#saw some fics with them and thought they were neat

[orangejuice-djn]

They both trans so they just switched names

[kitten4sannie]

blood pact

pairing: vampire! wooyoung x human! reader (fem)

genre: vampire society au, a lil bit of angst, smut

summary: living in a city overrun by bloodsuckers is already hard enough on its own, but you’re really put to the test when one of them ends up being your only hope in the face of danger.

w.c: 4.3k

warnings: blood/injury, depictions of violence, death(s)? of a few vampires, hard-ish dom (slight tamer)! wooyoung, subby (tiny bit bratty)! reader, these mfs are nasty alr, some light brat taming, one or two little slaps, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, blood kink obv <3 (includes blood drinking/sharing), kissing, oral (giving), throat fucking, brief breath play, pain kink, mutual masturbation, lotus position but it’s rough !!, creampie

a/n: oh mannn i’m a bit late again 😣 but im excited to share this one with you all !! i wanted to thank my dear lily for beta reading this one for me and giving me lovely feedback that helps me grow as a writer, it truly means the world to me my dear 🩷 once again i do apologize if this fic seems disjointed in any way ,, things have been a bit weird but i won’t let life stop me from sharing nasty smut >:((( lol i hope you enjoy and please lemme know what you thought <33

song rec: dirt - depeche mode (we’re taking it wayyy back with this one <3)

fictober 2024

You were never able to pinpoint exactly when humanity went to shit, as it had always been in a state of constant conflict and disarray, but somewhere along the way, it turned into a raging dumpster fire — one that was close to impossible to put out once it was lit. Unbeknownst to humans, there was a society of vampires that lived in the shadows for centuries, waiting patiently until it was the perfect time to make their existence known and feared. What better time to take over the world than when the humans were too busy being at each other’s throats to even realize they had a common enemy, one that would drain them of their life source within a blink of an eye? 

Anyone with a pulse had no choice but to fall in line and succumb to their undead overlords, having to make up their mind about whether they would like to join forces with the enemy by desecrating their DNA and joining those that single-handedly brought upon humanity’s destruction, or grovel at their feet and become a slave, a house pet of sorts whose soul purpose was to feed and entertain their blood-sucking masters.

It was not an easy choice for most, and especially for you, so you simply found another solution — blend in. If you embodied everything a vampire was, even down to their immeasurable sense of pride and entitlement, how could they tell you apart from the others? And when they saw through your ruse, you would drive a stake through their still heart. You would never join their empire, let alone be one of their toys, especially not for some pompous undead prick that would treat you like a glorified juice box. 

Yet, here you were, drunk off your ass at a gothic nightclub that welcomed vampiric guests and shunned anyone with a beating heart, unless they were owned and branded. 

“Gimme another whiskey, neat,” you slurred, holding your empty shot glass to the poor excuse of a human bartender standing on the other side of the bar. You scoffed at the jeweled collar he wore around his neck, knowing he was owned by whatever undead asshole that ran the nightclub. You had your own collar, of course, but you had taken it from someone that was…no longer in need of it. You did what you had to, to make it through another night in the corrupted world you regretfully called your home. 

“I should cut you off, y’know, especially after being such a dick to me all night,” the man mumbled, despite reaching underneath the bar to grab an almost empty bottle of whiskey and filling your glass back up, not wanting to risk angering his superiors. 

“But, you won’t. Your vampiric asshole of a boss wouldn’t like that you’re denying a paying customer.” You stuck your tongue out at the man, much to his dismay. You sipped on the whiskey, liking the way it burned as it went down your throat, grateful that you could still feel something, even if it was a drunkenness that would most likely do irreversible damage to your liver. It’s not like your life really mattered, not in this timeline, at least. 

You lazily held your glass up in his direction, blowing a few strands of loose hair out of your eyes. The man simply held up the empty bottle and gave you a tight smile. “All out. Now, would you pay your tab?” 

“Fineeee, oh my god,” you groaned dramatically, standing up from the barstool and wobbling a bit, fishing for your wallet somewhere inside your worn trench coat. When you opened it up, you came upon the discovery that it was completely empty, looking up to find fear inside the bartender’s eyes. “L-listen, I can replace that bottle, okay? I-I’ll…just need to stop by the local temp agency first.” 

“I think you should leave, before they catch wind of this…” the bartender warned you under his breath, unconsciously tugging at his collar. 

Swallowing harshly, you glanced around the crowded, dingy club past the collar of your coat, before stumbling your way past many vampire patrons that were drunk off the blood of their human pets who stayed close to them, wishing your blurry surroundings weren’t moving in slow motion. Paranoid that somebody was following you, you looked past your shoulder, only seeing the same crowd of drunken patrons. Temporarily relieved, you swiftly faced forward again, only to accidentally bump into someone face-first, your teeth clinking into the metal of their lip ring, your hands almost getting caught in the many necklaces they were wearing. “I’m so sorry, oh my god, please don’t kill me,” you automatically apologized, already knowing they weren’t human based on the lack of a collar and color in their cheeks. 

“If I wanted to, I would,” Wooyoung teased in his own special way, quite aware of the way your heart rate spiked as soon as his light, airy words reached your ears. He enjoyed playing around with his food as much as the next vampire, but lately, it’s grown quite dull, like everything else in his never-ending life.

“O-oh!” you squeaked, letting out a nervous laugh, sticking one hand into your coat pocket to wrap your fingers around the sharp stake you carried with you everywhere. 

He brought one manicured finger up to tap against the jewel sitting snugly against your collared neck, leaning in to press his lips against the slope of your ear. “I’d take you right here in front of everyone, drink you dry. Let them all enjoy the pretty sounds you’d make. Does that sound fun?” 

“Oh, you can try it, if you want,” you goaded him, looking up at him with your big doe eyes once he pulled back, wondering if he knew just how unhinged you were, just how on the edge you really were. “But, what happens if I’m poisonous? I might not be worth the stomachache.” 

Wooyoung chuckled to himself, not used to any human acting so boldly towards him. “Fair point, human.” 

“Y/N,” you corrected him, letting go of you weapon in favor of wrapping your finger around one of his silver necklaces, teasing him back in your own way. “You should at least know my name if you’re going to drink from me.” 

Wooyoung mused at your actions, studying you with his sly fox eyes, licking at the mole on his lip. He would’ve pursed you if you hadn’t suddenly gotten spooked by something, turning his head to watch you continue making your way out of the club, noticing that the owner quickly followed after you. Things were certainly getting interesting. 

By the time you inhaled the cold night air into your lungs, you had already broke out into a sweat. You let your heavy coat hang off past your shoulders and leaned back against a nearby wall, regretting all the alcohol you had subjected your poor body into taking. “Fuck me…” you groaned, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back into the cool concrete behind you, hoping that would make the world stop spinning. 

“Is that an invitation…?” asked the very vampire you had been talking shit about to the bartender just a few minutes earlier. “It’s the least you could offer me in exchange for all the whiskey you drank in my club, filthy human.” 

Your blood ran cold. “D-don’t you even think about touching me…You aren’t my owner.” 

“Oh, because of this little collar you have on? You really don’t have a clue about our kind, do you? There’s no pheromones on you, just your own filthy human scent,” the vampire chided, running his finger along the worn band of your lace collar. It made your skin crawl. You struggled to keep down all the alcohol you had drowned yourself in. Just then, he ripped it from your neck and replaced it with his slender fingers, squeezing around it until your vision grew just that more blurry. “But, don’t worry, I’ll make up for all the lost time that you haven’t been used like a proper toy.” 

Blinding rage joined the revulsion you felt for the individual that continued to toy with you as though you were a defenseless child, the culmination of it churning around inside your body like molten hot lava ready to pour out of you. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” you barked, shoving your hands into his shoulders as hard as you could, your feverish anger growing that much more when he hardly moved. 

In response, the vampire tugged your coat down and ripped open your top, causing the buttons to fly off. His abhorrent words became nothing more than radio static inside your ringing ears, once you saw red, clutching the wooden stake inside your pocket so tightly that it pierced your fragile skin. You reeled your arm back and drove it straight into the owner’s side, so violently that the wood split into shards, not letting go of it until you knew that it was lodged deeply inside him, wishing, hoping he felt even a fragment of the pain his kind had caused you. “Die,” you muttered, searching his eyes for some sign of shock, regret, grief, anything. 

Confusion overtook your flushed features when the man simply laughed directly in your face, as though he were savoring a joke that you weren’t in on, suddenly feeling a white hot burning pain inside your abdomen. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t, not while you were gurgling on your own blood. You looked down to see the hilt of a dagger sticking out of your stomach, reality hitting you like a ton of bricks, rendering it impossible to draw in air. 

“It never ceases to amuse me when a blood bag thinks they can stop someone like me with something as silly as a wooden stake,” he began, letting out a small hum, as he drove his ritual dagger in as far as it could go. He leaned in close to you, twisting the knife around inside you just to hear the delightful sounds of agony that escaped your red tinted lips. “I’ve been alive longer than your entire bloodline, pathetic human, and I’ll be outliving you tonight.” And with that, the club owner ripped the dagger back out and strolled back into the building, licking the crimson that still ran down the sides of his blade. 

You should’ve known this would happen eventually in a world like this. You had no power from the very start. Why had you been blind to the truth until this very moment, when all you could see was your precious blood leaving your body? Regardless, it was far too late to ruminate over trivial things. Death’s gentle whispers were lulling you to sleep, its sweet promises of rest numbing out most of the visceral emotions that coursed through your veins. Slumping against the wall, you held your middle with trembling hands, gazing up at the full moon that loomed over you, wanting to enjoy her beauty one last time — at least, until someone blocked your view. 

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you see I’m dying here? Let me look at the moon in peace…” you murmured, weakly glaring up at the stranger you had met inside that godforsaken club only a couple minutes ago.

“You still got some fire in you, doncha, sweetheart?” Wooyoung mused, crouching down so you were at eye level, reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. “But, you’ll die of blood loss soon…pity.”

“You’re very observant,” you replied snarkily, leaning your head back into the wall, your vision growing darker by the second. You let out a long, defeated sigh, choking a bit on the blood left inside your raw throat. “Are you just here to watch me die? If that’s the case, can you do me a favor and make it quick?” 

“You didn’t seem like the type to give up so easily.” He leaned in close to you, his crimson eyes shining that much brighter when he asked, “Don’t you want revenge?” 

His question echoed inside your mind, once as a whisper, and eventually as a desperate plea. “And what if I do…? It’s not like I can do much now…”

“Let me turn you.” He bared his fangs. “You’ll live, and you’ll be so much stronger than ever before.” He watched as your eyes widened, then returned to normal, figuring you were weighing your options, though they were vastly limited. “You’ll be free to take his life away, do with it as you please, just like he was going to do to you. Doesn’t that sound delicious?” 

A few drops of blood dribbled down the side of your mouth. The sand in your hourglass was about to run out. “What do you get in return?” 

Wooyoung’s lips curled up into a sadistic smile, his eyes resembling glowing crescent moons. “I’ll be your Master, of course. It’s only fair, being your savior, and all.” 

Though that was the very last thing you wanted, you were far too stubborn to die out in such a pathetic fashion. Not only that, but you were being offered the deal of a lifetime, at the end of your lifetime, to be exact, and in exchange for your mortal soul, you could enact sweet, sweet revenge and have a new tale to tell, one that no man or monster could ever take from you. 

“Speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Wooyoung joked slyly, tapping the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Alright, deal, but make it quick–” you were barely able to enunciate, before Wooyoung was all over you, one hand holding the side of your head, while the other felt where your artery was, immediately sinking his fangs deep into your neck to start the transformation process. 

When you came to, you looked up at your savior, your eyes as red as the blood he had sucked out of you, all of the immense pain that plagued your body gone as quickly as it came, instead replaced by an indescribable thirst. 

“How do you feel, pet?” Wooyoung asked, licking remnants of your life source from his manicured fingers. 

You bared your new, needle sharp fangs to your Master. “Hungry.” 

He smiled at you like a proud father would. “I think I know how we can fix that.” 

-

The last thing the vampiric club owner expected to see when he was sitting inside the comfort of his secluded office was the human woman he had just murdered out of cold blood stomping up to his desk and tossing it out of the way like it wasn’t made of marble. 

“H-hey, we can talk about this, right?” he asked nervously, holding his hands up, along with the stacks of cash that were in between his grubby fingers. “You want money? You can have it!” 

You grabbed him by the collar, yanking him towards you so violently, he just about broke his neck. “I don’t want money. I want your life.” 

When Wooyoung casually strolled into the cush office and pressed his back against the opaque door, the other vampire pleaded at him with his wide eyes. “Wooyoung, baby, this is your favorite club, isn’t it? Haven’t I treated you good here?” 

“Y/N will treat you good too, don’t worry,” he reassures sweetly, dragging his tongue across his pointed teeth. He brought his finger up to his chin like he just remembered something, nodding to himself. “Ahh, she does bite, though.” 

Just as Wooyoung’s cackles rang out inside the vast room, the club owner shifted his frightened gaze to you just in time to see your jaw open wide, gulping at the sheer size of your fangs. And just like that, you bit down onto the vampire’s neck, getting a good grip on his skin, before swiftly turning your head and causing a fountain of blood to rain over you. 

Once you were done feeding, there was hardly anything left of the club owner. Most of him was inside you, and the rest was left splattered across the pedestrian paintings he had up on the walls. Still sitting on the floor near scattered, bloodied hundred dollar bills, you licked up the rest of him from your fingers, your entire body vibrating with pleasure now that your killer was no longer with you, and for other reasons you couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it had something to do with your new body and your newfound love for excess.

Wooyoung clapped his hands together with giddy delight, giving the top of your head a few pats as a reward. “What a good girl. Do you feel full?” 

Shaking your head, you reached up to Wooyoung’s waistband, undoing the belt buckle and easing his pants down, licking at your red stained lips all the while. The burning, mind-melting desire to consume didn’t leave you, it only multiplied. It clouded your mind, made you feel like you might lose your mind if you didn’t make it stop. “Not enough…my throat…need it filled…” 

“Ahh, I see,” Wooyoung sighed knowingly. This always happened with the humans he turned; they turned into insatiable monsters, always driven by their need for more. He could never get tired of it. Leaning his back against the dripping wall, he reached down to slide his fingers into your soft hair, angling your head upwards, cooing softly at you as he pushed his way into your mouth. “Be careful with your fangs, sweetheart.” 

Relaxing your throat upon the sudden intrusion, you opened your mouth wider, as to not pierce Wooyoung’s cock with your new fangs, feeling content once the entirety of his twitching length fit snugly inside. It was when the vampire thrusted further into your throat that you made a wet gagging sound, tears forming inside your crimson eyes, closing them. 

“Ah, ah,” Wooyoung tutted, giving your cheek a light smack, smiling sweetly down at you when your eyes opened back up. “That’s right, you better look at me with those pretty eyes of yours if you’re going to take me down your throat like this. That’s what a good pet does.” 

Once Wooyoung started to fuck your throat, eager to fill it with his cum, his pale fingers pulling tightly at your hair, you did your best not to choke around him, welcoming him in again, over and over, until saliva and pre-cum dripped down your chin and along your bare chest.

“Mmnh….nnnhmm…” you moaned in approval, reaching up to hold onto his bucking hips, digging your nails into his protruding hip bones. You blinked more tears away, wanting to see Wooyoung’s sadistic face without the constant blurriness that plagued your vision. Whether you had a penchant for punishment or you were simply bloodthirsty, it caused you to prod at the vampire’s cock with your fangs, the tangy flavor of iron joining the abundance of precum that lubed up your throat. 

“Fuck, you’re a naughty girl, biting me like that,” Wooyoung hissed in between violent thrusts, suddenly holding your head still when the entirety of his cock was inside your throat, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, satisfied with the filthy gurgling noises you couldn’t help but make for him, feeling more of your spit drip down his heavy balls. He smacked his hand against your cheek again, watching it grow rosy, before pinching your nose tightly. “But, you can’t help it, huh? You just want to be put in your place. I can’t blame you for that.”

The sensation was suffocating, the feeling of being used added onto the constant buzz of pleasure that was running through your veins; it was nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. It almost made you wish that you had let yourself be turned a long time ago. No one could stop you now, not even him. Maybe your humanity was slipping away from you, much like your sanity with each passing moment. 

It wasn’t until you could breathe again and something warm, heavy, was pressing down on the tip of your tongue that you faded back into reality, just in time for Wooyoung to shoot a seemingly never-ending cumshot down the back of your aching throat.

“You’ll swallow, won’t you?” he asked sweetly, giving the bottom of your chin a light tickle with his clawed fingers. 

When you stuck out your tongue to show him that nothing was left, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and yanked you towards him, biting the tip of your tongue to draw blood. You watched him suck it off with half-lidded eyes, having to close your thighs together to keep a fresh wave of slick from dripping out of you. 

Before you knew it, he was on the floor with you, not even needing to pull you into his lap, groaning into your mouth as you climbed into it yourself, the heated kiss you shared consisting mostly of tongue, pointed teeth, and blood. You swapped red-tinted saliva back and forth, your hands working in tandem to tear off each other’s clothes and grope one another wherever you could, trying to create as much friction between your lower halves as you could, Wooyoung’s stiff cock rubbing deliciously into your clothed cunt. 

You broke the kiss when your thirst once again grew too strong to ignore, reaching up to run your index finger over the mole on Wooyoung’s glistening bottom lip, hissing softly when he pierced it with one of his fangs. You both watched the blood slowly trickle down along your skin, sharing a similar look with one another, before you leaned in to lap it up, your tongues meeting in the middle. 

As though telepathically connected, you reached to slip your panties off from underneath your skirt the same time Wooyoung undid the buttons of his pants, immediately rubbing at yourselves in order to get off as quickly as possible. 

“Look at me when you cum,” Wooyoung demanded between huffs of air, staring you down past his wispy lashes, the speed at which he was stroking his cock producing lewd squelching sounds, his slender fingers slicked up with his abundant pre-cum. 

Trembling, you opened up your teary eyes to look at Wooyoung, the indescribable pleasure etched into his face causing you to throb nonstop, curling your fingers up in just the right way to launch you into a world of ecstasy. “C-cumming…” 

Wooyoung groaned at the sight and feeling of your release spilling into his lap, squeezing his hand tightly around the base of his cock, hot spurts of cum landing on your abdomen and dripping down your bare cunt, not even caring that you both dirted his designer jeans with your shared arousal. “I’m gonna make you do that again, on my cock this time, you hear me?” he growled at you, lifting you up like you weighed nothing and dropping you down onto his growing erection. 

“Fuck,” you gasped sharply, holding onto his shoulders to keep your composure, your thighs still shaking from your residual pleasure, a low, burning pain present within your core  as your hole stretched to accommodate the vampire’s size. “T-too much…” 

Wooyoung’s ego just about doubled in that moment, his ringed fingers closing in on your soft waist, suddenly bucking his hips up into you like it was his sole mission to do so in the afterlife. Smiling smugly at the small, broken noises he was punching out of you with his vicious thrusts, he couldn’t help but let out a few crazed giggles. “Can’t take it now that I’m rearranging these pretty guts of yours, huh?” He mirrored your pout, his lower lip jutting out. “But, I thought you were my cum slut, my good little blood whore.” 

“I am…! I–fuck, I am, Master…!” you found yourself crying out, tears inside your hazy eyes, tasting dried blood when you wet your dry lips, knowing you wouldn’t even recognize your reflection if you saw it now. You were a new model, remolded, changed for the better. 

His hypnotic eyes began to glow. “Be a good sleeve and take it for your Master, yeah?”

You did as he said, taking everything he gave you like a pliant doll, letting him lick, bite, drink from you, and fuck you dumb for as long as his still heart desired, wondering if he was even aware of how much your blood boiled inside you. 

Wooyoung was just like the others. They were all the same, treating you like a helpless toy, using you for their enjoyment and tossing you aside when they were bored, viewing your humanity as your downfall, and perhaps they were right. Like two magnets, you couldn’t live without the other, and now, you were a monster like him, one in the same. 

Just as you both reached your climax together, holding desperately onto one another, Wooyoung’s bewitching gaze no longer holding captive, you felt a supreme power rise within yourself. You didn’t need him, not when you were now your own Master. The only thing you served now was your endless hunger. 

Wooyoung couldn’t get you off once you latched onto his neck, gasping and sputtering, his constant struggles only forcing your fangs just that much deeper into his skin and the artery you had targeted, digging his claws into your back as a last ditch effort. “But, we…we made a pact,” he coughed out, his gravelly voice reflecting the immense pain he felt. He couldn’t fight back any longer, simply slumping back against the wall to accept his fate, holding his hand up to his torn neck, despite it not doing anything to prevent the crimson from flowing through his fingers. “I don’t understand…” 

“I recall warning you that I was poisonous,” you replied softly, licking remnants of his precious life source from your stained lips. 

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes resembling half-moons. “Fair point, human…”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[sm-baby]

Lesser Evil (Able-owned Pomni)

ko-fi✏️|| Able-owned Pomni MASTERPOST🪆|| Freakshow fics MASTERPOST📚|| Freakshow AU by @hootbon 👁️

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Isolation, Implied violence, Disassociation, Disassociative Amnesia, "KYS" sort of mention

Word count: 10,649

special thank you for @thelunaglitch for donating to my Ko-fi and making this possible :] This is based on the Able-owned Pomni timeline! I'll leave yall to it!

buh-bye! o(*^＠^*)o

__________________________________________

High-pitched neighing sounded out as The galloping of horses grew louder. 

There, Able sat lovingly on his stead like a prince returning to his kingdom. And with the prince, his personal servant, draped in a beautiful blue/yellow tutu. 

Able came with the duty of speaking with his brother, And while they spoke about private business matters, Pomni was told to wait outside, in which she curtsied and followed suit. 

Pomni turned her back at the door and simply let time pass by during her visit. It was comparable only to a guard stationed for the royal palace, or-- an even fairer comparison: a car parked outside. 

These past few months, Pomni was taught about nothing but being prim, proper, poise, perfect, and most importantly: obedient. 

What a cruel place to stay, certainly nowhere for a beautiful doll like herself to be in. the torn red and yellow curtains.. the crooked floors, the blood on the walls… The sound of a body dragged by the ground or a knife hitting wood… was familiar to her, and a tiny part of herself found it comforting, but otherwise, she hadn't reacted.

It was a reminder of the concept of death... A reminder of humanity…The existence of mortality… not a very comforting subject.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar face... Most of his shape was shrouded in the dark, but she knew that distinct silhouette anywhere— only for the darkness to completely engulf him as he slowly backed away.

He left. And Pomni blinked, confused. He was staring at her no doubt about it, but why? She thought she was a lot more presentable this way.

No matter. Pomni closed her eyes and returned to her guard. She stood, and sat there, like an unwound doll. It seems she learned how to fall asleep while standing up. As she would black out for the next couple of minutes.

Pomni stood, the tip of her toes gracefully on the floor while her hands politely stayed in front of her, neat to her stomach.

And she would stay there as she disassociated…and eventually fall asleep 

*…

*...

*...

She felt a presence around her.

Pomni slowly brought herself back into consciousness and the faces’ blur lessened. As her eyes adjusted back to her surroundings the former king-turned-magician, and his assistant were standing before her.

Kinger pointed at Pomni. “ See? I told you she was here…”

“ But it can't be…” thought Ragatha.

Kinger would go over and reach for her cheek to maybe-- check signs of warmth. Just to be sure that it isn't some sort of statue… but he would yelp as her head quickly cocked up to look at them like a machine turned on.

“ Good evening.”

“ AHH!! IT TALKS!!” Kinger quickly ran back behind Ragatha, who quickly stood between them to protect kinger… but still. She seemed as confused as ever… Ragatha's eyes narrowed… staring into her face, and then back at kinger to sign something.

“... Pomni Is that you in there?” he said.

“ Yes.”

Kinger’s head perked up from behind Ragatha, and ever so slightly, his eyes dilated. But before he could get too excited, Ragatha pulled him back, signing to him again

“ You're not an NPC, are you?”

“ No.”

Kinger blinked.“ Why do you talk like that?” Despite Ragatha’s efforts to grab him, Kinger walked over to her, like a man wanting to pet a cat. Which he did. 

He put a hand over her head, and despite his gentle, shaken, touch, Pomni still backed away instinctually. Less so in a fearful manner, more so just finding such an activity unpleasant to the touch. 

“ AaaAh! Kinger!”

This action brought out a very reactionary frown from the puppet, which she hadn't expressed since she got there.

Ragatha’s eyes widened at that little detail! It is her! and she quickly walked over to join the two. Kinger continued to pet the poor little ballerina, seemingly clueless to the test that Pomni just passed. 

Ragatha waved enthusiastically as if saying hello to an old friend!

“ What? No! I- I mean- yes! But-” Pomni was slightly embarrassed. Of all the ways to identify her, it was by her being a mess. She would never let her mask slip so easily, but something about the two, the warmth, the humanity, grabbed her back. “Agh… sorry…” 

It was as if she was right back to who she was just a couple of months ago. A staggering, stuttering mess. At this point, Kinger was petting her with two hands! Oh lord.

Kinger let go of her to have a signed conversation with Ragatha. And he replied. “ …I saw Caine and his brother go in there, yeah.”

More gestures from Ragatha.

“ Oh okay, I'll go tell her—- Pomni, why don't we go to another room?... Someone gifted Ragatha a tea set a few days ago, and she can't wait to show you… It would be nice to catch up!”

From the side, she could see Ragatha get a little embarrassed at his comment.

*(The two wait patiently for her reply.)

     > Go with them.

     > Do not go with them.

     > Go with them.

“ W-Well… okay. I don't think the Master said anything about wondering.”

For a moment, Kinger paused and frog-blinked at what Pomni said! But No matter! He put his hand on Pomni’s back and started leading her forward. This was no place to catch up, no no!

     Loading…

“ Have you ever heard of the prisoner’s dilemma?” Men, wealthy as ever, whispered over to each other. Down below were the group of beloved performers, during an active show.

The one in red raised a brow. And with a smirk he replied. “ You have my attention.”

“ My bet’s on the strong one.”

“ Zooble…Okay….” He hummed. “Summoning Gangle now.”

“ Gangle?” Able laughed. “Isn't that the miserable one? Aren't these two close?”

“ Exactly,” Caine said with a smile.

One leg over the other, The brothers stared from the darkness no different from the crowd. When they weren't hosting the performance, they were watching the show, making sure everything was up to speed-- or to be more entertaining.

It seemed the two had this type of play numerous times before. And this little game was mostly amusing for themselves rather than the audience. Judging from how the Strong man grimaced and how the tragedy mask wailed, the entertainment was going to last longer than the performance itself.

     Loading new area… TIP: Ragatha knows a lot about first aid!

The three would walk around the circus halls. And despite having lived there for months before, this all might as well be a completely new discovery for Pomni. In comparison, she was a shining light within the darkness but she stared like it was the most beautiful environment she’s ever been in. The blood on the walls, the knife on the floor, the grimy, mossy corners of the circus, it was familiar, and so lived in. She wasn't used to that.

Another part of her criticism was that the tent needed some renovations, the cracks needed filling, there was mold on the broken paintings. But there was part of her that wanted to leave it alone and watch it rot. Eyes staring in fascination. She was watching paint dry and she loved the shade.

In front of her, Ragatha and Kinger were holding a conversation, and she frowned to think that they had to live in such an environment. It had been months since she’s been living with her owner and she was beyond spoiled. A strong part of her wished they all had the same privilege.

And then there was the yelling.

“ Get lost!”

“ Zooble, I promise I didn't mean to!” sobbing following after.

On their way to Ragatha’s room, just around the corner, the three would see the strongman Zooble marching towards their room, with a hostile grit in their voice that they didn't often raise.

“ We agreed not to say a word and we'd both be safe. We AGREED.”

“ I didn't mean to tell them I promise!” She cried out, begging, screaming. “I'm so sorry!”

With shaking, aggressive hands, Zooble pulled the ribbons that reached over to console them, and swung it against the wall, cracking the weeping, shivering, misery mask. Gangle was lucky that she was harder to break compared to her sister. As she got off with only a few cracks.

Their chest rose and dropped with anger, breathing heavily like a bull. Zooble had been just a little too trusting lately. Their own mistake really. 

They thought it was just her sister that she didn’t have to trust, that Zooble and Gangle have a mutual understanding of their situation, despite their shitty outcomes, at the end of the day, they were both fucked up humans who both did fucked up shit together.

To think that they could indulge in a bond of a shared trauma. That was stupidly sentimental, you'd think that they’d learn. One day they could break a thousand walls, the next they were building them.

SMASH

Gangle flinched when they broke concrete, making more cracks on her mask when Debri fell on her. 

“ Z-zoo-” 

Gangle could hardly get a word in before a door was shut in her face, and she was left back into the darkness…

It was almost like the entire room could flood with how loud she was weeping. With how many tears quickly left her. Even without outside intervention, her mask kept cracking, as if it was about to explode into little depressed pieces.

On the other side of the knot, The comedy mask rolled her eyes. “ This is getting embarrassing." 

And Gangle, the ribbon performer, was dragged up, back to the darkness of the ceiling where they would not be visible.

It was as if Kinger didn't even notice. He was on the way to open the door to Ragatha’s room before being asked… 

“ What was that about?”

“ What was what about?”

Ragatha signed.

“... Oh!” 

Kinger perked up. 

“ Zooble died just a couple of hours ago. Caine made them play a game based on trust and, uh, it didn't end well.”

“ Wh- well- I thought those two were friends…?”

“ I thought so too,” Kinger said. ” We were all really surprised by what Gangle did.” Ragatha signed.

Now Pomni didn’t particularly like Gangle, her desperation for her sister was a matter of life or death for her. Mostly death. The first time Pomni died was a core memory, and she would give anything not to live through it again. But the one thing the circus taught her was that nothing was ever black and white; mostly it was shades of dark gray, but none-the-less. 

Gangle had days of sweetness with Pomni, she remembers her trying to apologize. Although they never stuck or went through, she knew, that underneath it all, Gangle was suffering. They were all suffering. In fact she was suffering in ways Pomni couldn’t begin to comprehend. Pomni had all the right to hate Gangle, and maybe it was because she was now in a better, safer situation, but now she couldn’t. The divide between them was bigger than ever and she could finally easier say that she felt bad for her.

     Loading new area… TIP: alcohol doesn’t affect humans in the digital realm

Creak…

Pomni would find great fascination in Ragatha's room… it looked just the way it did a couple of months ago with the toy box, the piano, and the yarn kit. But she would notice-- a well-kept, almost new addition: a little table, and a tea set. 

Ragatha wouldn't usually let people stay somewhere so intimate to her, but she trusted Kinger and, although she may not have had the best relationship with Pomni, her heart was always open. Maybe this could help her get comfortable again after her absence. It was almost like the first time she arrived at the circus.

Besides, tension seemed to have risen now with the situation outside with the other members. Outside didn't exactly feel safe.

Kinger and Pomni sat around the table, while Ragatha walked over to the cabinets. It was an adjustment for Pomni to stay somewhere so bleak, but her manners hadn’t failed her. Wooden, crusty, chairs, it wasn’t the most comfortable to sit at. A part of her felt bad that this was what the two labeled as “comfortable”, but as a guest, she had no right to judge.

“It's really nice to gather around like this again like old times,” Kinger said with a smile. 

“ U-uh yeah! It really does...” 

Kinger would continue to converse with Pomni. And on Kinger’s left, Ragatha timidly put out cups for them, unable to make eye contact, yet she had such a small, almost thrilled smile on her face. In the middle of their conversation, she would clear her throat and tap Kinger on the shoulder. The tea set sat comfortably in her hands like a precious animal.

Kinger gasped “ O-Oh! Yes! Pomni! Look at what this can do!”

Pomni turned, and Ragatha poured Kinger a cup of tea, steam emitting from its gushing snout, politely making its way into the outside world. Kinger would clap as it the cup filled itself, and Ragatha was ecstatic, both later turning to the confused Pomni in front of them.

She smiled nervously, nodding. They poured some tea. Is that some sort of accomplishment? She didn't mean to be rude, but she was unsure what caused such bright disposition on their faces.

“ Uh! Yeah! That's really cool!” She frankly felt bad that she wasn't seeing what they were seeing. And so, she played along with a forced smile, though the confusion could be seen from miles away.

“ It's tea!” Kinger held the cup with a pinky finger up. “ Water! actual water with temperature, flavor, and all! And.. we don't even have to brew it! It could pour forever, see?” They both looked so happy, and Ragatha had such a spark in her eyes. She dearly blessed the audience members who pulled through to get her something so simple; it was not easy.

Pomni further crooked her brow in confusion before realizing. “Oh… oh! Uh- uh- Im so happy for you two!”

Ragatha's smile dropped.

“ I know!” Kinger said happily, swinging his head side to side to the little tune in his mind, closed his eyes, happily sipping while looking off to the side… but Ragatha was different. She noticed Pomni’s lack of enthusiasm earlier on, and the insecurities crept in. Holding her elbows and looking away, saddened and disappointed. 

“ Noo..! No, Ragatha I mean it! I do!” Pomni quickly noticed, “ It really is nice! I just…” Pomni exhaled…

Ragatha didn't budge. She wasn't sure if she wanted the reassurance or if she wanted her to drop the subject. She was trying to be good to Pomni during her visit; She wanted her to feel welcomed in her own home, not to patronize her to make her feel better.

The two girls looked away from each other. Ragatha felt insecure and Pomni felt guilty. And then there was a kinger who was chewing on play-toy-like biscuits. It had no flavor, or texture, or anything really. But he was chewing away anyway.

Good job, Pomni, You made everything awkward.

“ Ragatha really likes this tea set. “ Kinger happily said, stuffing his mouth. “ I thought you'd like it more, Pomni. We don't really get this realistic of food often.” As they spoke, Ragatha sat down.

“ I- Well- in the brothers’ realm I kind of- I already...” Pomni took hold of the tea poured for her, and she stuttered. She didn’t exactly know how to keep talking without sounding like she was gloating. She imagined saying that you have a good balanced diet isn’t the most humble thing to say to someone who was, say, in a third-world country. 

A confused look from Ragatha… but Kinger’s eyes sparkled. “ I knew there was a reason why you dressed so fancy… So that's where you've been this whole time? Did Caine cave in and kidnap you?’

“ What? No! I think.” She could never be too sure. but honestly, he might as well have. “ Last I was in the circus-- you know how I got into a major argument with Caine?”

“ Yeah, to be honest, I was expecting to see you die over and over that day.” Kinger said so casually with a chuckle… as if it was a little joke. ”I think the only reason why Caine held back was because his brother was over.”

“ Yeah, his… brother, uh... The thing is he went after me and we made a deal. Now I kinda just… live in their realm.”

“ That sounds terrible.”

“No!” She said, just a little bit too loud, but almost in a reassuring voice. “ I get good food! a comfortable place to stay… clean the house…”

Ragatha and Kinger blinked and turned to eachother. 

“ What?” Ragatha thought to herself.

Kinger spoke with a deep concern in his voice. “Is that a reward after doing them a big favor? Like maybe…Cutting a finger off… maybe three.”

“ No—! I just shook his hand and- I moved…!”

I brief moment of silence from Kinger and Ragatha. Though those few seconds felt like hell to Pomni thinking they severed their relationship right then. How exactly are two people who went through hell and back supposed to react to that? They didn’t know. Maybe they did know deep down, but to hear it so suddenly may have delayed such feelings. 

Ragatha turned to Kinger and signed.

“She says she's really jealous of you b-but, heh, We're both really jealous…” Kinger laughed sweetly. Ragatha continued.

Pomni would notice that her hands got just a little bit shyer. The way she sunk into herself, her gestures got smaller, looking away, before stopping herself altogether.

“ She's asking if we could—” Ragatha shook her hands in front of her, interrupting Kinger, shy to let Kinger continue his interpretation.

But Pomni was ecstatic to answer that question. Her eyes dilated, and her head nodded in quick enthusiasm, almost encouraging them to keep talking.  “ I-I would love for you guys to be there!! The circus is hell!”

The two snapped their heads back at her.

“ I don't know how-- b-but! I'll try talking to him about it! You- I think you two would really like all the fun activities, the new clothes…” 

The two looked at each other and Ragatha flinched when Pomni stood up from her seat, hands on the table, taken aback at her sudden enthusiasm.

“ R-Ragatha they have all sorts of good food! Chicken, red meat, seafood-- I-I'd love to cook with you some- sometime!” Ragatha’s face turned red at that. “ I-I always had trouble cutting the meat… but I think you'd be really good at it.”

Pomni then turned to Kinger. “ A-and Kinger! Y-You- I think you'd really like what I do in my spare time! knitting-- and chess, and checkers, and- and reading!”

Kinger’s eyes dilated. Pomni recalled Kinger playing with such things in the circus-- although not in the conventional way they were made for, but to think that he would be able to play in a safer environment, sounded wonderful. Pomni was describing such simple activities… and yet the two felt a special warmth in their hearts. A little bit of hope that they hadn't had in a long time.

“ W-we could do that?”

“ You could! I-... If- if Able says yes… but I'll try to make it work! He's a really nice man! Maybe if I did a couple extra favors, cleaned the house better…” Pomni started muttering, at the end talking to herself more than anything. 

Pomni speaks so highly about such simple activities but if she were to be entirely honest, she hasn't done any recreational activities back in the manor in a long time.

The checkers board and the chess set she spoke dreamily about had been nothing but collecting dust for the past few months. But to think that she could play with another person, playing cards with Kinger, eating dinner with Ragatha. friends. Other living breathing human beings who share her grief, her sense of purpose. 

That was what she was speaking highly of. 

That's what she wanted.

Even with just her short stay here, despite the grueling atmosphere, She hasn't felt so human in such a long, long time. Heaven was lonely and she wanted to take them with her.

“ Well, that does sound very lovely, doesn't it…” Kinger turned. “ Ragatha?”

Kinger didn't have to translate this one. With a smile, Ragatha happily nodded her head.

The three would continue their conversation, The simple indulgence Pomni brought onto the table, telling tales of all the things she'd been doing at the manor, and the life all three of them could lead together. 

The conversation brought something out about each other. Ragatha does remember cooking nice meals, and Kinger does remember having simple activities such as board games next to a nicely brewed cup of coffee and a lovely outside porch. To think that they could have at least a slimmer of that in a new, cleaner, safer environment, it sounded like a dream.

It didn't take long until the conversation turned into a more lighthearted tune. Their dreamy chatting would turn into laughter over jokes only old friends shared, or the whispered gossiping from one mouth to another. 

Ragatha spoke about how she once swung a knife at an audience member which they somehow enjoyed, but was then later punished for it later on. She laughed at the memory, both she and Kinger did. Pomni felt like she shouldn’t be giggling at it. But their little faces, the way they coped about it, she couldn’t help but indulge no matter how harmful the mechanism could be. She saw their faces and only wished to fit in again.

Their conversation would be cut short, however, as 

RING! RING! RING!

Oh crap. 

An old rotary phone popped out of thin air, and Pomni quickly picked it up. “ Hello?”

Ragatha and Kinger blinked. What A fancy new phone! They knew that it was the brother’s preferred way of communication. To think that they’d allow her to use the same communication line only further reminded them how much less they must be compared to her.

“ I-I’m in Ragatha’s room…” 

Chatter from the other side.

“ Yes, master…No, no master…Yes.” Pomni spoke “ Well I- I was… Oh, we’re leaving?” She bit her lip. “ A-Actually I was wondering if they could-” 

Chatter on the other side. 

“ Yes… Sorry, master. Okay.” 

It was as if Pomni’s whole demeanor changed. She may not have noticed it as she was usually a nervous wreck, but the way her back instinctually straightened, he legs just a little tense. She even called him master… god. To ragatha it was admittedly a little pretentious… Kinger thought nothing of it.

Click!

And so, Pomni had to head off. And she stared off into the distance before she started speaking again. The look on her face was a sort of dread rather than any sort of relief one might expect…especially coming back to the so-called “haven” she’d been praising for the past hour or so.

“ Heading home huh? Exciting!” Kinger said, and Ragatha smiled, excusing the pit of jealousy she felt inside her.

Without even turning to them, Pomni stood up from her seat and, with slow and graceful steps, walking by the tip of her toes, she bowed. And back came that monotone voice she had on earlier that day. “ It was a wonderful evening with you, but It seems my master is done with his duties.”

After bidding eachother farewell, thank yous, and apologies, Kinger and Ragatha offered to escort her back, but Pomni was insistent on not. She much rather let them rest and leave them to their own devices. And so she left, leaving the door to the room quietly.

Click!

Pomni took a deep breath but kept her composure. Not having them escort her was her own decision; there was really no harm in it. She just wasn’t very good at goodbyes. And in a way, her walk back to meet her master was her mentally bidding herself farewell to the circus in her own comfort. Tip of her toes touching the ground, It was as if she was holding her breath the whole time she walked back.

On her way there, she stopped in her tracks. On her right, Pomni was faced to faced with a room, and it came to her that she hadn’t seen her door the whole way there. It never really came to mind, at most she thought it would be crossed out, emptied, or replaced by a mannequin… She didn’t notice it earlier with how heavily vandalized it was, but from its position and the order of the doors, Pomni would realize that the entrance with the broken hinges, and the panel so heavily beaten… 

Pomni wiped off the dust that covered its face. 

That was her door.

She didn’t even have to turn its handle. The moment she placed any sort of weight on it, it opened. And the look of her room almost broke her entire disposition. 

Kinger’s voice from earlier in their conversation echoed in her mind. 

“ We thought you were dead, Pomni.” 

The shards of glass on the wall, the wallpaper torn to the floor, the dusty debris from her old cabinets, and her old tea set shattered into the smallest of pieces. Pomni couldn’t even recognize her old bed… the blanket, her sheets, the pillows fluff torn everywhere. 

The pictures she had on her bedside of her and her friends were ripped into pieces, her dresses, her bows, her makeup… Everything, the littlest things that used to bring her comfort during hard days on the circus, were gone, and broken into pieces.

Kinger’s voice continued. “ Yeah… Caine really didn’t take it well the day you left.” 

Mixed emotions. She couldn’t pick, she was so caught in the middle. Confused, terrified. Her body lay still, but just a little too still. 

From the graceful stance she was taught to hold, she was instead the equivalent of a deer in headlights. It was as if another part of her life, the last bit of her humanity was violated and killed right in front of her. Her breath hitched. Her breathing was panicked, and heavy.

Pomni felt a hand on her shoulder and she whipped her head back, flinching with a strong sense of panic. 

It was just Ragatha. But even with her sorry, gentle eyes, Pomni’s legs shook, scared, terrified. She didn’t know what to think, or do, or trust anymore. She lost all grace as her professional walk turned into a run, shaken legs slowing her down, but she didn’t want to be there anymore. Though Ragatha tried to reach out for her, Pomni was quickly taken into the darkness, out of sight. 

Pomni… REALLY didn’t do well at goodbyes.

That night, Pomni’s eyes went sore from her tears. Her whimpers were akin to a weeping child, hurt abused, and shielded herself from the outside world. Her heart ached, sobbing, desperately crying for someone’s touch, for someone to reach over and wipe those tears away. the images of broken glass, broken wood, and ripped sheets on the floor repeated in her head. 

She thought it was all over... but any sort of contact with the circus seemed to retraumatize her in newer and newer ways. She could hardly sleep. Voices in her head echoed screaming, pleas, and apologies when it was previously so deafeningly silent.

Something in her felt violated from the inside. She left her soul at the circus and they ripped it to shreds. She just lost a part of herself, the last bit of humanity she had left. And so Pomni cried. That’s all she could ever do. ruined, disheveled hair, underneath the blankets. Pomni cried hugging herself like a mother holding her baby.

Although she tried to feel human-- cleaning around the Manor, cooking, eating, taking baths… It all felt so fake. She stopped doing a lot of recreational activities. 

When she was not needed, she would stare at the ceiling as she lost interest in the world around her. She wasn’t real. The world around her wasn’t real. She wasn’t human anymore… The real Pomni died as soon as she entered the circus, deluded into thinking there was a chance to leave. She was living the best-case scenario in the digital world, and now that she’d seen it, she wanted to die.

“ One, two, three, and- one two three and… No, No, Pomni, you’re doing it wrong.”

Snapping his fingers, Able restarted the record player and approached Pomni. She had been just a little bit rusty today, getting his breakfast wrong, and lost her timing in her routines. No matter. All she needs is a partner and she’ll be right back to her senses. 

For the past hour or so, Pomni and Able joined eachother dancing in their pastime. He took hold of Pomni’s hand and onto her waist where would start, this time: ballroom. 

Able counted, and the numbers drifted away when they were right back to moving smoothly. After a while, Able hummed to the tune of the record players, holding Pomni firmly with his large gloved hands. 

Why, what a lovely way to start your morning. The fake sounds of birds outside weren’t off-putting at all.

Able dipped her, and asked, “ What’s on your mind dear?”

*(You reply…)

     > Lie

     > Truth

     > Lie

“ Nothing, just… slept wrong is all.”

“ Is that why your heart was at 200 bpm last night?” he clicked his teeth in disapproval. “ I may be a computer Pomni, but I’m no fool. Humans don’t go to bed at that high of a heart rate.”

Able twirled Pomni and she frowned at his reply. She didn’t have the energy to hide anything she supposed…

*(What to say…)

     > The Manor

     > The Circus

     > The Manor

“ Master, I don’t mean to be ungrateful or anything but… the Manor... Doesn’t it get a little lonely?”

“ Lonely, lonely…” he shook his head playfully. “ I have my brother… I have my wonderful maid, Pomni. What else do I need? Truthfully us AI don’t exactly need company, dear.” 

Pomni went silent. She tried dancing around the subject and she got her answer. She knew he wouldn’t understand. 

“ Don’t tell me that you feel lonely. ”

Pomni bit her lip. Those were thoughts that she kept buried for politeness. But how is she supposed to deny them now that he was grabbing it out of her? “...Sometimes.”

“ Awh, Pomni…”

“ Able, what do I have to do to get my friends in here? R-Ragatha and Kinger?”

Their dance stopped. That was all so sudden. And her speech was much more informal than usual. Actually, Pomni hasn’t had that insistent of a tone of voice in a long long time. 

 “ Pomni…” he hummed sweetly. 

“ We- We talked about it yesterday! and- and I think It would be good! “

Able held her in place, and in reply she started gripping at him, getting tighter as she spoke. 

“ Good f-for everyone really! N-not that the Freakshow is bad, but uhm-” Pomni lied. Her voice grew desperate.“ I could use the company! Ragatha, Kinger, and I could provide some better service! Ragatha can play the piano for you and-”

“ Dear…”

“ and… and…” her voice grew quieter and quieter. As tears started forming on her face, she sensed disappointment in herself. She wasn’t very convincing, in fact, she must have been so pathetic on the outside. 

“ There there, dear…” Able took his hands and wiped her little tears away from her face. And she looked up at him mentally cursing herself for being unable to feel less child-like. “ You’re feeling lonely… so you want your friends to join you here, is that correct?”

“ …M-Mhm..” She sniffed, and Able put a bit of hair to her side, holding her cheeks gently which she desperately found comfort in. His voice was so soft at the moment, hushing her as if she were an injured animal.

But Able sighed and looked to the side, and later put a hand between his chin and mouth, half muffling his words “ I was afraid you’d say that…”

“ What?”

“ It isn’t easy to bring you performers in the mansion dear, let alone permanently... I had to pull a couple of strings just to have you be part of my staff-- I don’t think 2 more is possible. ”

“ I-I’ll help! Whatever I have to do to make the process easier, You name it, I’ll do it! ”

“ It’s not that easy… And for the sake of my brother and I, it’ll only do damage in the long run.” 

Able to let go of Pomni in which she found herself making extra effort to loosen her grip.

” My Brother and I’s core purpose is to entertain and run the Circus. And if it were to lose more and more performers, the circus would… well… Let's just say we were sent a lot of complaints when you were no longer on stage.”

“ But… there has to be a compromise… You can write new conditions, can’t you?”

“ No more, Pomni.” He put a hand up to get her to stop talking and she followed… “ I’ve known Ragatha and Kinger even before the Freakshow; I understand, they’re very wonderful people… But their place is there, and your place is here. You’re safe. You have a good place to sleep. Isn’t that enough?”

Pomni stayed silent. She looked down at the floor… Disappointed but no longer had any tears to cry. She was exhausted… and in return, she failed to answer his question.

“ Pomni… “ Able saw this and held both her hands on one hand, and her face in the other. And as if Able popped up from thin air, she flinched, but quickly buried her face into his touch and the euphoria it brought her. “ I said, isn’t that enough?” 

With a shaky sniffle, she nodded her head to say yes. Able has done so much for her… but she didn’t feel the sincerity in her own answer.

“ There we go,” 

Just as Able was going to pull away, Pomni grabbed his hand and put him back. “ Can I… stay with you today?”

Able was slightly taken aback, but nodded.“ Of course.”

     Loading new area… TIP: Raise your pinky during tea with the blue ringmaster! 

For the rest of the day, Able would be at home, getting his work done long distance and keeping his doll company. And while he did, Pomni would be sat in the same room, either doing her own activities like knitting, or just standing there to look pretty. Her eyes looked dead like usual, not different from how she was that morning. 

There was nothing really in the manor to change her view on anything. Able was kind enough to be there with her, and she did enjoy his company to some extent, but she still felt like decoration beside him. He was AI, nothing compared to a human’s warmth. At some point, she felt like he was just saying what she wanted to hear. 

Caine opened the door “ Meeting time-- oh and leave your doll here why don’t you? We’re professional here.”

“ No.” Able hummed sweetly, and got up from his seat. “It's not just it, brother, she’s a she. Pomni happened to have a particularly hard day today, and wishes to stay by me.”

“ And what exactly does a toy have to be stressed out about?”

“ None of your business.” Able frowned.

Even though Caine hadn’t moved, Able stood in front of her, subtly protective. Though his voice turned just a little sour, “ What? Can you not focus because a toy was in your general vicinity?”

“ You speak for yourself, I have--” Caine sighed and caught himself. They were getting along just a moment ago. In fact, they’ve been getting along much better than they’ve ever had recently… but it’s always Pomni. It seems any talk about her quickly put them in a petty mood. “ I don’t want to argue today, brother, okay? We have bigger matters to tend to.”

And as if at the flick of the switch, Able’s body became less protective, humming a small chuckle as if it wasn’t “fun” to hold that stance anymore. “ Very well.”

     Loading New Area… TIP: A clean servant means a happier master!

Another adjustment Able had to make while having Pomni around was walking. An adjustment that Caine also had to painstakingly follow for the afternoon. Usually, they would just snap their fingers and teleport to their meeting room, now with Pomni, a human, they couldn’t just do that. Not to mention with how she had a weak stomach she would easily make a mess if they teleported her with them. God, the things they do for that measly little doll…

This was more than inconvenient. And as if they didn’t care for her existence they started speaking about work in front of her.

“ The Candy NPC just had too many functions, it tried to do things all at once”

“ I told you we should have just split them into two.”

“ I didn’t think three whole game mechanics was too much.”

Able clicked his teeth.

They chatted and chatted, and Pomni’s eyes would stay on the floor. Their voices drowned out and muffled, she didn’t really see a reason to get back from her disassociation, nore did she want to. 

Just as her vision started to blur as well, her thoughts were interrupted by a loud alarm coming from the brother’s watches, blaring red and loud, causing the three to stop in their tracks while Pomni covered her ears.

“ Oh. System breach.” Caine sighed, slightly annoyed. This walk to their meeting room is longer than her remembered. With how easily he teleports from place to place, he supposed it was the first time he actually felt the scale of how big a manor can be.

“ I thought I fixed that just yesterday…”

“ Did you.” Caine said, unamused, a playfully disappointed look at his brother.

“ Don’t you start that tone with me. ” Able joined him, Putting a hand on his chest dramatically.

Strangely, when they weren’t bickering, their casual banter was more akin to friendly competition. One could almost tell how close their relationship was from how light hearted their insults were. 

“ I swear if I find that it’s one of your errors, you’re taking more of my load for the next adventure.” Able said.

“ It’s a bet.”

“ Ha! Cocky, aren’t we?” Able then turned to Pomni who was just calming down from the surprise alarm. “ Pomni, I’ll have to leave.” 

“ Y-Your leaving? but-”

“ This isn’t something that can be fixed long distance. I’ll be right back in a few minutes, don’t worry!”

“ O-oh… okay..”

After patting her hand and her back, Able would snap his fingers, and in a split second, he disappeared… 

Pomni was just a little tense. Although the day was almost over, she was really hoping to spend it around him… She put a lot of her safety in his presence that day… And now she was back to being alone…

… her bad, she wasn’t alone.

While Able disappeared, Caine was left to wait with her.

Oh boy.

It’s been a couple of months since she was owned, and for those past couple months, Caine seemed to have completely moved on from her. 

Lately, he and Able were able to find a resolution, talking out their differences like men, and they’ve been closer ever since then. Maybe it was at the back of her mind, but she noticed this with how they started talking about other interests and Able left the house to spend more time with him. 

When around her, the brothers would more or less pretend she wasn’t there, especially Caine. Pomni wondered if this was a boundary they set up for each other. Though this doesn’t mean that Pomni wasn’t prone to insults or backhanded compliments from both parties. 

The hallway was more than silent to say the least, a strong contrast that took place mere moments before. They had nothing to say to eachother. Neither Caine nor Pomni did.

But strangely… Maybe this was her desperation kicking in, with her master leaving the building, but Pomni wasn’t against Caine being there… In fact, she would have hated much more if he wasn’t there.

Caine cleared his throat and stood still as the awkwardness of the situation grew. He didn’t know what to do. Pretending that you were busy during an awkward situation was a human thing, he never needed to do that. And yet at the corner of his eyes, he could sense her staring at him. 

And it made him feel… strange.

Maybe it was her intrusive thoughts kicking in, but Pomni had thoughts that she wasn't used to. Why did she feel… at ease being alone with Caine? She didn't mind it, but she didn't wanna get used to it. 

And so Pomni turned away from him.

This little action however wasn’t taken so kindly from the other party. Caine would curse himself-- why did she turn away?! 

He finally got her attention again unprompted and she stopped! What, did she think she was better than him? Was he not good enough for her?! She was the performance to be laughed at, not him! 

This boiled something up inside of him, though he held a great poker face…. But a few moments later, he stepped back, just a little bit, and assessed his thoughts.

He knew this feeling, 

He thought he got over this.

The grip on his cane loosened and his back straightened. He cleared his throat and further turned away from Pomni. 

When was his brother coming back? Minutes felt like hours, he couldn’t come any slower.

“ …How have to been treating my brother? Good, I hope.”

“ Good.” Pomni cleared her throat. “ How is… how is the… Circus?”

“ Good.” It seems Caine wasn’t any better at answering how-are-yous… “ The performers talk about you often. The audience isn’t any better.”

That brought up a small smile from Pomni… and a small laugh too that greatly affected Caine’s mood. Funny how the smallest mention of her friends was enough to get such a reaction from her. Especially after the lack of anything the whole day.

“ They do…?”

If Caine had a lip he'd bite it. He doesn’t know how to feel about that little tone in her voice. It was a strange feeling, hate perhaps? That sounds about right for him.“ … yes.” 

Pomni took a step towards him and the sound of her heel made him flinch. “ Could you … tell me more?”  that tone of voice was softer, innocent even. He felt such a physical reaction towards her at that moment-- did he want to attack her?

He took a deep breath to calm himself, then turned to her, his eyes stoic as ever, his arms crossed, looking down at her like he always has. “ Your little stunt talking to the performers yesterday was wreckless. After Jax learned that you were alive this whole time, he’s never wanted to kill you more than he ever has..”

“ Did he?”

“ You know i told them you were dead for your own protection. You’re much higher class compared to them now, Why in the world would you choose to mingle around those freaks? ” Caine spoke in such a scolding voice, but to his surprise, Pomni laughed… giggled, more so, but the way she had the back of her hand covering her mouth wasn’t expected.

“ Pfehehe… That's Jax for you… I remembered the first time he killed me during a performance-- when you wouldn’t punish him, Ragatha did…” 

She looked back up at him, warming up to him faster than what he was comfortable. Her eyes were big and warm. Her voice sounded euphoric and melancholy as if she could sit there and listen to every word he had to say.  

Caine couldn’t handle it. His urges disturbed him.

* (Continue?)

     > Stop while you’re ahead.

> Hear more about what your friends have been up to.

     > Hear more about what your friends have been up to.

“ A-and... what else did-?” like a trigger, Pomni reached over to touch his arm, and Caine retaliated by grabbing her by her wrists and moving her backward, to a door that opened and closed behind them.

Loading new area… TIP: Offering the brothers wine could help you gain their favor.

Pomni would be thrown inside the room, before turning back to the red ringmaster, who was locking the door in front of her. 

She looked around, a part of her was confused, and the other part was scared.

“ C-Caine?”

Without even turning around yet, Caine said sternly, like a command. “ Speak when spoken to.”

Pomni quickly nodded and stood straight, hands in front of her, formal like she had earlier that day. 

God… did she step out of line? God damn it, Pomni you screw up! Your master isn’t there to save you this time, what were you thinking??

What was he thinking?? She knew that he could get pissed off but being locked in a room with him was new. He could very well berate her outside, it wouldn’t make a difference! She looked down in thought, punishments ran through her head-- she thought of the ones she used to endure in the circus, and she bit her lip. She wasn’t ready to live through that again… maybe she could come up with an excuse! Think, Pomni, think!

After locking the door, Caine took a deep breath, as if preparing for something, and finally turned around.

He turned back to his brother’s doll, being as formal as ever, stood straight, well behaved… exactly how he trained her to be. 

What was wrong with him? Just a moment ago, he was getting along with his brother, the next, he was playing with his toys behind his back. What a rotten brother you are, Caine..

But there was just something about Pomni, it brought up feelings that he hadn't felt in a long long time… feelings that he remembered he felt strongly…and so who's to blame him for chasing something so strong? So curious? She was just a doll after all. Who cares?

“ Pomni, would you kindly tell me who I am?”

“ You are ringmaster Caine, an AI program set to entertain the audience. Praised like a god and one of the most powerful men in the digital realm.”

“ Now tell me who you are.”

“ My name is Pomni, a human transported to the digital world. I was a circus performer turned servant to the AI household. My purpose is to serve Ab-”

“That's enough.” just like Able, He put a hand up to tell her stop talking. The servant quickly turned silent. “ So Pomni, tell me. Why in the world, did you think that you were good enough to touch me?”

Caine was practically right in front of her; she felt claustrophobic. She was sure he could feel her breathing at this point. 

Pomni didn’t have an appropriate answer to that question. What reason does she have that wasn’t selfish? She swallowed, and in an effort for Caine not to read her fear, she kept her head down, trying to keep a calm voice.

“ I don’t know.”

“ You don't know.” Caine turned his head to the side, little sorry eyes looking down at Pomni. She flinched when he used a finger to turn her head up, and there was a part of her, a strong part of her that didn't mind what she saw.

“ What did he do to you, Pomni?”

The look on his face…

She missed it.

She missed it so much, she wanted it back.

She missed how he patronized her when she made a small mistake.

She missed when he forced her to go on adventures every day.

She missed running away from death, she missed the fear of her life flashing before her eyes, she missed Ragatha, Kinger, Gangle, Zooble, and Jax, she missed her friends.

At that moment she didn't want life to end here. She wanted to live again, she wanted to be anywhere but this god-forsaken hell hole. If her friends couldn't join her in heaven then she'd rather be stuck with them. There was nothing here. Nothing.

She’d much rather die every day rather than wishing for it everytime she woke up. She missed it. She missed her friends. She missed humanity.

The way he touched her felt like something she should be scared of, but within her fear, she ached for more. She liked how much he scared her. Even walking into the circus yesterday, the blood on the walls, she felt more humanity in those few hours than she had in the past few months and she craved it back. 

It wasn't too late to turn back now, she could still be fixed. 

He could fix her.

Caine kept staring. Was it worth it to lock her in a room just to gawk at her so shamelessly? Perhaps. He didn't think he could handle being seen indulging in something so below him.

Something about Pomni felt bittersweet. She was gorgeous, but dare he says he feels… sad… when he looked at her. He missed her duo-coloured tutu. The way how big her eyes got when she looked up at him.

He sighed, tilting his head to the side. He found his thumb caressing her cheek… she was so beautiful. So beautiful. If only he could take her to the circus for just one day. Have her perform and make him clap his hands. He sure would like to see her dance again.

And that look in her eyes…

Oh, that look in her eye was unmatchable.

Pomni held the hand that cupped her cheek, and the warm feeling only doubled in his head. He really wanted her back. He froze at how strong the urge was to just-- take her and steal her away. 

“ Brother? Pomni dear?” A voice just from outside the room called out. Able was back. And despite Caine’s unflinching stare, He knew he was back. He was willing to ignore him if it meant indulging in this old feeling for a little while longer, Pomni however… She was almost terrified.

She stared at the lock separating her master from seeing the strange sight, something that they both shamelessly indulged in. 

What was she doing? 

*(How does Pomni respond?)

     > Call out for Able

     > “ Take me back.”

     > “ Kiss me.” 🔒

     > Say nothing 

     >  “Take me back”

And in desperation, before his brother could find out they were there, Pomni bent down to her knees, grabbed Caine by his coat, and looked up at him. “ Take me back!” she said in a whisper.

“ What?”

“ Take me back!” she repeated just a little louder. “ I can’t stand another day here, how I long for your performances again- your shows! Let me perform for you and your people again, please!”

In an effort to make her stand up, he grabbed a hold of her hands, but he froze the more Pomni spoke. There she was, on her knees, praising him, telling him the words that hes wanted to hear for the past couple of months. It was addicting. He couldn't get enough.

He knew this was wrong, he couldn't possibly just take her back. But the more she praised his name, his brilliance, his art, he didn't want her to stop. He wanted to squeeze every pathetic plea from her… 

He wanted to hear every piece of praise, admittance of guilt, of regret in her voice. And the more she went the stronger the urge to just steal her and wisk her back to the circus. Good lord, it took everything in him. The hands on hers shaking in defiance of that strong urge. Shes making it so hard. 

She spoke and it threw him back to his old mindset. The progress he made with his brother was gone at that moment. He was RIGHT. He was correct this whole time. He had all the right to act the way he did. She DIDN'T like his brother, he knew it! He knew she liked him more! 

Oh she was saying more than enough for him to hear. At this point, she was just flattering him. And a part of him grieved her… 

It almost physically hurt him not to steal her for himself at that moment. His hands turned to stiffness-- everything in his body froze in an effort to stop himself from doing something he'd regret. 

No… he can't have her.

Caine signed the papers, and he can't turn back from it. Neither could she. 

If only she made that decision a few months earlier… everything would be so much easier.

With a sharp exhale, he snapped and Pomni was back on her feet.

Pomni looked back up and Caine turned away from her.

Click! The door unlocked 

Shaken voice, shaken knees, desperation she called out 

“ C-Caine-”

“ Brother! In here!”

The door unlocked and in came Able, hat on his chest. “ Oh, there you two are! What in heaven's name are you two doing in this little room? ”

Pomni was silent, holding back the amount of emotion in her heart. For a moment Caine glanced at her, but looked back to his brother. “ She just wanted to do a little cleaning while you were gone, make herself useful, you know.”

“ And you?” 

“ Am I banned from being around your toy now?”

“ No, no no no~” he hummed playfully and put his hat back on his head. “ Come, meeting time. Pomni, Im proud that you decided to do a little cleaning, but this room doesn't get used. No need, dear!” Able held her hand and escorted her out of the room…

Pomni stared at the floor and the men kept talking.

“ Say, why would you even let her clean that room anyway?”

“ She's your toy...”

But the ringing in her ear has never been louder… and the muffling of peoples voices has never been stronger. She was disassociated to the extreme. 

Even after begging, pouring her heart out, and putting her biggest weaknesses and desires front and center, she was met with… nothing.

Abandonment. 

She was screaming out for help but no god heard her plea. Not even the one in front of her.

She couldn't take it anymore but at the same time, there was nothing left to do. 

What can she do? 

In a world considered human, she was the most out of place. 

Another reminder: You aren't human anymore, Pomni. Time and time again you delude yourself into so much false hope. 

When will you ever learn?

Pomni doesn't remember what happened for the next few hours. She remembers the images of sitting with the brothers in the meeting room, cooking dinner for Able, and joining him while they ate, but as the world flew by around her, her mind stood still. 

Nothing was important anymore. 

This was her ending. 

This was her forever. 

The sadness left over has numbed. Time heals all wounds but each second felt like a stab to the heart.

There she sat, with Able at the manor’s living room. He was lounging, his coat off, finally being able to rest and recharge after a hard day of work. 

Pomni sat knitting, getting lost in her thoughts. Able provided the feeling of rain from the outside. 

It wasn't raining it was all artificial. It was just the ambiance of rain hitting the window and ceiling, the particles of rain outside, and making the atmosphere just a little colder. That was enough to trick the brain into actual rain. She bet if she reached her hand out the window it would come back dry. 

The sound of rain was an audio file not different from the sounds of birds she hears every morning. She memorized every chirp, what second another came in. But she looked outside and there was nothing there. Fake. 

In her early days, it was something she could brush off as just another quirk. Nowadays she let herself believe that all that artificial nonsense was real, perhaps, for the sake of her sanity. 

This time the sound of rain continued on, and she wore a blanket over her shoulder.

Pomni blinked and a tear fell down her cheek. She tried to wipe it off, but a sniffle gave her away.

“ What’s wrong, dear?”

“ I just… i miss my friends a lot, that's all.”

“ You still do, don't you? I understand it must hurt so much to be away from other humans…” he hummed, and put a hand on his chin in thought… and he came up with an idea. 

As Able stood up to put on his coat again, he spoke: “ Tell you what. I'm about to go and spend time with my brother, why don't we leave our phones with you, and you can talk with them for however long you like.”

Pomni looked up at him, “ You'd do that for me?”

“ I don't see why not. We won't be using it anyway. I'm sure my brother wouldn't mind just this once.”

He summoned his phone and the other side picked up. He would enter a conversation with his brother, and Pomni continued to knit tiredly, already half expecting it not to go through. She's had enough false hope today. 

But to her surprise, Able handed Pomni the phone and left it at the desk where she could reach it.

“ For you, dear.”

As Able was getting ready to leave, Pomni was waiting for the line. There was still a part of her that didn't believe it would pick up, but the way her feet shook in anticipation..

She did want to have this phone call…

“ Pomni?”

Pomni stopped for a moment…

It actually worked…

…Kinger,,,

Pomni was quiet… but before she could reply, Able, with a smile, had already teleported out of the room.

“ Hello? Is this thing on?”

“ Hi, Kinger...”

“ IS THAT POMNI ON THE PHONE??” a loud voice further in the phone called out.

“ Jax… let them talk…” the sound of a weeping voice rang.

“ Hey, kinger! While you're at it, do me a favor and tell Pomni to kill herself would’ja?”

“ Second that!” The happier mask added, and a slew of laughter rang on the phone.

“ I’m not telling her that..!”  Kinger in his shivering voice replied, he sounded fragile yet still annoyed. “ I'm sorry if you heard that Pomni, we're.. we're having dinner...”

And yet Pomni couldn't help but let out a little laugh. “ Was that Jax?”

Kinger joined her. “ Well of course, who else would it be?” He said kindly. “ Oh! And Ragatha says hi too.”

“ Y-Yeah? Hi, Ragatha! I-I hope you’ve been holding up okay.“

A pity chuckle from Ragatha on the other side, and Pomni felt her heart warm up to hear any sound from her … let alone a chuckle.

“ Ragatha’s asking if you're genuinely asking her that… wow, Ragatha you're really sassy today!

…

She shrugged.”

More chuckling from Pomni.

“ Anyway, I say hi too, Pomni. So. Hi!”

“ Hi, Kinger… it's really nice to hear from you again.”

“ How's everything in the brother’s realm? Have you been learning new recipes since yesterday? It must be so tasty compared to our dinner today, haha!” Kinger said again, as a joke, but Pomni bit her lip, voice trembling as she tried to hold back her tears.

“ Y…Yeah… I sure have.”

“ That’s nice to hear… maybe one day you could bring some for us. Even if you did have trouble cutting the meat.”

“ Haha… god, you remembered…!” 

Pomni’s voice this time further worsened, and she mentally cursed at herself for letting it slip out, though she prayed that Kinger wouldn't notice. 

This was NOT the time to cry, Pomni… god damn it, couldn't she hold a single conversation with out bursting into tears??

“ Oh… Why the sad tone?”

These tears were different compared to the ones that she had been crying for the past few days.

Back then she was crying over how bad she had it, now, she was crying over the broken promise for Kinger and Ragatha. She was grieving over having a good roof over her head while her friends had to fight for food. 

This was a whole new heartbreak. She was so ashamed, and frankly disappointed in herself that she couldn't get them out of their terrible situation. Kinger the sweetest man, and Ragatha one of the strongest people she knew, they were suffering and there was nothing she could do about it…

“ I’m so sorry, Kinger…” Pomni said, her voice starting to sob from over the phone.

But kinger couldn't put any amount of blame on her, and instead, he continued on with his soft voice. “It's okay, Pomni. To be honest, me and Ragatha… we're sort of… used to false hope, you know? We don't take anything to heart much anymore.”

Pomni sniffed and nodded her head, hearing what he had to say. It was a sad thought, but she had no right to argue with it.

“ Don't beat yourself up over it, Pomni. You weren't the one who put us here… You just wanted to live a better life, and you did… we would have all done the same thing if we were you...”

And there it was… the voice Pomni had been desperate to hear every time she cried. The motherly voice for her child-like tears. And like a child, she sobbed, while Kinger spoke in a tone like a mother wiping away the tears of her baby. For the first time in awhile, tears fell from her eyes and they actually felt heard. It all came flowing down and it was welcomed.

“ There there…” Kinger hummed. “ I can’t do much, but if you were here I’d take this tablecloth and wipe it over your eyes! Haha!”

Pomni laughed through her tears. “ I have napkins if that helps…”

“ Not as good as the dirty table cloth but that works.” Kinger joked, and Pomni wiped her tears away. “ But seriously Pomni, just be good… enjoy the freedom for us maybe. I can't speak for the others but i guess there is a sort of comfort in knowing that one of us made it out.”

“Okay…” Pomni didn't have the heart to truly promise that and mean it, but if the thought made Kinger happy, then shes happy to let him believe it. 

Kinger really was the only person she never really had a gripe with during her entire stay of the circus. He was pleasant to be around and minded his own business… Even with Ragatha, although she was great, they had a bit of unresolved tension… maybe they could somehow get to fixing it one day. After all, time was all she had.

One day.

For the next couple of years, for all eternity, Pomni’s days would repeat 

over. 

And over. 

And over again.

She will shed many many tears and cry herself to sleep, until she was physically unable to. She's going to experience a new flavor of agony that she's never experienced before. And she's going to cry harder tears than she's ever had before. 

But at that moment, at the time, on the phone she spent the little humanity she had left talking to the fellow abused, telling eachother white lies to keep eachother comforted and sane. 

They told eachother everything was going to be okay as their heart beats slowed down. And maybe that was all they needed. Maybe that was all they could do.

As they all died together, hushing each other and wishing each other goodnight might be the only thing they had left.

Good night, Pomni. 

Good night, Kinger.

Good night, Ragatha.

We'll see you all in the morning.

[kayewrite]

Blue Sticky Note

straykids fic wherein a mysterious note confession appears in your binder. Unsure of who left it, you embark on an investigation among your eight close friends, each with their own quirks and possibilities.

genre: Fluff. and fluff

ot8 x reader! stray kids x reader!! word count: 3.3k

AN: i want to make a fic with multiple members in it but i might make more of it after i finished all individual members. btw can you teach me how tumblr works? i might pin a masterlist soon hehe

You just got back to your apartment after a long day of classes. Exhausted from wrestling with numbers and equations, you flopped down on your bed and closed your eyes.

But your moment of peace was interrupted by the sudden ringing of your phone.

“Hey,” your friend Seungmin’s voice greeted you through the speaker.

Used to how he always greeted you, you sighed and listened as he continued, your tiredness making it hard to focus.

“You didn’t turn in your literature assignment. I’m on my way to your building,” he said, causing you to bolt upright in surprise.

You had forgotten to give it to him during class earlier. Glad he reminded you. And you were glad to be friends with him because he was the class representative. You enjoyed a lot of benefits from being his friend.

“Okay, thanks for the reminder. No need to come up—I’ll meet you downstairs,” you replied before ending the call.

Grateful for Seungmin’s help, you quickly gathered your things and checked your binder for the assignment. You sighed in relief when you found it. “I thought I lost you.”

As you were about to close your binder, a flash of blue caught your eye. A blue sticky note on the front page—one that you definitely didn’t own.

You pulled it out and read the message, which made your heart skip a beat: “I like you. But i you only see me as a friend.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d received a confession, but this note felt different. There was a mystery to it that intrigued you.

Confusion swirled in your mind as you tried to piece together who might have left this note. The message was neatly written in capital letters, offering no clues about the writer's identity.

Who could it be?

You had a lot of friends, but who might have done this?

You had male friends, all of whom felt like brothers to you. Could it be one of them? But they were like family.

The note was a sweet but outdated way to confess—charming in its own way but not something you’d expect from anyone in particular. You read it again and again, hoping to find a hint about who it might be from. But aside from the neat handwriting on a blue sticky note, you found nothing.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. You immediately sprang out of bed, remembering Seungmin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, peeking through the door.

“It’s okay,” he smiled reassuringly. “I know you were tired, so I decided to come up.”

“Oh, thanks,” you replied, quickly picking up some clothes that were strewn on the floor. You grabbed your assignment and saw the sticky note again, hastily hiding it by placing a book on top.

As you handed over your paper, you decided to test the waters, curious about who the note could be from. “Do you own any sticky notes?” you asked casually.

Seungmin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I was taking notes and thought I might need some,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You have plenty already,” he said, gesturing to the stack of colorful sticky notes on your study table. “And no, I don’t have any. I keep running out of them. I should buy more.”

He glanced at his watch and then looked back at you, his eyes full of concern. “I should go now. You should continue resting, and don’t forget to eat.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. President,” you said, a playful tone in your voice.

“No problem. Take care and always lock your doors. Bye, see you tomorrow.”

Before he left, Seungmin ruffled your hair affectionately.

As the door closed behind him, you found yourself staring at the sticky note again, your mind racing. If it was Seungmin who left the note, did he feel that way about you? His caring nature and playful attitude seemed to match the tone of the note, but could he really be the one?

Then again, what if it wasn’t him? You couldn’t jump to conclusions based solely on a sticky note.

You took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts aside. Until you had more evidence, you couldn’t be certain. You needed to consider all possibilities before drawing any conclusions.

Sticky notes and neat penmanship alone weren’t enough to figure out who left the note. Everyone in your class had decent handwriting, and blue sticky notes were too common to offer any real clue. They were practically identical—anyone could have bought them. It wasn't unique, not even close.

So who could it be?

"What are you thinking about?"

You were lost in thought when a voice pulled you back to reality. You looked up to see who it was.

"Uh, nothing," you replied, somewhat startled.

It was Changbin.

He was a friend of yours, though vastly different from Seungmin. If Seungmin was a green flag, then Changbin was the complete opposite—a walking red flag who had a reputation for playing with people’s hearts.

"Let me copy your physics assignment," he demanded more than asked, flashing you a grin that was both charming and mischievous.

Changbin had that bad-boy aura, and you sometimes wondered how you two even became friends. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t be the one who left that sticky note in your binder. When Changbin liked someone, he didn’t shy away from telling them directly. He would flirt openly, not leave anonymous notes.

So no, it wasn’t him.

"Why should I?" you replied nonchalantly. You were used to his antics, which might be one of the reasons why you were friends.

"Because I’m cute, and after class, I’ll buy you your favorite toothpaste-flavored ice cream," he teased.

"It’s not toothpaste! It’s mint chocolate!" you corrected, rolling your eyes.

"My bad," he smirked, unfazed. "Now, let me copy."

Too tired to argue further, you handed him your assignment. Changbin eagerly started copying, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

As you watched him scribble down your answers, you noticed his messy handwriting. There was no way it could have been him—the note’s handwriting was neat and careful, the opposite of his chaotic scrawl.

"You really have terrible handwriting. What are you, a kid? It looks like a storm blew through it," you teased, watching him.

"If I had more time, I could make it look like it was printed with a font," he shot back, not looking up. "But since the prof will be here in a few minutes, I don’t care what you say. Now, shush."

You let him finish copying, trying not to overthink the situation again, when suddenly he pulled out a blue sticky note from his bag.

"I almost forgot to give this to you," he said, handing it to you slowly. "It’s the address for the party this weekend. You should come. If I don’t see even a glimpse of you, I won’t enjoy it."

Surprised, you stared at the sticky note in his hand. It was the same color and size as the one you found in your binder. Why would he have this?

Seeing that you weren’t taking it, he grinned mischievously and stuck it to your forehead, laughing at your shocked expression.

Could it be him?

But…

You glanced at the two sticky notes in your hand, comparing them as you strolled through the expansive university yard.

Confessing like this wasn’t his style.

So it couldn’t be, right?

But the sticky notes were identical—the same length, the same height. Plain as they were, they were unmistakably the same.

Yet, you remembered how he would laugh if he knew someone confessed like this. He’d call it plain, boring, and probably mock the person as weak.

You shook off the thought, placing the sticky notes back in your binder and hugging it to your chest, forcing your mind to focus on your lessons.

"Hey, monkey!" You halted mid-step, rolling your eyes at the familiar voice and nickname.

"What?" you snapped, turning to face him.

"So you really accept now that you’re a monkey?" he teased, laughing. It was Minho.

Your friend (well, sort of?). In your group, you were like a cat and dog—he was the cat, and according to him, you were the dog because your face reminded him of one.

Despite the constant teasing, you appreciated how he looked out for you and was always there when you needed him.

But what did he just say?

"I'm not in the mood to fight with you," you muttered. On a normal day, you would have started bickering with him, refusing to back down until he surrendered (yes, like kids). "What are you, a chicken?"

"Oh, you noticed my hair. Do you like it?" he winked.

"You look like a rooster." His hair was dyed orange, and although he didn’t look like a rooster, you wanted to get back at him.

"That's better than being a monkey," he grinned.

"Crazy."

The two of you walked together, talking about random things with the usual bickering sprinkled in. Then, you remembered the sticky note. You knew it wasn’t from him because, well, why would it be?

Still, you decided to show it to him.

"Who do you think did this?" you asked, handing him the note.

He read it aloud, the words dripping with sarcasm, "That’s the cringiest thing I’ve ever read in my whole life."

Just as you expected.

"You shouldn’t say that! He must’ve gathered a lot of courage to do this."

"Why wouldn’t he just tell you in person? Is he weak?" Minho scoffed, lowering his voice when he saw you weren’t amused.

"Maybe he didn’t want to ruin our friendship."

"Then he shouldn’t have liked you in the first place."

"Can we control our feelings? It’s hard, you know!" You rolled your eyes. "Why am I even telling you this? You don’t understand anything," you mumbled, though loud enough for him to hear. "Anyway, I should go. I have something to do at the library."

"I like you."

You froze in your tracks at his words.

"That’s what he should do! It’s really easy, you know," he said, smirking before suddenly sprinting off in the opposite direction.

What was that?

Confused by Minho's words, you made your way to the library, replaying the conversation in your mind.

"What was that? Does he like me, or was he just using it as an example?"

You tried to shrug off the thought as you arrived at the library. The familiar scent of books enveloped you, a comforting distraction.

At the librarian's desk, you spotted Han, your friend who worked there as a student assistant.

"Oh, what brings you here?" he greeted you with a smile, lowering his voice in contrast to Minho’s usual volume.

"Hello. I’m returning this book." You handed him the physics book you had been hugging to your chest.

"Already? Are you sure you’re done with it? It’s okay if you missed the deadline. You know I can always talk to the senior librarian for you," Han offered, his tone warm and reassuring.

If you were to consider another suspect in your mystery investigation, Han would be a possibility. You’d never questioned how he took care of you before, but now, as you tried to solve this puzzle, you began to wonder.

Could he like you?

Or were you just overthinking things?

No, you shouldn’t read too much into Han’s actions. Like Seungmin, he was someone who genuinely cared for the people he loved.

"No, it’s okay. I’m done with it. Thank you, Han. And thanks for the offer—I might take you up on that one day and maybe never return the book," you joked, earning a laugh from him.

"Now I should go. I need to meet Hyunjin—he asked me for a favor."

"Sure! Take care!"

"Thanks. You too."

As you left the library, you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Turning around, you saw Han, slightly out of breath.

"Hey, was this yours? You forgot it," he said, handing you the sticky note.

You didn’t know how it ended up with him, but you quickly took it and placed it in your binder.

"Oh, thanks."

"No worries. That was a cute confession," he said, still catching his breath, then laughed. "I should get back—lots of work to do."

You nodded, watching as he returned to the library.

A question formed in your mind: Was it Han?

Why didn’t he ask who wrote it?

Why wasn’t he curious?

But then, he did ask if it was yours, as if he didn’t know.

So maybe… it wasn’t him.

"You literally owe me for this one," you whined, though you knew you didn’t have much of a choice as you glanced at your friend Hyunjin, a med student with an ever-present smile.

"Yes, I promise I'll buy you whatever you want," he said, clasping his hands together in gratitude, his eyes gleaming with a sincerity that made it hard to stay annoyed. You sighed, relenting, and extended your arm.

He needed a blood sample for one of his "you-don’t-know-the-details" assignments, and apparently, you were exactly what he needed.

Like a seasoned pro, he pricked the needle into your skin and attached a small hose to collect your blood. It wasn’t the first time you’d been his willing guinea pig, but you couldn’t say no to Hyunjin.

"Thank you," he said earnestly after he was done.

"Right. You should be thankful," you retorted with a mock glare, though you couldn’t help but smile when he laughed.

Hyunjin had the most stereotypical 'doctor-y' penmanship you’d ever seen—impossible to decipher, even as you watched him scribble something in his records.

"By the way, I left a note before in your binder," he said casually.

His words rang in your ears. "What note?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying the suspense. "A note about how you should remember to take the vitamins I gave you."

Oh.

Seeing you internalize his words, he added, "And I noticed another note in there." He adjusted his white coat, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "And I know who put it there."

You looked up at him, curiosity written all over your face as he towered over you.

"And you should find that out on your own," he teased, winking before walking away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

"Why’d you call me here?" Jeongin asked as he walked into the coffee shop, a guitar slung over his back.

"Because I promised to buy you coffee," you replied with a smile.

Jeongin was a year younger than you, a music major who could play practically any instrument, though piano was his favorite.

"Really? But I’m not craving coffee right now. You should buy me a meal. I’m hungry," he said, not even trying to be cute but somehow managing to be utterly adorable.

As per his request, the two of you headed to a nearby restaurant. You let him order whatever he wanted and watched as he dug into his food.

"You must’ve been really hungry," you remarked.

"I didn’t have lunch or dinner yet," he admitted between bites.

"You shouldn’t skip meals like that! Our bodies are our main investment. We need to take care of them," you scolded, playing the role of the older sibling.

"I know, Mom," he teased.

"Good son," you laughed.

"Are you going to Changbin’s party?" he asked after stuffing more food into his mouth. You took a sip of your strawberry latte, considering your answer.

"I don’t know. I’m kinda busy."

He got back to eating, and you hesitated, feeling a question bubbling up inside you. It felt awkward, but you knew you wouldn’t be at peace until you asked.

"Uh, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"You're already doing it," he said, his mouth still half-full.

"Let me finish!," you squinted at him. "This question is kinda weird, but…"

"Faster! I’m curious!" He leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Uh, do you know if anyone who’s close to us… erm…" You coughed, trying to find the right words. "…likes me? I mean, like, likes me?"

Jeongin looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "I don’t know who, but I know everyone loves you."

Well, that much was true—friendship came naturally with your group.

"And me too. I love you," he added casually.

"Aw, thank you. I love you too."

He didn’t reply, just smiled at you for a moment before turning back to his meal, leaving you with a warm feeling that was hard to shake.

"I'm so tired of that neighbor of mine!" Felix, a friend who lived three floors above you, burst into your apartment wearing pajamas and hugging his pillow.

"You can’t sleep again?" you asked, watching as he plopped down onto your sofa bed with a dramatic sigh.

"I don’t know what the hell he’s doing in the middle of the night! Was he doing construction or something?" he whined, making himself comfortable. "Oh, this is so comfortable. Let me crash here."

It wasn’t the first time he’d crashed at your place, so you were used to it. You didn’t mind at all.

"Did I bother you?" he asked, his head still buried in the pillow.

"Never."

"I should really move to this floor. It’s so peaceful."

"You could always move into my apartment and be my roommate," you suggested, a plan you’d considered before.

"No way. Someone might get angry."

"Who would that be?"

Felix didn’t answer, his silence leaving the question hanging in the air. You thought he might be teasing, but his continued silence suggested otherwise.

"And I don’t think I could handle living with you," he added.

"Why’s that?"

Once again, he didn’t respond.

"You should get some sleep. It’s past midnight," you said, heading toward your room.

As you were about to close the door, Felix called out, "I know about the blue sticky note in your binder."

You stopped in your tracks.

"Keep it, okay?" he said with a knowing smile before burying himself back into the pillow.

You wanted to ask more, but Felix seemed to be done with the conversation. With a curious mind, you went to bed, pondering over his cryptic words.

“Chan, did you really make this?” you asked, your voice brimming with excitement as you listened intently.

He nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face as he observed your reaction.

“This is the best music I’ve ever heard!” you exclaimed, pressing the earphones deeper into your ears.

“Oh, of course you’d say that because I’m your friend,” Chan said with a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious!” you replied, though you could only read his lips. The music’s high volume made it difficult to hear clearly. “This is amazing!”

“Yeah, that’s Han in the background and Changbin rapping.”

You bobbed your head along with the beats, completely immersed in the music Chan had created.

“Was Jeongin in it?” you asked, recognizing a familiar voice.

“Yes, and Hyunjin, Felix, Minho, and Seungmi—”

“This part is definitely Seungmin!” you shouted, and Chan laughed at your enthusiasm.

You continued listening, enjoying every note until the very last one, which was a soft piano melody.

“Wow, that was beautiful! I still can’t believe my friend created this. It’s a masterpiece.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s a great compliment from the person the song was inspired by,” Chan said with a knowing smile.

You didn’t catch that last part, too absorbed in the music to fully register his words.

“What’s the title of the song?” you asked, still in awe.

“Blue Sticky Note.”

The title made you stop dead in your tracks. Chan’s gaze lingered on you with an unreadable expression, as if he knew something you didn’t.

The realization hit you—the lyrics, the melody, everything about the song—

We’ve been friends for so long, shared laughter and tears,

But there’s something more inside, I’ve held back for years.

So I turned our feelings into a song, hoping you’d see,

How much you mean to me, how much you mean to me.

Oh, blue sticky note, you’re my secret, my confession,

Wrapped in notes and beats, my heart’s true expression.

In every verse, in every line, it’s you I adore,

From a simple blue sticky note to a melody I’m pouring out.

it was all connected to the note you had hidden in your binder.

part 2 here!

[bobafetts-princess]

Stranger and the Bear Pt1

Summary: A handsome stranger has been warming a stool at the bar you work at. What happens when ghosts from the past make an appearance?

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: drinking, a touch of Logan smoking the cigar, abusive relationship mentioned (no abuse shown), I think that’s all for this chapter

A/N: if you saw this on ao3, I’m the same person! I’m deep in a Logan crisis and have been thinking about moving my Logan fics over to tumblr so his resurgence has given me the boost I need!

Part 2 can be found here

“Hey stranger!” You shout to your newest bar customer, tossing a coaster in front of him before turning around and grabbing his usual.

“Hey Bear,” he responds, his deep voice silky and rough at the same time.

“I can’t believe you still call me that,” You laugh, “it’s been like, three months.”

“You mentioned it first, so I ran with it.” He smiles and winks playfully at you, the most lighthearted you’ve ever seen him. The tall and handsome stranger had first come into the bar you work at a few months ago, ordering a whiskey neat and a beer.

You’d given him your name in the hopes that he would give you his in return, but no luck. “My childhood classmates called me care bear though, they claimed I was as sweet and cuddly as a care bear,” you tell him, smiling at the old memory.

“Care bear, huh?” The stranger had said, deep voice rumbling through his chest. “How about just Bear?”

“Ooh! I like that,” you say before asking him what he would like to drink.

The two of you had fell into an easy camaraderie, always some light flirting, at least from your end. You’d never asked his name and he’d never offered. Your stranger was a good looking man, neatly trimmed facial hair and sideburns, usually in a leather jacket and form-fitting jeans. He was the definition of ‘hate to see them leave, love to watch them walk away’ and you looked forward to the one or two days a week he would come in. He was always respectful, drank the same thing, and left a decent tip.

The evening passed in a blur, patrons coming and going but your stranger stayed where he was. You refilled his drinks at the exact moment he was finishing the last, that was your routine. You’d refill his drinks and he would hang out for a few hours. He watched you work, sometimes from behind dark sunglasses, sometimes through hazel green eyes.

“Hey Bear, c’mere.” Your stranger asked, cigar hanging from his mouth. You made your way towards him, thinking about how no matter how much he drank, he seemed perfectly sober. “You from ‘round here?” He asked, no sunglasses today. You could see his pupils were blown and for the first time in two months you wondered whether he was actually buzzed. He smelled like good worn leather and the cigar he was smoking. You had to prevent yourself from closing your eyes when you inhaled his scent.

“Uhh, sorta kinda. Why?” You told him, shocked at the personal question, and also embarrassed.

The truth was that you weren’t from here, you’d moved here to be with an ex-boyfriend and it had ended badly. You’d gotten home from work one night to find the locks had been changed on the apartment as well as his phone number. Come to find out, he’d been sleeping around on you since you started dating and decided he liked his side piece more. So you’d called your boss, Sally, begging for somewhere to stay and she rented you the studio apartment upstairs. You struck up a deal, the apartment for half price as long as you closed the bar down every night.

When your ex’s side-piece decided she didn’t like him as much as she'd originally thought, he’d begun stalking you and things had gone downhill. He tried to get physical with you once but Sally had threatened him with a shotgun and he hadn’t shown his face again. That was ABOUT the same time your stranger had started coming to the bar, and for some reason you felt safer when he was there.

Apparently Sally did too because on nights he showed up, she took off early and let you close down by yourself.

“So I presume you know that guy in the corner over there? He’s been watching you most of the night.” He told you, clamping the cigar between his index and middle finger. You began to turn your body in the direction of the person he was talking about but a warm hand a-top yours stopped you. “Don’t make it obvious, Bear. Don’t want him to know.” His eyes raked down your body as he was speaking, drinking you in. You weren’t wearing anything fancy, fitted jeans and a black cropped tank with the bars logo on it, but the way he was looking at you made goosebumps cover your skin.

Forcing your mind back to the issue at hand, you glance in the corner, keeping your body facing your stranger. When you caught sight of the face in the corner, you paled. It was your ex, and Sally was gone, her shotgun locked in her office.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Your stranger asked, noting your expression, his hand rubbing back and forth across your knuckles. If you hadn’t been worried, you would have blushed at the way his hand held yours and the nickname he called you.

You forced your voice to sound normal when you spoke again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just ghosts from the past.” You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes and were surprised to look up and find your strangers face held concern and a touch of tenderness.

“I’m gonna stick around late tonight, Bear. So keep ‘em comin’.” He told you and you felt a bit safer.

You worked the night away, one eye on your next drink ticket and one eye in the corner where your ex sat, unmoving. Your stranger did the same, only he kept one eye on you and one eye on your ex. At ten till close your voice rang out into the emptying bar, “last call!” The few that were still hanging out left not too long after, leaving you, your stranger, and your ex in the bar. You chose not to acknowledge that you knew it was him, hoping that the dark shadows of the bar would convince him that you didn’t notice who he was. After a few tense moments he stood, heading towards the front door so you turned to your stranger.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, Bear.” He said, the sultry tones of his voice soothing you. You took a glance at his retreating back before turning around and starting your wipe down of the back bar. A rough hand grabbed your wrist, pulling and making your body spin. It happened so fast that you didn’t get a good look at the face until it was the only thing in your line of sight. It was your ex, which shouldn’t surprise you but somehow it did. Your voice caught in your throat and you couldn’t attempt to shout for help from your stranger, your fear paralyzing you.

“I thought your miserable ass left this fucking town.” He snarled in one ear, face pressed against yours.

“You would think that when I left you, you’d have tucked that tail and ran back to mommy and daddy. Why are you still fucking here??” He sneered and you could smell the alcohol on his breath and when he pulled back, your wrist in his hand, you could see that his pupils were blown wide. He was high too, but you didn’t know what on. You didn't know why he was so obsessed with you, it wasn't like you had a great and powerful love. You thought his feelings were just hurt because you didn't take him back. “You stupid. Fucking. Bit-“ But he didn’t get a chance to finish because his body was ripped away from yours. You blinked and saw your stranger standing over him as he lay on the floor where he’d been thrown.

“Attacking a woman while she’s alone?” He snarled, that deep vibrato now a growl. He picked your ex up by the front of his shirt, his strength shocking you. “You piece of shit. Picking on a woman half your size while she’s alone?” He growled, shaking your ex while he was holding him up in the air. “What kind of an asshole gets off on that?” Your legs were shaking so bad that you sunk to the floor, the butt of your jeans wet from the beer and liquor that had been spilled during the course of the evening.

Your ex looked terrified, used to always being the bigger in a fight but he looked like a teenager next to your stranger. His mouth was moving wordlessly, almost like he was trying to make sounds but was too frightened.

“I’m not gonna hurt you tonight, but I swear to god if you come back, I’ll rip you limb from limb. And I’ll be here every night to make sure she stays safe. Get outta here before I change my mind, you piece of shit.” He snarls, dropping your ex unceremoniously on the floor in a heap of fear and embarrassment. He scrambles to his feet, sprinting towards the front door, letting it slam behind him. You see your stranger following behind him to lock the door before your vision starts to swirl with the beginnings of a panic attack.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.” You repeat over and over to yourself when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder and a low gravelly voice speaking in your ear.

“Bear. Bear. Are you alright?” You continue your breathing, adding a small nod to ensure your stranger you were fine.

“I’m gonna pick you up. You live upstairs right?” He asked and in the back of your mind you wondered how he knew that. But thoughts left your mind as strong arms wrapped underneath your legs and behind your back. Your heart rate was slowing, and your panic attack subsiding, so when he asked you which way the stairs were you were able to answer. His strong body carried yours up the stairs and into the studio apartment you resided in, slowing as he crossed the threshold.

“I’m okay to stand. You can put me down.” You told him, but he seemed hesitant and you swore he clutched you even tighter to his body. “Really, Stranger, I’m okay.” You said, smiling up at his kindness.

“Logan.” He whispered as he lowered your legs onto the ground, arm staying around the small of your back until he was sure you were okay on your own two feet.

“What?” You asked, not sure of what he said.

“Logan. My names Logan.” He repeated, fingers digging into the exposed flesh of your hip, biting slightly.

“Okay, Logan. It’s nice to not refer to you as Stranger in my mind.” You giggled. You stepped reluctantly away from his embrace, heading towards your ‘kitchen’. “Would you like a drink, Logan? All I have is beer and water.”

You heard him clear his throat and when you looked at him, he looked like he was warring with himself.

“Uhh, ya, sure Kid. Bear. I’ll have a beer.” He said and for the first time since you’d met him, there was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice. You popped the top on two, handing him one before heading to the small couch you had, a mere 10 feet from your bed. He followed, sitting next to you and doing his best to make sure he wasn’t touching you, but the area was so small that your knees touched anyways.

“So that was my ex. He was stupid enough to try and get physical with me once. Sally threatened him with a shotgun. I didn’t think he would be stupid enough to try it twice.” You tried to explain without going into the entire sordid story.

“I’m going to tear him in half.” He answered, taking a long pull of his beer and you felt ashamed at what the dominance in his voice did to your lady bits.

“I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough to try this again so hopefully I don’t ever have to worry about him again.” You assured your stranger.

“Logan.” You mused aloud, a small smile crossing your face.

“Ya, Bear?” He answered, thinking you were going to ask him a question.

“It’s such a normal name.” You snickered.

“What’s wrong with my name?” He asked, faux defensiveness in his voice at your teasing.

“I’ve wondered for WEEKS what your name was and it’s Logan. It’s so normal. It suits you though. I like it.” You smiled at him, hitching one knee up on the couch and turning your torso towards him.

“I’ll be comin’ by more often and stayin’ until the bar is locked down. Just to make sure that moron doesn’t come back.” He told you, venom in his tone, but in a way that had you suppressing a shiver. You wondered what he sounded like first thing in the morning, his voice filled with sleep. “What’re you thinkin’’ about, Bear?” He asked, almost knowing your thoughts. You flushed, embarrassed to be caught in your thoughts.

“Nothing, just how you manhandled him. I think you humbled him.” You lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t realize you were thinking about HIM manhandling you.

“He’s a lightweight. Pushin’ people around that are smaller than him.” He told you, eyes skimming over you. You heated at his gaze and wondered to yourself how long it had been since you’d gotten laid. When you couldn’t remember immediately you’d decided it had been too long. “People like him always need to be manhandled, otherwise they don’t learn their lessons,” You glanced at his beer, bartender habit, and stood to get him another. Yours was still half full, so you only popped the top off of one and brought it back to him. You felt his eyes glued to your frame as you walked and tried not to let it go to your head.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He told you, even though he took the beer from your hands when you stretched it out to him.

“Thank you Logan. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. How did you know I lived upstairs though?” You asked, the memory hitting you quick.

“I’ve heard you speak to the woman about rent. Sally? And I’ve stayed after a few times when I come by to make sure you get to your car, and you never come out of the building. The lights go out though.” He told you, unashamedly. You were struck by the kindness of this stranger. He was looking out for you and you hadn't even known. He watched out for you and all you'd ever offered him was a warm smile and a cold beer. Your breath hitched in your throat as you muttered out a small thank you to him, but he simply shrugged and took a long pull.

"I don't know how to thank you." You admitted to him but he waved you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid." He said, finishing his beer. You decided it was better off to just thank him in a different way, probably with free booze. You decided in that moment that this man would never pay for another drink in the bar again, and you felt that Sally would agree. You would speak with her about it first thing in the morning, after you filed a restraining order.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Dedicated To New Lovers

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~5.5k

TW: Murder, Angst, Character Death, guns, violence, blood, swearing, depression, mentions of disordered eating, mentions of insomnia, self-deprecating thoughts, loneliness, heartbreak, Mentions of Emily's death, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure

A/N: This is based on s8 ep12, Zugzwang. It deviates slightly but still makes Spencer sob so it could basically be canon. Obviously, or maybe not to some people, this fic is based off of Night Shift by Lucy Dacus. It's been my obsession for the past couple weeks and I simply just had to write something for it. Now my one issue is, besides me ignoring editing it, is that I hate when things don't end happily, but I'm breaking out of the mold of everything ending with a nice neat little bow, so please enjoy! (well as much as you can for such a depressing fic lmao).

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life alone ---We find it with another." ~Thomas Merton.

“Thank you for such a wonderful night.” You murmured, pulling away from the kiss, hands on their chest. “I really enjoyed it Spe—”, you coughed and blinked a couple of times, catching yourself. “Especially,” You clutched your chest, smiling up at them, “Sorry I don’t know where that just came from.” 

The lips you had just kissed had shifted into a concerned smile, but was none the wiser. 

“Especially dessert. I loved the pie place, you were so right! The apple was just perfectly seasoned, and the crust was still crumbly.” You leaned up and kissed their cheek again. 

“I’ll see you again, yeah?” You whispered, before turning around and heading into your apartment building, not waiting for a response, smile falling the second you weren’t looking at them. You buzzed yourself in and quickly walked up the four flights of stairs towards your door.

You fucking hated pie. Well that wasn’t true, but you didn’t really want to spend your evening going and getting pie with someone you really weren’t that into. 

You couldn’t help but wonder why everything was wrong. They were kind, and sweet, and cared so much for you, but it just wasn’t the same. Your heart was just not in the place, and not a single butterfly fluttered around in your stomach, you couldn’t figure out what was wrong with you.

Well that was a lie too. You knew exactly what was wrong. 

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” You mumbled, getting your keys out and unlocking your front door, grabbing the mail off of the mat, and closing the door behind you. 

The boxes stacked precariously around your place just left you feeling more and more destitute on this island of loneliness. God you were so fucking dramatic. You dumped the roses they had given you, and your purse onto the kitchen counter, and went straight for the fridge, grabbing the bottle of Prosecco. The cork popped, and you took a swig straight from the bottle. 

Your phone rang, and you pulled it out of your pocket, sighing and answering it. 

“Hey Em.” 

“Wow, was it that bad of a date?” Emily laughed a little. She had been concerned about you, the whole team had been concerned about you. Her death had hit you and Spencer the hardest. You had become fast friends with Emily, regardless of the fact that when she joined, you were the youngest, and newest on the team as well. The two of you had become fast friends, and even faster sisters. She was your everything. She was there for your father’s death, the start of your relationship with Spencer, the harder cases, the bitching, the girls nights, the everything. But you had run into the warehouse, and saw Derek cradling her hand, screaming for a medic, and you just lost it. Your brain went into overdrive, rendering you useless. When JJ walked into the waiting room and told all of you the news, you sat there, shocked. Spencer had tried to go see her, but you had just excused yourself and walked out to the parking lot. It was devastating. You were allowed back from leave a week later than everyone else because Hotch knew you needed more time. So when she walked back into the round room, alive and well, your barely pieced together mind completely shattered all over again. 

You watched for seven months as Spencer let you grieve alone while running off to JJ’s house for comfort. You had sat alone in your shared apartment becoming more and more of a shell of a person, not really eating, sleeping, or even drinking water; you were barely existing. Five years of a relationship washed away because that first night, instead of comforting each other, Spencer had abandoned you at the hospital, forgetting to even drive you home. Then, when his headaches got, he pulled even further away, only hearing snippets of how he was doing from those on the team who didn’t even live with him. 

The team could only watch as you slowly became a ghost of yourself, while Spencer couldn’t even give a shit to notice. 

The first time he mentioned Maeve to you, it was like a stake in your chest. You had caught him talking to her when you had come back early from the therapy Hotch had almost threatened you at gunpoint to go to. He quickly hung up the phone and mentioned that she was his doctor, helping him with his headaches. But you knew better. You had heard him laughing before you walked into the apartment. You hadn’t heard him laugh since before Emily had “died”. 

Then, one night, he told you it was over.  I don’t love you anymore. 

You just sat there, chest caving in on yourself. 

Since this was my place first, uh…I can give you a couple of weeks to find a place, and I’ll even sleep on the couch…

His words bounced around in your head before Emily said your name. “You disappeared on me.” 

“Shit-uh, shit. Sorry Em.” You shook your head, and pinched your brow. “They were really lovely Em, just the best. But I’m just not ready.” 

Emily sighed, “I know it’s only been four months but I’m proud of you, I really am. For even going out in the first place. Want me to come over, bring a new bottle of prosecco.” 

You laughed, but it had no substance. “How’d you know I was almost out of Prosecco.” 

Emily sighed. “I know you’re a grown woman who can handle living alone, but Sergio and I wouldn’t have minded if you stayed with us for a couple more weeks.”  

“And I know that, and I love you so much for it, but the only way I’m ever going to be able to…” the words got stuck in your throat. “I, um. I had to.” 

Emily sighed, but understood. “Okay, well, if you need anything, I’m a phone call away, or a block away, whichever is faster for you.” 

“Thanks Emily. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that you hung up the phone, not wanting to prolong the conversation any more than it had. 

“Fucking Maeve.” You grumbled to the living room before taking another swig from the bottle. You barely slept these days. Your date this past night? The first time you had eaten a full meal in over two weeks. Your skin was a little more gaunt, and the concealer you were using was working overtime to hide the bags under your eyes. You were once someone filled with so much joy, and so much love to give. Everyone knew you were a touchy person, always giving hugs, touching people’s arms, squeezing their hands; if someone tried to touch you now, your whole body would tense up, your stomach would flip. Eventually, after finishing off the bottle, you fell into a restless sleep on the couch of your apartment, since you didn’t want to sleep alone in your own mattress, dreaming about the fact that someone else was probably in the one you bought with Spencer all those years ago when he asked you to live with him.  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

The office went silent as you walked into work the next morning. You were always one to arrive early, make your coffee, visit Penelope in the Bat Cave, stop by Hotch and Rossi’s offices and wish them a good morning. But these days you walked through those glass doors exactly at 9 am, unless you were called in. 

It was masochistic to still work at the BAU, but it was one dream you weren’t going to let Spencer take away from you. But as you walked into the bullpen, and all heads turned towards you with such pitiful looks, you doubted whether you belonged here anymore. 

Before you could place your bag down, Aaron walked over to you and quietly asked if you would come into his office. You obliged, a sinking feeling in your gut, as you followed Hotch, while the eyes of everyone else followed you. 

As Hotch opened the door, you froze. Spencer was sitting on the couch, trying to wipe away the tears in his eyes. He clearly also hadn’t been sleeping, but you knew those tears weren’t for you. You stayed in the doorway until Hotch gestured to one of the chairs along the side of his office. You moved away from the door, but stayed standing, refusing to sit down. Hotch closed the door, trapping you in his office with someone you hadn’t spoken more than necessary to in over four months.

“Do you want to tell me why I'm here.” You asked calmly, trying to ignore the desperate man on the couch, who was just staring down at his feet. 

“I am going to ask you to sit out this case.” Hotch looked at you, not sitting down either, ready to calm down whatever fight you’re about to put up. 

Your eyes narrowed at your section chief and you scoffed. “You better have a seriously good explanation Hotch because as I’ve told you many times before, I’m doing fine. I don’t know what has been said, but I’m perfectly capable at—”

“I asked him if you could sit out.” Spencer’s voice was hoarse, but solid as he looked at you. 

You closed your eyes and flexed one of your hands, resisting the urge to punch him in the teeth.

“Since when do you know what’s best for me, Doctor Reid.” It took all of your control to stay civil and not curse him out in front of your boss. 

“That’s not it.” Spencer licked his lips but he quickly averted his gaze. “T-The case. It’s um. It’s about Maeve and I–” 

Your heart dropped. Bile started to rise in your throat. “oh.” You had never felt so small in your life. Tears were forming in your eyes. “I’ll be right…I—” 

You barely even finished the thought before you opened the door, and quickly walked out of Hotch’s office. No one even tried to pretend that they weren’t watching Hotch’s office. Emily and Derek shot up off of their desks and immediately went to follow you as you sped down the stairs and through the bullpen. Hotch just looked down at his feet while Reid just rubbed his hands over his eyes. 

You shoved through the doors, accidentally bumping into Penelope on the way out, causing her to drop the files and coffee mug in her hand. It shattered on the ground, but you couldn’t stop to apologize. You needed to be in the bathroom before you became the agent who threw up all over the halls because of some stupid broken heart. 

Emily had quickly helped Penelope pick things up, the two exchanging hushed whispers and looks. Derek had apologized to Penelope while he ran past, catching up to you with every stride. You shoved open the door to one of the woman’s rooms, Derek right behind you. 

Luckily for you, it was empty, so you could continue running to the biggest stall, before dropping to your knees and throwing up. It burned your throat and your eyes, stinging every inch of skin as it rose up your throat and into the toilet in front of you. 

Derek had pulled back your hair, and was now sitting down next to you as you dry heaved into the toilet. You only threw up actual substance one more time, but it was just that stupid fucking apple pie and the Prosecco from the night before. There was nothing else in your stomach to throw up, so your body settled for making you gag continuously. 

“Fuck.” You cried into the toilet, letting yourself fully devolve into the mess you were destined to become this morning. 

Derek just rubbed your back, “It’s okay pretty girl, let it all out.” 

“Derek Morgan I think I am the ugliest son of a bitch right now.” You mumbled, reaching up and flushing the contents down the drain, tears still racing down your face. “I can’t fucking—” You tried to breathe in but your body was shutting down. That’s all it seemed to do these days. It felt like the only way to protect yourself anymore. “He–”

“I know.” He whispered softly, offering you some toilet paper to let you wipe off your face, as you leaned back, away from the toilet. 

That’s when the first sob wracked your body. Maybe you weren’t meant to be on this team anymore. Spencer had been here longer. You were only an asset to the team because of your positive attitude which left your body the second Emily Prentiss was pronounced dead in that waiting room. You were the definition of useless. I mean, Derek and Emily were partners, Hotch and Rossi had everything down pat, and Spencer, even when you were dating, was truly partnered with JJ most of the time. You were the odd man out, and you were fucking useless. 

Derek had pulled you into his chest, hugging you as the sobs continued. His heart was breaking for you. No one on the team really knew what had happened that night, all they knew was that you didn’t come in one day, and then when you did the next, you looked like shit. All while Spencer seemed fine. Then, when your desk was moved to the opposite side of the bullpen, it confirmed any and all guesses the profilers had been making. You were never paired with him on cases anymore, and if you were, there was always a third person. You barely looked at one another. Spencer’s scarf had reappeared on his desk one morning, and suddenly you were no longer staying in the same hotel rooms. Derek just kissed your head as you let your body give up. 

He wasn’t stupid. Like everyone else, he had noticed the way you had been losing weight. He had noticed the amount of makeup you had started to wear. He even realized that he hadn’t seen you eat any meals with them in the past couple months while they were out on cases. But what he hadn’t fully realized was the fact that you were dead, inside and out. There was nothing left of you but the barely alive body he was holding. 

Spencer had really gotten a good look at you for the first time in a very long time. He had already felt guilty about the fact that he had Maeve, and that you had broken up he had broken your heart. But what he had failed to realize was the same thing Derek had–You were someone entirely different, a ghost of yourself. The guilt was gnawing through his stomach when he told Hotch what was going on, and he had begged Hotch to let you sit out, trying to save you from this, but clearly Spencer couldn’t do anything right for you anymore, he hadn’t been able to in a very long time. Hotch had cleared his throat while Spencer shook his head. “I-I tried Hotch, I really didn’t want…”

He just nodded at Spencer. “I know Reid, but you must have known there was no way this conversation was going to go any better than that.” 

Reid just nodded, and stood up, going out into the bullpen, not missing the way all of their eyes snapped to him, as Penelope dumped her broken mug into the trash. 

Before anyone could say anything, Hotch walked out of his office and looked at everyone. “As you all could have guessed, Agent Y/L/N will not be joining us on this case. I expect everyone in the conference room in ten.” and with that, Hotch walked past Reid, and down the stairs, out towards where he had assumed you had run off too. 

Spencer just stood on the stairs, watching Hotch walk to you, wishing it could be him to hold you in his arms.

Hotch opened the door to the women’s bathroom, and saw Derek cradling you. As you heard the door open, your body had tensed up and all of your tears had stopped. Derek and Hotch shared a look before Hotch kneeled down. 

“Sorry Aaron.” You mumbled, trying to wipe away the remaining tears on your face. 

“Don't apologize. Take the next couple of days off. Penelope might call and ask you a question or two, if she manages to forgive you for breaking her third favorite coffee mug…” 

You laughed slightly at his joke, trying not to let it cause you to cry even more, wiping away more tears. 

“But I expect you don’t need me to tell you this is an order.” 

You nodded at Hotch while you stood up, Derek quickly following suit. “We’re meeting in ten.” He nodded at Derek, who took the hint. He squeezed your arm, and kissed your head, whispering to call him if you needed anything, before leaving just you and Hotch alone in the bathroom. He held up your purse and gave you a sympathetic smile. 

“I am only a phone call away Y/n. If anything happens, I want to be the first to know.” He nodded at you, only for you to pull him into a hug. Hotch smiled slightly, because you hadn’t really hugged anyone for a while, so he quickly reciprocated before pulling away. “Hotch, can I ask you one more favor?” 

“Anything,” He said softly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once he had left, You grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and tried to wipe as much of the mascara track marks off. You eventually just wiped off your whole face of makeup. You stared at yourself, realizing just how fucked you were. Eventually, you had made your way out of the bathroom, and past the bullpen. Everyone was piling into the conference room, but Spencer had stopped to watch you enter the elevator, really looking at you. You made eye contact right as the doors started to close. Spencer’s gut twisted at the forlorn look on your face. But before he could do anything, the doors were closed, you were gone, and his name was called by Hotch. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

According to the updates from Emily and Derek, the case was not going well. You knew very little about it, and you wanted to keep it this way, but you knew this case wasn’t going to end well. You could just tell. 

You had been existing in your own apartment, making frequent trips to Emily’s to keep your favorite cat company. You would go on long walks as the sun set, nowhere truly in mind, just wandering around trying to think about anything else. You would listen to your music, trying to take your mind off of the man who you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since you first joined the team. It could have been yesterday based on how well you remembered it. 

But instead of wallowing, you tried to at least wallow in public, resolving to minimize the sheer amount of pity parties you had been throwing yourself.

Three days later, you had been walking around aimlessly, just trying to hit your new goal of 10,000 steps a day to start being active again, when your phone rang. You had answered it without a thought in the world since usually it was Derek, Hotch, and Emily on the other end. 

But this time, it was none of them. 

“Hello?” Spencer’s entire body froze once he heard your voice, once he knew that Diane knew who you were. 

“I just want her to see one more thing.” 

“Hello?” You asked again, just about to hang up, thinking it was some sort of prank call when a woman spoke to you. 

“Is this Doctor Y/N Y/L/N?” Maeve looked over at Spencer, confusion and horror in her eyes, while Spencer just stared at the phone, willing for you to hang up. 

“Um, yes? May I ask who this is…” 

“My name is Diane.” 

“Um, okay, Diane. Can I ask why you’re calling me.” You had just walked into your apartment, Spencer could hear the unfamiliar creek of the door as it slammed shut. 

“What do you know about Doctor Maeve Donovan.” 

Your whole body froze. “What?” barely even whispering out your response. 

“What do you know about Maeve.” Her temper exploded, and you just sat there trying to breathe. 

“Wh-what do you want to know about her?” You had taken several courses in negotiation, taught by David Rossi himself, so your training started to kick in, but your panic was fighting strongly against it. You just couldn't bring yourself to say her name.

The team was outside of the building, when Garcia had called and tapped them into the phone call Diane was making. When they heard your voice, all of them froze. This was not what she was supposed to do. How the hell did she even know about you? 

“I want you to tell me about how she ruined your life.”

Spencer tried to speak but Diane pointed the gun at Maeve, making him go silent. Maeve had started silently crying, unable to believe this is what her life had become. 

“I–, You want me to tell you about some woman I have never met?”

“Yes yes yes. Why won’t any of you fucking listen.” You recieved a text on your watch, from Hotch, briefing you on the fact that Diane had both Spencer and Maeve hostage in the warehouse she was calling from.

You took a shaky inhale before biting your lips. “I want to know that they’re both okay Diane. I need to hear both Spencer and M..Maeve speak.” God this was so fucking hard, it hurt so fucking badly.

Diane rolled her eyes before nodding at Maeve. “H-hi.” She whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t—” she was cut off but the barrel of the gun pushed against her head. 

All you could do was clutch your fist while she spoke, because you realized you couldn’t be angry at her for falling in love with Spencer, because you had too. 

“And Spencer?” Your voice cracked out, desperate to hear his voice. 

“Go on Spencer. Tell her you’ve been okay without her.” 

Spencer winced and spoke up, dying for you to just hang up the phone. “I’m here Y/N.” 

The way he said your name made you want to curl up into a ball and die, but it wasn’t good enough for Diane. 

“Not good enough Spencer. Tell her how you ruined her life. She deserves to hear it from you since you broke her just like you broke me for loving the ONE WOMAN I DESERVED TO BE LOVED BY.” 

Spencer heard the sharp intake of your breath. He could hear you trying not to cry. After everything, he never wanted to hurt you, but clearly he had fucked himself over and over with every single decision he made. He knew you knew he was playing along with her fantasy, but he knew that you hearing these words would ruin your life more than any gunshot would. 

“Tell me Spencer.” You breathed out, knowing if he continued to play along, maybe he could make it out of this alive, regardless of everything that had gone on between the two of you. 

“Please.” Spencer turned to Diane. “She has nothing to do with this, let her hang up the ph–”

“If she hangs up, I shoot Maeve and let you watch as she dies.” 

And there it was. There was a small, awful part of you that wanted to hang up the phone right then and there. Let him suffer and feel the pain you had been feeling for months and months. Your silence was enough to let Spencer know you were struggling, which hurt him even more because that same small part of him knew he deserved it, forgiveness for you and all. 

The team listened to the silence, some of them waiting for the dial tone, others grieving the shit you put yourself through just for someone who didn't love you anymore.

“Would you rather I tell you how he ruined my life, just like he did yours?” You breathed out, finally saying something. The entire SWAT team, along with your team was listening in, everyone was waiting with bated breath to hear--everyone wanted to know.

Prentiss looked over at Hotch. “Hotch we can’t let her do this. It…”

But Hotch just shook his head. “If we hang up the phone, Maeve dies, and if nobody complies with Diana, both Spencer and Maeve die.”

Rossi spoke up. “You have to trust her, she’s negotiating. She’s buying us time. Whether or not we should be listening to this is the real question.” 

All of them went silent after that, a decision had been made. 

Diane’s face twisted into a smile. “I’d love too.” 

You closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath. “D-Do you know what it’s like, Diane, to walk into work every morning and have every single person who promises you they care about you over and over and over again just stare at you like you're some sort of wounded puppy? Watching as they handle you like a glass figurine that they all feel responsible for breaking, and yet the one person who threw you against the wall doesn’t even notice.” 

Diane huffed, but she nodded. ”Keep going.”

“Do you know how long we were together?” 

Spencer couldn’t decide who the question was for. 

“Tell me Spencer. Tell me how many days of her life you threw away just to love someone who you’ve never met before..”

He couldn’t look at Maeve. He couldn’t look at Diane. Your heart had given out right then and there, they had never even met in person. He had fallen in love with a woman he'd never seen before.

“Tell her Spencer.” You voice came out harsher than intended, your resolve was gone, but it made Diane smile even more, becoming comfortable with the taste of venom in your mouth. 

His voice wavered. “Five years, two months, nine days, and three hours.” 

You let out something resembling a controlled sob, which had Diane’s smile growing by the second. Maeve just stared at him, and Spencer couldn’t tell if she was horrified or upset or just sad. 

“You threw away over five years worth of love, to ruin my relationship?” 

“Diane.” You said suddenly, trying to get her attention back off of the two people she was holding hostage. 

“What.” She was starting to become irritated, ancy, waving the gun around more. 

“Want to know the worst part about it.” 

“If you tell it to me quickly because I’m running out of patience Y/N.”

“He’s making me transfer departments.” 

Your big secret was out. 

“What.” Spencer breathed out, the shock spread across his face. He couldn’t imagine the bullpen without you, and when he wasn't on the phone with Maeve, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. The days where you weren’t near him went by torturously slow, and all he could do was hope that you might look at him again, let him apologize, let him fix this. Diane watched as the pain flashed across Spencer's face, enjoying it.

The team all turned to Hotch, hoping that she was bluffing. But Hotch just looked down at the ground, confirming the awful truth. 

���I just finished putting in my transfer today.” You didn't know who you were explaining it to–the team, to Diane, or to Spencer, maybe all of them. 

“Being around him, knowing he doesn’t lo—” You went silent for a second before switching gears. “This was my dream.” Your lips started talking, and everyone listened intensely. “I trained specifically for the BAU. I got three Bachelors in worthless shit so that the FBI would spike its interest in me so that I could get into the academy and prove myself to Agent Hotchner. Prove myself to Jason Gideon. Then I went and got a PhD in Psychology with focuses in Trauma and Forensic Sciences. And I fucking loved it. I had finally proven to myself that maybe, just maybe, I was good enough. I finally found a place I belonged, with the people I belonged with. And I was so fucking good at my job Diane. You wouldn’t even comprehend it. But he took all of it from me. Every last bit of joy was sucked out of my body the minute he told me he didn’t love me anymore. The minute he didn’t even apologize for breaking my heart and ruining everything I worked so hard for. And then he still expected me to be at my best, getting pissed when I would be distracted, disrespecting me and my intelligence in front of our peers, our friends. He neglected our relationship, abandoning me when I needed him the most, and then expected me to love him all the same. The audacity is through the fucking roof.” 

Spencer was just staring at the phone, heart beating loudly in his chest. “And the honest to god truth Diane, the worst part of it all, I would forgive him in a heartbeat. I don’t even know why I would, I feel no fucking reason to forgive him, but I might as well. If he asked me to greet him on the tarmac and kiss him once this case is over and he survives, I might, just so I can remember how it felt to be loved. He barely noticed that I had stopped eating, or didn’t care enough to say anything. He didn't do shit when I would show up half an hour late to the jet because I was so exhausted that I fell asleep at my desk, because I haven’t slept in months. He just doesn’t care anymore and I’d rather die than step foot into Quantico again because losing him was already too much to fucking bare. I’d rather never see him ever again, if I can help it.” 

You exhaled, feeling the slightest weight off of your chest, but your words were calculated. The end of your rant held some truth to it, both you and Spencer knew that, but something about the last line of what you had said was bugging Emily. 

She turned to Hotch. “Rossi is right, she’s stalling.” 

“But?” JJ asked her, looking at the building, before looking back at Emily. 

“She’s trying to get Diane to shoot Spencer to save Maeve.” 

Just as the entire team realized this, they heard Spencer’s voice, steady and unwavering. “I told her not to come on this case because I knew she would have slowed us down.” 

Your brain shortcircuited as a hand came up to cover up your sob. Not because what he said was the truth but because Spencer knew what you were doing, and he was trying to do the same thing.

“She’s been useless ever since our friend was killed during a case almost two years ago. She’s barely intelligent, and all she does for this team, truly, is parade around with a positive attitude that gets on on everyone else's nerves because she could never put as much effort into anything as you clearly have.” 

Diane walked over to him, squatting down in front of him. “I want to hear you say it to her Spencer.”

Your mouth betrayed you as a soft whimper came through the phone. Spencer didn't mean all of this, he couldn't have, but hearing the words still burned you alive.

“I-I…You slow this team down, and I have always thought you were a waste of space. I never loved you…” And if it wasn't for the slight change in pitch right as he said never, Diane would have believed him, but she pulled away glaring at Spencer. 

“Liar.” She hissed at him. “Liar, Liar, LIAR.” 

All you could hear through the phone was a muffled struggle before a shot rang out. You heard a second one and heard Spencer land near the phone. You couldn’t make a single sound, conjuring up the worst scenarios in your head. You could hear him trying to negotiate with Diane. You could hear Maeve struggling to breathe. You heard him begging to take her place, you heard Diane screaming about Thomas Merton. 

You heard Spencer scream out wait before a gun shot rang out through the warehouse. Everyone was silent, for all you knew Spencer was dead. He had been shot agasin and killed, and the last thing you would have ever said to him was that you never wanted to see him again. But then, you heard Spencer start sobbing. The small twisted part of you came back and was so relieved that he was okay, that he was alive. But listening to the man you would die for cry over another woman’s body made your skin turn inside out. You had out your phone on speaker for your rant, leaving it on the counter. You reached for it, ready to hang up. But that’s when you heard your name. 

Spencer had sobbed your name. 

He scrambled over to the phone and frantically repeated your name over and over until you interrupted him. 

“Spencer.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He whispered, sitting against the wall unable to look at the bodies on the floor. "I didn't...I didn't mean any of it, I swear."

“Spencer. I–” You inhaled sharply. “It’s selfish but I’m glad you’re still alive.” You whispered out, causing Spencer to let out another sob. 

"Y/N I-I'm so sorry. I-Can you..."

“I-I can’t do this Spence. I’m so sorry.” You whispered, your heart shattering all over again. “I can’t….I’m sorry.” And with that, you hung up, leaving Spencer on the floor, heartbroken and sobbing, truly losing both women he had ever loved in the matter of seconds. 

"You will never know true pain until you look into the eyes of someone you love, and they look away." ~ Anonymous

Next Part

[blackenedsnow]

omg I love the rdr kid fanfics and had a semi a og idea based off them. Like a child! Platonic fluff fic

What if like Arthur or John found the reader trying to steal some of the camps supplies? Idk I know it's not a great idea but thought it was neat

caught in the act

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Arthur Morgan & Child! Reader, John Marston & Child! Reader

NOTE: Oh my god HAHA this was too good. I know you said Arthur OR John but I wanted to do both. Hope that's okay!!

SUMMARY: When Arthur and John catch you sneaking supplies from camp, it doesn’t go quite the way you expect.

You thought you were being so sneaky. Slipping through the camp, darting from one shadow to the next, your little hands carefully reaching for a jar of beans. You weren’t sure how long the food would last, but it didn’t hurt to nab a little extra, right?

Your heart raced as you pulled the jar from its place near the wagon, looking around to make sure no one had seen you. You were so focused on your prize, you didn’t even hear the heavy footsteps approaching behind you.

“Now, what do we have here?”

You froze. Slowly, you turned to see Arthur, his arms crossed and his expression somewhere between amused and disappointed. His lip twitched in that way it did when he was trying not to laugh.

“Arthur, I—uh—wasn’t…” You stuttered, cheeks flushing red. You weren’t sure what to say. You’d been caught red-handed, and there was no easy way out of it.

Arthur just raised an eyebrow, leaning down so he was eye-level with you. “You know, kid, I’m not sure stealing from the camp’s gonna win you any friends.” He sighed but then cracked a grin. “I get it, though. You’re hungry.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but Arthur stopped you with a wave of his hand. “Not that I’m encouraging it, but if you’re gonna steal, at least do it right. You could’ve gotten caught a lot worse than this.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind you again. You both turned to see John, who had clearly witnessed the whole thing.

“Arthur, you gonna let the kid get away with this?” John asked, his voice low and stern. But when he saw how you were looking up at him with wide, guilty eyes, his expression softened. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you off this time, but next time, don’t be so careless!”

Arthur chuckled, giving you a little nudge. “Looks like you’re in good company, Y/N. But you better not make a habit of this.”

The two of them watched as you slowly set the jar of beans back on the ground. You didn’t say anything, but it was obvious you felt bad for what you’d tried to do.

“Next time you’re hungry, just ask,” Arthur added with a small smile, ruffling your hair. “We’re a family here, alright?”

“Yeah,” John chimed in with a grin. “Just don’t go pilfering our food, or you’ll have to answer to both of us.”

You nodded quickly, grateful for the forgiveness and the way they looked after you, even if it was in a roundabout way. With that, you ran off.

[summer-nights19]

HELLO!! i saw your tokyo debunker fic requests posts, may i request some fluff with jin, rui, or jiro ?? Bonus if it involves a date, flowers, or a kiss that is NOT on the lips ♡

Thank you for the request, Anon. It's so cute <3

Since he's my favourite of the three, I went ahead and did Jin

Roses and stars

After a very long first day with Vagastrom, you'd finally made it back to your dorm. Honestly, the entire thing had been exhausting - the Vagastrom ghouls were difficult to work with and also didn't seem to like you very much - so you couldn't wait to curl up in your bed and sleep. As you moved to open the door to your dilapidated dormitory, you felt your foot kick something on the floor. Startled, you looked down at the object, your curiosity rising.

Someone had left a large bunch of white roses by your doorstep, along with a little note. Feeling your heart flutter in your chest and your face heat up, you picked up the roses and went upstairs to put them in an old vase by your bed before you finally looked at the note, which was written in a neat, slanted cursive.

Dear MC

I'm taking you out tomorrow afternoon after you come back from Vagastrom. I'll pick you up from your dorm.

Jin

Your heart leaped when you saw the name on the page. Sure, you'd had a crush on the Frostheim captain ever since you'd first worked with him, but you'd never in a million years dreamt that he might feel the same way.

"Stop it, MC. It's probably not that kind of outing. He definitely just wants to discuss Darkwick business, " you told yourself firmly, but, despite this, you couldn't help but hope that your initial instinct was right. Eventually, you let your exhaustion take over and fell asleep while still clutching the note, your dreams haunted by a certain tall, blue eyed man.

***

After finishing up at Vagastrom the next day, you'd headed straight to your dorm. The closer you got, the more violent the butterflies in your stomach became and the more nervous you felt. You hadn't had time to pick out a decent outfit to wear, so you'd have to rush getting changed. Not that it mattered, because it definitely wasn't that kind of outing, right ?

As soon as you got to your dorm, you flung yourself into the door and changed at lighting speed. Just as you were finishing up with your hair, you heard a knock on the front door. Taking a deep breath, you went to answer it.

"Hi Jin," you smiled at the man in front of you, who looked as devastatingly handsome as ever. As he looked back down on you with his cold blue eyes, the hint of a smile played on Jin's lips as well. Without hesitation, he took your hand in his own and led you out of your dorm. You looked away, blushing. His hand was a lot larger than yours and unexpectedly warm.

"So... what did you need to discuss with me today ?" you asked, a part of you still clinging on to the hope that this wouldn't be about business matters. Jin sighed, rolling his eyes slightly.

"I'm taking you out, Y/N. I thought the flowers would have made that clear,"

You swore your heart rate tripled at hearing his response.

"Yes, sorry ... I just wanted do be sure. They were lovely, by the way, so thank you. Where are we going ? I don't have an R&R permit for today I'm afraid..."

Jin smirked at you and you felt a knot forming in your stomach.

"It's a surprise. And don't worry about the R&R permit, I have handled everything,"

As you walked the rest of the way to the Galaxy Express in companionable silence, you wondered what Jin could possibly have in mind. Knowing him, it was probably something fancy and expensive, like dinner at a fancy restaurant or a beach trip on his private yacht. When you finally got on the train, you sat next to each other, your leg brushing against his. He still hadn't let go of your hand., and his eyes were feasting on you as if you were a three course meal.

"Look outside," Jin gently shifted your chin towards the window in front of you, and what you saw nearly took your breath away. You were right in the middle of an endless field full of white roses just like the ones he'd gifted you. All around you, silver stars twinkled all over the purple sky, casting an almost azure glow on the roses.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, still awestruck by what you saw. "I didn't even know the Galaxy Express stopped here,"

"That's because it normally doesn't, but I bribed the conductor so he'd take us here today," Jin explained, looking smug. Your delighted look pleased him more than he wanted to admit. The Galaxy Express stopped in the middle of the field, and Jin led you out to the middle of the field, which was completely isolated. It was like you were the only two people in the world.

With a serious expression on his face, Jin let go of your hand and produced a small velvet box from the pocket of his expensive coat, which he handed to you.

"MC ... ever since you started at Darkwick academy, you have invaded every corner of my mind, and, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself from growing closer to you. Now, I simply don't want to - you are thr only person who makes me feel this way. Be my partner, MC,"

You met Jin's serious gaze with bright eyes and a smile that lit up your entire face, which he found even more beautiful than all the roses in the surrounding field.

"Jin, there's no one more precious to me than you. Of course I'll be your partner,". As soon as you replied, Jin smiled at you, any trace of coldness gone from his eyes. Silently, he opened the box he'd given you and took out a sapphire pendant, which he fastened around your neck. Then, he leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek, his lips cold and smooth, before taking your hand in his own again and guiding you to sit down on the grass in the middle of the roses.

You didn't know how much time you'd spent like that, with his arm wrapped around your waist and your head on his shoulder as you talked and watched the stars - all you knew is that it had felt like heaven.

Masterlist

[empress-simps]

Close To Me

Pairing: Bodyguard! Marauders x Fem! Reader, Bodyguard! Sirius x Fem! Reader AU: Bodyguard AU / Muggle AU CW: Reader getting kidnapped. Sirius getting injured. Note: This might be the longest one shot I have written so far, this is also my first time writing an action-ish fic? So please do keep it in mind, some parts may be inaccurate.. I also published this at 12 midnight lol. Enjoy!(2.5k words)

You always thought it was a tad bit excessive.

Being the sole heir to a vast family fortune meant that you had the finest thing you could ever want in your life; it also meant that you had the finest protection. Your father handpicked every staff member that was assigned to protect and care for you- going as far as doing not just a background check on them, but also their entire family. Doing a bunch of psychology and loyalty tests were also a must so it was rest assured that they would do their job.

Having one bodyguard? Understandable. Two? Oh, alright just some precautions. Three? That sounds... very safe. Four? Now, that's where you draw the line.

Sure, being born with a golden spoon is great- wonderful, even; but you felt like you were trapped.

You wanted to live life like any other normal human being, away from assassination or kidnapping attempts that were made in your life. So, mustering up every courage you have, you stormed into your father’s study to try and persuade him to just at least assign one to watch over you.

It was expected, you failed.

Now you were stuck with four goofballs bodyguards who would protect you with their life.

James Potter- the strategist. He could sense danger from miles away and best believe that a safe escape plan for you was already formulated if ever things went south.

Remus Lupin- the mediator. He has the ability to appear calm and composed even in the face of danger. Remus saved you more than once just from his voice and words.

Peter Pettigrew- the tech wizard. He’s the one responsible for surveillance, turning any kind of technology into a means of protecting you.

And then there was Sirius Black, the jack of all trades. When your father chose the top candidate, it was him. He was an exceptionally skilled fighter, good with weapons, fast and light reflexes, can speak multiple languages (mainly French), and over all just a well-rounded protector.

Being born into a family with a long tradition and a reputation for producing some of the best security experts in the muggle world, Sirius stood out like a sore thumb. He was the black sheep who defied family expectations. His family's company, BlackGuard Security, was known for its merciless efficiency and rigid standards.

His abilities were evident. Succeeded in every training program he participated in, frequently outperforming his peers with fast thinking and adaptability. Your father noticed Sirius's unconventional approach to security and saw potential in his abilities. When he was assigned to be your bodyguard, he took it as an opportunity to show himself beyond the shadow of his family's legacy.

Sirius is your shadow. He’s never more than a few paces behind. But it wasn’t just duty that kept him so close; it’s the quiet and unspoken bond that had formed between you two throughout the years. A bond that went beyond the call of duty, beyond the formalities. Which he desperately tries to deny.

“Good morning, Remmy!”

You beamed, smiling as you opened the door of your bedroom to see the tall man standing outside, on watch.

It’s still a mystery to you how he looks so put together with his neat hair, suit, and the signature earpiece in his ear even though it’s still 7:00 in the morning.

“Good morning, Miss.” He smiles, closing the door behind you as you headed towards the grand staircase, Remus following a step behind.

“I rarely see you during mornings,” You comment, going down the stairs to grab breakfast.

“James had some matters to attend to, Miss.” He answered, offering a small and polite smile. You hummed, “It’s alright. I like your company, Remmy. Jamie can get a tad bit enthusiastic in mornings.” You laugh, as Remus looks at you.

“Don’t let him hear that or he might just throw a fit.” He chuckled.

“He’s James, it’s normal.” You grinned, seeing the familiar long black-haired guy talking quietly in his earpiece.

“Morning, Sirius!” You waved at him; his piercing grey eyes looked in your direction. “Good morning, Y/n.” he smiled, then went back to talking in his earpiece.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit bummed that you don’t have his undivided attention, Remus noticed this and raised his eyebrow, smiling to himself.

Taking a seat at the rather large dining table, you couldn't help but sigh. Remus decided to tease you a bit, "Were you expecting more from Padfoot?" He smiles, chuckling at the way you desperately try to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"What?! No! I was just pre-occupied with other things!"

Remus doesn't believe it when your eyes wandered in the direction of Sirius who was still talking into the earpiece. "No prongs, she has an event she needs to attend in the evening." You heard him talking to what you can assume is James from the other line.

The scent of breakfast wafted through the air, making your stomach growl as the staff placed the dishes and arranged the silverware for you.

"Would you like some, Remmy?"

"No thank you, miss. I already ate."

As you ate a piece of your breakfast, you looked up to Remus. "Anything interesting stuff for today?"

"I'm afraid today will be quite normal, miss. Just a charity ball your family would attend hosted by the Malfoy family."

You frowned. It's not like you hate the Malfoys, you just don't like how they're trying to set you up with their son, Lucius Malfoy, when it was clear that he is infatuated with his mother's bodyguard- Narcissa Black.

"Do I really have to go?" You complained,

"Prongs already picked up your dress for later, Y/n." Sirius suddenly spoke up, and standing beside Remus. You huffed, already feeling tired.

“Maybe I’ll just sneak out again-“

“No can do, Y/n!” James appeared out of nowhere, his famous grin plastered on his face, Peter trailing behind him, tinkering with what seems to be a mini remote of some sort.

You crossed your arms, eyebrows raised. “And why would that be, Mr. Potter?”

“Because your escort would be Malfoy.” he grumbles, clearly not liking the idea and the dude.

“I beg your pardon?”

You tried not to roll your eyes, keyword, tried. Remus clears his throat, trying to mask his surprise. Sirius felt his eye twitch.

What if something happens at the ball? Sirius is the most capable one of protecting you from danger, sorrynotsorry.

“But!” James blurts, “We’d still attend the ball, not just that close to you.”

“Like that’s any better.”

James frowns, “Sorry. The Malfoys actually don’t even want us to attend and guard you. Your father insisted, telling them you won’t attend the ball without us.” He says, taking a seat beside you despite Remus’ warning glances directed at him.

“Just what do they want…?” Sirius mumbles to himself, already getting highly suspicious of Lucius and his family. (Not because of the fact that you’re about to get arranged to the Malfoy heir, no not at all.)

“They’re probably just annoyed, Lucius really can’t make a move on Y/n with us around.” James said, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping them onto his mouth, making you chuckle as you pushed the bowl closer to him.

“Alright, looking good Y/n!” James grinned, seeing you come down the grand staircase dressed in a red lavish gown with a gold accent.

Sirius felt his heart stop.

There was just something about you that makes his heart beat a little faster, time freezing, and the unusual flips his stomach did when he sees you.

Fuck— you were absolutely breathtaking.

You twirled, making your boys smile and compliment you, but Sirius just stood there, not reacting.

“Do I look presentable, Siri?”

You asked, trying to pass it off as a joke but they know damn well you were serious as you fiddled with a random lace in your dress. Not like Sirius noticed it, no, he was transfixed to your beauty.

“Beautiful.”

That was all you needed to hear.

“Mr. Malfoy, good evening.”

Lucius smiled slightly, taking your hand, and kissing it. “The night could not compare to your beauty, Y/n.”

It took every single fiber of Sirius’ being to not punch Lucius square in the face. How dare he flirt with you when he’s secretly dating his cousin?

You smiled politely, even though all you wanted to do is to stay a good couple of feet away from him. “You flatter me, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I am just stating facts, Y/n.” He offered his arm to you, “Shall we?”

Right. Might as well get over it.

Linking your arm with his, you nodded. “We shall.”

The boys instantly knew there was something off as soon as they stepped inside the venue.

James kept twisting the ring on his pinky finger, already thinking of numerous escape plans for different situations. Peter was on his phone, eyebrows furrowing as he checked and tries to figure out why he can't access some surveillance cameras in the venue. Sirius was on high alert, nothing could go unnoticed, he knows who approached you, how long you've spoken to them, the food that you consumed, and how that stupid Lucius kissed your hand, and interacted with you.

Remus also was alert, but one thing that made the alarms go off inside his head was the four suspicious men dressed in tuxedos quietly slipped inside the venue without getting noticed.

"Marauders, two o'clock. Four men, nearing darling's area quick." He told in the comms, eyes never leaving the four figures.

"Copy, Moony. Wormtail, any news?" Remus' earpiece was filled with James' voice. "Negative. Still trying to access." Out of the corner of his eye, Remus can see Sirius slowly inching to your direction. "Padfoot, do not engage. Wait it out." Remus heard James order Sirius, "I won't." he grunts.

That was when hell broke loose.

With lightning reflexes, one of the men pulled out a pistol and shot the large crystal chandelier causing it to fall and crash to the ground, breaking into thousands of tiny pieces. It was pure chaos, people were trying to rush out of the exits, chairs and tables were turned as they pushed through.

Sirius felt his blood run cold.

He was in autopilot, he dodged a panicked guest and leaped over fallen chairs, all while keeping his eyes on you. He cannot afford for the men to reach you before he does.

Luck was not on his side today.

He quickly closed the distance between both of you. He was your protector; he swore on his life he would protect you. Sirius would even sacrifice his life if it meant that you would be safe. He would do anything for you.

It was proven it wasn't enough when one of the men grabbed your arm, dragging you towards a hidden exit while Lucius Malfoy was escorted by the others.

"Fuck!" He yelled, as one of Malfoy's henchmen shot him in the shoulder to prevent him from going after you.

"Prongs! They have her!" They could all hear his anguished voice through the comms. Remus runs over to Sirius from where he was stationed, "Padfoot, you're injured-"

"I don't care!" He yells at his friend, "We need to fucking find her!"

"Wormtail, you better have the damn access already or I'll skin you alive!" Sirius barks angrily, talking to his comms as he fought the rest of the men with Remus helping him. "I'm in, but it's too late. They jammed the signals earlier and destroyed footages. Go to the exit, you'll see a motorbike on your left-" Sirius doesn't need to be told twice, he did what Peter told him and mounted the motorcycle, Remus quickly joining him.

"Can you see the black car ahead of you? That's them." Peter told him. Sirius was focusing on chasing the damn vehicle, so Remus answered on his behalf.

"Yeah, we're closing in. Prongs, what's your status?"

"Backsup are on their way, they'll be right behind you in 2 minutes."

Sirius felt the distant throb in his shoulder, the warm blood seeping through made his dress shirt clung onto him, but he paid it no mind.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Padfoot!" Remus reminds him as they narrowly missed an incoming truck. Sirius only nodded in reply as he grips the motorcycle tightly, weaving through the traffic and desperately trying to reach the speedy vehicle you're in.

"We're gaining on them!" Remus updates, seeing the familiar back up vehicles approaching, "Back up's near."

"Do not engage until the back ups arrive." James told them in a calm and commanding tone.

Of course.

Sirius will always be Sirius. When had he ever listened to Prongs' orders?

He is driven by his instinct, which is currently screaming at him to attack right then and there. As they neared an intersection, an opportunity was presented to him. He would be a fucking idiot to ignore it. With a calculated risk, he accelerated, effectively pulling alongside the car.

Remus sighs, already knowing his friend's thoughts and getting ready.

"Now, Moony!" Remus, who's on cue, leaned out and desperately tried to reach the car's door handle, and with a few tries, he managed to open it succesfully making him grapple with a man inside.

The car swerves, tires screeching but Sirius kept his pace. He can see you struggling with your captors, and he can hear the backup seconds away. He couldn't wait, every second counts, anything could happen.

"Hang on!" Sirius shouts, with a burst of speed, the backup cars sandwiched the car with you inside, forcing it to halt. Sirius and Remus dismounted the motorbike, guns drawn.

"It's either you release her, or I'll kill all of you and blondie." He growls, referring to Lucius Malfoy who is also inside the car.

The situation was tense, but the arrival of their team shifted the balance. The henchmen, overwhelmed and outgunned, let you go, their plan thwarted. Keeping the Malfoy Heir safe is their top priority.

Dust settled down, and the other staff handled the situation, wrapping it up. Sirius stormy grey eyes met yours in the midst of chaos. His shoulder stung, a reminder of the events that had happened tonight, although it paled in comparison to the concern etched in his face as he rushes to you.

"You're not hurt, are you?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he scanned your form. Your eyes found its way on his injury, "No, I'm alright. But Sirius, you're hurt."

Sirius exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and the world seems to slow down. "I'll live, darling. The important thing is that you're safe."

The sirens, flashing lights, and the buzz all seemed to fade out into the background as you stared into his eyes. Taking your hand in his, he placed it to his lips, pressing a kiss, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I was so afraid I'd lose you," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice unlike anything you'd heard before. Sirius hugged you tightly, feeling him press a kiss against your hair as you leaned to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"You'll never lose me. Never in a million years, how could you when you're always close to me?"

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2803

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 3

The rest of that day was pretty uneventful. Charlie practically threw my sad lone duffle bag through the front door and left before I could give her a piece of my mind for just leaving me here. I helped Sam put away the groceries he’d bought, emphasising that ‘we don’t put things down, we put them away’, otherwise we end up living in filth again. I also cleared some space around the study area that seems to be the centre of the bunker, and much to my dismay, threw out even more take-out boxes and beer bottles. I arranged all of the research that had been left on the desk in a mess, organising it into piles of read and unread; or at least what looked read and unread to me. The whole time Dean sat at this very desk and was watching cartoons on Sam’s laptop whilst his brother was in the shower, letting me do all the dirty work as he just sat there and relaxed. When I was finally done, I slumped down in the chair opposite him and slid all of the neat stacks of research towards myself. Dean looked up at me, his relaxed ‘cartoon-watching’ expression fading slightly.

“What are you doing?” He asked. I looked up at him like he was stupid.

“What do you think? I’m catching up on what you guys have been researching.”

He closed the laptop and folded his arms across his chest, the cotton of his flannel pulling tight over his large biceps.

“That’s such a waste of time.”

“And why, pray tell, is it such a waste of time Dean?”

“It’ll take you days, maybe weeks to catch up on what we know - either me or Sam can give you a rundown on what’s most important in an hour,” his tone was very matter-of-fact, like he didn’t want to be argued with. I sighed, crossing my arms on the table in front of me, leaning forwards.

“That’s great, you can still do that, but the more clued up I am as to what is going on then the more chance we have of finding what you need,” I paused for a second, a thought flashing across my mind. “Come to think of it, you haven’t even told me why I’m here, other than to ‘do research’. What are you looking for that has you so stumped?” Dean sucked a breath in through teeth, shifting slightly in his chair.

“The Fist Blade,” his tone had a thickness to it that I couldn’t place.

“The First Blade? As in Cain and Abel? THAT First Blade? ”

“Bingo.”

“But surely that’s long gone by now, it’s been two millennia at least. Nothing can last that long…can it?” I asked almost rhetorically. Dean shrugged.

“That’s what we want to know too,” his eyes flicked up and caught mine, his gaze burning into mine for only a moment with such intensity I felt my breath catch in my chest. The dark purple bruising on his face around his eyes made that forest green even more vibrant and alluring. There was a pause - for some reason I couldn’t look away and I had to catch myself before glancing at his bruised lips, which I knew already were devilishly charming. Right as I gave in to temptation and saw the corner of Deans poor split lip twitch into a smirk, Sam saved the day by striding in, towel-drying his hair. He paused, looked at us and frowned quizzically, almost like he was more surprised that we weren’t throwing furniture at each other. He didn’t say anything on that topic though, because as he looked around he noticed I’d cleaned. Again.

“(Y/n) you really have to stop cleaning up our mess,” he smiled, hanging his towel on the back of his chair as he took a seat next to me, his long legs grazing mine slightly.

“Sam just say ‘thank you’,” I tilted my head up to him - he was still enormous even when he was sitting down. He laughed slightly, almost bashfully as he looked down for a second at his twiddling thumbs before locking his eyes with mine again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I returned his smile at last, holding it for a few seconds before continuing: “So Dean has just been explaining to me what you’re looking for. Surely the First Blade is long gone by now? How would it have survived this long, and still be functional - not just some pile of dust?” Sam huffed out an already exasperated breath, slouching back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, much like how Dean was sitting.

“I have no idea, at this point I feel like we’re grasping at air,” we all mumbled in agreement, suddenly sitting in a solemn sort of silence. It was short lived though as Sam leant forwards, pushing his damp hair from his eyes and trying to lighten the mood.

“Guys why don’t we just leave it for a few hours and get something for dinner? It’s getting late and we should really eat.” Dean suddenly sprang forwards, sitting up straight and lacing his fingers together on the desk with a grin on his stupid face.

“Good idea Sammy - I can’t wait to try her cooking. If she can cook half as well as she cleans then we’re in for a treat.”

“You son of a bitch!” I jumped up, grasping the first thing I could find (a file on God knows what) and smacked him across the face with it. Deans head turned with the force - albeit not much - and another stupid grin crept onto his stupid lips. He chuckled his deep, chesty laugh and tenderly touched his already sore face, wincing slightly.

“Just for a second I forgot you hated my guts,” he drawled, rising to his feet.

“Well you don’t do yourself any favours by talking to me like that.”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a hot head you’d be able to take a joke.”

“A joke? You call that a joke? Jokes are supposed to be funny, Dean, there wasn’t even a punchline,” I had started to raise my voice slightly and he gave me an extremely puzzled look.

“Hold the fucking phone - are you mad at me because I ‘insulted’ you or are you mad that there was no punchline?”

“I’m mad at YOU, because you’re just trying to rub me up the wrong way on purpose!”

There was a pause, and a smirk and a twinkle in Deans eye.

“Well I’m sure if you ask Sam nicely he’ll rub you up the right way.”

“DEAN!” Sam and I both cut in at the same time and when I glanced at him I noticed a faint pink glow on his cheeks.

“What?” He threw his hands up, “Sam you’ve been acting like a schoolgirl around her since we met her at the diner, always jumping to her aid first. Just admit you have a crush ok?” Dean gave his younger brother an ‘all knowing look’ as Sam covered his face.

“Dean I’m going to pretend you never said any of that and just move on,” Sam turned to me and said in a hushed tone “I’m so sorry,” before looking back at his brother, who was now reaching for his jacket. “And where are you going?” Sam quizzed.

“To get dinner, that’s what this whole conversation escalated from right? About what we were going to eat? Well I’m going to get takeout, what do you both want?” Dean said, throwing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Dean sit down,” I chimed in, my voice sterner than I intended.

“What?”

“Just sit the fuck down. Both of you. Carry on researching and making yourself useful,” I said, moving away from the table.

“Why?” Sam did as he was told but Dean looked at me like I’d asked him to eat tofu.

“Because I’m not letting you boys eat yourself to death with E numbers and MSG. I’ll cook something,” and as the words left my mouth I saw Deans eyebrows raise so much I thought they might push his hairline back. Before he could get a single word out Sam spoke on behalf of both of them:

“If you’re really ok doing that, (Y/n), you’ve already done so much today-”

“Sam it’s fine, I really don’t mind. I actually enjoy cooking, and since Bobby’s been gone I’ve had no one to cook for. So yeah it’s ok,” I smiled at him reassuringly, and he smiled back.

“Ok, if you’re sure,” he paused, looking to his older brother who had removed his jacket and was taking a seat again, “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to just because Dean-”

“Really Sam, I’m fine with it. I was planning to cook even before the jackass opened his trap.” The younger Winchester gave me a final ‘ok’ before I spun on my heel and walked towards the kitchen, not even bothering to give the older Winchester a second glance.

I guess it’s time to find out what these boys have lurking in their pantry.

*

I’d been cooking for maybe half an hour when I was finally done and called the boys to the kitchen. I set three places at the table, and placed down three beers and enough cutlery for all of us, alongside various condiments they might want. I was just serving up as they walked in, muttering to themselves about something they’d researched. As they both sat down, I placed two plates in front of them and watched their faces light up.

“STEAK!” They both had wide grins as they picked up their cutlery and immediately dug in.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing special. Plus the fries were frozen and the mac ‘n’ cheese was instant,” I said, placing down my own plate and taking a seat between them.

“Don’t care, ‘s home cooked,” Dean said with a mouthful of food, reaching for his beer. Sam just nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Well ok then,” I smiled to myself, I guess a little happy that they were happy. And for once that Dean had nothing smart to say. Yet.

*

Dinner was pretty uneventful - and short - as the boys practically inhaled their food. When their plates were empty they just sat at the table in a happy silence, rubbing their full bellies.

“Considering you just used what we already had and didn’t go shopping for anything, that was fucking beautiful,” Dean said, stifling a burp. I looked at him in surprise.

“Oh… Thanks Dean,” I half smiled down at him as I stood to collect their plates. He put his hand out to stop me, taking them from my grasp and pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to sit. He returned the half smile, standing up.

“No problem. Now let me do this, you’ve done enough for us today already. Take a break,” his voice was low and strangely kind towards me, and I was almost lost for words as I felt his firm chest brush against my arm as he took the plates from me, his body heat reaching my skin through the fabric. Was he being serious, or just leading up to be a dick in a rather roundabout way? Who knows. But I should try to appreciate the moment at least.

Dean washed up whilst Sam dried everything and put it all away, and I sat sipping my beer as they bustled about for a few minutes. Once they were done, Sam took his seat back at the table and Dean grabbed the tea towel, roughly wiping the surfaces and flinging it over his shoulder when he was done.

“And now it’s pie time,” he said suddenly, sparks of joy in his voice. I grinned.

“Oooh, can I have some?” I asked. Dean turned to look at me like I’d asked him to shoot a puppy, and Sam muttered an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“Can you have some?” Dean repeated my request back to me, those sparks of joy in his voice no longer there.

“Yeah…please? I saw it in the fridge earlier, there’s definitely enough to share,” I stated, starting to feel like I was missing something here. Sam cleared his throat and I turned to look at him, an unusual expression on his face.

“Uhhh…(Y/n), Dean doesn’t share his pie. Not even with me.” Dean slammed the fridge door closed, said pie now in hand.

“You’re Goddamn right. The pies mine, now back off,” he gave me a warning look as he grabbed a fork and sat back down next to me again.

“Fuck me; really? What are you, a child? Who the fuck won’t share a pie made for four people?” I asked, getting exasperated with Deans bullshit. I knew the kindness wouldn’t last.

“Me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Guys, I’m gonna go and get some sleep - I’ll be back in a few hours. Thanks for dinner (Y/n), it was great,” Sam stood and pinched the bridge of his nose, not being inconspicuous at all about being done with bickering between Dean and I. He smiled softly at me before he left, patting my shoulder as I said a quiet ‘sleep well’ to him before he exited the room. Then it just left me and Dean. Again.

“Just one slice,” I asked abruptly, watching him shovel pastry into his face.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Dean I made you dinner and tidied your shit, the least you can do is give me a slice,” I slid forward in my chair, inching closer to him in a new attempt to get him to share.

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” I threw my hands up before leaning forwards a little more so I was now close enough to smell him. And annoyingly he smelt divine - his cologne mixed with the scent of old leather and woodsmoke, perhaps a little gunpowder too. I breathed in, trying to get to the sweet smell of the desert he had, but all I could smell was him. I tried to ignore it. He was still a douchebag.

“One bite?” He sighed and turned to look at me, noses almost touching as I flinched back, not realising how much I’d shuffled towards him. He sighed, dropping his head slightly.

“Ok, just one bite,” he said as I did a very quiet squeal of delight. I reached for the fork in his hand but he held it up out of my reach, shaking his head.

“No. Not you.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Open.”

“What are you-”

“Open your mouth,” he said sternly, those evergreen eyes finding mine.

“Wait wha-”

“Open your Goddamn mouth (Y/n)” he said, his voice turning gravelly as I felt his breath on my face. I felt heat start to flood my cheeks and I couldn’t tell what emotion it was coming from, as I had started to feel a lot of things all at once. What made my head spin a little though was hearing my name fall from his lips - he hadn’t said it before, at least not to my face. And I hated myself for liking how it sounded. I didn’t say anything to him as I eventually did as I was told; opening my mouth and instinctively sticking out my tongue a little. I wasn’t sure where to look, so I looked at him - the concentration on his face as he scooped up an acceptable amount of pie to part with was amusing to say the least. Happy with my tiny portion, he turned to me and put the fork on my tongue, to which I closed my lips around as he slowly pulled it from my mouth, leaving the amazingly sweet desert behind. With my eyes now closed, I couldn’t help but hum in delight, savouring every flavour before I swallowed it down. Slowly opening my eyes again, I wasn’t expecting to see Dean still watching me, lips slightly parted as his gaze flickered between my eyes and my sticky lips, which I was now licking clean. He seemed to catch himself quickly though, immediately scooping up more pie for himself and cramming it into his own mouth. I sat back in my chair, picking up my beer and draining the bottle.

“Next time you buy a pie, Winchester,” I started, standing and tossing the bottle in the bin, “buy one for me so we don’t have this problem again.” He looked up at me just as I turned to leave.

“No promises,” his lip quirked slightly - so slightly that I wondered if he’d even smirked at all. I scoffed, giving him one last look as I rolled my eyes before I left the room to continue researching.

“Fuck you.”

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Taglist: @creative-writing92 @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lanassmarty @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hell0-ki11y111 @hobby27 @lilcuutiee @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @viridiesa @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @adorablenerdcat

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Up Next:

Chapter 4

[brucewaynehater101]

I miss the feeling I had when I first joined this fandom, I knew virtually nothing so everything was correct and I loved everything, even if that stuff just isn’t true, i was like

Bruce is a bit emotionally constipated but loves his kids? Hell yeah sounds legit

dick is a silly happy flippy man who is a bit promiscuous? Love that for him

Jason is a mega feminist literature nerd who is also buff and takes care of the street kids? Perfect man honest

Tim is a nerd who never sleeps and is queer and has never known the touch of a man nor woman? Sweet

Steph is waffle obsessed goofball? Well I prefer pancakes but right on

Cass is a mute badass who loves her fam? I love her

Duke is a normal dude? Well someone has to be and he seems neat

Alfred can do no wrong? Aight, I love old perfect tea men

Damian is a little prick? So are all middle schoolers give him time

But then I had to go learn about the characters and now I have complex opinions about them, and can see the inherent racism and sexism in how they are portrayed

You know before I joined the bat fandom I did not use the exclude tag in ao3? Like tmnt and dp have some bad stuff but usually I could just scroll past.

but now I am having to avoid fics where whole ass adults are bullying and/or oversexulizing a child

Im constantly on the look out for untagged batcwst

I struggle to find fics that don’t describe dicks ass

I have been in this fandom for probably about two years now and y’all I swear

sorry for ranting, and don’t worry I love all your stuff and I know the just back click don’t leave mean comments rule

I’m just tried bc most of the stuff I thought was true turned out to be false

Mm. I do find it a little exhausting trying to navigate the lines of what's canon, what shouldn't be canon (but is due to racism/sexism/homophobia/etc.), and just having fun.

I'm also trying to cultivate the mindset of what I've seen on Tumblr about not policing other people's ships/ideas. I am highly uncomfortable with some (particularly underaged people and adults dating), but I'm also not leaving hate comments. Like you said, the backspace exists for a reason.

Idk. There's a toooon of takes/ideas about the batfam that are inherently false, but as long as they aren't racist/sexist/etc takes, I don't see the harm in them. So what if someone wants a coffee obsessed Tim? So what if Jason's kill code is very strict? As long as they don't claim it's canon, let them be

But yeah. I have a mile long exclude list for fics on AO3. I used to use it only for triggers (I can not do stockhold syndrome, my lords), but now it's got other weird ass shit I've stumbled upon (I saw a fic where the batkids were spanked as punishment??? Like I said, not gonna leave hate comments or single anyone out. Just not my cup of tea).

I also am usually not a fan of romance/sex. It's why the batfam intrigued me so much (found families usually don't have that in it). I like exploring dynamics outside of romance and thus love the batfam. They've got so much going on that romance/sex is not needed. They are such a mess without that dynamic being added (talking about the Bats getting with a third party, but, again, trying not to yuck anyone's yum).

However, I agree. There's a ton of misinformation within fandom. I like how complex canon gets with the characters, but there's also widely different takes with them (mostly talking about Bruce here. He can either be trying or just a straight up horrible dad).

[goatyuuji]

Sorry for the delay, but it's here now… Most of them are NC-17 and R rated, so read the tags.

One shots (1k-9k)

Incense by cielelyse (E, 6.6k)

“We wanted to know,” says Mimiko, “who between the two of you is the better fighter?” (Or: Satoru tries to prove he's better at close combat, but Suguru has other plans.)

Curiosity Killed the Crush by xBarbarellax (E, 7.5k)

Today was the day. No more chickening out, no more waiting for him to make the first move, no. Today, Hina was going to ask out Gojo Satoru.

all the world’s a stage by ruche

“I don’t deserve to love you,” Suguru offered. It was placid as a temple pond, at odds with all his feelings. His arms went limp at his sides. He smiled again, sweet and hollow. “Right?” Satoru recovered well enough. Intensity seemed to evaporate off of him within a few stiff seconds. “They deserve this, I deserve that,” he said after a beat. “Who died and made you king of the universe? Talk about obnoxious.” Suguru is horny and Satoru makes that Suguru’s problem.

closer to the bone by sanctify (E, 6k)

“How thoughtful of you.” Gojo eventually says as he rests the cuffs on his lap, skimming a finger along the black padding on the inside of one. “I saw that you had added them to your wishlist.” Geto hums, tilting his head in his direction, the sharp amber of his eyes like spools of molten honey. “I hope it wasn’t too forward of me.” This has Gojo burst out into a brief fit of laughter, the bright whites of his teeth showing as he leans forward to lay a hand on Geto’s chest, easy and playful and flirtatious. “I invite you over so I can record you fucking my brains out and post it online, and you think you’re being forward?” Gojo laughs again, a soft pink coloring the curve of his cheeks this time, accentuated by the highlighter he wore.

Thought you were about to get some foreplay with me by SaintOfAthena (E, 5.7k)

See, Gojo Satoru has a problem: there is a frontier that his true feelings cannot breach. When they try to force it, it is only at the cost of their true nature that they are allowed to pass. Consequently, after a mental breakdown due to a pimple that leads to Geto taking care of him, he jumps on the chance to tell him how he feels but things don't go as smoothly as expected.

up the river, we can go slow by Eskarina (E, 5.8k)

Satoru looks ethereal this way—like nothing has ever touched him. Like Suguru couldn’t even touch him if he wanted to. He does want to, eventually; ask Satoru if he’s allowed to leave marks that won’t disappear within the blink of an eye. He doesn’t think they’re quite there yet.

Trials and tribulations of loving Satoru Gojo.

Woozy by Kiboutie (E, 2.5k)

“I have infinity, remember? No one can touch me,” Satoru repeats, before slowly reaching forward and tucking a stray strand of hair behind Suguru’s ear with a wistful sigh. “Unless I want them to.” Alternatively, The one where omega Gojo continues to spend his heat with Getou, even after they've parted ways.

Longer fics (9k+)

4AM by damiselart (E, 10.8k)

Suguru and Satoru's meet cute but it's horny instead.

His **** is What?! by owl_beans (E, 10.1K)

Gojo Satoru did not have a crush on Getou Suguru. They had never even spoken to each other. Satoru was just curious about what neat and polite Getou Suguru was like when he wasn't all buttoned up. The answer was not at all what Satoru expected and even better than he had imagined. To no one's surprise, they hit it off infuriatingly well.

in the eye of the dragonfly by backbones (E, 9.3k)

Suguru first heard about the Six Eyes when he was still a child. Like most children his age, it sounded like a legend, or a fairy tale out of a book—and when he was a teenager, it became more real. Suguru was slated to be a sorcerer, but he still came from a modest clan inside the same village where the Six Eyes was born, and occasionally he would hear little truths: he was a boy of sixteen (like Suguru), he had eyes like the sky (unlike Suguru), or he will be the strongest sorcerer alive (not if Suguru had a say). But— He’s a boy, Suguru thought. He’s a boy. (In which the Gojo clan arranges a marriage between Satoru and Suguru.)

lovesick lullabye by pastelcoloureddreams (E, 18k)

"Satoru, you can't pretend like there's nothing more to us," Suguru appeals, grabbing the crook of Satoru's elbow. That certainly makes Satoru freeze but his eyes remain hard, an impenetrable fortress to the soft and vulnerable boy he knows still lives inside Satoru. "I still love you." "Love? Is that why you left me?"

Slow Hands by megumiblues (E, 12.3k)

Satoru is in desperate need of a massage, so who better to ask than famous masseuse Suguru, who just so happens to be the best friend he’s been in love with for over ten years now?

The Traveller's Song by No_Ir (E, 23.3k)

When it comes, the death of summer is vapid and quiet. It tastes like stale water and smells like memories gone bad in the heat. Nothing mourns it and the air is speckled with bits of seawater that cling to the dampness on the back of his neck. Crickets chirp throughout the night and the bed is too warm to sleep in, so he buries his face into pillows that smell like dust and salt and ignores the stabbing behind his eyes till he can feel the irritating warmth of another day on his back. I miss the sea, he thinks, staring at the familiar outline of the window, palm resting on the friend-shaped dent on his bed. Exhaustion drapes itself over his shoulders and sweat beads like pearls at the roots of his hair. I miss the sea like I miss my friend.

The Future of a Broken Past by dazylein (34.5k, ongoing)

Temporary amnesia due to severe trauma. It’s all the doctor can tell Satoru when he wakes up bloodied and bruised with no ID on him and no fingerprints matching any record. Plagued with the idea that his life must have been meaningless if no one is even looking for him, Satoru finds himself in front of a buddhist temple that proves him otherwise. As the haze around his memories clears, the guesses of who did this to him and why turn muddier and muddier.

[cherrysha]

Ritual

Summary: Choso Likes sneaking into ur room when ur out on missions...

Warnings: Stalker Choso, Invasion of Privacy, Masturbation

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This was a blurb from a bigger fic that just felt a little too bloated,,, and if you've seen this before its because i posted it on a backup acc! also if formatting is off, ill fix it in the morning <3

It’s a secret. Something he doesn’t plan on letting anyone else know, something he doesn’t ever want you to find out either. Something that, deep down, he knows he should be ashamed of, but he does it anyway.

The halls are quiet as he creeps across the wooden floors of the teacher’s dorms. Lamplight flickers, moths lazily flitting around them as his shadow blinks in and out of existence, the only proof of his late night rendezvous. Rounding the corner, his eyes sharply analyze the inky darkness, ears tuned in to the listless noise of the night, crickets chirping and the sound of trickling water from the koi pond outside. Easily he finds his way, knowing the path all too well. When he approaches the door, the knob lets out little more than a dry creak at the pressure of his hand, but he’s still careful of how the old wooden door moans in protest at his intrusion.

Your room is as quiet as it usually is when he makes these visits. You’re always gone, off on some mission he knows with certainty is below your pay grade. It leaves an ache in his heart he won’t admit to but still feels every time you leave. A deep-seated worry for your safety. He knows your capable, but then again, he had deemed his younger brothers capable of holding their own too.

He soundlessly closes the door before rubbing his sweaty palms on the pajama bottoms Yuuji picked out for him. Still trying to figure out if he likes this new style of dress, arguably finding his robes more comfortable to wear.

When he steps deeper into the room he’s greeted by the sweet smell that tends to linger around you, and it calms the mad thumping of his heart. Your room is neat, organized, like it usually is whenever you leave. Your bedsheets, however, are a different story, and his hand’s twitch that the sight of them. It’s been too long since he’s had this pleasure, its sick, he knows, but he finds solace in the feel of your sheets around him. Cocooned in the scent you leave behind and wrapped in what feels like the proverbial softness that you spare to him.

With a shaky sigh Choso climbs into your bed, cool sheets slowly warming up to him stirs something deep in his chest.

It’s not the first time he’s done this, not even the second, but the searing guilt that momentarily burns through his stomach still makes his wandering hands falter. Of course they continue down his body, lightly grazing the dark hairs that dust just below his navel before continuing lower, past the confinement of his bottoms and down, down, down, until he’s reached his destination. His cock is already firm, warm to the touch and more sensitive than it needs to be as memories of you lazily drift in and out of his consciousness. His skin feels hot, throat tight at the intimacy of it all.

Would you be as open and welcoming if you knew? If you saw how his hand lazily pumped his cock in the one place you thought you had privacy? He tries not to think about it. Instead, busying himself with tracing his fingers on the underside of his shaft, a whimper drawn tight in his throat and only breaching the air once he exchanges the lazy touches for a too firm grip at the base. His grip only lessens once his hand moves upward, coming almost completely off before slowly sliding back down. It’s something that should be savored, he doesn’t get this opportunity very often, and so he takes his time. He’s seen you once, all dolled up to take Nobara and Yuuji shopping in Tokyo. You were wearing tight fitting clothes, something he enjoyed about this century’s fashion. He could see so much skin, your legs on display in a pair of shorts, a blouse that did nothing to hide the valley of your cleavage to his prying eyes. Choso was extremely grateful when you left. Hiding himself away until the urge became too irresistible. Until his hands had greedily pumped his swollen cock at the thought of you. Just as they did now, except this time his movements were careful, precise.

With a lick of his lips, he shifts his gaze to your bedside table. It’s almost ritualistic at this point, an itch he just can’t scratch that rears its ugly head the moment his sweeping gaze finds the picture frame. Your smiling face stares back at him behind the glass. There are other people, but he can only see you. Can only smell you and hear the tinkling sound of your voice as you say his name. His pace becomes faster, breath heavier as he imagines how it’d sound to hear you moan it. How it would feel to have your lips on his neck and your hands on his body. An audible choking noise echoes in the emptiness of the room as Choso’s free hand cups the weight of his balls. As if the movement was unintentional on his part, shocking him with the warmth of his palm and he has to tighten his fist against the base of his cock to keep from cumming. The movement doesn’t work in his favor, the elastic of his pants rubbing against the sensitive underside and making his hips stutter on a broken whine as his orgasm washes through his body. Hot lashes of cum paint the skin of his hips and the front of his pants. Whimpering, he quickly picks up his pace in an effort to prolong the sensation, hand tightening around his balls and eyes dotting with tears as he breaches into the feeling of oversensitivity and forces his body to continue. It’s not fair, none of it is fair. He shouldn’t be so sensitive, biting back a whine he continues lazily fucking his fist, hips arching into the rough feel of it. Surely, you’d be so much softer, your mouth, your hands, your pussy. The thought alone is enough to make his hips jerk up in search of something more. By the time he’s finished torturing himself, cum has started to dry on his pants.

It’s not a big deal, Choso knows exactly where you keep tissues. Knows that once he wipes himself down, he needs to take the evidence with him, stuff the mess into his own pocket. He’ll hesitate as he goes to leave, a sickening urge to stay roiling in the pit of his stomach. Just like always.

The cycle will inevitably repeat itself. You’ll leave, he’ll invite himself in, curse as he gets droplets of cum on your sheets, and leave once the excitement has worn off. You’ll return and give him that same warm smile you always save for him.

Deep down he’s wondering how long until your face twists in disgust. How long until you find out who he truly is. His cock twitches at the thought, blood shooting to his pelvis, his fingers clamp hard around the base as he tries to catch his breath, suddenly winded at the thought. Lazily, he starts pumping again, the only noise being the wet glide of his fist and whispers of your name spoken into the cool night air.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @just-my-latest-hyperfixation! They've written 120 fics in the Stranger Things fandom, with all of them being in the Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson tag!

@steddieas-shegoes recommends the following works by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation:

Hic sunt dracones

Someone who cares

Updraft

(You got me) in the palm of your hand

Just add water

Hype. My love. The girl with the dragon AU. I could not be more obsessed with Hype’s writing. I wasn’t much of a fantasy girlie growing up, or even reading fic in other fandoms, but something about the way she writes dragon fucking really sold me. Even when she isn’t writing some type of magical fantasy world, she’s writing intricate details about these characters we all love so much, and giving them stories that make them seem so interesting. She’s my number one hype girl when I run events, always participates even when she’s busy writing novels for the bang or after the bang. I’m so lucky to have been able to meet her and have her as a friend. We’re all lucky to have her in this fandom. Love youuuuuu ♥️ -- @steddieas-shegoes

Below the cut, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Because those two dumbheads came crashing into my brain and flipped a switch that I had never expected to get flipped again. Before S4, I hadn’t written fiction in over fifteen years and I had never posted any of my works, anywhere. I saw my first Steddie fanart on Instagram and I thought to myself, “Huh, that is neat. Let’s check out AO3.” And I did. And I fell down a rabbit hole of epic proportions. There were plot bunnies living in that hole. And I had been there, before, over the years, and every time I had found excuses to not write my ideas down. Except, this time, the fuckers were relentless. And so, one day, I sat down on my lunch break, and I bashed out the first 1.5k words of what would become “Someone who cares”. The next day, I sat down and wrote 1k more. And more the day after that. That was almost exactly two years ago, and there hasn’t been a day since where I haven’t written at least a few sentences. I’ve recently cracked 500k words published on AO3, all Steddie, and it sure as hell doesn’t like I’ll be stopping any time soon. I never want it to stop, tbh.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love when they are completely feral and unwell over each other. Give me those acts of undying devotion, give me that possessive sex, give me the jealousy and the drama. (But also give me that happy ending, most of the time. I will read a good dark fic, every now and then, but most of the time, I’m a happy ending sorta gal.) Bonus points if they snark and bicker like an old married couple while being also completely and irrevocably gone for each other.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

First and foremost, I think it’s safe to say that I love writing AUs (mermaids and dragons and demons, oh my …). There’s just something to sticking these boys in the wildest of scenarios and trying to figure out how they’d behave, and what it would take to make them fall in love (because they always fall in love, in every universe).  Another thing I frequently find myself drifting towards is the Found Family trope. Both of our boys are canonically depicted as having strained relationships with their biological parents, and I love exploring that and making them find safety and trust and a sense of home outside of that “traditional” idea of family - with each other, with the kids, with Wayne. There’s so many ways of exploring this trope, and I think that is beautiful. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

See, that is impossible to answer because there’s just thousands of them out there, and so many amazing ones that deserve all the love! No way I can narrow it down to just one. Here’s a few that I constantly find myself thinking of and that I keep recommending to friends: - Money, power, glory by @strangerthings1975 - one of the first ones I read and that got me hooked on the pairing - @wynnyfryd ’s Yogi!Steve series - delightfully filthy, delightfully funny, and one of the best ADHD!Eddie voices I’ve read out there - Sugar, we’re going down by @thefreakandthehair - everything lex writes sucks me right in tbh. She just has a great way with language, and how she portrays the boys is so lovely.  - @eyeofshinigami’s a/b/o series- lovely, in-character exploration of omega!Eddie and alpha!Steve and their relationship through its various stages. This is what inspired me to write my own a/b/o fic! 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I can never reliably say what tropes or topics I’m going to explore beyond the projects I’m currently working on, because the plot bunnies do what they want. No way of knowing where they’ll take me next, so I’ll just sit back and enjoy the ride.

What is your writing process like?

I’m probably one of the most notorious plotters I know. Before I start writing, I need to have an idea of what’s supposed to happen in the story and where it’s going, or I’ll give myself massive anxiety. Almost all of my multi-chapter fics have an outline doc. (The only exceptions so far have been “Just add water” and “Whatever you want it to be”, and those were originally planned as one-shots and spiraled out of control.) The outline doc is my red thread that contains the story’s basic premise, an overview of the key characters and their roles, and outlines of the different chapters broken down into bullet points. Those are not set in stone. I frequently tweak details as I go (change the location of a scene, insert an extra Steddie or Stobin-centric scene if I feel they need more screen time, switch important revelations or plot points to a different chapter), but the outline document is my blueprint that ensures I know what I’m doing and how to get from point A to point B. I write chronologically, in the order laid down in the outline doc, and my first draft is actually pretty close to the version that ends up getting posted. I usually check for SPAG, tweak a sentence here and there, and that is it. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

I think the most noticeable one would be that I have a major case of wordy bitch syndrome. When doing chaptered fics, my finished word count always ends up higher than my initial estimate. When writing things with a word count cap, such as drabbles or microfics, I always, always, ALWAYS need to manically trim my first draft. One of the main things I do when editing is deleting superficial descriptors. (You don’t need three adjectives to describe the same action, Hype, you really do not!!!)

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Most of the time, I prefer posting my chapters as I finish them, because I thrive on that immediate feedback. Seeing my readers’ reactions and getting to experience the story with them as I write is a lovely feeling.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I think it's a tie between “Someone who cares” and “Hic sunt dracones”, which are both very special to me for very different reasons.  “Someone who cares” was the fic that started it all. The first thing I wrote after my 15-year hiatus. The first fic I finished. The first fic I shared. This fandom has made my life a lot brighter and brought me close to so many amazing people, and it all began here. “Hic sunt dracones” is the one that has exceeded all of my wildest expectations. Everything I dreamed of but never thought possible when I first started sharing my stories, this one has achieved. It has sparked incredible fandom friendships for me. It has made rec lists. It has fanart. (The info may or may not be out already when this posts, but I've been reliably informed that someone is currently BOOKBINDING it. 😱) I just continue to be floored and humbled by the reactions to this fic!

How did you get the idea for Just add water?

I crowd-sourced it! I had just hit 250 followers on tumblr, and to celebrate, I did a round of polls to let my followers pick a concept for my next fic. AU or canon-adjacent? What kind of AU? Who was supposed to be the mer-dude? Where should the fic be set? In the end, I had a mermaid AU with mer!Steve and human!Eddie, set at Lovers’ Lake and one scene as well as two dialog prompts to include. It was heaps of fun and a bit surprising watching the poll results roll in, and I love the fic that came out of it (even though it spiraled from the originally intended one-shot and ended up being five chapters and over 20k long 🤣). 

When writing Updraft, what was something you didn’t expect?

I definitely didn’t expect for Steve to come forward and admit he was very aware of Eddie’s history and that he’d basically had a crush on him for the past four years. I did not plan that part at all, it just sort of snuck up on me, and suddenly he’d said it and I was like “damn, that’s good, we’re keeping that in.” That’s what I mean when I say that, no matter how much planning you do, they just have a mind of their own sometimes. I love surprising myself like that!

What inspired Updraft?

When I was brainstorming ideas for the Steddie Big Bang 2023, I jotted down a little bullet point that said “Something steampunk bc steampunk is cool” and that was basically it! 😂 I just love the entire steampunk aesthetic, and I always wanna give artists something image-heavy that they can really go to town on for a collab. (And let’s be honest, somebody needed to put Steve in a tophat. It had to be done.)  The idea didn’t make the final cut for the 2023 Big Bang, but I sort of kept rotating it in my brain for the next twelve months, and then decided to go with it for the 2024 round, and was lucky enough to be claimed by @cuips-not-cute, who really nailed the aesthetic I was going for with their artwork! ⚙️🎩❤️

What was your favorite part to write from (You got me) in the palm of your hand?

The sex scene in the van. Definitely one of the sweetest, softest smut scenes I’ve written to date. Closely followed by the finale in front of Eddie’s tent, with Steve in full costume, trying to struggle his way through that over-the-top script that Dustin wrote for him. 😂

How do/did you feel writing Someone who cares?

I mainly felt very confused with myself, because I hadn’t written ANY fiction in forever, and here I was, with that novel-length beast just pouring out of me one word at a time. I also second-guessed myself a lot. Was my English good enough? Wasn’t I writing everyone horribly OOC? What if nobody liked it? I think I’ve rarely felt as nervous as I did on the day I hit that Post button on chapter 1. I couldn’t believe I actually did that, but today I’m so proud of myself and very happy I took that leap. 

What was the most difficult part of writing Hic sunt dracones?

The damn middle part! 😅 This is actually something I struggle with a lot. Many of my stories come to me with pretty solidly formed beginnings and ends, but connecting the two is what regularly gives me headaches.  “Hic sunt dracones” was no exception here. The first few chapters just sort of barged into my head, nearly fully formed, and demanded to be written with an insistence I couldn’t ignore. By the time I posted chapter one, I had almost everything up to the castle escape figured out, and I had a pretty solid idea of the ending I wanted, but the in-between was very blurry to me. For the longest time, the only thing my outline said was “They hang out at Eddie’s lair and fuck a lot”, but I had no idea on how to actually move the story forward beyond the monsterfucking. 🤣 What really did the trick was adding the sacrifice scene in chapter three to my plan, because that sort of is what propels the rest into motion and allowed me to tie things together at the end. That, and adding Wayne and his merry band of misfits to the cast, because Steve needed someone to actually fuel his character growth.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I mean “Yes, beloved?” gets screamed back at me so often I’ve made it my ask button, but there’s many.  I loved writing their first kiss in “Someone who cares”, because I had been edging both myself and the readers for seven chapters and by the point I finally got around to it, even I was like “damnit, come ON already!!”  I was grinning so hard while writing the big reveal in “Just add water”, where Steve physically dunks screaming, wet rat Eddie to shut him up.  Those are just two examples, but I have many of these scenes, and when people pick up on them and tell me how much they loved them, that always makes my day a little. 💖

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Anyone who follows me is probably sick of me talking about it by now, but @houseofthemovingimage and I are working on an absolute monster of a fic and art collab. It’s called “The King’s Gift”, and it features time traveler Steve, medieval king Eddie, a fae curse and lots of fun and drama and romance. ✨ I will not try to give any more estimates on when it’ll start posting bc we’ve both had a bit of a year and good things take time, but just know that I’m munching on the drywall over here, I’m so feral over it.  Other than that, I’m planning on participating in the @steddieholidaydrabbles again this year, and I may have been bouncing ideas with some other artists and fellow writers about more collabs, so there’s definitely more to come!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Thank you to @steddieas-shegoes for nominating me, and thank you to the amazing mods here at @steddieunderdogfics for all the hard work you’re putting into this blog! I love reading your fic recs and interviews, and it was so much fun getting to do one of my own. 🥰 This little online space we have here is so beautiful and creative and full of so many incredibly talented, kind and supportive people, some of whom have not only become moots but friends over the past two years. The Steddie fandom brings a smile to my face every single day, and I am simply unbelievably happy to be a part of it!

Thank you to our author, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, and our nominator, @steddieas-shegoes! See more of @just-my-latest-hyperfixation works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 24

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 7786

Warnings: Dean's "memories" from the night at the bar when he saw her again after leaving after graduation.

A/N: Well, here it is everyone, what Dean was going through over the course of the story. I hope it was worth the wait. Things will pick back up on 10/24 with Chapter 25 and you'll still get next Friday's up on the 25th with Chapter 26. <3

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 24

The morning came too quickly for Dean, but at least he’d gotten to wake before she had, got to enjoy watching her sleep a little longer before the sun pulled her from sleep. The soft smile on her lips as she looked into his eyes made it all worth it when he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed a little before she climbed out of bed without saying a word. He knew her mind was instantly back on all her what-ifs, her doubts, and the emotions that she tried to keep at bay. 

He was thankful the day was boring, that nothing happened, and he got to enjoy holding her while they watched TV. There really wasn’t anything else to do there. Dean was finding himself constantly glancing at the widows and only mostly relaxing when she was in his arms. Benny hung out and watched TV with them, engaging in light conversation when it came. Neither of the boys let her be alone, unless she was in the bathroom. But at least then, the agents were paying better attention to the cameras.

That night, she wasn’t as reserved when she crawled into bed. This time, instead of him pulling her closer, she had scooted back toward him after he’d slipped under the covers. He didn’t comment on it, not wanting to cause her any unnecessary tension. He just held her close again, letting that peace wash over them as they drifted off to sleep together.

The morning of the trial, he felt the heaviness and tension in the air. He didn’t need to be an empath to know that even the agents were on edge. When she went to change in the bedroom, he opted to change in Benny’s room, having snagged his suit while she was finishing her last cup of coffee. Dean could feel that she was far more on edge than just having to testify. No. Something was eating at her.

Dean and Benny headed to the room she was in after getting dressed, and he couldn’t have hidden this awe even if he had wanted to. He’d never seen her in a dress before, and it took his breath away. It wasn’t one of those elegant evening dresses. It was just a simple yet conservative dress that fell softly over her form, gently accentuating her curves. The way she’d pulled her hair back in a neat braid exposed her neck in ways he knew he shouldn’t have thoughts about, but he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful.

‘Damn, they clean up nice.’ The thought that whispered through his mind made him smirk playfully, that lopsided grin that always pulled more on the left side. He let himself take in the way she tried not to eye him up and down, how she blushed ever so slightly, and how her lips had slightly parted. But before he could make some lighthearted comment to ease her tension, two agents showed up in the doorway behind him and Benny.

“It’s time to go,” one of them said, his tone all business.

The words hit her, then her emotions hit Dean, like a punch to the gut, but outwardly, she looked calm and collected. He watched her grab the small purse she had packed the day before. When she went to follow the agents, his hand instinctively found hers, intertwining their fingers. He knew she wasn’t paying attention and probably wouldn’t even realize it until after they were in the SUV, but he wanted to comfort her, soothe the anxiety he felt tightening around her chest.

Dean paid no attention to the other people, the agents had already filled him in on the plan for that morning. They would be the second group to go out, the other two only a ploy to keep Y/N safe. The cool morning air was biting, and he wished he had thought to grab her a warmer jacket when he saw her shiver. At least the SUV was already running and it would be warm in there for the drive.

His eyes scanned the darkness, and he swore that for a moment, however brief it had been, he saw movement in the shadows in the neighbor’s yard. He wanted to say something, make the agents investigate it, but he couldn’t. They had to get her to the courthouse. His anger bubbled just under the surface, knowing he couldn’t stop to take a better look, either. So he just got into the SUV after her. Dean was no longer comforted by the show of security or the precautions the FBI had taken. His gut told him the Vaughts knew what SUV she was in, and that this was far from over. Still, he focused on keeping calm, for her sake, squeezing her hand just enough to reassure her. Dean glanced over his shoulder into the darkness of the morning again, as the second escort SUV pulled out behind them. 

The agent speaking pulled Dean’s attention. “When we get to the location, we’ll be taking you in through the back. You’ll be in a safe room until it’s time to testify. Then, you’ll be escorted to the courtroom.” Dean didn’t like how the agent seemed so calm, like this was just another day, like there wasn’t a looming threat just waiting to make a move.

He just gave the agent a nod, glancing at Y/N, who was trying—and failing—to control her breathing. He could feel the tightness in her chest, her heart racing as if she was trying to hold everything together and not panic. Without thinking, Dean shifted closer to her, lacing his fingers with hers, grounding her in his presence.

I’ve got you. I’m not letting anything happen to you. Those words lingered in his mind, but he didn’t say them aloud. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep them, but he would damn sure try. 

The SUV’s tires crunched against the pavement as they drove through the city. Dean stared out the window, keeping his senses on high alert, even as her anxiety ebbed and flowed. Every now and then, the agents touched their earpieces, quietly coordinating. But Dean tuned them out, more focused on Y/N’s feelings. He could feel her anxiety, her fear, but there was something else, something deeper, scarier, that was worrying him. It was slightly overwhelming, the weight of her emotions, but he’d be her rock. That was what she needed right now.

When they finally stopped, Dean’s eyes darted to the window, taking in the alley they’d parked in. It was dark, too dark, and the stillness made him uneasy. Four agents appeared, guns drawn, as Benny stepped out first, followed by Y/N and Dean. He kept her close to him, his hand never leaving hers as they were led inside.

The building, too, was quiet—too quiet. Empty hallways stretched before them, and every sound felt amplified in the silence. The room they were brought to wasn’t much, just a couch, a TV, and a coffee table—one door on each side. Dean’s eyes swept over the details, cataloging every exit, every possible escape route. He wasn’t taking any chances, and he didn’t trust the agents.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Dean felt her emotions hit him hard. Her fear had spiked again. He didn’t even hesitate, pulling her into his arms. “Halfway there, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Her breaths were shallow, quick. She laid her head on his chest while he rested his chin on the top of her head. He’d felt it during the walk to the room but knew he couldn’t just stop to comfort her until now. Dean focused on her for a moment, letting his thumb rub gentle circles where he had rested his hand, holding her close. He could feel the way her body trembled against him, and for a moment, his own fear seeped through the cracks. What if something went wrong? What if he couldn’t protect her? He pushed those thoughts down, burying them deep.

Dean guided her to the couch, sitting beside her and keeping her wrapped in his arms. Benny sat on the other side, a quiet presence, but even Benny’s usual calm demeanor seemed off. Dean could see it—the unease. Neither of them liked this—her having to be in the same building with the monsters who had ruined her life and wanted to continue ruining it.

When the agent turned on the TV, it displayed a live feed of the courtroom. The Vaught family sat there, smug and confident. The sight of them made Dean’s blood boil. He wanted nothing more than to tear into them, to make them pay for everything they’d done. But that wouldn’t have helped her. It would have only made things worse.

His attention shifted back to Y/N, feeling her discomfort rise again. She wasn’t watching the screen, not really. Her thoughts were elsewhere, bouncing between fear, uncertainty, and something else—guilt? Dean couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but he knew her well enough to recognize the storm brewing inside her. He didn’t push, just held her tighter, offering silent support.

Then the far door opened, the man said Benny’s name. Benny just sighed as he got up and headed out of the room. Dean didn’t need to watch Benny testify. He already knew what it was about—the day at the diner. So, he focused on her, knowing her nerves were completely shot, feeling the dread that coursed through her at having to be in the same room with that family.

He knew Benny would be back fairly quickly. The details of the diner incident didn’t require much discussion. Holding her close, he kissed the top of her head, savoring the quiet moment. But the minutes slipped away too fast, the guard calling his name, pulling him back to reality as Benny returned to the room. He reluctantly pulled away from her and stood up, giving her a reassuring smile, then looked at Benny.

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Dean told him, his voice low, and Benny gave him a nod, then glanced over at her.

Taking a deep breath, Dean braced himself and followed the guard into the courtroom, his stomach twisting. The tension in the air hit him like a wall—cold, sterile, and heavy with expectation. His gaze swept over the room, pausing only briefly on the Vaught family seated on the side near the jury. The three men had smug smiles, sitting there relaxed, like there was no way Y/N was going to win against them. It made Dean’s blood boil, but he couldn’t lose focus, not now.

The formalities passed with a blur—swearing in, confirming his identity—before Dean settled into the witness chair. He chose to face Crowley, who was standing with an air of confidence that Dean appreciated in this moment. Crowley’s nod was brief, but steady, a silent assurance that they had this under control. Even Sam, who was still sitting down, gave Dean a reassuring nod, which helped him relax a little.

Crowley’s voice broke through the silence, smooth and controlled. ” Good morning, Mr. Winchester. Could you please explain to the court your relationship with the defendant, Miss Y/L/N?”

Dean cleared his throat, knowing exactly how this was going to go, but it all had to be said. The judge needed to hear it. “We grew up in the same town, but we didn’t even talk to each other until almost six months ago. When I got my soulmate’s name at sixteen, it was her name. Y/N isn’t a common name, but it isn’t a rare one, either. I had my suspicions it might be her, but wanted to wait until she turned sixteen. She’s two years younger than me. But, when she didn’t seek me out after her birthday, I left after I graduated.” He could feel the tension building in his chest as he spoke, the guilt he hadn’t felt in weeks slowly simmering to the surface again. 

“About three years ago, I met a woman who said her name was Y/N Braden. She even had my name on her, so I believed she was my soulmate, even though I didn’t feel that same connection to her. But the more I got to know her, the more things didn’t add up. I tried though, for almost a year I tried. I started asking questions—about her emotions, about things I felt—and I realized something was wrong.” As he explained, he felt that tightness in his chest again, the familiar rise of anger at the whole situation.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself before he continued, and the courtroom listened intently. “That’s when I reached out to my dad and my brother for help. My dad hired a private investigator who was able to find out her real name, Lisa Braden. That’s when I knew that Y/N Y/L/N was my real soulmate. Lots of phone calls were made. I honestly don’t remember who called who about what.”His voice grew tighter, the anger seeping through despite his efforts to keep it contained. “That’s when I learned the rest of things. How the Vaughts had orchestrated everything in Y/N’s life from before she was even born, all because Nick Vaught wanted to marry Y/N’s mother and she told him no. The Vaughts had to keep me and Y/N apart.” For a moment, his gaze fell to his hands in his lap before he let out a quiet sigh. His next words came out softer than before as he focused on images of her in his mind. “No one can tell me that Y/N isn’t my soulmate. I can feel all her emotions, even now when we’re in different rooms. Sometimes, I can even hear her thoughts. The problem. The reason her soulmate’s name, my name, never showed up on her skin is because she’s an empath, and because of what the Vaughts did.” His jaw clenched, remembering her parent’s letters.

“It wounded her soul so deeply that unless she trusts me, trusts that I’m her soulmate, her mark won’t come in until her birthday. It could even put her in the hospital due to the pain of it coming in, thanks to the Vaughts.” Dean’s blood was boiling by this point. He’d been trying so hard to keep his tone and emotions under control, but it was now failing, miserably. 

A small but pleased smile found Crowley’s lips before he looked at the judge. “Your Honor, I have submitted the documentation of the investigation into Lisa Braden. It includes her private bank records showing the payments from the Vaughts every month for the amount of ten thousand dollars. Oh, and for the record, Lisa Braden does not work for the Vaughts or any of their affiliates. You will also find the statement from the tattoo artist and the receipt for the payment he received from the Vaughts of fifty thousand dollars.”Crowley then turned back to Dean after the judge nodded. Abbadon was fuming, but she was trying to hide it. “Mr. Winchester, is there any other information you’d like to share with the court that may not be in the paperwork we have thus far?” 

For a moment, Dean paused, truly thinking about that question and whether or not he should even answer it, but then let out a reluctant sigh. It needed to be said. “Y/N started having premonitions, describing a man she’d never seen before, Alastair. She’s been having a recurring nightmare about having to marry Cole, and Alastair is the one holding her in place, so she can’t run away. If she hadn’t described Alastair perfectly, I would have just chalked it up to fear.”Again, Crowley turned toward the judge. “Your Honor, I have also submitted Miss Y/L/N’s family lineage. What most of the regular populous aren’t aware of is that some empaths are capable of having premonitions. It isn’t something that happens often. There are very few documented cases of it, and most live reclusive lives with their partner. Only one other empath in Miss Y/L/N’s lineage had premonitions, her great-grandmother, who is sadly deceased.” Crowley knew he needed to be plain with the judge, as well as for the jury’s sake. They all needed to understand exactly what the Vaughts had begun planning more than twenty-five years ago.The judge nodded, glancing briefly at Dean before Crowley cleared his throat to continue. He chose his words carefully, as well as the topics, knowing exactly what needed to be said for the jury to hear. “Mr. Winchester, has Miss Y/L/N’s mark come in at all? And if it has, have there been any complications?”

“Yes, her mark has started coming in. There are four letters, that much is clear. One of the letters did come in fully a couple days ago, the last letter. It was a lowercase n. When her mark started showing up almost three months ago, it began burning her skin. I would apply a burn cream when it would bother her. It typically didn’t bother her if she was close to me. But it always bothered her when she was fighting against how she felt towards me.” Dean explained, his heart hammering in his chest, knowing what Crowley would ask next.

“How do you know how she feels about you?” Crowley asked but gave Dean a slight nod, and it could have been completely missed if Dean hadn’t been looking directly at him.

Dean hesitated, the memories already teasing his mind as the emotions tugged at his heart. “I started feeling her emotions more when we started working together. Then, I thought I would hear whispered thoughts in my head. I couldn’t really make them out at first. About two months later, after we’d become close friends, things just got clearer. I heard her thoughts one night. The words whispered through my head like a soft song. I love him.” Dean answered, and he couldn’t help the small smile that memory brought, even if he hadn’t been able to soothe her fears at the time.

The judge seemed to consider Dean’s words carefully, his gaze steady but unreadable. Crowley stepped back momentarily, allowing the weight of what Dean had just shared to settle over the courtroom. The jury was quiet, their eyes trained on Dean, no doubt processing the unusual nature of what they’d just heard. There was a certain disbelief hanging in the air, but the evidence was stacking up, and Crowley knew how to frame it in a way that made the truth impossible to ignore.

“My. Winchester,” Crowley resumed, stepping forward again. “You’ve described a rather unique bond with Miss Y/L/N. Would you say that the bond has been consistent since you reconnected, or has it changed in recent months?”Dean shifted slightly in his seat, his shoulders tense, but he kept his focus on Crowley, knowing this was all part of the plan. “It’s changed. At first, it was… hard to explain. Just emotions, things I couldn’t put my finger on. But over time, it got stronger, clearer. I can’t always control it, but I can tell when something’s wrong with her, even if she’s trying to hide it. Y/N won’t be able to feel the connection unless she trusts that I’m her soulmate. The Vaught's actions of killing her parents put a wound so deep in her soul that whenever she hopes for anything, it hurts her.” He knew it was an accusation, and he shouldn’t have said it, but it was all documented, and he knew it.

Dean’s eyes flicked to the Vaugths again. The smug expression had faded somewhat, but the arrogant confidence still lingered. He could feel his fists clenching in his lap, his pulse quickening, but he forced himself to stay calm. Although, there was almost rage in Abaddon’s eyes, which Dean found rather amusing.

Crowley didn’t even need to ask his last question as a pleased smirk found his lips. “No further questions, Your Honor.” He then took his seat next to Sam, looking down at the scribbled notes Sam had made during Dean’s testimony, then nodded a little before giving his attention to the room. It was Abaddon’s turn to cross-question Dean, and the woman could twist words better than most.

Abaddon stood, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way toward the center of the courtroom. Her movements were smooth, deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Dean’s eyes followed her, his expression steady, but the tension in his body grew as she approached the witness stand.

She stopped just short of him, her cold smile barely reaching her eyes. “Mr. Winchester,” she began, her voice honeyed with false politeness. “Quite the emotional testimony. I must say, I’m moved.” Her sarcasm was thinly veiled, drawing a few skeptical murmurs from the jury.

Dean didn’t respond, holding her gaze with a cool stare. He knew better than to let her bait him, but he could already feel the heat rising in his chest.

Abaddon slowly paced, her sharp eye on the jury before she turned back to Dean. “Let’s talk about this… bond, shall we? You’ve claimed it allows you to feel Miss Y/L/N’s emotions. Yet, this so-called connection is entirely one-sided. She doesn’t feel what you feel.” She paused, more so that those words could linger in the air for the jury.

Dean’s jaw tightened. He could see where this was going, but he remained silent, knowing she wasn’t done yet.

“You claim it’s because of a wound in Miss Y/L/N’s soul. Perhaps it’s because there is no bond at all. Maybe it’s just you projecting your feelings onto her, wishing for something that isn’t there.” Her eyes gleamed as she leaned closer, her voice lowering. “Maybe she doesn’t feel anything for you at all.”

Dean’s fists clenched, her words stinging sharper than he expected. But he didn’t flinch, keeping his gaze locked on her, refusing to let her see the flicker of doubt that tried to creep in. He knew Y/N was his soulmate, and even with that moment of tiny doubt, he wasn’t about to let this woman get to him. Because she hadn’t asked him a direct question, he kept his mouth shut.

Abaddon’s eyes narrowed, and he quickly noticed that he wasn’t giving into her baiting, even if she had worded it in a way to get an outburst out of him. She decided to switch up her tactic. “You’ve made quite the accusations against the Vaughts. Is there any actual proof of anything you’ve said? Concrete evidence?” she mused, strolling back over to the table where the Vaughts sat, her fingers lightly skimming the stack of the papers there, waiting for him to answer her.

Dean smirked, “You’ve seen more of the paperwork than I have, but I’m pretty sure it’s all there, plus some.” 

The quiet murmurs from the jury worried Dean for a moment, but the confident smile on Sam’s face immediately made it go away. What Dean couldn’t see what the anger in Abaddon’s eyes at his answer, even if she did quickly mask it with that plastered smile before she turned to him again.

“Okay, Mr. Winchester, fair enough.” Her tone was casual, too casual. “Can you provide any tangible evidence of this supposed bond you claim exists? Or are we simply to take your word for it?” 

Before he could answer, Crowley stood, “Your Honor, I have submitted the paperwork that Samual Winchester brought to my office. It includes letters from Nick Vaught addressed to Miss Y/L/N’s mother. In those letters are the threats that if he could not have her, then no one could. It also includes letters from him about how her daughter, Miss Y/L/N, would be marrying his son, Cole Vaught. I unfortunately memorized one line from that letter, ‘Since I can’t have you, my son will have your daughter, and her premonitions will build my empire.’” Crowley then sat back down as the tension in the room grew thick.

The judge had that unreadable expression again, shifting his gaze to Abaddon. “Have you reviewed all the documents that were admitted for this case?” His voice was calm, but the pointed question carried weight.

She took a nervous breath, knowing Crowley’s game. “Yes, Your Honor, but—” he instantly cut her off.

“Then I suggest you stop badgering the witness and get to the point,” The judge’s voice cut through her protest, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“Yes, Your Honor. No further questions,” she replied, doing her best to hide her anger. She wasn’t used to a judge that would put her in her place. She was the Vaught’s lawyer, and this judge wasn’t on the Vaught’s payroll. Abaddon was going to have to up her game when it came to Y/N.

A smug smirk found Dean’s lips as he looked from Abadoon to the Vaughts, who were seeming to lose their confidence, even if only slightly. Dean was then taken back to the room Y/N and Benny were waiting, and they instantly called her name. “You got this, Sweetheart,” he told her softly, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead before she walked through those doors. Her anxiety pulled against his chest again, and he let out a sigh.

The waiting room felt too small. The sterile smell, the low hum of the fluorescent lights—it all grated on Dean’s nerves. He leaned forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on the screen. His jaw clenched as he watched her walk into the courtroom. Dean could feel it, the weight of her nerves pressing down on his chest like a damn vice. His stomach twitsted, hating this.

Benny, sitting beside him, glanced over, reading the tension radiating off him. “She’s tougher than she looks, brother. She’s got this,” Benny said quietly, his voice steady.

Dean gave a short nod, “Did she watch my testimony?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“No, I kept most of her focus on me. She still doesn’t know it all,” Benny sighed, returning his gaze to the screen.

He knew Benny was right—hell, he’d seen the way she handled things that would break someone. But watching her up there, so exposed, with the Vaught’s eyes on her, it took everything in him not to burst into that courtroom and tear those bastards apart. The way they were looking at her—he could see it on the screen. Her skin was crawling, just like his.

She sat down in the witness stand, and Dean watched the guard step back, leaving her alone under the harsh light of the courtroom. Crowley stood up to begin the questioning, and for a moment, Dean’s fists unclenched. Good, at least Crowley knows what the hell he’s doing.

But, as Crowley started asking about Cole Vaught and the marriage contract, Dean could feel her anxiety spike, making him take a shaky breath. It hit him like a cold wave, settling over his chest, making his own heart race just a little faster. He swallowed, trying to keep not only his emotions in check, but also navigate hers.

“She’s doing good,” Benny said again, watching the screen. “Keeping her cool.”Dean forced out a breath, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “Yeah, but feeling what she’s going through isn’t the same as just watching her,” he muttered. She was holding it together for now, but he could feel that tremor under the surface. She was scared—scared of what she’d have to say, scared of what the Vaughts might do next.

When Crowley asked about her parents, Dean felt the shift. Her fear deepened, the memories tugging at her heart. He winced, instinctively rubbing his chest, like it was his own heart feeling that pain. He hated that she had to relive it all, hated that she had to face that pain again in front of those vultures.

“You alright?” Benny’s voice cut through the tension. He was watching Dean now, not the screen.

Dean swallowed hard. “No,” he admitted. “Not even a little.” Typically, Dean would have just lied, saying he was fine, but there was no hiding the struggle he was going through, and Benny was like a brother to him.Benny nodded, not pressing him further. He was worried about the same things Dean was regarding Y/N. Neither man trusted the Vaughts or believed that the FBI would be enough to protect her from them. He didn’t press Dean further, turning his gaze back to the TV, his expression hardening as Crowley moved to the next question.

Then came the part about the break-in. Dean’s heart kicked up again, hearing her mention it, the way she kept her voice even. He felt her struggle through it, the way she tried to stay calm even though her pulse was racing. He could practically hear the memories playing in her head, see the fear in her eyes from that night. His throat tightened, and he rubbed his hand across his jaw, trying to shake off the helplessness gnawing at him.

When she mentioned him recognizing one of the men with the Vaught family, his name on her lips, something inside him steadied. The memories of that day played through Dean’s mind for a moment, the day she had let him in, even if just a little more than she had before. How he’d kissed her, and she had let him, but had also kissed him back. That was the night she would have let him in completely, had Alastair not broken into her home and pulled her attention from the moment, from him.

Then came Abaddon’s turn. Dean stiffened, hating the sight of her cold, calculating face as she approached the stand. Her voice was sharp, slicing through the air as she questioned Y/N, and Dean felt her confidence waver. He wanted to reach through the screen, to be there, to stand between her and that snake of a woman. He could feel Y/N’s fear as if it were his own, like a chill that was in the very air around him.

“She’s going for the throat,” Dean muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched as he watched Abadoon dig into the details, trying to undermine everything Y/N had said.

Benny shook his head slowly. “Don’t let it get to you, man. She’s baiting her.”But Dean could already feel the cracks forming. She was trying to hold her ground, but her confidence was slipping. Dean’s heart pounded, and he could almost feel the weight of her emotions pressing down on him, the fear and uncertainty seeping through the thread that connected them. 

Hang on, Sweetheart. You’re almost there. Then, like a lifeline, she found her voice again, causing goosebumps to prickle along Dean’s arms. Had she heard him? Had she felt him? He wasn’t sure, but it helped calm him some. She was fighting back, standing her ground. When the questions shifted to the details of her parent’s evidence, Dean felt that familiar tightening in his chest. He knew how hard it had been for her to talk about her parent’s letters. But when she snapped back with that sharp retort about the documents already being submitted, he couldn’t help but chuckle as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. That’s my girl.

The tension didn’t fully leave his body until the judge’s ruling, giving the prosecution two full weeks to review the documentation, again. Dean exhaled heavily, the weight in his chest lifting just a little. Y/N had held her own, but the battle was far from over.

Benny clapped him on the shoulder. “Told ya. She’s a fighter.”Dean nodded, still smiling. “Yeah… she is.” He glanced at the screen one last time before turning away and toward the door. He knew he didn’t have to say anything to Benny. They’d been best friends since school. They both knew that had Benny not been there, Dean wouldn’t have been able to stay as level-headed as he had. 

When she came through the door, she rushed straight toward him. His arms wrapped around her the second she was close, pulling her against him as if he could shield her from the world. The moment she was in his embrace, he felt her emotions flood through him—overwhelmed, exhausted, but clinging to him like a lifeline.

Damn, she’s shaking, and her mark burns.

His grip tightened, wanting to soothe the storm of emotions swirling through her, but there wasn’t time for that now. “It’s time to go,” an agent’s voice cut through the silence, pulling Dean’s attention to the next task, getting her back to the safehouse.

Dean sighed, the weight of responsibility settling back onto his shoulders. He could feel her reluctance, too, how much she just wanted to stay wrapped in his arms, away from all of this. But they had to keep moving.

With her tucked against his side, they followed the agents out of the room, navigating through hallways that twisted and turned in ways meant to confuse. Dean had no idea where they were headed, but he kept his senses sharp, feeling Benny’s presence behind him like a silent backup. When they finally reached a different SUV, Dean helped Y/N inside, sliding in next to her, holding her close as the vehicle started moving.

He felt her lean into him, her head resting against his chest, and his heart ached for her. He could still sense the raw nerves underneath the surface, the anxiety buzzing through her like static electricity. It made him hold her a little tighter, his hand rubbing small circles on her back, hoping it would calm the storm raging inside her.

“You did so good in there, Sweetheart,” Dean whispered, the pride in his voice unmistakable. He felt her emotions shift, just a little, at his words—like she didn’t believe it, but needed to hear it.

“It was nerve-wracking,” she mumbled, her voice small against his chest.

Dean glanced over at Benny, who was sitting across from them, his arms crossed, trying to hide a grin. “I love how she put that stain of a woman in ‘er place,” Benny chuckled, his eyes shining with approval.

Dean smirked, feeling a bit of the tension in his chest loosen. “That was pretty witty,” he added, glancing down at her, feeling a flicker of amusement from her in return. It was small, but it was enough to make her smile just a little.

But then the atmosphere in the SUV shifted. The agent next to them, his face suddenly serious, held a finger to his earpiece, listening intently. Dean’s senses went on high alert immediately, his body stiffening, his hand instinctively gripping Y/N’s shoulder a little tighter. Something wasn’t right.

He exchanged a look with Benny—one of those wordless conversations they’d had a hundred times before. Benny’s brows furrowed, and Dean could see the concern reflecting in his eyes. Whatever was happening, they didn’t have all the details, but it wasn’t good.

Dean looked out the window, noticing how the vehicle was moving in the opposite direction of the safe house, then he felt Y/N’s confusion spike. Stay calm, Sweetheart. I’ve got you. Words he couldn’t say out loud at the moment, the agent shooshing them a moment ago.

Then, the agent finally spoke, his gaze falling on them, particularly on Y/N. “There’s been a change of plans.”

Dean’s stomach dropped, his instincts screaming at him to get ready for whatever was coming next. His mind raced through possible scenarios, all of them ending with one thought: Keep her safe. No matter what. He watched the route they took, how they drove to a high-end neighborhood with massive homes, fenced-in properties with gates requiring a code to enter, and pedicured yards.

The SUV rolled to a stop in front of what looked like a fortress. The wrought iron gates, thick brick walls, and the overgrown trees and vines on the other side gave the place an intimidating look—like they were driving into a stronghold rather than a safe house. He felt her pulse quicken beside him, and his hand squeezed her shoulder, trying to offer reassurance.

She’s on edge again.

Dean could feel her emotions bubbling beneath the surface—anxiety, tension, a hint of fear. His own protective instincts were already on high alert, but sensing her nerves made it worse. His eyes swept over the gates as they slowly opened, the high hedges and manicured trees offering no relief from the feeling that they were walking into something too damn fancy to be real.

The driveway wound through a perfectly groomed landscape, but Dean’s attention was more on Y/N than the surroundings. Her breath seemed to hitch in her throat, and even without having to hear her thoughts, he knew what was going through her mind.

Where the hell are we?

It was the same question he and Benny both had. Dean kept Y/N close, even after the SUV stopped in front of a massive mansion. The place looked like something out of a rich guy’s fantasy, all marble, hedges, and probably worth more than a few million. He saw her jaw drop as she stared at the mansion, and even though his own instincts were telling him not to trust anything this polished, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of amusement seeing her reaction.

She’s never seen anything like this before. God, she’s adorable.

Benny’s door opened first, and then the agent held the door for them. Dean gently guided Y/N out, his hand never leaving her back as they stepped onto the perfectly paved driveway. She seemed too stunned to speak, her wide eyes looked on the mansion. But then that familiar Scottish accent snapped them both out of it.“Oh good, you made it without incident,” Crowley’s voice carried as he made his way down the steps, looking smug as usual.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly at the sight of him. Crowley might be helping, but there was no way in hell Dean trusted him. Still, the relief he felt from Y/N the moment she saw it was Crowley and not someone from the Vaughts made him ease up a bit.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice a little shaky but filled with relief.

Crowley’s smile widened. “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here during the course of your case,” he explained. “One of my men will be back with your belongings, and theirs as well. Now, shall we get some brunch?”

Brunch? Really, Crowley?

Dean rolled his eyes slightly at the mention of brunch, but he could sense the confusion in Y/N, and that mattered more. He kept close to her as they followed Crowley inside the mansion, Benny walking behind them, his massive frame silent but present.

The second they walked through the front doors, Dean felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. The place was too fancy, too opulent. High ceilings, chandeliers, dark wood paneling—it felt like they’d stepped into a palace, and Dean couldn’t help but feel out of place. But it wasn’t just him; he could feel Y/N’s awe mixed with unease. The way her emotions shifted told him she was trying to process it all, but the contrast between this and the cold courtroom was jarring.

She’s overwhelmed again.

Dean’s hand moved to the small of her back as they walked through the grand foyer, his thumb brushing lightly over her spine, hoping the small gesture would bring her some comfort. As they moved past the sweeping staircase and into the long hallway, he caught the scent of polished wood and old books. The place had a strange, almost timeless quality to it, like it had been there for centuries and it would be there long after they were gone.

I can’t trust this, even if Crowley’s her lawyer and on our side. It feels too much like a trap.

Dean’s eyes swept the hallway as they walked, his senses on high alert. He figured that Y/N was nothing more than another case for Crowley to win, that he needed them for his own reasons, nothing more. Dean had also taken a mental note of the men in suites that seemed to blend into the background, staying utterly still with their ever-watchful eyes. Each man had an earpiece similar to the FBI's, but these men weren’t affiliated with them. No. These men were Crowley’s private security, there to protect the man that paid them, and his staff. 

When they reached the double doors at the end of the hallway, Crowley pushed them open to reveal a dining room that could’ve been ripped from the pages of a fancy magazine. The table was set with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver cutlery, and the light streaming from the windows gave the room a warm, almost golden glow. It was a far cry from the simplisticness he and Y/N had lived in for the prior three months.

This is way too much.

The scent of bacon and something else—probably some high-class dish Dean couldn’t name—hit his nose, and even though his stomach rumbled, he wasn’t in the mood to sit down for a meal. He glanced at Y/N, sensing her hunger despite the confusion swirling through her thoughts.

She needs to eat. She’s been through enough today.

Dean stayed close to her side as Crowley led them to the table, the chef and a few servants bustling around, putting the finishing touches on the meal. He knew Y/N was still trying to wrap her head around everything, but he could feel her starting to settle, even if just a little. There was still tension in the air, but Crowley looked relaxed, like this was an everyday occurrence for him, and perhaps it was. Dean wasn’t about to relax, though. Something still felt off to him.

“Please, have a seat,” Crowley gestured with a flourish, sliding into his place at the head of the table.

Dean gently guided Y/N to a seat beside him, his hand lingering on her back for a moment longer than necessary. He needed her to feel grounded, even if they were surrounded by all this luxury. Benny took a seat across from them, offering Y/N a reassuring nod. Dean could see the silent message there—we’ve got your back—and it helped ease a little more of the tension tightening in his chest.

Crowley smiled, his expression as slick as ever, and motioned to the servants.”Begin serving, please.”Dean watched as the servants moved like clockwork, setting covered plates in front of each of them. One of them placed a cold beer by his plate, and Dean couldn’t help the amused huff that escaped him. Crowley really did know how to cater to his audience, didn’t he? The man himself had a glass of fine wine, as if to remind them all just how classy he was.

Dean’s fingers bruised against Y/N’s knee under the table as Crowley spoke up again. “You must have many questions. Feel free to ask anything you need to understand.”Dean could feel Y/N’s uncertainty in the pit of his stomach as if it were his own, her hesitance to speak up. Before she could respond, though, their food was revealed. His eyes flicked to the plate in front of him—a burger. And not just any burger—one of the most mouthwatering ones he’d ever laid eyes on. Beside him, she seemed just as distracted by hers, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly under his breath.

“Figured you lot would prefer something simple,” Crowley’s voice broke through the moment, and Dean glanced up, catching the pleased smirk on the lawyer’s face.

“I’m sorry. Why are you doing this for us?” she asked, her tone apologetic, and Dean gave her knee a gentle squeeze, a reassurance he knew she needed.

Crowley’s gaze locked with hers, and for a split second, Dean swore he saw something flicker behind that confident mask. It was gone in an instant, replaced by what Dean would consider a smug look, not confidence. “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in seeing justice served. The Vaughts have been playing games for far too long, and it’s about time someone put a stop to it.”

Dean leaned forward slightly, his instincts flaring up. “We appreciate your help, Crowley. But what’s the catch?”Crowley chuckled, his hand casually swirling the wine in his glass. “No catch, Dean. Just a mutual benefit. You get the support you need for this case, and I get the satisfaction of seeing the Vaguths lose for once.”Before Dean could respond, Benny pipped in. “We’ll do whatever it takes to win this. They’ve messed with the wrong people.”

Crowley gave a nod of approval, clearly pleased with Benny’s attitude. “That’s the spirit, Benny. Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need your strength for what lies ahead.”

Dean chose to focus on his meal, for now, tearing into the burger. The taste was as good as it looked, but his focus was split between the meal, the weight of what Crowley had said, and Y/N by his side. Sam had told him they could trust Crowley, but Crowley was a lawyer, and lawyers were good at twisting words, spinning them in a way that could make a lie look like the truth.

At least Y/N was slowly relaxing, even if Dean didn’t want to get lulled into a false sense of security. Both Dean and Sam had hoped that all a judge would have to do would be to look at the paperwork, the evidence of everything, and the marriage contract would have been immediately nullified. But of course not. Nothing was simple when it came to dealing with the Vaughts.

He glanced over and watched her eat, sipping her own beer to wash it down. She not only looked calmer, but even her thoughts had seemed to slow down a bit. Dean smiled a little before taking another bite, trying to calm the tension in his shoulders when the butler entered the room, informing Crowley that “they’re here,” and he couldn’t even imagine who that would be.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 25

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[gilbirda]

Desired

I was talking again about my Eldritch Ghost King Danny AU and was encouraged (I didn't need a lot of encouragement to be honest) to post some never-released to the public chunks of the main fic. One day I'll finish writing it and post it neat and structured on AO3, but today is not the day.

Context for this fic: Masterpost

--- Wordcount: 2712-----

Storming the Observants headquarters was easy. The majority of them were scholars of some kind, archivist, recording history and the future, studying it.

The real threat was behind the huge doors Clockwork guided him to. He threw them open, relishing the screams and gasps once the meeting inside came to a halt at his interruption.

“You are not scheduled to come here until a few more days,” a ghost eyeball with some kind of suit on approached them, a clipboard in their hands. They looked nervous, and their eye went back to the head of the Observants glaring at the halfa at the door.

“Then make time,” Danny pushed through. The poor ghost jumped and froze, clearly not used to people coming guns blazing into a meeting. “Heeeyyy,” the teenager floated down the stairs, ignoring the ghosts sitting around the circle of chairs in the middle. “Did you miss me?”

“Daniel Phantom.” The leader of the Observants, who he came to learn was called Larry (well, more like La’arriem, but he decided to call him Larry), stood from his chair furthest from the door. “You are not welcomed here.”

“Oh, yeah?” His smile was feral, and his eyes shone with a mad glint. “I thought I was, you know, since I’m apparently the Ghost King.”

He slammed his hands on the long circular table, ignoring the gasps of the ghosts around him.

“Cease this behaviour.” Larry narrowed his eye.

“So you don’t deny it?” Danny looked up towards the ghosts adjourned, recognizing some familiar faces, not all of them friendly. “And what’s with the meeting? Making rules behind my royal back?”

Larry made a gesture and stopped the guard who was approaching them. “No, this is not of matters that concern you, since you aren’t yet the King.”

“Aren’t I?” He tried not to show confusion.

Larry caught on his hesitation. “Until the coronation you are not, officially, the King.”

“Then let’s get on with it!” All this suspense was killing him. If he was going to throw his life out the window anyway, he may as well do it now.

But the Observants were shaking their heads (eyes?) at him. Larry sounded mocking when he answered. “You are not ready. The king must be prepared before the ceremony. That’s what we summoned you for.”

Danny felt a shiver down his spine. This sounded more and more like a cult. What would they force him to do? Meditate under a waterfall? Fast? No thank you.

“Skip it.”

Larry looked around the hall before sighing, accepting that there was no way they could solve this quietly.

“No.”

Danny punched the table and the papers and artifacts strewn over it flew away. “If this is some kind of power play…”

“It is not, I assure you.” Larry floated up one artifact that fell from the table. It was some kind of rock with a weird aura, now that Danny noticed. It called him, feeling familiar. “We were actually discussing the plan for your… training.”

When Larry and the Observants looked at the audience Danny looked as well, catching Dora and Frostbite sitting together, waving enthusiastically at him. A ghost in greek armor nodded at him, but Danny didn’t recognize him — must have been someone from New Greece, Pandora’s realm. He also saw Desiree talking with a group of female ghosts he didn’t recognize at the back of the hall, and if she saw him she didn’t make it known.

“Do you recognize this?” Another Observant’s voice made him look back at the center of the hall, and at the ghosts in front of him. Danny didn’t know this ghost, but he knew they followed Larry everywhere. 

Danny looked at their hands. The artifact. “No.”

Some Observants shared a look, and Larry snickered. “You should.”

“Why?”

“It’s the Ghost Zone’s Core. Or at least part of it.”

Phantom looked down again. It was just a rock. It glowed, but that’s it — it was like everything else in the Ghost Zone. “It’s a rock.”

Some murmurs filled the hall. The lapdog Observant looked up at Larry for support.

“It’s part of the Zone itself. This artifact was handed to us by the revered Ancients a long time ago, to watch over the Realms’ desires in their stead as they looked for a new King.”

Danny blinked. He tried to imagine it as something fantastical and amazing. “It’s just a rock.”

Larry started trembling in rage, hitting the floor with a staff that had been resting against the table. “Silence!” He screamed at the audience before turning back towards the halfa. “Child, your disrespect shouldn’t be left unpunished, but for learning purposes I will let a demonstration prove you wrong.” Larry made a gesture and the other Observant put the rock in his waiting hand. “Oh revered Core, please, show us your power.”

The rock started shining on command.

“Huh.”

Larry glared at Phantom. “Revered Core, please, do you recognize this ghost?” He asked clearly, approaching Danny with the rock. The shine, which had been soft, morphed into a full glow as if it was some kind of star. Being so close, the Observants, Danny and Clockwork had to cover their eyes with a hand.

“So it does respond to questions, huh.” He leaned down and smiled when the rock’s glow lowered to a soft shimmer, pulsing like a heartbeat. “Yo, are you happy with the eyeballs?”

The glow dimmed. The Core wasn’t happy.

“Interesting,” he took the rock from the other ghost’s hand and floated backwards, away from the eyeball trying to retrieve the chunk of rock. “Was everything that the eyeballs say true?”

The Core started pulsing rapidly, as if it were nodding to his question. Okay, so the Observants didn’t steal the artifact and were appointed by the Ancients after Pariah’s defeat.

Danny floated a bit further, dodging Larry. “Core, do you know why the eyeballs stalled my coronation?”

The rock’s glow dimmed to a barely noticeable shine, unsure of how to answer his question. Right, yes or no questions were better.

“Do you think I can be King?” Danny did a flip, his ghostly tail gracing an Observant’s hand trying to grab him. 

The rock’s shine went overdrive, vibrating in his hands.

“Do you think I will be happy being King?” He landed, not sure why he asked that question. Before the Core could answer like some kind of magic 8 ball, it was ripped from his hands.

“Enough!” Larry fumed, withdrawing the rock to his chest, as far as he could from Danny. “Stop this nonsense.”

“Why? I need to get to know the Core of the place I am meant to rule, right?” He laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“You will not ‘get to know’ anything! Not, at least, until we deem you prepared to—”

“Then why wait? Why not now?” he crossed his arms over his chest. “You could have told me and started ‘preparations’ when I defeated Dark.”

“Because—”

“Or, even better,” he walked up to Larry, ignoring the low glow of the Core in the ghost’s arms. “If you wanted to wait you could wait until I graduated high school, no? Just a few years and I would even be happy to oblige.”

“Because you are an insolent brat!” Larry declared to the silent hall. Someone coughed uncomfortably. “Child, you are the last ghost we would choose for this! Oh, believe me, if it were up to me, you would have been executed like you deserve!”

“But you won’t.”

Larry growled, giving a look at Clockwork, who found the whole situation amusing. “For some reason that escapes us, the Zone has chosen you over the other candidate.”

Danny knew this but had to ask. “Who was the other candidate?”

“You know who he is,” Larry straightened his back, the artifact safely in his hands. “Vlad Plasmius.”

The reaction was immediate. The Core turned pitch black, vibrating with an emotion that one could even call fury. Not fear, not dislike — the Core despised Vlad.

Huh. At least they had that in common, Danny appreciated.

He looked up at Larry. “How can you say he is a better alternative? Vlad only wants more power to conquer the whole Zone!” He turned towards the audience and the other Observants. “If it were up to him, all of you would be stripped of your freedom if he decides you’re in the way of his conquest.”

“But he is more experienced than you. He knows the Realms, more than you. Our customs, our ways,” Larry narrowed his eye, ignoring the angry rock in his hands. “You, on the other hand, are just a child. You would only lead us into chaos!”

“Is your fear of the unknown so deep that you would choose a tyrant over me?”

“Plasmius is not a tyrant. At least he can be reasoned with. Not like a brat like you.”

Danny couldn’t believe his ears. “Excuse me? Do we know different Vlad Plasmius?” He waited for Larry to admit he was just kidding, but it never happened. “Vladdie would decimate you the first thing if he becomes king.”

“Impossible. He appreciates the order we keep in this institution.” Larry puffed his chest.

“And he told you this himself, right,” Larry didn’t nod, but it was implied. “Ok, then you are more stupid than I thought you were.”

He grabbed the rock again when Larry stuttered at the insult. “Tell me, Core,” he stage-whispered at the still black stone. Apparently it didn’t like all the Plasmius talk. “Are the Observants stupid for believing Plasmius?”

The rock changed colors to a soft yellow and vibrated, amused. “Thought so.” He nodded and looked back at the audience. “Please, never trust Plasmius. He will stab you in the back at the first notice. I know many of you don’t know me, but I assure you that he would not be a good alternative as King.”

“It doesn’t matter,” a bored ghost interceded from the crowd. Danny didn’t know who it was. “The Core has chosen you no matter if we like it or not.”

On cue, the rock changed colors to green, pulsing and vibrating with desire in Danny’s hands. The halfa almost could hear a whisper in the back of his mind, pure desire, a visceral want of him, his body and his mind. The Core wanted him. Pretty words, but faced with what he could sense from the piece of rock in his hands, he wanted to throw it away and never look back.

He had never been desired or felt desire at this level. It rubbed him the wrong way. It was borderline sexual, how the Core seemed to want him as theirs, as the King — a desire so primal and animalistic that scared him.

Danny licked his lips, turning towards the Observants. “What if I say no?” He knew the answer as well, but he needed to hear it again. He really didn’t want to be King.

Larry looked worried, but relieved. Maybe he sensed that Danny was scared of what he felt from the piece of Core. 

“Destruction. Chaos. The end of the Realms,” he walked towards a book resting on the floor, one of the documents that fell when he hit the table. “It has been recorded by previous kings that they received… visions from the Realms, messages, possibilities of what could have been or could be. One recorded such a vision of what could happen if the Zone is left without a King for too long.” Larry searched for the passage he was referring to and started reading. 

[...] and I saw a black void, hunger, eating everything and everyone away. Such pain and destruction [...]. Unhappiness, the weight of absence of light and a center, a pivot from where the Core would anchor in, only the ultimate unmaking of the Realms was what was left of us.

“Some parts have been lost in the translations, but the message is clear, child. The Realms cannot exist without a king for too long and we are already at the limit.” He closed the book with a thud, the sound too loud in the suddenly quiet room. “This cannot wait until it is convenient for you.” Larry said the word in mockery.

Danny looked down at the chunk of Core, pondering. He knew he didn’t actually have a choice — he couldn’t just leave the Realms to die so he could have a normal life for a few decades and die in a fight.

Centuries.

He would instead reign for millennia, become something else, leave behind his life as he knew it. No big deal. In his mind’s eye he saw his friends and family, Jazz smiling at his show of responsibility. He could almost hear her go on in a spiel about growth and maturity. He chuckled quietly.

There was really no other way, huh? His future that once had been so uncertain now was taking shape in a way he never imagined, set in stone before he even knew what was happening. Decided for him before he knew the implications.

He didn’t want to be king, but he could try. He had the power of friendship and love on his side, right? What could go wrong?

Oh… maybe he shouldn’t have thought that. Jinxing this so early on was a bad idea.

Whatever.

Danny sighed. He knew there was no way in hell he was going to let the Infinite Realms crumble and perish just because he was sixteen and wasn’t sure about his future.

“Okay,” the word was heavy in his mouth, his hands playing with the shiny piece of Core. “Then I accept.”

One blink and you miss it — he found himself in another place, maybe even another time, maybe another realm. He saw a man, tall, muscular, with an imposing figure. The man wore dark and spiky armor, with shoulder guards that resemble animal skulls, a giant white cape clasped over his chest with a black chain waving in an invisible breeze, and in his hand he could clearly see the Ring. He looked up, knowing what he would find.

His own face. Older, more defined, once the baby fat is gone and years have eaten away his innocence. He looks a bit like Dan.

But his eyes. His eyes were different. They weren't red, or angry, or even vicious. His bright green eyes looked gentle and gracious, even with the unnerving absence of pupils or irises. They were all green, toxic green, with flowing green smoke pouring out of the sockets, the wispy ends curling up. The kindness he found in them was familiar.

The not-Dan tilted his head forward and smiled. On his head, among impossibly long flowing locks of snow white hair, the Crown flared with a silent command.

Danny wanted to say something, ask how things would turn out for them, if he was making a mistake, but when he opened his mouth he was back at the Observant’s meeting hall, back to being watched and scrutinized. He blinked the spots in his eyes at the sudden change of lightning, noticing the unusual silence in the room.

Everyone was looking at something behind him.

He turned barely in time to glance at a giant hologram (astral projection?) of the not-Dan crossing his arms around his broad armored chest before it vanished. A deep laugh rang in his own voice, and yet so different from his, reverberating in the big round room. 

Clockwork smirked, as if he had planned for this to happen, and knelt.

“May the King reign forever.” It was just a murmur, but it startled half the room.

Soon, everyone else followed. Detractors, enemies, frenemies, the Observants… Everyone knelt and echoed the claim. His supporters spoke louder, but there was little they could do to add on the fantastic reality he was living.

Danny barely has the conscience to acknowledge what was happening. Because since the… apparition vanished, he felt like he was not the same. His body, a mere flesh suit, the mold of a person he could become. His mind was not just Danny Phantom or Fenton. He has become something else. Someone else.

Or, at least, the ball has started rolling in that direction.