nick-writes-stuff · 2 days ago

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You and Me 'til the End, Right?

Kang Dae-ho x gn!reader

!warnings: canon-typical violence, descriptions of panic attacks and PTSD, manhandling/forced pat down (idk how to phrase that one), swearing, very hurt with eventual comfort

a/n: DAE-HO FIC TIME! HELL YEAH! I'm so down bad for this man. this is the iconic "helping dae-ho with his panic attack" fix-it fic bc holy shit he needs a hug. hope you enjoy <3

You had been fighting off an anxiety attack since Gi-hun and the others began their plan to usurp control of the games. You almost wanted to tell them not to do it. It likely wouldn't end well for all of you, and the idea that any of them could get hurt or worse scared you shitless.

You felt even more worried when Dae-ho volunteered to help. You could see from his face that he really didn't want to do it, but refusing was hardly what would be expected from an ex-marine. He didn't want to let anyone else down. Especially Jung-bae. If he was going, then how could he say no? Even though the idea of holding a gun again made him sick to his stomach.

You were observant, but you were especially observant of Dae-ho as you found it hard not to be entranced by his charm. This made you seem the little things he thought he masked well. During the six-legged race, you saw him flinch after every single shot fired. His gaze went distant, and his jaw clenched. One night while on watch, you heard him murmuring and tossing around in his sleep, clearly having a nightmare. He had never said it specifically, but you knew his time in the Marines had not been a happy one. Not at all. Which is what scared you about him volunteering for the ensuing gunfight.

As he started to walk toward Hyun-ju and Gi-hun, you grabbed his wrist to get his attention. He turned back to look at you.

"Be careful, okay?" You said softly.

He gave you a boyish smile. "Of course." He said. You could see how tense he was, however. He definitely wasn't 100% on board with this plan. You could tell from the way his hand trembled when he reached out for the gun.

Watching your strongest allies and closest friends walk out that door was one of the hardest things you have ever done. You couldn't even say proper goodbyes, and you didn't know if any of them were ever going to come back.

You started pacing back and forth after only a moment after they left. You couldn't just stand there. You needed to expel your nervous energy somehow. You also started absent-mindedly picking at your cuticles, a nervous habit you've had no success in breaking.

You didn't know how this was going to go. Sure, the players had the element of surprise, but they had a lot less resources than the guards. You could hear the echoes of gunshots from down the hall. They were far away, but they still made you feel uneasy. The guards could easily storm this room in retaliation.

After a few minutes, the other players had mostly returned back to normal, except most of them were now sitting behind some form of cover. You envied their ability to calm their emotions, but you also knew that, for the Os certainly, it was likely due to indifference. The more people who died in the rebellion meant the less competition and higher prize pool. The thought of it made you sick to your stomach. You couldn't imagine anyone being so callous about a human life, but the people in the games weren't the most morally upstanding.

You continued to pace, despite Jun-hee's half-hearted pleas for you to join them behind cover. You couldn't sit still right now. You were never able to handle anxiety well.

This continued on for a while. Eventually, Geum-ja said, "They are gonna wear holes in the floor at this rate." You didn't respond to her.

You glanced at the door, finally stopping when you saw Dae-ho walk back in. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You rushed over to him as he dropped down in front of the guard nearest the door.

He seemed frantic. He was trembling as he walked, hardly able to make it to his destination. You could hear him mumbling something, but you couldn't make it out. You felt your heart wrench watching him in this state.

You approached him cautiously. You didn't want to scare him more than he already was. "Dae-ho? What's going on?" You asked. He whipped his head up, fumbling around in the guard's pocket. "Why are you here by yourself?" You heard Player 7 chime in from behind you. Seems like you weren't the only one concerned.

"There's ammo in their pockets." He stammered, stuttering through the words. The man's eyes were both distant and wild at the same time. Like he was experiencing the worst thing imaginable, but his mind wasn't fully present either. "They ran out of ammo. I need to get it. Quickly." He said, his voice growing louder and more frantic. You turned back to look at Yong-sik and he nodded. The two of you sprang to action, alongside his mother and Jun-hee (as much as she could help.)

You laid out your jacket, and you all set the magazines on top of it. It would let him carry it out without the risk of dropping them. Yong-sik folded up the fabric and handed it to Dae-ho. "I think this is all of it." He said. Dae-ho stuttered out a thank you before grabbing the stockpile and walking out toward the hall.

You resumed pacing without even thinking about it. Eventually, you winced and looked down to realize you had pulled a hangnail and made your finger bleed. You looked to see Dae-ho running back into the room with his hands clamped over his ears. His eyes looked far away.

"Dae-ho, what happened?" Yong-sik asked. He didn't even acknowledge the man spoke. He just went to go sit on a bed. You met Yong-sik's eyes before taking a deep breath. You were terrified. You couldn't deny that. But if it meant sparing Dae-ho from that traumatic experience, you would do it for him. You started walking toward the door saying, "I'll go. I'll go run it out to th-"

"No! Please don't! You can't, please!" Dae-ho called out, panicking at the thought of you putting yourself in danger. His breathing quickened, gripping his hair tightly with his fingers.

You turned on your heel, taking in a sharp inhale. You couldn't do that to him. You would never forgive yourself if you didn't make it back. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to lose another important person in his life. You walked to him without hesitation.

He sat against the wall, knees pressed against his chest. His hands were clamped over his ears, rocking back and forth slightly.

You stood at the foot of the bed. "Dae-ho?" You called out, not wanting to scare him. His frightened eyes looked up at you. "Can I sit?" You asked. He didn't respond for a few seconds, but he eventually gave a small nod.

You sat on the foot of the bed near him. His breathing was still fast and shallow. You tested the waters by lightly brushing your arm against his shin. He didn't react to that. You decided to try the techniques that worked to calm you during a panic attack. You had been so used to Dae-ho being your rock during your times of anxiety that this was unfamiliar territory for you.

You started by lightly tapping on the top of his shoe at an even pace. You knew that having some rhythmic stimuli could be grounding during your panic attacks. You soon transitioned it to gently running your hand up and down his shin. You synced that motion to your own breathing, trying to model deep breaths for him to follow.

The only time you said anything was when the echoes of the gunfire carried into the room. Anytime it happened, he would start breathing faster and tensing up. He pushed his hands over his ears hard enough that you thought it was probably hurting him. When this would happen, you would move your hand to his shoulder. "Hey. It's okay. You're safe, okay? I'm right here with you," You murmured, soft eyes meeting his wide ones.

After a few moments, he would relax slightly, and you would resume the motion you were doing before. You found that in the longer stretches of silence in between the gunfire, he would start to shakily match your breathing, but any progress made would be erased once he heard it again.

This happened a few times before you saw Hyun-ju run back into the room. "Dae-ho?" She called out, not sure if he was in the room. Yong-sik and his mother pointed in the direction of the two of you. She looked in disbelief at him before marching over there.

You gave her a pleading look, shaking your head. You understood she was probably angry for him abandoning the mission without a word, but this wasn't the right time to do this. She came over, reaching her hand to grab onto the bedframe above the bed you were on.

Dae-ho flinched back violently at her movement. You felt your heart drop at the sight. Did he... did he assume she was gonna hit him? You tried not to start crying at the ramifications of that action. He had to have had something like that happen to him in the past. How could anyone do that to him? You couldn't fathom it. Life can be so cruel sometimes. No one deserves that.

"Dae-ho. What happened?" She demanded, her voice stern. You wanted to ask her to leave, tell her to lay off for a second. But you knew she wouldn't leave because her anger was justified in the moment. How many people died because of the ammo running out? But how could she blame him for this? He was clearly going through hell right now both in reality and in his mind.

He started hyperventilating, muttering out repeated apologies without looking her in the eye. She looked taken aback by his reaction. You looked up at her and shook your head. "Not now. Please." You said softly. Her gaze softened before she turned and walked away.

You weren't expecting all hell to break loose in a matter of moments. The large rolling door in the front of the room slammed open. Pink soldiers rushing into the room, one shooting into the air. Dae-ho cried out, starting to tremble violently. "Dae, it's okay. It's okay, I promise." You said, but your voice betrayed you as it shook from your own nerves.

"Everyone! On your stomachs, now!" A guard with a square mask ordered. You looked back at him. "Hey, can you do that for me? Lay down on your stomach, okay?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm. He didn't react. You grimaced. "Dae, I need you to get on your stomach right now, okay? Please, it's really important. Just for a minute, okay?" you begged, willing your tears to not drop from your eyes.

The triangle guards quickly approached the players. All were on the floor except the two of you. You watched as they searched the others, confiscating the guns from behind Hyun-ju's cover.

One guard walked up to the two of you. "On your stomach. Now." He demanded. You looked up at the triangle. "Please, sir. He's not in his right mind. He doesn't have anything, just let h-" You pleaded, being interrupted by him pointing the gun at you, finger ready on the trigger. You instinctively raised your hands, sliding off the bed and onto the floor.

You finally broke and started crying when you didn't hear Dae-ho move. "Dae, please." You cried out. The guard motioned for another to join him. Luckily, you didn't have to see it, but the two of them forced him to get on his stomach to pat him down. Hearing it was probably worse. He was crying, as well as wailing apologies and begging for his and your safety. It was too hard for you to listen to.

Just as quickly as they stormed the room to take control of it, they took all of the guns and ammo and left the room. No one knew what was going to happen, but you knew what you were going to do. You got up and started to lay on the bed next to him. He instantly understood what you were trying to do. He moved to bury his face into the side of your neck, arm draped across your waist.

In any other situation, you would be a blushing mess in this position, but you didn't have the time to overthink this. You two were close, but you didn't think you had been this close before to justify this intimate gesture. But you both just went through a lot together. The last 20 minutes had felt like you had just spent years with each other.

One of your hands found its way into his hair, gently running your fingers through it. Your other hand rubbed up and down his arm, once again matching the rhythm to your deep breathing. You continued to whisper to him softly, hoping it did something to calm him down. "Dae, it's okay. You're safe. Try to match my breathing if you can."

The doors rolled open again, but this time, he didn't jump to look at the noise. You took that as a sign that he was starting to relax. You looked over to see what was going on, just to see the forklifts carrying the black wooden coffins. You hated them. Putting the red bows on it felt like one final slap in the face. The soldiers began going to the bodies and scanning the chips in their ear. Player elimination announcements started over the PA system. You also noticed they were scanning the guards' masks, but there was no announcement. Maybe the guards weren't treated so differently than the players.

You rested your chin on the top of his head. You hoped it would stop him from turning to look. He didn't need to see that right now.

While listening to the announcements intently, you realized that the players who left to fight were also being scanned. You heard an announcement for Player 246, who you knew went out with the others. That put you on edge, but you tried not to physically react so as not to alert Dae-ho.

However, he was also listening closely to the announcements. He may not have seemed like it, but he was hanging on the robotic voice's every word.

You both were dreading hearing a specific number. You mentally pleaded with whatever higher power out there to not hear the three words that would break him even more than he was.

But life can be so cruel.

"Player 390, eliminated."

Dae-ho let out a strangled sob, starting to cry and tremble in your arms. You started crying as well, but you tried not to let him know that. You were crying for two reasons. Jung-bae was a close friend here, but you were mostly crying because of Dae-ho. Your empathy was overwhelming you. This isn't fair. Why does he have to go through this? He doesn't deserve it. Your best friend was going through hell right now, and you were so mad at the universe for subjecting him to this.

Soon after, you heard an announcement for Young-il, but you think Dae-ho was too absorbed with his grief to hear it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. It's my fault, I'm sorry." He started repeating. He was having trouble getting the words out through his tears.

"Hey, hey. It's not your fault, okay? None of this is your fault." You said back. You wished you could make him believe that, but you knew that would be a fruitless endeavor. This situation wasn't one you could just get over easily. This was likely something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. And you vowed that you would be there to help him through it whenever he needed you.

You didn't know how long you stayed like this. It had to have been hours. Eventually, he calmed down enough that he wasn't constantly trembling, but he didn't move from that position. At some point, you heard him start to snore softly. You almost cried upon hearing it. You were just so happy that he felt safe enough with you that he trusted to watch over him.

And that you did. You tried to stay awake as long as you could. There was one time in the night when he started to tense up, mumbling something in his sleep. His breathing was quicker and more shallow. He was clearly having a nightmare. You started running your hand up and down his back, your other hand carding through his hair. You hushed him quietly. "It's okay, Dae. You're safe. Go back to sleep, okay?" You murmured. Eventually, he relaxed once again. You gave a slight smile at this. Against your will, you too drifted off to sleep soon after.

You woke up to the lights turning on with a bright intensity. Apparently, after the excitement of the evening before, no one felt like repeating the brawls that had become commonplace. You all knew that the gamemakers weren't messing around anymore. They were getting ready to start handing out breakfast.

You gently shook Dae-ho's shoulder. "Dae? It's time to get up, okay?" You said softly.

He slowly started to wake up. He pulled away rather abruptly when he noticed the position the two of you were in. His face was beet red, but he didn't say anything. He got out of the bed and stood up shakily. You followed him after, letting yourself take a large stretch and a yawn.

His gaze still seemed intense, but he was definitely calmer than he was the night before. You tried to gauge how he was feeling with small talk. "It looks like they are passing out breakfast." You said before looking up at him, asking, "What do you think it'll be?" He looked over at you, but he didn't say anything.

You didn't show any disappointment at his lack of response. You knew he probably wasn't feeling up to it, and that was totally fine. You didn't want to shame him for that. "Personally, I think they should give us that soboro bread. That was surprisingly good." You said. He gave a weak smile and nodded, something that brought a smile to your face.

"We should probably go get in line." You suggested. He looked at the group of players before back at you. "We could always wait and get in line once everyone gets their food." You offered. He didn't acknowledge your statement, so you assumed you would just wait.

Once a majority of the players went through the line, he held out his hand to you. You couldn't stop the blush rising to your face, but you smiled and grabbed his hand. You walked over with him, hand in hand.

When you walked back, you took a moment to scan the room for your allies left. Geum-ja and Yong-sik were talking with Jun-hee and Myung-gi like normal. Hyun-ju's gaze was intense and her body was tense. She noticed you staring at her and turned her gaze to give you a slight glare. You frowned and looked back to Dae-ho, glad he wasn't looking toward her. You sat down against the wall, tapping the spot next to you to beckon him to sit. He hesitantly slid down the wall.

You tried not to be distracted by how close you were, but every time your shoulders brushed against each other, you felt electricity flood your body. You opened the bag, mildly disappointed when you saw it was just a hard-boiled egg and a carton of milk. "Damn." You muttered under your breath.

Dae-ho hesitantly opened the bag, taking the food out and just staring at it for a moment. You wouldn't be surprised that he didn't have an appetite, but it was important for him to eat regardless. Before you could urge him to eat, he started to unwrap the egg. This brought a smile to your face. You ate your own food.

Dae-ho passed you his carton of milk. "For last night." He said, turning to look at you.

You shook your head. "How many times did you help calm me down? I was a wreck after Mingle. Call it even." You said before taking a sip of your own milk.

He pushed the carton toward you again. "Last night was different. It looks like you hardly slept." He said quietly.

You looked up at him, gently grabbing his wrist and pushing it away from you. "No. It's fine." You insisted, a light smirk on your face.

He relented. He gave a slight smile at your persistence before opening it and taking a drink of the milk.

After a few moments of silence, he looked over at you. "Thank you. For everything."

You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in a look of confusion. "That's what friends are for, right?" You said softly.

He took a tense breath. "I've never really had someone who would do that for me." He said, looking away with a light pink dusting on his cheeks.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You knew that he didn't have the best upbringing, so while you felt bad that he didn't have that support growing up, you felt some sense of honor that you were able to earn his trust. You smiled softly. "I'd do anything for you." You said.

He looked back at you with wide eyes. He nodded his head. He nudged your shoulder lightly. "You and me 'til the end, right?" He said quietly.

You grinned and nodded back. "I wouldn't have it any other way." You replied.

You both knew what you were agreeing to. You two were the last ones from the alliance formed before the six-legged race. You had his back, and he had yours. No matter what, you were both getting out of here together. You didn't say the words, but the love you two had for each other was evident.

You finished off your milk carton before yawning. You leaned your head on his shoulder. It gave him instant butterflies in his stomach.

"I think I know how we can settle our scores." He said.

You looked up at him. He had a mischievous glint in his eye, something that brought you some needed relief. "They are already settled, but continue." You said.

"Take a nap while we have the time. I'll watch out for you." He said.

You nodded. "You don't need to tell me twice." You said with a laugh.

You leaned against his shoulder with another yawn. You grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers. You let your eyes close, and it wasn't long until he felt your breathing deepen.

He looked down at you with a smile. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before leaning his head against yours. He absent-mindedly rubbed the back of your thumb with his own.

He still wasn't feeling one hundred percent yet, and there was a lot more he needed to work through for himself. But he would try to be his best for you. And he was sure he would fight tooth and nail to get you both out of here.

#nick writes stuff #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #squid game x you #kang dae ho x reader #dae ho x reader

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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Aw welcome back, Wayne!! 😘 I'm so happy to hear that you've been thinking of this series. 🥰 And I'm so excited to see what you thought of Part 2...

I'm so in love with their little bonding sessions. Being stuck inside a cabin and playing games? I want that 😍

Aww it's the little moments with Dean that I would so love -- along with just being snowed in, in a cabin with him. 😏

And lol it's gotta be so awkward for true mates when they're still strangers. I absolutely adored her thought process throughout 😆

Lolll YEP exactly. 😆 Like, realistically how do you broach that conversation with someone? I'm glad you liked that attempt to inject some realism there. 🤣

Love how Dean doesn't realize he's oversharing and that his whole childhood might not have been normal 😂

ahaha Dean got so into his story he didn't realize he was giving himself away there! Bit of a rookie move, but she's his literal soulmate, so he's probably a little distracted. 🤪

And oh God, all those journal entries 😭😭😭 I know they're from the OG journal, but it just rips my heart right out again rereading it 😢 Those portray John's despair and heartbreak way better than the show did...

Girl I had never read the official journal, and it hit me in the feels in just the same way. 😭 I had that exact same thought -- that they served to humanize John and explain why he became the way he was with the boys way better than the show did.

Ooooh, let's think about it, shall we? 😏 Her dad might have totally been snatched by something supernatural. Considering their location and how it happened in her memories, it might have been a Wendigo?? 🤔

Ooh you're red-hot! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Dude! Goosebumps! Wendigos scare the shit outta me 🙈 It's still why The Descent is the scariest movie for me. I die from a heart attack every time 😂 🫣

ooooh my God, I haven't seen The Descent, but if it's anything like the Wendigo episode, than I don't wanna know. 😭 Legit when I was first starting to watch SPN I had to take a break after that episode -- and it was only episode 2!! 😩

No! Alex!!!! YOU KNOW THIS IS WHY I HATE SNOOPING Girl, you're killing me here... 😆😆

LOLL I love that you referenced Smoke Eater -- it's those same vibes from Part 8, isn't it? I have a little less sympathy for the reader in this situation, but she is ultimately sorry for going through his private journal/invading his privacy to the nth degree. 😅

OMGG I LOVED that gif of the little polar bear. 🥹🥹 Took me right out with the cuteness lmao. I laughed so hard at all your commentary with the reader and her lack of bear knowledge. 😝

N'aw, I know it was necessary but poor bear – wrong place, wrong time for the fella 🥺💔

Aww I know, I felt bad for writing that part. Poor Ted. 😭😭

My heart is full 😭❤️❤️❤️ (Also, I doubt he can ever stand to let her go her own way after this lmao)

Ha! You're right about that one. I just love me some protective Alpha Dean. 😏

Huh. Never eaten bear before... Never even thought about it before lol Also seems like something the Shaws would've done 😂

Me either lmao, but I've read about people who actually hunt for a living who survive off bear, caribou, bison, etc. I imagine it's a hard way to live, but omg yeah I could see Ashton making his kids learn how to shoot, but them not wanting to shoot a bear or a deer. 😭

Omg I love that ending! Dean's finally coming around, and she's putting the puzzle pieces about her dad together. I wonder what Dean will do when he hears the full story? Would he go hunt the thing? Is it even still out there??? Questions upon questions... 🤔

Aw I'm glad! Yesss it's about time with him lol. Good thing all your questions there will be answered in Part 3...

So excited for the next part!! I'm loving this story and everything you've put in it, and the dynamic between them is amazing. So well done, friend 😍🩵🩵

Aw thank you so much, my friend!! I tried to balance the slower "getting to know you" parts with some of this actiony/dramatic stuff as they slowly grow closer. 🥰💜💜

Also, don't think I forgot about the last two chapters of Polaris. I'm so looking forward to diving into those chapters soon!! 😘

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart.

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.”

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear?

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you.

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest.

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore.

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze.

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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numberonetacostan · 2 days ago

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TACO'S TIRADE ANALYSIS

OKAY! It is time for the requested analysis of Taco’s Tirade. This is my first time doing a big analysis of like, anything, so I’m very sorry if this is the worst take on the song of all time or if everything I’m saying is obvious!! Can anyone tell i'm nervous about posting this lol. I have a lot of thoughts about Taco and her Tirade. I love it so much. Feel free to imagine me gesturing wildly with tears in my eyes as you read this. We’ll go in sections based on the lyrics and visuals :) Lyrics will be inside brackets, then commentary will be below! Please enjoy!! <3

Tw: slight discussion of suicidal ideation

[Any moment now...

Are you sure this is what you want?

(Scoff) Oh spare me your spin, you tablet tabloid. If you want to psychoanalyze someone, don't look at me.]

Alright, so we immediately see Taco still in a very emotional state. Mepad asking if she’s sure she wants to interfere with the challenge immediately provokes her, and starts her off on her entire tirade. Because he asked if she was sure. She immediately insults him and moves to change the subject and get his attention off of herself and her own mental well-being. She’s very in-denial of her own emotions and emotional pain in this song, as we’ll see going forward, and remains quite defensive for a lot of the song.

[Look at them! It's so pathetic,

How they run to fetch their sticks.

Sure, call me polemic, unsympathetic,

At least I know other tricks!]

We start here with her, as I stated, changing the subject and shifting the view onto the contestants figuratively and somewhat literally, as they’re all seen picking up the sticks for the challenge, although she still remains the main focus of the shot. We move to her dancing around Mepad, who takes up the center of the shot, but Taco is still the focus here!! She’s moved from deflecting conversation to the contestants to, in a way, defending herself, despite Mepad not having insinuated anything yet. Taco is calling herself polemic and unsympathetic here, not only because she thinks that of herself, what with her abysmal self-esteem that we see more of later in the song, but because she thinks that’s what Mepad thinks of her. Not only do her only other two friends ever hate her (I wouldn’t go that far for Mic, but that’s definitely what Taco thinks), but the rest of the season 1 cast don’t seem to think too highly of her either, yeah? Mephone certainly isn’t happy to see her soon after the song ends, and season 2 contestants like Mic and Suitcase have been shown to be wary of her before they’ve even met her. (She doesn’t know about the season 3 cast so they don’t really matter here.) The point being, Mepad is Mephone’s right hand (leg?) man, and Taco doesn’t know about their argument, so she’s pretty reasonably assuming that Mepad dislikes her just as much as everyone else does. So, she’s saying what she thinks he’s thinking about her before he can!! Forgive me for not knowing the technical name for it, but this is an actual way of deflecting criticism!! I’ll use an example. Say you made a drawing of a person, a little stick guy, but the proportions are off. One of their legs are way bigger than another, but you still want to post it anyway. To keep people from telling you that one leg is bigger than another, you might say “here’s my stick dude!! One leg is bigger than another but I’m too lazy to fix it.” By stating the potential criticism before anyone else can, it makes others MUCH less likely to comment on it themselves!! And that’s what I believe Taco is doing here!!! I hope I explained that well enough. She then goes on defending herself, self-justifying by saying she at least “knows other tricks.” I read this as her doing things outside the game, and it’s limits. That could be her acknowledging how she doesn’t play by the rules of the competition like they do, but I see it as a note of the hypocrisy/lying to herself we see from Taco in the song. And!! In the transition to the next verse, she has her eyes closed!! Which happens everytime we travel in and out of that purple-y space! We are seeing Taco’s inner image here people!!!!!

[Look at me and all you'll see is the debris of some defective outcast,

A frenetic, antithetic (if poetic) little iconoclast,]

Here we have Taco insulting herself more! Yay! She’s getting more emotional as we get into the song, and she becomes less and less able to keep her usually sturdy walls up. She’s just lost Mic, and as I’ll go over later in the analysis, is expecting she will be permanently dead relatively soon. Of course she’s having a lot of trouble keeping it together! You know how sometimes, if you’re trying not to cry and someone asks if you’re okay, it makes you burst into tears? It’s like that! Mepad asked if she was sure, and the dam began to break. So, the descriptors she uses tell us a lot about her view of herself!!! Debris. Broken remains of what was. That’s pretty accurate to how Taco is feeling right now. She’s drowning in debris, really! The debris of her old, broken friendships, the debris of her master plan to win season 1, and it’s to the point where she sees herself as broken and incomplete as well. She believes she’s broken!!! And that leads us right into her calling herself defective. Imperfect or faulty. She’s very separated from everyone else, yeah? Everyone else (to her knowledge) lives in the hotel. Everyone else is part of the group. Everyone else has people who care about them. Everyone else happily plays by the rules of the game. After everything, compared to everyone else? No wonder she sees herself as incapable of changing, she believes there’s something just, deeply wrong with her as a being. If everyone else can do this and have this, she has to be the problem. And almost right after she started putting forth that effort to get Mic to trust her, focusing on someone other than herself, Mic left her. Rightfully so, but please it is so important to think of it from Taco’s perspective rather than Mic’s in this analysis. Taco was trying to give Mic what she thought she wanted (recognition), trying to be a good friend, and it immediately lost her the most important person in her life. She’s been watching for years, she sees everyone else making strong connections, but she can’t do it when she tries. And before that, it’s her plan failing. Like Brian said in a stream, it was inconceivable to her that her plan would fail. Yet it did. And after a long enough time alone out in the woods, there isn’t anyone left to blame for that but herself. She was the reason her plan had failed, and she’d lost everything. Of course she’d see herself as defective. Outcast is pretty obvious, because she checks all of those boxes. Lives hidden, alone, and very much away from everyone else. She is very very much not part of the group anymore.

Frenetic!! Fast, wild, and uncontrolled. Frankly, something you’d be more likely to describe Taco’s season 1 persona with, yeah? It’s quite different from how Taco usually tries to present herself, being cunning and calculating around others. But of course, the further we get into the song, the more honest Taco unintentionally can get about how she sees herself. She had her whole plan for season 1 down, but it was in the end where she lost control over the situation in which she lost control of herself in which she lost everything. It was in the ship, where something she didn’t and realistically couldn’t have planned for happens that she once again lost control of the situation and thus control of herself, and used violence despite Mic’s plea not to, in which she lost everything again. Of course she’d see herself as wild and uncontrollable, because moments in which she was are standout moments of her life! Not to mention again, how she’s the contestant who tried to steal the prize and cheated in season 2. For better or for worse, she’s much less controlled by the rules of the game than the other contestants. Just another thing that separates her from the group, yeah? Antithetic!!!! In direct opposition to something. And the following word as well, iconoclast, an attacker of a beloved institution or beliefs. She’s against the game that everyone else plays again and again, something that really matters a lot to them, but we see in the show and especially in the finale that the game isn’t good for them. As much as it’s not always for quite the right reason and exactly how she ends up going about it, she has a strong point about the game itself and what it can do to all of them. But she still sees herself as the villain. Despite her genuine, and correct, belief that ending the game will make things better for everyone, she still sees herself as the villain!! And it’s an image of herself that she’s had for a long time, and that she can’t shake after everything, because she doesn’t believe she can be anything else. And I did not forget how she mentions herself as being “poetic!” Whether that’s her believing in “karmic justice” or whatever and that she got what was coming with her, or believing her role as a season 1 finalist who’s come back out of the shadows to try and end season 2, it is one of the few neutral adjectives she uses for herself in the song. It might even be her previous popularity and persona she’s referencing here, that antitheticism and iconoclasm being how she went from a silly, well-loved character to a serious, well. She’s still loved out of canon but none of the people she knows like her at all. She’s the antithesis of what she used to be, and her coming out of the act destroyed the beloved image of who she had pretended to be.

As for the visuals here, how the scene fades back into her and Mepad is so important! She falls off of a cliff into darkness!! A very clear visual representation of how she sees things having gone. After her fight over the suitcase with OJ in the s1 finale, she kept falling and falling and falling, deeper down into the dark hole she’s dug herself, until she’s landed right where she is as she’s singing. Not only that, but this visual is another excellent representation of how she sees things as over for her. How she sees herself as incapable of changing, starting over, or getting better at all. Think about the cliff we know of on the island. Now think about who actually fell off that cliff at the end of season 1. Think about what happened to them. They all DIED!!! And she is picturing herself falling off this cliff!! I doubt this was intended to be a sign of suicidal ideation for her, since ii does have a younger target demographic (ex. Justy said in a stream that OJ and Paper sleeping in the same bed would be a bit too mature), but it can definitely be read that way. Seeing herself as “dead” in a way revolves around that disbelief in self-improvement she has, she thinks it’s too late for her in the same way it’s too late to save someone who’s died!!! And if anyone is questioning whether the scene is just a visual effect or if it’s definitely Taco’s inner picture-y thing, please note her closed eyes during the transition from her falling from the cliff to standing with Mepad!! She is picturing these visuals as she sings!!

[But I won't live in the past.

(Spoken) I almost won this game once, you know. But!]

So we all agree that Taco is totally living in the past, right? She’s saying she’s moved on, she’s telling Mepad and herself that the past doesn’t matter and that she doesn’t care about it, and then immediately she mentions how she almost won before. She has not healed at all, and is not over a single thing that happened!!! She is doing so awful I love her <3. She longs for everything she’s lost constantly, because she’s lost everything!!!!!

[History is rearranged just to credit those who win the glory,

So reality is changed in the edit when they spin the story,]

So!!! Interestingly enough, I think that these lines are quite a bit about the disparities between OJ and Taco!! So, Taco had a whole strategy going into season 1 that got her into the finals, and had it not been for Bow, she would have won! She’d planned meticulously, and in the s1 finale is shown to have great physical capabilities, at least to the point to which she was able to get way ahead of OJ. And, while this may be by great bias towards Taco speaking at least in part, OJ… did not go to such lengths. Don’t get me wrong though, this is definitely a thing. It’s brought up in the show that he wasn’t a huge player in the game! Multiple times!!! S1E15 “The Tile Divide,” after OJ wins immunity with help from Paper Mephone4 says “OJ wins! Wow, that hasn’t happened for a while.” And in S1EP16 “The Penultimate Poll,” Pickle says “-even though [OJ] barely actually won any challenges.” Yet after all is said and done, Taco is outcasted, has nothing, and is disliked by pretty much everyone, and OJ is hailed as the “King of Inanimate Insanity”, is rich, and becomes the de facto group leader with his hotel. The way the narrative has been spun does certainly glorify OJ beyond his actual performance in the competition. And with OJ having his massive ego problems, I don’t doubt that he definitely let that get to his head and contributed to that narrative himself.

And in this shot we have Taco looking down at the hotel from the forest, the same way she’s looking down on everyone participating in the game and how she’s been watching Mic (and presumably Pickle) from the outside. Only now, she’s even further away from them.

[And we choose, to feel this pain,]

Taco denying her emotions again!!!! She likes to be in control, and she can not control her feelings nor keep pushing them down as she has been, so she’s onto deny deny deny!! She is in a lot of pain, and she knows it, so she deflects by saying she’s choosing to feel the pain of her losses. She’s keeping up her act, her defense, by desperately holding on and pretending she has control over these feelings!! I’m certain she’s tried to control them!! To justify herself, replace loneliness with anger, but it hasn’t worked!!! And her defensiveness is reflected in the visuals as well, her putting her hand up to keep a distance between her and Mepad, her still stubbornly keeping up those walls and forcing him away as he looks concerned for her.

[And we lose, more than we gain…]

OH BOY TIME TO LOSE MORE THAN WE GAIN. I use this phrase daily. I'm serious. A pretty obvious reference to Mic having said she gained nothing, and also an acknowledgement that their partnership truly meant something to Taco and is still greatly affecting her. Which is obvious to the audience, but not only is Mepad learning things about Taco and her issues through the song, but we really see Taco starting to fall apart, accidentally implying the feelings that she’s so desperate to keep down!! She’s like a trauma volcano <3. Anyways, Taco had gained a lot when she’d met Mic, even if it took her quite some time to realise, and by the time she did she’d lost it all, again. AS FOR THE VISUALS we once again move into Taco’s head!! The transitions here for the beginning and end of this short sequence have her with her eyes closed!! She’s walking, and hard stops when she sees Pickle and the time travel portal. You see her little feet slide to a stop on her heels! She leans away from him, leans towards him just a tad, and immediately turns and walks away, only to see Mic. She hard stops when she sees Mic too, though it’s less extreme than it was for Pickle. And when she does this, she reaches a hand out towards Mic. It’s for a few reasons I think. Holding it out to try and keep that hurt away, protect her from her thoughts of missing Mic and how much she must hate her, fully reaching out because she misses Mic dearly and that pain is so fresh, reaching out to the person she’s been so close to, closer than anyone before. Another part of it, I think, is how her conflicts with both Pickle and Mic went. With Pickle, Taco was the one who insulted him, claimed they were never friends, and cut things off. Thus, she hard stops when she sees him, only leans a bit closer to him, before turning around and walking away. With Mic, Taco was the one who was left this time. Mic cut things off with her. So she’s left reaching out to Mic, as Mic’s image leaves the screen, and Taco collapses onto her knees where she is. Taco’s left on the ground, squeezing her eyes closed and clutching her head as the darkness in the background, the darkness in Taco’s head closes in on her, until she closes her eyes and jumps straight back into her villain act, the song speeding up with her as she keeps trying to get away from all of her feelings!!! My queen with awful coping skills <3.

[But I will break this cycle,

Of mistakes, unlike all,

Of these snakes whom I call to condemn,]

So! We see Taco hard cutting from her guilt and sadness, straight into her evil plan. Right back into her villain front as she realises she’s begun to open up and get emotional!!! So she’s explaining her plan to Mepad, and projects her own self-hatred and experiences very hard onto the contestants. She’s upset about what happened between her and Mic and sees the game as at fault for what happened as she’s trying to justify things to herself, and push down the guilt she feels about their split. Heck, I’d say she’s probably blaming the game for what happened between her and Pickle right now, even if that one is more on her. And she sees the final four as complacent in what the game does, with them all continuing even though none of them are even enjoying themselves anymore. Most of them haven’t been enjoying themselves for a while now, but they still stay in line and play, as they’re programmed to. This is a bit off track, but it’s important to keep in mind that at this point, Taco has been acting more outside of her programming for longer than any of the other contestants. She was never in whatever sort of waiting-mode they end up in inside the hotel, and she’s cared less and less about the rules of the game as time has gone on. Her plot in the first season was done fully inside the rules of the game, but we see her having broken out of those constraints in season 2, with her encouraging Mic to straight up attack other contestants, which is implied by Taco to be against the rules. And she keeps interfering against those same rules of the competition. Like Marsh breaking the rules by leaving the show’s parameters, Taco explicitly goes against what is meant to happen in the game. And here she is at the peak of that, having gone from breaking the rules of the game to wanting to break the game, the cycle of mistakes, entirely. Her calling the remaining contestants “snakes” of all things specifically is interesting as well, since I’m sure plenty of the season 1 cast would use that to describe Taco. Part of it is her projecting, but another part of it is her actually seeing her own mistakes in the remaining contestants. Keeping secrets from each other (Knife), never properly talking out interpersonal issues (Suitcase & Baseball), and plain loneliness (Lightbulb). And she’s condemning them for their complacency in all of it, for their actions, most certainly in part with her efforts to ignore her own feelings and as well to call out how the game changes people and makes them act.

[If I can't win the prize,

I'll play this last reprisal,

Just to bring their lies all to an end.

-Ack!]

The first line here is more of Taco playing up her villain act. She mentions later on in the episode, while she’s being more honest since it’s surrounding Mic territory, to the final four that she doesn’t care about the money anymore. And I really believe she doesn’t! She’s broken out of that programming after having connected with Mic. She was one of the contestants, if not the contestant, made to be most dedicated to getting that money, so of course she mentions it as she’s still desperately keeping up her front!!! But she says in the very next line that this is her “last reprisal,” she clearly doesn’t intend to interfere or interact with the game again, much less try to swoop in and steal the million. And the last reprisal line is very important!!!! Notice how in the visuals, Taco lets herself fall out of a tree as she says this and upon landing she’s hurt by her injury. There is symbolism here guys!!!!!!! She is letting herself fall here. In her eyes, she doesn’t have anything left to fight for anymore. She’s lost the people important to her, she’s lost any goals she’d had driving her forward, and she hates herself!! She knows she’s injured, and that her injury could very well be lethal, as we see later in the episode, but she’s doing nothing to minimize the risk to herself. She’s not going to sit away and let herself feel and process, she’s going to burn the game down and die with it!!!! This, my friends, is called passive suicidal ideation and self-destructive behavior!!!!! And her facade starts to falter again and she mentions bringing their lies to an end!! Because she is lying to herself, and she herself is not ready to stop holding on to her lies, either to herself or to others in her persona. Bringing the game and all the lies tangled up in it to an end means she would finally have to face everything, and just thinking about that is enough to wipe the villainous grin off her face. But she’s still stubbornly going through with her plot, because she isn’t truly expecting she’ll have to face it, again because she is fully expecting to die permanently in the near future!!!!

[You need regeneration.

Unfortunately, I don't have much faith in that process.

Of course not.

Why "of course not?".

You believe yourself to be incapable of starting over, in more ways than one. I do not know who you lost, but is it not possible to get them back?]

MEPAD TIME!!!! Okay, here we have Mepad (rip king you would have loved the storyboards of your own death) urging Taco to heal!!! He’s looking out for her physical well-being, he can tell that she’s in pain and that her injury is quite dangerous, that being especially obvious the way he emphasises “need” in the line. And he is implying that she needs emotional healing as well!! He starts his Therapad-ing in his next line!! <3 He is very clearly worried about her, a lot of his presence in the first half of the song is just him looking at Taco with big concerned eyes!!!

And Taco has zero faith in the recovery process, between her, as Mepad helpfully says, believing herself to be incapable of starting over in more ways than one, her believing no one would want her to be recovered, her having a hunch of Mephone’s reluctance to revive her, or her own inability to see much of a future for herself, she does not believe she can come back!!! Angst!!!!! She is hurting so bad I love her <3

And Mepad is an empathy king!! And is probably the least biased against her out of everyone on the island!! And he can see beneath her crumbling exterior!!!! So her self-loathing and regret and everything she’s trying to push down is obvious to him. Of course she doesn’t believe she can be revived. And we see even Taco is surprised and even a bit miffed by this!!! Aside from Mic to a lesser extent, Mepad is the only person who can really see through her facade. Mic did try, and saw that Taco was hiding things, don’t get me wrong, but Taco was much more stable at that point and shut Mic’s attempts to see underneath her image down much harder than she is able to do during the song.

And Mepad plainly spells out what she’s feeling. This is so important to why she opens up to him more in the next verse. Not only can she not hide her emotions from him, because he already knows, but having it spelled out like that means she can’t keep hiding it from herself either. She can’t ignore her feelings when they’re being clearly stated back to her. So all that she’s been pushing down comes springing right back up in the next verse!!!! She has to physically turn away from him and cross her arms in a final attempt to keep herself closed off, keep anyone from looking in, but after everything she just can’t do it anymore.

["Clear the slate, start again",

Are you hearing how preposterous that sounds?

How do you not comprehend that for someone with my MONSTROUS BACKGROUND,

the whole slate has fallen apart!]

Oh my god guys Taco is being honest about her feelings it’s happening guys it’s happening!!!!! She’s turned away from Mepad for the first two lines, but as she really opens up to him, she turns back around, and gets louder along with the music. And we have Taco be like, the most emotionally open we see her!!! She’s putting Mepad’s rather succinct evaluation of her feelings into her own words. She doesn’t just think she can’t change or have a new start, she finds the notion preposterous!!! Forgiveness is inconceivable to her!!! Inconceivable!!! I can’t emphasize enough that this is the first time Taco has ever emotionally opened up to anyone ever and it is her telling Mepad that she is evil, unable to change, and will never be forgiven. We really get a feel for how everything has been weighing down on her for years, and how everything has built up to a point that she really can’t take it anymore!! But she doesn’t believe there’s any chance of a happy ending for her. Not only the whole slate, but her entire life has fallen apart!! She has lost everything and is fully confident she will never get anything back!!!

[Taco, that is not true.

There are other ways to-

It's too late-

It's not too late,

For me to restart!]

Mepad coming in trying to help <3 Notice how he comes in while she’s still holding the previous note!! He is immediately refuting her idea that she’s irredeemable!! He does the same to refute her when she says it’s too late!!! He is very concerned for her and trying to convince her that it’s not too late for her. He’s trying to tell her there are other options, that she’s not so far gone, but this sort of ends up backfiring, since not only does she not listen to him when he says these things but his interjection ends up snapping her out of the state of emotional vulnerability, and she pulls her facade right back up. Taco saying it’s too late for her kind of breaks my heart honestly, I love it when my blorbo is in pain don’t get me wrong but ow, my taco it’s gonna be okay I love you. She really sees no redemption or even future for herself, and at her lowest she’s finally expressed that to someone!!! Which is a very important step to healing!!!! She accidentally started the healing process by talking about her issues. I mean, she backpedals immediately, but still!!!! Great job Taco <3 And at the end of this line we head into Mepad’s face!! Because there’s a shift from Taco’s feelings to her pushing him away, literally and figuratively, after that moment of vulnerability!! The audience is going with Mepad, at the moment, chasing after Taco!!!

[But it's not I, its they,

Who deign to play this game, so,

Cruel and inhumane, base and uncouth,]

AND HERE COMES TACO WITH THE IMMEDIATE SUBJECT CHANGE!! She just did her first ever emotional vulnerability, and as per her usual strategy with her emotions she’s hard changing the subject!!! In this case, back to the final four and the game!!! She’s deflecting back on to both of them in quick succession trying to get a topic that isn’t her to stick! She is quite literally walking away from the topic in the visuals too!! She’s trying to get away from Mepad, who is trying to keep them on the subject of Taco’s feelings, looks back at him angrily when he keeps talking about it, and then is even more angry when he keeps going, before storming away from him again!!!

[Let us talk about it when your,

head is not so clouded. You're no,

menace, Taco, how did they hurt you?

Please think this through]

Mepad is trying to get her to go back to that emotional vulnerability!!! He wants to help her, he wants to talk through her issues with her rather than watching her self-destruct!!! I think this is where the idea that running the Truth or Flare challenge will help her comes from, too. He can tell she’s vulnerable, despite how hard she’s trying not to be, and she is talking things out, in a way, during ToF!! In a healthy way, no, but it’s Taco so we need to take what we can get. As he says, he’d rather do it when Taco has calmed down, taken a moment to not bury her feelings and even gets recovered, maybe. And here we get to a very important line!! Mepad asks her how they hurt her!!!! I genuinely don’t think Taco’s been asked this, yeah? Her whole schtick is supposed to be that she is the villain, she hurts people, not how she’s been hurt herself! And dare I say, me, the biggest Taco apologist and forehead kisser you ever did see, they have hurt her. She’s seen every other person who’s hurt the others be let into the hotel and accepted into the group, yeah? Balloon was accepted, after quite a bit of effort on his part. No one really seemed to care that Knife had killed Marsh for fun, Taco mentioning it in episode 13 as they’re arguing. Nickel and Taco are relatively similar in personality, but Nickel seemed to have relatively free reign to asshole all he wanted until Suitcase snapped at him, and even then it was just Suitcase who was angry with him. But not her. She hasn’t apologized to Pickle in person, at this point, but she had sent letters. She’d at least tried to contact him, and while he was well within his rights to ignore her, I can’t really blame her for not wanting to go inside the hotel either. Not to mention, Taco has been watching them all very closely, at least for the duration of the second season and likely after the first as well, for her to have found out about the second season and to have begun scheming so quickly. So every time they’ve spoken about her, every insult and awkward silence after someone mentions her name, she’s heard. That’s got to hurt!! Taco is very much not perfect and I don’t really blame the others for not reaching out to her given she hadn’t decided to make a change yet, but it also can’t be easy to make a change for the better when you are homeless in the woods!! Mic and Mepad’s willingness to help her is what really convinced her change would be good and possible, she hadn’t had anyone else reach out to her before, and to be fair, she folds pretty damn quickly in the grand scheme of things. Mic showed her she was likable as a person, and Mepad showed her she was redeemable, and with that support she is doing her best now!!! Anyways. Uh. There’s still one more line!! Mepad is pleading with Taco not to make things worse for herself, because taking over the challenge and such is only going to make them think she hasn’t changed at all and feed into the persona he knows is a sham in shambles at this point! Talking it out with him would be a much better way to do this!!! But alas, she’s dead set.

[I think they're too afraid to,

Bear the bed they've made,

Can't bring themselves to face the awful truth.]

TACO & THE AWFUL TRUTH that she’s projecting. Yeah Taco is the one who is afraid to actually face her mistakes, the people she’d hurt. Though, she probably sees her isolation as doing so, yeah? She’s hurt people, so she has to be alone as punishment, even though that doesn’t give anyone closure. However! As for the awful truth, yeah, Taco really is one of the only ones who’s looked the competition in the eyes for everything it is and spat on it. She’s motivated by a lot of complicated feelings she tries not to feel, but she sees the game for what it is, and how it hurts the contestants involved!! And the final four are yet to take that look, until she gets everything laid out in front of them!!

[Feeling double-crossed is part of,

Dealing with a loss, yes, but the,

Healing is a process, that's the truth]

FEELING DOUBLE-CROSSED this line is also important because!! Taco does feel betrayed by Mic!! She feels guilty and blames herself for what happened, yes, but she still does feel that sting of betrayal, since Mic left her, yeah? Oh her part, she’d finally accepted Mic as her first true friend, someone who liked her for who she was and she liked being around, and almost immediately Mic left her. A lot of that is on Taco, don’t get me wrong, but from Taco’s end she still doesn’t even fully understand why Mic was mad at her!! She thinks it was all because of her getting violent, not because she didn’t listen to Mic. My low empathy queen is still struggling to fully grasp Mic’s motivations, her first friend that she could act “normal” around, so of course she’d feel betrayed! Taco is dealing with a loss!!!!!!!!! And she is NOT healing!! She is trying to push it down like always, but it’s become too much for her!!! And Mepad is telling her that healing is a process because it’s so much for her at the moment!! He’s trying to communicate that she’s going to feel better eventually, that she needs help and time to do so, instead of rushing into another scheme!!! He’s telling her the truth, that healing is possible!!! But as Taco rejects his pleas for her to reconsider and grabs him, we shift back into reality. Taco is unconvinced, and they’re more or less at square one, with Taco’s mask for the rest of the world securely back in place.

Everyone look at this shot RIGHT NOW I’m going to explode. All these cracks come from the ii logo that Taco stomped on, yeah? And those cracks in the game spread, and create the cracks in her. She has been broken by the game!!! Look at her face! Does she look whole and happy to you? I didn’t think so. And here we have Taco close to the camera, looking out towards the viewer, to illustrate how although she’s separate from the game, more of a spectator than the player anymore, she’s still trapped inside the competition that’s broken her!! And we have Mepad in the background, further away with his position as an assistant!! The cracks are all around him rather than through him, because he’s not being hurt by the game!! He’s not a competitor!! But the game is crumbling everything around him. He’s watched everything, just like Taco has!! Every betrayal, every fight this season, Mepad has been watching. And the more he’s been seeing, the more he’s been feeling, and the more he’s been able to see how the game tears people apart and breaks them, just like it’s broken Taco.

[So I'm turning up the heat to "sauté",

I've a beef to get grilled,

But I fully guarantee that today all the beans that get spilled,

Won't be mine, no I'm fine,

Shhhh...

Now it's time…]

Guys I think Taco might not be fine. She’s shoved her facade right up and has closed herself back off, moving to continue with her plot. She’s going to grill the final four and 100% not get upset or feel any feelings, nope. Of course this is not what happened, and from Taco’s facial expression when she claims to be fine she has a hunch it’s not going to be so easy. She knows and has acknowledged to herself that she is not okay, which is a big step, but she still stuck in her ways in terms of ignoring it in favor of playing the role she’s been designated. Her mask is cracked, her confidence is transparent, but she’s still acting. Mepad is still trying to help her here, but she physically silences him. Not literally, per say, as turning him invisible wouldn’t stop him from talking, but she shushes him and he gets the memo. The window to convince her to stop has closed, and she’s going forth with her plan regardless of how well she is.

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!! <3 I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! I REALLY HOPE THIS DIDN’T SUCK. IT TOOK A WHILE TO WRITE SO IF IT SUCKS THAT SUCKS FOR ME. HOPEFULLY I DIDN’T MISS TOO MUCH. THROW TOMATOES AT ME IF I DID (i will be sad). GIVE ME COOKIES IF NOT (joy inducers).

#inanimate insanity #ii taco #taco ii #ii mepad #mepad ii #fuck it #tacopad #tw suicidal ideation #loomy's analysis #loomy's metas #loomy's tired after this it was 12 pages #mic ii #ii mic #pickle ii #ii pickle #ii 15 #taco's tirade

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karasukarei · 3 days ago

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Wind Breaker DVD/BR Vol. 6 bonus content – Boufuurin Vs Shishitoren Maruhi ㊙ Talk and Battle - Part 1

This is the translation of the vol. 6 bonus with the DVD/Bluray! I did not buy it for the bonus. I did buy it because Umemiya is featured on the cover. I have my priorities right.

There's 3 (4?) main parts to this - (1) Boufuurin x Shishitoren talk, (2) Hiiragi x Sako talk + (3) battle, (4) Boufuurin x Shishitoren battle. The battles are kinda hard to understand without the video, so I'll leave that aside for now and focus on just the talks.

As these are more like talk shows, there's quite a few areas where multiple people are talking over each other; in such instances, I will be omitting some of the stuff being said if it's repetitions or if they do not add on to the main stuff being spoken.

Important: A lot of what NakaYuu says will seem very cold/ indifferent on paper, and unfortunately this is one of those things that get lost in translation. In context, he's actually playing the deadpan fool like his pal Sugitan.

For the rest of my translations, see this post!

Boufuurin x Shishitoren talk

Sakura (CV: Uchida Yuuma - Yuuma)

Umemiya (CV: Nakamura Yuuichi - NakaYuu)

Choji (CV: Totani Toya Kikunosuke - Toya) (t/n: there's this running gag that has an origin I'm unaware of, apparently some people read his name wrongly and called him Totani instead and I admit that for the longest time I really thought it was read as Totani. The 谷 in 戸谷 can be read as either "ya" or "tani", and both are pretty common readings, hence the confusion)

(if anyone wants to hear me ramble about multiple readings for names please DM me I will be so happy to go on this long shpiel about meeting 3 people with 3 different readings of the same character before)

Togame (CV: Umehara Yuuichirou - Umechan) (t/n: yes I'm here to confuse the heck out of you)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuuma: Hello everyone! I'm the voice actor of Sakura Haruka for the television anime Wind Breaker, Uchida Yuuma!

NakaYuu: Umemiya Hajime's Nakamura Yuuichi! (t/n: he was drawling a lot here wwww)

Toya: Tomiyama Choji's Toya Kikunosuke! (t/n: he is really so cute I want to protecc) (I also cannot emphasise enough just how talented he is; he sounds NOTHING like Choji irl)

Umechan: Togame Jo's Umehara Yuuichiro, thanks for having me.

Everyone: Thanks for having us! (t/n: it's the usual yoroshiku onegaishimasu greeting and I can never figure out how to properly translate it)

Yuuma: Speaking of, to everyone who bought the anime package (i.e. the DVD or blu-ray), will be receiving this special bonus, ehhh. ~It's Wind Breaker~ (comes with sparkles too) everyone.

NakaYuu: That's right.

(everyone chuckles)

Toya: We've even worn these jackets!

NakaYuu: Why are you doing it? (t/n: LMAO)

*everyone laughs*

Umechan: On the other hand, *points at Yuuma and NakaYuu* you're here like this?

Toya: It feels different there. (t/n: this is not an entirely accurate translation, but i'm pretty tired today and don't feel like explaining now. What he said was 気合違いますよ which has a bit more nuance; I'll explain in an edit next time.)

Yuuma: This is my regular...

Umechan: Gakuran? (t/n: this is the style of school uniforms worn by Boufuurin)

NakaYuu: It's not that. *very seriously*

Toya: Yuuma-san's clothes actually of give off a bit of the feel of gakurans...

Yuuma: It's not a gakuran ^_^

***

Yuuma: With that, the four of us from Wind Breaker, Shishitouren and Boufuurin will have a talk with each other.

Everyone (i think): Yes!

Yuuma: It's been a while since we've recorded our lines, and I think there'll be lots of memories we'll be reminiscing upon, but in Wind Breaker, there's often talk of speaking with our fists; Nakamura-san and I first joined from the PV, it's been a while, hasn't it? (t/n: They're referring to a special video they recorded for an event in Shibuya in 2021)

NakaYuu: It's a while back, isn't it?

Yuuma: Around 2021, yes.

NakaYuu: About two years before the anime, I think.

Umechan: It's from before the anime?

NakaYuu: Yes yes yes, when you get to our level it's like that. (t/n: this is absolutely dripping in sarcasm fyi; NakaYuu can only get away with a joke like this cos he's the oldest here) You start getting involved even before the anime is announced.

Yuuma: As for the two of you (Shishitoren), you guys auditioned?

Umechan: Yes...

Toya: We auditioned and received our roles.

Yuuma: You two make a great combo, how was it like performing together?

Umechan: It's my first time working with Toya-kun.

Toya: Yes it is.

Umechan: It was really refreshing. The other cast members, I've met them quite often at other places, so I sort of know how things will turn out with them. It's only Toya-kun I don't know anything about.

Toya: For me, it's my first time meeting most of the cast members, I remember that during the first recording I was really really nervous.

Umechan: I didn't know how it would turn out, but he was very Tomiyama-ish.

Yuuma: That's the matching being done (t/n: this might be a mistranslation; he literally uses "matching" in katakana, I'm not sure if there's an alternative meaning I'm missing out.)

NakaYuu: There's difficulty in reading him. (i.e. in reading his character)

***

Yuuma: Next is the visual commentary part, where we watch the anime while giving comments on it. First up, is this match!

T/N: I'm going to skip some parts and summarise some parts, as it's going to be pretty much impossible to match the dialogue and scene one on one without video

Sakura vs Togame

When Umechan first recorded for Togame, he spoke so slowly he was surprised, and in the end that take was used for the anime. It got easier to speak slowly as he practiced more, but at first he had to make a conscious effort to go slow.

Togame's script also had a lot of markings at the end of words (e.g. dashes), to indicate that the words should be drawn out / spoken slowly.

While filming the fight scenes, they thought quite a lot about what to ad lib and how to draw breaths in between lines. They were told it wasn't necessary to do it for everything, but on the day of recording they decided that they did want to include the ad libs and breaths for the whole thing.

NakaYuu, at the point when Sakura is kicked by Togame with his geta on: Getting kicked by the geta looks bad. (t/n: NO SHIT SHERLOCK)

Umechan: I would've preferred him to wear sneakers, it can absorb the impact a bit.

Yuuma: The geta is really hard.

NakaYuu: Of course it is.

NakaYuu, at the point when Sakura's head is stomped on by Togame with his Geta: That looks bad.

Yuuma: He's a real beast!

Umechan: Everyone, this is fiction.

Yuuma: Please don't try the same thing at home.

Umechan, at the point when Togame took off his geta: If he hadn't taken off his geta, I think he would have won. (t/n: LMAO)

NakaYuu: This is a power down event.

Umechan: His reach is now one geta shorter.

NakaYuui: His reach and power have both dropped. But his grip is stronger now

Umechan: It would've been fine if he hadn't taken it off.

NakaYuu: It's probably cos it feels strange using a weapon when he wants to fight fair and square.

t/n: WHY ARE THEY FEEDING INTO EACH OTHER'S CHAOS

Everyone in turn, when Sakura and Togame kicked each other in the face: The geta. the geta!

Yuuma: It's a good thing he's not wearing the geta.

NakaYuu: If he was wearing the geta he would've won.

Yuuma: Togame is a really great guy, fighting for Choji's sake. Thanks for the great battle! Next is this battle!

TO BE CONTINUED

#wind breaker #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker anime #windbreaker #wbk

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waynes-multiverse · 2 days ago

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Don't Blame Me (3.01)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x FBI Agent!Reader

Season 3 Summary: The deeper you fall into the world of all things supernatural, the more the lines between right and wrong begin to blur. With a little help from some magical friends, can you finally change the Winchesters' fate and give them the happy ending they deserve?

Warnings: 18+, language, flashbacks with enemies to lovers vibes (SPN S2 & 3 are saying hi 👋), canon adjacent re-writes, same old S2 cliffhanger (I'm genuinely sorry lol)

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Welcome back, guys!!! It's seriously been way too long. I got distracted with life and a ton of other projects, but I'm so happy to share more of those two knuckleheads 🤍

This will not be updated regularly but as much as I can. Thank you for understanding 🫶

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist|| Tag List || Ko-Fi

1. Lemons

November, 2006

One by one, people rushed out of the elevator, all either busy on the phone, stuck in research papers or the casual morning conversation with a colleague, until the stuffy thing eventually reached the 27th floor of the Hoover building, the ding not coming soon enough as you impatiently tapped your heels on the dingy linoleum before hurrying to your desk with a heavy stack of files.

You’d been up all night, racking your brain till your skull almost broke. It certainly felt like it a few times last night, catching yourself reaching for the wine glass more often than you used to, sometimes even wishing it were something stronger, like whiskey or a goddamn shot of tequila.

Unfortunately, a comfortable level of alcohol made the gruesome pictures that lived rent-free in your head slightly more blurry, and was a cure-all for a goodnight’s sleep. Better than NyQuil, or anything else you could get over the counter at the pharmacy at least.

But that’s the thing about signing up as an FBI profiler and specializing in missing children – there would never be a peaceful night for you ever again, and you knew that. You were fine with that deal, though, because in the end, you always helped the ones that needed it the most, which was probably the best sleeping pill of all.

Halfway through a cup of the blackest coffee and a bowl of sugary cereal to keep the engine running, a shadow cast over your cubicle before a folder unceremoniously dropped down in front of you. Curious as you were, you ignored the messenger at first and immediately pried open the folder, skimming over its contents.

Dean and Samual Winchester. Brothers. Born in 1979 and 1983, respectively. No noteworthy jobs. No steady address since 1983 – the year their mother was killed in a house fire. The younger one went to Stanford, pre-law, but dropped out a year ago after his girlfriend passed – also in a fire. Huh. Their father then died a few months ago in a hospital, while the brothers still continue to aimlessly drive around the country in a black ‘67 Chevy Impala, committing crimes along the way. Certainly, a lot of death seemed to surround that strange family and accompany them wherever they went.

“Can you get a profile going for me?” The deep, gruff voice ripped you from your trance and caused you to blink up at the man before you for the first time.

“Uhm, and who are you?” FBI agents were typically rude, stand-off-ish, and generally unpleasant to deal with. Everyone essentially thought they were a big shot, and the guy’s giant ego in front of you seemed to be no different.

“Special Agent Viktor Henriksen,” he introduced himself, a crooked smile shaping his lips. “And you’re Y/N Heller, top of your class at Columbia. Your boss says you’re the best one he’s got, and I need the best for those two. They’re a special kind of fucked in the head.”

You smiled half-politely at him, biting back the sigh, and said through your teeth, “Well, let me be the judge of that, Dr. Phil.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll come to the same conclusion, sweetheart,” Henriksen replied cockily, making you clench your jaw at his little nickname for you. Guys in the FBI were the fucking worst. All of them were a bunch of competitive, cocky, alpha assholes. “I need a profile ASAP. They’re on the road and already have a couple of murders under their nasty belt. I know they’ve only just begun.”

You frowned slightly at the armchair analysis. Everyone always thought they knew everything. Funny how all those experts still seemed to need you, though.

And well, your first instinct told you the brothers weren’t as twisted as Henriksen made them out to be as you studied the folder in front of you once more. All you saw so far was a lot of trauma and some misguided notions that surely required extensive therapy – maybe even a pill or two.

“I’ll get right on it.” You gave him a resolute nod and accepted the case. Your curiosity was piqued, but not for the reasons Henriksen probably hoped it was. Either way, you needed more information first before giving a final judgment.

January, 2007

Henriksen stormed into the little trailer with you in tow, several heads turning your direction and bodies ducking out of the way as a group of police officers scowled at the two of you. Your superior bickered with the lead detective for a good fifteen minutes about jurisdiction, a true dick measuring contest, while your head was still with the young woman you interviewed at the jewelry store an hour ago.

Sam and Dean Winchester had taken Milwaukee under besiege – or rather a bank. Which you, frankly, found quite the odd duck. You really hadn’t taken the criminal duo for bank robbers. Petty theft? Sure. A full-on, big bank robbery with hostages and witnesses and TV cameras? Not so much.

You knew they used fake credit cards to keep themselves afloat – you collected their receipts religiously like your mother cutting out coupons from the papers. But maybe the brothers finally got tired of filling out one stupid application form after the next and needed a quicker fix. So, why not rob a bank?

Crazy people usually do crazy things.

However, speaking with a few witnesses of a jewelry store the brothers frequented earlier that day only left you with more questions buzzing in your mind. The two of them seemingly became even bolder, pretending to be FBI agents this time to inquire about a recent robbery – another odd thing to do.

Were they checking out the competition? And on top of it all, the oldest Winchester also cheerily flirted his way into the store clerk’s goddamn panties.

Patriot my ass, you thought with a scoff, repeating the words of the young woman. Who would do such a thing? You didn’t know whether to be offended or appalled.

There was a little itch in your gut that told you something was definitely off about the brothers, and it bothered you that you still hadn’t figured out what it was. No matter what evidence landed on your desk, you could never quite put your finger on it.

Nevertheless, the facts remained the same: Dean Winchester committed at least one murder and was a main suspect in several others. And together with his little brother, like a co-dependent Bonnie and Clyde, they frolicked randomly throughout the country, committing crimes that ranged from petty theft to grave desecration and, in a recent development, murder. They were raised on the road by a grieving ex-marine and never knew a real home, aside from cheap motels and an old car. Talk about “screwed for life.”

Judging by the ruthlessness of the crimes, however, the profile of the perpetrator simply didn’t fit the Dean Winchester of the infamous stories, heard in whispers around the Hoover hallways.

Furthermore, chatting to a few alive victims and witnesses of past cases in your research journey only led to more question marks than closure points. Every single person, young to old, male to female, poor to rich, all described the older Winchester as kind, sweet, and utterly charming. Could it all just be an act? The seductive means to a bitter end? The Manson and Bundy of the 21st century?

But then you also had to consider the source of their supposed crimes, the reason they did what they did. And well, if you asked the Winchesters personally, they’d probably claim they’re saving the world from real-life, flesh-eating monsters and whatnot.

Monsters – the stupidest thing you’d ever fucking heard. Did these grown men really believe in vampires and ghosts like two little kids? Or was it just a clever ruse to scam people? Some long con like those paranormal investigators and psychics, which everyone knows is just bullshit served in a crystal ball.

On the other hand, you had treated patients with a shared psychosis before, a folie à deux, but the brothers certainly took the whole goddamn cake and ate it, too.

Still, there were too many other puzzle pieces in play that simply didn’t fit, finding yourself surrounded by loose ends. You’d always hated those.

“You know, if I come to more field adventures with you, maybe I should finally get a gun, huh?” You smirked at your grumpy superior.

The bank robbery marked your third time away from your boring desk. Henriksen asked you for help with a few of his other cases as well, seemingly having taken a liking to you – a rare thing indeed. The guy was usually a hardass, and it took you a few weeks of schmoozing to win him over. However, once Henriksen had taken you under his wing, he had promised that if you proved yourself, he’d put forward his recommendation for your special agent training at Quantico’s academy and mentor you.

That was all you’d ever wanted. Truthfully, when the FBI recruited you during your master’s at Columbia, you’d never thought once about taking a weapon into your own hands and storming a building. But you wanted to do more, help more than what you could achieve from your boring, gray cubicle.

“You’re not ready for a gun yet, rookie. I don’t want you to fucking shoot me.” Henriksen laughed tauntingly and picked up the phone, ready for his threatening call to the brothers after you thoroughly coached him on what to say to get them to crack. “I’ll teach you how to shoot when we get back to DC, alright? Then it’s just you and me and the gun range, rookie.”

“Just remember to stick to the script, alright?” you reminded him with a frown, which only earned you a dismissive eye roll.

Of course, your superior didn’t stick to your profile and invented his own little background story, which was only remotely along the lines of your analysis.

What surprised you, though, was how defensive the older Winchester became upon the mention of his dead father, hearing the inconsolable grief in his voice even over the strained phone line. He sounded lonely and lost, and it admittedly tore on your heartstrings a little. Losing a parent was never easy, and you couldn’t help but sympathize – even if he technically was a potential killer during an on-going bank robbery and threatening the lives of around ten hostages.

And then, poof.

Never did you think there was any way the Winchesters could possibly escape the crime scene. Henriksen had that bank building locked down, sealed, and surrounded. And yet, the brothers still fled the awaiting claws of law enforcement, escaping with a clever plan straight out of a movie.

In all honesty, you were impressed – and slightly more baffled.

April, 2007

April finally marked a big break in the Winchester case. The brothers were caught during a break-in at a museum in Arkansas, and while Henriksen and his partner Reidy celebrated their big win like Olympic gold, you weren’t entirely sure it was even a participation trophy, finding the whole situation oddly suspicious.

It seemed too easy, and even though your superior told you to just accept it and grab a beer, you obviously couldn’t. Henriksen was cocky and eager, and Reidy was a downright idiot, so it was up to you to convince them you were right – which never worked. The men always loved to tune you out. You’d learned a while ago you had to work twice as hard as any man ever would just to be seen and heard.

Standing in the little gray and bleak room of the Green River County Detention Center, you watched Henriksen and Reidy through the one-way mirror as they interrogated the oldest Winchester, who seemed to collect a few drops of sweat on his forehead once he realized the FBI was involved. While you wished you could be in the room with them, laying down the law, you always loved the advantage of watching a suspect’s interrogation. This was where you truly learned all about a person of interest.

On top of it, this was a special occasion as it marked your first real observation of the brothers. It was more than boring black letters on a simple white sheet of paper, stuffed in a folder with a bunch of crime scene photos. The brothers were finally in a cage without an escape, and you were gifted the joyous task of studying them like zoo animals. Every facial twitch, every nervous tap of a finger, every insecure lick of chapped lips was noted by your brain and added to your overall analysis.

“And after Milwaukee, your brother is now a suspect in a murder case himself. I’d say for you two, ‘screwed to hell’ is a major understatement,” Henriksen told the older brother in his usual cocky attitude, which caused your eyes to roll back into your head.

The Milwaukee murder case was the strangest thing as of yet. One of the bank hostages was killed, and yet, that same hostage emerged alive and swore she did not have a twin sister. Neither were there ever any hospital records of a twin, albeit there was a dead body that looked like an exact replica of that woman. How was this possible? And more importantly, what did it all mean?

“Well, where there’s life there’s hope, huh?” Dean smiled up at the two agents, and you assumed he really had to believe that, considering the prickly situation he found himself in.

“See? That’s what I kept thinking as I was searching for your asses all over hell and gone,” Henriksen smirked and leaned closer to Dean over the metal table, which was the usual FBI dick move of intimidation. “Your dad taught you well. The way you cover your tracks, and after Milwaukee, the way you vanished,” your superior whistled lowly, which coaxed a soft laugh out of the suspect. He seemed to be proud of his escape, which, frankly, you couldn’t blame him for. It was pretty awesome. “Near went nuts trying to find you. Ask him,” Henriksen nodded to Reidy.

“He near went nuts,” Reidy confirmed, and you tried not to puke into the closest trash bin.

Honestly, “near went nuts” was the understatement of the year. That idiot Reidy didn’t even go through half the shit you went through when Henriksen stormed into your apartment at 3am and woke you up by slamming a bunch of files on your mattress.

Incidents like that weren’t a rare occasion, either. They happened quite often, and it was safe to say that Henriksen was positively obsessed with the brothers, which in return, was pretty common for FBI agents. Most of you were like bloodhounds, and once someone caught a trail, they would start digging and never stop until they held a bone between their pointed teeth.

“Shit,” you muttered when the public defender stormed into the room to save your main suspect from his interrogation.

Quickly exiting the room, you went across the hall and snuck into Sam’s, knowing you only had a few minutes before the attorney would fetch him, too. As your colleagues only made little progress with the oldest Winchester, you decided to pursue your own course of action and look for answers, hoping the younger brother was more willing to talk than his counterpart.

“Sam Winchester? I’m, uh… Dr. Heller. I’m a profiler with the FBI.” Smooth. Technically, you’d never interrogated someone on your own before. Usually, you’d sit in while Henriksen asked the hard questions, whispering your suggestions into his ear as you observed the suspect’s demeanor.

“FBI? Great,” Sam murmured with a huff, clearly not amused. He seemed annoyed to be stuck here, which wasn’t unusual for any criminal in his shoes. Still, something seemed different about his irritation as if it was geared toward someone specific, most likely his own brother.

“Yep, you and your brother made quite the headlines in DC,” you noted as you carefully took a seat opposite him. “Look, uhm, can I ask you a couple of questions?”

The younger Winchester scoffed. “Do I have a choice?”

“Kinda? I mean, it’s not like I’m here for official business or anything. I don’t even know if it’s legal,” you spluttered.

Sam furrowed his brow at the waterfall of words. “What?”

“Uh, nothing.” Subtly clearing your throat, you folded your arms on the table and took a deep breath. “I just need a few answers, okay? Off the record. I’m just-, I’m curious,” you admitted.

Leaning back in his chair with narrowed hazel eyes, Sam placed his cuffed hands in his lap and studied you. “Okay…?”

“Listen, I’m not an agent, but my two colleagues are, and they want you and your brother behind bars, preferably with the death penalty hanging over your heads,” you told him truthfully and swallowed the lump in your throat. “But, uhm…”

“But what?” Sam now leaned forward, titling his head in intrigue.

“But if you really didn’t commit these murders… if your brother didn’t, then you need to tell me who did,” you said and caught his gaze.

“Why would you say that?”

“Isn’t it true?” You shrugged your shoulders and sent him a small smile, which he mirrored. That was when you knew for sure your gut was right about the brothers from the start, but you still didn’t feel any closer to the truth.

“So, you think my brother’s not a killer?”

You chuckled. “Didn’t say that. I just don’t see him as the cold-blooded type. Crime of passion? Maybe, but the victims were all strangers to you guys, right?” Sam nodded, and you felt confident enough to continue, “None of the crimes fit the supposed perpetrators, which doesn’t happen that often. So, who killed all those people if it wasn’t you or your brother?”

Sam broke a smile, shaking his head, the mop of hair moving with him. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

You cocked your eyebrow. “What? The monsters thing?”

The younger Winchester just stared you straight in the eye and wet his lips before there was a noticeable shrug of his broad shoulders.

Great, you were dealing with delusional loonies.

“Told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” he smiled triumphantly.

You squinted your eyes at him. “You got caught on purpose, didn’t you?”

Another shrug.

“Why? Is there a monster here, too?” you snorted your question in mock.

“Ghost, actually.”

“Huh.” You frowned and tapped your fingernails against the metal surface. “You know I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth, Sam.”

“You can’t help me either way,” he said simply as if he had already accepted his fate. “Wanna know what I think?”

“Please.”

“If you didn’t believe me even a little, you wouldn’t have come in here to talk to me in the first place,” Sam mused cleverly, earning him a scoff from you.

“Sorry, but I’m not crazy. If you don’t wanna talk to me, that’s fine. Have it your way then.” With that, you rose from your seat and walked to the exit, pronouncing it a hopeless case.

“It’s not crazy if it’s true, though,” Sam added before you closed the door behind him.

You were greeted by the defense attorney and your two colleagues, who accompanied a cuffed Dean Winchester into Sam’s room for their counseling before Henriksen shot you a raised look upon your break of protocol.

“Uh, I was just checking on Mr. Winchester’s mental health for his psych eval,” you excused your behavior with a clear of your throat.

“Hey, why didn’t I get the pretty agent?” Dean threw in and grinned tauntingly at your superior before flirtatiously wiggling his eyebrows at you, deliberately scanning your figure like any low-life criminal would.

And yet, here you were, not buying into whatever he was trying to sell you as you met his green eyes and recognized it was all just a façade. For a moment, it even felt like he realized you knew and saw right through him.

“What can I tell ya? We left her a choice, and she chose the handsome one,” Henriksen retorted, smirking broadly.

“Ouch. So hurtful today,” Dean muttered in jest as the agents shoved him inside the bare room and shut the door behind him, breaking his eye contact with you.

“Going rogue?” Henriksen raised an eyebrow as soon as his attention was back on you, ripping you from your momentary stupor. You offered him a sheepish shrug as a response. “Did you at least find something out we can use?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I think they’re planing to break out.”

Henriksen laughed loudly, the sound mocking in nature. “Oh, they can try all they want. They’re not gonna MacGyver outta this one.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you cut into his laughter, causing it to halt as he threw you an annoyed look. “I’m just saying… they’re highly delusional. They actually believe all the bullshit they’re selling. They live in their own world and play by their own rules.”

“Yeah, well, the real world is starting to catch up with them,” Henriksen retorted. “Don’t worry. They’re not getting out, and come Tuesday, we’ll have them locked up tight in a Super Max, preferably with a straitjacket, but I’ll leave the details up to you.”

“Great, thanks.” You scowled deeply.

But when Tuesday rolled around, you were able to deliver a big, fat ‘I told you so’ to your superior instead, as the Winchesters managed to escape once again. Gone with the wind.

February, 2008

The last ten months remained quiet as you went through your special agent training at Quantico and finished your Psy. D. thesis before going on your first few assignments as Henriksen’s new partner. Most days, he still called you rookie, although just to tease you.

Your twenty-third case then landed you in the hospital with a life-threatening stab wound. After two surgeries and a short-lived coma, you were in the green, according to the gazillion doctors and tests at least. You quickly found your old spirit again when a new lead about the Winchester case came in – the first one in goddamn months. Naturally, Henriksen rushed right to Colorado, where the brothers were supposedly held by police, while you annoyed your doctors for an early discharge. Without any luck, though.

Regardless, your partner swore to keep you updated and reserve the main interrogation until you were back on your feet, so every time your phone buzzed on the plastic bedside table, you hurried to answer it, awaiting any news.

“Would you slow down? You’re only gonna hurt yourself more,” Patrick reminded you with a chuckle as he handed you your vibrating phone before you could clumsily tumble out of the narrow bed.

“Don’t you wanna get them, too?” you smiled at the young prosecutor in the creaking chair next to you.

“Oh, I can’t wait to grill them on the stand,” he grinned in return.

“See? But not without my files you won’t,” you smirked and joyfully picked up, recognizing the Colorado area code on your display. “Special Agent Heller, hello?”

“We got ‘em,” your partner’s voice chimed cheerfully through the phone. “Live and in flesh. Just talked to them.”

“You didn’t threaten them, did you? If you come in with a wrecking ball, they’re gonna block me when I’m trying to talk to them. I’ve told you this,” you reminded him sternly but were unable to hide the grin fully.

“Relax,” Henriksen brushed you off, and you were sure there was an eye roll involved. “I promise I had a very cordial chit-chat with them.”

“Uh-huh.” You frowned and teased, “Why don’t I believe you?”

In response, a deep chuckle rumbled through the phone. “Get better and get that ass out of that hospital bed, rookie. I’ll call you as soon as I have those two on a plane to DC, alright?”

“I’ll be happily waiting by the airport bar.”

Needless to say, that call never came, and the Winchesters never made it to DC – neither did your partner. Everything changed after Henriksen’s death, but most of all, you.

September 2008

As the sun downed outside your office window after a long day that just added to an endless row of long days, another shadow crawled across your desk and disturbed your solitude as you pressed pause on the Wu-Tang Clan and removed your headphones.

“Special Agent Dr. Heller?”

This time, you even glanced up, considering they had at least managed to call you by your full title. “Brown-nosing straightaway. I like it,” you cast a grin on your lips and deadpanned, “If you leave your case file on the stack with the others, I’ll make sure to prioritize it, mm-kay?”

The young agent smacked his lips, bobbing his head. “Uhm, actually, I’m your new partner. Special Agent Owen Slater,” he introduced himself with a smile, holding out his hand.

However, when you coolly leaned back in your chair instead, he dejectedly dropped it. “So, Number Four, what do you have to offer?”

“Wow, they really didn’t lie to me when they told me you were hostile, huh?” He scratched his beard, obviously pondering his next move on how to break down your walls.

“Nope,” you confirmed without batting an eyelash. “I just have high standards.”

Warily, he lifted one eyebrow. “Which are?”

“Don’t be unorganized, don’t be lazy, and don’t be a dumbass,” you listed off, smiling complacently.

“Okay, and the three agents before me were…”

“All of the above, yes,” you confirmed, nodding. “When did you graduate Quantico?”

“Uhm, a month ago,” Owen replied, swallowing as his Adam’s apple bobbed with nervousness.

“Great, so they sent me a rookie,” you huffed and got out of your chair with an eye roll, packing up for the night.

“Well, I was a soldier before that. Army Ranger. Did three tours in Iraq. Also had medical training,” he informed you in an attempt to woo you. And granted, it worked.

“Military man, really?” You met his hopeful gaze, cocking an eyebrow.

He smirked widely, albeit cockily. “You like that, huh?”

“Well, it means you’re not completely useless. At least you know how to take orders without questioning my authority.” You grinned at him and watched his smile disappear.

“Yeah, they also told me you were bossy,” the young agent quipped and scratched the back of his neck. “And – I know you’re still working on the Winchester case, even though it’s officially closed.”

“It’s not closed. I don’t care what forensics says. I know they’re still alive,” you muttered bitterly like a reflex. “No one should make the mistake of underestimating them. Trust me. Two months ago, I even found surveillance footage of Sam Winchester. I mean, granted, it’s blurry and very pixelated, but I’d recognize that mob of hair anywhere. And if Sam is alive, then I know his older brother isn’t far. Dean Winchester did not just get swallowed by the Earth.”

“I believe you.” Owen shrugged simply and without any second-guessing, causing your brow to furrow.

“Why? No one else in the FBI does. They all think I’ve gone nuts,” you shared.

“I don’t think you’re nuts,” Owen replied. “Well, maybe a little after I met you.” He chuckled as you fixed him with a glare. “But… you have a 98.7% solve rate. I don’t think you’re wrong a lot. You have great instincts, so I’d be a… dumbass not to bet on those.” He smiled slyly.

Impressed, you approved. “Not bad.”

“So, you wanna go for a drink, get to know each other, discuss this blooming new friendship?” your new partner in question asked with a puppy dog look.

You smirked. “Are you buying?”

Hiding his smile behind pursed lips, he nodded. “Sure.”

“Alright,” you accepted and strolled with him to the elevators. “I know a great bar. They have the best and most expensive whiskey.”

Owen took your teasing in stride, though. “I had a feeling you’d say that. But when life gives you lemons, you’re actually supposed to ask for the tequila and salt. My mom always used to say that.”

You snorted as you pressed the button to the ground floor, laughing, “God, I knew you were a momma’s boy.”

His head snapped to you, eyebrows quirking together. “What, how?”

“Smelled it from a mile away. Call it another instinct,” you sassed.

Owen smacked his lips, shaking his head. “You’re creepy.”

“You know what’s creepy? You not even denying it, momma’s boy,” you teased him and cockily folded your arms over your blouse.

“If I pour alcohol in you, are you gonna get meaner or nicer?”

“The latter.” You laughed.

“Thank God,” he sighed dramatically and grinned, “But don’t worry. You’re gonna like me. I’m gonna wear you down until we’re tying friendship bracelets.”

“Oh good grief… We’ll see.”

2. Tequila – FEBRUARY 24

I've been wanting to write this chapter for ages and show the reader's side of the beginning years. Those flashbacks were so fun to execute. Sam's deliveries in prison still kill me 😂

But rest assured the next part will definitely pick up where we left off in Season 2 😉

For all you newbies to this series: You can catch up on Season 1 and 2 in this master post 🩵

Ko-Fi ☕️Tag List 🤍

SNEAK PEAK 3.02:

For a bullet wound that surely had grazed an organ or two, you strangely felt fine, noticing none of the machines were even connected to you, which caused you to raise your eyebrow. Something odd was going on, and as soon as you rose into a sitting position, you realized what it was as you glimpsed back down at your own physical body in a damn hospital bed.

“Shit,” you cursed and clenched your jaw.

All of a sudden, the afterlife became a very real concept to you, albeit you’d listened to a thousand stories about it from the Winchesters. Still, a small part of you hoped it wasn’t true, as naive as that might have sounded. Seeing was believing, after all, and now, you definitely considered yourself a believer. Better late than never, right?

TAGS:

Even though it's been a while, I've tagged those who asked me to whenever S3 finally posts, so here it is. Let me know in the comments if you're still interested to be tagged in future chapters 🩵

@questionableppls @charmed-asylum @djs8891 @idreamofdeanie @xlynnbbyx

@deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @lyarr24 @hobby27 @never-here1992

#don't blame me #season 3 #it's been way too long #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x fbi agent reader #post season 15 #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester series #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic

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